#Gladys Foamwire

[ughmyreality]

you should make a fic involving stephanie, just putting it out there

So, this fic might be ooc but I actually like how it turned out. This is somewhat more wholesome and cutesy vs the other fics I've written but Stephanie deserves it. Anyway, I present, "Oh Stefany, Stefanie, Stephany"

Stephanie knows she should be crying. After all funerals are meant to be sad, that is unless you were having a celebration of life. But in her case this couldn’t be any farther from the truth. The person in question was her mother but even knowing this would be the last time she’d see her didn’t change her attitude.

It was a rather small affair, with less than 20 people. Her mother was never one for friends. Stephanie was in no way in charge of setting up the funeral despite being the daughter of the deceased. It was up to the rest of the small family to take over, whether that be because they wanted to help ease the burden or because they thought that she was going to ruin it she doesn’t know.

Her hands grip down on the obituary, an ugly pastel purple. She looks down to read it and see what brilliant lies they wrote about her mother. Because heaven forbid that people write about how people were actually like. Not everyone lights up a room or would give someone the shirt off their back, especially not her mom.

In Loving Memory

-Gladys Foamwire-

Gladys was a sweet woman taken far too soon. She spent her last days alongside her daughter Stefany…

‘Stefany’?

They couldn’t even be bothered to spell her name correctly. Sure, the feeling stung, but what more could she expect. No one knows the real her, the real Stephanie. She’ll just have to learn to be ok with that.

“Hi, I’m Stephanie, here to sign the lease.”

A balding man grins at her. He opens the door wider and ushers her in.

“Of course, Of course! Follow me this way.”

After the death of her Mom, she had to do some soul searching. For so long she had been tied down to her mother that now that she was finally free she didn’t know what to do. But she’s made her decision now. She’s ready to start a new chapter in her life.

She was going to buy this rusty old building and turn it into something of her own. Redecorate it from the ground up and prove that she has what it takes to stand out from the crowd. It was going to be perfect, and even better yet, she’s sure that her Mom would be rolling over in her grave if she found out.

“Well, it’s great to see you! I have all the paperwork filled out already. Feel free to look it over and make sure everything is correct and then sign away!”

Stephanie’s eyes skim the paper. Date of birth, correct. Today’s date, correct. Name, corr-

Buyer: Stefanie

“Um… my name is Stephanie as in ‘S t e p h a n i e’, not with a f.”

“Oh, my apologies, Stephanie. I’ll have a new paper printed right away. Do you mind coming back a little bit later?”

She holds back the urge to sigh. Was it that hard to spell her name? But she shouldn’t care anyway. She won’t have to deal with this man for very much longer anyway.

“Sure, that’s fine.”

Moralton isn’t a place for the youth. There are very few things to do and even fewer for those non church going. That’s why every once in a while Stephanie ventures out of her comfort zone and leaves for the night. It’s how she ended up in this situation to begin with.

“Hey!”

The woman beside her practically yells in her ear. It was already a loud atmosphere, obviously in a club, but the girl's voice wasn’t helping matters.

She was short with reddish brown hair draped over her shoulder. They’d talked off and on throughout the night saying her name is Victoria but it was clear that she’d had more drinks than she could handle.

“I’m about to leave but here take this! I’ll see you later babe!”

The woman stubbles forward and shoves a napkin in her hands. A person who she could only assume was her friend waves at her apologetically. Apparently this was Victoria’s usual drunk behavior.

“Byeeee!”

The napkin was written on with plain black ink with a subtle mark of red lipstick. It reads ‘Call me Stephany, it’s your girl Vic xoxo’ with a hastily written phone number on the side.

She had spelled her name wrong. Typical. It’s no big deal. Besides she’d much rather have a true connection with someone rather than whatever this was. She’ll be ok, she always was.

“Do you think that getting a cross tattoo would be blasphemous?” Orel asks in his usual innocent way.

“Orel, you know that I don’t know about these things. Why do you want a tattoo anyway?”

The boy clasps his hands together “Well, some kid at school told me tha-”

“Orel, please don’t let what other people say dictate your life. You’re too short, shortie, to be worried about what other people think. What until you're a bit taller.”

“Fine, I guess you're right. Well, I’ve to get to church bef-. I almost forgot! We were talking about how we all need to be appreciative and giving in church the other week. How it’s important for us to let go of all our worldly possessions. So, I have a gift for you since I won’t be needing it anymore. I’ve become one with nature!”

He throws a little box up on the counter with a smile and takes a look at the clock.

“Sorry, but I’ve really got to get going, Bye!”

Orel runs out the door leaving Stephanie alone with only the box with her. The note on top of it says From Orel to Stephanie. She couldn’t help but laugh, at least someone spelled it right.

Stephanie used to think that no one cared to know the real her. But maybe she was wrong, she was just looking in all the wrong places.

She delicately peels off the paper and opens the box to see a shiny gold key. How strange. On further inspection she sees a keychain attached to it reading ‘Orel’s house key’. What had that boy gotten into this time. Had he been sleeping outside for the last week?

“OREL! Get back here you can’t give this to me!”

[gangles-toybox]

Edits(1/2)

Edits I've done :3

[mandareeboo]

Title: The Long Haul

Summary: It's guys like Reverend Putty who get daughters like Stephanie. And, boy, isn't the world a better place for it?

Excerpt:

It's guys like Reverend Putty who get daughters like Stephanie. Or, to be more accurate; it's women like Gladys Foamwire, who break into Reverends' houses in hopes of inseminating herself with some used latex, that get daughters like Stephanie. Daughters who, in spite of the best hopes of aforementioned women, don't really take after said Reverend in the looks department. Daughters who aren't as religious as you'd expect the child of a preacher and the lady so into God she did- well, that whole spiel- to be. Daughters who are, despite other's best efforts, gay.

Stephanie doesn't really mind that anymore. She did, once. She did when her mom kicked her out. She did when she had nothing and no one. But y'know what? Things are pretty sweet now. She's got a dad, more or less. She's got a friend- granted, he's only half her height and not even half her age, but she's not all that picky. She's got a shop all to herself, and the nicest piercing gun this side of Sinville. It's as nice as it gets in Moralton.

Or, at least, it was.

Hey, look, a long 'fic for a show that aired like ten years ago. Ah, but I suspect it's normal of me to delve into random fandoms for like .02 seconds, then pop right back out. So I guess that's what this is lol. (Also, writing this as an agnostic was interesting- if I've gotten anything wrong terminology-wise, don't be afraid to tell me! I've never been in a Protestant sermon. I just tried to keep it to the characters themselves.)

Buy me a Coffee?

[shxneinhearts-archive]

Stephanie HC:

Stephanie’s mother was from the outskirts of Moralton where most of the non-Anglo-Saxon residents lived (close to the Figurellis), near the Chinese restaurant. Her family was one of only a couple Asian families in town. Gladys Foamwire lived alone and never married but harbored secret affections for the Reverend, Stephanie’s father.

As a teenager, Stephanie felt somewhat of an outcast among her peers, for her ethnicity and for being a closeted lesbian. Stephanie’s mother tried to assimilate to the dominant culture, so Steph didn’t know much about her Chinese heritage until she was a young adult. Since she didn’t know her father until after her mother died, she felt disconnected and torn between two cultures growing up.