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prorevenge · 4 years

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My Grandmother Put Greedy Preachers In Their Places .... Twice .... Even After She Died

TL/DR - My grandmother generously served her "Bible Believing Christian" church for almost 50 years, without asking anything in return. But when she became elderly, disabled and homebound, her church acted like she did not exist - until she was in hospice care and literally on her deathbed, when that church showed a sudden interest in telling Grandma to, "Remember your church in your will". She waited until exactly the right moment, in front of exactly the right audience, to expose these greedy assholes for what they were.....twice.

My grandmother was a member of a large conservative "Bible Believing" church for her entire adult life. This church, which I'll call BigWhiteChurch, was a member of a large Evangelical denomination. BigWhiteChurch was located in a prosperous suburb of a large city in the Bible Belt of the Deep South of the USA.

Grandma was very active in BigWhiteChurch. She worked in the nursery every Sunday morning, helped cook hundreds of church fellowship breakfasts and dinners, accompanied her children and grandchildren on dozens of church retreats and choir tours, taught Youth Bible Study on Sunday nights and was very active in supporting Home Missions, as well as helping with other youth programs. She always tithed, and often gave extra for missions and special offerings.

Grandma's greatest talent was making other people feel important. I've seen this first-hand many times. Although I belonged to a different church, I often visited with Grandma, and when I did, I usually went to BigWhiteChurch functions with her. I've seen her single-handedly cook breakfast for dozens of BigWhiteChurch Youth, a task which took over 2 hours, even in the church's large kitchen. Then, after the meal, she asked the group for a round of applause for the high-school student leader for, "Doing such a great job of organizing the Prayer Breakfast".

I remember that, on a BigWhiteChurch youth retreat at a rural Church Camp, she drove most of the night to go back to the city and retrieve a big box of evangelistic materials, that one of the Assistant Pastors (whom I'll call AssPastor) had forgotten and asked her to get, in time for our morning program the next day. His boss, the Senior Pastor (I'll call him PompousPastor), never found out that AssPastor had screwed up or that Grandma had fixed it for him. AssPastor never even thanked Grandma. Even though I was a child, this bothered me so much that I asked her about it. She said that she didn't mind at all; she told me her reward would be that those materials, "Would help children find Jesus".

Grandma's service to her church ended abruptly at the age of 73, when she broke her back in a car accident. Afterwards, for the last 10 years of her life, she was homebound and could not go to church because of this injury and declining health due to old age. Her mind was just as sharp as ever, and her faith remained sincere, but her body wore out a little more every day.

During those 10 years, she made many efforts to reach out to her church, its leadership and her church friends, inviting them to visit her at her home, etc., without success. Every one of these invitations was declined or simply ignored.

Near the end, when she was in home hospice care, she decided to plan her own funeral. She and my Grandpa called her church and asked for the Senior Pastor, PompousPastor, whom she had known for over 30 years, to visit her so that they could plan her memorial service, which she and Grandpa wanted to be held at the church.

PompousPastor was too busy, but AssPastor stopped by a few days later. According to my Grandpa, here's what happened at that meeting, with my Grandma literally on her deathbed:

Grandma, Grandpa and AssPastor discussed her funeral for a couple of minutes. Then AssPastor started pressuring her to, "Lay up your treasure in Heaven" by, "Remembering your church in your will".

Grandpa told him firmly that, "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss her will."

They went back to discussing the funeral for a few minutes. Then AssPastor steered the conversation back to Grandma's will, with liberal injections of how badly "her" church needed "her support".

Grandpa told him several times that it was inappropriate to talk to Grandma about her will or the church's financial needs, because she was terminally ill and in an enormous amount of physical pain. AssPastor would agree and briefly talk about the funeral, but would then go back to talking about the church's financial needs, heavenly rewards, "Where your treasure is your heart will be also" (Matthew 6:21, Luke 12:34), etc.

My Grandma started crying.

To put this into context, Grandma was more than a "Steel Magnolia". She was "Titanium Coated With Diamond Wrapped In Kevlar". She rarely ever cried, and never EVER cried about herself. Not one tear when the doctor told her that her back was broken so badly that she would never walk again, nor during the following 6 months in futile rehab. She would shed sincere but well-managed tears at funerals and while visiting family members in the hospital when they received bad news. She would cry to console others, "Weep with those who weep". But nobody - not Grandpa, not her daughter (my mom), nor any of my uncles or Grandma's siblings - ever remembered her crying for herself.

My Grandma was sobbing uncontrollably.

Grandpa, a retired steelworker, ex-Marine Sergeant and Korean War combat veteran, physically grabbed AssPastor and "escorted" him out of their house, not too gently.

Contrary to everyone's expectations, Grandma lived another 6 months, mostly because of sheer force of will. Eventually, though, Grandma passed away and we held her memorial service at the funeral home, not BigWhiteChurch. PompousPastor and AssPastor were conspicuously absent. In fact, there were no "Professional Christians", from BigWhiteChurch, at the service at all, not even in the audience.

To start the service, Grandpa stood up at the podium in front of the crowd and said, "Some of you may have heard that I dis-invited PompousPastor and AssPastor from this funeral service. This service is not an appropriate place for me to give you my reasons for doing this, although you all know me and so you know that my reasons are good ones. Also, my wife asked me to exclude them."

"This funeral service may be different from other funerals that you have attended. It is going to be an "open microphone" funeral. Everyone who wants to say something is invited to come up here and describe your friendship with my wife, tell a story about her that is worth remembering, or anything else that you want to say that will honor her memory and bring comfort to everyone here today. I have asked several family members to prepare statements, but you don't have to have anything prepared. Please, if you want to say something, come up here and do so."

There were about a hundred people at the funeral service; at least a third of them eventually stepped up to the microphone. The service, which we had planned to last about 30 minutes, lasted for over two hours and, as best I can tell, not one person left early. There was laughing, crying and hugging, three of her grandchildren played some of her favorite songs on the piano and guitar, we all joined hands and sang her favorite hymns.

Afterwards, dozens of people told my Grandpa that it was one of the most comforting and uplifting funerals they had ever attended. More than a few remarked that, "Funerals are better without preachers anyway", or something similar.

REMEMBERING HER PASTORS AND HER CHURCH IN HER WILL: THE ONE-TWO PUNCH

A couple of weeks later, it was time to start distributing the bequests in Grandma's will. Although Grandma and Grandpa dearly loved each other, they had separate wills because, she told my Mom, "That makes it easier for us to respect each other's turf", and because their lawyer had recommended it. Nobody thought that my grandparents were wealthy. They had lived in the same small but charming house in a prosperous, well-maintained suburban neighborhood for the past 50+ years, and had worked hard and lived modestly. But it was rumored that they had a very nice nest egg.

Of course, there is no legal requirement for anyone to attend "The Reading Of The Will", or to even have a "Reading". Modern telecommunications and near-universal literacy have made this quaint custom practically extinct.

But "The Reading Of The Will" was a tradition in our family because it was one of those events that gave our close-knit, extended family an excuse to get together. We never had "Family Reunions". They were too difficult to schedule for our large family. But we got together at birthdays, holidays, funerals, baptisms, etc., so that if you attended several of these, you would see just about every one of your cousins, aunts, uncles, and even great aunts & uncles who were Grandma's and Grandpa's siblings and in-laws.

With this family tradition in mind, many of our family members' wills often contained very personal bequests of items that had little cash value, but were the departed family member's way of telling their loved ones that they wanted to share a cherished memory with them one last time.

As an added incentive to attend, the family rumor mill had been buzzing with speculation, encouraged by Grandpa, that Grandma's will contained some "surprises".

The "Reading" was held in a conference room at a lawyer's office. Unsurprisingly, the attendees included my mom, as well as aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles and many of the grandchildren.

We were all surprised, however, to see PompousPastor and AssPastor from BigWhiteChurch. They informed us that Grandma's lawyer had told them that Grandma's will had bequests not only for BigWhiteChurch, but also for them personally.

Maybe it was just our imagination; but my siblings, cousins and I couldn't help noticing that these Preachers appeared to be actively salivating over their good fortune at Grandma's generosity.

Grandma had a large family, so a sizeable number of beneficiaries were named in her will. The lawyer's conference room was a bit smaller than an average middle-class living room. Extra chairs had been brought in, every seat was filled and people were standing in every remaining space.

There was barely space for all of us. Grandma's lawyer suggested that PompousPastor and AssPastor sit in chairs which were in the front of the room, next to himself. Since there was a large table in the room, this meant that the lawyer and these two Preachers were the only ones who were directly facing everyone else. Although the Preachers were gratified to be physically next to the center of attention, they did not notice, as all of the rest of us quickly noticed, that these seats made it easy for everyone else in the room to watch them closely, and practically impossible for them to leave the packed-to-more-than-overflowing room before the entire meeting was over, because they were farthest from the room's single door, and there were almost two dozen people standing or sitting between them and their only path to escape.

The bequests were quite generous, but pretty much what we had expected. Grandpa kept their house, its contents, their retirement accounts and everything that remained after all of the bequests had been satisfied. Children, grandchildren and several local charities received nice, but not extravagant, amounts of money. Several sentimental items were named and given to various friends and relatives.

Grandpa was first beneficiary listed in the will. But, after him, all of the other bequests were arranged in order of increasing worth. They started with sentimental items, which had very small cash value. Then each grandchild received several thousand dollars, then each son, daughter, brother, sister, niece and nephew received a little more, then several local non-profits received very nice amounts, etc.

Bequests to BigWhiteChurch, PompousPastor and AssPastor were (almost) the last ones listed in the will. They listened politely to the other bequests, but with steadily growing anticipation, as they noticed the exponential upward trend in Grandma's largess.

When Grandma's lawyer got to the BigWhiteChurch and Preachers' part of the will, he said, "This is a bit unusual, but before I announce these bequests to BigWhiteChurch, PompousPastor and AssPastor, Ms [Grandma's name] requested that I read the following statement to everyone present."

He opened a letter that was written in Grandma's own handwriting...

"For the past 10 years, NOT ONE person from BigWhiteChurch has ever called me, come to visit me or sent me a note to tell me that they cared about me. Not one minister, not one deacon, not one of the church women, not one of the church members who I worked with for all of those years, loved dearly and thought were my friends. I worked very hard for you when you needed me, for many, many years. But when I needed you and your church, you all pretended that I didn't exist."

"I only got one visit. When I was dying and I invited PompousPastor to come to my house and help me plan my funeral."

"This was my last attempt, after many attempts that I had made over the past 10 years, to reach out to my church and Pastor, whom I still loved dearly even though they had made it clear that they did not love me. If only I could have my funeral at my church, maybe some of my church friends, whom I had not seen in a decade, would come to the service to see me one last time. And I know they loved to hear PompousPastor preach, so if he preached at my funeral, maybe they would come to my funeral to hear him, even if they would not have come to see me.

But PompousPastor couldn't find the time to visit me, or even call me to tell me whether or not he was willing to preach at my funeral. AssPastor came by my house, but he didn't want to talk about my funeral. He just wanted me to, 'Remember his church in my will'. That's all. Just, 'Remember his church in my will'".

"It was then that I realized that I had allowed my church to break my heart for one last time. But that was the last time. The VERY last time."

"AssPastor did not know it when he visited me, but Grandpa and I had already prepared my will, long before his visit, which did include a double tithe - TWENTY PERCENT - of my ENTIRE ESTATE, for what was now my former ... FORMER ... church ... BigWhiteChurch.

This amount was [named the amount - an enormous shitload of money - generating muffled "wows" from many of her heirs, including me].

"But I got to feeling badly that we had not personally remembered such nice people as PompousPastor and AssPastor. So I changed my will to include them by name. While I was at it, I changed the amount of money that I left to BigWhiteChurch to match all of the love that they have showed to me during the last 10 years of my life, when I was suffering and lonely, and no longer able to work my ass off for them, for free, like I had done for almost half a century."

"That is her entire written statement", the lawyer said. "Now let's get back to the bequests in the will."

"Bequest to AssPastor: One Cent".

"Bequest to PompousPastor: One Cent".

"Bequest to BigWhiteChurch: One Cent".

The PompousPastor and AssPastor sat there looking like someone had just injected a gallon of novacaine into their jaws.

Every one of Grandma's family and friends felt an overwhelming urge to laugh out loud. But we kept quiet because we knew Grandma. We knew she wasn't finished yet. Grandma was simply setting them up for a one-two punch. The best was yet to come, and we didn't want to miss it.

"There is one last bequest," the lawyer continued, "For a charity called ...", which he named and I'll call "BlackCharity", then he paused before naming the amount....

Most of us had no idea what BlackCharity was. But, by the looks on their faces, we could tell that PompousPastor and AssPastor knew BlackCharity very well. Their faces displayed the same expressions of shock, dread and horror that they would have if the lawyer had said, "This bequest goes to The Demonic Baby Eaters to buy extra large rotisserie barbecue grills and tons of charcoal".

Every eye in the room was now fixated on PompousPastor and AssPastor.

The lawyer, who happened to be my uncle, one of Grandma's and Grandpa's sons, let the silence continue a few seconds more....

If we had been able to read PompousPastor's and AssPastor's minds, we would have known the history behind the looks on their faces. BlackCharity was sponsored by a large Black church just a few miles from BigWhiteChurch. They ran a free food/clothing bank, assistance programs for foster children, home delivery of pre-cooked meals for homebound seniors, legal aid, and other social services.

A long time ago, BigWhiteChurch, which was (and still is) 100% Caucasian, had provided a few years of financial and other support to BlackCharity. Then there was a very bitter, acrimonious breakup, allegedly because BlackCharity was practicing "The Social Gospel", while BigWhiteChurch was preaching "The True Gospel". BigWhiteChurch even sued to try to get some of their money back, although the suit was eventually settled and very little money actually changed hands.

But, this being The Deep South, everyone knew the real reason why BigWhiteChurch, or any white church, would stop supporting a Black charity: "Those n****** were getting uppity and not staying in their place". Grandma and Grandpa had seriously considered leaving BigWhiteChurch at that time. But they had reasoned that it was better to stay there and teach tolerance by their words and example. They knew they would never persuade everyone, but maybe they could reach some of the youth at their white church and break the generational cycle of racism. Grandma used to tell us, "My church is my Mission Field". We did not learn the true depth of her statement until after she died.

Since then, Grandma and Grandpa had secretly sent a portion of their "Tithe" to BlackCharity every month.

Most of Grandma's family, including me, didn't find out about any of this until after the meeting had ended.

But PompousPastor and AssPastor obviously understood what Grandma, by her actions which are more powerful than words, was saying to them. If you had grown up as a white person in the Deep South, as Grandma, Grandpa, PompousPastor and AssPastor had, you would understand.

To many white Southerners, this was one of the most personally insulting things you could do to them. It simultaneously labeled them as racists, condemned their bigotry and crushed their delusions of white superiority by saying, "These Black human beings, whom you hate, disrespect and have mistreated, are better people than you are. So they deserve my money more than you do".

Having allowed time for everyone to observe PompousPastor and AssPastor while they thought about how their white church had treated this Black charity, and how they AND their church had treated our Grandma...

The lawyer said, "The amount is...."

Then he named the EXACT SAME AMOUNT that Grandma had named in her handwritten letter, the huge amount of money that would have gone to BigWhiteChurch if she had not changed her will.

(source) story by (/u/BamaFan4Jesus)

#prorevenge #by /u/BamaFan4Jesus #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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dumdumsun · 3 years

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Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

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One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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lizziethebookworm · 3 years

Text

Tokyo Ever After | Book Review

by Emiko Jean

A true daughter of Japan

Goodreads Book Description

Izumi Tanaka has never really felt like she fit in—it isn’t easy being Japanese American in her small, mostly white, northern California town. Raised by a single mother, it’s always been Izumi—or Izzy, because “It’s easier this way”—and her mom against the world. But then Izzy discovers a clue to her previously unknown father’s identity… and he’s none other than the Crown Prince of Japan. Which means outspoken, irreverent Izzy is literally a princess.

In a whirlwind, Izzy travels to Japan to meet the father she never knew and discover the country she always dreamed of. But being a princess isn’t all ball gowns and tiaras. There are conniving cousins, a hungry press, a scowling but handsome bodyguard who just might be her soulmate, and thousands of years of tradition and customs to learn practically overnight.

Izzy soon finds herself caught between worlds, and between versions of herself—back home, she was never “American” enough, and in Japan, she must prove she’s “Japanese” enough. Will Izumi crumble under the weight of the crown, or will she live out her fairytale, happily ever after?

My Thoughts

I was super excited to read this and I'm glad I wasn't disappointed. I couldn't put this down because it was that good. From the characters, relationships—romantic and family—and the plot of it, it's perfect! I can't express how much I love this book. It's very endearing and I learned so much from this.

It reminded me a lot of Princess Diares and now I am oblige to watch that. I also want to read the books. The humor in this is exactly what I love and I'm afraid the other books I'll read won't live up to this. Overall I would recommend this to anyone who loves Princess Diaries and American Royals, and to anyone who feels like reading something about modern day royalty.

Tokyo is a city of romantics, forgiveness, and graciousness.

Culture and Tradition

This book explores and talks a lot about Japanese culture and history, and learning all about that was fantastic. From the buildings they point out and the history they mentioned, it was like a dream. They talked about tradition, and how important gimu—a lifelong obligation to family or country—is, and at the same time, they talked about how your thoughts and your emotions are valid, and sometimes we just have to give in to our ninjō—a human emotion, and often conflicts with gimu—and that it's okay to lead with our hearts.

I think you lead with your heart.

I also admire that they brought up women's rights and that men and women should have equal standing. Sometimes years of tradition have to change and that doesn't necessarily mean it's a bad thing, it just means that we, as a society are progressing. And sometimes we need to let go of old traditions and start new ones.

What if we gave in to our ninjō?”

Race

Izumi and her friends have been ousted by their classmates for being a shade darker. They learned at a young age that their biggest "flaw" was their appearance. This broke my heart. Being Asian-American is hard. In Izumi's words "I'm a twinkie, yellow on the outside, white on the inside"

I knew I was different, but I didn't know different was bad until someone pointed it out

Characters

Izumi

I love Izumi's humor. She always makes me laugh. Her persistence is admirable and she loves with her whole heart. She's very relatable and I would love to be friends with her and to be a part of the AGG (Asian Girl Gang)

I am afraid I am aggressively average

Not knowing where you belong is a struggle, being bullied because you're Asian is a struggle. Society is evolving, we're working towards fixing that, but we can't deny that this still exists. I admire Izumi for getting back up again even though she's been through a lot. Knowing that in Mount Shasta she's not white enough and in Japan, she's not Japanese enough.

"Gaijin"

Born a foreigner

I carry two halves with me

Loose skins I pull on

To go places and don’t fit

Like apple pie and mochi

Akio

Akio is a sweetheart. I love him. At first, he was the strong and silent type but gradually, he opens up to Izumi. I love their dynamic and their relationship.

Noora

I love Noora and the rest of the AGG. They're lovable, funny and they never cease to amaze me with their humor.

Yoshi

I like Yoshi. He's very relaxed and frankly, doesn't really care about anyone except himself. I was very fond of him at the start but towards the end, I didn't like him that much.

Mariko

I love Mariko, Izumi's lady-in-waiting. She's sweet and strict at the same time. She follows the rules but also knows the right time to break them. Mariko and Izumi started at a rough start, but they slowly became friends, and it was adorable.

Some rules are just made to be broken.

Relationships

Family

I love their family dynamic, Izumi and her parents I mean. The rest of the family, not so much. I liked them but not necessarily their relationship with Izumi, especially the shining twins (although I love Akiko and Noriko) The Imperial family is a bit tense around Izumi and they weren't featured in the story that much. The only one who Izumi instantly connects with was Yoshi.

I love Izumi's relationship with her mother. They understand each other and for a long time, they only had each other. They're both extremely funny and relatable.

Friends

I love the AGG. They're there for each other and there is strictly a no-judgment policy between them. They're hilarious when they're together. They support each other and understand each other. I love their friendship and it was one of the highlights of my reading journey with Tokyo Ever After.

Romance

The romance was everything I could ask for. They were adorable together and hilarious. I love to read about their relationship. Akio and Izumi are everything and you can't convince me otherwise.

Now I understand

It is all so clear to me

Against, wind, rain, sleet

I stopped believing in love

Until I saw the leaves fall

My Rating

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

~Lizzie

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davidsons89 · 3 years

Text

Toxic Turner - part 12

WARNINGS: this story contains signs of a toxic and manipulative relationship. also contains smut, mentions of drugs and alcohol. some scenes contain forms of abuse. read at ur own risk :)

all you could think about was that open window. you looked over to see it again, but alex grabbed your face and roughly forced you to look at him. "stop looking away" he hotly whispered right against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "asshole" you grin, you purposely tease him. "what was that?" he asked, slapping your cheek again, but harder. you bite your lip and smirk at him. you loved it. he always managed to take it too far, but you're somehow liking it this time.

the stinging sensation in your cheek gave you adrenaline. alex noticed your cheek turning red, making him smirk. he loves leaving physical marks on you, it's like marking his territory. especially when they're visible to other people.

"you heard me. you're an asshole" you giggle. "you think you're so funny huh. you're pathetic" he says, leaving harsh slaps wherever he could. he was roughly pounding into you, he was in so deep too. you could swear he was in your guts. he slid his hand to the side of your head, grabbing a tight fistful of your precious hair. he yanked it, making your head move to the side slightly. "you gonna continue being a bad girl? or do i have to teach you the same lesson twice?" he whispered evilly, raising his eyebrows at the end. you knew what he meant. inflicting sexual pain, but not in your vagina...

“no.. no i'll stop.." you say. "good. now shut up and take it" he whispers, pulling out of you just to harshly force himself back in. you moan and whimper under his grip. his hands moving from your hair, to your throat, to your mouth, and so on. the marks on your cheek became more visible the longer you went on.

your legs began to vigorously shake. your hands pressing against his chest. you did this when you were about to cum. "you need to cum?" he whispers, pinning you back down to keep you still. you nod and moan. "good. do it" he smirks, watching your cum face appear. "fuck" you moan, covering your own mouth with your hand to quieten yourself. he quickly grips your wrist to push it away. "no" he chuckles and shakes his head. he was a tease. you didn't want your family to hear you, but he lowkey did.

"i love that pretty cum face of yours.. so precious" he whispers, leaning his face down to yours to kiss you. you pull away and turn your head. like always, you hated when he was still inside you after you came. it felt gross. "i'm not done. you'll lay there and take it, won't you?" he whispers, harshly pulling your face back to look at you. "if you look away one more time i'll make sure you cry" he gives you the daggers. his dark brown eyes piercing right through yours. he intimidated you deeply. you nod to show your understanding. "good" he whispers, caressing your cheek with his firm fingers. you smile uncomfortably as you patiently wait for him to finish. it wasn't long before he did.

once he was done, he let out a long exhale which sounded like a low moan. you loved him making noises. you knew you made him feel good. "you're a good girl, aren't you?" he smiles, petting your head like a dog before rolling over next to you. you both lay on your back and look at the ceiling, breathing heavily. he turns his head to look at the side of your face, before you also turn yours to look at him. you both stare directly into each other's eyes and smile.

"i love using your pretty body whenever i want to" he smirks. you frown at him. "you're so easy. you're a whore" he chuckles. then the humiliation began. he definitely has a degradation kink. he loves putting you down, proving he's in charge of you. "shut up" you say, moving your head away to frown at the ceiling. his words are harsh sometimes, he doesn't care. as long as it upsets you.

"it's pathetic. get up, come on." he continues to chuckle as he stands up to put his clothes on. "no" you shake your head. "i said get up" he raises his voice slightly, not too loudly though. "i don't want to" you shake your head again. "y/n, get up now" he begins to get frustrated at you. you can tell, simply by how he's speaking. "go away" you moodily say without looking at him for a single second.

"if you don't get up, you won't see your family again for months. you don't want that, do you?" he says, raising his eyebrows dominantly. you look at him innocently. you roll your eyes, sighing as you roll out of bed. your area is extremely sore. your throat is hurting and your cheeks are stinging. all because of him. alex is now completely dressed. you're yet to put your underwear on. "let me help you" he kindly says. he holds your underwear near your feet for you to step into, you hold onto his shoulders as you do so. your legs are shaking. he chuckles lowly. "what?" you ask, frowning down at him near your legs. "you look like a fucking slut" he mumbles at your weakness. "oh, fuck off" you say, snatching your underwear from his hands to put them on yourself. you quickly shove your jumpsuit back on and storm towards the door. "you might wanna cover that up before you throw a tantrum" alex laughs at you, pointing at your neck. you frown and look in the mirror to see a dark hickey on it. you groan loudly and storm out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind you. you genuinely didn't care about any marks on your body right now, you just wanted to get away from him.

alex shrugs to himself as he stays upstairs for a few minutes, giving you chance to cool off before seeing him again. now in the kitchen downstairs, you grab a drink and angrily force it open, taking a big gulp. your sister is stood in the corner with her boyfriend, she's a bit tipsy. "what's wrong with you?" she asks. you look at her and move your drink away from your mouth, holding it firmly in your hand. you look rough. "my cunt of a boyfriend. i fucking hate him" you moodily say, storming off outside. you don't really want to speak to anyone. you aren't allowed to rant to anybody about alex, otherwise the consequences would be bad. extremely bad.

your mom notices you sitting alone on a wall in the yard. she frowns and walks over to you. she's also tipsy. everyone in the house has been drinking, so it isn't a surprise. "you ok my angel?" she says in a bubbly attitude. drinking made her overly happy. she notices the hickey on your neck almost straight away. "ugh, that's what you were doing." she jokingly says, pretending to be disgusted with you. realistically she didn't care, she would if she was sober. "love bites at your age is pathetic" she continues to say. "ok be quiet" you awkwardly giggle with embarrassment. the hickey wasn't exactly your choice though, was it?

every mother knows when something is wrong with their child. she notices your mood quickly. she sees you're upset, she sees it in your eyes. "are you ok?" she asks, sitting down next to you. she looks into your eyes and sees pure sadness, like you were going to cry. "y/n?" she says as you didn't respond before. you look up to see alex walk outside. you quickly act happy and tell your mom everything is fine before standing up to walk over to him.

"what did you say to her?" he whispers in your ear as he secretly grips onto your forearm like you were in trouble. "i didn't say anything actually." you look at him in disgust, yanking your arm away from him. "you're causing a scene. stop being childish" he quietly says to you as he notices a few people looking at you. "if you weren't such a dick i'd be fine" you angrily say to him, storming back into the house. a few eyes were on alex, making his blood boil. you've caused a scene, making him seem like the bad one. which he is, but he doesn't want to admit that.

he follows you into the house, into a room where nobody else was. he immediately slaps your cheek, making you gasp and press your hand against it. "ow" you say, giving him the 'puppy eyes'. "if you ever draw attention to me like that again, you're never fucking leaving the house" he angrily points in your face as tears form in your eyes. "go ahead, cry. you little bitch" he sarcastically laughs at you, making you feel humiliated and worthless. "go cry about it." he says to you as you exit the room. you need to get away from him completely, so you lock yourself in the bathroom. he leaves you be, he needs to calm himself down more than anything. he's just yelled at you, your relatives outside definitely heard, but they were all either too drunk or tipsy to do anything about it.

you stay in the bathroom for at least 30 minutes until you heard a knock on the door. "go away" you say, thinking it was alex. "what?" you hear a female voice say. you quickly recognize that it's one of your cousins. "oh.. sorry" you say, sniffling as you opened the door. she walks in, locking the door behind her. you're both girls, so you didn't care about peeing in front of one another. you leaned against the wall as your cousin did her business in the toilet. "what's wrong? why're you crying?" she asks, looking at you. she sees your cheeks stained red, one cheek redder than the other. she sees how much of a mess you look. the stains on your outfit, the hickey on your neck, the makeup running down your face.

"nothing just.. nothing" you begin to say, but stop yourself to brush it off. you wipe your tears and fake a smile. you didn't want to even be around your family anymore. you want to go home. that's rare. you were home for weeks, and now that you're finally out, you're homesick. everyone there was drunk, you didn't fit in with the crowd. "if you see my mom, tell her i've gone home" you say, quickly exiting the bathroom to find alex. you head outside to see him laughing and drinking with your family. it made you jealous, and feel a bit worthless. that should be you, not him.

"alex" you say from afar, grabbing his attention from the back door. you motion your head for him to come to you, and so he does. "what, love?" he asks, stumbling over his feet and placing a hand on your waist. he's been drinking again, so of course the alcohol had its effects.

"i want to go home" you cross your arms across your chest. "i can't drive, i'm fucked" he laughs, talking about his drunkenness. "we'll stay here for the night" he says, taking another sip of his drink. "then i'll drive us home" you innocently say. you'd do anything to get out of here. "no. just go upstairs, you'll be fine" he reassures you, leaning down to kiss your cheek before walking away to remain partying with your family. you exhaled deeply through your nose, walking back through the house. you walk upstairs, where you remain alone for the rest of the night.

#toxic turner

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just2bubbly · 3 years

Text

Celebrity Crush

Masterlist

Summary

“Did Mom have a celebrity crush on Dad?“

This revolves around Kaider but from Torin's POV and Peony here refers to Kai and Cinder's child.

When Peony (gen 2) comes up with a very strange question to Torin!

Ship: Kaider

Words: 1590 words

Torin’ perspective-

"Torin-da, did Mom have a celebrity crush on Dad?" The six-year-old asked the royal advisor with wonder-waiting eyes.

The Advisor on the other hand was very much panicked, wondering how the young princess got to know about the word 'crush'. He suspected she had picked on this word from one of her visit to Carswell Thorne. He wanted to rub the fact that 'Sending his daughter to Mr Thorne was not the best decision' in Emperor Kaito's face- but he would do no such thing.

"Where did you learn the word 'crush' Peony?" he asked dodging her previous question.

"Uh-.. Actually, Uncle Thorne said that Aunt Cress had a crush on him, so I just searched what the word meant." She said avoiding eye contact, just like any child caught red-handedly stealing from the jar of cookies would do.

"I don't think you should look into words like 'crush' as the age of 6" he warned, collecting his stuff to leave.

"But Torin-da, I am about to turn 7 next month" she swore, running off to block him from leaving away.

"Well, that does not make you any older to know about the word, young lady." He said with a bit of grand-fatherly authority to his voice. Not necessarily that he was scolding the curious child; she was hardly the one being scolded because of her cute actions and sweet voice.

"Torin-da but what of my earlier question?" she asked her voice full of determination.

"Why don't you go and ask Kaito?" he suggested, obviously playing the child around. He remembered how even Kai had taken up liking to the word 'shit' when he had heard President Vargas saying it. He had pestered Torin with his questions for weeks but due to royal protocol, Torin faced his curiousness with nothing but an emotionless face. At last, he had gone to former Emperor Rikan, who had laughed at Kai and explained a few things to the young prince, years ago.

"Torin-da!" she shouted in his face to get his attention, "Did Mommy have a celebrity crush on Dad?" she continued.

"Why do you think that?" he cross-questioned the little princess who was set on a mission to know if Cinder had a crush on Kai.

"Well, you see Mommy was a mechanic before she became the Queen and Dad- well he was THE PRINCE, so he was a celebrity" she explained slowly as if explaining two plus two equals four to a child. Even though little Peony looked like Cinder, she had taken after Kai in all ways possible. She had picked up her parent's sarcasm like she would not. However, her speaking style, her small conquests in the Palace reminded Torin too much of little Kai.

"Your Mommy was the Princess of Luna too, Peony. Why would she have a crush on Kai?"

She stared at him with a look of confusion upon that remark, another one of Kai's speciality again. After what felt like a few minutes of silence, she blamed, "Torin-da you are fooling me around. I can see through it. Tell me did Mom have a celebrity crush on Dad? "

He sighed realizing that it was going to be one interesting afternoon with little Peony. Hence, he decided to keep his work aside for some time and sat down with the little child on the nearby sofa.

"You see Peony darling, I think it was the other way around." He stated.

"Meaning?" she asked, her curiosity perked up, now that Torin was giving her his full attention.

"I mean that Daddy had a celebrity crush on Mommy!" he exclaimed to the very confused child.

"Really?" she asked with her eyes full of doubt, she was only believing it because the royal advisor was saying things.

"Yeah," he said with the same wondrous tone as that of the six- soon-to-be seven-year-old.

"You are saying that Mommy was Daddy's celebrity crush growing up?" she asked to confirm with her wide brown eyes.

Torin nodded. He waited to continue till she had digested this new piece of information.

"Actually Kai idolized your Mom for some amount of time and he was so in love with her." He said, wondering if Peony was interested to hear about her parents or for that matter, her parent's love life or was he over-stepping some of his boundaries-

"Continue Torin-da! And what do you mean by idolizing?" she crowed, cutting short his train of thought.

"Idolize means someone who they want to be like-as in worship or admiring Peony" he explained to the child who had yet time to master the vast oceans of the English language.

This unknown information seemed to increase her curiosity ten folds. The little child had no idea how Kai had a crush the size of Luna on the young princess Selene and later on mechanic Cinder, who turned out to be the same person. He internally smiled- wondering what a calamity it would have been if Selene and Cinder would not be the same person!

She subtly asked, "But why would The Emperor idolize a mechanic?"

"Peony," he said somewhat scolding the child, "all jobs are important, just because the emperor is famous does not mean that the mechanic is not an important part of the society. Your mother was the best one in the entire New Beijing. I am not sure but I think she is yet the Best Mechanic in the city."

"Sorry", she muttered under her breath while he continued with his narration. The six-year-old had no idea what her parents had gone through. They had yet decided against telling her about their hardships, so he decided to keep the descriptions at the minimum.

"Your Mom was a Hero for the world. You might not know it, but she saved the world even while being a mechanic- She was brave. Your Dad liked her for that, he admired her bravery. Later, when your mom was fighting against evil, your dad could not help her but that did not stop him from thinking of her every single second."

"Torin-da, are you saying Dad liked Mom before her?" she asked now seeing the entire scenario in an entirely different light.

"I guess yes." He confirmed, smilingly at the little child's innocence to understanding her parent's life.

"As far as I remember, Kai was completely blinded by his love for the scrawny mechanic he had seen in a garage, which would be your Mom, Peony"

"Did he talk about Mom to you, when she was being a hero?" she blurted.

"Not exactly, he just thought about her. I was not very fond of your Mom back then." He confessed.

"Why? Mom is so lovely!" she exclaimed, already defending The Empress.

"We had different thoughts and I did not know her back then but it would be a story for another day, Peony."

She nodded, obviously not liking things being kept hidden from her. She was a born seeker for information- especially her parents. Why everyone adored them was much of a mystery to her until recently!

"Torin-da, I want to confirm so Dad liked Mom as a mechanic and not as a Lunar Queen?" she asked.

"Absolutely! He had that-"

"Celebrity crush!" she provided, clapping her hands.

Laughing at the child's antics, he said, "Yeah, your Dad had a 'Celebrity crush' on Mom."

"I am going to tell Mom this- Bye Torin-da!" She said running off to find Cinder. Peony looked like someone who had just learned a dear secret and was about to break it off to their best friend. She had no idea how her mom already knew that. The Emperor might still have a celebrity crush on his wife, he will never know.

Collecting his things, he was ready to walk out of the chamber. Until, the Emperor walked on him, a look of amusement on his face.

"Torin, "

"Your Majesty-" he said out of habit, doubting that Kai might have heard the entire conversation between the two.

"-I had a celebrity crush on Cinder?"

"Oh! Please Kaito, the child insisted to know the truth. Besides you do have a crush on Cinder."

"Stop telling my daughter that, Torin," he said, the tip of his ears slightly turning red.

"Well Peony might have guessed it sooner rather than later, Your Majesty-' he said, grinning at the Emperor.

"And if I were you I would stop her before she goes to The Empress," he advised.

"There's nothing to hide about what Cinder already knows of. However, if she comes to me lecturing about morals and values that Peony should learn, I am definitely sending her to you, Torin"

It was another interesting afternoon for the royal advisor with his new student. Only God knew how many more were to come yet!

A/N: This was not actually Kaider fluff but Kaider fluff at the same time and I also wanted to write something from Torin's perspective so here's my take. I think it turned out pretty good. I had to actually ask my cousin if he knew meanings of words like 'admire' or 'idolize' to figure out if Peony would know them. Torin-da was supposed to mean like ‘dada’ used in the sense of grandfather in many Asian countries. Phew! things I have to do for imagining things!

Be sure to like, reblog and comment, if you like it!

#kaider fanfiction #kaider #peony linh #peony #linh cinder #gen 2 #kaito #emperor kaito #konn torin #celebrity crush #the royal advisor and the young princess #just2bubbly fics #lunar chronicles #marrisa meyer #all characters belong to the author #cinder #fluff #just talks #parenting

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Note

hey, once in twitter we talk about how much we love Castle, so i was thinking if you could write a rowaelin scene based on caskett ♥️

OI GIO!!!!!! Ok so I had so much fun writing this. I decided to start from the very beginning so everyone (even those who didn’t watch it) know what’s going on. If you never watched Castle, you MUST!!! Also, fyi, the warnings are NOT about Ro or Aelin, they are absolutely fine in here. No sad shit, I promise

Warnings: mentions of graphic death

Gone death

Aelin winked at the red headed man in front of her, a grin plastered on her lips.

She handed him back the book, waving off his thank you as he scrunched away to enjoy the rest of the party. She looked around, half paying attention to the hundreds of people who had come to the release of her latest book.

Since Aelin was a seven, she had had a deep fascination with mystery and horror. Thankfully, she was also a fucking amazing writer, which allowed her to transform that fascination into her job. Now, twenty six years later, Aelin was the bestseller author of several stand alone as well as a series of eight books, all of them following the same two main characters while they investigated a series of gruesome murders. She had loved the series, had started writing them at fifteen and published the first one at twenty five. She thought she could write about Sam and Lyria forever.

Until she realized she couldn’t.

Aelin felt a hand gripping her elbow, and had to hold in her sigh as she turned around to stare at her ex husband.

One of Aelin’s biggest regrets in life was marrying so early. Chaol had been her college boyfriend, and they got married few months after they started dating. Looking back now, Aelin could see how stupid she had been, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. They got a divorce less than a year later, and Aelin would have been happy in never looking at him again. Unfortunately, he worked with her publishing team, and if she added that to their past together, she could almost understand why Chaol always felt so entitled to know and control everything in her life.

It was fucking distressing and annoying.

“If it’s not my money sucking ex husband. What did I do this time?”

He had a fake smile on his lips, looking at her as if he didn’t dislike her. “You killed your golden goose, Galathynius. You fucking killed your main characters.”

Aelin shrugged, taking a sip of her white wine. “It was time.” She started walking away, and had to hide her scowl when she realized Chaol was following her.

Some people couldn’t get the fucking hint, could they?

“Why would you do that? Sam and Lyria were making you filthy rich, and everyone loved them.”

“They got boring, that’s why.” Aelin stopped in her tracks, turning back to Chaol. She crossed her arms, raising her chin. “Writing The Guild used to be fun, used to be exciting. Writing Sam used to be interesting, but since the seventh book it has just been work. I don’t write for money, Chaol. I write because I love it. When I stopped loving it, I decided it was time to move on from them.”

“Wow, and God forbid you ever have to actually work like an adult, right?”

“It. Was. Time. Besides, Sam and Lyria are not the golden goose, I am.”

She said the words loud and clear, ignoring the frown on his face. Aelin always knew that Chaol saw her writing more as a job than as a passion, and it pissed her off endlessly. She turned around again, walking to the bar where her cousin and son were sitting. Her heels clinked against the marble floor, and the sound was almost loud enough to hide the fact that Chaol was following her. Again.

She sighed loudly as he began speaking. “You could have made them retire, could have made them get married and leave the force. Hell, you could have made them join the goddamn circus. But no, Aelin Galathynius must be dramatic and put two bullets on her main characters’ heads.” When she ignored him, he just kept talking. “What the hell are you going to do now, Aelin? You permanently ended The Guild with your stupidity, and we both know you don’t have any other ideas.”

At that, Aelin spun on her heels, clenching her fists to stop herself from physically attacking Chaol. The photographers would love seeing her getting into a brawl, and most of the rest of the party would probably find it immensely entertaining. Lysandra, however, wouldn’t find it so amusing. Her PR and best friend loved some mischief, but she also worked hard enough to make sure Aelin’s public image was a good one, so Aelin wouldn’t mess that up by fighting her ex.

“Who says that?”

Chaol snorted. “The nine week delay to publish the eighth book should be indication enough.”

“Can’t rush talent.” Aelin said, a nasty smile on her lips.

“I won’t say you’re not talented, Aelin, but you are out of ideas. You weren’t bored, you had a writer’s block and freaked out.” Chaol said, oblivious to Aelin’s rising temper. He looked at her, giving an infuriating shrug. “You have a month to hand me the new idea. A full and useable idea. The first manuscript, preferably. You’re famous, write any shit and people will eat it up.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin said through clenched teeth.

Chaol merely smiled as he walked away. “A month, Aelin.”

Aelin wanted to go after him and smack his face against one of the piles of books in the room. Fortunately for him, Aelin was stopped by several people who wanted her autograph in the newest and last book of The Guild. It probably took her an hour to get through everyone— talking and giving every single person her full attention— until she finally managed to make her way to the bar.

She spotted Aedion’s head first, his broad figure standing up against the bar and talking to a pitch-black haired boy, Nino, sitting down near him.

“Who does homework at a party?” She heard Aedion asking.

“I have a test next week.”

“So do I. It’s called dealing with your mom while she contemplates hitting her head against a wall to force an idea to come out.”

Nino laughed, looking at his uncle. “She’ll come up with something, she always does.”

Aelin smiled at her son, his words warming her. She had had Nino extremely young— had only been seventeen at the time— and he became her friend along with being her son. She approached her cousin from behind, listening to him ask for a glass of champagne.

“Make that two, please.” Aelin said and Aedion’s eyes immediately snapped to her as she approached the boy sitting down and passed an arm through his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, mom.”

Aedion grinned, raising his glass and gesturing around. “Built yourself an empire, Aeae.”

Aelin smiled in return, winking at her cousin. “Always said I would. But tell me, Aedion…”

“Uh-oh.” The boy Aelin was half hugging said, a humorous smirk on his face. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Cut it, genius.” Aedion snapped, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “What’s up, Ae?”

“Did you tell Chaol I was having trouble writing?” Aelin smiled sweetly, even though she wanted to strangle her cousin right now. The look on his face was enough to give her the answer.

“I told him nothing of the sort.” Aedion replied quickly, defending himself. Aelin only raised an eyebrow at him. “Ok, I— I might have let slip that for the past nine weeks you have been walking around the apartment with either a cup of coffee or a bottle of wine while you curse the Gods for lack of creativity.”

“I am going to kill you.” Aelin said, a smile still plastered on her face as she noticed some cameras pointed at her. It was always like this whenever she went out with Nino.

“Ae, that’s ok. You’re an artist, that sort of thing is expected.”

“I can’t believe it, Aedion! The deal for you to live with us was plain and simple.”

“No meddling on her work.” Nino reminded Aedion, the boy looking immensely pleased at his uncle’s doom. “And no Chaol.”

“You know how things are with Chaol. No. Talking. About. My. Work.“ Aelin said, temper rising once more.

“What is there to talk about anyways?”

“Uncle!” Nino said exasperatedly.

“Whatever there is or isn’t to talk about,” Aelin was saying, jaw clenched. “I would appreciate if you didn’t share it with my ex husband.”

“Oh, I think I hear Lysandra calling me.” Aedion interrupted, absolutely ignoring Aelin. She narrowed her eyes, knowing damn well that Lysandra would never be calling Aedion judging by the brunette’s deep dislike of her best friend’s cousin. Aelin tried to stop him, but he just started walking away faster, shouting that they could talk at home.

It was just a fancy way of saying they wouldn’t discuss at all.

She turned around, looking at Nino. He had a smirk on his face as he looked down his physics book, a pen on his left hand.

“You should have stopped me.” Aelin grumbled.

“Letting uncle Aed move in?” Nino asked, looking up at his mom. “Nah, I think it’s sweet. Besides, I like him.”

Aelin only grumbled more, taking the two glasses the barista had put in front of her. She smiled in thanks, holding one of the glasses and placing the other in front of Nino. He smiled humorously, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m only sixteen, right?”

“You’re an old soul.”

“Well me and my old soul can wait until I’m twenty-one.”

Aelin smiled at her son, all anger and tightness leaving her body. Nino had always been her steadying rock, since he was a baby his presence had always been enough to calm her down. Differently from her, however, Nino was extremely serious and responsible, always following the rules, studying and making sure everything was right.

Most times Aelin found it immensely funny to see how different from her he had turned out.

“When I was your age—“ She was saying, a grin on her face. She immediately stopped, frowning. “Can’t tell you that story. Too inappropriate for your innocent ears.”

Nino snickered, pushing the champagne glass away.

“Don’t laugh, boy, this is exactly my point. Don’t you want to have wild, law-breaking, inappropriate stories that you can’t tell your kids one day?” She rested her elbows at the counter, a smile on her lips.

“You’ve lived enough of those for both of us now, mom.”

Aelin snorted, taking a sip of her champagne. “You’re studying physics at a party. At your age I would have been drinking.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You were pregnant.” Nino said slowly, a winning smirk at his face.

“Damn it.” Aelin muttered, earning a laugh from Nino. Despite her crazy stories, Nino knew very well how responsible she had been during her pregnancy with him. Nino, since before birth, had been the one thing capable of making her act like a serious adult. “You want to know why I killed Sam and Lyria?”

Nino raised his brows at the change in the topic, but nodded just the same.

“Because life should be an adventure, sweetheart. It should be full of unexpected turns and plot twists. It should be full of funny stories, embarrassing stories, inappropriate stories.” Her smile became soft, and she grabbed one of his hands. “I had to kill them because it wasn’t an adventure anymore, it wasn’t surprising. I knew exactly where they would always go, what they would always do. If my own characters weren’t surprising me, how could I hope they would surprise anyone else?”

“Mom…”

“I’m not telling you to be like I was when I was younger, it’s definitely not your type. I just want to make sure that you know you can make mistakes every now and then. That I don’t expect you to be like me, but I also don’t expect you to be perfect.”

He matched her soft smile, squeezing her hand slightly. “I know, mom.”

“Good.” She straightened, taking her champagne glass and looking around. “You know what else is boring? These parties. After having sixteen of these, the seventeenth seems rather dull.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, people praising you seems awfully boring, mom.”

Aelin grinned, resting her hips against the counter as she turned fully to him. “It’s always the same thing. ‘Oh my god, I’m such a big fan’, or maybe the ‘Where’d you get your ideas?’.

“Let’s not forget the fully adult men asking you to sign their chest.” Nino’s face crumbled in disgust.

Aelin laughed out loud, drinking from her glass. “I don’t mind that one very much.”

“Well, I do, if you’re interested in knowing.”

She snorted, putting the now empty glass down. “I don’t know, Nino. I just wanted for someone to surprise me once. I want something new to give me inspiration, to be my new muse. For the past eight years I have been hearing the same thing over and over again. I just want someone to catch me by surprise, to say something so shocking I won’t have a reaction, so surprising that I will—“

“Ms. Galathynius.” She was interrupted by a brisk tap on her shoulder. Nino raised his eyebrows at the person standing behind her, trying to get her attention in such impolite manner.

She forced a polite smile on her face, taking a pen from her bra. She turned around, raising the pen. “Where do I sign?”

A broad shouldered man was now standing in front of her, and even in heels Aelin had to tip her head back to stare at him. His arms her hanging by his side, his clothes extremely casual for him to be part of the party. His white button down and leather jacket hugged his arms and torso, and if his face wasn’t so enthralling, Aelin would probably have had a hard time not staring at the rest of him.

His features looked somewhat tense. His hair— probably blond, but looked so light that it could only be described as silver— a mess, almost as if he had ran his hands too many times through it. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and his pine green eyes were stuck on her face with such intensity that Aelin felt her face heating.

“Detective Whitethorn, OPD.” He said, voice grave and words rolling out of his tongue with a lovely Scottish accent. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight.”

Aelin registered his words, but didn’t have any reaction. She just stared at the man, her eyes looking quickly at the Orynth Police Department badge he was holding.

Nino laughed quietly, reaching over his mom to take the pen out of her hand. “Well, this is new.”

Only then she turned slightly to her son, a scowl at her face. “No shit, Sherlock.”

—-----

Aelin had always written about this, but she never thought that she would herself be like one of the characters from her story.

Honestly, she wasn’t nervous at all, just curious.

Hundreds of people had seen her all afternoon and night at the party, and she knew that she hadn’t killed anybody, so fear was off the table. Now, why the police thought she had any knowledge about the crime at all was what made her so damn curious.

Upon arriving at the precinct, detective Whitethorn had left her at the care of two identical men. Both had the exact same face, but where one seemed to radiate light, the other one seemed to suck it. As they took her to wait in the interrogation room, she thought that they would make great main characters.

“Whitethorn will be back shortly, ma’am.” The serious twin said, walking out of the room as she sat down. The other twin, however, lingered.

He was staring at her, his head cocked to the side just like a wolf seizing his prey. Aelin stared right back, raising one eyebrow at him. Despite knowing she hadn’t killed anybody, something inside of her was tensing at his staring. Did they think that her involvement with the murder was more serious than she had initially thought?

“You killed your main characters.” He said, and the air rushed out of Aelin’s lungs. She scowled, suddenly pissed that he had made her so tense and it was actually just about a goddamn book.

“Yep. Bullet right through the head.” She made a finger gun and put it against her forehead. “Disappointed?”

He shrugged, resting against the threshold. “It was brilliant, but I adored Sam and Lyria. After eight years following the series, seeing your favorite characters being killed makes you want to kill the author.”

Aelin smiled when he winked at her. “Pardon. If it makes you feel better, I have already been scolded by my ex husband. Said it would have been better if I had just made Sam and Lyria join the circus.”

“Sam would have been a shit clown.”

Aelin nodded. “You’re right. Should have told that to my ex.”

The detective laughed, but was immediately interrupted when Whitethorn’s voice sounded from behind him. “Fenrys.”

“Sorry, Rowan.” Fenrys grimaced exaggeratedly, and Aelin grinned. “See you later, blondie.”

Aelin just nodded, her eyes immediately on Whitethorn when his figure approached the door.

“Ms. Galathynius.”

“Detective Whitethorn.” She eyed the manila folders he was holding. Some papers and photos were sticking out, but Aelin couldn’t really tell what they were.

He sat in front of her after closing the door, opening one of the folders. His eyebrows rose as he read, and he eyed Aelin quickly before sighing and putting the open folder at the table. “You have quite the history with the law for a best selling author, Ms. Galathynius. Public disturbance, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest…”

Aelin shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “Living all your adventures through paper seem a little too nerdish for me.”

Detective Whitethorn rested his forearms on the table, inclining himself forward. Aelin did the same, and his eyes narrowed at her.

“You stole a police horse once.”

“Borrowed.” Her smile widened. Detective Whitethorn, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it funny in the slightest.

“And you were,” he looked down at the folder before looking at her again. “Nude.”

Aelin shrugged once more. “It was springtime.”

“And every time the charges were dropped.” He drew back, resting against his chair. “Care to explain?”

“The mayor enjoys reading The Guild.” Aelin sighed dramatically, propping on her elbows and resting her face against her hand. “You know how people love to bond over mutual interests. And he loves my son, there’s that too. But that’s besides the point.”

“Oh, is it?” For the first time, the detective seemed entertained.

“Yes. I don’t think you’re here to talk about my college prank of a decade ago, detective.” She half smiled. “So why don’t you make your murder questions so I can go home and convince my son to stop studying so his eyes won’t fall out?”

“Ms. Galathynius.” He said, smirking at her. Aelin didn’t think it was a good smirk, though. “I fully believe that the cocky, irreverent, hot girl slash genius act makes people eat out of the palm of your hand in your glamorous world, but I work for a living, so why don’t you cut the bullshit because in my world, you can be only two things.”

“You think I’m hot, detective?”

Whitethorn’s smirk didn’t waver. “You can be the person who makes my life easier and goes home quickly, or the person who makes my life harder and stays handcuffed here until you decide to be the first option.”

“I could make so many inappropriate jokes right now, you have no idea.” Aelin said, and she could swear his smirk turned more playful. She smirked back, crossing her arms. “I supposed I shouldn’t want to be the one making your life harder.”

He didn’t answer, just let go of the manila folder containing her information and opened the other one. He took out the picture of a brunette woman. Dark hair, brown skin and big black eyes, the girl couldn’t be older than twenty five.

Aelin grabbed the picture, analyzing it. “Hum, pretty.”

“And dead.”

“Gods, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

He didn’t reply, just took another picture out. This time it was a man, probably at the same age, but instead of bright and soft features the girl possessed, his skin was pale and blue eyes glassy.

“Recognize them?”

Aelin shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed, letting go of the pictures. “I’ve been to dozens of signings, events and parties, detective Whitethorn. I can’t possibly recall every face.”

“Not what I meant. Do you recognize their features?” He asked, tapping the pictures.

Aelin looked back down once more, looking at those faces until something hit her fully. “Sam and Lyria. They look like my characters Sam and Lyria.”

Detective Whitethorn seemed satisfied with her answer, because he took other two pictures and placed in front of her. One of them showed the girl, her body dressed in a series of white cloths, wild flowers surrounding her whole body. Where her eyes should be, two big daisies laid, and looking more carefully, Aelin could also see daisies stuffed in her mouth and nostrils.

The other picture showed the boy, his body laying inside a casket, instead of white cloths hugging his body, his were blood red. The floor around the casket showed a series of markings drawn in white chalk.

“Holy fuck.” She breathed.

Detective Whitethorn was eyeing her carefully. “Her name was Mandy, his was Felix. He was found dead two weeks ago, but we only made the connection after we found her today. The deaths look exactly like the ones described in chapter six and twenty two of your book Gone Death.”

“A fan?” Aelin asked, a humorous smile on her lips.

“Yes, a really deranged fan.”

“Oh, you don’t seem deranged.”

He looked up from the pictures, frowning. “I’m sorry?”

“Detective Whitethorn, I am a best selling author and yet I can count on my fingers the amount of people who even know that Gone Death exists.” She smiled when he rolled his eyes. “It’s ok, I always thought it was a terribly underrated book. Only hardcore groupies ever read that one, though.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you enjoy constantly praising yourself, ma’am?”

“Oh, you have no idea, sir.”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “Does any of these groupies ever write you fan mail?” She just stared at him blankly. “Disturbing ones.”

Aelin shuddered, and this time it wasn’t for show. “Oh, try being a murder mystery writer. Every fan mail I receive is disturbing. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“It’s because sometimes, in cases like this, we find that—“

“The killer attempts to contact the image of his obsession, yes.” Aelin completed his sentence, earning a questioning look back.

She looked back at him, and curiosity beyond this case sparkled inside of her. She could feel an idea brewing, and the more he talked, the more interesting he got.

“I write murders for a living. I’m well versed in psychopathic methodologies and the process of murder. Another occupational hazard, I guess.” She inclined herself forward. “And has anyone ever said you have pretty eyes?”

He stared at her, mouth open as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He finally rolled his eyes, pulling the pictures back to him. “And so I assume you won’t have any problems with us going over you mail, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Be my guest. I have thrown some out, however.” When he looked at her, she just shrugged. “My son lives in that house, detective. And as much as I’m not a strict mom in the slightest, there are things I will not allow my son to be near. Middle aged man sending naked pictures and blood vials is one example.”

He nodded, getting up. Aelin looked up at him, jerking her chin in the direction of the manila folders.

“Can I get a copy of that?”

“A copy?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Yeah. I have poker night with other best selling authors and you have no idea how jealous this would make them.”

He hesitated for a moment before slowly asking. “Jealous?”

“In my world, detective, having a copycat is like wining the fucking Nobel.” She said, half surprised at the complete incredulity on his face. “So?”

He threw the folders at the table, placing his hands down and bringing his face inches away from hers. “People are dying, Ms. Galathynius.”

“I’m not asking for the bodies.”

He rolled his eyes, drawing back. He took the folders from the table, walking to the door. “I think we’re done here.”

Aelin stared at his back, seeing him leave the room. Once he was out of sight, she took her phone out, looking through her contacts until she found the one.

“Good night, Rolfe.” She greeted the current mayor of Orynth. “You have a direct say in the OPD business, don’t you? Because as you know, The Guild just ended but…”

Aelin looked at the door once more, and even though he wasn’t there, she smiled.

“…but I think I just found my new inspiration for a new series.”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @yesdreamblog @multifandommessblog @heirofthenightcourt

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headoverheelsforramsey · 3 years

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Hi Sruti!!! So yesterday I was thinking about Di's family (the part which lives in India) and it got me thinking about Meera.

Does Meera have any other siblings apart from Abhimanyu? What is their age difference?

Where does her family live? Is it in Boston or somewhere near or in India?

What is Ethan's relationship like with her family?

Who is he closest to in her family? (Like for my Ethan, he is closest to Di's didun and her brother)

I am sorry for so many questions, but I get so excited everytime I learn about a MC who shares the same roots as me.

Ahh Dri. I am honoured that Meera crept into your thoughts. Sorry for answering this so late. ❤️

Does Meera have any other siblings apart from Abhimanyu? What is their age difference?

No. Abhimanyu is her only sibling, but she has a lot of cousins tho and also a few of them to whom she is particularly close.

The age difference between her and Abhimanyu is around 4 years (3 years and 10 months to be exact)

Where does her family live? Is it in Boston or somewhere near or in India?

Majority of her family lives in India. Abhimanyu lives in Australia with his family for work. One of her cousin lives in New York and that is the closest family member (in terms of distance) to Meera.

What is Ethan's relationship like with her family?

Ethan was actually pretty nervous about meeting Meera's parents when he learnt how big these things are in Indian households, but he is one charismatic man and his natural charm eventually wins everyone over.

I can see him becoming close with her father fast, (fun fact Meera's dad is the cooler of both her parents) bonding over their love for Meera and sharing embarrassing stories of her, also both of them try to learn more of each other's language to communicate better.

On the other hand I see Meera's mom showing a bit more resistance and protectiveness towards her daughter. But gradually she sees Ethan's love for Meera and becomes the mother, Louise was never to him.

The age difference wasn't a big factor for her parents although some relatives did try to make a big deal out of it but niether Meera and Ethan, nor her parents paid any heed to it.

Who is he closest to in her family? (Like for my Ethan, he is closest to Di's didun and her brother)

Ethan with Di's didun such a cute combo! 🥺

Ethan is closest to her brother Abhimanyu and her cousin sister Debolina (the one who lives in New York).

I HC Abhi first being protective about Meera like any older brother, especially during books one and two. He was so angry with Ethan for mistreating his baby sister that he had tried to convince Meera to let go of Ethan and find her own happiness.

But eventually as the two became serious Abhi found a friend in Ethan and so did Ethan. Meera was surprised and disappointed to know they also made plans that didn't include or revolve around her.

Debolina and Meera were amazingly close for cousins. This was because she was born to a single mother (Meera's maternal aunt) in the US itself. Her mother had a bright career and often found it difficult juggling Debolina as well as her work.

So when Debolina was three her mother brought her back to India and asked Meera's mother to bring her up. Meera and Lina (that's what she is known as better) was raised as siblings for the next fifteen years.

Lina moved to New York to study fasion three to four years prior to Meera moving to Boston. She is officially the first family member to meet Ethan in flesh. (Abhi was first via video call)

Ethan soon became fond of her and gradually became her unofficial big brother and local guardian. They were so close that she was one of the people he included in Meera's super secret proposal plan alongwith Sienna and her childhood bestfriend.

Also I plan on putting Lina and Bryce together but I have no damn idea on how! 😂

Thanks so much for the ask lovely. Again never apologize for sending in asks, trust me I become interested in MC's with same roots as me a lot too. Also these were so fun to answer and it really brightened the fifteen minutes of my shitty day.

#asked and answered #gryffindordaughterofathena #ethan x meera #cue the queue

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heavencollins · 3 years

Text

Top 10 Films of 2020: Part Two

And the last five of my top ten are...

5: Unpregnant, directed by Rachel Goldenberg and written by Rachel Goldenberg, Jennifer Kaytin Robinson, Jenni Hendriks, Ted Caplan, and Bill Parker.

This HBO Max Original was the tipping point for me actually purchasing HBO Max, and I haven’t regretted it since. Starring two absolute queens, Barbie Ferriera and Haley Lu Richardson, Unpregnant tells the story of a teenage girl who finds herself in a situation she wants nothing to do with: pregnancy. Her boyfriend informs her that the condom broke a few weeks ago but he didn’t tell her, which is fucked up in it’s own right, but that they should keep the baby and raise it and get married. Veronica, played by Richardson, quickly says no and runs to her old friend’s house; Bailey, played by Ferriera. Veronica learned that you cannot access abortions in her state without parental consent, so she makes a plan to roadtrip to New Mexico from Missouri to get an abortion that should be a human right.

Veronica and Bailey have been estranged for years, as Veronica became popular and Bailey fell into the realm of introvert, pothead, and nerd. But Bailey misses their friendship, and says yes to going on this road trip because she knows they’ll have time to grow close again. Throughout the road trip, the girls reminisce and become closer than they have before; Bailey revealing her sexuality, Veronica facing the reality of her shitty relationship and not-great friends, and the fact that chosen family is often better than real family.

The film is aggressively pro-choice and feminist, but also is a feel-great movie, not just good, but great. it made me both laugh and cry, as well as cheer on both characters. There’s a lot of really, really, really wholesome narrative within this and it’s a film targeted at teens for teens. It shows what a healthy relationship is and that no matter how different your best friend is from you, you’ll still have the same connection as always. I love this one.

4: Saint Frances, directed by Alex Thompson and written by Kelly O’Sullivan.

One of my favorite facts about this film is that the lead star wrote it, and she works as a team with the director, Alex Thompson, and is partners with him in life as well. Saint Frances focuses on a 30-something woman named Bridget who finds herself with no set path in life. She’s childless, sleeping around, has no real career other than waitressing, and doesn’t know what she wants to do with herself. Her friend recommends her as a nanny to a lesbian couple around her age who are having their second kid and need help with their six year old daughter, Frances.

Shortly before starting her job as Frances’ nanny, Bridget undergoes an abortion via pill, which means you bleed in the safety of your home and get to do it outside of the medical appointment. This plays heavily into the plot, as her periods end up being heavier than ever throughout the rest of the film and it becomes a slight joke between all of the characters. It also shows how little Bridget really cares for her own health, as she doesn’t think to go to the doctors at all and that it’s totally normal.

Frances helps Bridget grow up, as well as bringing her two mom’s together after the birth mother of the newborn suffers from extreme post-partum depression. Bridget and Frances end up becoming best friends, and it’s a truly touching film that feels like a home, if that makes sense. I could watch this again and again and never get sick of it. O’Sullivan and Thompson are a fantastic writer-director team.

3: Shirley, directed by Josephine Decker and written by Sarah Gubbins and Susan Scarf Merrell.

A movie about one of the greatest horror novelists and short story writers of all time set in Vermont starring Elisabeth Moss? Alright, I’m in. Shirley held very tightly in the number one spot until just this month, because it was that good. Moss plays Shirley Jackson, the horror writer we all know and love, and there’s something haunting about her.

While the story is highly fictionalized, with two characters being completely made up (the young couple played by Odessa Young and Logan Lerman), the film takes place right after Jackson published The Lottery and as she’s writing her next novel. Her husband, Stanley Hyman (played by Michael Stuhlbarg), is a professor at Bennington College and Jackson finds herself shying away from the stereotypical role of a faculty wife. She’s aloof, callous, straight up rude to the other wives and prefers to spend her time alone in her room, writing. Hyman prefers to cheat on her with younger woman and yell at Jackson for not being more social. This is most likely true to real life.

The young couple work as a mirror for Jackson, people she can project her novel onto and try to see how it will play out. It’s reflective of her writing style. This story is told with lavish cinematography and a score that reminds you of wind whipping between the trees, one of the best scores I’ve ever heard, actually, and it’s just lovely. Despite being mainly fictionalized with some truth sprinkled in, it’s by far Decker’s most palatable work for a wide audience (though I loved Madeline’s Madeline). I highly recommend this one to anyone.

2. Never Rarely Sometimes Always, directed and written by Eliza Hittman.

I’ve loved every single film that Hittman has put out, but this one is especially poignant in the current political climate. Abortions should be widely available, but sadly they aren’t and often teenagers have to travel to other state’s to have to have their procedure done without putting themselves in danger by telling their parents.

In Never Rarely Sometimes Always, two cousins go on a trip to New York City to procure an abortion procedure, not informing their parents beforehand. Except nothing goes to plan; they end up having to sleep in strange places, use all of their savings, and even steal portions of money from the grocery store they both work at. This film is quiet, sad, and real.

Perhaps the best scene in this is when the title comes into play. Anybody who has been to a physical appointment knows the questions they ask, but it’s especially nerve wracking when your body is at risk for something. The nurse asks questions, stating never, rarely, sometimes, or always after each. Skylar, played by Talia Ryder, starts to hesitate as the questions get more and more personal. And then she finally breaks down. It’s overwhelming and scary and she’s finally vulnerable for the first time in this entire movie.

While Unpregnant and Saint Frances provide more witty and funny tales about abortion and unwanted pregnancies, Never Rarely Sometimes Always gives a dark and gritty tale of what having no help in those situations can look like, ultimately putting yourself in the most dangerous situations possible to make the right choice for yourself.

1: Swallow, directed and written by Carlo Mirabella-Davis.

I don’t want to say much of this film because it’s something you truly have to experience. Hunter, a woman who finds herself pregnant with her rich husband’s child, finds herself having what can only be called abnormal food cravings. Except, what she eats isn’t necessarily food—she suffers from an extreme form of pica, causing her to eat everything from marbles to staples to little figurines. She proudly displays her collection on her desk, cleaning them off meticulously once she passes them. It’s a horror film but the horror isn’t necessarily in what she eats, it’s how she’s treated.

In fact, her eating habits are the one thing she has control over in her life until even that’s taken away from her. Her husband’s family doesn’t care about her—only the fetus she’s carrying. It’s a really good representation of an abusive husband that you don’t often see, because none of the abuse is physical, rather, emotional.

I can’t say anymore because then I’d be spoiling—all I have to say is go watch it. Please. It’s so amazing.

#films #top ten #2020 #swallow #never rarely sometimes always #eliza hittman #unpregnant #saint frances #shirley #elisabeth moss #film review #review

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arcticdementor · 3 years

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A reader writes:

I’m writing to you today because I have some information to share with you (and your readers) who may still be skeptical that this LGBTQIA+ gender-identity craze is coming for their kids. Some recent interactions online have made me more aware than ever that the movement is spreading in wild and unpredictable ways, and also made me reflect on how, in my own life, even someone like me could have fallen victim to it.

I want to start off by saying that recently, (and ironically, in an attempt to try not to be sucked into the internet as purely a source for doom and gloom: you will see how this backfires on me) I decided to rejoin a fan community surrounding one of my favorite franchises on Twitter. I won’t go into too much detail about which community and the exact specifics, but just know that it’s a popular franchise that’s appropriate for older kids, teens and adults (nothing 18+, nothing for really little ones). As a teen myself I was fairly active in a similar branch of this community on another social media platform (Facebook), and enjoyed it immensely before the platform eventually went more or less defunct as a hot-spot for fan content. Most of the content was fan-created work (like fan-art or fan-fiction) with a little interaction and lots of “DID YOU SEE THE LATEST” kinds of posts.

…

Anyway, to keep it to a minimum, that was then. If you’ve been on the internet any time in the last five years you know that spaces where people just talk about an interest and don’t mix it with politics and activism are becoming few and far between. Even though I knew this, and knew that I wasn’t going to have the same experience in a different place, something sparked an interest in me to go try to reconnect with my internet roots in a different setting. So, I followed some hashtags, quickly found some new followers and settled back to enjoy at least marginally some discussions online that didn’t have to do with Covid and All The Ways We Are All Going To Die.

Then came the teenagers.

Much like when I was a kid, this franchise attracts a lot of younger people. So it was hardly surprising to me to find that many of my new followers were in the 14-18 age range and that people like myself (mid-older 20s) were a sort of senior majority. That was fine- Twitter’s rules after all are 13+, so it’s not unreasonable to assume if you’re part of a popular group that you’ll interact on occasion with minors. That wasn’t the part I found strange. The part I found strange was that all of them, and I repeat, all of them were fans of two things- the franchise, and gender identities.

You can actually almost pinpoint the age range of the 18 and under crowd by how many of them have the following: 1. Pronouns in bio and in username. 2. Gender identity or lack thereof displayed in bio or username. 3. LGBTQ+ sexual orientation displayed in bio or username. etc. etc. etc. I’m not going to dive into it too much, because some might be saying “isn’t that just normal nowadays? Even politicians do that?” Well, you’re not wrong if that’s what you’re thinking. And that’s not the part that disturbs me.

What disturbed me was that, a few weeks after I joined the group, I started noticing an unsettling pattern among many of these teenage users (and many over-teen users, but I’m trying to make a point about the young ones specifically). For a few days, after an interesting bit of news or a trailer or some other thing that unites franchises, the posts in my feed would be primarily things like what I remembered from past experiences: posts about the franchises, theories, speculations, fanart, etc. But, every time things would settle back down into a quiet, normal week, the feeds in my post became almost entirely about one thing: Gender and LGBTQ talking points. I’m going to diverge for one second and say that many people in this group aren’t using a personal, front-facing account for their interactions in this fan-group. They’re mostly using alt-accounts with no real names and faces attached (myself included). And yet, every time the discussion in the feeds died down to where there was just no new stuff about the franchise to talk about, all the conversation slowly but surely shifted back to sexual orientation and gender. From fan-ships of perfect LGB couples to ‘hey I drew this person but as a trans-female!’ to even forgoing pretending to talk about their interests and just discussing their own gender and sex presentation with their other online friends, it became quickly very clear to me that A. I no longer really belonged here and B. Every single one of these kids was obsessed. Every. Single. One.

…

I’m going to digress and talk about myself for a minute to explain just why these examples, particularly that last one, burn a hole in my soul. From the minute I was old enough to remember, I’ve never been one of those typically presenting females. When my sisters and I played dress-up as kids, they played princesses and I played a prince or a witch or whatever was more interesting. In addition to the dolls and barbies I had being one of three girls, I also had an assortment of boy-oriented toys, including action figures, a remote control car and this really cool nerf bow-and-arrow set that I still secretly wish had survived my playing with it because man, my kids are gonna miss out someday. My hair was short because I hated wearing it up and the solution was a bob, and when we spent time with relatives I could be found as far away from my female cousins as possible, hanging out with my male cousins and talking about Legos and Lord of The Rings. I spent 90% of my time reading books and ignoring reality, and didn’t put much effort into my appearance until probably age 13 or later.

And I wished I was a boy.

It wasn’t an all-consuming thought, but I thought it. I wished, many times, when my parents would fuss at me to please stop attempting to climb trees in your Sunday clothes and when my sisters never talked about anything but dolls and tea-parties around their friends that I could be one of the boys. I had always liked the boys and their world better, and I fit into better, and yet there was that little problem (that I was still a girl) that kept me from being accepted into the boy group. The reality was, I was already probably very intelligent for my age (too-well read children can relate) and I took that big-headedness a little too far at times. I was also a very emotional person (still am) and just passionately felt that being a girl and being expected to do girl things was hideous and unfair.

The saving grace? My mom was the same. She’s never been a typical female either, and though as adults we have some clear differences (ironically, I have more stereotypical female interests/talents than her- like a hidden passion for interior decorating and a love of baking and so on) she was there for me, to be able to tell me that no- I didn’t really want to be a boy, I was just a girl who liked sword fights and grass-stains more than ballgowns and tea parties, and that was okay!!! She was proof that there were other girls like me, and that I would find more of them eventually (I did) and, even though we never said so in so many words, that stereotypes and how we fit into them has nothing to do with our innate female and male selves. And so, reassured that I could be female and still be however I wanted, I eventually grew out of those thoughts, and as I matured, found that there were ‘female things’ I connected with that my past self was too young to appreciate.

But, think about all this in a modern context. I’m a happy adult female now, and I was never truly gender-questioning. I just thought, for a while, that boys had more fun than I did, so I wanted to be one. But that, in it of itself, is a thought that’s deep enough for modern gender activists to insist I be transitioned immediately and put on life-altering hormones, never given a chance to grow up or grow out of questioning, and affirmed in my presentation instantly! If I, like that young girl online, had been handed a ‘gender-affirming’ flag and an identity that ‘made sense’ out of why I was different from my peers, I might have jumped on it, especially without the presence of a wise older person to tell me I wasn’t anything different than what she’d been as a child. This is the problem, this is why this kind of thing is so dangerous and toxic and wrong.

#the american conservative #letter from a reader #online fan communities

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guccibanban · 3 years

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I've been wanting to write about my dog for so long and I guess since I cannot sleep, Now's the time. Ever since I was little, I've always loved dogs. I even wanted to be a vet ao I can be close to animals and treat them. Sadly, we didn't have much to pay for the tution and not all schools is offering that course and I didn't want to be far away from home.

For so long I wanted a dog but my family isnt fond of them. They're scared of dogs so as long as I'm living with my family, I need to respect their wishes so I never tried to get one yet I yearn for one. Then one day, my cousin's BF got her a dog. Luckily we live in the same compound so that dog became partly mine by that I meant I treated her dog like it was my nephew. I bought his dog clothes and I was almost always at their house so I can visit her dog. Unfortunately after 2 years of adventures, her dog met a car accident. I remember it so well since I heard about it while I was mid shift in my work and I bawled my eyes out while working and wanting to go home. Anyways, fast forward.. I still dremed of having a dog but same situation, I cant have one. Also I was single that time and for 5 years.I came to a conclusion that its fine if I ended up alone. Because as a kid my dream was to get married, have a great wedding and have my own family but as we get older closing to a certain age and like I said not having any relationship for a while, I kinda gave up the idea and instead I made a new dream. To work hard, buy my own house and get a dog. Then I'll live peacefully alone with all my dogs. I was set with that idea and I really thought that its far away in the future, like 5 to 10 years? Since I need to move out before owning a dog but almost 2 years ago a miracle happened. I met Gucci 🤎 and now she's the most important thing in my world.

How did I got her?

So few weeks or days before we got her my sister was talking about her friends having dogs and she was joking with one of her friends about it cause her friend's dog is pregnant and she said oh its so cute can I have one when she get the puppies out as a joke and she told me about it. But came a month after the puppies were born my sisters friend asked her if she wanted 1 puppy and said they can bring it over. So immidiately my sister called me asking if I wanted a dog and of course I said yes but i asked her is this a joke?! Also she has to tell our mom about it and so we had my mom go to my room so we can tell her and at that point she cant really do anything bec my sister's friend was ready to give the puppy. So then I called up my cousin to get ready cause finally Im getting a puppy and I know she wanted to come as well. So my sister, her family, my cousin and I drove up to the meeting point and there it was.. a brown 1 month old puppy in a carton box. It was love at first sight. The moment I laid my eyes on her, I already know how much love I have for her and thats How I met Gucci. It took us a few days probably 2 to 3 before we named her because we cant find a name so fitting. We didnt want to call her Choco or Toffee cause it doesnt feel right. BTW, she was dark brown with black streaks when she was a puppy. Also she is Half Shih tzu and half aspin too. We then decided on Gucci, first time I called her Gucci, I knew thats the name for her.

Meet Gucci and fall in love with her the same way I did. BTW, She's almost 2 now. Exactly 1 year and 7 months 🤎🐶 I'm excited to show more of her in the future and our 1 year and 7 mo adventure together

#Guccibanban #gucci #Dogs #Puppy #Dog #Love #Mybaby #Baby #shihtzu #aspin

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im-a-lonelyheart · 4 years

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Fitzsimmons Family Headcanons in case canon fails me

And before they destroy them. Buckle up.

(I wrote this in less than an hour and english is not my first language, sooo sorry for any mistakes)

Edit: I re-posted it because it wasn’t showing up in the tags. sorry.

Enjoy! (Gift credit: X)

They finally decide to retire to their cottage.

Daisy and May lived with them for a while but at different times. Daisy around the time their first kid was born and May when the youngest was a kid already.

May and Daisy totally live together in the USA.

Fitzsimmons started a biomedical company, they make prostetics and medical supplies. They fund small researchers and become relatively known in the medical field (under aliases of course). They run their company from their home as much as they can.

Deke got bored of his company, so he eventually fused it with FS’s, he has enough money to travel around the world and be whatever he wants. Once was a TV chef, and he got bored and became a travel blogger, then launched a clothing line so it goes…

Tried to convince the team to turn their story into a broadway musical. They all said no. He brings it up everytime they are all together (you never know)

Fitzsimmons have three kids, they were all planned ;) of course

Daisy teases Fitz about how the three of them look like Jemma. “You are adopted”. the son is the only one who kinda looks like him. Fitz doesn’ t mind.

After the kids go their own ways they leave together again.

Have their own quinjet in case of emergencies, they say. Let’s be honest after years of flying with SHIELD, commercial flights lost their charm.

Look retired Fitzsimmons would be that kind of couple who travels the world together (properly this time), they say the quinjet is to visit their friends and Family around the world but would randomly send pictures of them in front of a famous landmark.

Mackenzie Skye Fitzsimmons (Daisy calls her Kye) (Born around 2021) (Quarantine baby) or (Timetravel baby)

They never asked Deke about their daughter’s name in the original timeline, but once they told him, judging by his reaction they knew it was this. (but in the lighthouse timeline her nickname was Kenzie)

Fitz was really adamant on this name, Jemma thought it was cute and a great way to honor their best friends, but years later he told the kid:

“you were named after two of the bravest persons I’ve ever met”.

Jemma just stared into the space as it dawned on her that her husband was really an idiot.

He winked at her and she forgave him. Eventually.

When she was a toddler Fitzsimmons moved back to the city and left their cottage, they wanted their daughter to have the best education and also didn’t want to wake her up early because the closest school was still an hour away.

Around that time Daisy found Bobbi, they met up, and Bobbi introduced her to her baby son Owen.

“oh my god. I need to call Fitzsimmons”

“what”

“shhhh. wait, it’s connecting... Hey guys! Look who is here! Bobbi and her baby Owen Shaw”

Fitz spits his tea all over his phone. Bobbi doesn’t know what’s going on, and they eventually explain it to her, well, after Daisy stops laughing and Fitz stops coughing.

Bobbi and Hunter had changed names and moved to England. After learning that Fitzsimmons live nearby, they make plans to see each other as much as they can. Look this is my headcanon AU so Fitzsimmons offer them positions in their company, Bobbi in the lab and Hunter in a made up security position that doesn’t fit his nametag.

Some weekends Fitz and Hunter take the babies to the park together, while Jemma and Bobbi work or hang out together. One day kye and Owen were playing and Owen proudly declared he was going to be an astronaut. Fitz was like “you and your son are the bane of my existence”.

The kids become best friends. Duh

BUT this is Bobbi and Hunter we are talking about, they’re nomads so they eventually move out around Europe and America, when the kid started high school they agreed to stay in one place.

Anyways,

Amazing kid, took a while for her parents to figure out the whole parenting thing but she was so great, as long as things went her way.

Fitz can’t say no to her. A dog? We’ll manage. Ice cream for breakfast? c’mon you know how convincing she can be.

She is a really calm kid, well behaved. Responsible older sister, mom friend, but messy af. “look mom, I have a system and I know where everything is”.

Nicest kid you’ll ever meet, but if you mess with her siblings be careful, you never know if you will find trash in your backpack.

She is an MD. Eventually, her parents moved back to the countryside but she stayed in the city with her sister to finish her education.

Makes friends everywhere she goes.

She and Owen started dating in their teens but were on and off several times, they even briefly dated other people because one of them would get scared of things becoming too serious (even more when they learned that Uncle Deke was genetically their son).

In their late twenties they decided to get married as a compromise to stay together and work things out, after all, some things are inevitable.

They had two kids: Daniel Shaw (Deke, but They wanted him to be his own person so they changed the name), Gabrielle Shaw (Born as Oliver Shaw)

Owen worked for a while for SWORD. Eventually decide to move to Germany to work as researchers.

Margaret Abigail Fitzsimmons (Maggie) (Born 2025)

The odd one. Grew up to be a successful artist. Really independent as a child, could play hours by herself or caually chill around her parents or her brother’s crib.

Despite being the only one in her family who isn’t into science, she loves doing experiments all the time, in the name of aesthetic. One time turned the dog blue. There’s a fire extinguisher in the living room just because of her. Banned from her parents’ lab “Pretty colors can go boom”. Aparently.

After being constantly told she is diferent from the rest of her family, she feels happy when someone tells her she looks like her mom. She scoffs but she doesn’t really mind.

Acts though but is a softie, vegan, activist, animal lover. Loves to tease everyone, prankster, makes fun of her mom but it’s the first person she thinks of when something troubles her. Late night calls are not unheard of.

Can’t commit to a single hobby. Photography, cooking, volunteer work... name something, and she has probably already tried it.

Really close to Deke, sometimes travels with him. They are kindred spirits. Feel like only them understand the need to explore and try new things.

She grew up to resent shield. Look she loves what her parents and their friends did, but hates how it affected them. Forgive and forget? in this economy??

Lives in Paris by herself but somehow always manages to get everyone to come to her art exhibits. You won’t be able to stop her once she sets her mind to something. Stubborn as her dad.

Doesn’t want kids, maybe one day if she feels ready she will adopt but she is happy as an aunt.

Matthew Phillip Fitzsimmons (Matthew) (Born 2030)

Ray of sunshine, Momma’s boy. He loves it when his parents take him to their lab. Ever since he could walk he is always following his sisters around, if they are up to something he is the first one to know. They love to tease him, but he has enough blackmail material to get them to shut up. He would never use it tho.

Computer genius. He has his own video game company. Launched his first video game at 16. Fitz is mildly offended he sees the Framework code as “old stuff”.

He is a sweetheart, adores his parents and calls them every single day. He met his wife in college and has been happy ever since. It was fast and passionate, they got married within a year and a few years later they had a baby.

Truly an example of living fast.

Melissa Fitzsimmons (his daughter) a sweetheart, may is her godmother. (The babies’ baby’s baby, i cry). The cousins are thick as thieves.

May loves the kid, “age is making you softer”, Daisy tells her and laughs, May’s glare while holding a baby is too much for her.

Emma Johnson (born 2029) (the honorary fourth kid)

Daisy’s daughter. Jemma cried when she told her the baby’s name. She wanted May and Jemma in the delivering room with her.

I can see Daisy being a badass single mother but I also see her finding love, I haven’t made up my mind but I think she will be loved either way.

Only child, so loves to hang out with the FS kids.

She and Matthew are best friends since they were little, even having video calls when they couldn’t see each other in person.

Fitz and Daisy had a bet on whether they would get together, but it was called off when it became apparent Emma wasn’t interested in men altogether. She was the first woman in his wedding.

The “Quake” legacy was too much for her so she decided to focus in something different. Currently works as an architect and on her spare time works as a freelance illustrator.

All I can imagine is a scene where the are all together in a field (probably the same one where they buried Coulson and Loop!Fitz) May, Fitzsimmons and Daisy. They try to meet up there at least once a year to chat and reminisce about old times, sometimes with Deke, Mack and Elena (and their twin boys) or just them.

Their kids are playing while their parents watch, but May’s watching them, with their backs to her they almost look like the kids she met in the bus all those years ago. Coulson would’ve been so proud, this is the future we were fighting for all along, she thinks.

“You did good”.

Daisy turns around with a soft smile on her face and says “yes, we did.”

The end

#Fitzsimmons #fstag #fsfic #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#Jemma simmons #Leo fitz #Daisy Johnson #Melinda May #SHIELD headcanons #I have hope that i will like their ending #this is how i see them right now #I will probably adapt them to fit whatever happens in the finale

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curewhimsy · 3 years

Text

Symphony Saga Resonate chapter 1

I was inspired!

Notes: This fanfic is like, a middle/high school-centric fic so my OCs are all middle/high school aged here (youngest= 12, oldest= 18)

Also everyone is gonna age by 6 years eventually

AO3 link

——————

Can a dream change the world?

Can a song awaken the soul?

Does our universe truly have limits?

Why am I asking all of these questions?

We all each have a story.

We all matter.

If we all join together, how big of a miracle can we create?

The story of Resonate unfolds...

———

Queen Rainbow’s Point of View

In a world where color was scarce... wonder was draining from people’s souls, and warmth was fading from their hearts. The warmth in their smiles were waning... And soon enough, they weren’t able to truly smile any longer.

This world... was called Monochrome.

Being the furthest planet in its solar system from the sun, Monochrome was already quite a lonely place. But everything froze over when Obsidian stepped to the throne.

Monochrome was a painfully boring place, filled with progressively more boring people. It got to the point where the most boring, bitter person of all would automatically be crowned as royalty.

Her name was Obsidian, and she became the Queen of Misery. She did not believe in fun, happiness, or love. Her heart was made of coal. When she breathed out, thick black smoke would fill the air, despite her never being a smoker.

Queen Obsidian’s very existence would always pollute the air with negativity and gloom that would make people lose hope. She was so boring, that her presence would transform sugary donuts into regular old bagels with nothing on them. She was so boring, that her royal fanfare was played on a single off-key kazoo. She was so utterly dull, that she even sent Planet Monochrome into a thousand-year-long ice age after telling one terrible joke.

But worse than all that combined, the Queen of Misery was a selfish, spiteful, and joyless person.

Nobody exactly knew why, but Queen Obsidian hated music... Possibly because of how positive and fun it could potentially be, not to mention the sheer raw emotion and vibes it could could convey.

One day, Queen Obsidian heard a song. It was awful. She hated it so much, that she ordered it to be sent to the Nowhere Of Permanent Erasure Void, or “NOPE Void” for short, where it would be deleted from our reality.

Queen Obsidian wanted to erase all the universe’s music from existence this way, and for people to never make or listen to it again. Ever.

Knowing that Monochrome barely had any worthwhile tunes to get rid of, Obsidian began to target the music on other worlds.

And what better place to start than the magical, colorful planet known as Whimsica?

Whimsica, a charming, fittingly whimsical world filled with magic... It may ideally be peaceful, yet we’ve been attacked by Monochrome for years just for being so idyllic. Apparently, our bright, rainbow colors that can be seen from space are an eyesore for them.

This is also where I come in.

My name is Queen Rainbow... and I’m the Queen of Whimsica. I’m only 16 years old, which is... actually pretty old for a monarch of Whimsica, believe it or not!

Whimsica’s monarchs are usually children nowadays! That’s because we have a childish kind of “whimsy” in our hearts and an arcane sort of innocence to see the world through rainbow-tinted lenses.

A long time in the past, Whimsica had a very strict older queen who forbid the royals, even the ones in the future, from ever befriending commoners.

That queen used a spell, so if a royal was caught being friends with a commoner, they would fall into a long slumber. The length of how long they would sleep corresponded to how strong the royal‘s bond was to the commoner.

Recently, the spell was broken, however! So now I can befriend and hang out with all the common folk I want. To be honest, being that kind of queen wasn’t so great, it was a little lonely, and I always hated feeling so unapproachable... and responsible!

Well, to tell the truth, the eldest of the three princess sisters actually does most of the work. 18-year-old Celestine is the responsible and proper eldest sister. Lunette, age 16, is the middle sister, and a bit mischievous. The youngest sister is 14-year-old Stelle, and she... well... is a bit of a problem child.

Anyway. I had proposed a new course of action against what Monochrome is trying to do. The princess sisters and I, along with Celestine’s best friend Nikamowin, and even the two royal anthromorph cats, Sparkle and Twinkle, have been using our magical powers the best we could to fight against Monochrome’s Queen and royal force, and the monsters they use against us.

But I still feel we need more help. We need the help of magical musicians.

I’ve been beginning to practice making music so I could harness its positive energy and make my songs into magic that can defeat Monochrome’s negativity. Nikamowin is also a skilled singer and can use songs to help us, but I still feel we need to power of more music.

So I assigned a job to Sparkle and Twinkle. Their job now is to look for passionate musicians with pure hearts, who are interested in joining our force to help save music for the entire universe...

———

Haku Yowane’s Point of View

Location: Earth

I zipped up my backpack to the faint scent of dust around the house, tied my shoes, wiped my long bangs from my eyes, and got ready to step out the door to go to school. Another gray day.

Even though I didn’t live with her, my world felt so empty now. My heart felt so hollow.

It was the little things.

Rain pattering on the roof... once a cozy and quaint sound... now just a gloomy and sad reminder.

An old notebook... once a source of joy and closeness... now just cold and distant.

A stuffed cat... warm and beloved... now even more well-loved, and irreplaceable.

All these things I saw right before I left my house to go to school reminded me of her.

My grandmother.

She passed away three weeks ago.

Right before I began opening my door, I looked back, and saw Snowbell, the plush cat Grandma gifted me long ago, eyeing me gently from my table.

I decided I couldn’t go to school without Snowbell. I couldn’t leave her alone.

I picked up the well-loved plush and hugged her gently and sadly, and made my way out the door with her.

Snowbell was special to me.

At the age of five, I was quite meek and lonely, with a reddish nose and wobbly knees. I would catch colds often, and constantly be sniffling, which was how I earned the nickname “Sniffles”.

I was a bit odd. I had strange habits such as pretending I were a cat, even lapping milk out of a bowl at snack time. I liked to draw pictures and play make-believe at recess. I didn’t like strangers or crowds.

In school, I was usually scared and overwhelmed. Once during indoor play time, I sat in my own little corner away from everyone and drew on the walls. When my teacher found the drawings I had drawn on the walls, I got scolded. I spent the rest of the day crying and sniffling, not understanding why I was yelled at.

That was when my grandmother decided my imagination was just too big for such a little girl, so she bought me a friend, a stuffed white kitten, to talk to.

My grandma told me that Snowbell was a special friend, and she was always there to listen. So when I was sad, I would hug and talk to Snowbell and felt I wasn’t alone.

Snowbell was there for me through the good days, and the many bad days... She was there when I graduated kindergarten. She was also there shortly after, when I was six years old, when my parents divorced...

Before my parents divorced, my brother Dell and I were very close. He was technically my half-brother. My father, who I was never close with, already divorced a former wife before marrying my mother. Dell was the son of my father and his former wife. His last name was Honne, his father’s last name. My last name is Yowane, my mother’s last name.

Dell and I would always play and sing together. Even though I was clumsy and fail at his games sometimes, he was very patient and would comfort me when I cried. Sometimes my dad would randomly yell at or scold me. When that happened, Dell would always stand up to my dad and protect me. Even when my parents were fighting and yelling so loudly that I got scared, Dell and I would hide together and he would comfort me. He was truly an amazing brother.

However, when my mother and father divorced, my father insisted on taking us with him. My mother refused to let him take us. There was a huge custody battle over us, and eventually, a heartbreaking compromise was made.

Dell was going to go with my father. I was going to stay with my mother.

I just wanted us to stay together. But in the end, we couldn’t.

One morning after sleeping in, I went downstairs to see around half the furniture in the house gone and my father outside in the moving van. My dad was about to leave. He left me without saying goodbye.

But Dell... He waited until I woke up so he could say goodbye before leaving. I cried with such intensity that he turned around. His face right then shocked me. He was seven years old... but had such a grown-up expression on his face... I had never seen such an look on his face before. So much pain... yet so accepting of his fate.

He hugged me one last time without any words, until I stopped crying. Once my tears stopped, he pat my head, and made his way out the door.

I never saw my brother, my best friend, ever again.

Two years passed. I turned eight years old. My mother, now single, talking to her sister, had an idea.

My mother’s sister had a daughter, who would be my cousin. My mom noticed that without Dell, I was very lonely lately. So she proposed to my cousin and I to meet.

My cousin’s name was Miku Hatsune. She was six years old at the time. The same age I was when my parents divorced. The first thing I noticed about Miku was how cheerful she was, and how accepting she was towards me. I quickly became friends with her, and even though she came over only around once a month and I only got to see her those times, we were really close friends.

The day we first met, we played in the backyard. I was still very shy and awkward at the time.

A butterfly landed on a flower nearby, and Miku urged me to try and touch it. I did, and the butterfly flew away.

I instantly burst into tears.

“Why?” I said, through my tears. “Why does everyone leave me? Like Dell? And my dad? Why...?”

“Don’t cry, Haku...” Miku pat my head to try to cheer me up. It reminded me of when Dell pat my head to say goodbye... it kind of calmed me down.

To cheer me up even more, Miku began singing me a song. She taught it to me, and I began to sing it with her.

We began to sing together, and soon enough, we were surrounded by butterflies. We began smiling and laughing. It was a great memory.

“Miku?” I looked at her fondly. “Promise me you won’t ever leave me, okay?”

“Okay!” Miku answered, smiling.

But one day, around three years later...

My mother called her sister as usual... and every single trace of her, her husband, Miku, and even Miku’s little sister Mizu, had vanished without a trace.

When I heard this, I was devastated. I began to wait a little while... but soon it became apparent that Miku and her family were gone... maybe in a freak accident or disappearance... and weren’t ever coming back.

I remember sitting under a tree, and just crying.

After that, I really only had my grandmother. My mom was always kind of distant and neglected me emotionally.

My grandmother, however, was warm and understanding. She was also very fun and always made me smile. She was the most magical person I ever knew, because she always told me amazing stories. Sometimes I wondered how she even thought of them. I always told her perhaps she should become a writer and make them into books.

I was inspired to become a writer myself because of her. I used many of her stories as inspiration, because I thought she needed a lot of recognition. She also always wanted to be a musician, and so did I, but I was always much too shy. My grandmother couldn’t pursue music because of her health condition and age, sadly.

Now that she’s passed, I think I will try to fulfill my grandmother’s dreams in homage to her.

Thinking of these memories may have left me sad... but I’ll at least always have the precious memories of these people in my heart, even though I may never see them again. In memory of them, may I live my every day to my fullest.

#symphony saga #symphony Saga resonate #symphony Saga: resonate #my writing #utau #vocaloid #whimsica #whimsica saga #oc #ocs #fic #life of pastell #writing

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aroarolibrary · 3 years

Text

Oh man so, first off: congrats to angel/dean shippers on getting your canon thing in spanish but secondly:

Man this whole thing that’s been happening with this show over the last few weeks has 100% reminded me that this show and Sherlock were the two fandoms that made be super romance repulsed because of all the internalized self-hate and trauma they caused me. Like. I was romance repulsed before but those fandoms?? Jacked it up to 100% for years in which I couldn’t interact with any romantic stories or fandoms at all.

Story time!!!

Tw for: self harm, self hatred, hypersexuality, mental health issues, child neglect.

So imagine you are me: a young person who has just graduated high school and, very suddently, went from being “single mother of your little sister” who you had essentially raised on your own for the last four years when she was 5 to 9 yo to “every day college kid that sees their sibling that they raised for the last four years maybe once a month.

Also imagine that, out of all of your high school friends, none of them are attending the same university as you and so. Well.

You’re feeling pretty lonely and depressed.

Now also imagine: you didn’t really have a chance to consume media I HS because: parent. In fact 90% of what you watched was kids cartoons for your sibling +bonus Inuyasha at 3am as a...Uh....treat.....(that’s the kind way of saying ‘setting an alarm at 3am to check to make sure the parents actually got home from wherever TF they vanished to nearly every night).

But hey! You are free now and can watch/read what you want between classes! Only, well, where to start? You go to a book store and find a Sherlock Holmes book and think “okay ya I’ve always wanted to read these!” And proceed to consume them in one week flat.

They are amazing. The relationship between Sherlock and John reminds you of your and one of your best friends/honorary cousins that you haven’t seen in a while and it brings you comfort to read, but now you are out of stories so, you do what any person this day in ages does: you find fanfiction. Now, Sherlock wasn’t a thing at this point and so nearly all the fanfics were based on the books and, of those, 80-85% you gen. No romance at all. Just relaxing stories about friends and solving mysteries.

Then Sherlock happens and, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely a fan when the show started, but suddenly fanfiction was no longer mostly gen, it was shifting, becoming more and more shipping and romance related and it became harder and harder to find non-romantic stories.

Then a person I was living with suggested supernatural. “It’s a story about brothers and it focuses on them.” They said “very little romance. You would probably like it.”

And so I watched it and, they were right, I did. And ya, that one wasn’t exactly like the early Sherlock Holmes fandom, it had a lot of shipping from the get go, but I could also really easily find gen fics that focused on siblings and familial relationships and ignore the rest since there was a pretty even 50/50 split with a slight favor on the gen side.

(Keep in mind there is a LOT of other irl trauma going on in the BG of this story which I know I’ve talked about before. A lot of which is also feeding into the romance repulsion and my avoidance of romance in fandom spaces along with my “blossoming” hypersexuality)

Anyway, the familial relationship in spn was a comfort. At the point I moved from Sherlock to SPN I was in my second year on university and was doing a bit better mentally (in the “sadness” front at least) but I was still missing seeing my sister a lot and so SPN was a comfort in that sense. It was something to relax with that didn’t have romance or anything of the sort that, at that point, was only driving me further and further into hypersexuality (I was dating my first ‘official’ partner at that point and, while I can recognize it now looking back, romance in shows and movies made me feel inadequate as a partner. Like I was failing and not doing enough. Was not romantic enough. Was not showing affection enough. But physically I also couldn’t bring myself to do those things either. What I could do was sex. And, well, when that’s all you have to offer...)

ANYWAY: spn was the one show I knew of on TV that was low to no romance and that the fandom was also decently low on romance, instead focusing mostly on family and the brothers.

Cut forward a few years, I’m back into a depression, I’ve failed at a relationship again because all I can offer is sex and that’s really not enough for people that are looking for actual romance and:

And supernatural introduces an angel character to the show. It’s interesting but I’m pretty depressed and not really all that interested in the show anyway at this point-

But then the fandom happens and it’s like a flood. The romance pours in from all corners along with the absolute hate for anyone that doesn’t see anything romantic happening. It’s like watching a wild fire go through a fandom, what was once a fandom that mostly was just about siblings all of a sudden became all about this angel character and Dean. So much so that it over shadowed everything and any attempt to just enjoy the show as a gen thing or as a family-centric show became impossible.

It was also around this point that a lot of...idk what to call it really because it wasn’t exactly hate, it was like a “this is the only way to read/be in this fandom and if you aren’t we are going to harass you non-stop until you see things our way”. If you couldn’t see the romance between these two characters it was because you were homophobic. If you preferred gen it was because you were homophobic. If you focused on just the brothers and their relationship it was because you were homophobic. If you couldn’t see that Dean was better off in a romantic relationship then with his brother who he had an ‘unhealthy’ relationship with then you were homophobic.

(Keep in mind at this point I was out as bisexual and had attempted to date a woman at this point. I say attempted because, well, again: aromantic even if I didn’t know it then)

It was intense and, from the POV of an aromantic person struggling with being unable to understand even basic romance: it was traumatizing.

I tried to see it, to understand what these shippers were seeing that I couldn’t. Yes, I could see how Sam and Dean’s relationship could be viewed as unhealthy, but as someone who had lived a similar life to theirs as a kid, and to suddenly be bombarded with this idea that the “healthy” way to cope with that is a “romantic relationship” it was a lot. And by a lot I mean a death spiral.

There was...a lot of one night stands and sex and half-attempted relationships after that, in that desperate attempt to understand. There was also panic, nausea, fear that my own relationship with my sister was unhealthy. Was causing both of us harm. That the only way I could keep from hurting her further was to find a “healthy” romantic relationship instead because siblings aren’t meant to be close, not even those where one raised the other alone for years on end.

I had no context outside of fandom about what a healthy sibling relationship looked like and, hell, most TV shows at the time painted sibling relationships as antagonist 90% of the time and with them only interacting when necessary. My parents both had siblings but my dad talked to his maybe once a month and my mom faught with Hers a lot. I had never faught with my sister. We got along perfectly, mostly because from the ages on 13 - 18 I lived for her alone and so I was used to putting her first no matter what.

But this fandom, that had been a comfort for me for a while, suddenly said that was wrong. That instead romance was the way to go and I...

Well. I am conscious of myself enough now to know that I was purposely hurting myself. A lot. Punishing myself over and over and over again, not just because I couldn’t figure out how to “feel” romance like I was supposed to do but also because I was a terrible sibling. Because I had failed my sister some how and had ended up in an “unhealthy codependent” relationship with her since, if Sam and Dean’s relationship was like that according to fans, then obviously so was ours.

(God and don’t get me started on the spiral that the new Inuyasha Sequel put me into a few months ago. I’m STILL not out of that spiral yet. These last few months have not been good for the “romance isn’t important/is unnecessary” front)

I would like to say that I soon realized how terrible the fandom was for my mental health and that it was causing me to harm myself but that isn’t how this story ends. How it ends is that I Eventually I ended up not being able to watch SPN any more. Every episode was just another dagger in my side. Another failure to press my face into. Another series of interactions where I couldn’t see. Couldn’t understand. Another episode that would let to another desperate one night stand/attempt at understanding how this was better. Healthier. How this was how things were supposed to be. Another night of not talking to my family or friend and another few days of not talking to my sister because talking to her too much was wrong.

So ya. This story doesn’t end nicely. It just slowly fades to black. To a point where I hate myself so much that I can’t bring myself to interact with the fandom or internet at all. Where everything just kind of...goes away and vanished but where the trauma still exists. Where stories that start out about family and, suddenly, introduce love interests leave me nauseous and choked. Where my romance repulsion gets so strong that I can’t sleep because I just keep remembering my failures. The fact that it’s not healthy to focus or care about your family. That there must be romance. There must There must there must. Because with out it all other relationships are bad/wrong/unhealthy and you are bad/wrong/unhealthy for only having those.

Just the endless mantra. All night long.

Bad.

Wrong.

Unhealthy.

Bad.

Wrong.

Unhealthy.

Bad

Wrong.

Unhealthy.

Over and over and over again.

#can you tell what’s been on my mind all night?#ah memories #at least I’m at a point where I can recognize this as self-harm behavior to ‘fix’ myself #and not a healthy ‘but maybe if I have more sex I’ll fall in love’ situation i had going on before

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