#and the mom erased all memory of those two children from her husbands mind because she was hella rad

[anxiousstark]

The times you wanted to cry in front of JJ but held back, and the time you didn't | JJ MAYBANK

Warnings: Sad, angst, mentions of a loved one dying, physical and emotional abuse, anxiety. Kiara and Sarah were already friends. FLUFFLY AND HAPPY ENDING.

Word Count: 2648

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

If you guys see my works in other websites, let me know, please. I only have Tumblr.

BIG MASTERLIST

Laugher surrounded you. Normally, that would be something you loved, making you feel embraced by a peaceful environment. The Wreck was empty, except for the pogues enjoying a friendly night, full of laughter, delicious food, and kindness.

Usually, you cherished those nights. They would end with Kiara Carrera, Sarah Cameron, and you, Y/N Y/L/N dancing on top of a table while the three boys grinned, betting on who would slip first. But also, preparing to get into action, to avoid someone getting hurt.

Except that night wasn't like every night. Your hands shook a little, gripping your phone tightly. Your eyes moved along that sentence, over and over again, in case you read wrong.

'Grandma passed away.'

Your parents were harsh on you. Every Kook parent was harsh on their child. But your parents had an important role that they had to maintain, being the ones in charge of every Midsummer. They needed to keep up with their perfect image, which meant that you had to keep up with it too. Even if it was too much.

Your grandmas was an exception, a lovely one. She believed in love, actually falling in love. She didn't like it when parents tried to search the 'perfect one' for their children, that perfect one being someone full of shitty money. She believed in freedom. She was the only person you went to when you couldn't cope up with some situations. She was always there, arguing with your parents, and swearing to all the gods and goddesses that you wouldn't end up being a stuck Kook married with someone who loved your status, and not your persona.

But now, she wasn't there anymore. She was gone.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to sob violently, and be embraced by your friends. And even if things weren't going to be okay, you wanted to hear them whisper that to you. But you didn't.

When Kiara's dad entered The Wreck because he had forgotten his wallet, his eyes spotted you, offering a sad smile. "Hey, Y/N. I'm so sorry." He walked to you, embracing you for a couple of seconds. Someone had turned the music off, and every pogue's attention was on you. "Bless her. She was an amazing woman. I'm so sorry for your loss."

You bit your lower lip, hoping that if you bit down on it hard enough, it would stop shaking. "Thank you," You whispered, trying to maintain a tiny smile on your beautiful face.

"Your grandma," He continued. "Best woman I've known. If you need anything, you can always come here." He waved, exiting the restaurant.

All eyes were on you, but you didn't break down. No. You didn't. Teary eyes were nothing if you smiled like everything was okay. Everyone would believe you were okay, right?

"I'm so sorry for your loss." Kiara was the first one to break the silence, then all of the others gave you their blessings, asking if you were alright. Everyone knew how much you loved that woman. Everyone knew you would do the craziest things for her.

To all the questions, you smiled, nodding your head and assuring your friends that everything was just fine. "She is in a better place," No, that was a lie. There was no better place for her than next to you. The person who loved her the most.

Everyone would believe you were okay? No, JJ Maybank knew you like the back of his hand. But he didn't say anything, just rested his hand on your back, rubbing his thumb in circles, hoping to offer comfort. You, again, smiled.

That was the first time you wanted to cry in front of JJ but held back.

Walking was hard, but you still tried to walk as you normally did. All pogues were to meet on the beach. It was the perfect day to get some amazing waves, to surf, to eat delicious and fresh food, to joke around, to make unforgettable memories.

You already had some unforgettable memories that day, but not the kind you wanted to remember, the kind you wanted to erase from your mind.

When you arrived at the beach everyone was there. The blonde boy waved at you, of course, waiting for you to go closer to them. When you did, they greeted you. It didn't matter how long you all knew each other, the excitement was always there.

It was a nice morning. Until it was time to go into the water, you didn't want to. That is why, you had left your surfboard at home, hiding in the corner of your room. But of course, you hadn't thought about how JJ always had a board prepared for if someone forgot theirs.

"I'm okay, really," Lying became easy as time went by. "I don't feel like getting into the water. That time of the month." You rested your hand on the lower part of your belly while lying again.

"But you love surfing," JJ stayed back for a couple of seconds while the others were already shouting happily, getting into the water, and splashing each other. John B grabbed Kiara, pulling her down while Pope told them not to play so roughly because someone would end up getting hurt. "You want me to stay with you?"

"No," You grinned. "Go into the ocean! That I'm not going to surf doesn't mean I don't want to see the coolest surfer in the Outer Banks."

He smirked, getting distracted from the previous conversation due to the flirty friendship you guys had. "I never knew you were THAT much in love with me. Do you have dirty dreams about me at night?" He licked his lower lip while grinning.

Your hand grabbed some sand, throwing it at him. "Go!"

He didn't go. He continued staring at you, deeply. "Are you sure you are okay?" You nodded your head which didn't convince him much. "You know that if you need to talk to someone, I'm here. We all are."

"JJ," You whispered. "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm okay. Just hate being a woman one time a month." You chuckled when he pulled a disgusted expression.

Looking at him run towards the others, the smile on your face vanished. Your tummy was full of red and purple marks, all given to you by your father. Rafe Cameron had given away to your parents that you considered yourself a pogue, escaping your house and meeting with the people you truly loved, and that loved you back. Your dad didn't like that, and everyone that knew him in a more personal way knew that he couldn't control his temper. He was the reason your brother abandoned the Outer Banks years ago.

You used to hate him for leaving you there with him. But now, you would stand in silence, receiving those punches if it meant that at the end of the day, you would be able to see your friends. To see JJ Maybank.

That was the second time you wanted to cry in front of JJ but held back.

You tried not to play with the fork, knowing that it was bad manners and that you would get a kick from under the table by your mom. You were hungry but also tried not to eat much because there were visitors, and your mom tried to convince you that a woman should not eat much in front of a man they are trying to impress. Bullshit. But you had to do it if you wanted to go to sleep without any bruise.

You weren't trying to impress anyone. Your parents wanted to impress the Cameron family. Sarah and you didn't look at each other, knowing that Rafe would be asshole enough to reveal how both of you knew each other because you went out with the pogues. Even though, he had already revealed that information to your parents.

"You two look so lovely," Your mom grinned, while Rafe's father nodded his head. "I'm so glad both of you had decided to go out together!" What?

What?

"What?" The mere question escaped from in between your lips. "I didn't-" You felt a kick under the table, you mom was glaring at you while your eyes got teary.

"Baby," She grinned wickedly. "Last night, you told me you had a big crush on Rafe. I know you are shy about these things, so I told him myself!"

"Woah," Rafe's dad intervened. Although, your eyes were on your mom, feeling completely disgusted by the lie she told. "It so amazing that you guys have such a close relationship."

No, you didn't. You guys didn't have a close relationship. You could never be close to someone who walked away when her husband beat the shit out of her own daughter.

They were arranging a relationship between Rafe Cameron and you. If your grandma was there, she wouldn't let that happen. But she wasn't which meant you were going to end up dating Rafe Cameron. Which meant you had to hide your feeling for JJ Maybank, again.

That night, JJ called your phone. He told you about how he had found this cute little puppy on the street, convincing John B to let him keep it. You almost cried while listening to his voice. Of course, you didn't.

That was the third time you wanted to cry in front of JJ but held back.

A red velvet dress embraced your body, arms full of goosebumps. You weren't sure if those were because you were a little cold due to the chilly night or because of the situation. It was your birthday, and you wanted to celebrate it. You wanted to go out with the pogues, swim, dance, or even just not do anything but be with them. But of course, you weren't allowed to.

The situation was even more shitty. Your parents had taken your phone, not giving it back, claiming that now that you were with Rafe Cameron it was even more important to be far from 'those stupid non-deserving pogues'. It had been weeks since you saw or talked to them. They didn't know what was going on.

You had ignored Kiara when she saw you shopping with Sarah. The Cameron girl swore not to say a word, even though she believed that it would hurt them even more. You had pushed John B out of the way when he saw you the other day, walking with some other Kooks, something you would never do. You had insulted Pope when he stopped-by your house to deliver some things. And a couple of days ago, Rafe Cameron had kissed you on the lips when he saw that JJ Maybank was walking to you, worriedly because you had been missing from all the pogues meeting.

So now, you were in the middle of Midsummer's party, eyes lost. The pogues probably hated you, not understanding your change of behavior. The hand that was resting on your lower back wasn't the one you wanted. And the eyes of your parents burned holes on the back of your head. Midsummer's were more important than your birthday. Not even your parent had wished you a happy birthday. Not Rafe Cameron, even though you didn't need anything from him. Not the pogues, and they had a valid reason not to. Multiple reasons not to.

Sarah did, but because she knew what was going on.

Kiara avoided you all night, not even daring to glance at you. Pope was helping his father serve food, and even when he went near you, offering food or drinks, he didn't look up to meet your eyes.

You didn't expect John B and JJ to appear at the Midsummer party. JJ's face was bruised, and your heart ached because you were always the first one to know about those things, but this time you weren't. The guards were already prepared to kick both boys out of the party.

Sarah and Kiara looked at each other, running toward both boys, hugging them closely. You couldn't help but smile a little when you saw the happiness on their faces. Especially, on JJ Maybank.

Pope glanced at his father, apologizing, and following his friends. All of them ready to leave.

Your grin vanished. Gaze focused on the floor. "I will be back. I need to retouch my makeup." You told Rafe, moving his hand away from your waist. You needed to go to the bathroom. You couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A hand grabbed your wrist, and it seemed like the music was lower, whispers louder. "Rafe, I really need to go to the bathro-."

Not Rafe Cameron, but JJ Maybank.

"Come," He swallowed hard. Your tongue came out of your mouth, licking your lips, even though it didn't work because your mouth was totally dry. "Come back to us." You heard Rafe call your name, and telling JJ to step away from you. "Come back to me, please." You couldn't hide his teary eyes, and neither could you.

"Y/N Y/L/N," Your dad. You flinched when hearing his voice. You avoided JJ's gaze. "Get away from him."

You clutched JJ's hand, lessening his grip on you. Turning around, taking a step to go back to where your parents were looking at you angrily.

"We came for you," His voice made you stop. "We came for you because Sarah told us this morning what was going on. You don't have to do this anymore. No one will do anything to you. You can come back to us. We want you back."

Your father grabbed his keys, knowing that was a warning. It wouldn't be the first time he punched you with those keys between his knuckles to make more damage. "I-I don't want to go back. I'm okay, JJ."

You heard him walk away from you, again. Your back still to him. A shiver ran through your body while staring at your parents. Your dad was smiling victoriously. You shook your head. Now, he was screaming your name. But you were too busy running toward your friends, who turned around. All of them had teary eyes because they thought they lost you.

Kiara was the first one to see you, smiling. Tears wetting her cheeks. Her hand rested on JJ's shoulder, he confused looked at her, then followed her gaze to look at you. Your face was wet, some makeup running down your cheeks. But you looked beautiful. You looked beautiful because you were running back to his arms. When he had you between his arms, he could feel the violent sobs shaking your entire body.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He cried. "You didn't have to be strong. You didn't have to be strong alone. You had us." He whispered. "You have us."

"I'm sorry." You wanted to say so many things, but those were the most important ones. You needed to apologize. Eyes closed while sobbing hysterically.

"Let me see your face," JJ was also crying. He tried to move you apart from his body so he could see your face, but you tightened your arms around him, even your legs. His hands grabbed your butt, keeping your legs around his waist, supporting you. "Let me see your face because I want to kiss you so bad."

And he did. JJ Maybank kissed you like this was a film or a book. He let his lips command yours, and he couldn't hold back when his tongue desperately needed to touch yours. "I love you. It's always been you." You let him know when both of you needed to breathe.

"I love you too," He happily cried. "I'm so in love with you."

The Pogues went close to both of you, gripping their arms around you. Sobbing. Crying. Weeping.

That was the time you wanted to cry in front of JJ, and you did.

[myelocin]

the most beautiful thing | hanamaki t.

synopsis: beautiful, hanamaki takahiro thinks, sees, and feels. in this home, within four walls, with you as his forever and his two children as the sun that shines soft on the vanilla skies he’s loved all his life.

characters: hanamaki takahiro, you (HMMMMMM), your two kids

genre: fluff, domestic!au, parenting!au

wc: 1600+

a/n: hei yes i am ok. i did not just type this in 20 minutes flat because i dreamt of this. i am ok. i swear. plz help. i love him so much. by hanamaki takahiro x reader,, i rlly mean hanamaki takahiro x nicole thank u. 

beautiful, is the word that first flashes in hanamaki takahiro’s mind. 

bare foot against the dark stained wooden kitchen floors, your hair down and a little tangled against the white of his old shirt that fit you just comfortably. he thinks there’s hints of a vanilla sky outside. 

cotton candy pink, lilac, and just the right amounts of blue. he met you under a sky like today’s, he notes to himself with a smile. it’s a little past eight am, where on a normal day you’d be up two hours earlier; you, with a train to catch, and him with customers waiting in front of the shop. 

but the calendar says that today’s sunday. and sunday mornings, takahiro recalls you say, are days for family. 

and back then he remembers that he laughed at your little explanation, thinking that it was just a ploy to get him to stay in bed for a little while longer. back when it was just the two of you in the house above his flower shop. where sunday mornings meant the extra time in the mornings were reserved for morning sex and for talks about love and life alike as you settled in the afterglow. 

but sunday mornings now, he realizes, is this. 

it’s waking up with your side of the bed empty and coming into the kitchen with the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air and the low sizzle of eggs frying in a pan. a little boy, with a head of strawberry brown hair peeking at him from his spot in the table, and his sweet, sweet ten month old baby girl sitting in her high chair with smeared baby food all over her mouth. 

takahiro’s heart swells, because he feels love—before he realizes that more than that, he feels a sense of home too. and even if the feeling had always settled in his chest years ago, it’s in the smallest most unexpected moments where he feels the world’s kindness remind him of its existence.

he knows he’s been in love and been at home when you said yes six years ago; a ring offered by his hands, trembling like the knee he’s leaned down on. then when you kissed him with tears in your eyes after telling him your “i do,” in a voice that assures him your love for him is as real and as raw as the kind he feels for you.

that same year too, when he held the keys to the flower shop he risked his—and frankly a little bit of your—life savings over. your hand, warm and steady against his that trembled with the same intensity from before as he pushed the key in the lock and opened the new chapter of your life together.

where a home, from that time, became the second floor of that same flower shop. photographs lined on the stairwell and a windowsill with the herbs he’s grown in memory of someone he knows you love dearly. where the polaroids you took with him over the years were first hung around the room with little pieces of string and handwritten notes beneath them, before later kept in glass frames and left by the fireplace for those who came to your little world and see.

then five years ago when he he saw the two little lines on a test you planned to keep a surprise for him but ultimately crying with him anyway, because if there was one thing your husband was never good at: it was knocking at the bathroom door before entering. but then again—if there was one thing you were also never good at, it was locking the door when you’re supposed to.

he laughs at the memory everytime because just like that he knows that you two just fit like that. he feels love and home again, as he thinks of your teary smile and the happy crack in your voice as you cried and told him you were going to be a family.

(he held you that night with tears in his own eyes, a few crumbs of fear settling in his heart, but anticipation for the universe’s blessings serving as the adrenaline rush he knew would last him for this lifetime and the next.)

and the rest, takahiro thinks to himself, comes to him in flashes.

the blessing of being able to feel love within home when he first held his son in his hands. the tell tale strawberry brown hair looking like a carbon copy of his own. the freckles across his cheeks that awfully look a lot like the ones he stares at in front of the mirror everyday. but the quirk of his lips looking like yours, because takahiro memorizes the contours of your smile like he knows his loved ones by name.

much like the smile he sees on your youngest daughter’s. where even at ten months old, he can already tell that she’s taking after you a lot more than him. it’s the smile, he recalls his mother tell him, when she first came into the world.

though really, takahiro thinks, it was the hue of her eyes when she first opened them. bright and sparkling as it told him the same sort of stories that you told him all those years ago.

stories about how in life, heartbreak is unavoidable.

how in life, there is as much pain that will be felt as there comes the happiness that lays either before or after it.

but also, as cruel as life is—it can also be so, so kind. the kind of kindness that has you forgetting all the bad that you’ve trudged through, because when you ride that sort of high that life gives you—it truly feels like you’ll soar for eternities that are here and the ones that have still yet to come.

takahiro feels that; every day.

“papa,” he hears. “breakfast!” his son calls.

and so he pushes himself off of the doorframe as he first walks towards you, a kiss pressed to your cheek as the smell of day old roses and rosemary lingers—making you smile.

and as the word beautiful, flashes in his mind for the second time that morning—he knows it isn’t meant for the vanilla skies that swirl slowly outside the kitchen windows. it’s the way you look when you take a seat across him and smile, sipping your cold tea and sighing as if all the world’s problems are rolling right off your shoulders.

the ring, on your left hand’s fourth finger catches the light when you raise the spoon by your daughter’s mouth; golden like the picture frame hanging above fireplace in the living room, with four smiling faces instead of just the two from the polaroids before.

beautiful, life really can be even without the vanilla skies because he knows he has the best that life could ever offer right here. in this little room, the world in his hands, and the promise of heaven’s grace clear as day right in front of his eyes.

“papa,” he hears his eldest call again. takahiro takes a slow sip of his coffee before he turns to his son and smiles. “yep?”

“how do you spell your name?”

your husband doesn’t catch it when you smile, already knowing what he’s about to ask. letting your husband bask in the moment, you turn to face your ten month old daughter who stares back at you with eyes and face identical to your own. she was a messy eater, you observe with a chuckle. she took after her father in the little ways, you suppose.

and she always, always looked the most beautiful around flowers too. the polaroid of her sitting in the counter, next to a handful of roses was the photo she smiled at the widest. under the vanilla skies in that morning you think about how takahiro looks like a different sort of radiant around the flowers too.

“what’s it for?” you hear your husband ask, voice still a little scratchy from sleep.

“it’s for this!” your five year old beams.

takahiro stares at the paper he could only guess is his homework. his last name written next to your son’s giving name, erased pencil marks over his mistake still a little evident on the paper. he smiles as he reads through the little questionnaire, but pauses as he gets to the last part.

“who do you want to be like when you grow up?” it reads, a blank line next to it.

a familiar, welcome feeling thrums in takahiro’s chest again, so he thinks of the word beautiful once more. because life, he thinks, has never been more beautiful than how it looks in this morning.

“papa your naaaaaame.”

he swears that ever since he met you, he falls in love with life more and more every day.  

(he cries to you later that night as he closes the flower shop downstairs for the day. red eyes, and a happy smile in place. you kiss his cheeks and tell him he deserves happiness every day.)

(your son’s homework and doodle of your family next to another one of flowers and rosemarys with a little cross above it is pinned on the fridge later that night.)

you fall asleep with his arms around yours, your kids asleep in the room next to yours.

this, you smile. this is the beautiful part of life.

a/n: rosemary is the herb my mom had on her windowsill. she died before she could plant her herb garden. i always think that makki likes to keep a herb garden so he could feel close to my mom in a way : - )  

[not-close-to-straight]

Random Wanda Vision Thoughts--

Episode 1: I am an emotional bitch crying at Wanda and Vision saying “i do” at the end of episode 1, like can these babies please catch a break? they just want to be happy. 

Also Agnes and the 70′s show mom are my favorite wtf. 

STARK TOASTERS I SEE YOU. 

WHO IS WATCHING THEM WTF 

Episode 2: 

Dottie should die, she seems like the type who needs gently run over by a bus

WHO IS IN THE RADIO

Elizabeth Olsen is so cute in this, absolutely adorable 

IS THAT DAVID SCHWIMMER PLAYING THE PIANO

Vision is drunk from getting gum in his gears, I’m actually cackling right now. 

Tiny bit culty with the “for the children” thing, huh? Yikes

BABY BUMP! 

Some creepo decides to get in on their world and Wanda literally went “i think the fuck not, let’s try this again and this time in technicolor” 

is that the cop who asked out Ant Man on the radio?

The difference in “sitcom” Wanda who is happy in her world and “real life” Wanda when she realizes something isn’t right is honestly astonishing and Grade A Face Acting. See what happens when they let women do more on screen then walk around in tight clothes with full lips parted in a sexy pout? 

Episode 3: 

Seventies Vision’s hair is ENDING ME, I can’t even deal with that. 

IT HAS TO BE DAVID SCHWIMMER except he looks like “russ” from friends instead of “ross” 

Poor Vision is not handling impending fatherhood well 

COMIC BOOK NAME DROP BILLY AND TOMMY I LOVE IT 

Poor pregnancy fritzing Wanda. DID WANDA JUST GLITCH A TIME ERASE AND NOT MEAN TO? Listen, I did not expect to love them as a couple this much. EW HER WATER BROKE OMG 

A STORK 

Oh Wanda, poor baby she’s so afraid, I write way too much fan fiction about how all these characters are secretly terrified to go through life alone to be okay with this. 

Why did I start crying immediately when the babies were born, I’m too emotional for this. She is so beautiful and Vision is so soft meeting his son as himself, oh my gosh. THE TWIN SCREAMS while the other twin comes omg this is Grade A Sitcom bullshit. 

The doctor knows something is Up and so do Herb and Agnes. *don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious*

...have we actually seen Ralph and I’m just blanking on it? WHY DON’T THEY LIKE GERALDINE? WHO IS SHE?

Oh no i’m crying again over pietro and the sokovian lullaby. Don’t let me watch this while I’m PMSing wtf this is torture. GERALDINE KNOWS ABOUT ULTRON

OH SHIT WANDA IS PISSED LOOK AT THAT DANGEROUS LADY. that head tilt is fucking lethal. 

I love agnes oh man. I know because of spoilers she’s something of a bad guy? but I love her

WHAT HAPPENED TO GERALDINE OMG DID WANDA KILL HER

Oh no, not dead. Just kicked tf out of the bubble. I just realized the symbol is for Sword. Is this some sort of experiment to keep Wanda contained post Endgame? I should have read more spoilers, I’m fucking confused. 

Episode 4: OH HOLY SHIT IT’S MONICA RAMBEAU AND IT’S POST EG SNAP OH MY GOSH SHE HAS NO IDEA SHES BEEN GONE FOR FIVE YEARS MY HEART IS BREAKING MY HEART IS BREAKING I CAN’T TAKE IT 

It IS the cop that hit on Ant Man! WHAT DO THEY MEAN WESTVIEW DOESN’T EXIST 

Oh it’s Darcy! Damn straight it’s Dr. Lewis. How very shocking, a woman was the one to show a room full of Ridiculous Men what’s going on?

ZOMBIE VISION OH MY GOD “no we can’t” oh man she is starting to CRACK and Vision knows something is wrong OH NO 

At this point I should point out that I am 1000% surprised at the quality of the show and 1000% pleasantly surprised by how much I’m enjoying it. The bar for Wanda’s character development was literally subterranean, but this is has been frankly sort of amazing?? 

Episode 5

Agnes asking about “taking it from the top” WHAT. I love so much the way the characters “break character” it’s so interesting and well done! WHY IS WANDA LYING TO VISION. 

WHERE IS RALPH

oh my god the babies are children now?? why isn’t agnes noticing?? THEY’RE SO CUTE I COULD CRY ALL OVER AGAIN 

I do not. trust. hayward. Why is he asking about Wandas nickname? Monica knows whats up-- she knows Wanda is grieving and hurting. 

THE VISIONS CORPSE WHAT? WHAT IS WANDA DOING OH MY GOD SHE STOLE VISION. Vision has a living will? Don’t you have to be human for that? Are you telling me the woman that loved Vision would straight up ignore his wish to not be turned into a weapon after his death? I have a hard time with this. 

Oh no Vision is starting to worry me. He’s onto Agnes, he’s noticing Wanda getting careless...the boys are adorable though. Good on Agnes for not even flinching. 

DAMN RIGHT WANDA COULD HAVE TAKEN OUT THANOS LETS HAVE SOME RESPECT PEOPLE. Also, why is Monica being sketchy about Captain Marvel? 

EMAIL ALERT EMAIL ALERT “none of it is real.” oh my god what is happening?!?!

“Is this yours?” OH MY GOD. “This will be your only warning” she is so unafraid and I love her for it. I love her accent coming back when she breaks characters LOOK AT HER TURNING ALL THOSE MEN AROUND I LOVE HER. 

“Fix the dead” oh my god the shock on her face. The absolute irony of her trying to tell her boys there’s rules when she’s writing the playbook as she goes. Oh my god. “Can’t I?” Jesus, then the credits start rolling because she wants the episode to be over but Vision won’t let her OH MY GOD. My heart is breaking

WHAT DOES IT MEAN SHE DOESN’T KNOW 

SHE RECAST PIETRO

Episode 6

OOOOH look at the classic costumes! Pietro is slaying me. I mean, it’s the wrong pietro but its still very funny. The way Vision calls her out and then plays it off is.... spooky. She is fully aware thats not her brother. “Be good.” holy shit. 

Look at me not liking Hayward again. “which one is the sassy best friend” i feel like that’s....racist. “don’t use the last five years as an excuse to be a coward” DRAG HIM SIS 

Listen Uncle Pietro being a little shit head is my favorite. I use the OG Pietro in my fics but this one is hilarious. 

Vision lied about being on duty? Yikes. The one house where people are stuck in a loop? YIKES. Its crazy how everyone is starting to be super aware of Wanda pulling the strings--MAGIC CHILD OMG. 

Whats past ellis avenue? Is that the limit of Wanda’s powers? I don’t super understand how Vision has his powers if he’s technically dead. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE AVENGERS ARE she really just gave him enough life to exist just barely. Agnes knows he’s dead so she wasn’t snapped??

Agnes’s witchy laugh while dressed like a witch is legit awesome. We call that FOREEEEEEEEESHADOWING! Oh and there’s Ellis Ave. Got it. 

Monica’s blood is changed?? Idk how to feel about Black Character willing to die for White Charaxter? I mean I know Wanda should be Jewish but still. Uncomfortably close to icky tropes but maybe I’m reading too far into it.

YIKES where was she hiding the kids till now? How’d she do all this? “I’m not a stranger or your husband” YIKES.

OH MY GOD DEAD PIETRO

OH MY GOD VISION STAY IN THE BUBBLE SOMEONE SAVE HIM SAVE HIM OMG BILLY CAN HEAR HIS DADDY DYING SAVE HIM

“The people need help” oh Vision you are truly Worthy

She literally expanded her world to save him omg

DARCY WHERED YOU GO geez look at power of this girls mind it’s about damn time we got a glimpse at just how intense her powers are

Season 7

Ok is this like a reality show? Oh man she is GLITCHING.

Oh no it’s just Wanda not Wanda vision cos she feels alone? So sad. She really is losing it isn’t she and not in a “lol how awkward” sortnof way but in that truthful hard to watch way that so many of us feel when we’re at the breaking point

“I actually did bite a kid once” I literally ugly laughed right there

I KNEW I COULDNT TRUST HAYWOOD

It’s so nice to see Darcy used in a real way. Her character was totally wasted in Thor

The way Wandas little interviews get more and more sad :(

Uhhh what does that mean Agnes is quiet on the inside? Again with the Ralph thing. I’m starting to think there’s no Ralph at all??

LOOK AT THIS GIRL WITH HER SPACE ROVER . She’s got that same look of determination her mama had. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HER WHY ARE HER EYES BLUE

“....soooo Wanda killed me?” I’m ugly laughing again and I shouldn’t be but the comedic delivery is excellent. The whole “office” vibe with the cameras is making an otherwise devastating episode fairly funny

LOOK AT THIS GIRL STANDING UP TO WANDA we love a sharp cheekbones beauty

“Maybe I already am” I mean, I would have loved to hear that post Ultron when for some reason everyone blamed Tony for everything?? But hearing it now is just horrifying and I hate it

Oh vision deciding to go get to his wife is beautiful.

WHERE ARE THE BABIES WHERE ARE THE BOYS OH MY GOD IM FREAKING OUT WHAT BASEMENT THATS NEVER GOOD

Uh hey what the fuck is up with Agness creepy basement of horrors??

AGATHA HARKNESS OH MY GOD

This song is a BOP wtf she deserves an Emmy for this shit

Snoopers gonna snoop what?

Episode 8

Of course it’s Salem, where else would a witch story start

“They simply bent to my power” What a queen

lmaoooo THAT ACCENT COMES AND GOES Agatha really said what we’ve all been thinking

Wait so Wandas power drew Agatha in? I thought maybe Agatha trapped her here?? SHE DOESNT KNOW WHAT WANDA IS

THE BABIES

Oh ouch this trip down memory lane is gonna hurt me isn’t it?

Oh no her mama I’m dying inside send help. The TV sitcoms. Oh my god is this her last memory before her parents died. HELP ME I CANT WATCH THIS

Oh my god, she had powers when she was little?? SHES NOT AN EXPERIMENT???

Listen I generally think telling a story retroactively is lazy writing? Just give us a well developed story the first time?? But this is BRUTAL and brutally well done.

SHE SAW HERSELF IN THE MIND STONE???

Would it have been so difficult for them to give us even a PEEK at this version of wanda vision in CACW? Marvel has the worst habit of just popping up like “oh hey these two love each other all the sudden with no real reason for it” but this is wonderful. So much character development.

Oh listen to this woman begging to be able to bury her husband omg. WAIT SO SHE DIDNT BREAK IN AND TAKE HIM?? WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO VISION?? DID HE PUSH HER INTO THIS PSYCHOTIC BREAK?? HE TOTALLY PLAYED HER INTO RECREATING VISION SHE JUST WANTED CLOSURE. He literally showed her visions dismembered corpse and said “say goodbye” I will kill this dude wtf

“I can’t feel you” guys I have to pause this so I can cry for a minute

“I can’t feel you” and then she leaves. Totally alone in the world. My heart is an empty husk.

Why the house though? Why west view?

OH FUCK ME UP ARE YOU KIDDING ME VISION WAS GOING TO BUILD THEM A HOUSE I CANT TAKE THIS ANYMORE

It’s not even real vision? Just the projection of her broken heart? “Welcome home” I am broken. Physically broken.

CHAOS MAGIC

SCARLET WITCH

I CANNOT

OH MY GOD WHITE VISION??? NO NO NO

[random-stories]

Alex’s Journey Part 4

{~Alexi's PoV~}

I started walking home with Alex, when I saw our teacher walk up to him. He told me to carry on walking, so I did. 'He wants to have a chat with me, wait for me at home.' I nodded, I continued walking until I reached home, I told Lex who told mom and dad. We waited for hours for them to come. Alex called me down, since I was listening to music in my room, seems like the new teacher was Alex's dad, which meant he was a God. Mom, him and I went to chat in the kitchen.

"What happened?" I said, in a monotone voice. "You mean in our world," he said. I nodded.

"I'll start from the start, my husband and I were living here on earth but we felt as though we were different because we were born with our powers, he was accepted but I was an outcast. My mother hated me and my father left, my sister was the only thing I had until she died in a car crash. My younger brother disliked me. We eventually met in high school and got jobs, we moved in and we adopted two kids, Alex and Catherine. And later adopted Kat. Cath and Alex were two similar orphans that had the same birthday, similar looks but completely different parents. Alex's parents had abandoned him because of his powers while Catherine's parents had died trying to protect Cath from dangers. When Alex and Cath were teens and Kat was about ten, we were chosen to be gods. Our kids were able to visit us in our world or stay with us, they chose to stay with us. Alex's friends were also chosen to be children for some gods because of their similar powers. About 329 years later or 16 years ago, a war started between the gods living at the top and the gods living at the bottom. The war ended 2 years ago, I've been traveling to find my kids since they all came to your world. My husband went missing and he still hasn't been found." I was shocked and so was mom.

"Dad!!!" Alex called. "I think I found Kat and Catherine. He went out, and we followed. In the living room, we saw 2 girls hugging Alex, as well as four other people, two boys and two girls. One older and looking exactly like him, that was Catherine and there was a shorter one, that was Kat. Lex woke up, "Who are they?" She said.

"We were waiting for you to wake up. Anyways, I'm Mike, the paternal/ maternal figure of the book. That's Bryan, the teen, those two are Catherine and Kat and these two are Lia, the supporter and Mia, the child. Catherine and Kat are Alex's two sisters, Catherine being a minute older and Kat is four years younger." Mike said.

Kat broke away "Aww, Kat its been years since I last saw you." Alex said. "Well, I missed you too, Dad," she said. Catherine started laughing while Alex pouted. Kat wore a pinkish-purplish top with jeans and black shoes, while Catherine wore a rainbow dress with white socks and black shoes. They were the complete opposite. "This is mom, father, Lex and Alexi." Alex said. "Hello." I said.

{~Catherine PoV~}

Kat and I knocked on the house, we saw dad go into. "Hello." I said. Alex opened the door. "Come in," he said. He didn't even look at us, we went inside to see an old man and a female asleep on the coach, she looked younger than Alex. Alex's friends came in. "Hello, Cath, Kat and Alex," Mike said. "Hello, Mike, Bryan, Mia and Lia." I said.

Kat and I were finally able to leave our dreadful house, mother would die soon and we didn't want to be there for it. Alex called for dad. We obviously hugged, it had been sixteen years since we were last together. Obviously Kat broke the hug and said something that made us laugh. Alex went to go hug his friends, he liked hugs and so do I. I could sense the death of the female that's asleep, soon. She was called Lex, and she soon woke.

Lex was wearing a light pink dress with knee high socks and a pair of pink sandals, Alexi was wearing a yellow top that said "Don't care", which I couldn't help but smile about, blue skirt and orange socks, red sandals.

Papa is missing, Alex and Kat don't know this but I think they should.

{~Olivia's PoV~}

It was the morning, when I was found by the person who would help me. I ran away from her, the person who said I was a freak, a useless person, a monster.

My family consisted of mom, dad left, big sister died in a car crash, older brother went missing a few days before I was born and big brother was with me until someone killed him, while we were running away. I tried to save him, but I couldn't he died there and I was useless to him.

So I ran and ran, I never looked back. I hid under a bridge that was on top if a river. I, eventually, fell asleep only to be woken up by 'him'.

He woke me up and asked if I would want to live with him. I obviously said no, he was a stranger and I don't know him. He pulled me up, but I couldn't stand because of how much I ran, yesterday. I fell but he caught me. He carried me to his house and introduced me to his twin sister, Catherine, his younger sister, Kat and his two dad.

I didn't mind this because I was also gay, my mom would've have despised it and say it's against her religion who think about how you're going to get children. I erased her memories of me and only me. She doesn't even know that big Bro has died.

She doesn't know I've got a girlfriend in school. The same school which she called a homophobic school. Most of the students didn't mind but the teachers wanted to expel me for it.

I lived with them until the war broke out, not knowing that I was somehow related to it because at that time I didn't know I was a god. Alex added new memories just so I could fit in. The abandoned mansion is where we 'live' now. It's not too bad, but things keep moving, like some of the kitchen utensils keep being moved to the living or the sitting room, some cabinets keep opening and closing, really loudly. Mike and I went to go check it out but no one was there. We asked around before Alex wanted Mike to go find Catherine and Kat to bring them to his house. I talked to the people here and found someone named Jane, she was a witch (she had powers that were like witches) trying to find her adopted daughter. I continued the search, we still haven't found her daughter, I learned that her name is Wendy and Wendy had a brother, named North. We spent the next few hours looking for them by ourselves, before meeting up.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beginning: Part 1

Next: Coming soon

[batskulldrag]

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

Chapter Ten: Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons

once more I will state that I have no OC’. s everyone is either a youtuber or a character from 2017′s dream daddy. I will ask that you check out Jenna Marbles’ video ‘making corn on the cob but instead of the corn bone it’s a hotdog’ it’s not nessarry, but it is funny.

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand as he looked around the room. It was nice, it looked like every kid’s dream room. But the idea of being evaluated was crushing the air out of his lungs. Granted, E. S. had suggested a psych evaluation for them to boost their chances in court, and he did want some parenting advice. So, there they were in Picani’s office, waiting.

He stole a glance at Logan. His husband’s once stoic expression now a thin veil to mask resentment. Patton could almost see every memory of every doctor he was dragged to so his parents could cure him. Logan squeezed the arm rest until his knuckles were white and the bones threatened to pop out.

“It’s ok.” Patton rubbed his shoulder gently. “This time is going to be different. No one wants to cure you. We’re just gonna talk to him. There’s nothing wrong with you. Remember that.”

Logan silently slid his arm around Patton and held him close. Patton rested his head on Logan’s shoulder and listened to his heartbeat. It was slowing down and his own heart started mimicking the calmer rhythm.

The door opened and a cheerful man with curly blond hair and a tan cardigan danced in vocalizing the Loony Toon’s theme song. Ok, so Picani was definitely not a stuffed shirt. This would be nice.

“So, you’re Patton and Logan.” Emile smiled. “We met a few times before.”

“Virgil’s doing a lot better.” Patton chirped. “They’re taking the bandages off soon.”

“That’s good. Has he adjusted any since last week?”

“A little. He’s not as skittish.” Patton smiled. “I’ve been taking him to work with me since I had to go back to the library.”

“That should be a good way to keep his mind off things.” Emile pondered. “Maybe they’ll let him volunteer there. It’s good to keep busy.”

“Today, he read to the kids.” Logan added. “I think some interaction with people closer to his peer group is doing him good.”

“That is awesome news.” Emile smiled and put his hands together. “But now I think it’s time to talk about you two. ‘Sup?’”

“Our lawyer said that it would help us if we had psychological evaluations.” Logan responded. “We all suspect that Payton might try to use certain things against us.”

“Such as…” Emile led.

“For starters I have Asperger’s syndrome. One might argue that it would make me unfit to raise a child.”

“The usual ‘they can’t feel empathy’ song and dance?”

“No, there hasn’t been any singing.”

“It’s a metaphor sweetie.” Patton rubbed his hand.

“Oh.” Logan looked away. “Right.”

“So, where on the spectrum are you?” Emile asked. “You seem really high functioning.”

“I am high functioning. Mainly, I can’t read emotions, I don’t understand metaphors or sarcasm, flashing lights give me migraines, I have a noise sensitivity and I get intensely nervous around people. And I don’t like most sweet foods. They hurt my mouth.”

“How about routines?” Emile continued.

“I have routines, but I don’t impose them on other people. I like to stick to a schedule; to do things in a certain order. But I don’t have an episode if the schedule is disrupted.”

“What normally triggers one?”

“Usually things build up. My most recent episode was a two weeks ago when Roman and I were trying to build a futon without instructions.”

“Why without instructions?”

“They were lost long ago. It was maddening.”

“That.” Emile pointed at them. “Would drive anyone crazy. So, I don’t really see any reason why you can’t adopt Virgil with Patton. Asperger’s isn’t exactly the life ruining hinderance that everyone thinks it is.”

Patton nuzzled up to Logan.

“See. It’s fine.”

Emile smiled at them.

“It’s nice to see a happy couple in here.” He sighed. “I do a lot of couple’s therapy.”

“Logan and I are happy.” Patton confirmed. “We’re almost to out ten-year anniversary.”

“That’s quite the milestone. How’d you two meet?” he leaned forward.

“I had to go to him for tutoring, and we just clicked. Logan proposed while we were in college and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“We were more or less inseparable before that.” Logan interjected. “I just decided to make it official.”

“You’re a Garnet.” Emile clasped his hands to his heart.

“Like from Steven Universe?” Patton asked excitedly.

“Exactly, you two have found your balance and have a solid relationship.”

“That is fair.” Logan looked up. “Most of our arguments did consist of the fact that I can be stoic, and Patton can be over passionate. Exactly like Ruby and Sapphire.”

“That is awesome.” Emile smiled. “And having a stable marriage is usually important if you want to adopt.”

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand and beamed up at him from his shoulder. Logan returned a smile.

“So, what other things are on your minds?” Emile pointed his folded hands at them. “We’re in the judgement free zone here.”

“Well,” Patton rubbed his arm and looked at Logan. “I was on antidepressants for a while after my mom died. And I kind of still am on the medication. I was really out of it.”

“How old were you when she passed away?”

“I had to be about nineteen or twenty.”

“What happened to her?” He asked gently.

“She had ALS.” Patton looked at the floor to hide his tears, why was he still crying after all these years? “She lasted eight months.”

Eight months? That was it? He could have sworn that it was longer.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” He handed them a box of tissues.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I still did this.” Patton dabbed his eyes. “It’s been twelve years.”

“If they put you on antidepressants that means that it must have hit you pretty hard. Watching family die, especially from something that awful can really take its toll. There’s nothing wrong with how you feel, or how long you feel it. And moms are important, losing one is a blow no matter how old they are.”

“It hit me really hard.” Patton pressed himself into Logan, who started petting his hair. “I was sleepwalking, one night I woke up in the parking lot of the hospital because I thought I was taking mom to the doctor. I used to do the dishes in my sleep.”

“Was it just you, taking care of her?” Emile squinted. “What about your brother?”

“Payton was in college too. He didn’t want anything to do with it.” Logan answered, still petting Patton.

“I told you I get why he didn’t want to be there.”

“Don’t make excuses for him, you know that’s not why he avoided the house.”

“Hey, don’t unfuse over this.” Emile offered hesitantly.

“Logan and Roman helped a lot during all that. With Mom and Virgil.”

“Virgil was with you?”

“He was just a baby. Mom was diagnosed a few months before his first birthday.”

“And Payton left him with you? Just like that? Just like Pink leaving Spinel in the garden?”

“If Payton was a good father, we wouldn’t be here.” Patton pulled out another tissue. “I don’t wanna talk about my brother.”

“Alright, we’ll just zap those thoughts with the memory eraser.” Emile pretended to zap himself with a ray gun. “Go on with your story.”

“Well, I still walked in my sleep even after mom died. And I lost my appetite and I lost interest in my job and all my classes. It was like I was dead. I went numb.”

“Do you know why?”

“I…” Patton clenched his fists against his knees. “I was relieved when she died, and I couldn’t handle feeling like that. Am I a terrible person?”

“That’s a normal reaction.” Emile said plainly. He said it as if it were a fact that he just knew. Like there was no doubt about its validity.

“What?” Patton looked up at him reeling from the whiplash that comment gave him.

“Your mother, someone you loved died in front of you. And you already said that it took a long time. Anyone would be relieved for that to be over. Like when they bubbled the cluster, they were relieved that the shards weren’t suffering anymore. And that’s normal. That, and the stress it was putting on you was over, and I know you think that sounds awful but it’s natural to be relieved. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“No?”

“No.”

Patton nestled closer to Logan. Logan hid it well, but Patton knew that he had just been vindicated and was thrilled. Patton accepted defeat contentedly and with guilt free relief.

“Logan was there the whole time.” Patton sighed. “All through it. He even got me to go to therapy.”

“Was Logan living with you at the time?” Emile asked. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Ruby and Sapphire were fused for a few thousand years before they got married. I was just wondering if he moved in to help with your mom.���

“My parents threw me out of the house after they found out I was gay.” Logan said blankly, but he was squeezing the couch arm again. His bones turned back up to say hello. “After they.” He sighed. “After they beat me severely.”

“Oh.” Emile said sadly. “I’m so sorry. Were they always like that?”

“The statistics of autistic children who are abused by their parents would break you.” Logan looked up at the ceiling.

“Yes then?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever get help after you left your parents?”

“Yes, I’ve worked through my issues with them. And I don’t plan on letting them back into my life any time soon.”

“That’s fair.” Emile nodded. “They sound like a toxic influence.”

“I will consider forgiving them if they apologize.” Logan still looked at the ceiling. “And on no other conditions do I hold them any loyalty.”

“Well, last thing you need is your own abusive parents showing up when you’re trying to adopt.” Emile agreed. “And you shouldn’t forgive people who are going to continue to be a bad influence on your life.”

“I thought there was going to be more, I don’t know,” Logan looked back down. “More appeals for us to change our ways. Some form of judgement or a quote unquote cure.”

“Nah, you guys are good.” Emile smiled. “You can keep up therapy if you just wanna talk, but I don’t really have anything new to tell you.”

“This is it?” Logan gestured vaguely at the room.

“You’ve been on that couch before, haven’t you?”

“My parents wanted a cure. I’ve seen psychologists, psychiatrists, doctors, holistic physicians, herb peddlers, and a neurosurgeon.”

“Wow,” Emile nodded. “That is one expensive wild goose chase. How do you feel about your Asperger’s now?”

“It’s a part of who I am. It took me a long time to realize it wasn’t a horrible disease. And my parents dragging me to a new doctor every week didn’t help. They didn’t help.”

Patton put his arms around him and just hung there silently.

“Is any of this going to keep us from getting custody of Virgil?” Logan sighed.

“Well, your parents being abusive could bring up a ‘cycle of abuse’ argument, but I don’t think it’ll go anywhere. Aside from that, Asperger’s and situational depression shouldn’t stop you. Neither of you are violent or incapable of taking care of yourselves or a child. And you’ve already done a great job with Virgil so far. You’re made of love, and it’s stronger than him.”

“I wanna introduce you to our roommate sometime.” Patton said happily. “I think you’d be friends.”  

#             #             #

               The day of the barbeque rolled around and Patton, Logan and Roman were eagerly getting ready.

               “Let’s see him one-up this.” Roman said sternly, holding up a watermelon sculpture.

               The rind had been picked clean and gently sculpted into a frog with melon balls filling up his body and coming out of his mouth. Impressive was an understatement.

               “Right.” Logan sighed. “Remember what I said about competing with Brian. Leave Virgil out of it. He’s had enough pressure in his life as it is.”

               “I would never do anything to hurt our emo nightmare.” Roman was dead serious. “From now on Brian has to step to me. And anyone who wants our emo has to step to me as well.”

               “And me.” Patton clenched his fist.

               “We’re doing Lord of The Rings now?” Logan was not amused. “And me.”

               With that said a loud thud came from upstairs. All three of them had the same thought and ran upstairs. Reaching the door first, Logan knocked. But Patton had different ideas and burst into the room like a firefighter. Virgil was pulling himself off the floor with his jeans tangled up around his ankles and his cast shoved through one of the holes in the knee. The shock of Patton and Co’s sudden arrival knocked him back down.

               “Can I help you?” Virgil asked flatly, pulling his t-shirt down over his boxers.

               “Sorry,” Patton backed out of the room quickly. “We heard you fall and wanted to make sure you were ok.”

               “I’m ok. My stupid cast got stuck is all.”

               “Do you need help?”

               “Nope, I’m good.”

               “Ok, we’re ready as soon as you are.”

               “Cool, just let me get my pants on.”

               “Ok.” Patton closed the door and turned to the other two. “Am I a helicopter parent?”

               “No, I don’t think so.” Logan squinted as he thought. “Just be sure of boundaries. Don’t make a habit of bursting into his room. That is his space, and we want him to know we won’t violate it.”

               “And I want you to know that it isn’t soundproof.” Virgil opened the door and walked out, smiling at his own joke.

                                                                               #             #             #  

               Patton had his arm around Virgil the entire walk over. Admittedly, Virgil was happy both for the attention and the extra help walking. He wasn’t quite used to this walking cast, and he was still upset that he couldn’t keep the painted one. Sure, it smelled like an old band aid that crawled out of a sewer full of dead possums, but it was still cool on the outside. Maybe they could paint this one.

               Patton led him over to the food table and gingerly set down a tray of peanut blossoms. He pulled two off the plate with a flourish, handed one to Virgil and kept the other.

               “Clinkies.” He beamed, holding his cookie to Virgil’s.

               “Clinkies.” Virgil agreed, tapping the cookies together and shoving his entire cookie in his mouth.

               Roman set his melon frog down on the table and whispered to it.

               “Ok melon frog, this is what you trained for. This is your time. You don’t be scared. I trained you better than that. I love you, melon frog.”

               “You two need a moment alone?” Virgil smiled.

               “No.” Roman turned quickly, holding his forearm to his forehead. “it’s better this way. Long goodbyes would only make me weep.”

               “Dude, extra is a word they made up just so they could describe you.”

               “It is.” Roman ruffled his hair. Were they all just going to do that from now on?

               “Jenna!” Patton yipped, holding out his arms.

               A short woman with blond hair that showed dark brown at the roots ran over and hugged him. Two Italian grey hounds were at her heels keeping up surprisingly well. Virgil lost all interest in people and sat down to play with the dogs. They immediately started licking him and climbing him for food.

               “Where were you, beech?” Jenna asked. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

               “Family stuff.” Patton smiled and tiled his head towards Virgil. He turned his attention. “Virgil, this is our friend Jenna.”

               “Hi, I love your dogs.” Virgil chirped, strangely comforted by the mini dogs who were stomping the hell out of his every lower extremity.

               In response the grey dog started whining as if he were being tortured.

               “I didn’t do anything!” Virgil panicked.

               “Kermit, shut up.” Jenna scolded her dog, “He just does that.” She dismissed.

               Patton looked around with a look of concerned horror.

               “No Marble?” He said fearfully.

               “What? Beech am I mourning?” Jenna pointed to herself. “No, Marble is inside. He didn’t want to come out and mingle.”

               “What’s this one’s name?” Virgil asked, giving the tan doggo vigorous scratches as she wagged her tail at a mile a minute.

               “That one’s Peach-y girl.” Jenna baby talked at the dog, who somehow wagged her tail faster.

               Peach bolted off his lap, ran in a wide, happy circle and trampled back onto him.

               “So, how do you like the neighborhood so far?” Jenna asked.

               “It’s nice.” Virgil moved his head to keep Peach from licking the inside of his mouth. “I haven’t met too many people though.”

               “Well.” She gestured at the crowded yard. “That’s gonna change.”

               Jenna darted off to greet more guests and the dogs followed her. Darn. Virgil looked around tensely. There were a lot of people. Did they know? Were they going to bring it up? Were they going to ask? Were they going to take sides? Whose side would they be on?

               Slowly it became reality that he couldn’t just sit here until someone needed a prop and then just go back to his seat. What was he supposed to do? How did people act at things like this? He’d never been to anything so casual. Was he supposed to play with the other kids? Talk to the adults? Eat? Was he supposed to eat? Was it time to eat? Where were the dogs? Where was Patton? Where was he?

               “Ok kiddo,” Patton, it was really Patton, he was back. “Jenna and Julian are vegans, so there’s a lot of vegetables. But they’re good. Both of them are awesome cooks.”

               Patton set a paper plate full of food on his lap and sat down next to him.

               “She didn’t say she was a vegan while I was talking to her.” Virgil looked for Jenna in the crowd.

               “They’re not preachy about it.”

               “Cool.”

               “And plenty of other people brought meat.”

               Virgil took a bite of what he thought was pulled pork and spit it out immediately.

               “Is this?” He rubbed the seasoning off and saw that it was yellow. “This is a banana peel!”

               “What?” Patton took a taste and grimaced. “That is! Barbra must have brought it.”

               “Is she a raccoon?”

               “Wait here.” Patton stood up and walked over to the ‘pulled pork’ dish.

               He looked around and quickly set the dish on the grass. He made a few beckoning gestures and a mastiff ran at him and started inhaling the banana abomination. He pet the bear sized creature contentedly and strolled back to their spot.

               Having run out of food, Bear Dog lumbered over to them. Virgil tried to react in time but before he could, Bear Dog had his entire plate in its mouth. Plate and all, it ate everything.

               “Countess, no.” Patton ordered. “That wasn’t for you!”

               Countess smacked her lips and started licking Virgil’s face. He silently accepted that he would die by dog smothering and decided that was indeed how he wanted to go.

               “No.” Logan showed up out of nowhere and tried to nervously shoo the dog away. “No, shoo. Get away from him.”

               “I’m ok Uncle Logan.” Virgil wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck.

               Logan stared anxiously. His every muscle was tensed at the dog’s presence.

               So, Uncle Logan is afraid of dogs. I wonder why.

               “OK friend.” Virgil ruffled the dog’s fur. “Go play with someone else! Go play!”

               Countess zoomed away, no doubt measuring on the Richter scale. She would cause tidal waves in her wake. Tidal waves of drool.

               “I’ll get you a new plate.” Patton pushed himself off the ground. He paused and suddenly lit up. “Dodie!” He waved happily in someone’s direction. “Come meet the baby!”

               “Does he mean me?” Virgil looked to Logan for help.

               “I believe you’re about to experience an equivalent to women passing a newborn around for everyone to hold.” Logan raised an eyebrow. “Patton is very excited.”

               Patton scampered over with the tiniest morsel of a woman. This girl, who Virgil assumed was an adult had long brown hair and a young face. She could probably fit in a backpack.

               “This is Virgil.” Patton gestured eagerly. “Virgil, this is our friend, Dodie.”

               “Hello.” She chirped with an equally tiny voice nestled in an English accent.

               “Hi.” Virgil looked between the three adults.

               “I trust you’re adjusting to all the Patton hugs?” Dodie smiled. “It’s sometimes hard if you don’t like cuddles.”

               “I’m getting used to it.” Virgil smiled back. There was no way she’d hurt him, right?

               “Who doesn’t like cuddles?” Patton asked in surprise. “Cuddles are the best!”

               Dodie and Logan both laughed.

               “Virgil, they’re laughing at me.” Patton protested. “They’re making fun of my Patton-ted hugs.”

               “Did you just make a pun with your name?” Logan sighed.

               “Yeppers. You deserve a Patton the back for guessing that one.”

               “This is what my life has become.” Logan rubbed his temples.

               “Your name is a pun, Logan.” Patton put a hand on his shoulder.

               “Falsehood.” Logan snapped quickly.

               “It’s true honey, your name is Logan Berry. Like loganberries.”

               “I may scream.”

               “But can’t.” Patton added. “Your volume is too low-gun.”

               “You’re dead to me.”

               “I love you.” Patton wrapped his arms around him.

               Logan sighed and grabbed one of Patton’s hands.

               “Why are you like this?” Logan looked back at him.

               “God owed me a favor.” Patton pressed his cheek to Logan’s.

               Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at that. The sheer amount of confidence in that phrase was a power move for the ages. No one could top that.

               “You call yourself a catholic.” Logan said harshly.

               “No, I call myself Patton.”  

               “That one’s on me.”

               “Uncle Patton never said he was catholic.” Virgil looked up at them.

               Could this be it? The explanation. Could a stern religious upbringing have warped his father into a cruel person? And could that same life have also turned Patton into a soft puppy dog of a person?

               “Yeah, we were raised catholic.” Patton shrugged. “But mom was never too strict with it. She even ended up getting divorced, so, I guess we weren’t that religious. We didn’t even eat fish that often.”

               Virgil deflated. The explanation that he wanted, that he needed. The explanation that he deserved! Once again, it had slipped through his fingers. He saw red for a second. What made a monster? What made his father? Had a loving, supportive home really churned out that bastard? What the hell happened? It didn’t fit!

               He looked up at his uncles. Logan had come from the sort of home that Payton described to his voters, and he was a stand-up guy. Happily married despite his homophobic parents and willing to pull some strange kid off the streets and let him live in his house. And all in all, Logan would be a great dad. Were Logan and Payton just products of their environments in a different way? Did each of them just choose to defy their own upbringing? What made Payton decide to turn the other way? Hell, for that matter what made Logan?

               “Virgil, we can get you a chair if you don’t want to sit on the grass.” Logan shattered his concentration.

               “I’m good.” Virgil answered once the shock wore off.

               This! This is exactly what I am talking about!

               “Here you go.” Patton put another paper plate in his hands and kissed him on the forehead. “And this is for you, not the puppers.”

               “I tried to keep it away from her.” Virgil took the plate. “She was just too fast.”

               “I know.” Patton ruffled his hair. “Once you’ve eaten why don’t you go introduce yourself to the other kiddos? Maybe you can make some friends.”

               “Sure.” Virgil shoved an entire brownie in his mouth. For some ungodly reason it was spicy.

               Now beginning to think that no one in this cul-de-sac could cook, and not wanting to look rude Virgil swallowed the brownie. His eyes watered and his mouth tasted like a used napkin from an Italian restaurant. He ran his tongue across his teeth and found what was left of dried leaves stuck to his gums. He spat them out on the grass.

               Virgil glanced up at Patton, who also had a brownie. Maybe it was just him, maybe he just didn’t like sweets. He observed Patton intensely. Patton took a bite out of his pastry and a look of confused disappointment swept over his face. He reluctantly swallowed and set the remaining brownie on the grass.

               “I think someone put oregano in those.” Patton coughed.

               “Barbra again?” Logan questioned.

               “No, she doesn’t use sugar.” Patton rubbed his chin. “Let’s search out the culprit.”

               “Sure, why not?” Logan shrugged.

               “Ok, Virgil, if you need us, we’ll be nearby.” Patton patted him on the head.

               “I didn’t think you were gonna abandon me.”

               “Ok, just yell for us or Roman if you need us.”

               “Cool.” Virgil chanced a corncob. Surely plain vegetables couldn’t surprise him.

There was a hotdog in it.

               As soon as his uncles were out of sight Virgil set his plate on the ground. The dogs could have it. Desperately confused, he lay down on his side and thought. The pork was a banana peel, the brownies were made with oregano and the corn, which he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how, had a hotdog in the center instead of a corn cob.

               “If this is weird, I swear to god…” Virgil picked up one of Roman’s watermelon balls.

               Sweet rapture, it was just watermelon. He all but wept tears of relief. And had his foot not been in a cast he would have danced.

               “So,” A disinterested voice interrupted him. “You’re the new kid.”

               Virgil looked up and saw the single coolest person in the known universe. There before him was a man of about thirteen clad in baggy jeans that were held up by one belt and adorned with two more. A chain hung from one belt that trailed down into his pocket. He wore a legion of black rubber and leather bracelets that accented his MSI t-shirt. His judgmental look was emphasized by two eyebrow piercings and three small hoop earrings in his ear cartilage. He tilted his head to show off the half-shaved half long look his dyed grey hair had been styled in. It was notably uneven, he must have done it himself. What a legend.

               “Maybe.” Virgil tried to play it cool as he wiped watermelon juice off his chin. “I’m new here, but in other places I’ve live many lifetimes.”

               “Cool.” The legend accepted him. This was a glorious day. “My dad wanted me to introduce myself to you.”

               Man, doesn’t that just figure? I should’ve known that this icon wouldn’t just talk to me for the hell of it.

               “Cool, I’m Virgil.” He tried to sound like he wasn’t drooling over this guy’s look. “I’m named after hell’s tour guide.”

               “I’m Lucian.” He bested him with a way cooler name. “So, you’re living with Patton and Logan?”

               Wait, I can just call adults by their first names?

               “Yeah, they’re cool.”

               I think.

               Lucian scoffed. Evidently Patton and Logan weren’t cool. Virgil looked around a single idea was creeping up on him. And that was the idea that this dude may be here to torture him. He looked around for Patton, maybe he was within earshot. But if he yelled for Patton he’d be ‘that kid’ and so far, that was one of the few things he hadn’t been yet.

               No, mostly he was just that idiot who still wet the bed, and wasn’t that so fucking funny? He had also had a few panic attacks, one on stage. There weren’t many people in his corner.

               “Anyway…” Virgil said awkwardly, still trying to gauge if this guy wanted to attack him or not. “Are there any other cool guys here or is it just you?”

               “I’m pretty much the only cool guy in the neighborhood. And, like the only other dude.”

               At that Virgil looked around the yard. Lucian was right, most of the people had daughters. From the looks of things, they were they only guys there. Another observation was that a lot of the parents seemed to be single. That or they were all in gay relationships like his uncles were. Was this a gay community? A gay-borhood?

               “Wanna see my scars?” Virgil offered blankly.

               “Sure.” Lucian seemed taken aback.

               Virgil’s hands weren’t in as bad shape as before. But they were still messed up. The skin had stiffened up, making it difficult to open and close his hands still. And his palms currently looked like melted plastic with massive blisters jutting up out of them. He had band aids on both thumbs and his left index finger to cover up the missing nails. And finally, there was a very faint ribbing pattern in the center of his palms. Left over from the desk lamp he had tried to bust his window with.

               Lucian stared at his hands with a dismayed look of revolution and terror.

               “Geeze dude.” He gagged. “How long were you trapped in there?”

               “I don’t know. I left my stopwatch behind.” Virgil shrugged.

               Lucian gave a respectful scoff at the joke.

               “So, do a lot of people know about the…” Virgil struggled to do air quotes. “Fire?”

               “Yeah, my dad told me. Then he told me not to bring it up. I mean, like, why tell me if I have to act like I don’t know?”

               Virgil chewed on one of his bandages, he was debating running away from this conversation. The god of coolness knew that he used to be his dad’s punching bag and that wasn’t exactly ideal. He’d prefer for that not to have happened. Fight or flight was kicking in, but he couldn’t exactly fight a topic.

               “Whatever.” He tried to play it off. “So, do you go to school nearby?”

               “Yeah.”

               Ok, let’s try something that will get me a better answer.

               “Did you eat any of the food yet?”

               “No.”

               “Ok, because it’s all not what it’s supposed to be.”

               “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucian squinted.

               “It means I ate corn of the cob and found a hotdog in it.” Virgil held up the offending vegetable as proof. “Exhibit A.”

               “What the fuck?” Lucian snatched it away and looked at it closely. “What the hell? There’s a hot dog in here! How? Why? The fuck?”

               “I know right? And there was pulled pork that turned out to be a banana peel, and someone made brownies with oregano in them.”

               “Geeze, these cookouts get weirder every time.” Lucian sneered.

               “Do you have a lot of these around here?”

               “Sure, Jenna and Julian love to do weird things like this. And Brain is always ready to show off. And my dad likes to throw dinner parties.” He made a face and did air quotes. “Like the Victorians.”

               “Well, I guess I have to socialize now.” Virgil sighed.

               Speaking of that particular hell, Roman emerged out of nowhere with a tall, dark woman in tow. Roman’s friend had waist length hair that flowed down her back like liquid ebony and walked with an air of confidence that almost rivaled him.

               “Hi Virgil.” Roman greeted happily. “I see you’ve met Lucian.”

               “I have.” Virgil nodded. In his past life this would be the point where he was forbidden to talk to this guy under whatever pretext.

               “That’s nice. We all figured you two would get along.” Roman beamed and gestured towards his guest. “This is our friend Lily.”

               “What’s up?” Lily asked excitedly.

               “Uhh… we were talking about food?” Virgil looked at the grass, intimidated by this massive presence.

               “You shouldn’t talk about the food behind its back like that.” Lily answered. “You have to insult it to its face.”

               Virgil looked at Roman for help. Roman just smiled at him. But Lily saw him and laughed.

               “I’m just teasing.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just here to observe how deep Patton and Logan’s betrayal runs.”

               “What?” Virgil sunk into himself.

               “Now that they’re adopting, every single person and childless couple is gonna get twice the flack about…” She did a higher voice. “Settling down and starting a family.” She returned to her normal voice. “When ya girl wants to do that, she will. And it is none of your business. I’m a brown woman, so I already get nagged about that by my family. I don’t need my neighbors to start.”

               “Yes mam.” Virgil uttered in awestruck terror.

               “Anyway.” She ruffled his hair, like Patton had done hundreds of times already. “It was nice meeting you. I won’t cramp your style anymore.”

               With that she left, and Virgil was convinced he had just met the god of yore or some other deity.

               “She’s fun, isn’t she?” Roman smiled.

               “Yeah.”

               “Well, I came over to make sure Barbra doesn’t get a chance to talk to you.” He continued. “She probably wishes you were dead as well.”

               “I’ll keep Karen away from him.” Lucian said disinterestedly.

               “Good. Don’t even let her look over here.” Roman said backing away.

               Roman tripped over a sprinkler but recovered himself with surprising grace and walked away. As he left a new figure emerged. A dude roughly the same age as them wearing an orange hoodie with the hood up. The hood half concealed dark curly hair and cast a shadow on his sort of mustache that he was trying to grow. You know the kind, it’s like six hairs and they’re all different lengths.

               “My dad told me to introduce myself to you.” Hood man sneered at him.

               I wonder if anyone can talk to me without being told first. But I’m two for two in pity friends.

               “Cool.” Virgil said blankly. “I’m Virgil.”

               “I’m Ernest.” Hood man returned.

               Virgil tried to think of anything he would have in common with people his own age. And unless these two were chess club members, which they obviously weren’t because they weren’t losers, he was going to come up short. His dad was in prison and he was still screwing him over. He really was all powerful.

               “Did either of you eat any of the brownies?” Ernest asked in a hushed voice.

               “Yeah, there was oregano in them for some ungodly reason.” Virgil answered.

               “What?” Ernest looked confused. “They’re pot brownies, they’re not made with Italian spices.”  

               “I don’t feel high.” Virgil shrugged. “You sure you didn’t get ripped off?”

               “Lucian.” Ernest glared daggers at their third member. “What did you sell me?”

               “Oregano leaves.” Lucian scoffed. “And apparently that’s a good thing, because you were planning on drugging the entire neighborhood!”

               “You scammed me! I want my ten bucks back!”

               “No way! You paid me ten bucks to learn a valuable lesson.”

               Virgil pulled the draw strings on his hoodie and started chewing on them.

               “What lesson?!”

               “Not to be an idiot! What would have happened if one of the little kids ate your roofied crap?”

               “Weed is less unhealthy than chocolate!”

               “Not if you don’t know you’re getting high! What if someone gave River a brownie?! You would have drugged a baby!”

               “So, you just threw whole ass leaves in some brownie mix?” Virgil interrupted. “And what, hoped that no one would notice?”

               “What?” Lucian walked over to the table and came back with a brownie. “You idiot! You’re supposed to make it into butter first!”

               “How the hell was I supposed to know that!” Ernest threw his hands up. “I can’t just google how to make pot brownies!”

               Virgil limped over to the table and came back with a lemonade. He drank it contentedly as the scene unfolded.

               “What if someone ate one of them and went in the pool you jackass?!”

               “You can’t swim after eating! No one would have!”

               “Ok, but they were whole leaves.” Virgil said probably to himself. “Even if it was real drugs anyone would have just spat them out after one bite.”  

               “You can’t just drug people! You’re describing the thought process of a rapist!” Lucian crescendo-ed.

               “Ok. I’m calling my dog over, so your head explodes.” Ernest said sternly.

               “Careful not to drug her!”  

               Virgil left and came back with a plate of chips. The argument was going great. Clearly Lucian was winning, but Ernest whistled, and bear dog came bounding over. Bear dog gave Lucian a quick lick on the hand before he could react and then she went for Virgil’s chips.

               “This isn’t over you dick.” Lucian said before storming off.

               Ernest stood victorious. Bear dog ate Virgil’s entire plate, plate and all.

               “The brownie thing was stupid though.” Virgil commented, petting the massive dog. “Like, that was poorly planned at best.”

               “I know that now.” Ernest rolled his eyes. “But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I admit that to Lucian.”

               “I admire your resolve.”

               Virgil counted that event as a success. No one died, nothing caught on fire and no one got arrested. He even made a couple of friends. Granted they were pity friends, but he would take what he could get. And they made hamburgers towards the end that didn’t have any weird stuff in them. Great success.  

[astralaces]

Mariah finally settled into bed as the moon made its way towards the center of the night sky. It was only an hour or so away from midnight and she had just gotten home from the pottery shop. The semi-annual sale was starting at opening tomorrow which meant the staff had to stay long after closing to get all the displays set up. On top of that, tomorrow also marked the beginning of the children’s two week long art program. There had been so many children signing up that Mariah already knew she’d be teaching classes all day.

Yawning, she pulled her blanket tightly around her form before turning on her side. There was a busy day ahead of her, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Besides, Luka had already agreed to help her with the first day of the program seeing as it was his day off. With him by her side everything was bound to go smoothly. Smiling, she closed her eyes and kept her breathing steady until she slowly started to drift away.

“Mom, I want more syrup!“ Mariah pointed down at her small stack of pancakes, which were already swimming in maple syrup. Next to her, her little brothers were more occupied with playing with their breakfast rather than eating it.

“Mariah, you’ve drenched those things! I turn my back for one second and you go and use up half the bottle.“ Shaking her head, Mariah’s mother plucked the bottle of syrup off the table. “Hurry and finish your breakfast. It’s almost time for school.“

Frowning, Mariah stabbed half of a pancake with her fork and shoved it into her mouth. Now that she knew she wouldn’t be getting anymore syrup her appetite was ruined.

“I’m not that hungry anyway,“ she said while turning to the older of her brothers. “Come on, lets go.“

Slipping out of her seat, she grabbed her school bag from off the couch. Her brother followed suit and the two of them headed off for school.

Groggily, Mariah blindly stretched her hand over to the nightstand to shut of the blaring alarm she had set. Rubbing her eyes, she freed herself from the blanket and swung her legs over the edge of her bed—

“What?!“ Gasping, she looked down to verify if what she had just felt was real. Her eyes widened as she stared down at not one, but two legs. Two legs that were definitely too short for her body. A rush of confusion flooded through her and she found herself looking around her room in an attempt to get her bearings.

But that only served to confuse her even more. Her wheelchair wasn’t in its usual spot. In fact, it wasn’t there at all. Her simple, white bedroom walls were now a dusty pink and her plain dresser was now childish in design. 

Swallowing, she ran a hand through her hair. How did she end up in her childhood bedroom? Why did she have both of her legs? 

Clumsily, she got out of bed and walked towards the door. Being able to walk again was an odd sensation and she nearly fell over twice, but she was determined. Once she was at her bedroom door she tossed it open and went into the bathroom.

If she remembered correctly, there was a small step stool under the sink. After a bit of digging, she managed to find it. Letting out a determined sigh, she slowly got on top of it, giving her enough height to get a good look of herself in the mirror. Staring back at her was a reflection that couldn’t have been older than eight years old.

“Ah!“ The surprise of this revelation sent her toppling backwards onto her behind. From the kitchen, she heard someone calling with concern.

“Mariah, is that you?! Are you alright?!“

She immediately recognized her mother’s voice. “I’m fine,” she replied in a voice that was far higher than the one she was now used to.

“You overslept! Hurry and get ready for school, I’ll make something you can eat on the way!“

Using the wall as support, Mariah got back up to her feet. Was she still dreaming? She had to be; this was far too strange. Nothing about this made any sense. 

Not knowing what else to do, she played along with this strange dream. She went back into her room and quickly changed into her school clothes before walking into the kitchen to take the breakfast burrito her mother had prepared. Then, she took her brother’s hand and lead the way to school.

A wave of nostalgia hit her as she passed by all the familiar streets and houses. Even the people she saw filled her with a sense of comfort. 

As she turned the corner to the road that would lead them straight to the school, she noticed another group of schoolchildren walking a few feet ahead. They were clumped together and clearly engrossed in the topic of conversation. Curiosity got the best of her and Mariah strained her ears to listen in.

“My older sister said Miss. Twist was the latest victim of the Dreamer’s Curse,“ one of the girls said. “Yesterday she was going on and on about how she had a dream that she never married her husband and bam! She woke up and he was gone!“

The girl on her right shook her head with a scoff. “Please, you expect us to believe that? Miss. Twist was never married. Besides, the whole ‘Dreamer’s Curse’ thing was just something people made up to scare kids like us, but I’m not going to fall for it.”

Frowning, the first girl became defensive. “It’s not made up, it’s real! We just think Miss. Twist was never married because the curse makes the dream a reality. Any memory of her being married was wiped away from everyone’s mind except hers!”

As the group of friends continued to bicker, Mariah stopped in her tracks. She remembered hearing about the Dreamer’s Curse in school. Kids would whisper stories they had heard during recess and in the hallways. Legend said the curse was created from old magic and had been around since before the founding of Cradle. The story went that each night one unsuspecting dreamer would have their dream become reality, whether it be good or bad. Sometimes it worked in the dreamer’s favor: they’d become rich, or famous, or politically powerful. Other times it had horrible consequences. Some of the worst stories Mariah had heard were ones where people were killed out of existence. 

“Mariah, are you okay?“ Her brother tugged at her hand, but Mariah freed herself from his grasp. 

“I just remembered something. Go on without me, I’ll be back.“ As she spoke, she was already running in the opposite direction.

She’d only gone two blocks before she had to stop to catch her breath. Could the Dreamer’s Curse actually be real? Was that what was happening? 

Sinking down to her knees, Mariah thought about all the implications of her situation. If time had really been set back to her childhood then it was as if everything within the last nineteen years had been erased. The armies were still at odds with each other. The magic tower was still running and hurting people. 

Luka was still being mistreated.

Mariah’s chest squeezed painfully at the thought. It had taken Luka weeks to open up to her about his past home life and to think he was stuck reliving it because of her stupid dream—it just wasn’t fair.

She was only a child now. She didn’t have the power or the influence to unite the armies and bring down the magic tower. She didn’t know if it was possible to reverse the curse. 

But what she did know was that she could at least make a difference to a now fellow child.

Making up her mind, she got back up and continued running. It didn’t matter if it took until nightfall to reach Red Territory. It didn’t matter if she had to spend hours looking for him. All that mattered was she was going to give Luka all the love and care he had deserved since the beginning.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Happy Holidays - Batmom x Batfam

Hope you’ll like it, boom (also, when I say “Christmas”, I’m not talking about the RELIGIOUS aspect of it all. After all, Bruce is part Jewish so you know...might as well be happy Hanukah. What I mean is more about being with family, giving each other presents and just enjoying this moment to be with your loved ones if that makes sense ? It’s basically “happy holiday” rather than Christmas...I’m not sure I’m making sense, it’s mostly cause in French, the word for “Christmas” doesn’t have anything to do with the religion and...Uh. WHAT I MEAN IS, I’m not forgetting Bruce’s Jewish origin, I’m not erasing it, however I’m not writing a story about religion but about family time, and use “Christmas” just because we’re the 25th today...if that...makes sense...) :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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-Yes Dickie, going Christmas shopping on the 24th is a stupid idea...No I’m not going to stop calling you Dickie, I don’t care that you’re 24, you’re still my little boy so shut up. Oh no my son, you won't get me that easily this time, it’s your own fault you’re Christmas shopping that late, so you handle yourself on your own. Oh so now you’re pulling the “little boy” card uh ? Well it’s not working. Good luck sweetie, see you tonight for dinner. Don’t be late.

You hung up your phone as your son was saying : “but moooooooooooom...” and smile, shaking your head slightly.

Oh that boy, always doing everything last minute.

You remember the first Christmas he spend with you and Bruce, when he was just a little eight year old boy...how he ran into the kitchen, on Christmas’ eve, panicked, and whispered (thinking you and Bruce wouldn’t hear) in the butler’s ear : “I don’t have a gift for Bruce or (Y/N), help me please !”.

Of course Alfred did help him, and your heart still beat with happiness whenever you think back on that day.

Dick bought (how adorable it was, that he kept all his pocket money just for that) you a necklace, and a watch for Bruce, but more importantly...he called you “mom” and “dad” for the first time, writing in a cute child’s handwriting “for mom” and “for dad” on your gifts, and asking shyly for the permission to do so...

Smiling back at the memory, you put your phone in your pocket and walk towards the living room. You smile some more when you receive a selfie of your oldest son, in a crowd in one of Gotham’s busiest mall, looking desperate, with the caption : “Why do I never learn ? :/”.

-Dick ?

You turn your face to your husband, who’s sitting on the couch and saw you entering the living room, and give him your widest grin. You nod. Yes.

Dick. As every single Christmas for the past fifteen years. The same antics.

Bruce opens his arms for you, and you go snuggle into them, wrapping yourself around his warmth, sighing in comfort.

Neither of you say anything, just enjoying each other’s presence, in those few hours of calm you’ll have before the entre family will swarm Wayne Manor and surely make a mess. Bruce caresses your back absentmindedly, holding you close to him, and as on its own accord, your mind drifts towards him, your children and Christmas...

************

Damian was the first to buy Christmas presents for the family. 

He would never admit it, but he was just too excited about this time of the year, a time where the entire family would gather (it was so rare to have all of you together at the same time) and just spend quality times all together ! 

He went on the first of December, right after Halloween, to do his Christmas shopping, which you thought was hilarious and sweet. But also very smart, at least, he wouldn’t have to rush like Dick was right now. And oh it was just too cute and adorable to see him that excited about it (though he tried to, without much success, hide it behind an emotionless face as if he didn’t care). 

Tim also went pretty early to shop. 

One day, right after patrol, around six am, he went to one of those 24 hours opened gift shops that were trendy lately in Gotham center, and bought things for all of you.

The next day, there were pictures of him trying to hide the things he bought, glaring at paparazzis that were snapping his portrait...those were suppose to be surprises ! 

And oh it was quite something to see him, half-asleep, coming home at eight in the morning, holding the packages against his chest, and disappearing a few minutes to hide them (Damian always tried to find his gifts in advance...it was a pain in the ass to hide things from him all the time !). 

Jason, bought everything online, too lazy to actually go out. 

But the day the delivery arrived, the way he ran out, making sure Damian wouldn’t put his hands on the presents, was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

 The way he gathered the boxes in his arms, and ran back to his room to hide the gifts while trying to avoid Damian melted your heart...

Cassandra didn’t really understand the concept of “Christmas” and you had to explain it to her. Things got a bit out of hand and you went all the way back to the pagan fest that was Saturnalia. 

You also talked about every single event happening during this time...Cass’ got particularly interested in Hanukah (you guys did this a bit earlier in the week, your own way, just like you did Christmas your own way, not really following the religious standards...) because she knew her father’s mom, Martha, was Jewish, and she wanted to know more about all this because of that. 

You even talked about Kwanza and other such holidays and after hours of philosophical conversation and history, talking about all the damn holiday between October and January, Cassandra finally understood what “Christmas” was, and left the manor for a few hours. She came back with the trunk of her car full of presents, and more excited than ever about the prospect of some quality family time.

It was Duke’s first Christmas with you guys, and you could see he felt utterly sad that you still didn’t find any way to bring his parents’ back from their current state...He’s the only one with whom you went to Christmas’ shop, making sure he knew and understood he was part of the Wayne family forever, and you’d always be here to support him. Always.

It actually turned into a very emotional moment, and some important bonding between you and him...Which was really what Christmas was about in your book, wasn’t it ? Duke thanked you with a clumsy hug, and you didn’t let go until you were absolutely sure that he was loved. 

Dick of course, was always late, as stated before. 

Alfred, was the opposite of Dick, always very organized. No one ever saw him Christmas shop and yet, every single Christmas ever since you started to date Bruce seriously, there was gifts under the tree with all your names on it, from your favorite and beloved butler...It was a mystery really, how he managed this. 

After his parents’ death, Bruce started to hate Christmas. Every single year reminding him that he lost the two people he loved the most in the World, reminding him that he didn’t have a family anymore...And then he found you. 

You kinda tumbled in his life, without any warning, and stuck around. Change his life completely, messed everything up...in the best way possible. Before you, he never expected to ever be happy again and yet...yet you arrived one day, in all your glorious wit and stubborness, and never let him go, never gave up on me, no matter how much of an asshole he was to you. 

The first Christmas you spend together made him feel like he wasn’t doomed to live a life without any hope nor love. The first Christmas you spend together made him realize that...Things weren’t over. There was still beauty in this World. 

Thanks to you, Bruce liked Christmas again. And then, when your children came along...He had a family. Once again. People who loved him, people he loved...people he’ll never leave, and will always protect. 

He always took time off his busy schedule to buy gifts for all of you. Not always expensive, always something you’d want. It was impressive, how he could remember something you guys said once, how he always knew what to get you to make you all happy. 

The thought of all your family members and their approach of Christmas made you happy, but also reminded you of something that wasn’t that great about this period of time. 

************

Being able to gather your entire family in the same place was a fucking nightmare. 

Your two oldest son, Dick and Jason didn’t even live in the manor anymore, and had such damn busy life. Tim was always doing something, and when he had free time, he would sleep, completely exhausted. Damian was often around, being a momma’s boy, but also needed to be alone often. Cass loved to spend time on her own, and would rather be there when it was just you, just one of her brother, just Alfred, just her dad...Duke was also very busy. All of you were, and more often than not, you’d just be able to gather three of your children at a time. 

So when Christmas was coming...Of course, no one would skip Christmas’ eve’s dinner. Oh no. The food called upon them too much. And for some reason, Christmas’ eve was the calmest night in Gotham and so far never really required the presence of the “Batfam” ! As if even villains and criminals spend their time with their loved ones...Christmas’ eve was the opposite of the dreaded Halloween. 

But before said dinner ? And the morning after where you’d all open your gifts ? It was nearly impossible to gather the entire family ! 

And yet, you had to. Not just because you wanted them all there, of course you did...but the reason you had to all be together before anything happened was because you needed to take an “official” Christmas’ photo. 

The famous Wayne family had to send their greetings to Gotham City. It was a tradition, something people in the city actually expected, and a damn pain in the ass ! 

It always took you and Alfred weeks to prepare everything. To make sure everyone would show up, to find a discreet photographer who wouldn’t be tempted to take pictures of the inside of the mansion, or extra unwanted pictures of the family (those would sell for thousands of dollars to any Gotham’s newspaper !) etc etc. 

Oh and let’s not forget the fight to make them wear the infamous ugly Christmas sweaters. It was another tradition, and a joy for Gothamites to see the Waynes in true Christmas spirit ! 

It was awful, to constantly argue with all of them...Dick would hate the color of his sweater, Damian would think it was not the right size, Jason would argue that it didn’t fit his rebel personality, Cass would hate the feel of the wool, Duke would hate the design, Tim would say he was allergic to the fabric, Bruce would just be grumpy overall...But you’d always convince them to wear their damn sweaters. 

This year, Bruce was wearing a navy blue one with snowflakes on it, Dick had a green one with candy canes, Jason a red one with snowmen, Damian a brown and red one with reindeers, Tim a green and red one with the words “ho ho ho” and “merry Christmas”, Cass a light blue one with a gingerbread house, and Duke a green and brown one with a Christmas tree on it. 

You had the same one than Bruce, and chose it just to annoy him. You knew how he hated the cheesiness of those sweaters, and you and him wearing matching ones always exasperated him because the headline of the newspapers the next day would surely be “lovebirds something something” and he hated people commenting on his personal life with you ! 

Your husband knew you did it on purpose, and yet, as every year, when you arrived in the room and he saw you had the same sweater than him, he rolled his eyes and pursed his lips in annoyance...though one glance and a kiss from you and it was all gone. 

The photographer took a few pictures of you, telling you guys how to behave and god all of you hated how fake all this was...You all smiled forcefully (though you had so much practice at fake smiling that it looked genuine), and awkwardly stood there for an hour. 

You then went to choose the picture you’d send to everyone and...The only one you actually liked was one the photographer took without telling you. 

Bruce had his arm around your shoulder and was looking at you lovingly, you were looking back with a smile...Your children were all close, in each others’ arms, imitating jokingly some pictures of some families, acting like they were in a sitcom...and yet it was the best picture. 

Yes. It would always be such a hassle to be able to reunite your entire family, and so much “fights” about those damn sweaters ! 

This year, you had to almost force Damian to wear it, giving him your famous batglare, and Jason “accidentally” burned his...unfortunately for him, you always had a few extra sweaters, knowing damn well each year at least one of your kids would try to ruin their as to not wear them (Cass slashed hers with saber once, Tim “misplaced” it in the chimney, Damian once said that Titus ate it, Dick lost it in one of the pit in the bat cave...Those damn kids). 

Yes, it was difficult...but you’d always manage it (bless was the day Alfred entered the Wayne family’s life, because without him, it would be impossible to organize everything really). A few days before Christmas, you’d all gather and take those damn pictures.

Well, you’d take two actually. One taken professionally, to put on Christmas cards you’d send every single employee of Wayne inc, and a few newspapers so they could post it the next day. One none of you would really enjoy to take...And one, taken by only you, where you’d wear another special kind of ugly sweater...

Barbara Gordon, Dick’s girlfriend and dear friend of the family, to the surprise of many, was a huge knitting fan. It soothed her and it was one of the only thing her mother ever taught her, before abandoning her, her (psychotic) brother and beloved father. 

Every single year, her gifts to all of you would be a knitted sweater she’d make herself, inspired by you all. 

Dick’s was blue, and had Nightwing symbol on it, with his weapons of choice (the two sticks) all around the collar and the bottom of the sweater. 

Jason’s was red, with little hoods, and a “I’m back, bitch” on it (you rolled your eyes at it, but of course, Jay absolutely loved it). 

Tim’s was green and yellow, with little cups of coffee and written : “Sleep is for the weak” on it. 

Damian’s was red and green and had little robins all around. 

Cass’ was dark blue, with written “I’m a motherfucking princess and I can beat your ass” on it, which also made you roll your eyes and made Bruce frown but...That fitted her pretty well really. 

Duke’s was yellow and had an “R” on it, with a bat symbol around. 

Bruce’s was black with a bat on it, very simple really. Always the same...or rather, always seemed the same, as each year, she used a different bat symbol. 

Alfred’s was red and had “sassy butler” written on it, with little butlers all around it. 

Yours was also often the same. It was always written “Batmom” on it, and was in your favorite color, (F/C), even if it wasn’t always very Christmassy. All around your collar and bottom of your sweater were the symbols of your sons’ and husband’s costumes. Of course. 

Those sweaters you’d always wear proudly, because Barbara was important in all of your lives, and her gifts valuable (and funny really..Also very sweet). 

And you’d take a picture in it, that would fit your family’s personality. On this one, Alfred would be in of course (he couldn’t be in the “official” one as he was suppose to only be a mere “butler”). 

You and Bruce would always kiss under the mistletoe on it, making at least one of your children make a “ew” face. 

This year, it was Damian’s turn. He was standing right below you two, in between your bodies, his arms around your waists, realizing you were kissing, making a disgusted face. 

Dick was laying across the floor on the bottom, one of his legs held by Tim who seemed tired but had the most genuine smile on his face. 

Jay had his elbow on Tim’s shoulder and a cute smile too, while Cass was in the middle, holding Duke in her arms, both of them a warm smile on their faces too. 

Alfred was rolling his eyes at you and Bruce kissing of course, one hand on Damian’s shoulder, sympathetic. His other hand on Tim’s who was the closest (one of Tim’s hand holding his).

All of you guys were in contact with each others, showing how close you all were. Yes. 

This picture was your favorite. 

Dick entered your life fifteen years ago, starting this little tradition of a “personal” picture when a ten year old Barbara gave you, Bruce and her new best friend Dick a sweater she knitted...

In your bedroom, on the wall where you’d put all your favorite pictures, was a part reserved for those special Christmas one. Fifteen of them, with the family growing bigger every now and then. But also showing how things weren’t always happy and easy...Two of those pictures were painful ones. One was missing Jason, the other Damian, souvenirs of some of the toughest time of your life...You kept them up though. It was important to remember. 

All your children had copies of the pictures in their bedroom as well. 

************

You were thinking about all that, comfortably settled in your husband’s arms, when you heard them...They had spend the day together, spending precious bonding time between siblings, going out in the snow, going ice skating too. 

They all busted in the living room, their cheeks red because of the cold, their eyes shiny with happiness. 

You knew it was a special day when none of them said “ew” when they saw you and Bruce in each others’ arms, and instead came to you to give you each a kiss and a hug, talking excitedly about their days. 

Dick was missing of course, as he left them early to do his damn Christmas shopping...but soon enough, you heard him rush in and going to hide his gifts, before coming back in the living room. 

Christmas was starting now. 

************

As each year, Alfred surpassed himself, cooking an absolutely amazing dinner (vegetarian for Damian...no turkey was on the table, as your youngest son decided to adopt the turkey as his pet...). 

You all talked about everything and nothing, and not once the subject of your nightly patrols were risen. Not a single time did any of you even think about it...

For Bruce, it was proof that you were made of pure magic. Because there was no illusion there...you were the center of it all. The reason everyone gathered around the table, the reason he and all of your children grew to love Christmas. 

The reason none of them, not even him, the always so stoic and disciplined man, thought one bit about their night mission. Not one single bit. 

And Bruce never felt guilty about it either, no. No Christmas was a special day. The only time of the year when he truly could be completely carefree. 

And it was all thanks to you. 

And so here you all wear, gathered around a huge table full of great food, laughing loudly and searing of happiness, on Christmas’ eve. 

All thanks to your very existence.

************

Christmas would also be the only night where all of you would almost have ten hours of sleep. After dinner, you’d watch a Christmas classic (Home Alone and Die Hard were some of the favorite), and then, after a few glasses of eggnog and good night kisses, would go to bed full and content. 

The next day you’d all wake up completely fresh, and rush to the tree to open your gifts, spend more time all together and realize how much you all loved each others. How much you all counted for each other. 

How none of you could exist anymore with one of you missing...

Christmas was a special day in the Wayne family. 

A day where you could all forget every worry and just spend time with each other. 

A day of pure joy and bliss. 

And though the 26th everything would be back to normal, though things weren’t always easy again and life was difficult for all of you. Though you were still all full of issues and such...The 25th and Christmas’ eve were your special moments of the year. 

A family day. 

A day of love and shared happiness. 

A perfect day.

_________________________________

I wrote this while very drunk, sorry if it sucks ass and if i drifted away from the original requests.. Oops. I hope you’ll still like it. Also : happy holidays everybody <3. 

[brandonleepenny]

Safely Home

“Safely Home” In 1969, Swiss psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross proposed a model that suggests there are five stages of grief. The theory holds that the stages are a part of the framework that help one learn to live without what they’ve lost. They were never meant to be complete or chronological, nor applied to all persons; the way a person moves through the stages is as unique as they are.

This is my telling of the day my dad died and the grieving process through the eyes of my brother, sister, mother, uncle, and myself. In private interviews I and asked them to describe their innermost thoughts and feelings throughout the aftermath of the death of Norman Penny; their father, husband, brother and most importantly, friend.

As organically as possible, I have constructed a story by piecing together a snippet from each interview to correlate with specific stages of the grieving process.

I'm afraid, however, I will not tell you everything. Time has a way of erasing the details and smoothing over the rough edges.  I assure you, you will know what you desire to know. You will be fed. I will be as honest and as accurate as I can be. I will tell you what I know to be true.

Although I am aware that putting two and two together is not a difficult task, some (if I felt it necessary) identifying details have been purposefully omitted (changing them is weird) to hopefully protect the privacy (and feelings?) of individuals and places involved. You’re welcome and I’m sorry.

The date was June 17th, 2006. A sunny Saturday exactly ten years ago today.

The local Rotary chapter of Burlington, CO was holding their annual pancake breakfast just after sunrise. My dad helped serve and brought along my little sister. She recalls, “As we were leaving, dad made sure I waved to his friends. He was always so nice to people. Dad would ask (quietly) what someone’s name was so he could be more personable and address them properly.”

I was up early for a swim meet and obviously hadn’t taken a razor to my face for a few days, so my dad (always clean shaven) suggested I do so. Oddly enough, I don’t even think I argued. Soon after, I headed next door to catch a ride with the Amundson family to the swim meet in Wray, CO.

After my events, I realized I had a missed phone call from home along with a voicemail. My dad had called to make sure I had gotten there safely, to see how I had done, and even asked if I needed a ride home (even though he knew I had gone with my neighbors). Soon enough, the meet had finally come to a close. I was hot, sunburned, and reeked of chlorine. Since we had been sitting in the van all day to avoid the sun, the car battery had died. Luckily, there was still a volunteer around cleaning up that had jumper cables.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. However, seeing as it was still such a nice day out, I managed to find the energy to go on my own little adventure. I grabbed a bicycle from the back garage and was on my way leaving my shoes and Motorola TracFone behind. Just me and my curiosity.

I rode a few streets over and happened upon a familiar face. She was the ex-wife of my uncle Gary, my dad’s brother who he was was currently on a bike ride with. I stopped to say hello and compliment her recent yardwork. During our conversation, the all-too-familiar ambulance sirens went off. Of course, neither of us thought anything of it. You never do. Our chat quickly came to an end and I rode straight home, stopping for nothing. It was as if I was subconsciously destined to go home immediately.

I parked the bike back where I had found it and stepped through the back French doors into our dining room. The television was on, but nobody was home. Soon, Kathy Amundson, who had driven me to the swim meet earlier that morning, came over with a look of distress and confusion on her face. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Your father has been in a bicycle accident,” she stated. She offered to drive me to the hospital. I remember the exact dip in the road we plunged through as she assured me that everything would be okay. I wanted to believe her. In fact, I did. How could something possibly so tragic happen so quickly and unexpectedly? Especially to me.

Stage One: Denial Gary Penny-brother to the late Norman Penny, present at time of death “I remember while riding turning and saying, “That’s enough Norman.” He was pushing too hard. Exercised like a 25-year-old. Norm had taken a stress test weeks before that promised to be 70% accurate. We have a family history of heart problems. After he fell off his bike, I held Norm’s head in my lap and thought time had slowed down. It seemed to be taking forever for help to arrive.”

As we pulled into the parking lot of the Kit Carson Memorial Hospital, I jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to the double doors. I remember frantically searching for the waiting room. When I found it, my brother, mom, and Grandma Dorothy (my dad’s mother) were sitting with their heads down. The tears immediately followed. I still didn’t have any idea what had happened. I later learned that my mom and brother had been at home upon receiving a phone call from Gary saying they needed to get to the hospital. Norman had been in an accident and they were having a hard time getting his heart started. They immediately drove to the hospital while holding hands reassuring themselves that it was going to be okay. When they arrived, they were told to wait in the waiting room as the doctors continued their efforts to revive my dad. My sister showed up shortly after. She had been watching a softball game across town.

The doctor came out of the operating room where they had been trying to start my dad’s heart, knelt down, and grabbed my mom’s hands. Through deeply saddened eyes, he spoke clearly, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing else we can do...we’ve done everything we can.” Truth is, he was gone before he hit the ground. My family and I sought comfort in knowing he didn’t suffer.

A few steps away, tucked into a corner room was my father. As we walked in, I noticed many things. The shirt my dad had been wearing was cut down the middle in order to make operating easier, his glasses were scratched from the pavement, all of the machines were just being shut down, and a few of the medics were slowly making their way out as to leave us alone.

He looked so peaceful, so humble. It hurt to see my grandma. My mom recalls her stroking his hair. She had outlived her husband and just like that, her firstborn. You’re not supposed to outlive your children. I remember looking into his beautiful blue eyes, one of the many obvious things I had gotten from him. His hair was silver and his skin pale. We were reassured we’d be able to see him again, and left.

Time of death: 6:20p. Age: 54. Cause: Cardiorespiratory Arrest.

Stage Two: Anger Christopher Penny [17]-Noman’s oldest son “I wish he was around. I do. I wish he was there to guide me through life. To help deal with things I had to do on my own, though mom was here. I graduated college [at Colorado University] without dad. I imagine there would have been less...turbulence in life. It’s kind of like an anchor that’s gone, I guess.”

The drive home in my dad’s pick-up was the worst. When my mom and brother had left the house for the hospital, my mom had been baking peanut butter cookies and left the oven on. A thoughtful neighbor noticed and thankfully turned the oven off.

As you can imagine, we cried. Immediately countless people shoved their way into our home to show their support and sorrow. I didn’t mind the company, but it was almost an overwhelming feeling to see just how much people really did care. I remember, the preacher’s wife picked up a photo of him from a bookshelf and said to me, “No, it’s wrong. He wasn’t supposed to go.”

That night, my mom, brother, sister, and I cried ourselves to sleep in my mom’s bed. I can still remember how painful my face felt as I sobbed myself into unconsciousness. We would wake up the next day, Sunday, June 18th, 2006: Father’s Day. We were together, but very much alone.

Stage Three: Bargaining Susanne Penny-Norman’s wife, three days short of their 20th wedding anniversary

“I would give anything to...I think about this a lot...have had him at home four more years. All that you kids accomplished in high school that Grandma Dorothy and I were so proud of. Your Eagle Scout, Christopher’s State Wrestling Championship, Danielle’s graduation from middle school. Just to get you three through high school. You were so young to not have a dad. I’m 58 and both of my parents are still alive. A local confided in me after Norm’s passing. He confessed that he drank like a fish, smoked like a haystack, and took multiple medications every night and here Norm was, healthy as can be. Icon of healthiness. An upstanding citizen in community. I would give any amount of money in a heartbeat to have had Norm for four more years.”

The morning of the funeral my mom told us kids to write a note that we would place in a compartment located in the casket. Sewn onto the upper lining of the top half was the phrase, “May the work I’ve done speak for me”. Such a simple task felt immensely overwhelming. There was so much left unsaid. So many questions unanswered. I finally decided to just tell him that I loved and missed him very much and that anything else I was thinking and wanting to tell him, he already knew because those are just the kind of powers he had now.

The funeral was phenomenal. It was a gorgeous day. Over 800 people packed the United Methodist Church in Burlington, CO on 13th street. So full, in fact, that there were chairs and televisions set up in the basement and educational building streaming the service. You were lucky to be standing.

Stage Four: Depression Danielle Penny [13]-Norman’s youngest daughter

“What makes me sad a lot is the void that is now here. If dad were here, our lives would be different. Relationships would be different. Mom would be different because she'd have him. I tried being more of a strong person than a sorrowful person. Suffering and living a sorrowful life wasn't pushed at the time. It was more living through and being strong. Family helped us through that time and didn’t allow much room for sorrow. When you're 13...the mindset of a 13 year old...well, if it were to happen to me now, it would have been different. I’m a totally different person now than I was at 13.”

The service was difficult, but comforting. The preacher knew my father well which was reassuring. Ironically enough, the first funeral he performed when he moved to our town was for Gene Penny (my grandfather) and the last was my dad. We closed the ceremony with one of my dad’s favorite hymns, “On Eagle’s Wings”. I remember being angry that the wrong page number was announced, but it seemed everyone knew the words by heart.

I wore a pinstriped suit that had belonged to my dad. It was the same suit my dad had seen me wear to my first prom, a few weeks prior, freshman year. (The Burlington Class of 2009 would experience the loss of a parent each year of high school. I was the second.) If I remember correctly, it was also the suit he wore in his and my mom’s engagement photo. I chose the outfit specifically because I distinctly remember him telling me that I looked sharp and knew he’d approve.

We were the first to leave the church and were transported to Fairview Cemetery a few blocks away. Policemen escorted the hearse and firefighters closed streets and directed traffic. That’s something you don’t see every day. I get the shivers when I think of just how much the people in my community respected my father.

Stage Five: Acceptance Brandon Penny [15]-Norman’s second child

As I was researching material for this piece, I dug up my dad’s Creative Writing journal from his senior year of high school in 1970. Written in perfect cursive: "When it comes time to die, whether it be natural or otherwise, one should feel good to know that he has lived life to the best of his ability without feeling any shame."

During my interviews, I realized that everyone had different (or no) thoughts on stages 1-4, but everyone unknowingly agreed on the final stage: acceptance. You can’t change things. You can’t bring people back. You can’t be sad forever about what you don’t have anymore. Time doesn’t stop. There’s nothing you can do about it and that’s okay. Life goes on and doesn’t wait for you. You can’t lay in bed. You have to get up and get dressed. You’ve got kids to raise, you’ve got work to do. You must be grateful for what you have.

Throughout the years, I feel like acceptance just kind of came. It happened on its own. It would have been more difficult to accept had I fought the truth, the reality. Grandma Dorothy became our rock. She stepped into dad’s shoes in supporting us. Our immediate and extended family grew closer.

He lives on in us. I once had someone tell me that they wish they could have met my dad. I smiled and said,

“You already have.”

[thewebofslime]

This past winter, my husband Adam brought up a news story about a cult leader in Brazil who had been arrested for sexual assault. “That’s not the guy you went to see, is it?” “Of course not,” I answered, “my guy wasn’t a cult leader.” It took several more mentions before I decided to read this story for myself. The predator turned out to be “my guy,” indeed — John of God, whom I’ve credited with helping me find myself. “Did you go there when you hit rock bottom?” Adam asked. “My rock bottom was a decade long.” It came out as a joke; we both laughed. But I wasn’t kidding. My current life as a wife and mother of two girls bears little resemblance to the decade in question — the period of hopelessness and stagnation that enveloped most of my 20s. I needed a good therapist and antidepressants (which I eventually got to). Before that, like many, I turned to spirituality. I studied reiki and meditation. I read Eckhart Tolle, Abraham Hicks, Gary Zukav and countless others. And I traveled from New York to Abadiânia, Brazil, to meet João Teixeira de Faria, known as João de Deus or John of God. For years I referred to that trip as visiting an ashram. In reality, it was the compound of a medium who claimed to channel the spirits of doctors and saviors. Related Video: Growing Up in an Apocalyptic Cult 0:00 4:08 'Nobody even knew it was a cult until way later' John of God wasn’t the first healer I sought out. During my “rock bottom” days, I dropped $200 on a charlatan in Queens, New York. She told me I’d been cursed and wanted me to cough up 200 more for her to de-curse me. Another time, someone recommended a Russian mystic to my mom, who was desperate to help me. He was a Soviet immigrant like us and lived in a dark Brooklyn apartment crammed with Russian Orthodox depictions of Jesus. When I went to see him, he offered to “manually release” my curse, as he held his hands alarmingly close to my crotch. I politely declined, payed him and left. John of God was seemingly on a level above everyone else. I got introduced to him through my uncle Misha, who was fighting cancer. Misha was more sarcastic than pious. He was well-read and took an interest in everything worldly. I would never have expected him to go the spiritual route ― until he got sick. My dad accompanied Misha to see the healer in Brazil. They returned hopeful and with an air of peace. Though I wasn’t physically ill, I wanted to go too. My spirit was broken. My depression first took hold when I immigrated to America at age 8. I restrained sobs in my new, crowded Brooklyn classroom. I pined for the lost order and familiarity of my childhood in Riga, Latvia. It wasn’t a perfect place by any means. Most Jews there, like my own ancestors, were killed during the Holocaust. My family lived in a communal apartment with strangers. The infamous Soviet lines for food and toilet paper were very much a reality. But it was all I had known. In America, I faced bullying and, perhaps, a lifelong identity crisis. Who did I have to be to be liked and accepted? I changed my name — Asya to Jessie — and I hardened myself. Or so I thought. View photos Me in second grade in the Soviet Union. (Courtesy Of Jessie Asya Kanzer) More At 21, when I ended up in a bed I didn’t want to be in with an internship supervisor I didn’t even find attractive, I was bewildered. I had been miserably toiling away in business school, looking for an out. This film production internship was a godsend. I cried as he took off my clothes, the word “No” stuck in my throat. Why did I go to his claustrophobic apartment in the first place? How naïve was I to think he would actually do what he said ― show me the film he was working on? I buried that incident as best I could. But my trust in myself was gone. For the next few years, I struggled to find my footing. When a car ran a red light and crashed into mine, my concussed brain got a much needed respite. I barely minded the scar on my face. Living with my parents, I tried my hand at various jobs. Nothing stuck. I couldn’t make a relationship work, or friendships for that matter. “You’re too high-maintenance,” my best friend told me as I gave her a hard time yet again for having a life away from me. “I need a break.” I wanted my monkey mind to shut up. I wanted to stop picking my skin, making it bleed over every blemish. I wanted to be normal. Using the insurance money I got from the car accident, I purchased airfare for my pilgrimage. I booked an English-speaking guide who would lead a group of us to “The Casa” where the healing took place. I read everything I could about John of God. I filled my suitcase with the light-colored clothing we were supposed to wear there. And I waited in anticipation to leave my broken self behind. View photos Me outside The Casa in Abadiânia, Brazil, where John of God could be found. (Courtesy Of Jessie Asya Kanzer) More Alone in Abadiânia for two weeks, I settled in at a simple pousada (guesthouse) that was walking distance from The Casa. It was a small rural town — quiet, filled with untamed nature. I slept with a broom nearby because strange giant bugs liked to settle above my bed. There was no television or internet to distract me from what I came to do: heal. Meeting the medium was a solemn process. Hundreds of people in white flocked to The Casa every morning — some in wheelchairs, others frail from chemo. In an orderly line, we waited to go before him so he could prescribe our cures. Mine was as follows: Five trips to the local sacred waterfall Four months without sex, alcohol or black pepper Four bottles of blessed herbal capsules A translator quickly scribbled these directions on a small piece of paper. I met many kind people, some of whom journeyed to see the spiritualist yearly ― folks who had dedicated their lives to a commune for the disabled, women with cancer who still had the most positive outlook … and myself, the original me who wasn’t eaten up by fear or loneliness or self-pity. I liked her. View photos En route to The Casa in Abadiânia. (Courtesy Of Jessie Asya Kanzer) More For three hours a day, I sat in meditation in the “current room,” helping to conduct energy for healings. It felt special, purposeful. I napped, hiked, and stood under that freezing holy waterfall. I prayed in front of The Casa’s triangle — a big wooden wall hanging whose three sides represented faith, love and charity. And then I went home. I was ready to start anew, but it took a lot more trial and error to get myself together. I often appealed to the spirits that John of God purported to channel, surrounding myself with crystals from Abadiânia and with a replica of that magic triangle signed by the man himself. As an actress-waitress, I moved to Los Angeles — only to realize I longed for ordinary family life. I became a 30-year-old social media peon back in New York. I read the Tao Te Ching and lived simply. I found love. Uncle Misha passed away a year after my trip. My mom had a photo of him on her mantle that was taken in Brazil — he was resting his chin on his fist like Rodin’s “The Thinker.” He looked whole. Then, in December 2018, João Teixeira de Faria was arrested on charges of rape and statutory rape. Hundreds of allegations were brought against him by women and girls from all over the world, including his own daughter. Even more shockingly, he was accused of running a baby trafficking scheme, where young sex slaves bore children he sold to hopeful parents overseas. Allegedly, the “handmaids” were murdered after 10 years of service. In another disturbing twist, activist Sabrina Bittencourt, whose work led to John of God’s arrest, ended her life by suicide in February. She had left Brazil after receiving death threats from his followers and was living under protection in Barcelona, Spain. She was the mother of three. The guru I sought after getting date-raped was likely a rapist himself — and a madman. I had fallen for him, but I was in good company. Renowned spiritual teacher Wayne Dyer sang John of God’s praises. My idol Oprah Winfrey interviewed him in 2012 and said she felt humbled and filled with a sense of peace. My father and my uncle believed in him, too. When people are sick, whether of body or soul, they will do anything to get better. It was devastating that a “miracle maker” took advantage of those most vulnerable. I’d been a cog in a machine that gave power to a monster. My beatific memories of healing were a farce. I felt lost, yearning to recalibrate. I began the process of erasing John of God from my psyche and from my home. I trashed his magic triangle, which hung in my daughter’s nursery. A delicate rose quartz crystal went in the garbage as well. I kept another crystal from Abadiânia, though. It was heavy and solid. It made me think not of John of God, but of myself — the strong self I started to rediscover there. I remembered also the godly travelers who came together in hope — it was they who brought the peace. I have realized that no one trip or person can fix those of us with demons. It takes a commitment we try to uphold daily — whether in an ashram, a therapist’s office or, like me, in a house in the suburbs, with a husband, two kids and a cat.

[torixus]

56-year-old woman forgot the last 38 Years of her life after suffering Transient Global Amnesia

 This is a pure shocking development, as a 56-year-old woman from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, has reportedly forgotten the last 38 years of her life after a spitting headache. “If the memories don’t come back, I can make new ones,” Woman says as she suffers memory lost

56-year-old kim Denicola

The woman has been diagnosed with Transient Global Amnesia (TGA) just after she suffered a terrible headache apparently caused her to completely forget the last 38 years of her life. Last year within the month of October, the 56-year-old was seen leaving a bible study at a local church when she complained about an excruciating headache and Blurry vision to her husband on phone . He told her to go to the emergency room, but some friends found her passed out in the church parking lot and rushed her to the hospital. The first thing Denicola remembers from after that incident is lying in a hospital bed and a nurse asking her questions she apparently had all the wrong answers to. “She said, ‘Do you know what today is, what year are you in?’ I said, ‘Yeah, 1980.’ And she said, ‘Can you tell me who the president is?’ I said, ‘Yes, Ronald Regan.’ And she stopped,” Kim told Fox8.

“If the memories don’t come back, I can make new ones,” Woman says as she suffers memory lost

Things got even worse when a stranger walked into her room and grabbed her hand. When she saw tears in his eyes, she knew something was wrong. That man was David, her husband of 17 years, but she didn’t remember marrying anyone, let alone someone so much older than her. You see, the last thing Kim Denicola remembered from before her blackout was turning 18 in 1980. Everything from that point on, her marriage, giving birth to two children, basically the last 38 years of her life had been completely erased from her memory. “It is mind boggling,” Kim said. “When I found out I was married, I had two biological children, I have two boys that I raised that are my nephews, and I have three stepchildren, so that’s seven kids that I impacted in some way over those 38 years that I have no clue about.” Ever since that fateful day in October 2018, Kim Denicola has undergone several rounds of brain scans and medical exams, but doctors have been unable to come up with an explanation for her sever memory loss. She showed no signs of a stroke or brain damage, so she has been diagnosed with an extremely rare condition known as Transient Global Amnesia. But even as a TGA sufferer, Kim’s case stands out because of the long period of time she appears to have forgotten. “The time period of memory loss is longer. She’s recalling back to where she doesn’t remember computers, so that was back in the 80s or 90s, so that’s really unusual that you have that type of memory loss associated,” Dr Tasha Shamlin told Fox8. Sudden memory loss is usually temporary, but according to a recent report by Inside Edition, Kim Denicola’s strange amnesia has persisted for five months now. Her family, who she has gradually gotten reacquainted with, hoped that looking at old photos would help jog her memory, but so far that has not worked. Kim Denicola is currently rediscovering all the things that she has forgotten from the past 38 years, including mundane things like smartphones, computers and flat-screen TVs, and coming to to terms with tragedies she has no recollection of, like the deaths of her parents and brother. “They’re gone, but all these other ones I’m just going to learn what to do and how to, how to be their mom, at 18,” Denicola said. Upon all the challenges of waking up in a whole new world, surrounded by people she doesn’t remember meeting before, Kim Denicola is determined to make the best of her new life. “If the memories don’t come back, I can make new ones,” she said. What is Transient Global Amnesia?

what is the cause of Transient global amnesia?

It is an immediate, Temporary episode of memory loss that can't be attributed to a more common neurological condition, such as epilepsy or stroke. When someone suffers of transient global amnesia, they forget to remember recent events and makes their memory vanish The transient global amnesia, can only make you forget your memories but Will not take away your view about who you are and the person will recognize the people he know well. People within the age of 50 and older have a higher risk of transient global amnesia than do younger people.

The brain

Because the cause of transient global amnesia is unknown and the rate of recurrence is low, there's no real way to prevent the condition. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); via Blogger https://ift.tt/2TCo2F5

[momscookingthebooks]

Cover Reveal and Excerpt

Title: Misfit

Author: Alyne Roberts

Genre: New Adult/Romantic Suspense

Release Date: April 24, 2017

#CoverReveal ⇒  Misfit by Alyne Roberts! Set to release April 24th! Add to your #TBR and stop by to read an #excerpt and #teasers! #ComingSoon #NewAdult #RomanticSuspense

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34220703-misfit

Blurb:

Misfit. Outcast. September Evans was used to being an outsider after being bounced around foster homes. No one seemed to resent her more than her new foster brother, Keaton Grayson. He hated the new girl intruding on his life.

Until he didn't. Fights became foreplay and anger became lust. The line between their love/hate relationship started to blur until it disappeared completely and ended in heartbreak.

Getting close to Keaton was September's biggest mistake. One that comes back to haunt her four years later, when the stakes are higher than ever. The two are going to have to work together on something dangerous and wrong but done for the right reasons. The chemistry and attraction are still there, buried under resentment and blame.

Keaton still wants September gone, or maybe he just wants her. September can't forget her past with Keaton, but she can't let him ruin her future either.

Erasing that line between love and hate again could destroy them both.

Excerpt:

Copyright Alyne Roberts. Unedited. Subject to Change.

I stare up at the warehouse and then back down at my phone. Gray’s Auto. I have the address right but the place looks vacant. There’s a closed sign in the window and a few cars in the parking lot. I knock on the big metal door, but no one answers. By the time the sun sets, I am out of patience.

“Sure, come on over Nine. Not a problem at all,” I mutter to myself as I pick one of the three locks. They are heavy duty locks, not easy to pick but after a few more cuss words and promises to kill Rhys, I get in.

“Make yourself at home, Nine,” I say to myself as I walk up the stairs and step into a large loft.

The huge living space is lined with windows that over look the river that runs along the side of the building. A couch and a flat screen TV sit in the center of the room. I spot the kitchen in the back and head for it. I need a shot but a beer will have to do. I pop the top and hop up on the counter to wait.

I’m on my second beer when I hear a car pull up. Footsteps echo up the hall before the lights flick on and I’m met with a grinning Rhys. It’s rare to get a smile from him so I don’t waste a beat before I jump down and into his waiting arms. His hug is like home as I’m wrapped up with one of the few people in this world I can trust.

When I look over his shoulder, my eyes lock on dark eyes I know too well. That familiar anger and hate are there, glaring back at me. I’m hit in the gut with every memory I have been trying to block out since I left home 4 years ago.

“September.”

My name rolls off his tongue with ease, like it always had. It was always September. He was the only other person that called me that other than my mom. Not Ember like I asked him to call me hundreds of times. Not Nine or Sept.

His voice is deeper with more grit. He looks different than the teenager I left standing on that porch 4 years ago. His chest is wider, filled out with muscles underneath a tight t-shirt. Tattoos peak out from under his sleeves, covering his hands and climbing out from his collar up his neck. There’s a light stubble on his face that I’ve never seen before. If I thought I couldn’t resist him when I was 17 and stupid, I don’t stand a chance at 22 and even more stupid.

Keaton Grayson is a man now. Hot and angry and everything I have been trying to forget since I left.

“Keaton,” I whisper as I pull out of Rhys’s hold.

“You two know each other?” he asks, looking between Keaton and I in suspicion.

Neither one of us speaks for a minute. How do you answer that question? Is there one word that sums up our relationship? He was my first love or I broke his heart doesn’t seem like enough.

“He was my foster brother,” I finally answer, knowing if I didn’t offer something Keaton would answer. I didn’t want to hear his explanation. It would be hurtful.

“She was more of a house guest actually.”

There it is. Those words hurt more than I’d like to admit. Always the outsider. I was never really part of his family, no matter how badly I wanted it.

“Is that right?” Rhys asks, looking to Keaton then back at me.

Keaton laughs but it’s hard and laced with venom. I lift my chin and straighten my spine, ready for the verbal attack I know is coming.

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t work with her. I don’t trust her.”

Ouch.

“It’s her job, Keaton.”

“Then I’m out.”

No. No. No. This can’t be falling apart before I even start. Rhys promised a second man and I counted on that.

“We need you. We need 3 people and you’re the only person I trust,” Rhys argues. I wait silently because anything I say would only make matters worse.

Keaton glares at me. More than the animosity, I see hurt underneath the repulsion and hate. It’s not much different than the way he looked at me before I walked out of his life for what should have been forever.

“You owe me,” Rhys says and I know Keaton is in. Keaton may not trust me but he is loyal to a fault to those that earn it.

Stormy dark eyes land on me. His gaze moves over my body, slowly, like he’s actually seeing me for the first time since he found me in his apartment. He takes in my long, red hair and red lipstick. In a plaid skit and loose shirt that hang off one shoulder, I stand barefoot, my knee-high boots on his floor. I feel naked and exposed even though he’s seen it all before.

Keaton moves, fast and without hesitation, pushing me to the wall behind me. I swallow hard from the impact and the heat rolling off his chest. Memories of another time I was pinned under the wall by Keaton floods my mind unwanted. I feel my face turn pink.

“Listen to me, September,” he whispers. I resist the urger to shiver at the way my name comes out a growl. “Don’t screw us over. Don’t steal from us, lie, or get your ass in trouble.”

I gasp at the words he said to me the first time we met. I realize, with heartbreaking clarity that Keaton hates me more than when he first met me all those years ago. No matter how close we eventually became or everything we went through, I erased all that good. He pushes off me and toward the door they came in.

“Show her to the guest room. I’m going out.”

The door slams behind him and I stare at it, still pressed to the wall. Every cell in body is telling me to run. Leave Willow Creek and don’t look back. I’ve done it before and can do it again. But then I think of my mother in that facility and I remember why I am here.

Author Bio:

Alyne lives in Ohio with her husband, two dogs and cat. Working full time in an office all day, she spends her nights reading, writing or watching an entire TV series in a night. She refuses to grow up and loves Disney movies and anything with owls. She couldn't live without her coffee or her furry "children".

Alyne wrote her first novel titled "Light to the Darkness" in 2014.

To stay up to date on what Alyne is working on, teasers and more: Sign up for the newsletter. http://eepurl.com/YNdxj

She loves to connect with readers so feel free to stalk her!

Social Media Links:

Website: www.alyneroberts.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/AlyneRoberts

Twitter: www.twitter.com/AlyneRoberts

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/alyneroberts/

Instagram: https://instagram.com/alyneroberts/

[torixus]

56-year-old woman forgot the last 38 Years of her life after suffering Transient Global Amnesia

 This is a pure shocking development, as a 56-year-old woman from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, has reportedly forgotten the last 38 years of her life after a spitting headache. “If the memories don’t come back, I can make new ones,” Woman says as she suffers memory lost

56-year-old kim Denicola

The woman has been diagnosed with Transient Global Amnesia (TGA) just after she suffered a terrible headache apparently caused her to completely forget the last 38 years of her life. Last year within the month of October, the 56-year-old was seen leaving a bible study at a local church when she complained about an excruciating headache and Blurry vision to her husband on phone . He told her to go to the emergency room, but some friends found her passed out in the church parking lot and rushed her to the hospital. The first thing Denicola remembers from after that incident is lying in a hospital bed and a nurse asking her questions she apparently had all the wrong answers to. “She said, ‘Do you know what today is, what year are you in?’ I said, ‘Yeah, 1980.’ And she said, ‘Can you tell me who the president is?’ I said, ‘Yes, Ronald Regan.’ And she stopped,” Kim told Fox8.

“If the memories don’t come back, I can make new ones,” Woman says as she suffers memory lost

Things got even worse when a stranger walked into her room and grabbed her hand. When she saw tears in his eyes, she knew something was wrong. That man was David, her husband of 17 years, but she didn’t remember marrying anyone, let alone someone so much older than her. You see, the last thing Kim Denicola remembered from before her blackout was turning 18 in 1980. Everything from that point on, her marriage, giving birth to two children, basically the last 38 years of her life had been completely erased from her memory. “It is mind boggling,” Kim said. “When I found out I was married, I had two biological children, I have two boys that I raised that are my nephews, and I have three stepchildren, so that’s seven kids that I impacted in some way over those 38 years that I have no clue about.” Ever since that fateful day in October 2018, Kim Denicola has undergone several rounds of brain scans and medical exams, but doctors have been unable to come up with an explanation for her sever memory loss. She showed no signs of a stroke or brain damage, so she has been diagnosed with an extremely rare condition known as Transient Global Amnesia. But even as a TGA sufferer, Kim’s case stands out because of the long period of time she appears to have forgotten. “The time period of memory loss is longer. She’s recalling back to where she doesn’t remember computers, so that was back in the 80s or 90s, so that’s really unusual that you have that type of memory loss associated,” Dr Tasha Shamlin told Fox8. Sudden memory loss is usually temporary, but according to a recent report by Inside Edition, Kim Denicola’s strange amnesia has persisted for five months now. Her family, who she has gradually gotten reacquainted with, hoped that looking at old photos would help jog her memory, but so far that has not worked. Kim Denicola is currently rediscovering all the things that she has forgotten from the past 38 years, including mundane things like smartphones, computers and flat-screen TVs, and coming to to terms with tragedies she has no recollection of, like the deaths of her parents and brother. “They’re gone, but all these other ones I’m just going to learn what to do and how to, how to be their mom, at 18,” Denicola said. Upon all the challenges of waking up in a whole new world, surrounded by people she doesn’t remember meeting before, Kim Denicola is determined to make the best of her new life. “If the memories don’t come back, I can make new ones,” she said. What is Transient Global Amnesia?

what is the cause of Transient global amnesia?

It is an immediate, Temporary episode of memory loss that can't be attributed to a more common neurological condition, such as epilepsy or stroke. When someone suffers of transient global amnesia, they forget to remember recent events and makes their memory vanish The transient global amnesia, can only make you forget your memories but Will not take away your view about who you are and the person will recognize the people he know well. People within the age of 50 and older have a higher risk of transient global amnesia than do younger people.

The brain

Because the cause of transient global amnesia is unknown and the rate of recurrence is low, there's no real way to prevent the condition. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); via Blogger https://ift.tt/2TCo2F5