#//we were doing great; none of us were getting sick but my grandma despite working a high risk job just refused to be careful

[revvywevvy]

Hey guys, I'm probably not gonna be able to draw for a while. Grannyma tested positive for covid for the second time and this time she actually got most of us sick. Me, my ma and the youngest all got it 💀

Sooo I gotta quarantine now.

[thefanbasewhore]

The Owner of His Heart. ||A.R

AN: DO NOT CLICK KEEP READING IF YOU DIDNT NOT WATCH THE MOVE.. SPOILERS AHEAD… Also excuse my writing it’s been months since I’ve written anything !

Summary: before spoilers… Reader and Arvin had gone out a couple times but never labeled their relationship but one day when Arvin needs someone, she’s there.

Warning: Just the whole situation with the preacher, death, angst, and maybe a few curses?

The news was unsettling, the kind that sat deep inside the pit of one’s stomach, squeezing and aching, it made Y/N’s chest heavy with sadness. The news of Lenora’s death was surprising, a good God loving girl like her would never commit such a sin but there she lays with no one here., y/n is the only other person but her family standing above Lenora’s casket. Grandma Russel sobbing over the light-colored tomb, Uncle Earskell didn’t say much. As for Arvin she tried to get him to open up but, it didn’t seem like the right time to speak to him but her heart was hurting for his loss.

The preacher didn’t bother to come out and say any words, a suicide, a sinner.

Hesitantly she steps forward, hand comforting the lower back of Arvin. Arvin stiffens but he doesn’t bother to move away from it but only signs. “Arvin.” It’s a failed attempt to hold his hand because he’s almost half way down the dirt road before any other words could follow.

“just give him time sweetheart’” Grandma Russel manages to say, “He will come to you when he needs you.”

He always did. The couple were pretty much inseparable, best friends since childhood even walked together to school until graduation. Tears filled her eyes, Lenora had always been her friend too. They had only became more because the pressure to settle down and find a wife was weighed heavily on Arvin’s shoulders, he tried and tried but none of them clicked. One day it hit him, why wouldn’t he take his best friend out? There was no awkward introduction, no fakeness, she was the realist person he’s ever known.

At first it was a little awkward, so shocked that Arvin asked, she thought it was a joke and laughed in his face. He played it off cooly, but the look on his face said it all, not to mention how flush his cheeks were. “Wait you’re serious Arvin?”

“Mmm.” He confirms, “we already know everything about each other, it’s real between us. Just me and you, besides you ain’t the worst person I’ve ever seen.”

“wow thanks.” Her eyes roll make him laugh, he sucks in his bottom lip and smiles. “I’m just kidding darlin’, you’re beautiful.”

“Am I now?” A playful grin reaching her eyes as she leans over the counter of the diner. “So you’re confession your undying love for me officially?”

“yeah, I guess I am.” Tom shift uncomfortably in his seat as she tops of his coffee. It’s that sweet smile he’s so used too, but this time it send butterflies twirling in his stomach, he had always had a crush when he was younger but as the world grew colder and duller, he never acted on it. “I guess I’ll let you take me out, but we are not going anywhere the creepy abandoned house you always try to get me to go in.”

“why darlin’? Afraid of ghost?” Tom would never go there on a first date, a beautiful woman deserved something with flowers and big bright lights with dinner. Besides, he was pretty sure that his nan would actually kill him if he did anything but show Y/N the udder most respect.

That was only weeks ago, of course they shared some kisses here and there, he would pick her up for picnics, and dinner dates but being so caught up with each other talking about labels never came up.. but it was two people, best friends enjoying the company of one another.

Now she stood over Lenora’s grave watching Arvin’s figure disappear past the tree line, heart heavy with loss. Giving him time is what is best,  a few hours later she found herself knocking on the Russel’s door, a pie in hand. They considered her family of grieving with them but it didn’t feel right showing up with nothing.

“Grandma.” She presses a kiss to older woman’s cheek stepping through the doorway, “Did you eat anything? Want me to make some dinner?”

“all taking care of, maybe you could convince Arvin to eat though, he hasn’t left his room since.” Without a second thought she grabbed the plate from the table and made it through the hall way to Arvin’s room. There’s knock but there’s no answer, it quiet, something that is not familiar when Arvin’s involved.

Pressing against the door she opens it slowly, gripping the plate with two hands once the door is closed. “Arvin, you gotta eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” It muffled from how tightly the blanket was wrapped around him, hoarse from the throbbing inside of his throat. The whole room felt as if it was spinning, heavy eyes with irritated cheeks for the amount of times he’s wiped them.

“hey.” It’s a soft coo as she places the food on the stand next to the bed. “Look at me.”

The brown doe eyes glance up sadly, red with pressure, a ring of redness making it look like he hasn’t slept in days. “Do you need anything? I want to make this better Arvin.”

“I want you to leave.” He admits, pain twisting into his features. “I’m cursed, every single person I love has killed themselves, You’re it going to get caught up in my evil. First my daddy now my sister, who’s next?”

His breathing was increasing, growing with every word as his chest started to rise and fall. “I’m no good for anyone.”

She was stunned for a second, not ever seeing him like this. Of course, he’s always been a gentle kid with way more feelings then he would like to admit but watching the person you love totally break down into a panic attack was unsettling. Her fingers squeeze his gently, she’s here don’t worry.

“Arvin, that’s not true. You are not evil.” She frowns, without him even noticing managing to slip underneath the blanket wrapping her arms around his shoulders, face pressing against the swells of her chest. Fingers play with the soft brown strings. “What happen to them was an act -.”

“If you say God I might scream.” Arvin doesn’t fight the comfort, the softness of her breast, sweet smell of perfume relaxes him completely.

“I was going to say an act of themselves. You are not responsible for others choices, you can’t change what will happen.” Arvin doesn’t say anything else, he stews in the words.

“Now,” Soft pads trace his jaw, touching the highs of his cheeks to make his eyes meet hers. “I don’t want to ever hear any of that ‘I’m cursed’ bullshit again, it is not you. You are not evil and you haven’t lost everyone that loves you.”

Arvin doesn’t need anything else said, he knew exactly what she meant. All he could think was my best-friend, my lover, he pushes up from the bed slowly pressing his lips to hers. It was surprising but without a second thought her lips found his back, meeting in a slow, meaningful kiss. “Imma marry you.”

“oh that’s it? No asking me, nothing?” He rolls his eyes lightly, the first smile in days had graced his face, it was short lived but the sight made her heart flutter.

“ya see babe? I think you knew you were going to marry me the moment you laid eyes on me, always trying to make kissy face when we were younger.” He’s playful, something about growing up together makes it easy to be.

“well who’s making kissy face now?” Arvin’s lips meet hers once again, a subtle way to show his defeat.

A few days later despite how empty his chest felt he went back to work, mostly for the ambition of buying that shinny ring he promised. He was hoping in two weeks he’d have enough to ask properly, he wanted the prettiest one for his girl.

The sheriff stopped him a few day later, right when he was ready to go home, whispers of Lenora being pregnant out of wedlock but it didn’t make any sense. Why would she kill yourself over a baby? She would have all the support in the world, and would have made a great mother.

Then it hit him, who’s baby was it? The only time she’d ever spend was at her mother’s grave. Her mother’s grave and then the preacher… It all suddenly made sense. He felt sick to his stomach as he decided on walking home.. did he tell Nana? It would only break her heart more.

Walking past the cemetery he couldn’t help but notice the flashy, white car. He was about to give the preacher a piece of his mind before a girl no older then sixteen had climbed into the back of it, He couldn’t watch, he felt sick besides he had all of the evidence he needed.

The preacher had taken advantage of her, using God to trick her, and then not wanting to be shammed found a way to fix it. Lenora killed herself because she was afraid of the shame.

Tom slammed the door rather fast, walking right past the two most important women in his life in the kitchen and headed straight for his bedroom. The gun, he needed the gun that was in that stupid box under the bed.

“Arv? Is everything okay honey?” Of course she was here, why couldn’t you just stay away and make this less hard? It was so hard to make a decision when the voice of an angel would call him back to reality.

Killing the preacher meant breaking his promise to her, he wouldn’t marry her but run away, betray every word he said. Lenora deserved better, she deserved revenge.

On the topic of marriage it only made him face the fact that Lenora will never get married now because of that preacher and made his hands shake, tears of frustration run down his cheeks. His head was pounding from all the thinking, fighting with himself over wrong and right.

She enters without warning with a sigh, delicate fingers wrapping around him. “It’s okay, shhh.”

One more night with his love couldn’t hurt, one more night filled with comfort. After all the preacher wasn’t going anywhere. “What happened?”

“I’m fine darlin’,” Arvin wipes his tear filled cheeks, smiling sadly at her. Of course he wasn’t going to tell her, he had to convince her he was fine. “I jus’ miss her is all.”

“Me too, it’s not the same without her.” He nods in agreement wrapping his arms tightly around her back, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “I love you, and I don’t want you to forget it.”

“I love you to Arv.” Nothing else was said, she decided to stay that night with him. It was surprising.. sharing a bed with a man that is not yet her husband but after him begging it was hard to say no, especially in his time of grieving. Arvin wanted to hold her one last night before he slips away in the morning, and that is exactly what he did. All night held her, stole small kisses as she slept. Before the sun even reached the sky he was gone, but not before placing the small box on the night table.

It was nothing fancy, a small rock with a shiny silver band but it felt right since it rightfully belonged to her. The owner of his heart. With one last kiss to her forehead Arvin was gone but it would not be the last time they meet. Faith had other plans for the pair, their destiny had been written long ago.

[keanureevesisbae]

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Epilogue

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 4.1k

A/N: This will be Vanessa’s pov

Masterlist // Previous chapter //

9 years later

Name: Vanessa Tran-Cavill

Subject: English

Teacher: Mrs. Allen

Grade: 100/100 — Vanessa, you are such a talented writer. You raised the bar for every other essay I’m going to read in my entire career left as an English teacher. You have such a wonderful role model in your life. Please cherish your family for the rest of your life!

The one who taught me everything - an essay about Olivia Tran-Cavill, the greatest inspiration for me.

I was raised by the toughest woman alive. I know that a lot of kids say that about their mom, but allow me to explain why Olivia Tran-Cavill is the toughest woman I know in my life.

Her boyfriend left her when she told him she was pregnant with me, her own family (meaning her parents and her two brothers) practically disowned her, and on top of that she just started a job as a freshly minted veterinarian.

If I were in her shoes, I’d be terrified, struck by multiple breakdowns on a daily basis, but not my mom. She raised me all by herself, barely having a break or a moment of her own. I was her number one priority. She told me to be kind, to be honest and polite: personality traits that provide me with the best today and for all the days to come in the future.

There was only one thing that I desperately wanted and that was a family. I wanted a dad like the kids in my class. I wanted grandparents. I wanted aunts and uncles. I wanted to have little siblings, because I knew that I would be a great big sister.

Unfortunately that wasn’t in the stars for me and my mom told me that. It takes a brave woman to say to her young child: ‘Your real dad doesn’t want you. Your grandparents kicked me out the second they found out I was pregnant with you. Your uncles never spoke to me again.’

It hurt obviously. There were people walking around here that shared DNA with me, that were family, but they made it pretty clear that they didn’t want me nor my mother. To this day they still haven’t reached out and they honestly don’t know what they are missing out on. At least, that is what my mom always tells me.

But my mom always told me that family wasn’t all about sharing DNA, it was about finding people that you want in your life. You can choose who your family is.

Despite that wonderful piece of advice that I definitely took to heart, I continued to make her a drawing every single day. My mom and I inside our house and outside there is a man with a dog, waiting to be allowed into our life.

Waiting to become a dad.

My dad.

One day my mom was on call and had to go to the clinic at night. She took me with her and that’s the day we met Henry and his dog Kal. Little did we all know that at that exact moment, our lives drastically changed.

Henry was more of a dad in the first hour that I had met him, then my real dad was in my entire life. For the first time in life, I had a dad figure. A man who cared not only about me, but also about my mom.

Being with Henry never drastically changed my mom. She was still the bad ass mom I always had, but it did softened her up. It made her relaxed. Henry gave her what she deserved all those years of raising me by herself. Letting someone take care of her too. There is only so much a six year old could give back to a powerhouse like her mom, but there is so much more a man like Henry Cavill can give her.

He provided us with a family. A grandma, a granddad and four lovely uncles.

And for that I have to thank my mom. She allowed Henry into her life, thus into my life and gave us six amazing Cavill family members, who cared about us and loved us up to this day.

Now, I admire her every single day. The way she takes care of not only me, but also my three sisters, is something I feel like I can never live up to. Whenever some of us walk into the room, her face lights up and she drops everything to give us her full attention.

And for that I am so incredibly thankful. She taught me so much. How to love, how to catch more flies with honey than with vinegar and she taught me that it is okay to be scared, but that it should never stop you from pursuing what you want to achieve.

I know my mom was scared when she got pregnant and was dropped by all the people she thought she could trust and rely on, but it never stopped her from pursuing what she wanted: to be a great mother and an excellent veterinarian. Knowing that, I’m going to try to be the best version of myself, though I know damn well that I can never be as amazing as her.

For me, my mom is the most influential person in my life and I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.

≫≫≪≪

With my freshly graded essay, I walk towards my locker. This is such a great way to end the week. I worked my ass off on this essay and the fact that mrs. Allen gave me the full hundred out of hundred points is unbelievable. She never gives people higher than ninety points probably. I feel like I’m the first student in her entire career to score the highest grade possible.

‘There she is.’ I look up to see Trey walking up to me, already undoing his tie. He always tells me that he hates that thing with a passion and while I suggest he uses a clip on tie (like half the school does), he keeps on wearing the regular one. I think it’s so he can continue to bitch about it. ‘You’re going to Jimmy’s party tonight, right?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry, Trey, I can’t. I have plans with my family.’

‘The entire family?’ he asks, as he leans against the row of lockers besides mine.

‘Yes, the entire family.’

‘And there is absolutely no change at all that you can ditch them?’

I can’t stop my chuckle. Usually I go out on Friday, especially if Trey invites me, but right now I really can’t go. ‘It’s important,’ I say to him. I see him fake pouting, causing me to roll my eyes. ‘Come on, don’t pout. Jimmy has parties every two weeks. I’ll be at the next one.’

Trey grins. ‘I’ll hold you to that, V. Tell your mom I said hi and also say that to your dad, because I’m afraid he’ll kick my ass next time he sees me. Oh, and say hi to your sisters, will you?’

A few weeks ago Trey came over to my place, because we were going to do algebra homework together (and because we wanted to spend time together). Dad was ready to embarrass the shit out of me (I think he has been waiting for this moment since he adopted me to be honest—he seemed to well prepared), but mom swooped right in and Trey felt instantly at ease. Ever since then, he asks me how she is doing when I see him at school.

I know it’s tough for Trey. He wasn’t raised with a mother, since she passed away during his birth, but her three brothers raised him. He loves them dearly and because of that, he can handle my dad’s antics just fine. However it’s nice for him to have a motherly figure in his life, since his uncles never dated (they would get along well with my uncles) and my mom is the right person for that.

After that algebra homework moment we had, he has been coming over a lot more often and just a few days ago, I saw him giving my mom a hug. When I asked her about it, she told me that he always likes it when he is here and it turns out, that he told her all about growing up with only his uncles and how she feels like a mom figure to him. I like how he is welcomed into my family. My sisters are absolutely smitten with him and they love it when I bring him over, since they wished I was a boy, so they could have a brother.

It’s always nice to know that your sisters love you for who you are.

‘You know, you can come over too,’ I say, not wanting Trey to leave. ‘If you want to of course.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, but he already has a telling smile on his face. ‘I just don’t want to intrude an important event.’

‘You won’t,’ I laugh. ‘It’s been ten years since my dad officially adopted me. We’re going to celebrate at my grandparents’ place. My uncles will be there, my aunt, nephews and my sisters.’

Trey smiles. ‘Well, if you invite me.’

I close my locker and say: ‘We are going to celebrate this whole weekend, but you can only stay today if you want to, so you won’t miss Jimmy’s party.’

‘I don’t really care about Jimmy’s party,’ Trey admits. ‘I only wanted to spend time with you.’

It’s obvious that we have a crush on each other, it’s just that I’m afraid of committing. He doesn’t seem to mind though, that pull my hand back when he wants to hold it and that we haven’t kissed, though we’ve been on a few dates.

‘So,’ Trey says as we walk out of the school, ‘your dad adopted you ten years ago.’

I nod. ‘Yeah, he made me an official Cavill from that day. If I’m being completely honest, I never thought I’d have a dad. I always thought that it was going to be me, my mom and my pleads for a dad. For such a long time I thought it was enough, though deep down I wanted a dad, but sometimes it’s just not meant for everyone, right?’

Trey nods. ‘Right.’

‘I still remember the day we met him and Kal,’ I say. ‘And I just knew that I wanted that man as my father. I was six and though I need saw my mom with a man, I just knew that they were meant for each other, you know. We were standing around the examination table, because Kal was sick and I thought to myself that this was the man that not only I wanted in my life, but my mom needed as well.’

Trey’s fingers brush against mine and I hold onto his hand, for the first time in the weeks that we are circling around each other.

I think back to the times where it was just my mom and I. She was so strong for all those years of raising me, telling me the painful truth about my biological dad, my grandparents and uncles from her side of the family, arranging all different sorts of shifts at the animal clinic and bringing me to work when necessary.

I admire my mother and the way she carefully picked out a man that was worthy of becoming my dad, of adopting me and giving me his last name. I had been Vanessa Tran for so many years, but becoming Vanessa Tran-Cavill, had been such a blessing and for the first time in seven years, I had a dad, someone who cared about me.

Someone who loved me.

And right now, I have seen how much he loved my mom, me and my sisters. I admired the way dad took care of us, while still having an acting career. He played in seven movies since I met him and five of those were being filmed here in the UK, since he didn’t want to leave us for too long.

He posts about us on Instagram sometimes, but always disables the comments. A lot of people know that I’m his daughter, but they mostly find out when we’ve known each other for a while.

Trey and I get out of the bus, but I stop him, before we walk off to my grandparents’ house. ‘I just want to prepare you. I have four nosey uncles and a granddad who just starts to talk, not knowing when to stop.’

‘It’s nothing I can’t handle,’ he laughs. ‘Remember, I grew up with three uncles and their friends. This will be peanuts.’

I smile. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ I squeeze his hand. ‘Trey, before we go into the backyard, I have to admit something.’

‘I like you too,’ he says. ‘And I don’t mind taking it slow.’

My eyes widen. ‘How did you know I was going to say that?’

‘You’re predictable, Tran.’ Trey smiles and I roll my eyes. ‘It’s honestly no big deal. I really like you and your family and though I feel comfortable enough to go at my pace, I don’t want to force you into stuff.’ He gives me a squeeze back in my hand. ‘Your pace and no one else’s.’ He pulls me to him and wraps me up in a tight hug. I feel his chin on top of my head and I let out a sigh, before I close my eyes, nuzzling my face in his chest. This feels nice, I could get used to this.

I pull back a little, to carefully press a kiss on his jaw. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ I say, pulling him with me to the gate at the back of the yard. Together we walk into the backyard and I see everyone is already there. Uncles Piers, Niki and Charlie are standing near the barbecue, as my nine year old sister Elodie is poking Charlie in his sides. Belle has wrapped her arms around uncle Simon’s neck, giving him tons of kisses. Belle’s two year old son Hugh is trying to kick the ball, but he misses and falls flat on his bum. He waddles over to Belle, who is currently expecting another boy in four months.

My five year old sisters Chloe and Heather are the first to notice me. ‘Vanessa!’ they scream in unison, rushing towards me and wrapping their arms around my waist. ‘We missed you.’

‘I missed you guys too,’ I chuckle.

‘And you brought Trey!’ Chloe notices, jumping in his arms. ‘You are staying here for the barbecue?’

‘Of course,’ Trey says with a smile. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, munchkin.’

Everyone looks up and gives me hugs and introduce themselves to Trey if they haven’t met him already. Grandpa Colin gives me a big hug and slips fifty pounds not only in my hand, but also in Trey’s hand. ‘So you can take her out on a date, young man,’ he tells Trey.

When we walk over to my parents, Trey says: ‘Damn, I get fifty pounds for showing up here. Should I tell your grandad when my birthday is?’

‘Don’t,’ I say sternly, pinching his side.

Kal licks my hand and I scratch him on top of his head. He is not fat anymore (as if my mother would allow that). He is also not as active as he used to be when I met him, but he is still the most loyal and biggest sweetheart in the world, always taking care of me and my sisters.

My mom holds out her arms and Trey doesn’t hesitate for a minute to be engulfed in her arms. Dad wraps his arms around my waist and bumps his nose against my cheek. Elodie, Chloe and Heather often wonder why we do that, but it’s our thing and it’ll always be our thing. ‘There you are, sunshine,’ he says.

‘It’s a special day today,’ I say. ‘You have any regrets?’

He scoffs. ‘Are you kidding me? As if I could have regrets.’

‘You still have the receipt?’

He laughs. ‘Like I would ever use that.’ He gives me a kiss on my cheek and says: ‘You brought your boyfriend with you, I see.’

Normally I’d protest against his antics, but now… I actually don’t mind. I quite like it actually. I like the idea of Trey being my boyfriend. ‘Well, yeah.’

Dad gives me a big kiss, before he places me on my feet again. Trey wipes his hands clean on his jeans, before he extends his hand to my dad. I don’t quite know what happens after that, because mom pulls me into a hug. Though I’m seventeen now and my mom is reaching the forty already, she barely aged.

It’s admirable, really. After she gave birth to Elodie and she lost that much blood, it was the scariest experience in my life. I thought, with the way everyone was looking at each other when dad called, my mom would die. It took her six months to recover and I helped out the best I could, but I knew that asking for another sibling too soon, wouldn’t help. Four years after she had Elodie, she became pregnant with twins and after that she did not want more kids. Ideally she wanted three, I remember her saying that to dad, but now she had four and though she loved it, it was enough.

‘How was school?’ mom asks.

‘It was great. I got my English essay back.’

‘Oh really? How did you do?’

‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’

Mom tilts her head when she looks at Henry and Trey, who seem to hit it off actually. ‘You chose a good one,’ she tells me. ‘So proud of you, sweetheart.’ Mom wraps her arm around my waist and gives me a kiss. ‘Oh no, mom!’ she yells to grandma Marianne. ‘Wait, don’t carry everything.’ Mom rushes off to the kitchen and I can’t hide my smile.

I’m happy that all these people are my family. From the looks of Trey, he actually is a bit nervous. I walk up to him and my dad and wrap my arm around his hips. He is tense, but wraps his arm around my shoulders. ‘You’re not bugging him, are you, dad?’

‘No, of course not,’ he says, but I cock my eyebrow, causing him to say: ‘Just asking him what he will do with that fifty pound your grandpa gave him.’

Of course my dad noticed that.

He excuses himself, walking up to the barbecue, lifting up Elodie in the process. I look up at Trey and I ask: ‘I thought you said this would be peanuts?’

‘It will be peanuts,’ he tells me. ‘Just have to warm up a bit.’ He smiles, pearly white teeth framed by his full lips. ‘This definitely helps.’

‘Okay, love birds,’ uncle Niki yells, ‘come on. We’re getting ready to eat.’

I feel a blush creep up on my cheeks, but despite that, I still chuckle. He laces his fingers through mine, as we walk to the big table in the backyard under the parasol. ‘I just want to say one thing,’ grandma Marianne says, ‘and that is that I want to thank my son for overfeeding his dog, so he met the greatest veterinarian of all times, who—together with her oldest daughter—brought so much joy and happiness into the family.’

‘Mom, it has been ten years!’ dad says. ‘Please, let it go. I’m not overfeeding Kal anymore.’

It has been an ongoing joke, every time my dad gives Kal a little snack, at least one of the entire Cavill Clan says something along the lines of that we have to hide the other snacks.

‘But anyways,’ grandma says, ‘I am so happy that now we are this big and happy family. It’s all I really wanted.’

Everyone takes a deep breath, because we all realize that it could’ve gone so differently. I clear my throat and say: ‘I got my English essay back and got myself a hundred out of a hundred points.’

‘Shut up!’ uncle Piers says. ‘You got a perfect score? When was the last time something like that happened with us?’

‘None of you boys ever got a perfect score,’ grandpa Colin says. He sometimes can’t remember how to use the remote, what my sisters or my name is, but this he knows.

‘Anyways,’ I say, ‘it does have something to do with what happened ten years ago. I mean, becoming officially a Cavill has been the greatest thing ever. I watched my life do a complete one eighty and though I have to thank my dad for that, there is one woman who absolutely changed my life and is such a wonderful role model for not only me, but also my sisters, that I decided to write my essay about my mom.’

Mom’s eyes widen, before she scrunches up her nose. ‘Why?’

This is such a typical reaction from her, so I cannot stop my laugh. ‘Because mom, you are amazing. Everything that I have, started with you. Everything I understand, I do, I think about, is because of the way you took care of me and raised me. I know that I tell you this a lot, but mom, I love you so so much and everything you did for me, it’s so admirable. I owe so much to you.’

Mom clears her throat. ‘Oh sweetie,’ she mumbles. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’

‘You did so well, mom,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so lucky to have been raised by you.’

She grabs my hand and gives me a loving squeeze. ‘Sweetheart, could you come with me for a second?’

The two of us walk inside of the house, as we hear conversation strike up behind us. The second we are out of sight, she wraps her arms around me. This is what she always does, not wanting to cry in front of the other Cavills, always going to a secluded place. ‘I love you, Vanessa,’ she whispers. ‘I think I’ve done a pretty good job with you.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘You did an excellent job, mom. You are honestly the biggest power house I’ve ever met.’

‘Could you imagine what would’ve happened if Belle was able to baby sit you?’ mom asks. ‘Because you, my love, charmed yourself a way into your father’s heart.’

I chuckle. ‘I kinda did, didn’t I?’

Mom smiles, as she holds tightly onto my hands. ‘I know you always thank me for giving you the family you always wanted, but remember: if you weren’t so instantly in love with your dad, I don’t know if I had given it a shot to be honest.’

That is such a weird thought, I think to myself. I always stop myself when I want to think about the ‘what ifs’ and my entire family never really brought it up. Maybe when I was younger, but never with me. But what if indeed I were to stay over at Belle’s place, I would’ve never known that Henry was there probably. Imagine the life that we would’ve had. Maybe I had given my biological father Wesley a chance and then I didn’t have my three wonderful sisters.

‘What are you two doing here? Poor Trey is being questioned by Niki, Charlie and grandpa and the old man is not holding back.’ My dad walks in and though he has reached the ripe age of forty eight, he is still the tall and bulked up man that I met in the examination room. He is still the man that loved me like I was his own.

‘Just thanking my daughter for being such a lovely girl, who charmed her way into your heart.’

‘Oh, you sure did,’ dad says with a smile. ‘My lovely sunshine, I love you so much and I can’t believe it’s been more than ten years since I met you and your mom.’ He wraps his arms around us and says: ‘Though I still feel the fear of Kal vomiting on the carpet with blood, I am so grateful that you picked up and the other clinics didn’t.’ He presses a kiss on my mom’s forehead.

‘Dad, when did you realize you were in love with mom?’

‘Well, I told myself that I shouldn’t have a crush on someone that I barely knew,’ dad says, ‘but I can tell you that deep down in my heart I knew that this beautiful woman stole my heart the second she said the seven words that I’ll never forget. Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat.’

≫≫≪≪

Bonus instagram posts:

Elodie and Vanessa

Elodie with Olivia

Pregnant with twins!

Pre teen Vanessa showing Henry that he is an actual boomer

Chloe and Heather

Vanessa as a teenager

Elodie as a teenager

Chloe and Heather as teenagers

A/N: soooo this is the end of this wonderful story, though I wish this would go on forever. Thank you so much to all the people who have been reading this, leaving lovely comments. Thanks to this story I gained so many new followers. I never expected it to blow up like this haha. Not to self promote but will do anyway, but please check out my other works if you haven’t already (and if you want to of course, I’m not going to force you to read my other fics) and of course I’ll be back with other fun projects, that I obviously will announce like usual 🤗

[miss-tc-nova]

The Grandson’s Wish - Brain & Eraqus Pt 2/2

I really really love these two. Gods I need more Grandpa Brain stuff. 

By the way this 2 part mini-series was inspired by the song “You Will Be Okay” from episode 2 of Helluva Boss. I may or may not have cried...a little...

~~Part 2~~

              He stands there, staring at the door that doesn’t appear to be opening any time soon. Still, there’s a racket going on inside so he knows there are people home. Despite the potential scolding that awaits him, Brain lets himself into his daughter’s home.

              The foyer is empty, but the chattering floats in from the door on the left—one of the rooms meant to see temporary guests as Brain recalls.

              “But I like this one.”

              Standing in the middle of that room is Eraqus, surrounded by clothes of many colors while a trio of women sort through them and his mother watches on. The white haori is just slightly too big on him, but he’s still a growing boy. He’s currently busy giving his mother a pleading look while she’s far less impressed.

              “No. It’s too bright and you’re just going to end up ruining it,” the daughter says sharply.

              “I think it looks pretty good.”

              All eyes snap to the man in the doorway. One face lights up while another looks minutely inconvenienced, the other three are unknowable as the women bow—a common occurrence at the Grandmaster’s entrance.

              Beaming, Eraqus waves his too-long sleeve, but the daughter greets him with, “Dad, what are you doing here?”

              “My grandson’s entrance ceremony is tomorrow. He’s going to be a keyblade warrior so I thought I’d stop by to see how he was doing.” Brain glances around. “But uh…what’s all this about?”

              “He needs to look appropriate tomorrow so we’re picking out new clothes for him.”

              “Ah.” In reality, Brain didn’t really agree with the concept, but he never fared well arguing with his daughter about things like this.

              “Seriously, can we just be done?” pleads Eraqus, shirking out of the jacket. “I’ve tried on like a million things already.”

              Clearly exasperated with her son, the woman gives. “Fine. None of them have looked as good as the blue one anyway.”

              One of the women follows the daughter out of the room while the clothes are put away by the others and Eraqus slips behind a room divider to change. As the women pack up, Brain slips one of them a handful of munny in exchange for the white haori. The two boys then help them carry their items out to the cart outside before bidding them goodbye.

              Seeing as she hasn’t come down to start another conversation with him, there’s a good chance his daughter is busying herself with preparations for tomorrow, not that it really bothers Brain.

              “Well that seemed like a party,” he comments as they amble back inside.

              Eraqus, less enthused, groans, “Ugh, I kinda just want it to be over.”

              “Really?” Grandpa questions, concern creeping in. “You’ve been looking forward to this since you could reach my knees.”

              With a sigh, the boy flops onto the sofa. “I know, but mom’s taking it way too seriously. She made me practice the ceremony every night this week. I know she means well and appearances are important to her, but I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

              This is exactly the life Brain worried Eraqus would grow into, but he’s been doing his damnedest to make sure the kid has some perspective above it all. Though perhaps Eraqus always would’ve been fine if he could pick out the things his mother is truly concerned with.

              “Yeah, she’s a very proper person.” The man sits beside his grandkid. “But sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.”

              Eraqus arches an ebony brow at his grandfather, only for both eyebrows to jump in surprise at the white fabric handed him.

              “Is this for me?” He sounds as if he dares not hope despite how longingly his thumbs run across the fabric.

              “Of course. Think of it as an early congratulations gift.”

              There’s that smile Brain enjoys seeing. “Thanks Grandpa.”

              On his feet, Eraqus pulls the jacket on and his grandfather lets out a low whistle. “Still lookin’ good, but you’ve got some growin’ to do, Sunshine.”

              The kid laughs, but the smile slips away as he sits back down. “Was it like this when you became a keyblade wielder? So stressful and formal?”

              “Oh no, but sometimes order is a good thing. In my day, people would just suddenly show up with keyblades.” Memories of his first mission—his first near death experience—trouble the man. “They didn’t know how to use them but were told to go to mysterious lands and fight the darkness. Survival rates were terrible, especially if you didn’t have any friends to keep an eye out for you.”

              “Really? But I heard you were a loner before you became a leader.”

              “Mostly,” Brain says with a smile. “I was pretty lucky your grandma had a soft spot for awkward guys.”

              “But you’re such a great leader now.”

              “Yeah, because of her. Your grandma taught me a lesson that gave me the light I needed to become a leader. She drilled it into my head that the bonds we share with other people are the most important things we can have.” He pokes at Eraqus’s chest. “That’s why, no matter where our paths take us, I’ll always be with you.”

              That seems to soothe some of the anxiety Eraqus has been building, but he’s still got some questions. “Do you think I could ever be as good as you?”

              “Kid, I think you’re gonna be leagues ahead of me.”

              Eraqus lets out a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know about that.”

              “I do. I’ll make sure of it.”

              “How?”

              The master gives a cheeky grin. “I just told you, now didn’t I.”

              Whether or not he understood that meaning, Eraqus returns the exact same smile.

              Grandfather and grandson visit for a while, perfectly comfortable in each other’s company unlike anywhere else. Even in his daughter’s house, Brain can be no happier than when he’s with Eraqus. Each and every time, he’s reminded of how much better the future will be with this kid protecting it. The Dandelion fought so hard to bring everything to this exact moment, but his heart always has that moment of relief knowing things will only get better for the generations to come. After all these years, Brain still can’t help feeling that Eraqus has made the suffering worthwhile.

              “Dad.” The Grandmaster’s gaze looks to the woman. She beckons him to follow.

              “Uh oh. What did I do now?” he grumbles as he stands, smirking when he hears Eraqus snicker.

              He joins his daughter in the foyer where she looks as serious as ever.

              “What’s up?” Brain asks.

              “I just got a message that there’s a Heartless problem and you’re the only one available who can handle it.”

              That’s does not sound good. “Oh yeah?” She nods. “Where at?”

              “The Keyblade Graveyard.”

              Icy claws seize Brain’s heart. He prayed almost every night that he would never have to return to that place. It’s full of dread and grief—but he is a master after all; a leader who must protect what he created.

              “Are you sure?”

              “Yes.”

              A low, steady breath is a meager attempt to contain the trembling that threatens to take over.

              “Okay. Just let me say goodbye to Eraqus and I’ll go.”

              Without another word, she leaves him be. Again, a moment is taken to carefully ensure not a single trace of his doubt is showing before he heads back for Eraqus.

              “Sorry kid, looks like I gotta go.”

              The boy hops up with worry in his eyes, but he has no idea. “But you’ll be back tomorrow right? For the ceremony?”

              Somehow, the man puts on a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

              “Okay.” The relief in Eraqus proves Brain’s skimpy façade worked.

              By a nervous tic, Brain’s hat is adjusted. “Alright. You take care, Sunshine. And remember, may your—”

              “—my heart be my guiding key.” With shining granite eyes, he gives his grandfather a beaming grin. “I’ll never forget.”

              Laughing, Brain ruffles that wavy mess of hair. “Good. Now you save a seat for me, okay?”

              “Yeah.” Without warning, Eraqus steps forward to embrace him. “Be safe, Grandpa.”

              A bit taken off guard, it takes Brain a second to hug him back, but nothing could make him happier. The anxiety that had sucked the warrior in takes a hit; this kid doesn’t understand the confidence he instills in the old man. Maybe it’s not the future that’s lucky to have Eraqus, but Brain himself.

              That hat tips forward just enough to shield his stinging eyes from the world. “Will do.”

~~~~~

              Black shadows flitter from existence. With their disappearance goes all the noise, all except the heavy pants of the warrior himself. The peace following his victory is quickly tainted by the worry working into his mind.

              “I’m gonna be late,” he huffs.

              As the man sets out, an agonizing pain sears through his chest. Hot crimson seeps past his fingers, glistening in the moonlight.

              “Shit!”

              The threat had been more than he was prepared for. A beast he hadn’t seen since his days in Daybreak Town made its appearance—a beast usually taken on by teams of wielders. Well Brain succeeded in taking the monster down, but not without serious injury.

              A cloud of smoke appears, producing his lifelong companion; however, rather than their usual sass, the Chirithy looks concerned—that’s not a good sign.

              “Brain?”

              “Chi-chi,” he grimaces, clamping his hand down on the gash. “How much time do I have before the ceremony?”

              The feline hesitates but pulls a pocket watch from their purse. “It starts in fifteen minutes…”

              Legs trembling, he makes another attempt to leave—the result is the same. This time, his knees give out, sending the man to the ground.

              “Fuck!”

               Palms against the ground, his muscles quiver from the effort but make no progress. Desperation begins to set in beside the invading cold. This is the last place he was supposed to be; he should be at home, preparing for the entrance ceremony—he should be with Eraqus.

              No matter how hard he strains, Brain can’t push himself off the ground. Before long, he can’t even make the effort; all his body can do now is produce tears. They represent so many things fleeting through him: sadness, fear, anger—most of all, regret.

       “AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!”

              A gentle paw wipes away some of the water while another slips into his freezing fingers. “I’m so sorry, Brain.”

              An invisible weight in his chest makes it difficult to breathe and the cold is dissolving into nothingness. As the dark world grows darker, Brain’s last thought trail to his grandson.

              Forgive me, Eraqus…I’m not making it to the entrance ceremony. I’m sorry…

~~~~~

              Night drapes across the sky to welcome the stars. The salty air floats by, rotating turbines and ruffling hair. Boots clack against the stone as the young man makes his way along the docks.

              Life in Kingdom Hearts has been so serene; Scala has never looked so perfect, his friends are here, his wife is here, and there are no monsters to fight. It’s everything he’s always wanted, but Brain is far from happy. He’s only been here a few months and, while the freedom from all those responsibilities is nice, his end still haunts him.

              Today is the day of the Founding Festival; turns out it’s a holiday among the dead as well. Supposedly, this is where the all the lanterns end up. Brain didn’t really feel like celebrating, but his wife insisted. Admittedly, he enjoyed himself, but mostly he enjoyed her enthusiasm rather than the event itself. Seeing the lights rise from the water had also been quite the sight, but he didn’t participate in looking to see what the living were wishing for, instead, content to watch his wife do so. But it’s over now and the man insisted he needed a moment to himself.

              With a grunt, he sits at the edge of the water, staring out at the placid ocean. Guilt eats at his insides for being a downer given all the things returned to him, but it plays second fiddle to the heartbreak crashing in—this is the first year he didn’t spend the Founding Festival with his grandson.

              Sighing, Brain reaches up to clear his eyes. It’s a miserable attempt and he gives up, only to be met with a surprise.

              Before him floats a flickering light; it’s one of the paper lanterns, but the last ones arrived over an hour ago.

              Careful not to fall into the water, Brain pulls in the late-comer. Carefully, his hands turn it over. Printed on the paper is the wielders’ crest. It’s a popular pattern and he saw several of them earlier.

              A face, one so familiar it tugs at his heart, flashes in his thoughts. As if it had burned him, Brain releases the lamp, leaving it hanging in the air before him. The startled man stares in shock.

              This is from Eraqus…

              He hesitates, afraid to delve into the wishes of his grandchild. There’s no doubt that boy was heartbroken over his death, but Brain had no way of knowing if he held the broken promise against him. Maybe he didn’t deserve to guide such a bright young man; maybe someone else is better suited to lead him.

              No, I owe it to him. I told him I’d always be there…

              Chilled, ocean air fills his lungs as he tries to regain his nerve. Fighting the quiver in his fingers, Brain recaptures the lantern and focuses on his grandson’s wish.

              “I hope you’re proud of me, Grandpa.”

              Instantly, knees hit the stone. Teeth grit in a poor attempt to contain the overwhelming emotions. They easily destroy his petty resolve and there’s no use fighting the tears that patter to the ground. With every sob, his body shudders but, for the first time since his arrival, Brain finally feels at peace.

              Always.

[somethinginthethunder]

everything is gonna be alright (dumb with love pt. 2) [joe mazzello x reader]

s o b it’s here!! i’m so sorry this is late :’) i think i kind of like this one more? i dunno! but i’m just going to say that you probably don’t need to read the first part to this story! it works separately! hope you enjoy, because i swear i suck at series. if i have any mistakes i need to edit, do tell! thank you for being patient!

word count: 2211

summary: another visit to your grandmother, and this time, joe will be coming along!

tw: none, except maybe mentions of possible death and a sick family member.

reblogs, comments, and any interaction is greatly appreciated if it is sincere!! please don’t feel obligated to do so if you don’t want to :)

___

How did this happen? You weren’t sure.

No, actually, you were exactly sure.

It was those damn letters. The letters that got you to take more than one look at your neighbor. The one letter that sparked the whole thing in all.

And now, here you were. Ah, yes, you, your boyfriend of a couple of years, and full-grown dog who insisted on sleeping right between the two of you, legs sprawled out.

Joe was supposedly asleep beside you, with Hades facing him, his nose and paws twitching as he seemed to be having a dream.

Meanwhile, you were getting no sleep. Laying on your side, you were texting with your father. Apparently, you grandmother was only getting sicker.

It seemed like she had been doing well, but now her health was spiralling down, almost twice as worse. And you didn’t want to imagine what might happen if it kept going.

Papa Can you make it next week?

Me I can see :(

Papa Ok dear, tell me when you arrive. Your mother, sister and I will be here.

Me For sure <3 but how long does she have left?

Papa A few more weeks, maybe, if she’s lucky. I dunno, n/n. But she wants to see you and Joe.

Me Got it-- i’ll update you soon. Love you, Papa

Papa Love you, too, sweetheart.

Although it didn’t look like it, you were more than worried. Only a few weeks left? That wasn’t enough time. Not enough time for her to see her grandkids grow up. Not enough time to see them get married, not enough time to travel back to her home country one last time without being miserable. Just not enough time.

It hurt.

“Y/n? Baby, why are you awake?” Joe asked, squinting at his phone screen to see what time it was.

Wiping away the developing tears, you turned off your phone and turned to face your boyfriend.

“No reason,” you murmured, looking over Hades’ head and fur to initiate eye contact with him. Of course, his face screamed that he knew you were lying. 

“It’s like, two in the morning, and you usually love sleep. What’s wrong?” he mumbled quietly, reaching over the dog to intertwine hands.

“My grandma is sick,” you finally admitted. “Well, getting sicker, that is.”

His eyes became more awake at this. Usually, that wasn’t a strange statement to him, but from the time you were telling him this and the way you said the sentence itself, it sounded worse than all the other times he had heard it.

Squeezing you hand gently, he asked, “How much longer?”

“A couple of weeks.”

Some silence to let the information settle in his mind.

“Well, we better visit her soon, then, right?” he said, almost optimistically.

Exhaling, a bit amused, you nodded. “Yeah, soon. But I’ve got a lot of requests, and I’ll have to reschedule some appointments-”

“It’ll be okay, they’ll understand,” Joe insisted, knowing where you were going with this. If you had to take a trip somewhere on a short notice, it usually meant disappointing some costumers and even angering a few, too. Which you always hated doing, putting yourself to the highest standards.

“But what about all th-”

“It’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I promise. Besides, i’m here to help take care of everything anyway,” he reassured, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand comfortingly. “We can figure this out when the sun is actually awake. I’ll be here, it’ll be alright.”

“Okay,” you agreed tiredly, still a little on edge with everything. But your body seemed to say sleep was the number one priority.

“Okay,” he echoed quietly, releasing your hand momentarily to brush the hair away from your face before intertwining hands again. “Goodnight, n/n. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Joe.”

Days later, you were back in your hometown, with Joe helping your carry luggage out and into your father’s car. 

“There you guys are! The rest of us are waiting with your grandmother in her room,.” you father laughed, giving you a kiss on the forehead when he exited the vehicle.

“Hey, Papa,” you said brightly, giving him a brief hug before putting the last of the luggage into the trunk.

“Where’s that little dog of yours?” 

“He’s with one of my friends, so he’ll be fine,” Joe answered, coming back from putting his share away.

“Ah, Joseph!” your father said enthusiastically, giving him a tight hug as well, to which Joe returned gratefully.

When you first introduced your boyfriend to your family, they were ecstatic that you had found someone. Admittedly, you father was harder to get to, but it wasn’t long before they were asking you about him if he was at work, or asking when marriage and children were coming along.

It was a bit embarrassing at times, admittedly.

Upon arriving at your grandmother’s hospital room, the first thing you noticed was your poor grandma and the gifts all around her. It seemed her old friends and neighbors had gotten message of her worsening condition, as well.

Sitting right next to her was your mother and younger sister.

“Oh, Joe, Y/n, you’re here,” your mother said first, relieved. She gave the both of you a hug, giving you a kiss on the cheek and squeezing your boyfriend’s arm, as if trying to make sure you were both really there.

“Hey, m/n,” he greeted, resting a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. 

“Mama,” you said, giving her an almost melancholy smile.

“Jeez, not even a hello?” s/n said, feigning annoyance as she stood.

You rolled your eyes playfully at your sister, giving her a hug as well. “If you were patient, then you would’ve gotten one,” you said, mocking her a little while doing so.

“Whatever, this is why Joe is my favorite out of the both of you,” she teased, hugging you in return before giving the same greeting to your boyfriend.

You gasped. “I am offended!” you said, as the two of them let out a hearty laugh.

“Well, I am honored,” Joe answered, playing along.

The laughter of you all quieted down quickly, since the last person you were to greet was your dear grandmother. She was sitting up in her bed, a fond smile on her face as she watched the interactions between the two of you.

“The gang’s all together?” she questioned, shakily opening her arms for a hug. You took up the space immediately, wrapping your arms around her gently. Her scent was exactly the same as always, with that hint of cinnamon and the garden she usually kept behind her home.

“Oh, yes, Grandma,” you nodded, trying to imprint this moment into your mind forever, since you didn’t really exactly know how long she was going to stay here.

“Where’s my great-grandbabies?” she scolded out of the blue.

You gave out a laugh. “We don’t have children yet!” you exclaimed, pulling away to let Joe take your place.

“Oh, well, you guys will do,” she sighed, grinning as she saw Joe come for the hug. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, mumbling something about youngsters these days taking longer than in her time.

It was peaceful, it was quiet. Somewhere, in the back of everyone’s minds (except perhaps the woman in question), you all knew that these moments will be the most precious ones created in all this year. 

Despite being so sick, it seemed like she could talk forever, talking about her childhood friends, what her husband would’ve done if he were still alive, or whatever a neighbor told her last month about the damn animals getting into their gardens and eating the plants.

This went on for the days you stayed there. You all stayed in hotels, but occasionally visited her home to check up on everything that was left there.

Your stay lasted only four days, as you and Joe had work, of course, but you were leaving terribly late in the night. Because of this, you both had opted to spend pretty much the whole day with her, starting really early in the morning. The rest of your family would come later to see you off.

Oddly, your grandma seemed to only want to see Joe for a moment.

“Out of the room, n/n, I need to give this boy a talking before y’all go,” she said, insisting you leave the room.

Reluctantly respecting your grandmother’s wishes, you left and shut the door behind you.

Once you were allowed back in, Joe didn’t say anything, and neither did you grandma. You were worried she threatened him or something, but doubted it a lot since they both seemed to be in good spirits. Hell, Joe seemed even happier than before. 

And when the rest of your family had arrived hours later, Joe stood up from his place, receiving another kiss on the cheek from your grandmother. You could’ve sworn she said, ‘good luck’.

Clearing his throat, he turned to you, almost nervous. 

“Y/n,” he started, pausing to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “I bet you can remember the first thing that really had us talking. You needed to visit your grandmother and I had decided I would dog-sit Hades.”

Another pause.

“And I bet you remember the misplaced letter, and the one I gave you the moment I got the courage to ask you out,” he continued. “And I bet you remember that that was a long time ago. Well, really only a couple of years ago, but still.” A gradual smile seemed to grow on his face and the others around you.

However, this moment seemed to be taking longer to process for you.

“Well, I think those letters were the greatest thing to happen to me. If it hadn’t gotten us to notice each other, I bet I wouldn’t be standing here right now. I bet I wouldn’t have been walking barefoot with you in a park as we laughed at all our past mistakes. I bet I wouldn’t be nearly as much in your life as I am now.” Suddenly, his hand went to his pocket, reaching for something.

Oh. Oh.

“And every day, I keep reminding myself how lucky it is that that had happened. How lucky I am to know you and be apart of your life,” he added. “Because of that, I’d like to make sure that I stay in your life till the end of time, and that, hopefully, you’d like to stay in mine, too.”

And suddenly, he was down on one knee, a velvet box open in his hand with a modest ring sitting on a little cushion. 

“So, that begs the question, y/n.” You barely registered the gasp coming from mother, and the eager recording of the situation by your sister. 

“Will you marry me?”

Those words. Oh, you had dreamt of those words ever since you could comprehend the meaning of love and marriage as a little girl. They set your heart on fire, and to say you were surprised was an understatement. It made you shoot out of your seat, your hand coming to your mouth in shock.

He had a nervous smile on his face as he looked up at you, waiting patiently for your answer. 

“Yes,” you said. “I- oh my lord, yes!” you repeated, almost not believing the situation at hand.

That was all Joe needed, because not even a second later he was standing again, wrapping his arms around you and giving you a loving kiss. Cheers had erupted in the room and somehow from in the hall beside you (some people had noticed this little proposal).

The ring was perfect, nothing too flashy, but more than enough. And it fit perfectly on your ring finger.

Your father gave Joe a pat on the back, more than happy with the outcome, and your sister waited excitedly for you to show her your new ring. There were near tears in your mother’s eyes, and your grandma? She looked the happiest she could’ve ever been since becoming confined to the hospital building. You caught a little twinkle in her eyes, which told her that perhaps she had something to do with this. Actually, she definitely had something to do with it.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” your new fiance said, repeated the words under his breath when you parted from the kiss. His forehead leaned on yours as he looked into your eyes. For a moment, everyone had forgotten their troubles.

“How long did you plan this?” you asked quietly and curiously.

“I didn’t!” he laughed. “Well, proposing? For a long time, actually, but not how. Your grandmother organized it this morning, had even talked to your family before asking me to pop the question. The ring was her mother’s. Think she said she found it only a few days before being moved to the hospital. Did you like it?” “The ring or the proposal?” “Both,” he shrugged.

“I loved it,” you said, entangling your hands in his hair. “And I love you.”

“Good. Because I love you, too!”

In that moment, you knew everything was gonna be alright.

Everything was gonna be okay.

____

the end!! i might add another part fast forward in time, ngl. if you guys want to see that, then sure! i will probably also be adding joe’s p.o.v. when he was talking with your grandma about the sudden proposal. 

and just to make sure: they did not make him propose, obviously, if it seemed like that. she of course cleared it up and made sure it was something he wanted to do!!

anyway, here’s the taglist for what i’m assuming is this fic only. please ask if you’d like to be added to the permanent taglist!

@coincidence-ithinknots-blog @iamthebeth

permanent taglist:

@madamsledge

[disneysholland]

A Holly Jolly Hoax: Part 1 - t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom agrees to pretending to be your boyfriend for a Christmas getaway with your extended family. Who you just so happen to not get along with.

Part: 1/x

Word Count: 2.1k

“Hey, do you wanna pretend to be my boyfriend for the holidays?”

I had asked one snowy night at the beginning of December. It was just a joke and I hadn’t imagined Tom would take it seriously, but all he did was shrug and say, “Sure.”

“Wait, seriously? Are you sure? I wasn’t being serious when I said that I hope you know,” I dropped my phone into my lap and leaned backwards, letting my head hang off the back of the couch so I could see him.

“Why not? I know you said your extended family sucks, think of it as a friend helping a friend,” he shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Plus, I know from experience your mum’s cookies are the best there is.”

Mmm, my mom does make great cookies.

“Cookies? That’s what gets you?!” I shook my head, “You’re ridiculous.”

He plopped down next to me, wrapping me up into his side.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know. I don’t want you to miss out on the time with your family,” I pulled back so I could look at him.

“Ehh, I’ve had 23 years with them. It’s time to switch it up a little,” he winked.

“Thank you...You’re the best, Tom,” I grinned, leaning back into his side.

The next few weeks were spent learning everything about each other that we would know if we were actually a couple. Which side of the bed we sleep on, what we were like in the morning, everything. Luckily, we had been friends for years so we knew almost everything about each other.

I also had to give him background on the conflict that had plagued my family for the past few years. As my grandma got older and more sick, my mom’s siblings had to get involved more, as she was her caregiver and couldn’t do it all any more. For some reason, they all decided it was a great time to treat her terribly, calling her a liar and a thief, none of which was true. At one point I even had gotten involved, ruining the relationships I had with some of my cousins, which went back to when we were babies. 

For a long time it plagued me, and Tom knew it. When we had first met I was a shell of a human, worn out from all the family fighting. Somehow, he brought me out of that dark place I had been in. He gave me somewhere where I felt appreciated and loved. Where I could be myself.

This year will be the first year that I’ve had to see them all at once. And the best part of it all? We’d all be staying at a winter resort together. For five days. Talk about a disaster waiting to happen.

It was the one thing my grandma had wanted this year. After having the hardest year ever and spending the majority of it in a nursing home, she wanted to live and see the world. It had been on her bucket list for years, but my grandfather and her had never had enough money for it. Everyone pitched in so we could make it a Christmas she would never forget.

My mom has partially made up with her siblings, but me on the other hand? I’m a bit harder to make up with.

Something else that was also running rampant through the family was jealousy and also the feeling of not being good enough. When I moved away to work in New York City, I felt the judgment from everyone in my family. Why is she doing that? Couldn’t she do something better with herself? Poor girl...She’ll never make it in the city.

For once, I wanted to prove to them that I was worth something, and that I had my life together. It also felt like a way at getting back at them for treating me and my family so terribly, like look at me! I have a boyfriend and a great job, would you look at that?! Even if it was all based around a lie...or well, a fib?

Tom and I had been getting mistaken for a couple since we first met. Even by our own parents. My face also wasn’t a stranger to the tabloids. Practically every time we went out there were cameras on us, ready to capture the romantic night that they suspected it to be. We even had some of his fans believing that we were together.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish the rumors were true.

He was the sweetest and most genuine guy I’d ever met, which isn’t easy to find. Not to mention...look at him. 

We just clicked, it was like a perfect puzzle piece.

There was one time a few months ago when I thought he was going to kiss me. We had gone out to a bar and then we came back to my place and just talked for hours. When he went to leave, he went in for a hug that I had thought was going to be a kiss and well, my lips landed on his cheek and then it was awkward for a while.

Things went back to normal pretty easily after that. We had a way of doing that, we could always bounce back even after being bent out of shape.

---

On the Monday before Christmas I informed my parents about Tom, convincing them that we were a couple with ease. My mom was overjoyed, every time she had seen him, she gushed over him, willing us to get together. This was her dream come true. My dad was happy too, he and Tom had gotten along tremendously, both having enough to talk about with just golf alone.

Tom and I would drive to the cabin from the city as it was just in Pennsylvania, only a few hours away. Most likely, we’d be the last ones to arrive since I worked until Tuesday and we wouldn’t be able to leave until Wednesday afternoon.

“My heart is pounding,” I said as we pulled onto the road that lead to the resort.

“It’ll be fine, I’m right by your side, okay?” he turned towards me, placing a reassuring hand on my knee. I felt my cheeks heat up at the gesture, making me even more nervous.

A beautiful, large cabin was set off to the side, looking picturesque with snow drifting with each gust of wind. I recognized many of the cars parked outside and a few of my cousins and their kids out in the snow, already playing.

“Hey, Y/N. Look at me,” Tom said as I stopped the car, “It’s going to be alright. If anything bad happens we can just go right back to New York, we’re only a few hours away.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

Both of us then hopped out of the car, going around to the back to grab our suitcases.

“Y/N?! Is that you?!” My cousin Allison yelled, leaving the kids and her husband standing in the middle of a snow drift.

“Time to put on that happy face,” I said to Tom and turned towards my cousin, “Allison?! How are you?!”

“I’m great! How are you?! I heard you’re living in New York now, how has that been going? And is this your boyfriend?!” She gave me a shocked look.

“It’s been great! I love my job, I’ve made some great friends. It’s amazing, and yes! This is Tom, my boyfriend,” I said, placing a hand on Tom’s back.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Tom,” he said, reaching out for a handshake.

“Wait...Are you Spider-Man?! The kids are going to freak out!”

“Yeah, that’s me!” he laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Aww, you guys are too cute. I can’t believe how grown up you are Y/N! I still remember babysitting you when you were little,” she commented, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you guys to it!”

We smiled at her, then went back to our suitcases.

“See? That wasn’t too bad,” Tom said, nudging me with his hip.

“Oh, she isn’t the problem. She never came back after she went to college. You’ll see when we actually get in there.” I patted his chest and tried grabbing my bags.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let me carry those, I don’t wanna be a bad boyfriend.”

I shrugged, “I'm taking this one at least. I won’t feel useful if I don’t.”

We then made our trek up to the house, Tom struggling under the weight of both of our suitcases. Despite my attempts at helping, he wouldn’t let me.

Waiting just inside the front door was my dad, luckily, saving us from what was to come.

“So how is it in there?” I lowered my voice once I was close enough to him.

“Well they haven’t killed each other yet,” he mumbled, “Come here kiddo, I’ve missed you!”

I laughed, leaning in for a hug. “I missed you too, Dad.”

“You too, son!” he turned towards Tom, extending his hand for a handshake, “It’s good to see you two together, I always thought you’d be good together.”

“Daaadd, we just got here, you’re not allowed to embarrass me yet!”

“Darling, it’s okay. You embarrass yourself in front of me enough, I don’t think anything your dad can say will embarrass you more,” Tom joked.

I rolled my eyes and gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Oh shush.”

“You guys have room number 9 upstairs, you should probably take your stuff up before you well. See everyone,” my dad winked and then disappeared towards the living room.

Inside, the cabin was beautiful. Dark wood everywhere with beautiful furniture and a grand staircase right by the front door.

Just as I went to go up the stairs I spotted my cousin, Tara, coming down. I gulped, not quite ready to face this yet. All she did was give me a tight lipped smile and slip off into what I assumed was the kitchen.

At least she didn’t hit me or something.

I flipped around and gave Tom an irritated look, continuing to climb the stairs.

Room number 9 was just a few doors down once we reached the landing. Lucky for us.

I gasped as I opened the door. There was just one bed.

“They gave us a room with one bed?” I questioned as we entered.

“Of course, sweetheart! You guys are a couple after all,” my mom said, poking her head in.

“Mama!” I shouted and ran towards her, giving her a huge hug.

“My baby, I missed you! I’m so happy you’re here,” she said, “And with this wonderful boy too!”

“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he laughed.

My mom then released me and embraced Tom.

“It’s so nice to see my girl so happy! But you know, if you break her heart, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“Mom!” I yelled.

“What?!” She laughed, pulling away from Tom and patting him on the back.

Tom just gave an awkward smile and came to stand closer to me and sling an arm around my shoulders.

“If anything, she’s the heartbreaker in this situation,” he joked, “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t break her heart.”

I gave a soft laugh and turned towards my mom, still standing in the doorway.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get settled. I’ll be downstairs...avoiding my siblings.”

With that, she disappeared around the corner, leaving Tom and I standing alone in the room. His arm was still left hanging around my shoulders.

I gave a cough and he promptly removed the arm and turned back towards the bed.

“You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said, taking a blanket from the corner and laying it on the ground.

“No, I invited you, you take the bed!”

He threw his arms up in frustration.

“Let’s just talk about it later...Now? Is time to confront your insane family.”

I let my head droop, he was right. Now was no time to argue over who was going to sleep in the bed.

“Okay, fine...Just remember, they have a way of warping the truth. Don’t let them get in your head. Please.”

His eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

“If you’re worried they’re gonna make me ‘turn against you’ or whatever. Don’t. I know you too well for anything to ruin our...friendship,” he brushed a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Okay, well. Then if you’re ready...let’s go see the insanity.”

[letterboxd]

The Package.

As the bonkers genre thrill-ride Shadow in the Cloud blasts into the new year, writer and director Roseanne Liang unpacks her love of Terminator 2, watching Chloë Grace Moretz’s face for hours, and the life lesson she learned from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s Cheng Pei-Pei.

Roseanne Liang’s TIFF Midnight Madness winner Shadow in the Cloud landed with a blast of fresh genre energy on VOD platforms on New Year’s Day. It’s A-class action in a B-grade body, cramming plenty into its taut 83 minutes, including: a top-secret package, a freakish gremlin, a hostile bunch of Air Force dudes, outrageous stunts, dogfights and a fake wartime PSA that feels remarkably real.

Throughout, the camera is focused mostly on one face—Chloë Grace Moretz’s, playing British flight officer Maude Garrett—as she tackles all of the above from a claustrophobic ball turret hanging under a B-17 Flying Fortress, on a classified mission over the Pacific Ocean during World War II.

While the film’s tonal swings are confusing to some, schlock enthusiasts and genre lovers on Letterboxd have embraced the film’s intentionally outlandish sensibility, which “makes excellent use of its genre mash to create an unpredictable, guilty pleasure,” says Mirza. Fajar writes that “it felt like the people involved in this project knew how ridiculous it is and gave a hundred and ten percent to make it work. Someday, it will become a cult classic.” Mawbey agrees: “It really goes off the rails in all the best ways during the final third, and the last couple of shots are just perfect.”

Chloë Grace Moretz and her top-secret package in ‘Shadow in the Cloud’.

To most of the world, Liang is a so-called “emerging” director, when in fact, the mother-of-two, born in New Zealand to Chinese parents, has been at this game for the past two decades. She has helmed a documentary and a romantic drama, both based on her own marriage; a 2008 short called Take 3, which preceded Hollywood’s current conversation about representation and harassment; and Do No Harm, the splatter-tastic 2017 short in which her technical chops and fluid feel for action were on full display, and, as recorded in multiple Letterboxd reviews, established her as one to watch.

Do No Harm scored Liang valuable Hollywood representation, whereupon producer Brian Kavanaugh-Jones brought Shadow in the Cloud to her, thinking she might connect with the material. “It did connect with me on a level that is very personal,” Liang tells me. “As a woman of color, as a mother who juggles a lot.” She says Kavanaugh-Jones then went through the process of removing original writer Max Landis from the project. “He felt that Max was not a good fit for this project, or for how we like to run things. We like to be respectful and courteous and kind to each other…”

In several interviews, Liang has said she’s comfortable with film lovers choosing not to watch Shadow in the Cloud based on Landis’s early involvement. What she’s not comfortable with is her own contribution—and that of her cast and crew—being erased. While WGA rules have his name attached firmly to the project, the credit belies the reality: his thin script, reportedly stretched out to 70 pages by using a larger-than-usual font, was expanded and deepened by Liang and her collaborators.

Writer-director Roseanne Liang. / Photo by Dean O’Gorman

That team includes editor Tom Eagles, Oscar nominated for Jojo Rabbit, actor Nick Robinson (the titular Simon in Love, Simon) and Beulah Koale, a star of the Hawaii Five-Oh series. The opening newsreel was created by award-winning New Zealand animation studio Mukpuddy, after a small test audience got weirded out by the sight of a gremlin in a war film, despite well-documented WWI and WWII gremlin mythology. It’s an unnecessary but happy addition. The cartoon style was inspired by Private Snafu, a series of WWII educational cartoons scripted by none other than Dr. Seuss and directed by Looney Tunes legend Chuck Jones.

But the film ultimately hangs on Chloë Grace Moretz, who overcame cabin fever to drive home an adrenaline rush of screen craft, in which the very limits of what’s humanly possible in mid-air are tested (in ways, it must be said, that wouldn’t be questioned if it were Tom Cruise in the role). Liang would often send directions to Moretz’s ball turret via text, while her cast members delivered live dialogue from an off-set shipping container rigged with microphones. “I just never got sick of Chloë’s face and I’ve watched her hundreds, if not thousands of times. You feel her, you are her, she just engages you in a way that a huge fighting scene might not, if it’s not designed well. Giant empty spectacle is less interesting than one person in one spot, sometimes.”

Ambitious and nerdy about film in equal measure, it’s clear there’s much more to come from Liang, and I’m interested in what her most valuable lesson has been so far. Turns out, it’s a great story involving Chinese veteran Cheng Pei-Pei (Come Drink With Me’s Golden Swallow, and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s Jade Fox), whose film training includes a tradition of remaining on set throughout filming.

Roseanne Liang on the set of ‘Shadow in the Cloud’.

That meant that, during filming of Liang’s My Wedding and Other Secrets, Cheng would stay on set when she wasn’t required. “In New Zealand, trailers are a luxury,” Liang explains. “I said ‘Don’t you want to go to the trailer that we arranged for you?’ ‘No, I just want to sit and watch.’ ‘Why do you want to watch it, you’ve seen it hundreds of times!’ And she said ‘I learn something new every time’. To Pei-Pei, the secret of life is constant education and curiosity and learning. Movies are her work and her craft and her life, and she never gets bored. If I can be like her, that’s the life, right?”

Speaking of which, it’s time we put Liang through our Life in Film interrogation.

What’s the film that made you want to become a filmmaker? Terminator 2: Judgment Day is the movie that is at the top of the mountain that I’m climbing. To me it’s the perfect blend of spectacle, action design, smarts and heart. It poses the theory that if a robot can learn the value of humanity then maybe there’s hope for the ships that are us. That’s perennial, and possibly even more pertinent today. It holds a very special place in my heart, along with Aliens, Mad Max: Fury Road, Die Hard, La Femme Nikita and Léon: The Professional.

What’s your earliest memory of watching a film? I have a cassette tape that my dad made for my grandma in 1981 (he’d send tapes back to his mother in Hong Kong). I was three years old and he had just taken us to see The Empire Strikes Back in the cinema. And he can’t talk to my grandma because I’m just going on and on about R2-D2. I will not shut up about R2-D2 and he’s like, “Yes, yes I’m trying to talk to your grandmother,” and I’m like, “But Dad! Dad! R2-D2!” So it’s actually an archive, but it’s become my memory.

What’s the most romantic film you’ve ever seen? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s not the sexiest, but it’s the most romantic. That last scene, those last words where she goes “But you’re gonna be like this forever and I’m gonna be like this forever…” and he just goes “okay”. That to me is one of the most romantic scenes I’ve ever seen. It is a perfect movie.

And the scariest? If it’s a horror movie, the most scared I’ve been is The Ring. I was watching it on a VHS and I was lying on a beanbag on the floor and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t move, because I felt that if I moved she’d see me! Also, American Psycho just came to me this year. I caught the twentieth anniversary of that movie, which is a terrifying film, and again, possibly more relevant now than when it was made. The scariest film that’s not a horror is Joker. It scared me how much I liked it. When I came out of the movie, I was like, “I’m scared because I kind of love it, but it’s horrible. It’s so irresponsible. I don’t wanna like this movie but goddamn, I feel it.” Like, I wanted to go on the streets and rage. In a way we’re all the Joker, we’re all the Batman. That duality, that yin and yang, is inside everyone of us. It’s universal.

What is the film that slays you every time, leaving you in a heap of tears? This is a classic one, the opening sequence of Up. The first ten minutes of Up just destroy me every time. I also saw Soul a couple of days ago and I was with the whole family and I, just, if I wasn’t with the whole family I would have been ugly-sobbing. I had a real ache in my throat after the movie because I was trying to stop [myself] from sobbing.

Tell me your favorite coming-of-age film, the film that first gave you ‘teenage feelings’? Pump Up the Volume. Christian Slater! Off the back of Pump Up the Volume, I fancied myself as a prophet and wrote a theater piece called Lemmings. Obviously the main character was a person who could see through the façade, and everyone else was following norms. “No one understands me, I’m a prophet!” So clearly I have this shitty, Joker-style megalomaniac inside of me. It was the worst play, and I don’t know why my teachers agreed for us to do a staging of it!

Christian Slater and Samantha Mathis in ‘Pump Up the Volume’ (1990).

Is there a film that you and your family love to rewatch? We’ve tried to impose our taste on our children, but they’re too young. We showed them The Princess Bride—they didn’t get it. We literally showed our babies Star Wars in their cribs. That’s how obsessive Star Wars fans we were.

Name a director and/or writer that you deeply admire for their use of the artform. I have a slightly weird answer for this. Can I just give love to Every Frame a Painting by Tony Zhou and Taylor Ramos? They are my film school. I was thinking of my love of Edgar Wright, but then I thought of their video essay on Edgar Wright and how to film comedy, and his essay on Jackie Chan and the rhythm of action and then their essay on the Coen Brothers and Shot Reverse Shot. I must have watched that 30 times ahead of the TV show that I’m making now. I started out in editorial and Tony Zhou is an editor and he talks about when to make the cut: it’s an instinct, it’s a feeling, it’s a rhythm. I realized the one thing in common that I could mention about all the films I’ve loved is Every Frame a Painting. It’s their love of movies that comes bubbling out of every single essay that they made that I just wanna shout out at this part of my career.

Were there any crucial films that you turned to in your development for Shadow in the Cloud? Indiana Jones was something that Chloë brought up—she likes the spiffiness and the humor of Indiana Jones. Sarah Connor was our touchstone for the female character. For one-person-in-one-space type stories, I watched Locke quite a lot, to figure out how they shaped tension and story and [kept] us on the edge of our seats when it’s only one person in one space. In terms of superheroes, I came back to Aliens. Not Alien. Aliens. You know, there are two types of people in this world—people who prefer Alien over Aliens, and people who prefer Aliens over Alien. But actually I think I vacillate for different reasons.

Can there be a third type of person, who thinks they’re both great, but Alien³, just, no? Maybe that’s the best group to be in. We don’t need to fight about this, we can love both of them! I was having an argument with James Wan’s company about this, because there’s a rift inside the company of people who prefer Alien over Aliens.

Okay, program a triple feature with your film as one of the three. I don’t know. Ask Ant Timpson!

I’ll ask Ant Timpson. [We did, and he replied: “Well, one has to be the Twilight Zone episode with William Shatner: Nightmare at 20,000 Feet. And then either Life (2017) or Altitude (2010).”]

Thank you Ant! I used to go to his all-nighters as a university student. He is the king of programming things.

Jake Gyllenhaal in ‘Life’ (2017).

It’s strange that we never met at one of his events! Ant would make me dress up in strange outfits and do weird skits between films. (For those who don’t know, Timpson ran the Incredibly Strange Film Festival for many years—now part of the New Zealand International Film Festival—and still runs an annual 24-Hour Movie Marathon.) So what’s a film from those events that sticks in your head as the perfect genre experience with a crowd? It was a movie about a man protecting a woman who was the girlfriend of a mafia boss: A Bittersweet Life. Not only does it have one of the sexiest Korean actors, sorry, not to objectify, but also I actually screenshot a lot of that film for pitch documents. And, do you remember a crazy Japanese movie where someone’s sitting on the floor with a clear umbrella and a woman is lactating milk? Visitor Q by Takashi Miike. I remember just how fucking crazy that was.

Finally, what was the best film you saw in 2020? I haven’t seen Nomadland yet, so keep in mind that I haven’t seen all the films this year. I have three: The Invisible Man, which I thought was just amazing. I thought [writer-director] Leigh Whannell did such a great job. The Half of It by Alice Wu, a quiet movie that I simply just adored. And then the last movie I saw at the cinema was Promising Young Woman. The hype is real.

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‘Shadow in the Cloud’ is available in select theaters and on video on demand now.

[wexlerkimberly]

oh god, yearly round-up.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

side note: this is my TENTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! year of doing this!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have been on this website for OVER 10 years!!!!!!!!!!!!!! jesus christ.

ok. on a completely personal level, last year was so fucking dreadful that i remember falling asleep at my friends house on new years eve and thinking: “well, at least this year can’t be any worse”. HMMMM. in all seriousness though, despite everything, i have had a mostly decent year. i’m very lucky in lots and lots of ways. i’m lucky none of my closest family or loved ones have been effected too deeply by covid. just mild inconvenience, at most. i am lucky that i live in a house with such a large garden, so i could enjoy fresh air and family-free time if i needed to. i am lucky the weather has been mostly nice this year so i could go for plenty of walks. i’m lucky that i’m naturally a very quiet, anti-social person anyway so i haven’t felt the strain of isolation as severely as others. 

most of all, this year has been boring, if anything. but there’s still been things that have made it nice. january - birthday!!! i don’t usually go hard or anything for my birthday but it stands out to me as a really lovely day. i went for a walk to one of my favourite hills with my dad & dogs during the day. in the evening, i had badminton with my friends as i used to most thursdays (INDOOR SPORTS?!?!?!!? REMEMBER INDOORS SPORTS?!?!!?!?!) and then, as per our tradition, i went back to their flat for take-away chips and halloumi burgers. because they are so unbelievably generous and lovely, my friends bought me a new badminton racket for my birthday. i feel like i’ve barely got a chance to use this year, for obvious reasons, but i can’t wait to use it so much more as soon as possible. the following day, i went to work as normal but then went out to a really nice italian place with my family for a meal and we did birthday cake & candles when we got home. feeling stupidly grateful for so many thoughtful people in my life. february - again, this year has been so dry that a trip to the cinema could be considered a high point. but it was my only cinema trip of the year and just a really nice day. me & my friend saw jojo rabbit (which was great, if you haven’t seen it already) and afterwards we ambled around town looking at things in shops. it sounds so simple but i haven’t done any of that stuff since really, so it feels so exciting and exotic when i think back on it. 

february - stayed at my grandma’s house for the weekend. we do that as often as we can, usually, and it’s always nice. but - obviously - we haven’t been able to see my grandma much at all this year. it was nice to sit in front of the fire with her and watch tv and be given access to all sorts of baked goods and walk up the hills around by her. on the sunday, we managed to pop-in on my nana & grandad too and eat many baked goods there too.

march - meal out for my brother’s birthday. i feel like a lot of my “special days” this year revolved around someone’s birthday this year. but i think this was our last day of ‘normalcy’ before things went a bit crazy here. my family went to a caribbean pub with my brother and his gf and we had lovely tasty food and a nice night out. i think that was the last day i wore anything other than pyjamas or leggings for a long time.

april - no joke, i remember going to the vets during the peak of lockdown when the whole country was essentially shut down and it felt like THE most exciting day of my life. my cat was fine (she’d been bitten and needed painkillers for an infection but she was absolutely fine!) but i remember being near giddy in the car. my sister came with us too even though she didn’t need to because of how exciting it felt. 

may - my brother’s birthday. the other one. the first of our lockdown birthdays. we popped in to drop a card off at a friend’s who shares the same birthday as him. then we drove (DROVE! IN A CAR!) to a stretch of really lovely canal that my brother likes to walk on and had a great walk. in the evening, we ordered in an indian take-away and my sister had made a FAT four-tiered chocolate cake to celebrate.

may - ok this is very dumb but i finished breaking bad this year and i set aside a special date to watch el camino. i made a very sickly millionaire’s cheesecake and my whole family gathered round the tv to eat and re/watch el camino. it’s so dumb and silly but i was so excited, it felt like a special cinematic event. i cried. 

june - my dad’s birthday. my dad, my brother & me (plus dogs) drove out of the county (rogue fugitives!!!!!!) to meet my grandad for a socially distanced chat and picnic. it was a bit weird not being able to hug him and sitting on separate benches but it was still great to see him. we had a takeaway chinese for dinner and a chocolate cake for dessert.

july - my sister’s birthday. we technically celebrated it 4 days earlier because she had to move into her new flat but we had a nice indian take-away and another bloody chocolate birthday cake.

july - my mom’s birthday. i honestly cannot remember what we ate - i think we had homemade pizzas in the garden??? it’s weird when food dictates the differences between days. anyway, i definitely made another birthday cake.

july - went for a socially distanced walk with a friend i haven’t seen in ages. it was lovely and the weather was very kind to us and it was great to go walking across fields and to a reservoir i hadn’t been to in years and years. 

august - my brother got his GCSE results and we ate pizza in the garden to celebrate. after the monumental government fuck-up with results, we were a bit nervous about how badly they’d ruin his chances but he did very well.

september - went to visit my grandma. she had been living by herself for the entirity of the pandemic (she doesn’t mind, she’s loves to garden and she does online latin and pilates classes, she’s a very busy lady) but i think she enjoyed seeing us. we were plied full of food once again. we went for a lovely evening ramble on the hills right by her house. on the sunday, my dad went for a walk with a friend he hasn’t seen in ages while me, my brother and my grandma went for another hill walk elsewhere. i think my grandma really enjoyed that because she hasn’t been able to go walking much because she was so anxious about tripping and being completely alone, or being rescued by someone carrying The Virus. so it was nice to accompany her. after that, we had a nice socially distanced meeting with my grandparents in their garden. it felt very risky to me because i am insanely anxious but my grandma, my grandad and my nana are all very safe and healthy.

october - halloween!!! i never celebrate halloween BUT this year, i was so sick of being the house every single day i decided to organise something different. so in the evening, me, my dad & my brother went for a halloween walk in the countryside through a graveyard, then through a field where there used to be an old abonnonded saxon village, and then finally through hagley wood where bella of wych elm was found. my dad & my brother were completely uneffected but i was absolutely shitting myself at every tiny little thing. my dogs had their little flashing colours on and we all had torches but i was still so pathetically spooked by everything. after the walk, we met my mom in the car (i had to get changed in the car from my walking stuff to vaguely presentable clothes) then we went to a goddamn PUB!!!!!!!!! to eat a meal!!!!!!!!!!! i went a bit overboard making my family santise their hands every 5 minutes but we definitely had a lovely meal.

november - did a bonfire in the garden for bonfire night. ate homemade vegan chilli and then apple crumble. it was freezing cold and we tried to stay out there for as long as we could. i even managed to find some sparklers and me & my brother waltzed around the garden with them, likesay we’re not an adult and a child-grown. the others melted marshmallows on the fire and i just enjoyed watching the fireworks i could see and throwing balls for the dogs.

november - we’re brits lmao but when joe biden’s presidency was finally confirmed, we celebrated with an indonesian take-away because fuck it!!!!!!!! gotta celebrate where we could this year!!!!!!!!!! 

december - christmas!!!!!!!!!!!! we usually have christmas every year at my grandma’s house with my aunt and her boyfriend. it’s a fairly decent sized house out in the countryside and she has a wood-burning fire and it just Feels more christmassy there, especially as i’ve literally only ever spent one single christmas at home before. but we still managed to make it very special this year i think. my sister came on the 13th and we got quickly into a routine of watching christmas films in the evening. on christmas eve, i made vegan gingerbread biscuits and vegan mince pies and my sister made a chocolate yule log cake and then we watched a film. on christmas morning, we all opened our presents in our own living room which felt weird but was still lovely. afterwards, we went for a family walk. my mom pretty much single-handedly (me & my sister helped) cooked a whole christmas dinner for the 6 of us with all the trimmings. usually it’s my grandma, my aunt and my mom but the fact my mom managed to cook such a goddamn feast with our shitty oven where the grill doesn’t work and you have to slam the oven door at least 5 times before it shuts.......... i’m convinced she Might be superwoman?!?!!?!? and it was SO good. in the evening, we had cheese & crackers and my sister’s tasty yule log and we watched many a film. boxing day was much the same but still nice. this whole stretch between christmas and new years day is usually painfully boring but this year has been good, i think. i have consumed an entire army’s worth of cheese and chocolate and i have definitely enjoyed the snow we’ve had here recently.

so. yeah. this is very basic and boring. none of these things would usually end up in my write-up of the year. but i haven’t been to a single concert or theatre trip or even really left the midlands at all. in my round-up last year, i wrote some stupid sentimental bullshit about romanticising ��the most basic and boring aspects of life” and never has that been so apt. on the face of it, this year has been SO boring. but i’ve managed to make it enjoyable in the tiniest ways.

for example, i enjoyed every single sunny day. i would jump on the trampoline and listen to podcasts. i would go running and listen to podcasts. i would go walking and listen to podcasts. i owe a lot to podcasts, i think. but i definitively owe a LOTTTTT to walking. i walk for a living (i’m a dog-walker lmao) but i would still go out for walks with my own dogs in the evening or go out for walks with my dad in the morning where i could. if we thought we made good use of the pizza oven last year, this year has been insane. i have made and cooked SO! MANY! pizzas this year and they were all excellent. i feel like food has been really important this year. like i said, it helps distinguish the days, especially “special” or “treat” foods. like everyone i have done a lottt of baking this year. especially when it’s been such a great year for fruit!!! there’s a field near me and there’s just simply shit loads of blackberries and raspberries that grow there. i remember one evening sat in the garden eating some mango sorbet my sister made with some raspberries i picked from the field and thinking that life simply does not get better than that. idk. it’s nice to take pleasure in the smallest things i think.

but, like i said, i have been so lucky this year. i was only off work temporarily and none of my immediate circle have been directly impacted by the effects of covid. as annoying as they are, i’m very lucky to have spent so much time with my family - as opposed to be being by myself - because it’s nice when we make food for each other and watch tv and films together or go for walks together. 

god. this is long and waffley. if you read all this: what the fuck is wrong with you? but also: thank you! i know 2021 is definitely going to start off rocky but i strongly believe - and i’m a massive pessimist - that things are going to get better.  love and strength to everyone. wishing you peace and comfort x 

(again: i cannot believe i have been writing up this silly little incoherent things for a decade!!! sometimes i like to go back and read the earlier ones and remind myself of old fun times and cringe at teenage me. here’s to... 10 more years??? hahahahaha. anyway:here’s the other 9 years of nonsense: 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, and, finally, 2011.)

[raisingsupergirl]

When 2020 Hands You a Staycation, Make... Everything

My family was looking forward to our trip for months. My mom was going to take all of us to a beautiful cabin at Kentucky Lake. It would have been the first time we've all gone on a family vacation in literally decades. And man, did we need it. But, of course, we forgot to consider the 2020 factor. So, literally days before we were supposed to leave, the air conditioning went out in my truck, my grandma broke her hip, my grandma-in-law was diagnosed with a terminal illness (and passed away soon after), and my mom tested positive for COVID-19. And so, in a twist of fate that we all should have seen coming, our vacation turned into a staycation. And this is how mine went…

Like any respectable week stuck at home, my family's started with donuts. And the food just kept coming all week. It was my fault, really. I decided I'd play Master Chef, and so I cooked and I cooked and I cooked, from scratch. Fettuccine alfredo, sushi (x 2), all the grilled things (including my world famous ribs with homemade BBQ sauce), breakfast yummies, pizza (for my wife's birthday), and Sunday piña coladas. We can't forget the Sunday piña coladas. My family will back up my claim that it was all wonderful (even if my wife complained about all the weight she gained), but if I'm being honest, by the end, I was a little sick of cooking. Okay, a lot sick of cooking. And that unexpected side-effect was kind of the theme of my week.

Along with cooking, I kept the Martha Stewart Living dream alive by starting an elderberry tincture, bottling up some flavored alcohol I've been working on, cleaning my fish tanks, fixing my wife's shower, and spending three days power spraying All the Things—little honey-dos and creative projects to keep my mind and body busy, to make me feel like the week wasn't completely wasted. Unfortunately, that mentality royally backfired. You see, the thing about projects is that there's an endless supply of them. There's no finish line to the things that need doing. And once you start digging into the pile, you realize just how deep it is. And then you quickly realize how little time you have left to do them before you have to go back to work for another year. At least, that's what happened to me, which tinted every day with this little feeling of desperation, like I wasn't in control of my time, my work, or my life. And as I got further into the week, I started feeling a little worthless, like none of the things I was doing, had done up to that point, or would ever do again, meant a gosh darned thing. And that kind of thinking is a royal bummer when you're on vacation, let me tell ya.

By the final Sunday, it got to the point where I was sitting on my back porch with beautiful weather, good music, a colada in my hand, my amazing wife by my side, and my kids squealing in the kiddie pool, and all I could think about as I stared up at the fluffy, white clouds was, "Why do I feel so bad?" And then I felt bad for feeling bad. At that moment, my life was perfect. So why was I searching for more? Why did I feel like I hadn't done enough on my vacation—enough work, enough relaxing, enough memory making? I'd done my best all week to stay in the moment and be appreciative of my abundant blessings. But for some reason, it hadn't helped. I'd kept dreading my return to the "real world" despite a pretty stinkin' successful staycation. So what was it? What was bothering me about that perfect week? Well, I can be a little slow sometimes. The obvious often eludes me. Remember the first paragraph of this post? The one where all the bad things happened? Yeah, I guess I had tried to bury that reality instead of deal with it. And there ain't no amount of sushi or power spraying or piña coladas that can bury 2020.

It's strange that it took me going back to work on Monday to gain some real perspective. The thing I had been dreading was the very thing that saved me—that helped me appreciate everything about my previous week spent at home. Not because work was bad or hard. Quite the opposite, actually. My first day back was busy, I felt scatterbrained, and I was thoroughly exhausted when I got home. But it felt great. Getting back with my patients and co-workers, doing what I knew so well how to do, falling into a rhythm. It all helped remind me of who I am and what all I'd learned from my staycation (yes, I'm repeating that ridiculous word to annoy everyone who hates it). And, as it turns out, I learned quite a lot.

First off, I do actually love my job. I love helping people (even if they exhaust me). I love what I do and who I work with. I get burned out from time to time, but there's no other career I would rather do on a full-time basis. It offers a sense of fulfillment and stability that I've never appreciated until now (which has also given me a greater appreciation for all those people stuck at home in quarantine. I guess putting your life on hold isn't as amazing as it sounds…). Secondly, I love my family. There are some real memories from this past week that I'll never forget. Those lazy afternoons in the back yard with my wife while my kids played in their tiny pool. The mornings getting sunburned at my six-year-old's soccer games. The movie nights, laughs, and cuddles. Oh so many cuddles. Despite the craziness and heartache looming just outside our little pocket universe, my family and I really did make the most of it. Oh, and the last thing I learned? When making homemade pizza sauce, don't add baking soda to lower the acidity and then mix the resulting science experiment in a sealed blender. That is, unless you're looking to redo your kitchen.

On the bright side, my wife figured out what she wanted for her birthday—a new blender! That, my friends, is what you do when 2020 strikes. You make lemonade out of lemons. Sure, tragedy continues to weigh on our planet, our country, our society, and our families. Yes, my grandma's hip is still broken. Yes, my family lost a wonderful woman last week, and the world will always be just a little darker for that loss. Yes, the pandemic continues to rage. Yes, my county is second in the nation for active cases, which means full protective equipment and precautions at work every day. And yes, I'm going to have to pay a few hundred dollars to have my truck's air conditioner fixed. But you know what? My mom has been essentially symptom-free as she battles the Virus Which Shall Not Be Named. In fact, she's been out doing yard work. That's the epitome of making lemonade, folks. And this past Monday, on my wife's birthday, just when I was starting to feel bad that she hadn't had the special day that she so greatly deserved because I had to work and then drop off my truck at the repair shop, something kind of neat happened. The summer rain cleared away, and a promise revealed itself—a rainbow, tip to tail. God's reminder that he's watching over us. That there is always an end to the heartache. That no darkness lasts forever. And that, even in the midst of it all, there is beauty. There is laughter. There is hope.

So keep hoping, y'all. Better times are coming. It might get choppier before things start smoothing out. The school year and the winter are going to be challenging. But it won't be the end. "If you're going through hell, keep going," seems like wonderfully appropriate advice. So let's keep going, together. Let's remind each other what we're fighting for. Let's keep praying and taking extra time to help each other out. Showing kindness and patience when both seem to be in short supply. Oh, and remember, if you're thinking about ending it all by adding tomatoes and baking soda to a blender, just say no. Instead, maybe take a deep breath and power spray a smiley face into your sidewalk as a gentle reminder that it’ll all be okay.

[writingwithcolor]

I’m writing a story in which a nation of nonhumans, having been trapped in a pocket dimension for two millenia, integrates into human society. Would it be insensitive to have them successfully argue that, as they were indigenous peoples of the Americas, they should be legally recognized as a Native American tribe with tribal sovereignty? Native Americans (specifically of the Ojibwe tribe) magically trapped them in the first place, but I’m hoping that’s ok because all humans have magic, not just

“Native American mystics” or w/e, and the character designs aren’t based off any NA myths. But they’re VERY inhuman, resembling animals, and a subplot is that they’re called “monsters” so often they begin to embrace/reclaim the term. It’s mainly just a device to deal with the logistics of integrating thousands of new people (with their own established government) into the American political system at once, so I can scrap it if needed.

Ancient Monsters Indigenous to America; Should They be Called Native?

So. There are four parts to this question, based off how you’ve worded the question. 

1- Native Americans Shunning An “Okay” Group

2- Native American Monsters

3- Imposing Monsters Where None Exist

4- What Makes Someone Native

One at a time:

Native Americans Shunning an Okay Group

If these inhuman people are a genuine threat or were a genuine threat, then this is less relevant. But even if some of them were a threat, and the whole group was shunned, you end up recreating a big piece of racism in modern day:

Natives hate outsiders “needlessly.” If only they gave this group a chance, they’d find out they weren’t that bad. But they’re too mean to do that.

The modern caution around Native and colonizer culture mixing is, as the term implies, modern. Natives didn’t necessarily shun outsiders, and as evident by how colonizers needed us to survive for awhile, they were relatively welcoming early on. In Canada, we even have a whole group of people who were born out of intermarriage between traders and Native people: the Metis.

But non-Natives tend to take this caution as an insult, because they assume they should be welcomed with open arms despite the atrocities committed. Colonizers have far, far, far exceeded the threshold for “general mistrust”, but they don’t realize it. They think everything should be fine, because schools teach only that Natives used to be welcoming, but then turned mean and jealous without saying why.

For example, when I was in my teens, my grandma went on a probably 15-30 minute rant about how my (white) cousin wasn’t allowed to work horticulture on the local reserve because it was taking jobs away from Native people. My whole family spent the next hour agreeing with her, how they really were just so closed off and mean, he was just trying to help.

Now factor in how the largest group of unemployed people in Canada is Native people, because they lack job skills from a lack of opportunity. Now consider how horticulture was actually one of our specialties and there’s still a lot of tradition around how to take care of the land. And how a white person fresh out of college with a degree was being brought in as the “expert.” And how he was doing the work, instead of helping people on the reserve do the work (which would allow them to put landscaping skills on their resume, giving them a foot in the door)

Suddenly that “unnecessary shunning” makes a whole lot more sense, doesn’t it?

I want to know why the Ojibwe sealed them off. Because I highly doubt such a drastic action would’ve been taken if they were truly a benevolent group. 

Native American Monsters

And this is where things get touchier.

I want to ask all writers who want Indigenous monsters to ask themselves one question: why do you want to tie Indigenous identity to “monster” so strongly?

It’s a fixation I see time and again: the concept of Indigenous people as inhuman, as having ties to the inhuman, as having ties to creatures who could be feared. 

If these monsters are a complex society, are intelligent, are generally… people, then you’ve fallen more heavily into the first point I mentioned (which I’m uncomfortable with) but mitigate this part. They’re shown as people-like and worthy of respect, then it might work as showing Indigenous people aren’t inhuman.

Or it might further reinforce the concept that all Indigenous people are monsters.

Which one it does depends on the writing. Either way, it’s something I’m deeply uncomfortable with, just from sheer exposure. A lot of the questions I receive are about dark, twisted, criminal, or otherwise monstrous Indigenous people. Like, about half the questions. It’s a lot.

Why are we tied so strongly to monsters? What about Native identity makes this such an easy connection? Why just the monsters and none of our healing from them?

Why?

Imposing Monsters Where None Exist

Further, it’s honestly a bit weird to me that they don’t come Ojibwe/Great Lakes legends. Because I’d assume sealing away a whole population of monsters would merit some oral legends and teachings for how to seal them back away should they return. And these monsters would bleed into other peoples’ legends, with how each creature as a concept spread across such a wide landmass and across so many peoples. So everywhere these monsters touched, there’d be some version of the story.

It’s a little too close to playing god with real religions for me. Indigenous oral legends around the globe are meticulous, and when analyzed are as solid as written history. Creating a group of monsters that are not based in our stories, that have no oral histories and legends, just has me wondering how this impacted society. 

Monsters have a place in Indigenous society. They are cautions, they are warnings, they are sickness, they teach lessons about how to care for the earth and/or yourself to starve off the monster’s approach. 

(And no, this doesn’t contradict the fixation on Monstrous Natives. Why do you fixate on the monsters and not how we heal from them? I specify “we” because there’s a tendency to make the antithesis of Native monsters Christian, which further colonizers the narrative. We had our own ways of healing)

Indigenous people, in general, have history from around the Ice Age (Australian Aboriginals have from during if not before). Two millennia is nothing for the oral history, even if you brought in the angle that the stories were genocided out in the residential school system (Which would be a very touchy subject as well). Because something that big would be spread among a dozen tribes, and would have threads that survived in whispers.

Indigenous religions aren’t a mythology playground where you can free-reign insert or remove whole concepts like sealing away monsters willy-nilly. 

I’d run this concept by somebody Ojibwe before proceeding. They might find a way to make it work, or they might tell you that there’d be a much deeper cultural impact than can be handled by an outsider.

What Makes Someone Native

Here’s the thing: being Native isn’t just about how we were here first.

There’s taking care of the land. There’s our language. There’s our unity to each other. There’s our religion. There’s so much nuance to what makes somebody Native that goes beyond just time spent on the continent. 

Each tribe has its own definition of what it means to be part of the tribe. The government doesn’t always line up with who we are, but we have our own definition. A lot of basic principles are similar (sustainability, for one), but the nuance for each people will be different.

And the government still doesn’t recognize all the tribes that were self-governing peoples before colonizers got here. That fact alone makes it a stretch to believe these monsters could successfully argue to the government they belong as Native. The only reason I could see it as successful is the government rather overtly assuming Native people are monsters, which codifies the above.

You’ve got to keep in mind that the government wants as few Natives to exist as possible. Because the more Natives exist, the more political power we have, the more resources the government has to allocate towards us, and we are seen as an inconvenience. 

Getting off the registry of Native people is laughably easy. Getting back on is notoriously hard. This isn’t a case of “have a hearing and the government gives you full status rights.” It’s “we have petitioned the government to have our claim to this land recognized for literally hundreds of years and now they’re about to bulldoze our sacred land so we have to protest to put a stop to it and suffer the arrests and deaths required to keep our land safe and hope that this protest gets enough pressure on the government to have them back off.”

(True story. The latter describes the Oka Crisis, which thankfully did have the land restored, but not until 1 death on each side, and 75 Mohawk and allies injured. And it was a long, long, long drawn out process).

Natives are, technically, wards of the state. The more Natives exist, the more people the state has to take care of. And history proves the state absolutely hates taking care of Native people.

Overall

This feels off in multiple ways, for me. It’s treating our legends as if they’re just frilly decorations that don’t deeply inform our culture, for starters, then there’s how no matter which way it’s sliced it’s reinforcing some sort of racist idea about Natives: either we shun “good” groups for no reason, or we’re tied to monsters. Then there’s the assumption our identity can be easily expanded to include a nonhuman group when it’s more complicated than that. There’s also the assumption the government would actually work to add more people it has to take care of.

You’re going to need to do a lot more research and reach out to a lot more sensitivity readers. It’s so far removed from who we are and our cultural identity I’d take a good hard look at the concept before continuing.

~ Mod Lesya

COMMENTARY:

@octopodesinmybutt

So the concept of "indigenous monsters sealed away" would actually work really well with Irish mythology about the Fae/Tuatha de Danon. They're considered the real indigenous ppl of Ireland. It's a bit more complex than that, but you could look into it.

[masaru2042]

Hippity Hoppity, Stay off Railway Property!

Told as an r/entitledparents style parody.  What the engines really do have to deal with when it comes to entitled passengers.

So, I’m Dana.  I’m a driver of a sapient steam engine on a particular island that was made famous by a preacher writing a bunch of children’s books.  I’m the driver of the NWR #4 who pulls the Wild Norwester, aka the Express, a 4-6-2 Gresley A1/A3 Pacific known as Gordon.  Just a little background for those of you who don’t know who that is.  Gordon was the prototype for the A1 Pacifics designed by Nigel Gresley in 1922.  The only other A1 Pacific built in Doncaster by Nigel Gresley is Gordon’s younger brother Scott Gresley, aka the Flying Scotsman.  The reason why Gordon is now an A1/A3 is due to a rebuilt restoring him to his original shape as ordered from Doncaster, removing his straight Sudrian, white frame, and providing him with a Kylchap double exhaust to optimize fuel and water efficiency.  He also was outfitted with corridor tenders and his Sudrian frame and Fowler tender are now on display at the Sodor Railway Museum in Vicarstown.  

And me?  Well, I’m a transplant from Tennessee if anyone wonders why I’m not spelling in the English style, or using British slang.  Or BR and NWR terminology. And Gordon’s fireman is a funny guy named Josh with an equally funny boyfriend named Brian.  They both act like my big brothers.  And Gordon tends to act like my no-nonsense grandpa...among other things.  But we won’t get into those.

And just in case some of you still haven’t caught on.  Yes, he’s that big huge jerk from the Thomas and Friends show with the models.

Well, during the summer months, we get a lot of vacationers (holiday goers for you in the UK), and yes, lots of tourists.  Thanks to those books and the show, people do come from all over the world to actually see what the real engines are like.  And a lot of time, there’s a lot of dissonance from the fans who are expecting the engines to act like they do on the show.  They don’t. None of them do.  Henry isn’t a hypochondriac that complains about every little thing he’s feeling sick over, he’s in fact a very calculating, and intelligent person who pretty much knows secrets about everyone...even me when I had first come to Sodor!  Seriously, he’s really creepy!  Especially when he’s asking questions in a way to phish for information.  If Henry had a computer and actual hands, I have a feeling he might try to get into every government server on the planet just to see what personal secrets he could find.  Henry should be working with INTERPOL not the Northwestern Railway.

Thomas is very mellow thanks to his age, Percy actually can’t stand it when people think he’s a kid when in reality he’s older than Edward!  And he acts like it too.  The only one the show actually got accurate was James.  Yes, James is very full of himself.  Not as much as he is in the show, but he loves puffing around like he’s the king.  And Edward is pretty much a down to Earth guy.  And Emily acts like that older neighbor your mom knows who’s been around the world and back again and loves asking about your sign.  Yeah, that older neighbor.  The one with the bead necklace, the incense, and flowers in her hair.  I swear to God, she’s been to San Francisco.  Interesting little tidbit, Emily is the original Flying Scotsman!  No joke!

Well, it was a rather steamy and hot, summer day on the Island of Sodor, and yes I know what that sounds like!

We weren’t pulling the Express at this moment, we were actually just doing a tour excursion.  This is normal, it allows the tourists to ride the engines belonging to the “Steam Team” as the kiddies call it.  Something the engines belonging to this “Team” roll their eyes about the label.  And not in the comical way the models did.  The “uh-huh, whatever” kind of eye roll, and just chuff on by, not really caring.

So, it was our turn to take the train around, letting the tourists feel what it’s like to ride one of the fastest non-streamlined steam engines in the world.  And the one who actually did win the Great Race, even if he nearly killed himself doing so...beating out a diesel-electric and breaking his safety valve in the process.  This is something Gordon doesn’t like talking about, despite setting a world record in the process.  But still, we did give the guests a proper ride.  

Best way to describe Gordon gliding down the rails.  He’s basically like an antique expensive roadster.  You can tell the moment you tap your foot on the gas that he’s gonna floor it and show you what speed really feels like.  Not your grandma’s station wagon, I’ll tell you that!  Gordon, much like all the other engines, is always kept up to specs.  He pretty much runs as good as the day he popped out of the factory.  You wouldn’t have guessed that he’s nearing 100 years old.  Unlike his brother who is feeling his age no matter how many rebuilds he’s had.  If you haven’t come out of the coaches noticing your body made a dent on the seat, Gordon feels like he hasn’t done his job in making you feel his speed.

That is the power of a Gresley Race Horse.

We were cruising around, well...the train equivalent...and given that Gordon has two corridor tenders now, we could cruise for a long while.  Though we did have to stop a few times just for the passengers to get out take pictures of the scenery, that sort of thing.  Only this particular excursion was allowed to stop on the line.  Gordon was of course outfitted with special lamps to show that we had such permission to stop and were given proper notifications from our conductor of when it was safe to stop.  And when we stopped the guests were ordered to either stay in the coaches, or stay back from the train and rails themselves for safety reasons.  

No standing on railway property, basically.  

No standing in front of the engine on the rails.  

Do not get in the way of workmen and crewmen maintaining the engine.

We were making sure that folks understood this.  

If they got off for pictures, they were only allowed to be on the grass.  And only when they were ready to return to their coaches were they allowed to approach the train again.

Any questions they had, they could ask any of the service personnel and attendants.

And we all had radios.

We stopped, pulled over onto a siding.  And just in case he needed it since there was a lot of stopping and starting and that’s when he uses a lot more water than when he’s running, we stopped on a siding near a water tower.  Josh was filling up Gordon’s canteen and I turned on that little electric fan I clipped on above my station.  It ran off of Gordon’s dynamo too, and I was grateful for it.

I grabbed a cold bottled water from the cooler we had stashed near the main tender and pressed it to my forehead.  Already I could hear some of the kids asking “why doesn’t Gordon produce smoke from his funnel?” or “why does he smell like fish and chips?”  And well, that made me laugh.  A few months ago, Sir Topham Hatt converted Gordon into a waste vegetable oil burner.  So, that explains the fried food smell.  Honestly, it was a good thing because it often made the passengers even more hungry, which means they’d buy more food off the food cart in the Express.  Josh liked it too, he didn’t have to shovel coal anymore, just playground sand with a tiny, toy shovel into a little opening in the firebox to help keep the fire tubes from getting clogged from the oil being atomized.  And Gordon liked how much cleaner he ran.

I heard a few oldtimers snort about how that’s not a real steam engine anymore because of the oil burning rather than coal and then hear Gordon personally retort back: “You better tell Duck that, then!  The GWR went to oil in the 1940s due to coal shortages!  And don’t get me started about the poor caloric contents of today’s coal.  The wasted veggie oil actually is better for me.  Even Welsh coal is barely usable now.  No wonder the BR switched to diesel the way it did.”

And that’s why Gordon’s a WVO burner, folks!  And if any of you are wondering, yes!  He can run off of diesel fuel if he has to.  Which he did once, and no, unlike in the show, the real Gordon doesn’t bitch about the smell or look down upon diesel locomotives.

Well, enter our entitled family.  

I wasn’t the one who first spotted this family doing something they were instructed not to do by the attendants in the coaches.  That was Josh.  Gordon, on the other hand, was concentrating on what the maintenance workers were doing.  Tightening a lug nut, checking the mechanical lubrication injector, the lubricant levels, his exhaust steam injectors.  Clearing any debris out of the way, checking the fuel levels on the coaches.  Yeah, the coaches are diesel powered now.  Hatt went all out!  Servers were handing out drinks to the workers and the passengers.

I heard Josh call out: “Oi!  You can’t stand on that!  Step away from the track!”

The mother said: “We’re trying to take a group photo!”

I felt the cab tilt to the right just slightly.  Gordon’s attention was now on the family as well.

Josh: “I said, you can’t stand in the middle of the track.  Get back on the grass!”

I went to the fireman’s side of the cab, stuck my head out the window to see a very plump family, a rather large man, his equally large wife, and their cherry-red faced, plump kid in a horizontal striped T-shirt.  I also could see the patches of sweat under their armpits.  They were sweating more than I did just by stepping out of their coaches.

Then, Gordon spoke up with that big, booming, baritone voice of his.  Seriously, he should moonlight as a radio host, he’s got the timbre for it!

“You heard what my fireman said, stay off the rails!  It’s for your safety.”

Well, I hopped out the door from the cab and wiped my hands on my jeans.  

The family wasn’t willing to listen to Gordon, no matter how commanding he made his voice sound.  The father was standing on the grass with his smartphone out, taking a picture of the boy and his mother standing in between the railroad ties.  He was angled in such a way to include Gordon in the picture.

“You should smile!” said the entitled father.

Gordon growled and just sneered.  He wasn’t having any of it.  And if I hadn’t set the main brake, he’d probably jut forth just to scare the entitled mother and entitled brat off the track as a lesson.  I could hear a clacking sound, though, Gordon was flexing his friction brakes against his wheels, his way of tensing his muscles in his frustration.  His jaw was set, his teeth clenched, and his brow furrowed.

“Hey!” I called. “What the hell do you think y’all doin’?  Get off the track!”

I don’t think they liked my east Tennessean accent because the mother just turned and looked at me with disgust.  Like she was looking down at some dirty farmhand.  

I guess Gordon saw that face too, because the moment she made it, I heard a low groan from his wheels.  He sounded like he was trying to fight against the brake keeping him motionless.  The moment we met, he’s been rather overprotective of me.  It’s cute.  I could always count on him to have my back.  There was an expulsion of steam from the sides of his cylinders.  And he was rearing to open up his cock valves wide just to give them a good blast of hot vapor.  

But the mother stood firm.

“We’re trying to get a photo!  Now go back to your food cart, little missy!”

“Release the brake,” Gordon whispered, tilting towards me.

“No,” I said.

“I’ll run them over.”

“No you won’t.”

“They’ll be a bloody smear on my buffers.”

And they would once he started off.  Gordon had a lot of torque in him, he could start off in a burst like a motorcycle if he wanted.  And the last thing anyone wanted was 200 tons of locomotive racing for them.

“It’s not worth it.”

“How dare that harpy talk to you in such a manner, Dana!”

“It’s fine, sugar,” I said, laying my hand on a buffer. “Just breathe.”

He said aloud: “That’s my driver!  She’s not a serving girl!”

I heard the father laugh: “Girls can’t be drivers.”

I get that a lot!

And the clacking sound returned.

“You’ll ruin your pads doing that,” I told Gordon.

“And I’ll need to be looked over for hypertension,” he said. “Because I can feel the pain in the back of my smokebox already.  This woman…and her oaf of a husband...”

“Just breathe...in and out, Gordon.”

He took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth.  It wasn’t helping, though, as I could still hear the clacking of his brakes.

Josh had jumped down from the canteen and walked over.

“You heard what they said, off the rails, please.”

They actually listened to Josh.  I tend to get that a lot.  They don’t want to listen to me because they think I’m some food cart lady, despite not being dressed like one, but Josh...he looked like he belonged where he was.  So, he had a more air of authority than I did.  I guess it was my accent and how I try to put on that Southern sweet tea charm, you know.  So, they don’t take me seriously.

I’m a redneck to them, that’s all they care about.

Obviously, they were done taking pictures.  

Then, the kid turned and darted for the switch.

Points on the rails are set by switches that are either manually moved into positioned, or automatically moved into position, or done so from a signalman’s box.  Here, considering the remote location of this particular siding, the point had to be set by the conductor with a lever at the side of the railroad track after the conductor got the OK from RMC (Railway Mission Control) that the track was clear for Gordon to proceed.  Though this siding was on the mainline, it was quite a ways from a signalman’s box, so that’s why it had to be switched by hand from the conductor.

And yes, I realize they’re called Guards in the UK and Sodor.  But I did say I’m from the US...so...conductor.  And Gordon loves correcting my terminology.

Well, that kid bolted for the switch, and started messing around with it.

Gordon, me, and Josh all lurched forward.

“Step away from that, kid!” I shouted.

“Don’t touch that!” bellowed Gordon.

“What are you doing?!” Josh shouted.

The point was set so that any train needing to pass this siding could.  But the boy grunted and turned the point, setting the switch to the siding.  This would allow Gordon to exit the siding back onto the mainline.  And that was a bad!  This meant any train coming through would derail from the track being set improperly.

“NO!” all three of us cried.

I darted forth and tossed the kid from the lever.  Considering I worked with steam engines for a good portion of my life, I was pretty muscular and toned.  And I could toss around guys bigger than me with ease.  The kid hit the ballast and obviously skinned his elbow.  But I wasn’t worried about that.  My concern was the switch.

Whatever train would be passing by, could very well be derailed!

Who cares about a little brat and his skinned elbow?  But the EM was furious.

“How dare you assault my baby!”

Baby?  That lard of a kid looked like he was 8 years old!

And Gordon was cross. (Because of course I had to put that there.)

“Baby?” he asked. “Your little piglet just very well might cause a terrible accident!”

There was vitriol dripping from his words.

“He’s only playing!” called the mother. “Let him play!  He’s not hurting anyone.  He’s a good boy.”

“Get that crotch goblin away from the switch!” Gordon bellowed out. “Wesley!”

Crotch Goblin.  God I love you, Gordon, I thought.

Wesley was our conductor.  And he was a bit of a pushover especially with how Gordon boxed the poor kid’s ears with that voice of his.  Wesley was kinda new to the job and most of the times he was regulated to excursion duties.  Rarely did he ever serve on the Express due to his inexperience.

I could see him fiddling with his whistle, trying to straighten his hat.  He was a mess.  All the while, I was jerking back and forth trying to get the switch unstuck and set back correctly.  These switches sometimes got stuck because of the heat.

“Y-yes, sir, Mr. Gresley,” said Wesley.

Just a little fact that many of y’all don’t know.  You think we’re the ones in charge here?  The show seems to make you think that, don’t it?  Nope.  The engines are.  Especially engines with seniority like Gordon.  And he made sure everyone on his team knew it.  And again, the kid’s a pushover.

“Go help Dana with the switch!” Gordon barked.

The boy was already bawling like it was the end of the world.  And entitled mother was leaning down to comfort him.  The noise was enough to attract the other passengers to the commotion.

“What happened?” asked Wesley.

“Kid pulled the lever,” said Josh.

“She assaulted my baby!” said the entitled mother.

“I should have you all fired!” the entitled dad shouted. “And that metal monstrosity scrapped.”

“I beg your pardon!” Gordon rounded. “Don’t spit indignation at me, sir! Your piglet has endangered lives.  Wesley, is there a train coming?”

“The Express, Mr. Gresley.”

“Damn…” Gordon seemed to deflate and the color left his cheeks at the sound of a familiar, high-pitched whistle. “Henry’s coming!  This is the Flying Kipper all over again.  Hurry!”

Oh, god...I heard the stories of Henry’s crash.  Of course I knew of it from the books, and from the show.  But the real story was much more gruesome.  Awdry may have said that his driver and fireman survived for the sake of the kids, but that was far from the truth.  They were dead, both of them.  The driver’s head was bashed into to Henry’s controls, thrown from his seat. Henry’s pipes were covered in his driver’s blood. The fireman died moments later, crushed ribs and internal bleeding from the impact.  And Henry was lucky to have survived at all to be rebuilt into a Stanier Black 5.  He was a changed “man” after that.  Much sterner than when he arrived on the island.

“Sir,” I shouted. “You’re about to force an engine who just lived through a horrible wreck involving a point set wrong to relive that nightmare again.  And endangering everyone he’s currently pulling in his coaches.  When this is over, I’m making sure Hatt kicks you and your family of pork rinds off the NWR.  Have fun takin’ the bus for now on!  Or walkin’.  Y’all look like you need a good exercise anyhoo.”

The bus on this island was terrible.  Just a little FYI.

Already, Wesley was radioing the conductor on the Express, hoping to get Henry to slow down before he derailed.  The whistle was even louder.

Josh and I were pulling the lever as hard as we could.  A creak, and at last the lever budged.  The point reset to allow Henry to pass through safely.  A final whistle and the green NWR #3 came speeding on passed Gordon with the Wild Nor’wester.  I collapsed upon my butt and gasped, sweat stinging my eyes.  Josh did the same, patting me on the back.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I will be,” I said.

The conductor still held onto the entitled father and entitled mother, and they held onto their sniveling kid.  While he was holding onto his elbow.

“Wesley,” I said, looking up at the conductor. “Escort those three to the brake coach and keep an eye on them.  The first station we’re stopping at, I want them off the train and in the station master’s office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “This way, please.”

“I should have your job!” the entitled father called.

“Get the first aid kit, and wipe the little porker’s booboo,” I said.  I slowly rose to my shaking feet. “I should leave y’all right here!  Have you hoof it to the next station.  Maybe if I’m lucky, y’all be arrested by our security guards for trespassin’ on railroad property!”

“Leave them here,” said Gordon. “Especially for that sodding ‘scrapped’ remark!”

I really didn’t give two shits about Gordon’s language here.

So many of Gordon’s brothers had been scrapped thanks to the modernization of the British Railways.  So, of course he would take that insult quite personally.  

“You hear that?” I continued. “Gordon wants to leave you stranded.  And I’m inclined to agree with him.  But I’m not petty like y’all are.”  I turned to him. “No.  Follow the rules, Gordon.  As much as we hate it.  Turn them into the station master and they’ll be banned from riding any of our coaches again.”

“I suppose that shall suffice,” he said.  It didn’t sit happy with him, though.  And it was understandable why he said that.  Gordon’s jaw was still tensed, set tightly.  I reached up and patted him on the running board and he seemed to unwind just a slight, his frame coming to a rest.

“Wankers,” he at last said to relieve any emotional steam still pinned up inside. “The lot of them.  Completely gobsmacked those types exist.”

“Yeah,” I said with a huff.

“You two finished taking the piss, or are we getting this bloody train a-moving?” Josh asked.

Gordon and I laughed.  That finally got the last kink in our collective spines untied.  I took a deep breath and rounded Gordon, only to climb in on the driver’s side.  We waited for Wesley to come back.  He no doubt already ordered the other crewmen to keep an eye on our entitled guests.  He maybe a pushover to us, but not to the passengers.  Especially the unruly ones.  He took out his pocket watch, glanced at it, and then dropped it back into his pocket.  He pulled out a radio, calling for the signal to switch the points.  The passengers were already on board.

A few of Gordon’s valves began to move just slightly.  The cock valves in his cylinders opened up with a hiss.  I pinched the brake lever and pushed it forward and Gordon clenched his friction brakes to compensate.  Then, the conductor whistled and signaled for the all clear.  Gordon steamed forwards slowly, relaxing the brakes.  As he pulled up, Wesley took hold of the railing and climbed into the cab.  

Gordon sounded his low whistle twice and he was off.

And if y’all are wondering about what happens to the points after the train passes them.  It is weight sensitive, and there’s a mechanism that puts the points back once the train clears it.  The conductor normally will see if the point had reset by the signal’s position.  And it did.  Only the lever got stuck, not the mechanism itself.

By the time the train pulled into the station, there were security guards waiting to escort the entitled family to the station master’s office for a stern talking to.  On the other platform was Henry with the Express, waiting to load his passengers.  I suppose he noticed the security guards escorting the still bickering entitled family, because he spoke up.

“Gordon, what the bloody hell happened?”

“You almost had another wreck, Henry,” Gordon replied. “No thanks to that family of pigs over there.”

“Eh?  What were they doing?”

“Messing with the points.”

“So that’s what my driver was acting all frantic about,” he said. “I thought the man was having a heart attack.”

“Nope, you nearly had a wreck like the one back in...what was it…‘36?”

“Was ‘35, actually.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Gordon said. “1935.  Bloody snowstorm.”

“I should know, I was out in it, unfortunately.  Then the Thin Clergyman decided to put my rebuild at 1951.  Don’t know why he’d did that.  That was getting close to the year Beeching was proposing his modernization plan.”

“Dreadful man.”

Gordon never liked Richard Beeching.  With good reason.

A whistle from the platform sounded and Henry got his signal to move on.

“See you back at the sheds, Gordon!” he said with a whistle, pulling out from the station.

I came walking out onto the platform, stopping right beside Gordon���s smoke box.

“I think I’m gonna go home, prop my feet up, get out a tub of chocolate ice cream and watch a stupid chick flick tonight,” then I turned to him. “Wanna join me?”

“Well, you did leave that tub of ice cream in the freezer back at the sheds,” he said. “What stupid chick flick do you want to watch?”

“How about Sex in the City?”

“Oh, that’s a ripe cabbage, isn’t it?” Gordon asked. “Brilliant.  We can both yell at the movie.”

“Hey, Josh, wanna join us?”

“Nah,” he said through the window. “Dinner night.  Brian’s cooking.”

“Have fun with that,” I said. “Hey, you make sure you share some leftovers.  You know how much I love Brian’s cooking.”

“And how much I love smelling it,” said Gordon. “I swear, if it kills me, I’ll figure out how to eat, someday.”

“I promise, Gordon,” began Josh. “I’m sure he’ll have some leftover wasted vegetable oil.  We’ll put it in the strainer and give it to you.”

“Good enough.”

Well, we all returned to our posts and continued the excursion.  

Movie night was fun too.  

The next day, we were back on Express duty.  Sir Topham Hatt came to tell us that family was banned from any excursions and any service on the railway.  Like I said, regulated to riding the bus for now on.  They were also severely fined.  Like severely, made to do some community service as well.

Funny note on that family, apparently, it wasn’t the first time that hog brat messed with the switches.  We stopped for a connection with the Skarloey Railway.  And in came Sir Handel with his passengers.  Word got around quick about the family.  And Handel knew all about it.

“They pulled that stunt with us here on the narrow gauge,” said Sir Handel. “The fat twat of a boy started messing with the points.  Rheneas saw what was happening, screeched to a halt as best as he could...and derailed.  No one was hurt, thank heavens.”

“Why the bloody hell was that family allowed to ride my excursion train, then?” Gordon asked. “If that boy pulled the same stunt as before?  And caused a wreck.”

I was out standing on the walkway between the narrow gauge track and the standard one, looking dumbfounded by what Sir Handel had said.

“The little piggy bolted away when he heard his mum calling him,” said Richard, Handel’s driver.

“Aye, greasy bugger, that one,” said Handel. “Before the security could catch up, I suppose he must’ve gotten on your train, Gordon.”

“What the actual fuck,” I said, shaking my head.

“But the security cameras caught him in the act,” said Richard. “I suppose after the second stint he caused, that was enough to ban the whole family.  He was also causing some mischief with the Smallies too.  Was trying to tip over poor Mike, calling him a toy.  Mum encouraged it too, saying ‘he’s only playing’.”

“Bloody strong, if he could attempt to tip over Mike,” said Handel. “Smallies may be small, but they are heavy.”

“Each of them weigh as much as a car,” I said.

“He could tip over your Mustang if given a chance,” said Gordon.

“Like I’d let him have it!”

Gordon chuckled.

“The Small Controller kicked the mother and her brat out,” said Handel. “Filed a report on it.  Then, they came here.  And started more trouble.”

“And then they came onto my train,” said Gordon. “Lovely, isn’t it?  We have a connection with the Arlesdale Railway.  Should let the Small Controller know we got the brat and his parents banned from all of the railway.”

“I’d say for that boy, he’s…” began Handel. “How do you American’s say it, Dana?  He rides the short bus, seems like?”

“That’s what we say, Sir Handel,” I nodded in agreement. “And his parents probably spoiled him rotten because of it.”

I took a glance back and noticed all the passengers were finally filing on board.  Turning around, I slowly trotted back toward Gordon’s cab.

“Thanks for the info!” I waved, hopping back in. “We’ll let Mr. Duncan know we had a visit from the Terror Piglet.”

Both Sir Handel and Gordon broke out into a chuckle at the name I gave the kid.

Sad fact of some parents with children that have developmental problems.  Sometimes, they just spoil them, let them do whatever they want.  Don’t bother to correct their behavior.  And this case was one of those.  I suppose my name for the kid seemed mean.  I should blame the parents more than the child for bringing him up like that.  But considering the havoc he raised, putting people and engines in danger, damaging railway property, little regard to what he was doing, and his parents encouraging the behavior, to relieve my stress, the “Terror Piglet” seemed to stick.  Judge me for my own behavior, but the kid nor his parents get no leeway with me.  I didn’t exactly have a perfect childhood either, but I did learn enough about real life not to act like a “twat” as they say over here.

Along the way, we managed to find that wretched family.  There they were, standing at a bus stop in the heat, sweating like the hogs they were.  The entitled brat looked up and started to bolt for the fence, ready to lunge himself over.  Which would be trespassing again.

I called out: “Hippity, hoppity! Stay off railway property!”

Gordon gave two short, very short, very poignant whistles as he blew on by them.  Being around Gordon for so long, I began to learn what certain whistles meant depending on how the engine sounded them.

Gordon basically flipped that family the bird in the only way an engine could.

Considering what that kid nearly made Henry do yesterday, and the horror that entailed, I didn’t correct him on it.  I only smiled.

And now, my mind turned to more important thoughts.  

Like Brian’s leftovers in the cooler.

[bvidzsoo]

Abiding Darkness (I)

 Author: bvidzsoo

 Warning: none yet

 Pairing: Oh Sehun x OC 

 Word count: 3, 888

 Summary:  Belikov Bora is living in Seoul at her grandparents as she had gotten her long awaited scholarship. She’s not new to this world but she’s also not really interested in the famous people of it…so maybe that’s why she gets the shock of her life when a zombie apocalypse begins and she’s stuck with Oh Sehun.

 A/N: First chapter is out after two years, huh. This is an idol AU just so you know, Oh Sehun is himself, and also EXO are all celebrities. The update schedule for this is: I will update once a week, on Wednesday’s so don’t ask for more frequent updates because it won’t happen. If you find this fic on AFF as well, that’s me, my user name is Arfina1 there. All these being said, happy reading and I hope you enjoy!

    There are some people who like taking risks, start new. Well, I am not one of those people, I just prefer laying in my warm bed, reading a book or just staying on social media, doing nothing. I know, I sound just like every other student my age, but despite being a lazy ass I worked my ass hard to achieve where I am now. Aka Seoul, South Korea. Yes, I’m an exchange student, but at the same time not really. You see, I’m half Korean and half Russian, what a combination, isn’t it?

Three months ago, I got my long awaited scholarship to one of the best universities and right now I’m living together with my grandparents, somewhere on the outskirts of Seoul. Even after three months of living here, I still don’t know the city too well and I even got lost last week when I accidentally got off at the wrong bus stop. It was already late, and no matter how safe people assume the streets are, I was still creeped out and had to call my poor, old, grandfather to come and pick me up. Well, he wasn’t too pleased, not that I blame him, it was almost eleven in the night.

“Bora, dress warmly, it’s going to be cold today” Were my grandmother’s first words in the morning when I entered the kitchen, already dressed. No ‘good morning’ or ‘how did you sleep’. Well yeah, my grandparents aren’t the warmest people but they have a good heart and when they heard I got my scholarship they were very happy to offer me a place to stay at. After all, I did visit them every summer, alone or with my parents.

“Okay, I will just grab something to eat” I muttered, half asleep as I slumped in my chair.

“Bora, back always straight” Grandma’s authoritative voice made me internally cringe but I ignored it and flashed her a smile.

“Right, sorry” I mumbled, while chewing some cereals I begged grandpa to buy for me yesterday since I was running out of.

“No mumbling, you are a lady” Grandma’s eyes looked like they were on fire as she narrowed them at me, “And never speak when you have food in your mouth”

I sighed, giving her a ‘really’ look as she continued to glare at me. She’s worse than my mom, and my mom isn’t the softest person either...you can imagine then my father, who’s also a commandant of the Russian Army. He’s a soft man, but only for me and my mother.

“Grandma, I’m leaving” I told her once I was on my feet and she nodded wordlessly, going to the window to look out. I was taking on my boots, secured the red scarf around my neck, as she came into the hallway, eyes watching me.

“Take an umbrella, it might rain” She mumbled and I almost scolded her for it, like she did to me a few minutes ago, would serve her right.

“They didn’t say anything about raining” I shrugged, placing my bag around my shoulders.

“You should listen to me, Bora” Grandma sighed and I flashed her a smile “Grandma knows best”

“Always” I grinned at her and she finally chuckled, for the first time this week.

“Take care” I waved at her cutely as she rolled her eyes and walked up to me.

“I’m supposed to tell you that--and what lady can’t even dress herself up?” I rolled my eyes as she adjusted the collar of my coat before re-doing my scarf.

“Take care” She patted my cheek with a warm smile and I nodded before leaving the warm house, taking off to the bus stop.

And that is how usually a morning of mine is, sometimes grandpa is home too, but most of the time it’s just the two of us in the mornings. Grandpa can never stay still, so he always goes out and finds something to do himself, sometimes he just helps around the neighbors...once he even offered to walk the dogs of a busy businessman and I remember sending mom pictures and how much she laughed at her own father. Even though things were going nicely and smoothly at home, my grandparent’s home actually, school was still stressing me out. My grades dropped a little this month and I’ve been working hard this week to try and bring them back up, because no way I’m going home so early. I’m supposed to stay for a whole year here, and barely three months passed.

There are people who ask me where I’d like to live, Russia or South Korea? My answer is...on a nice island in Greece, where I can have a peaceful life writing and reading. I seemed to be interested in books from a young age and started writing when I was around the age of ten. But my parents were never keen of the idea of me becoming a writer so that’s why we decided if I pursue Psychiatry, they will let me take writing classes in order to develop myself. I’m secretly hoping the book I’m writing now would be a breakthrough for a nice writer career and then I could leave my university and do whatever I always pleased to do. But life isn’t always fair, and unfortunately...some of our dreams stay as dreams.

Usually my brain feels drained after I leave classes and today it seemed like I was feeling just a little bit worse. My head decided to pound in the worst way and I had a slight nausea hitting me every ten minutes.

“Are you okay?” My friend asked concerned when I groaned for the nth time.

“Yeah, don’t worry” I flashed her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes like usually.

“No, you are not” She rolled her eyes and I just sighed, leaning my head against the cold surface of the bus window, “So then we aren’t getting Bubble Tea anymore…”

“What?” I yelped surprised “We are going there right now, if you still wish to…”

“I do, but you don’t look too well” She muttered, avoiding looking at me.

“I have been feeling like this all day, if I survived classes then I will survive a little stop at the Bubble Tea shop too” I shrugged and she just sighed, continuing to look at me worried.

“Fine, but you will let my brother give you a ride then” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, a determined look on her face.

“Your brother?” I asked surprised. I have never met her brother, I only know he’s a few years younger. She never tells me his name and is actually very secretive of him. Like, I don’t judge her but she could open up a little bit, we’ve been friends for a good two months now. Her name is Park Yoora and I only know her brother has huge ears, which she never fails to make fun of when we get drunk. Last time we got drunk she slipped a little information about her brother, making me quite curious about his life.

She said, “My brother is so busy lately, I haven’t seen him in two months. He’s my little brother and as a noona I should protect him all the time, but his company is over doing them this time”

Honestly, her words were quite confusing and I blamed it more on the alcohol that was making her say such things. Maybe he works at a big company? Something like IT? Who knows, since Yoora refuses to tell me. She’s two years older than me and is majoring in photography. We’ve went sunset hunting by the Han river too many times, I even missed my first classes because of her once.

“Yoora, stop worrying and just give me some medication” I rolled my eyes as we got off the bus and started walking on the busy streets of Seoul, to the Bubble Tea shop. It was a cozy place and we always visited this place since it seemed like Yoora’s brother likes it. When I asked Yoora why we can’t try and visit other places as well?

She said, “Because a good friend of my brother’s loves Bubble Tea and if he says this is the best place, then this is the best place. And we believe him”

“Why do you worship your brother and his friends so much?” I remember I asked her and she only shrugged and quickly changed the topic. Smart of her, she changes topics like it’s her hobby.

“Wait until we get inside, okay?” Yoora scoffed, bringing me back from my thoughts.

“Okay, fine” I sighed, following her inside the warm shop. It was a good feeling to finally be shielded from the cold and harsh wind that seemed to start out of nowhere.

“The usual?” Yoora’s eyebrows rose as she gazed at me and I briefly nodded before going to our usual seat, by the window.

Taking my seat, I took off my bag from my shoulders but decided to leave my coat on as my body started shivering. What a great day to get sick, couldn’t it have waited until the weekend at least? When I could stay in bed?

Yoora was quickly at our table, placing both drinks down when her phone started ringing. Her eyes went wide as she gazed at the caller.

“Chanyeol? Why are you calling? Aren’t you having repetitions?” I looked at her but didn’t register her voice well as my head suddenly got dizzy. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and focused on staying awake.

“Are you sure?” Her worried voice made me open my eyes and I gripped my warm cup of Bubble Mint Tea.

“Chanyeol, I have a friend with me and--” She abruptly stopped speaking as probably this Chanyeol guy interrupted her. Who is he? Perhaps a good friend? Boyfriend? She never said anything about him, maybe she really doesn’t trust me after two months of being friends.

“I’m coming, stop yelling into the phone!” Yoora exclaimed, her brows furrowed as she hang up.

“Bora, I’m really sorry but I have to go” She bit her lower lip and it seemed like guilt crossed her features “You should go home, quickly, okay?”

“Why?” I asked worried as she placed some medicine in my palm.

“Listen to me and just go home. Don’t wait for the bus, call a cab” She patted my shoulder and I have never seen her this worried before. She took her cup and rushed outside as a blue Audi R7 pulled up on the sidewalk. Through the window, I watched her get inside the car as it speed down the street, definitely going over the legal speed.

Sighing, I quickly gulped down the medication with my Bubble Tea and gazed out the window. My eyebrows furrowed as the sky seemed to darken out of nowhere. Grandma was right, I should have taken an umbrella with myself. As I contemplated on listening to Yoora or staying for a little longer, a mother with her little daughter passed by my window. The girl’s long hair was in two pigtails as she was clutching a dark blue dressed doll. Her mother was in a hurry as she pulled her after herself and the girl made eye contact with me as she was being dragged. I flashed her a small smile and she seemed to return it before she disappeared from the window. I sighed and stood up, Yoora’s worried expression flooding my mind. I have never seen her this serious and worried before, and she’s someone that likes to worry about something little and insignificant.

As I took my bag off the chair and flung it on my shoulders, there was a loud thunder outside, making me jump. Oh God, why didn’t I listen to my grandmother this morning? But my eyes furrowed when there was a loud sound in the distance and it seemed to only get louder. It was as if something was exploding. People got curious and started getting closer to the windows but my eyes widened when I spotted the cracks forming in the earth outside and as I opened my mouth to tell them to back away from the windows, it was already too late. The loud sound was just outside our window, something green exploded from the ground and people screamed as the glass shattered, sending shards everywhere. I yelped as I felt a few pierce my skin. What was happening? Was it the gas conducts? Why green then? The mist shouldn’t be green, there is something definitely very wrong here.

I gulped hard, thinking about my grandparents. Poor people, they are probably as scared as I am right now, my heart is beating like crazy. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but then something else happened. The earth felt like it was shaking, from a light shake it turned into a more violent one and I took in a sharp breath of air as the cups started falling from the shelves, shattering against the floor.

“Take shelter everyone!” The girl from the counter shouted loudly as the ground shook violently. I realized this is an earthquake, this is no joke, it’s actually happening. I tried to steady my breathing while I looked around to take shelter somewhere. They always tell you to hide underneath tables so I did that, quickly ran underneath a table, curling up as I started praying, hoping that all this would stop and I would get out of this unscratched. I wish for it to be like that, but my positiveness knows there’s no way I won’t end up unscratched. There was a loud scream coming from beside me and the moment I looked up I realized the ceiling started to fall piece by piece and the last thing I remember is the panic that enveloped me, eyes wide before everything went black.

My whole body felt stiff, one leg numb and my head was thumping violently. With difficulty, I managed to stand up, body seeming to shake a little. I touched my forehead and the red liquid stuck to my finger made me feel dizzy as my legs seemed to get jelly. I quickly gripped what seemed to be a chair. I looked around and almost choked as the bodies around me lay stuck underneath something or simply unconscious. I had to close my eyes for a second and compose myself. I took a deep breath and quickly left the once Bubble Tea shop I so dearly started to like, thanks to Yoora. Yoora, where is she now? Is she okay? What about my grandparents? I need to get to them this instant!

My head still felt light as I stepped through the, now, shattered window. It felt like I was limping as my right thigh ached a little bit, but it might be because of the numbness I felt a few seconds ago. The sky was grey and it seemed as if dust was in the atmosphere, small pieces of ash floating. My eyebrows furrowed as I took in the once busy street of Seoul. Glass, it was everywhere. Everything was covered in shattered glass, cars thrown upside down, lampposts on the ground. It looked horrible, I was afraid to look at the ground, fearing I’d find humans, like inside the Bubble Tea shop. My heart shattered a little bit when the smiling little girl entered my mind, is she still alive? Oh God, what just happened!

I started walking down the road, aimlessly as it was still hard to understand all the things happening. It was too much, my brain couldn’t process everything right now. The worry was eating me alive and for a minute I stopped and took my phone from my pocket, almost surprised that it wasn’t completely shattered. I opened it, but there was no line, I couldn’t call anyone. My throat seemed to gulp down nothing as my mouth went dry, I didn’t even call my parents today. Tears started to form in my eyes when I realized mom would see this in the TV and call dad crying, thinking their only girl must have died. I’m not a strong person, I never watched those movies which portray the end of the world, zombies or aliens that invade Earth, I have no idea what to do.

Distressed, I wiped a tear off my cheek and roughly placed my phone back in my coat pocket. Why do we have phones if in situations like this they are useless!

It wasn’t as cold as before, it seemed like the earth was emitting some sort of warmness, it felt strange. I looked at the ground and it seemed like some light green mist was emitting from the big cracks, something that seemed to stink as I passed a bigger hole, I had to cover my nose. It smelled horrible.

I continued walking down the street, wondering why there was no one besides me. Did they all die? This is too cliche, I can’t be the only one who survived this whole incident. My breathing started getting faster at the idea of being alone in all of this, which I have no idea what it is yet, and my throat seemed to close up on me once again. But the little panic all broke when someone groaned, loudly, underneath a turned car. My eyebrows furrowed as I became completely quiet, even my thoughts, and listened closely. The groan came once again and my eyes widened when I saw the person’s legs twitch.

“Hello?” I called out hopefully, voice trembling. I’m not alone!

“Hello?” I called again when the person didn’t answer me.

“Help” His voice was faint, quite husky. My eyes widened as I rushed towards him, crouching down at his legs.

“I can’t get out, my right thigh is stuck” He huffed, voice steadier than mine and I bit my lip nervously.

“Sir, I--” I chewed on my lips, trying to find a way to lift the car, but I’m a woman, I don’t have the power of a man, “I don’t know how, it’s--the car is too heavy--”

“Not the whole car, just this side, if you could lift it even a little bit...” He hissed as he seemed to pull his left leg more underneath the car.

“Wait a little” I muttered, eyebrows furrowed as I looked around, desperately looking for something to help the man out. Chewing on my bottom lip, my eyes landed on a bigger piece of lamppost that was broken. I quickly rushed towards it.

“Wait, don’t leave me!” The man called out, fear lacing his voice.

“I’m not!” I quickly called out, knowing that he was as scared as I was, “I found something to help you with, hold on for a few minutes”

“Okay--thank you” His raspy voice was breathy and I only nodded, dragging the long stick beside the car. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to find a place where I could place it so that I can lift the car a little bit. Finding the spot underneath the back seat most convenient, I slided it carefully but with difficulty underneath it.

“Okay, I’m going to try and lift it with this stick but I’m really not sure if I can do it. It’s heavy and--”

“Stop ranting and just do it” The man hissed irritated “I’m starting to not feel my leg”

I gasped sharply and furrowed my eyebrows, gripping the stick hard.

“Okay, one..two...three--” I huffed as I pushed with all my strength on the stick but it barely lifted the car. The man hissed as he struggled to pull himself out.

“A little harder, just push it harder!” He called out as I saw the crown of his black head.

“I can’t” I yelped when the stick almost slipped from my hands. Gathering all my force, I quickly sat on the stick and the car made a loud screeching sound and suddenly the man grunted, shimming out from underneath the car. He was breathing hard as he closed his eyes, sprawled out on the dirty ground, his once neat clothes now covered in dirt and ash. I took a deep breath, standing up from the stick and walked around the car.

“Are you okay, sir?” I asked, concern lacing my voice. He hummed, eyes still closed as he steadied his breaths slowly.

“Thank you again” He muttered and I nodded silently, gazing at his slightly familiar face. Where have I seen him before? University maybe?

“Here” I offered my hand to him when he opened his eyes and for a second he hesitated before his calloused hands firmly gripped mine and he rose to his feet.

“And you are welcome” I muttered, pulling my hand away the second he stood on his own legs. But he stumbled and I quickly gripped his arms, steadying him.

“My leg is numb, it’ll go away soon” He muttered as he gripped my arms back, looking around. He was quite tall, I reached his nose with my forehead. His eyes were sharp and really dark, skin white and smooth looking. His lips were a light red, slightly puckering and plump. His nose was pointy and sharp, just like his jaw. He looked almost perfect, if not for the cut on his right cheek. He was extremely handsome and my eyebrows once again furrowed as I realized I have seen him somewhere before, and not just once.

“It’s fine now” He muttered as he abruptly let go of me and I wordlessly nodded. His eyes seemed to fall on me for the first time and I tried to offer him a friendly smile but failed, knowing my eyes were showing fear. His face looked blank, even his eyes held nothing as he continued looking at me.

“Are you a foreigner?” He suddenly asked and I jumped a little bit, the silence around us was deafening.

“Not really” I muttered, consciously glancing down at my ginger hair that hang around my shoulders.

“Are you or are you not?” He asked more firmly, voice demanding. I gulped as I suddenly realized why I know this man. He’s from EXO, one of the most famous kpop bands. Their music is amazingly good and the records they break are also mind blowing. I never took my time in these three months to get deeper into the Korean music, but not knowing about EXO probably would have been a shame. For a reason, I decided to stay silent about it. Lie to him, the distress and sudden fear in his eyes made me feel bad. I’m not a crazy fan if that’s what he’s thinking right now.

“I am, yes, I am a foreigner” I said firmly, surprised how steady I sounded when all I wanted to do was break down and just worry about everything.

“Oh Sehun” He extended his hand, his expression seemingly more peaceful.

“Belikov Bora” I answered while shaking his hand, for a reason suddenly nervous. Was it necessary for an earthquake and for the earth to crack for me to meet someone famous...like Oh Sehun?

~Next part~

[enigmaphenomenon]

Jack pre-Borderlands 1 Speculation/Jack analysis

STRAP IN, KIDDOS! THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE! REALLY LONG.

(Will be tagged long post for any mobile users)

I’ll be drawing my speculation from evidence presented in Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel, Borderlands 2, and Tales from The Borderlands. Keep in mind this is just speculation. 

Who was the man before the monster?

I’m talking about Pre-Borderlands 1 because while The Pre-Sequel shows a more sympathetic side of Jack than the villain in BL2 and TFTBL. Jack had already enslaved Angel by the time of Borderlands 1 and The Pre-Sequel, so this simple fact is something people haven’t ignored/can’t ignore when thinking about Jack in a non-villain light. 

The first thing we’ll look at is the photo of Angel Jack keeps on his desk, even when he’s the CEO of Hyperion, even in TFTBL the framed photo remains on his desk. 

She appears to be a very happy little girl, even throwing the peace sign. No tattoos are visible so this could be one of two things. The artist forgot to draw them, or her Siren powers had not yet been acquired/awakened. Or whatever, I don’t know how Siren powers work.

The Last of Us is made by an entirely different company but I want to compare this photo of Angel to the photo of Joel’s daughter. 

Wide eyes, open smile that shows teeth, and throwing the peace sign, the same as Angel’s photo. 

This seems to be a go-to pose for conveying happiness in photos. Angel was at one point a very happy little girl, this photo showing Angel’s happiness is something Jack always keeps on his desk even when he becomes the villain. 

Now let’s talk about Jack’s romantic life. 

We know that Jack had a wife who he had a daughter with, and so what sort of husband was Jack during this time?

Well, we have none other than Moxxi to turn to for answers. 

When Jack dated Moxxi he had already lost his first wife and Angel was in containment, but what does Moxxi have to say about her relationship with Jack? 

Moxxi says that Jack was a real charmer, he was always opening doors for her, telling her she was beautiful and would shoot anyone in the face for looking at her sideways. She then says he got clingy and that’s when she broke it off with him. 

I don’t know what Moxxi’s definition of clingy is, but just imagine that if Jack was a gentleman to Moxxi imagine how he must have treated his first wife! 

In Borderlands 2 when Moxxi destroys Jack’s Construction Site and he exclaims: “Moxxi, you BITCH!”

She laughs and says she hasn’t seen him that angry since they broke up. Yet despite that, Jack trusted Moxxi enough with his life post-breakup. When she takes part in the betrayal in the pre-sequel he is shocked and emphasizes that he trusted Moxxi. 

Even with Moxxi’s betrayal, Jack doesn’t seem to carry the same amount of hatred he does for Roland and Lilith. Which you would think Moxxi’s betrayal would fill him with more rage than Roland and Lilith’s. 

Which circles me back to Jack’s first wife. Some think that Jack murdered her and blamed it on Angel, and that he’s lying about Angel’s part in whatever happened to his first wife. 

I honestly don’t think he did anything to his wife and blamed Angel for it.

Jack doesn’t kill his grandmother until he becomes Handsome Jack, even though that woman was horribly abusive to him. Jack doesn’t kill Moxxi despite her betrayal, Jack is incapable of NOT bragging about himself, and even with Angel turning against him he doesn’t kill her, but he begs for her life and says he’ll forgive her for helping the Vault Hunters. 

Based on all of this, I would say that Jack was a genuinely loving husband and father. At some point. 

Angel looks so happy in the photo, and Moxxi’s description of her time with Jack paints him as an affectionate man. 

As an added note, Jack has had multiple female lovers, but only fathered one child with his first wife. Jack had a second wife who he didn’t have a child with (that we know of anyway) Moxxi has been married 3 times and has children but never married Jack nor had a child by him, and of course, there’s Nisha who he never married nor had a child with. 

So, imagine Jack, finding a woman he proposes too...she says yes. A WEDDING!!! Imagine her breaking the news to him that she’s pregnant and he’ll be a father. Imagine him and his wife deciding on names for their first child together. (He named his diamond pony Butt-Stallion after “racking his brain” for a name, I’m sure the naming process was hilarious. Until “Angel” was finally decided on.)

 Imagine him learning he will have a daughter. Imagine him while his wife is in labor. 

There is no reason to assume he was not a loving and doting husband. And since Moxxi called him “clingy” I can easily imagine Jack being a control freak while his wife was pregnant. 

“No, let me get that, honey!” for any little task, probably having her feel a little smothered and say she��s pregnant, not incapable, and for Jack to calm down a little bit. 

Imagine Jack going out of his way to get whatever food she’s craving and being there to support her during whatever morning sickness she experiences.

Imagine Jack holding his baby girl in his arms for the very first time, or being spit-up on for the first time, attempting to change a diaper for the first time. 

Based on Moxxi’s words and the photo of Angel on his desk, there’s no reason to assume Jack wasn’t a kind and caring father and husband. 

He found a woman he loved and had a child with her, finally had a family of his own. He escaped his abusive past and most likely vowed to be a better parent to Angel than his grandmother was to him.

Again, bringing up a situation in a different game (might be a bad example to bring up a different game and company to illustrate my point but maybe it will help paint a clearer picture?) 

Morrigan in Dragon Age has a son, and Morrigan’s mother Flemeth raised Morrigan in an abusive way and refuses to let Flemeth take her son away. Morrigan says: “I am many things, but I will not be the mother that you were to me.” 

I don’t know what age Angel is in the photo nor the age she killed her mother at, but in Jack’s ECHO logs in BL2 there is one where he is introducing Angel to her “new home” (the containment thing) and she sounds like a young girl. So maybe it happened shortly after the picture on his desk was taken. 

Another thing about Jack is his reluctance to talk about his wife and child, indicating it is a very sore subject and cuts a little too close to the bone. 

In the Pre-Sequel before his descent into madness, Nakayama is creating the Jack AI and the player character asks Jack some questions. 

One of the questions is for Jack to describe his childhood. He can casually and in a flippant tone speak about the abuse he suffered as a child. 

He says he spent most of his time coding or getting smacked around, and that he had a pet cat that his grandma drowned when he didn’t make his bed. He then says “Usual stuff” 

Some kids get spanked, others get a time-out, Jack got the Buzz Axe. 

But when asked if he has a family such as a wife or children, he responds: “Next question!” 

It is a great contrast compared to how he answers when asked about his childhood. He’s tight-lipped about his family, he won’t answer it at all. 

Another ECHO log from BL2 shows that even his second wife is a touchy subject as he strangles a man to death for bringing up his wife. 

Now let’s get back on topic, Jack’s life before his daughter had Siren powers and before his wife died. 

In BL2 there is an ECHO log of Jack putting Angel in containment. She sounds scared and asks him where her mother is, Jack has growing impatience and tells her that he already told her, “She’s not coming back.” 

Judging by the photo he keeps of her, some of his dialogue with her in the pre-sequel such as “Thanks, baby. Love ya!” and his dialogue during her death; as well as his interaction with Rhys in TFTBL it is very clear Jack loves Angel dearly. When Rhys inquires about the picture Jack gets a little awkward before saying that’s “My Angel” and that he doesn’t usually like people knowing about her, but figures it’s ok since he and Rhys are close. He also says he’d like to check up on her “if that’s cool.”  

There’s no doubt in my mind that Jack loves Angel, and also no doubt that he never intended to do the horrible things he did to her. (Look at what he’s done to her and some of the things he’s said to her. Look at what he put her through. All the abuse she suffered at his hands.) Even if Jack never meant to hurt his daughter, he still did, he became an abuser just like his grandmother. 

But we still have a lot to talk about and a lot to look at. 

Jack finally had a family of his own and it was ripped away by his own daughter, who was just a little girl. 

Jack mentions in both BL2 and TFTBL that Angel did something to her mother and it was after this he locked her up, kept her hidden from the world. He brings up that the Vault Hunter didn’t see what Angel did to her mother and uses this as his reason for locking her up. 

He doesn’t seem to have any anger towards Angel after saying that she betrayed him, even saying that she didn’t have a choice. He also doesn’t say the vault hunters killed Angel, but that she killed herself. Which is true, Angel did want to die, she urges the Vault Hunter to end her life. 

Jack also refused to shut down the Containment Core Angel at the behest of his second wife and co-workers. A malfunction led to dozens of staff being lost, yet he still refused. His refusal to do so led to his second wife to leave him. 

Angel also seems unaware of what happened to her mother, indicating that Jack never told her what she did, or even telling her that she’s dead, only saying that she’s not coming back in the ECHO log. 

It’s possible that Angel believes her father killed her mother. And maybe, he just lets her believe that so she doesn’t have to carry the guilt of it?

There’s no doubt some resentment in Jack’s heart for Angel for killing his wife. It’s something he carries with him, maybe it’s that resentment that allows him to do what he does to Angel. 

Another example of this is presented in Life is Strange and it’s spinoff game Captain Spirit. 

In Life is Strange, Chloe’s father is dead. He died in a car accident and Chloe says that her mother blames herself for it, because she needed a ride home. If Joyce had never called him to pick her up, he never would have taken the car that day, and thus, would never have gotten into the accident that killed him.

Chloe then admits that sometimes she even blames her mother. Even though Chloe knows it isn’t really Joyce’s fault, the blame and resentment are still there, even though Chloe loves her mother dearly. 

In Captain Spirit, Chris is a 10-year-old boy whose mother died in a hit and run accident. Chris’ father while drunk says that if it weren’t for Chris, “she never would’ve taken the car that day.” After realizing what he just said, recoils and says he didn’t mean it, only for Chris’ to scream that he did mean it. 

It may be the same case for Jack and Angel. He loves Angel, but if it weren’t for her, his wife would still be alive. Maybe it’s not something he voices, we don’t know if he ever told Angel, but it is definitely something he would feel. 

Even if he knows that Angel was just a little girl who couldn’t control her powers and that it isn’t her fault, there is that part of Jack that feels like it is. The feeling can’t be stopped from being felt. He can reason with logic and tell himself she was just a little girl and an unfortunate accident happened, but none of that will stop the emotion from being felt. 

He brings Angel’s containment up to the Vault Hunter and says “You didn’t see what she did to her mother.” 

We don’t actually know what happened, we don’t know if Jack was there when it happened, or if he discovered her body later. We also don’t know if Angel suppressed the memory due to the trauma, or if using her power had made her lose consciousness thus never knowing what she had done. 

Jack’s containment of her served as a way to protect her and others most likely, and perhaps part of it may have served,  on a subconscious level, as a punishment for Angel. 

I believe the picture Jack keeps of Angel on his desk is not one of her current self, is because the picture is frozen time. He can look at it and remember a happier time, remember a time before she was a Siren, remember when his little girl was happy and cheerful and when his wife was still alive. 

In Life Is Strange, Chloe’s mother, Joyce, gives Chloe’s best friend a picture taken on the day of Chloe’s dad’s death right before he walked out the door and never came back. Joyce says that it’s the last time she saw her baby happy and vibrant, everything she isn’t now. 

This could be the same thing for Jack and why he keeps that particular picture of Angel. 

In the Pre-Sequel, near the end of the game, the picture on Jack’s desk is facedown which is a cool little detail.

But why is the photo facedown? Some say because he doesn’t want Nisha to know he has a daughter, other say it’s because of shame and is symbolic of Jack not wanting her to see what he is becoming. 

I think it has to do with betrayal. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment in the game where the photo is placed face down (if anyone could find out for me that’d be great) but it seems to be face down after Jack is betrayed by Moxxi, Roland, and Lilith. 

After the betrayal took place, maybe Jack couldn’t handle looking at the picture of Angel. I don’t know exactly what reason he had to place the photo face down. 

We see how distraught he is at Moxxi’s betrayal and he’s turned into a jaded, cold-blooded killer. 

Maybe he really didn’t want his daughter to see him that way, maybe the betrayal caused old wounds to re-open, such as the death of his wife at Angel’s hands so he can’t bear to look at her. 

Maybe it’s Jack acknowledging that the man he was and the life he used to have is completely gone, so he places his reminder of it face down. 

Maybe the sight of Angel’s happy smiling face grounds him and brings him back to reality, but Jack doesn’t want to be grounded right now. Maybe he wants to lose himself in the madness. 

Maybe being called a power-hungry psychopath by someone he trusted (who also tried to kill him) struck a nerve and he put the photo of Angel face down as an apology for enslaving her. Maybe he felt guilty?

Maybe he put the photo face down because he imagined what his wife must have felt like when Angel killed her, or maybe Jack feels he betrayed Angel’s trust by locking her up? Or maybe it’s because he feels betrayed? 

Maybe the fact that both Lilith and Angel are Sirens made him generalize all Sirens (similar to what he does with bandits and vault hunters) 

I really can’t say why he put the photo face down, it could be a number of reasons. It’s a detail that can be easily missed, but it is there for a reason. It’s a subtle and intricate detail showing Jack’s mindset. 

There’s always that possibility that it’s symbolic of “no going back” from the path he has chosen. 

I’ll compare it to Joel’s photo from The Last of Us. Initially, Joel refuses to accept this photograph. Later on, the photo is presented to him again by Ellie where he finally accepts it. He takes a deep breath and says; “Well I guess no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape your past” 

Obviously, Joel and Handsome Jack are completely different characters from completely different games, but hey...I need comparisons here to help paint this picture.

Joel is a character with very little moral boundaries left to cross. He’s a hardened survivor who lost his daughter in the first days of the outbreak and remembering how things used to be vs how they are now was painful. 

There’s also the case of Chloe from Life Is Strange. In the prequel Before The Storm, she sees her father’s car in the junkyard mangled and distorted. She breaks down and writes this in her journal: 

My dead dad's fucking car. The twisted, shattered, ugly reminder of what used to be my life.

I would put my money on Jack’s reasoning being similar to the above. That happy picture of Angel, that reminder of what his life used to be with a wife and daughter vs what it is now. Betrayal at the hands of people he trusted with his life. Just, all the betrayal he suffered even from an early age by his mother and grandmother.

In TFTBL we get a moment where Jack reflects on his life, stating that everyone he cared about ended up betraying him. But, maybe he deserved it. 

Just to add, Jack is from the planet Tantalus. Why is that relevant? Well for those of you who don’t know, Tantalus is a Greek mythological figure famous for his eternal punishment.  

 He was made to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree with low branches, with the fruit ever eluding his grasp, and the water always receding before he could take a drink.

We can look at Jack’s life:

Jack’s father died and his mother abandoned him with his grandmother who smacked him around with a freaking Buzz Axe and drowned his cat because he didn’t make his bed one time. 

Jack gets a family of his own with a beautiful wife and a beautiful baby girl named Angel and lived a seemingly happy life. (We only have context clues to go on we don’t actually know.) 

 His daughter turns out to be a Siren and kills his wife on accident. Angel can’t control her powers so he locks her away to keep her hidden from the world.

His daughter turns out to be really good with technology proving to be a great ally and aids him in his ambition. 

He gets the Eye of the Destroyer integrated into Helios only for his ex-girlfriend he trusted with his life and Lilith and Roland to betray him and try to kill him. Lilith and Moxxi happy and gleeful about it. 

He gets a vault relic punched into his face that permanently scars him.

He loses his daughter even before she dies. She turns against him and helps the people he hates foil his plan by causing her death. Angel just wanted it all to end, saying that Jack ended her life long ago, as far as Angel is concerned she’s already dead. 

He does manage to awake The Warrior and accomplish his ambition but The Warrior is defeated, thus stopping his goal in its tracks. 

He gets Helios back but Rhys crashes all of it into Pandora, so now that’s gone. 

In the end, Jack lost it all. Rhys says as much in TFTBL:

But the tragedy and interesting part about Jack... he seems to be aware of all this in TFTBL, making my previous thought of him turning Angel’s picture face down because it’s a reminder of what his life used to be, and there’s no going back. From that moment, Jack just snowballs into the villain we know now. 

More conversations with Rhys let us poke around in Jack’s mind a bit more. When he brings up how many people were on Helios, and asks Rhys what makes him think he’s the good guy in this scenario, Rhys responses and Jack’s reactions to them reveal a little more about our black-hearted villain. 

After talking about all the lives on Helios, and how many co-workers Rhys ejected out an airlock, stopping at nothing to take Jack down. 

And Jack’s response to Rhys saying “I guess I’ll have to live with that.” lacks “Whatever helps you sleep at night” 

How many times Jack has told himself he has to live with something horrible he’s done? Or how many times he told himself he did what he had to? What exactly went through Jack’s head as Angel grew up, or as he began spiraling down into the villain we know?

Some things to keep in mind from the Pre-Sequel, while he already had Angel enslaved, we see he still has some humanity in him. 

He was going to let the Meriff live, he wasn’t even going to retaliate against him for the betrayal. 

Only for Jack to turn his back and the Meriff tries to shoot him. 

Jack admits he doesn’t like killing after Felicity says she didn’t like killing the Scavs, and Jack does consider copying Felicity until finding out the copy would take too long and a shitload of lives would be lost. Then there are the scientists he airlocks that made Lilith get pretty butthurt, butthurt enough that she’d take out an entire space station with innocent people just to kill Jack, as well as the vault hunter you’re playing as whose just there on a job. 

Anyway...Jack’s dialogue to the scientists he brings up being shot in the back. 

Then again at the very end of the game, Jack mentions being shot in the back again when the player character brings up just avoiding the enemies and running straight to the vault. 

We see first hand in the pre-sequel exactly how Jack falls into villainy and it’s clear the Meriff’s betrayal acted as a catalyst to his ruthless behavior, with Moxxi, Lilith, and Roland’s betrayal breaking him on top of everything he already experienced. 

Though Handsome Jack is gone and most likely won’t be returning for BL3, and even if he somehow did, there’s no chance for redemption. Jack is too far gone to be brought back to the light. As I said before, there is no return from the path he has chosen. 

Jack’s tale is a sad and tragic one. I do believe that he had good intentions, that he had pure motives, but he was blinded by rage and betrayal that he lost sight of what actually mattered, and didn’t realize the harm he was doing to the people he loved. Of course, Jack is not excused from the horrible things he has done but, it’s easy to see why he was filled with such bitterness and hate. 

I would like to see Jack’s life before Angel got her powers. I’d like to see exactly what type of life he had, what type of husband and father he was. 

This is long enough and I have so much more to say, but I’m going to end it here. 

Jack, Butt Stallion says “Hello” 

[love-with-you-i-have-everything]

we’ll give the world to you, and you’ll blow us all away

This is a tiny bit of Captain Cobra fic that will become canon to me if we don't get any interaction between Henry and real-Hook by the end of the season! Thanks to @happilyswanjones for reading this over for me!

You can find it on Ao3 here. Enjoy!

He found the horizon calming. He didn’t really know why, whether it was instinctual or thanks to too much time spent with Killian. But sitting on the bow of the Jolly Roger, legs hanging over the side, Henry felt at peace, despite the storm of issues he was inevitably about to face in the coming weeks.

Over the last eight years, he’d stumbled upon heaps of positives of having two mums. Regina’s place was perfect if he needed an escape from Emma and Killian’s love-sick teenager routine. It worked vice versa too, and whenever Regina was in one of her standard bad moods, he always had somewhere else to run to.

Having to share potentially earth-shattering news twice was not one of those positives.

No one was going to understand. Or maybe they would, but they wouldn’t like it. There’d been so much talk of college, of heading off to New York City, or Boston to write for publishers and papers. And Henry knew that both his mothers, even Killian had been putting money aside for it.

It’s not like he wasn’t grateful; he knew how desperate people were to get places in colleges, to have the funds to do so. He knew he was lucky.

But it wasn’t what he wanted. Not really. In theory it sounded great, but in its actuality, it didn’t seem like enough.

Maybe it was Violet breaking up with him a year ago, heading back to her home in the Enchanted Forest that brought it on, but either way, college didn’t seem like the right fit anymore.

He heard the footsteps before he saw who they belonged to. Not that he needed to check. Henry had heard them way too many times marching up the corridor, always followed by a voice telling him to get out of bed on early mornings, asking if he wanted to go sailing.

“Something on your mind, lad?” Killian asked, hovering behind him as if waiting for an invitation to sit. Henry let out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, finally looking over his shoulder to meet the tilted head of his stepfather, eyes deep with concern. Henry moved over slightly, making room for the man to sit beside him.

“Because,” Killian started, moving to take the offered seat, “when I was a lad, a brand-new lieutenant on this very vessel,” he let out a breath as he sunk onto the raised edge, shuffling to get comfortable, “I used to sit in this very spot and think.”

Henry snorted, now keeping his eyes locked on something in the distance.

“Also, because I got a worried phone call from your mother saying you very efficiently fled the house as soon as she asked you about college applications.”

He shrugged again, not game enough to comment in fear of spilling out the truth. Killian cleared his throat at the silence, taking his eyes off Henry and onto the horizon. They sat for a moment in silence before Killian spoke again, this time softer.

“Look, lad. If the last few years of parenting,” he stumbled over that word, and Henry laughed in his head at Killian’s constant hesitancy to call himself a parent; it was clear to everyone how far their relationship had come, “has taught me anything, it’s that there’s no point pushing you if you don’t want to talk. So I’m happy to sit here in silence as long as you like.”

Looking across at him now, Henry studied the man sitting next to him. Only a few years ago, Henry would have shied away, not willing to talk to his moms about things like this, let alone Emma’s pirate boyfriend. But somewhere along the line, he’d become more than that. Maybe it was the sailing trips, the family dinners or movie nights, or even the little moments, like when Killian tried his first Pop Tart.

(He’d claimed to hate it, but Henry had noticed the supply depleting at a faster rate after that day.)

So, at some point, Killian had become family. Not that he hadn’t been before, or even that he legally was after the wedding. No. He had become family to Henry .

He could remember, way back in the time of the Missing Year, when his mum would date guys. None of them cared about him, they’d tolerated him at best. Walsh was marginally better. But Killian was the first guy who really seemed to care about Henry as his own person, not just an extension of his mother. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why that meant so much to him.

But it did.

Henry let out a sigh, and before he could think, the words poured out of his mouth.

“I don’t want to go to college.” There is was. The cat was out of the bag. It was a relief in a way, like the pressure had been building and had finally been let out. Much to Killian’s credit, he didn’t react. “Don’t look so surprised,” Henry continued sarcastically.

Killian hesitantly reached an arm around Henry’s shoulders, “I will admit, lad, I did see this coming.”

Letting out a breath, Henry became very interested in the wood beneath him, running a nail through a grain in the red paint, “Does that mean my moms know too?” he asked, hoping he was wrong.

“Your mothers may know a lot about magic and the like, but I think you’ll find they can be a bit blind sometimes.” Henry let out a snort, “Especially when they’re both so excited for you at the moment.”

Henry felt his stomach drop with guilt. He was graduating near the top of his class, and he hadn’t stopped hearing about it. First it was his grandma, then she had told Emma, who had told Regina. And he was proud of himself, really. But all the fanfare and celebration had just made him feel worse about everything.

Killian seemed to catch onto his mood and quickly tried to cover up his mistake, “Not that that means they’re not going to understand how you’re feeling, lad.”

“Yeah. Right.” Henry replied shortly, hoisting himself up and moving towards the main mast. He didn’t look back, but could hear Killian follow him. He tried to be annoyed, but he couldn’t find it in him.

Everyone knew Killian didn’t give up on the people he loved.

The ropes that wrapped around the mast were complicated and interwoven with one another, twisting up the wood towards the rigging above them. He’d spent many days sitting on the deck between Killian and his mum, or even his grandpa, tying knots and untying them, just enjoying rare days of warm Maine weather. He was going to miss days like that.

“You know,” Killian began, voice cutting through the short silence, “when your father was on this ship he battled with questions similar to yours. What am I going to do with my future? What’s the right path? I doubt he would have imagined the story his life played out, but I also doubt he would have traded it for anything.”

Henry rolled his eyes at the pirate’s words, “What are you trying to say here, Killian?”

He felt a pressure on his shoulders and finally turned to face Killian. His eyes were full of sincerity, not the playful glimmer that usually lived in them. It was the look they got when Emma came home from the station, stressed and cursing the dwarfish population of the town.

“What I’m saying, Henry, is that you might not know what the ‘right’ thing to do is right now, but your story will find you.”

Sighing dramatically, he broke away from his stepfather and walked to look over the edge of the ship, “That’s what I’m saying, Killian.” he exclaimed, voice rising, “I need to find my story. And I don’t think it’s here in Storybrooke or at college...”

Killian interrupted, “Well, I know Belle always talked of travelling the world, maybe some of her things could give you some ideas, and I’m sure your mothers would be happy to let you…”

“Will you let me finish?” Henry said, throwing his arms up by his side, turning back to face Killian, who smartly shut his mouth and gestured for him to continue. “I don’t think it’s in this realm either.”

Silence settled over the pair for a good minute before Killian spoke again.

“I see.”

They held each other’s stare, and Henry could see the gears ticking away in Killian’s head. While he hadn’t counted on telling him everything like this, he had hoped of all people, Killian would be the most open to the idea. But his hesitancy was reason to doubt.

“Well, Emma and Regina may struggle a bit more with that kind of travel.”

Folding his arms stubbornly, Henry rolled his eyes, the picture of his mother. “They shouldn’t. It’s not really that different.”

Killian’s brows furrowed in concern. “I’m afraid it is, lad. There’s a whole other range of dangers in other realms, ones that are far less easy to deal with than taxes and bank loans.”

Looking at his feet, Henry scuffed his toes along the deck of the ship, the same one he’d cleaned as retribution for all sorts of things, like the time he and Violet had snuck out to see a movie.

“I’ve survived them before.” he replied, this time less confident, quieter. “I don’t know, Killian. I just,” he stopped to gather his thoughts, “I’ve spent my whole life around fairytale characters, reading their stories in that book. I want to be a part of that. I need to be, I know it.”

Over the last few years, Killian had been somewhat of a confidante to Henry, someone who was more than happy to pull pranks on his mum, who he could try risky sword fighting moves with and petrify everyone else with them afterwards. But every now and then, when his mothers were either too busy or just didn’t understand, he’d be there for comfort, for solace.

That was the Killian that was in front of him now. That was the Killian that reached out and pulled him into a hug, patting him on the back.

“I understand, lad. Truly, I do.” Henry did his best to hide his sniff. “And for what it’s worth, I think your mothers will to.”

Henry let out a wet laugh, pulling away from the hug but staying close enough for Killian to keep his hands on his shoulders, “I’m not saying they’ll understand right away, but they’ll come around.”

Then he came out with the big one.

“We all just want what’s best for you, Henry. What makes you happy. Whether that’s here, on the other side of the world, the Enchanted Forest or the bloody moon, we’ll learn to deal with it. As long as you’re happy.”

Looking into this man’s eyes, Henry was yet again stunned by how much they’d both changed. Never would he have thought the man he caught staring at his mother would become this ..

“Thanks, Killian,” he replied simply, not knowing what else to say. “Do you think you could be there when I tell everyone? So I have someone on my side, at least?”

Killian looked down to the deck, then back up at Henry through his dark fringe. “Aye, Henry. Anything.”

Before the moment could get even sappier, he turned away to return to his spot on the bow, only to be joined moments later. They sat in silence, both staring out into the water. Henry could understand what Killian got out of being on the water for so long; there was nothing better, more calming, than staring out at the waves.

“I’m going to miss you, lad,” Killian admitted softly. Without responding, Henry simply nodded.

There was nothing else to say.

[mikialynn]

2020 Reflection

I haven’t been great about completing my reflections the past couple of years. Parts of them do exist, and I will create finished versions. However, 2020 is a year that I absolutely cannot miss reflecting on. Especially since it seems at any moment these days, something significant and perspective-altering can just happen. So I want to preserve where I am right at this moment.

At a historical level, on a global scale, 2020 has been the most important year I have ever lived through. The events of the past year have been on a scale that is so immense, I feel like I can’t even connect with them most of the time. But then there are flashes where it hits – where I have a digestible bit of life experience that taps me into the larger emotional current. And it overwhelms and terrifies me just long enough to push it away again.

We are approaching two million deaths in the world, with thousands dying every day. California has ordered dozens of refrigerated trucks just to hold the overflow of dead bodies. I have for the first in my life experienced truly believing that my parents might die within the year. I’ve had to sit through several instances where the chances of them being exposed were high and just hold my breath waiting for the events to unfold. It reminded me a bit of that stomach-dropping moment I realized I could have contracted rabies, and that it was a fatal situation if left untreated. Only this wasn’t for myself, this was for people I love, and for a virus that had no vaccine or guaranteed treatment, and so it came with added layers of helplessness, fear, and frustration.

We have an unbridled President stoking division in the country for a power-grabbing, personal-gain agenda that is unprecedented. It’s a reality you can’t help but shake your head to in disbelief thinking this just can’t exist in this day and age in this country. And yet there it is. Confederate flags in the Capitol. The inflammatory speeches. The unchecked, unabashed lies. The shockingly amoral willingness to appeal to people with such twisted, racist, fearful views of people and the world. The childish recklessness of undermining a democracy just to deflect and rationalize a loss.

We had the Black Lives Matter protests erupt across the nation. Unlike the Women’s Rights or Climate Change marches I’ve participated in before that are organized well in advance and have a designated time, these were often spontaneous protests sparked by a real personal and immediate anger and frustration. Protests that continued for months. Protests that, though mostly peaceful, sometimes did shut down cities and burn down buildings. And we saw an aggressive and often unjustifiable containment of those protests that is also unprecedented in my lifetime. For the first time, I’ve experienced city curfews and lock downs.

Just walking down the street, the evidence of how the world has changed is everywhere. People casually walking around in masks (at least in San Francisco, though clearly this varies by city, county, and state) that at this point have developed their own fashion of patterns and styles. People veer away to give each other a wide berth, even stepping off of the sidewalk into the road to avoid getting close. And none of that is considered rude. Busy streets are seen sectioned off for pedestrian use. Streets with restaurants are now lined with a collection of makeshift outdoor seating—the prototypical wooden walls and strung up garden lights. There are circles sprayed onto parks so people sit in their designated bubbles six feet apart. Shops are boarded up, either because the store went under or as a temporary fix to the break ins that happened during the protests. Markers are on the ground outside of grocery stores to indicate where to stand in line to be six feet apart. Plexiglass erected between yourself and the cashier. Hand sanitizers in every backpack and car, at the opening to every shop. Masks tucked into pockets and purses and car doors. The routine of disinfecting groceries. It all seems so normal now.

Despite so much erupting on the global stage, in that poetic contradictory fashion, I feel like in my personal bubble 2020 has been defined by how little has happened. With the exception of 2018, which I spent moving to San Francisco and living on the West Coast for the first time, 2020 is the first year since I was 17 years old that I haven’t traveled abroad. It is a year truly characterized by being stagnant and still.

The significance of traveling for me stems from a few places. The notion of how quickly time is used up and how limited our supply of it is has always been a fundamental motivator for me in how I approach life. It’s what drives me to learn and try and explore. How else should one spend a life if not trying to fit as many different experiences and gain as much perspective as one possibly can? To that end, I think being a good person is correlated to being exposed to as many types of people, places, and life experiences as possible. To me, traveling feels like connecting myself to the larger fabric of humanity and improving myself as a person. Travelling also helps me to keep perspective. One of my greatest fears is complacency. Getting into a routine that doesn’t really move or fulfill you but allows you to get by, and thinking that is enough while your life disappears. I feel like we have to be vigilant about reminding ourselves how valuable life is and how much we can do with our time as long as we keep pushing. Travelling to new places really gives me that reset and renewed energy. So, when I emphasize how 2020 was the first year I didn’t travel, what I’m really highlighting is how a major source of what fuels me and gives me a sense of value was missing. With everything horrible going on in the world, not having that safety net to pull me back and keep me mentally healthy enabled a sort of listlessness I hadn’t experienced before.    

I also couldn’t do any of my usual music or dance classes. I didn’t get to explore a new city and interact with its communities. Often times, I had to cancel planned camping and hiking trips because new lock down orders would come into place. I remember in 2018 as the year was coming to a close, I had it in my mind that my year-end reflection would be about the importance of being aimless. It was my year of having no plan, having no serious commitments, and just letting myself inhabit new versions of myself. I felt experimental, a little reckless, and free. The year 2020 is in such stark contrast.    

Here are some notable sad memories from 2020. My grandfather passed away. I was supposed to fly back for his funeral in March, but Covid-19 began hitting the U.S. in a noticeable way just before that trip. I remember just the week before, I had flown to visit my friend Barb in Vegas. I remember feeling the situation escalate as that trip unfolded – from Barb telling me she was feeling sick and me realizing she could be contagious with Covid, to wearing a mask for a prolonged time for the first time as I traveled through the airport, to ultimately booking an earlier flight home once I got to Las Vegas because I no longer felt it was safe. When I got back, I remember Stewart and I were driving back from work to his place, having just picked up our things to start working from home based on the new company policy (a week before a city order mandated it) and both of us reaching that turning point as we talked in the car. Up until that point, it was if we were slowly realizing the severity of the situation in bits and pieces. On that ride as we talked about how it would be irresponsible and unsafe to travel back to see my family, it escalated to the point of realization: things were not normal anymore. Things were going to change. And they were going to change for a while.

We had already booked and planned this extended trip back to Hawaii. My friend Winnie was going to travel to San Francisco the week after we got back. I had been working hard in preparation of taking the next month to be with friends and family. I’d been looking forward to the summer, when Stewart and I had planned to visit his family on the east coast and attend my college reunion. And then suddenly it was snatched away. I remember crying coming to grips with the immediate loss of those experiences, but also with the heaviness of what was happening around me. And then making the phone call to my parents. At the time, Hawaii was nowhere near the stage of fear and seriousness that we were at in California, and I remember having to convince them that it wasn’t a good idea to come home. I remember the tension of texting and emailing my aunts and uncles and cousins trying to get them to post-pone or scale down grandpa’s funeral to Big Island residents only. Tracking the Covid cases in Hawaii and watching as each day they increased exponentially. I remember my aunt’s comments about not wanting to put hand sanitizer out or have the immediate family seated away from the audience because she didn’t want to make people feel uncomfortable. It was a silly thought then, and has not aged well. Even looking back at the funeral photos where basically no one was wearing masks except my mom and grandma (because I sent them masks) is just unconceivable from this vantage point. But that’s the thing—everyone needed to have that moment of realization. And it came to people at different times for different reasons. And to some people sadly and frustratingly, it never came.

I remember the week following my grandpa’s funeral, my dad called to tell me had accidentally hit Nala with the truck, and that when they took her to the vet they discovered a tumor in her mouth. It was a rapid decline from there, and we put her to sleep soon after. I hadn’t experienced putting a dog to sleep since I was a kid. We also invested so much more individual attention to Nala because she lived during a time when she was the only dog. So losing her was just heartbreaking. And it was heartbreaking imagining my dad feeling any sort of guilt about it, and knowing my parents had to care for her as she declined. It still hurts me to imagine Hoku, our puppy, apparently jumping in the truck looking for Nala after she was put down, trying to track her down by her scent.

I cried a lot during that beginning period of the Covid experience. I was also staying at Stewart’s place in Berkeley, which up until that time I hadn’t spent much time at. So I felt disconnected from things that felt comfortable and normal in multiple ways. I also had an underlying stress about my brother’s wedding during that time, since at that point they were still planning to go through with it in October. Ultimately, they did decide to post-pone the wedding to the following year.

Eventually Stewart and I started taking action to combat the monotony that comes from having your work and social life confined to your home by planning some camping trips. But as fate would have it, once we started doing that, California had a record-breaking year in wildfires. And so we watched as the smoke rolled in, bringing us the worst air quality levels in the world at the time, and turning the sky orange. Never before have I had to constantly monitor air quality to decide if I could go outside or not, or jump in a car to use its filtration system while waiting out a period of particularly bad smoke.

Then, to close off the year, a worker on our farm had an overnight guest that tested positive for Covid, and I had to convince my parents to get tests. I went tense and numb for a week as we awaited the results, which were thankfully all negative. And on the very same day we found out about our worker’s exposure to Covid, I found out in a mix of frantic messages from my sister and friends that a fire had broken out on the farm. No one was hurt, but the container and building that stored many of my siblings belongings (and possibly some of mine that I’m not aware of) including my sister’s wedding dress, our Christmas decorations, and hundreds of thousands of dollars in farm equipment were completely destroyed.

But there were some good things that came from 2020! Motivated by wanting to take advantage of the time I have with my family when everyone is alive and well, I started scheduling weekly Zoom calls, which is the most remote communication my family has ever had. It also pushed me to have dad chip in for a smart phone for my mom’s birthday. We also got them an antenna for the internet, so it is now much easier to be in touch.

Another happenstance of 2020 is that it forced a lot of people to be more domestic. Clearly, given the shortage of flour at grocery stores at the start of the pandemic. It was fun reading my 2016 reflection where I talk about how I’m struggling to see myself as an adult since I still just cook with premade sauces, I have never held a job for more than a year, and my largest investment is my laptop. I can now safely say that I feel like an adult! I have a sourdough starter baby that I regularly make pizza dough and crackers from, and I have helped to put on Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. I’ve been at this job for over 2 and a half years, and my savings have gone from zero to half my income. I often feel like I am the mother of 667 Fell St. Oh, and I also turned 30 this year (which would probably have been a cornerstone of this reflection in a normal year, but is just an afterthought in this one).  

I think another shared experience a portion of society has had is the self-reflection on whether or not we are happy with what we are doing in our lives. With all the social opportunities taken away, everyone fortunate enough to maintain their jobs has had their work be the focal activity of the year. And for those of us dissatisfied with our jobs, the lack of distractions outside of work to sustain us has made it clear that this is not a path to continue down further. The stress of the constant billable time to the 15-minute increment, the energy drain of the monotonous work, the emptiness of feeling like your life and time and potential is being wasted on work that has no meaning. It’s not enough to sustain me. While this isn’t blatantly a positive thought, I think it’s a clarity that will lead to a positive outcome in the long run. I don’t have the time and energy to do the things I enjoy with my current job, and I don’t have an interest in building on the skills this job requires. I want to support communities and people more directly, and I want to have creativity and writing play a larger role in the work I do. Where to go from here, I’m not sure, but I don’t want to waste another year not pursuing those opportunities.

Similarly, I can say that I have shared what has been a difficult but important life experience with my partner this year. And, despite both of us sharing the same living space and working at the same job together—which amounts to spending almost 24/7 together—we are still doing well. We aren’t in the happiest place given all that’s going on in the world and dissatisfaction with our jobs. But I’ve seen that we can share in difficult times together and still find ways to maintain a sense of fun and love. I certainly did not plan on living with a partner less than one year into a relationship, but the times have pushed us to accelerate things and we stayed strong through it. It was fun getting to know Berkeley—the neighborhoods and the trails. Stewart and I also shared in coastal foraging and fishing excursions, squeezed in a beautiful backpacking trip to Kennedy Lake (where Stewart even carried my backpack for me when I had some sort of elevation sickness), went on a roadtrip through Nevada, Utah, and Arizona to visit Barb and David, and even bought a boat and went boat-in camping at Tomales Bay. While I didn’t add new countries to the list of places I’ve been, I did manage to add national parks and forests like Stanislaus, Arches, Zion, and Death Valley.

Other perks of the year have been not having to waste time commuting to work, and therefore spending most of the year not having to wake up to an alarm. It was also nice sharing this bonding experience with my roommates, who I’m very grateful to have found in 2019. I also joined in the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion group at WRA and was able to be a judge for a middle school science competition, which brought me a lot of joy and inspiration to find similar work to do full time. Lastly, Biden thankfully won the presidential election. It was as if I had been holding my breath for four years and finally, when it seemed like even a contested result wouldn’t undo the margin that Biden had won by, all that tension came pouring out. Stewart and I pulled over in the car on our way to do some fishing as the results flashed on our phones and celebrated. I can’t imagine how hopeless it would have felt stepping into 2021 knowing we had another four years of the Trump administration.

I also want to note some things I meant to do but didn’t (and to say that it’s okay that I didn’t do them, because 2020 was not an easy year, and we all had to learn to be patient with ourselves throughout it). I’d stopped taking vocal classes with the intention of doing dance classes, but then never did because of Covid (the disclaimer, I’m currently signed up for a month-long class this January). Stewart bought me a keyboard, but I barely played it. I planned on quitting my job but, albeit for reasonable concerns about the economy and job market, never left it. There was video footage that I never edited and interview ideas that I didn’t get around to doing. I didn’t start building a communications body of work. I was never able to maintain good exercise habits. I didn’t finish and post my 2018 and 2019 reflections.

But you see, what I’ve realized is that when you’re not happy, it’s hard to do all the things you want to. I’m grateful that I even had a job, I’m grateful I genuinely like the people I was quarantined with, and I’m grateful for the money I was able to save during this past year. But it was a hard year and an unsatisfying year professionally. My hope for the coming year is that the clarity gained in what type of job I don’t want, and the financial buffer I now have, will allow me to transition to something more sustainable in the coming year. Something more fulfilling and more enjoyable. It’s the big ask, I know, to find a job that you also love. But I’m narrowed in on environmental communications or education, and I think one of the two will pan out.  

So I’m going to continue to be patient and forgiving with myself in these trying times, but hopefully this past year will be a year I can always draw from. When I’m making an excuse to call my mom later, that I remember how scared I was when she got on the plane to the Big Island and thought she truly might be taken away from me, and then decide to call. When I’m choosing jobs, that I remember how the way you feel about the work you do seeps into all other aspects of your life, and that I choose passion over stability. I hope 2020 will always serve to remind me to be grateful.  

[spiderwebsanddust]

Inheritance

I have mentioned more than once how I have written and self-published a novel. I’ve had a few people asking about it. It’s a YA / NA supernatural fiction. This is the first chapter of ‘Inheritance’

It was going to be one of those days. She could just tell.

Jess was a medium, and this might not sound like the kind of job that could leave you wanting to bury your head under a pile of pillows, but she had learned the hard way that sometimes this was the case.

In truth, there were two different types of clients—the Sincere and the Greedy. Sounds a bit like the name of a soap opera, but it is nowhere near as mindlessly entertaining. The Sincere were a treat, but the Greedy left her drained, weighted down by the kind of exhaustion that made it hard to string a complete sentence together.

Luckily, the majority of those who sought Jess out were not of that nasty ilk. Most of her clients needed the empathy and comfort that could only come from someone like her. She felt not only obliged but happy to give them what they craved. These were the appointments she loved, the ones which helped her feel like there might be a purpose for her gift, a reason for why she had to deal with always being made to feel like a freak.

She had more than a touch of jealousy for her clients. There was a cruel twist to Jess’ gift in that she’d been unable to give herself the same kind of peace by talking to her own deceased loved ones. While she could provide solace to so many others, she couldn’t get an ounce for herself. She had never once seen a spirit to whom she was emotionally attached. None of them—not her Grandma, her Grandpa, not even the mother who had died giving birth to her—had ever made an appearance. Jess saw that as some kind of sick joke.

The idea of seeking payment for her skill had ultimately been born of necessity—a girl’s got to eat. She only wished she could filter her clients, refusing those she suspected of being in the group of Greedy; however, that would be a little like having a bouncer in a retail shop who did not allow entry to those who seemed cranky. A client is a client is a dollar.

The first hint that this was going to be one of those dreaded appointments came before she’d even stepped through the door. She dragged her sandal-clad feet along the path to the entry and glanced through the bay window that fronted the living room. The deceased was pacing angrily around the room, muttering what her lip reading skills interpreted as obscenities. She muttered her own choice words under her breath as she realized that whatever it was he had to say, it would not be a message of love and kisses.

More clues followed. When the door was opened by the grieving widow, Jess immediately observed that in spite of the dramatic sobs, there were no tears in her eyes. The perfect makeup, immaculate hair and designer dress hardly bespoke someone who was grief stricken.

She should have walked away immediately, but the rent needed to be paid, and Jess was determined to make it on her own. Her father called her willful—she preferred independent.

The purpose of the appointment was not an unusual one. She was to find out the location of the deceased’s will. Mrs. Achison dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and spoke of her desperate need to know his final wishes, at her feelings of emptiness over this unresolved issue. To hear her describe it, the will’s absence was one of the world’s great tragedies. Jess took it all in stride.

Call her cynical, but she’d long since stopped taking displays of emotion as truth. Too many people wiped at dry eyes.

Payment was the final step before beginning the session. One thing Jess had learned over time was that she must always be paid up front. She’d run into more than one client who had decided Jess was a hack based solely on the fact that they hadn’t received the message they’d wanted. Another lesson Jess had learned: the truth doesn’t always go down well.

Cash in hand, it was time to get to work.

“Mr. Achison,” she said silently, settling her small frame into a chair. She looked directly at him, making it clear that she could both see and hear him. “Your wife asked me here to speak with you.”

“You can see me?” he asked. He rushed over and loomed in front of Jess, staring at her in disbelief.

This was usually when the rambling started, the spirits making up for lost time as if they had a word count quota and had fallen woefully behind. Jess had created her own guidelines for managing these situations, and they started with her telling the deceased exactly what she was looking to find out, framed in the form of a closed question. The trick was to leave no opening for conjecture.

Normally it worked like a charm.

This time it was an epic failure.

Mr. Achison’s eyes flew open then squinted with obvious fury. “My will?” he demanded, his words roaring for only Jess to hear. “She’s worried about what I left her?” He jabbed one angry finger in his wife’s direction. “You tell her I know she was sleeping with my brother. Hell no. I’m not telling her where the will is. Tell her that right now!”

From there, everything spiraled out of Jess’ control. Back and forth, bitching and moaning, slinging crap that Jess wanted nothing to do with. Even a saint would have thrown up their hands, and Jess was the first to admit that she was no saint. At one point, the angry couple seemed to forget she was even there despite the fact that the husband’s words came through Jess’ mouth. Enough was enough. Time to snap them back a bit.

“Listen, Mr. Achison,” she declared out loud, surprising both the living and the dead. “I’m not going to tell her another word you say unless you give up the will. Once we have it, I will give you twenty more minutes of my life, which is, quite frankly, almost too much for me to take. During those twenty minutes, I am at your disposal as an interpreter. So speak up now, or my lips are sealed.”

He waited one final, stubborn moment before at long last giving up the location of the precious document. Jess resigned herself to living up to her end of the bargain, playing her role as the voice of the wronged party for the full twenty minutes, and not an extra second. By that point, she was ready to leave and never look back—and when the time came that is exactly what she did.

After this draining appointment and with money in her pocket, she hurried to her favourite café to meet her best friend, Cassie, and unwind from the day. A glass of wine would have been her first choice, but her nineteenth birthday was still a few months away, so she wouldn’t be able to place that particular order. At five-one and a hundred and five pounds soaking wet, she could never pass for older than she was. She settled for the massive coffee, dark and strong, just the way she liked it. It would suffice, at least until she could get home to the wine that was in her fridge. She might be a few months away from buying it herself, but was always happy to accept a liquid gift, and that’s what this bottle had been.

Generally, she avoided places like this, popular spots that were so full of hipsters. The dark lighting, industrial stone walls and trash-chic decor were like crack to the über-cool crowd. But this place was different in a specific way that made it appealing to Jess. Return visits were based on the fact that she had yet to see a ghost there. It was a relief, not seeing them. A respite. Jess had often thought the spirit world should have rules of conduct, etiquette standards that kept them from harassing the few humans who could see and hear them. Unfortunately, they had no such guidelines, and ghosts had terrible manners. It was sometimes hard for Jess to get through an entire night without the distraction of someone demanding to be heard.

Jess stared into her mug, suddenly wary. A thrill of electricity danced over her skin, a barely audible humming started up in her ears. She peered around the place, wanting to reassure herself that everyone had a pulse. She was beginning to wonder if this might be the night when this place’s perfect record would be broken. But she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Even when a spirit appeared solid, they were always surrounded by a distinctive glow, a shimmering aura that was like a beacon for Jess’ power. That beacon always called to her. Right now her senses were trembling stronger than ever, but there was no source to be seen. It was unnerving.

Hiding behind her veil of perfectly straightened dark hair, she tried to shake the feeling of unease. A large mouthful of coffee was a step in the right direction. Caffeine helped with clarity.

“Hey, you. Sorry I’m late.”

Jess started, surprised by Cassie’s sudden appearance. “No problem”

Cassie settled into her seat in one fluid motion, her exhaustion obvious. “This whole ‘finding a career’ business is a cartload of work,” she said.

Jess smiled affectionately at her friend, already feeling the tension evaporating simply because she was there. But Cassie really did look tired. Her blue eyes were ringed by dark circles, her cheeks lacked their usual rosiness, and she’d pushed her blonde mane back in a wide band so she wouldn’t have to spend time on upkeep.

They’d met in third grade when Cassie had been the new kid in school. Everyone had wanted to be her best friend. That she’d gravitated toward Jess at all—the dark-haired girl with the strange, maple syrup eyes—had always been a puzzle. All her life, Jess had been the weird kid. She’d been well aware of that label since kindergarten, and had gotten used to it. The truth is it’s hard to fit in when dead people are always popping up, vying for attention. And while other kids might not have known what was wrong with Jess, they’d known they’d wanted none of it.

Cassie, however, had decided to sit next to Jess, the one person who hadn’t made a fuss over her. It hadn’t been Jess’ lack of interest keeping her quiet, only that she’d assumed Cassie would think the same of her as all the others did. But she didn’t. Cassie actually seemed to like being around her. She even believed Jess when she’d eventually told her about the spirits she saw.

Few people have a friend who is truly a “sister,” and it was perhaps because of that closeness that Jess could not bring herself to admit to Cassie what had really been bothering her. Truth be told, she was more than a little bit jealous of her friend. In the midst of completing a marketing degree, Cassie was now on the road to building a life, searching through the classifieds for a job related to her field that would carry her through university and into adulthood. It was part of the normalcy that seemed boring to those who were in the middle of it and heavenly to those on the outside looking in.

Jess had done her best to create a life for herself, but when her friends had gone off to college the year before, she’d known that hadn’t been an option. School had always been difficult for her, compounded by the added distraction of ghostly appearances.

She’d been determined to begin life on her own terms and wasted no time in finding her own apartment. To make ends meet, she’d worked at the New Age store and begun doing spirit consultations, gaining clients through word of mouth. All she could do was take what she’d been given and make the best of it. Still, sometimes she envied all the doors that were flung wide open for her friends. Not much hope of upward mobility in Jess’ career.

She rubbed absently at her arms, trying to dispel the strange sensation in the air, but it refused to go away. Another sip of coffee. Jess wanted more than anything to convincingly show an interest in her friend’s life and keep Cassie from guessing at her jealousy. This was an exciting time for Cassie, and she deserved to be the centre of attention.

“Any luck with the search?” she asked.

“I went to the job centre this morning,” Cassie began halfheartedly. She shrugged. “There are a few really cool openings for students. The provincial art gallery is looking for someone to work on promoting the annual fundraiser, but it’s not a permanent position. Still, I think that might be fun. And there was one—” She frowned. “You aren’t listening, are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Jess said, resolving to come clean about one thing at least. “Things just feel … off ... lately.”

Whenever she had anything uncomfortable to say, Jess had a tendency to fidget like a male politician hooked up to a lie detector with his wife in the room. The napkin she’d pulled from the dispenser was now slowly being torn to shreds. Filling her lungs slowly in a way that is supposed to be grounding, Jess let her eyes dart around the room as the sense of unease spiked again. She shook her head, trying to throw off the inability to focus.

“... and I swear there’s something in this room, but I can’t see a spirit anywhere.”

Cassie nodded then shrugged again. “Maybe it’s not a spirit. It could be that the ‘feeling’ is your response to the repulsive PDA happening right there.” She tilted her head toward the couple standing face to face two tables away. It was apparent that neither wanted to sit, because that would mean they’d have to separate onto two chairs. At any second their overt sappiness threatened to spill over into inappropriate touching. “If the feeling is ‘different’ in that it includes nausea, I’d say I’m right.”

Jess relaxed even further into her seat, and they laughed in a way that only best friends can. Still, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling.

“Distract me some more,” Jess said, leaning forward onto her elbows. She finished her coffee and slid the mug aside. “Tell me about the job hunt, or what’s going on with Mason. Random gossip?”

Cassie brightened at the mention of the guy she’d recently started dating, but Jess knew she hadn’t completely fooled her friend. Cassie would eventually demand to know what was bothering her, and she would have to admit to her envy. They had no secrets between them.

“Okay,” Cassie said, letting her off the hook temporarily, “but first I need to get you another coffee. And something with whipped cream for me.”

As she slid from the booth and bounced off toward the counter, the electric sensation surrounding Jess escalated. She leaned forward and covered her ears with her hands as though that would muffle the incessant hum, though she knew it was pointless. Her abilities came from within, and the only thing that would make the sound go away would be to deal with the external stimulus. She peeked up cautiously, but another scan of the room still revealed no obvious ghosts.

As she sat up straighter, her elbow knocked a few of the napkin shreds to the floor, and Jess bent down to pick them up. She really needed to find a less messy way to deal with nerves. As she crouched to collect the pieces, her head blocked anyone trying to pass, so she wasn’t surprised when a jean clad leg stopped next to her ear. She sat up and pushed the complete pile of paper aside with one hand while the other hand rubbed her brow hard. The sensation roaring through her mind was too strong to ignore. The vibrations had become a pounding that filled her entire being. Where was this coming from? No ghost had ever caused this strong a reaction.

She glanced up, surprised to see the owner of the jean-clad leg still standing there, staring down at her. When their eyes met she was frozen in her seat. She swallowed hard, trying to form words.

“Um … C-can I help you?” she stammered, barely above a whisper.

He appeared to be roughly her own age—perhaps slightly older—carefully disheveled with overgrown sandy blonde hair and a well worn army green jacket. There was nothing threatening in his intense grey-green stare, and yet she was pinned to her seat, unable to move. Though he was easily over a foot taller than Jess, she didn’t feel small. Incredibly, she felt somehow elevated beyond herself in a way she never had before. It made no sense.

For all she knew, he was about to ask if he could borrow the sugar.

“My name is Aaron Thorne,” he said, his voice slightly gravelly. He stuck out his right hand. “You’re Jessica Gardner, right?”

Their locked stare never wavered as she slid her small hand into his, her fingertips brushing the worn canvas cuff of his jacket. How had he known her name?

She never had the chance to ask.

Everything changed in a matter of seconds. In the instant that his hand closed over hers, the mounting pressure came at her from all directions, and the sound in her ears rose like a strong wind. The entire room shifted slightly as Jess sat, transfixed. When the room righted itself, everything was different. Colours were brighter, sounds were sharper, smells were stronger. The stranger dropped her hand and staggered back, and she knew he had felt the same thing. He appeared to have the same confusion swirling through his mind as she did—it was written all over his face. She rubbed her damp hands on her lap, trying to somehow ground herself, feel present in her own body again.

And yet … the strange feeling she’d been experiencing since her arrival at the café was completely gone.

“What was that?” she whispered.

He shook his head and pushed his sandy blonde hair back with both hands, and muttered a breathy “No fucking clue” before he turned and rushed away, gone as suddenly as he had appeared. Jess stared at his back, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Buy me a coffee? Please??