A sol who has been abandoned by Deity is one who is basically any other version of Sol's exact opposite. Nonexpressive, quiet, and incredibly subdued. Why should she pretend? Nothing matters anymore.
She probably develops some form of mutism, tbh. And not nearly as well-cared for as she would normally look. Her usually well-cared for curls would be limp straw, always tired-looking. Just not well.
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Okay if you haven't yet, and you have Netflix/Paramount+, consider giving "School Spirits" a chance.
It looks like a silly little cheesy teenage ghosts show, I put it on for background noise, and then got totally engrossed in the mystery. It's VERY well written, very well filmed, the mystery was GREAT and the payoff at the end is also great.
One of the things majorly lacking in shows I've recently tried to watch is that they try to do a twist/reveal at the end that comes out of nowhere. They don't want you to guess what they're doing. This show doesn't do that. This show wants you to guess. They give you seven different mysteries and enough clues to guess (most of) what is going on, so that when you get the final puzzle piece to any given mystery, it feels GREAT.
The story premise is this: a teenager in hs wakes up as a ghost in the hs, and doesn't remember how she died, and with the help of the other ghosts, tries to solve the mystery of her own death.
Simple premise. BEAUTIFULLY executed. Not all of the questions that arise get answered, but the main one (what she doesn't remember) gets solved by the end of the season, leaving the "why/how and what comes next" to be carried to the next season. It does a cliffhanger RIGHT. But now I desperately want to see the second season (which I believe has been approved, so it's a matter of waiting).
So pretty please, if you're looking for something to do and a great, engaging lil mystery to watch, consider! School Spirits!!
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Tentative writing plans:
Finish Little Zuko (it's so close guys, I have two chapters I haven't posted yet and 2-3 more to write and then that's all she wrote, literally)
Start poking at Cheating At Pai Sho; get at least to the "Season One Toph" part because Season One Toph is a MENACE the likes of which you cannot fully imagine. You think you can but unless you're imagining The Gaang's raw terror of her (and Zuko's complete obliviousness to said terror) then you cannot.
Blind Zuko story outline is currently with my sensitivity reader, and posting shall begin once applicable edits are made
Priority will of course be with book three of Fox's Tongue, aka The One That Pays My Grocery Bills, but that is where we're at for broad plans just now
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guess who's back, guess who's back?
me and i brought more arranged marriage AU writing. the last post was this one.
this post is shorter and features Asmo and Luci this time. Cause i needed to get some complaining Asmo in here.
Anyways thanks for reading, hope you like it :]
(and happy early birthday to Asmo!!! 🎂🎉 sorry for putting u in situations lmao)
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"Asmodeus stop hanging off me."
Lucifer tries to pull his brother off, but he doesn't budge. Asmodeus who was currently kneeling next to his study chair, continue to hold on to his arm with surprising strength.
"But you have to help me! Pleaseeeee!"
Lucifer lets out a deep sigh, continuing his work and looking through documents as if Asmodeus isn't there. "I already told you, Father's word was final."
"But-But there has to be a way to talk him out of this! And you're the only one he might listen to!"
"Trust me, the one suggestion I made was completely rejected. He's completely resolute about this marriage."
"Then make another suggestion!"
"Can you at least meet MC first before you throw a tantrum like a child? From what we've seen they're polite and mostly keep to themselves. So getting along with them should be easy for you as long as you don't do anything foolish."
"Hmmm…they sound kinda boring."
Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Behave when you actual meet them Asmo."
Asmodeus huffs and finally releases his older brother and instead begins pacing in front of his desk.
"But why does it have to be me? I know I'm a catch, but last time I checked, other people in this family weren't married!"
"I already explained this. Father expects you to be more involved in the socioeconomic affairs of the family. Which you've managed to avoid for years."
"Pssh but am I the only one though?"
Lucifer doesn't even bother answering him.
Asmodeus looks off to the side. Maybe he wasn't that involved in the more "serious" aspects that kept their family on top, but at least he went to all the important social events unlike Leviathan. That must count for something.
Though the idea of Leviathan getting married was definitely something he couldn't see happening any time soon. It might overload him. Only recently did his older brother start showing his face in public consistently….and it would be nice to see Levi fall in love naturally one day. Maybe he could convince him to go out on the town with him… Baby steps, baby steps.
Mammon was already married (surprisingly). Which much to his dismay, really cut a lot into their nights out. Though he would never admit it to his face.
Lucifer and Satan could probably avoid marriage if they wanted to, considering all they do.
All that left was Beelzebub and Belphegor. Shoveling off marriage to his younger siblings didn't feel right though.
Asmodeus visibly deflated. He sighs and flops down in the chair in front of Lucifer's desk. Even though he was doing this, he already knew it was over before it even began. It didn't stop him though. In fact, he had complained to Lucifer the day before.
And the day before that.
He'd cried to Satan and even bothered Mammon, who gave him terrible marriage "advice" that he made sure to tune out.
But it wasn't like him to not be at least a little persistent and complain when things weren't going his way!
And this was something worth complaining about. Him getting married? There's certain things marriage entailed right? Wouldn't he be expected to stop with his current lifestyle? Partying and playing around? Sharing his beautiful existence with the world? It just wasn't right!
He wouldn't do it, especially for a stranger.
Asmodeus crosses his arms. "….Are you sure I can't get out of this?"
"Asmo for the love of God. Father was serious about getting in this family's good graces, and this is a sure-fire way to do so. As you said so humbly, out of everyone here you're the most practical choice. And even if one of your brothers were picked instead, who says it won't be you the next time?"
Asmodeus's frown deepens. If he wanted to continue living such a comfortable life, he couldn't really just go against Father either. Even if he was okay with giving it all up, it was too scary.
"Meet them first. Now can you go find someone else to whine to. I'm busy."
Guess that was the end if the today's discussion.
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I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.
The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.
Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.
In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.
And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.
I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.
But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.
His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.
It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.
I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)
It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.
And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".
He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.
So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.
He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.
I love him. I miss him already.
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