#my grandparents are forcing my mother to COOK for 5 people when we have a flight like.

[thosefookinavacados]

Travel day my stomach is doing palpitations

[theeggoman]

Being "Too White" Is A Myth.

Sometimes I worry that I'm just a white person pretending to be Latino (because when you're mixed race you're always thinking that you're not enough) but then I remember how every single person in my foster home including the adults referred to me as a "Wetback" or a "Beaner" or a "Fat Mexican" or an "Alien" instead of simply calling me by my white sounding first name because to white people, you will never be enough. It doesn't matter how much or how little white blood you have, in America if you're mixed with a single drop of anything that isn't white, you're not and will never be white.

I wasn't white when I was being tackled and forced down naked on the floor by the police at 12, I wasn't white when I was put in ESL at 8 even though english is my first language, I wasn't white when Christian religious leaders were explaining how I was cursed with the Mark of Cain to have a "skin of blackness" and being Latino made me inherently evil, I wasn't white when I was being sexually assaulted at 5 because I was "naturally promiscuous" and "born looking older" and "asking for it," I wasn't white when I was tackled by boarder patrol in south Texas and detained over night in a holding facility until my grandparents could come get me out, I wasn't white when my friend's mom took me bra shopping and insisted she had to be in the dressing room while I changed to make sure I didn't steal anything, I wasn't white when the doctor wrote my fucking race on my birth certificate while I was being pushed out of my Mexican mother who had to spend hours dealing with the racist medical staff who refused to let my white father into the delivery room because they didn't believe I was his child.

And now I get on tik tok and see people accusing mixed race children of being "white washed." They say we don't experience racism because we're "white passing." They tell us we're grasping for straws and we're stealing from our own fucking culture. They say we're "spicy white," that our blood is diluted, that we're not real.

Are we not real in the same way that our country did not legally recognize our white parents until the 1960's? Are we not real in the same way that we were legally declared bastards who couldn't inherit our own father's last name, his property, his money, our childhood homes? Not real in the way we weren't permitted to attend our white parent's funerals by their white family members? Not real in the way we weren't issued fucking social security cards? Were we not real when our parents couldn't "really" legally get married? Were we not real when our POC parent was shot dead for daring to fall in love with a white person? Were we not real when were named after our POC grandmothers? Were we not real when our White grandmothers cried at our birth and asked why we had to come out "so dark?"

Am I not real when I light the candles on my Ofrenda on November 1st and 2nd, when I bring fresh carnations and Pan Dulce for my brother because he was too young to have a favorite candy for me to put at his grave? Am I not real when I spend 6 hours slow cooking bone broth for Birria after removing all the seeds from the Guajillo chilis so my white friends don't die? Am I not real when I translate for a single mom who wants to use the library printer? Am I not real when I braid my curls? When I wash the Serepa? When I run from owls?

And am I not real when I jam out to country music? When I go camping with my friends? When I celebrate Christmas before Three Kings Day? Am I not real when I choose to embrace both sides of my culture? When I put my foot down and decide I am not half of anything, I am entirely both?

I don't care if you think I'm too white. Don't put your insecurities on me just because you don't wanna learn Spanish.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Blood calls to blood.

It Does My Heart Good: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15

“That’s it, Rab!”

Jamie almost doubled over, breathing heavily, beaming with joy as his six-year-old son pedaled down the road on his bike, wobbling just a bit.

“No training wheels, Da!” Rab shouted, almost not believing it himself.

Jamie took deep, heaving breaths. “Claire!” he croaked. “Where are ye?”

Claire poked her head out of an upstairs window, peering down at her husband and son in the street. “What? Everybody all right?”

“Mama, look!” Just then Rab pedaled back to the house.

“Oh, lovie!” Quickly she darted inside, raced down the stairs, and flew out of the door, almost colliding with Jamie who still clutched to the mailbox to hold himself steady. 

Rab absolutely glowed, smiling ear to ear as he pedaled back and forth in front of his parents. “Look, Mama and Da!”

Slowly, carefully, Jamie pulled his phone from his front shirt pocket to take a video of Rab racing up and down the street, giddy with joy. 

“Has he fallen yet?” Claire asked, trying to not sound worried.

Jamie shrugged. “He’s a boy. It happens.”

“That’s not exactly comforting - ”

“Have ye had a message from Bree today?” he interrupted uncharacteristically.

Her brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

Jamie held out his phone so that his wife could see the screen. It was a text from Brianna, sent about half an hour previous: I need to see you and Claire tonight. We’re fine. I’ll explain later.

Silently Claire counted to five before responding. “Well I’m worried.”

Jamie watched as Rab ground the bike to a halt at the end of the road, stood up, caught his breath for a bit.

“I hope it isnae the bairn. She’d tell us, aye?”

Brianna and her husband Roger were expecting their first child - Jamie and Claire and John and Isobel’s first grandchild. It had been a surprise - Brianna had become pregnant only about three months after her wedding and six months after starting her new job, and although the two of them were young and early in their respective careers, they loved and cared for each other. And they could provide for a baby - a baby that clearly they both wanted.

Claire nodded. “She would. Same if it was some kind of problem with Roger. I know it’s been stressful, and that they’re still trying to plan for what they’ll do when she goes back to work.”

Jamie tucked his phone back into his pocket and wrapped an arm around Claire’s shoulder. “The puir child has four grandparents to care for it, not to mention two decrepit great-uncles who have gladly said they’ll be full-time carers.” That was true - Lamb and his partner Fez had told Brianna as much during the dinner they’d organized to celebrate her pregnancy. With Lamb retired and Fez on sabbatical for the next year - and with Isobel Grey only working part time, and with Jamie himself fully in control of his schedule at the bookstore, this child had an entire network of people to ensure his or her comfort and care.

“I can’t help but worry.” Claire sighed. 

Jamie squeezed her shoulder. “You’re her Mam. It’s your job to worry.”

Rab raced his bike down the road again, whizzing past them, hitting a rock, and wiping out in spectacular fashion.

“Thankfully he’s wearing his jeans today,” Claire muttered before racing over to her son, too drunk with joy to feel any pain.

---

“That’s a huge scrape you’ve got there,” Brianna politely observed as her brother showed off his skinned knees.

“Yeah. And I was even wearing pants! Mama said it was a good thing I didn’t wipe out in the dirt.”

Bree smiled, rubbing her six-month-pregnant belly. “That’s certainly true.”

“How old were ye when ye learned to ride a bike?” Jamie spooned up the last of the peas Claire had made to go with the roast chicken and mashed potatos she and Bree had cooked for dinner.

Brianna frowned, thinking. “I think I was about seven. It was the summertime, I remember that. I was wearing shorts, and my legs were covered in bruises and my arms were covered in mosquito bites.”

Rab wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

She laughed. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

Jamie swallowed his last bite and stood, pushing his chair away from the table. “All right, wee Rab. Help me clear the dishes. Bree - you and Claire can sit in the living room if ye like?”

Carefully Bree stood, stretching. “Sounds like a great idea.” 

Claire stood too, and took Bree’s hand. Bree squeezed it, and together they retreated to the soft chairs in the room off of the dining room.

For a while they sat next to each other on the couch, not speaking, listening to the low hum of Jamie’s voice speaking quietly to Rab and the clink of dishes and silverware as they washed and dried. Claire wanted Bree to make the first move, but soon enough Bree spoke.

“I had a realization this morning. Well, two, really. And I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Claire nodded. Patient.

Brianna looked down at her lap as she spoke. “The first is...I almost feel terrible for saying this, but I’m glad not just that you’re a doctor, but that you’re my mother, and I can talk to you about being pregnant and all of the weird things about it, because I can’t talk to my Mom about it.”

“Because she was never pregnant,” Claire said softly.

Bree nodded. “I feel terrible even thinking that - she’s the greatest Mom, and she’s known me all of my life, but -”

“But it helps to talk to someone who has experienced it firsthand. I understand.”

“I remember when you were pregnant with Rab - I  remember asking you all about it, and learning about it. Because I’d never had that growing up. But it’s all so different now.” She paused. “I feel terrible even saying that about my Mom.”

Gently Claire rubbed the back of her daughter’s hand. “Don’t feel bad. I think she’d understand. And I’m so glad that I can help you, Bree. That this is another thing we can share.”

Bree swallowed, still not looking up at her. Claire felt her daughter’s hands shake with emotion.

“Are you all right, honey? Is everything all right with Roger?”

Bree let out a breath. “Oh, Claire, he’s so wonderful. He takes such good care of me. He’s a goofball and it’s really, really endearing.”

“I’m so glad you have that love in your life. Having a child with the man you love - it’s an incredible experience.”

Inexplicably Bree began to sob. Working from an instinct she couldn’t even begin to name, Claire leaned in to hold her daughter close. Comforting her, sheltering her as she cried and cried and cried.

“What’s wrong?” she crooned softly. “You can tell me anything, lovie.”

Brianna hugged Claire even tighter. “The other thing I realized today,” she whispered, “is that I can’t even begin to imagine my life without this baby in it. And then I realized that that’s exactly what you had to do, with me.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Claire rubbed her back soothingly. “That was different. I was unmarried and alone.”

“But still - I feel such a bond with him already, and I can’t imagine disrupting that. For most of the time before I was born, you knew me - and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep me.”

“Yes. But I made that choice. Jamie and I made that choice together, because it was the best choice we could make for you.”

“I can’t even imagine making that choice.” Bree took a deep, shaky breath. “And it really, really hit me today. I feel like I finally understand. And I want you to know...” Now she pulled back to look at Claire, wiping away the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I want you to know that I love you so much more for what you did for me. Because I don’t know if I’d ever have the strength to do that.”

Tears welled in Claire’s own eyes. “Jamie said something to me, before we left each other in Glasgow, during those few precious weeks we had together when we knew you were coming and before I came back to Boston. He said - love forces a person to choose. You do things you never imagined you could do before.”

Bree smiled tearfully. “He’s right.”

Claire wiped away her tears, and cradled her cheek. “Of course he is. I kept saying that to myself over and over and over before you were born, and after you were born, and after I’d moved to North Carolina.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier today when I texted Jamie. I just - ”

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

Just then Rab darted into the room, oblivious to his sister’s tears. “Ice cream for dessert?”

Bree sniffed and looked at her watch. “Roger should be here in fifteen minutes or so. Mind if we wait until  then?”

Rab careened out of the room, intent on setting another place at the dining room table.

“Had I not made an adoption plan for you, Bree - I never would have had Rab.”

Bree turned to her mother, incredulous. “Oh my God. You’re right.”

Claire smiled tightly. “So. Everything is worthwhile. You never know the happiness that will come from the sadness.”

Bree squeezed her hands. “My life has become so much happier with you and Jamie in it. And Rab, too.”

Claire’s heart soared. “Oh, lovie. Ours too. Ours too.”

[beautifulweird0]

Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you.

My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.

   Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created…

Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me.

    I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” .

Think about it...

Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

    So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms.

I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

   This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period.

   I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!).

Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.

    It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).

     So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right?

Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?

     Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.

Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.

I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚).

But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.

Don’t get it confused,  my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess.

 The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them.

My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything.

However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess.

My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart.

Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand.

He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness.

I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love?

I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

[magick-sims]

20 Gen. Disney Princess Challenge- Sims 4

Generation 1: Snow White "I'm wishing for the one I love to find me today"

Founders have humble beginnings, so what's better than Snow White? To start, create Snow White. Storytellers may create her as a teenager and make her evil stepmother, but this is not a requirement. When Snow White becomes a young adult, this story begins.

- Must be female

- Must have 7 children (dwarfs)

- Each child must have one negative trait (e.g Gloomy, Glutton)

- Each child must have the same baby daddy

- Each child must achieve something before their teenage years - this can be reaching level 5 in a toddler skill, reaching level 3 in all toddler skills, completing their childhood aspiration, or becoming an A grade student in school

- Snow may never answer the door to strangers or talk to elderly women

[EPS]: Parenthood - each child must age up with at least one positive character trait. This number can be increased if you're looking for more of a challenge.

Generation 2: Cinderella "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep"

Although you had six brothers and sisters, you always did the cooking and cleaning. Yet, somehow you loved it, as it transported you away from your chaotic home life. When Cinderella becomes a teenager, this story begins.

- Must have 'Neat' and 'Foodie' traits

- Must clean the house everyday and cook every meal

- May not marry until mother dies (This does not have to be of old age, but it may not be cheated)

- Have a maximum of 3 children

Generation 3: Tiana "The only way to get what you want in this world is through hard work"

Your family has barely accomplished anything over the past two generations, and you're here to change that. This story begins when Tiana becomes a YA.

- Must have 'Ambitious' trait

- Father must die before end of YA

- Must have food Aspiration

- Must marry a Sim with green (This can be hair, eyes, skin etc)

[EPS]: Dine Out - Tiana must own and run her own restaurant

Generation 4: Aurora "I walked with you once upon a dream"

Thanks to your mother's hard work, you have everything you always wanted in life, apart from love. Your father was overprotective of you, and rarely let you out of the house. This story begins when Aurora becomes a YA.

- Must have the 'Lazy' trait.

- May only have 3 or less friends. (Family can count if you wish)

- Must meet future spouse at night while parents are asleep

- Elope (you can run away if you wish)

- Have a maximum of 2 children - (twin girls are preferred if playing Anna or Elsa next)

Generation 5: Anna "We only have each other, it's just you and me"

Your sister locked you away and you never knew why. As toddlers, you were the best of friends but now all you have are dreams. When Anna is a child, this story begins.

- Lose all contact with your sister until YA

- Find love with a criminal

- Experience near death at the hands of your lover

- Find someone new after becoming BFFs with your sister

- Marry, have one child

Generation 6: Rapunzel "You were wrong about the world, and you were wrong about me"

Your mother never trusted you or the outside world. You never knew of her past, and never wanted to. All you ever got was solitude, but that didn't matter. When Rapunzel is a teenager this story begins

- Must have 'Loner' and 'Art Lover' traits

- Must reach at least level 8 painting before YA

- May only ever leave the house for school

- May never have friends until wedding

- Elope - you have no friends anyway, have kids

Generation 7: Belle "People think I'm odd, so I know how it feels to be different"

You always loved books and visited the library often. You never cared for looks, just beauty within. Everyone wanted you, but you turned them all down. You wanted to chose your own destiny. When Belle becomes a YA, this story begins.

- Must have 'Bookworm' trait

- Date at least 5 men

- Meet the man of your dreams - an ugly Sim

- Marry, have kids

- Your spouse becomes beautiful (Changed in CAS) after first born child

Generation 8: Mulan "Could it be, that if I were truly to be myself, I would break my family's heart"

Your parents always wanted you to bring fortune back to the family and marry someone of high status, but you didn't dream of love, you dreamed of glory. When Mulan becomes a YA this story begins

- Must have 'Active' trait

- Must join Astronaut career

- Fall in love with a co-worker once you reach the top of the career choice

- Marry, have kids

Generation 9: Jasmine "A whole new world, a hundred thousand things to see"

You hated being rich and living like a princess. You find comfort in Raja, but nowhere else. All your father wants is for you to marry rich, but you want a life without riches. When Jasmine becomes a teenager this story begins.

- Have a best friend (Raja)

- You cannot leave the house unless it is for school

- Must marry a poor street rat

- Lover must be in the criminal career

- Have a maximum of 4 children

[EPS]: Cats and Dogs - Raja must be a pet and reach companions while children

Generation 10: Merida "If you had the chance to change your fate, would you?"

You always wondered why your mother gave up her riches for a poor boy. Your adventures lead you into trouble, and you were nearly always grounded. When Merida becomes a teenager this story begins.

- Have the 'Self Assured' trait

- Lose your siblings and mother in an unfortunate accident

- Seek out a way to change the past but fail

-marry and have more than one child

Generation 11/optional 5 : Elsa "Yes I'm alone, but I'm alone and free"

Your parents always questioned where your powers came from. You were a quiet type after... the accident. All you wanted was to be alone, unable to harm anyone. When Elsa becomes a teenager, this story begins.

- Must have the 'Loner' trait

- Must not talk to siblings until YA

- Must be different in some way

- Run away as a teenager (Storytellers may have her sister find her and bring her home)

- Never marry and only have one child (it was an accident, you swear by it)

Generation 12: Pocahontas "You think I'm an ignorant savage, you've been so many places, I guess it must be so."

You come from different worlds, yet the love of your life is forbidden by your family. When Pocahontas becomes a teenager this story begins.

-Fall in love with a "different" kind of Sim

-Marry that "different" kind of Sim.

-Run away and elope

-Have a maximum of 4 kids

Generation 13: Megara "I won't say (I'm in love)"

You never had much attention as a child, but you didn't mind, everyone only seemed to do you wrong. Now you're set on finding love just as your mother before you but just as life before things aren't as easy as they seem. When Megara becomes a toddler this story begins.

-must have the 'Independent' trait as a toddler and max all skills

-must have the 'Loner', 'Unflirty', and 'Free spirited' traits after aging up

-must join some kind of club of only women

-must marry a man she meets at the gym (her hercules), any man she has a romantic interest in that she doesnt marry they must despise each other

-may only have 1 child

Generation 14: Giselle "I guess a new experience, could be worth trying"

You grew up in a perfect fantasy world where everything was perfect for you but when you grow up a tragic event leaves your family broke and you have no choice but to leave home and face the real world. When Giselle becomes a YA this story begins.

-must have 'loves animals', and 'perfectionist' traits

-must move out of her family home to a different city

-cannot marry her first love

-must marry someone who is married already and has at least 1 child, they then can have their own children only once they get married

Generation 15: Elena "Born to lead with fire in her soul, grace in her heart. This is her time."

You grew up as a princess in a kingdom full of magic, but at a young age you were forced away from your parents to find your own way in life. When Elena becomes a teenager, this story begins.

-she, along with any siblings, must live with her grandparents

-traits: 'ambitious', and 'kindness ambassador'

-must be in the politician career and work your way up to national leader

-after achieving this she may marry and have children

Generation 16: Moana "One day I'll know, how far I'll go"

You grew up as the heir to a legacy, born to rule over others; however you want to explore and see the world. You know your choices make you who you are and you hope that one day they will show you the world. When Moana becomes a teenager, this story begins.

- Must have the the 'Loves the Outdoors' trait.

- Must have 'Curator' aspiration

- Must have a close relationship with her Grandmother (who dies before Moana becomes a YA)

- Run away from home and meet Maui and become BBFs with him.

- Marry and have children (7 if ariel is the next generation, does not have to be the same father, all girls, ariel is last born)

Generation 17: Ariel "Someday I'll be part of your world"

You've always loved the water and dreamed of becoming a mermaid. Sadly, this never came true but you did find the man of your dreams, and that was good enough. When Ariel becomes a teenager this story begins.

- Must have a 'Loves the Outdoors' trait

- Must own a pool and swim in it everyday

- Must marry a beautiful Sim with at least one trait the same as your own

- Have kids

[EPS] Island Living - Ariel is a mermaid, adjust the above rules to fit the EP.

Generation 18: Melody "What's too dangerous?"

You always wanted to be a mermaid like your mother but you didn't get so lucky. You were always kept away from anything too adventurous as your parents saw danger at every turn. When Melody becomes a teenager this story begins.

-must have somekind of socially akward trait, and an adventurous trait

-must gain the cold resistance trait from points store

-must have at least level five skill in dancing and singing

-must find merkelp and become a mermaid without buying or cheating for it

-must marry a merman

-have twins(1 girl and 1 boy) and adopt 1 child(sofia)

Generation 19: Sofia the First "The new girl in crown"

You were adopted into a rich, noble family, very different from the orphange you grew up in. You plan to learn to be the perfect princess unlike your mother before you. When Sophia is a child this story begins.

-must max the following skills: charisma, piano, singing, and violin before becoming a young adult

-must have a good relationship with her two siblings

-must complete any degree at university while living at home

-may only move away from home after marrying and then they may have as many children as they like

Final, Generation 20: Venelope "You really are a bad guy"

You're different than your perfect ancestors before, you've never fit in so you're here to be the best despite what everyone thinks of you. You want to take down the big bad guys in town even though your childish ways may have you stumble along the way. When Venelope becomes a YA this story begins.

-must have 'Childish' trait

-(bonus)have to get an A in school before aging up

-rank up to triple agent in the secret agent career

-take down Nancy Landgrab one way or another

-eventually live in a big mansion and do what you want because you have completed all the generations

[shnztnsdr]

Must Be Her

A short story by Shien Zoe Tan Sudario

“The food that you eat affects your health, your energy level, your mood, even your behavior because you are what you eat.”

You are what you eat, funny as it is. I yawned upon hearing this statement for the nth time from these speakers. I get it though, this orientation talks about health and trying to change the generation’s bad eating habits. One word to describe this event. Boring.

Hours passed and finally the event is done, there will be no class due to the orientation we had earlier so might as well head to the bar and have some fun.

As I enter the bar, the smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the air, illuminated only by the eye-sore bar lights. The smell of beers and body odors consumed the place.

I leaned on the bar counter, my long black hair lying over one shoulder of my designer dress. I tilted my head to one side pushing out my red lips a little. I’m not yet drunk but I’d like to give everyone the impression. I’ve been doing this kinda stuff a lot of times now. If the professors aren’t around or there will be no class, I immediately head to bars and parties. Even ditched class just to experience bar hopping, probably the nicest hobby I have.

“Where have you been?!” A very welcoming message as I took a step inside the house. Instead of giving a response, I turned my back and pretended I did not hear them.

“Your mother is asking you, Riley! Where are your manners?”

Before I could state my answer, a slap as loud as a clap stung my face. My father slapped me. I shouldn’t be hurt but I can’t contain my emotions, my tears are slowly building up in my eyes, this happens often.

“What happened?”

I close my eyes, heave a deep sigh and plaster a smug look on my face.

“Oh! The favorite daughter is here.” I stated bitterly while looking into my father’s eyes.

“You did something stupid again Riley? When will you be a proper woman?” Here she goes again with her unending sermon.

“Riley! Why can’t you be like your sister?” Mom’s favorite line. I just rolled my eyes.

I can’t take their selfish dramas anymore so hurriedly went up stairs to my room and their voice calling me echoed in the four corners of the house.

“Good morning class!”

“Good morning Ms. Amethyst.”

Here we go again with these boring classes but take note, this is way more “better” than staying in that house with people filled with toxin.

“As ordered by our Chairman, I will be going to check the food you brought in connection with the orientation yesterday. Our cafeteria is temporarily closed so you are tasked to bring your own food.”

Now, this is the disadvantage of boring lectures. I can’t remember this matter being announced or maybe I didn’t listen.

Lots of groans and frowns consumed the classroom. Who wouldn’t? Are we some bunch of kindergartens to bring our own food and lunch boxes?

“Miss! We didn’t bring our own, what should we do?” Common sense, dude. There’s no such thing as consideration in this university.

“Okay. Since you didn’t bring your own food then you’re going to be punished. You guys will cook for the whole week and disseminate it to everyone.” Now this is beyond the limitations. Me? Cooking? For everyone? No way.

“Miss, isn’t that too big for a responsibility?” Asked my classmate.

“No it’s not because there are many of you.” How dare she smile after making everything hard for us.

“And don’t forget, choose healthy foods because you are what you eat. That’s all for today.”

More periods passed and my mind passed away. That’s corny. Whatever. I’m going to claim another day for my free trial to hell, I just hope they’re not yet home so I can rest peacefully.

“Miss Riley! The counselor wants you to visit her office.” A random stranger told me.

“Thanks!”

What is it this time? Ugh! My fantasy of hugging my pillows vanished.

Knock three times and open the door. “Good afternoon, Ma’am. Is there something I can do for you?”

“There’s no good in the afternoon Miss Adriano. I’ll be straight to the point, you have failing grades. I already informed your parents about this. You may go.” Oh crap.

“But Ma’am—”

“No buts, Miss Adriano. You may leave now.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Tsk. If only you can be like your sister.” I heard her say before I went out of her office.

“Mom, Dad, my scholarship was granted.”

“Oh that’s great, sweetie!”

I heard a cough, a fake cough to be exact and that means I have to face them. I sighed and went to the dining area to see my so-called family.

“Care to tell us something?”

“I have failing grades. Is that what you want to hear?”

“And you are proud of that huh?!”

“If that is how you perceive it so be it.”

“Let’s eat first.” The perfect child said.

A heavy silence settled over us and it’s very amusing, a thick uneasy tension in the atmosphere with only the utensils are clanging.

A fake cough my Dad made dominated the whole room.

“Your sister passed the scholarship examination for college. I wanted you to take that examination when you reach your senior year, but with your failing grades? I doubted if you can make it. Such a shame.”

Yes, Dad. Shame on me.

“Are you even listening to me,Riley?!” He reached the limit.

“Your father is talking to you, Riley!” So what?

“Riley, show some respect to Mom and Dad!”

“I already told you that I have failing grades! Isn’t that what you wanna hear? Huh? What else do you want? You can’t do anything about it! And stop acting like you need me to have that high grades because you don’t! You already have the perfect child so just focus on her!”

My eyes brimmed with tears as I told them my thoughts.

A loud thud of a slammed wooden table shut me.

“You are such a disgrace to this family!”

Dad walked out, “You should be like your sister.” Mom stated before following Dad. My older sister gave me a disappointing look before leaving the room.

“Ha! What a disgrace and a disappointing human being.” Trying to compose myself.

I’m so sick of this set up. The comparison is killing me. Why do I have to be like other people when I can be myself? Why should I follow their steps when I have my own map? Why are they forcing me to like everyone else? This is totally a free trial to hell. A deep sigh for this day.

My older sister, always the kind soul everybody loves. The definition of perfection according to them. The epitome of beauty and brains. Ever since I was born in this world, I have become her shadow. The black sheep and the total opposite of her. Our personalities contradict, she’s the positive and I’m the negative.

The next few days flies so fast, just the same routine with their undying sermons and comparison. But this day is different, our maternal grandparents will stay in our house for a week and they are the worst.

“So how was your studies, ladies?”

“Doing great, lola. My scholarship for college was granted.”

“That’s amazing, Piper. How about you, Riley?”

I heard nothing.

“Riley!” Dad using his mad voice.

“Total opposite of her, lola. I have failing grades.” I stated without looking at them.

They all shot me a disappointing look. What’s new? I told you I'm a walking disappointment.

“Why?” Lolo’s trying to sound calm.

“I don’t know. It just happened.”

“Does the support we gave isn’t enough, Riley?” Lola asked. Support? Ha!

“Support?” I scoffed. “Ah financial support. Yes, it’s enough.”

“I’m talking about the moral support, Riley!”

“Moral support?” Now I can’t help but laugh. “You gave moral support? When? I can’t remember.”

Grandpa slammed the table causing everyone to jump, well not me.

“You don’t have manners! You should be like your sister, Riley. Be responsible.” That phrase again. Sigh.

I can’t take their dramas anymore so I decided to stand up and proceed to my room without looking back. I don’t want them to see me, they’re not worth my tears. I can’t control it anymore.

Bell rings. Time for dismissal but going home isn’t on my choices. It’s already 5 pm and I am walking along this lonely street with the rain pouring on my skin. I love this feeling, getting soaked and no one will notice my tears. Walking alone has been my comfort zone, I can be myself and completely free from the comparisons although I have to be careful because sometimes I get careless and I can’t control myself. It’s like I am someone else, I must admit I love when I get reckless. But I made a mess the last time.

“Why can’t you be more like your sister?”

“Your sister is so lovely and smart.”

“Be more like her.”

“Your sister is way better than you.”

“You must stop it.”

Their voices are echoing in my mind. But the last one caught me. It is way more painful than being punched by goons.

My phone rang and made me jolt back from my reverie. Good thing I put it inside my bag so it won’t get wet. I stayed on the shed I saw earlier and grabbed my phone.

“Oh c’mon!” Damn I wish my phone got wet! Guess who’s calling?

“Riley where the hell are you?!” This is their way of greeting me through the phone.

“Somewhere in hell, Mom!” I yelled back.

“Answer me properly you psycho!” Psycho huh? Makes sense.

“You don’t care!”

“Go home now brat! Your sister is missing!” She yelled before turning off the call.

What now if she’s missing? As if there is something I can do with it. Well, maybe there is or there was.

“Find Piper! Please! Find my daughter!” Heard my mom begging the police officers.

“We’ll do everything we can to find her, Ma’am. We will go now.” The officer stated before exiting the house.

“You! Your sister is missing and you’re acting like nothing’s happening? Huh?! How dare you! And why are you soaking wet? You did something stupid again?!”

All the frustrations they have were fired on me.

I don’t want to live here anymore. I couldn’t take all their blame so I did what I always do. Immediately proceed to my room.

“Where is that?! Ugh!” Damn I can’t find my bracelet. It’s the only remembrance I have from my paternal grandfather. It’s very important because he is the only person who really cared for me but he already died years ago. How stupid am I to forget about it! Oh dang! It’s already 8:00 am in the morning. The weather is not yet too hot. I wonder if they found her already.

A loud knock made me stop from finding my bracelet. It’s very loud that the person behind it wants to break it.

“Ye—?”

Before I could ask what’s the problem, I felt a sting on my cheek. That slap hurts. Another slap followed by another and another. Damn.

“You bitch! How could you? I can’t believe you!”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Mom?”

“Are you looking for this? Huh? This is yours right?” Wait. That’s the bracelet I was looking for.

“T-that’s mine. Give it to me.” I tried grabbing it from her but she threw it away. I was shocked for the next thing she did, her hand cracks across my face causing my head to reel sickeningly as it slams into the wall behind me. This time I am losing my consciousness as black dots starting to cover my vision.

I woke up in a small room, all white, only one window is here and it’s very high to reach. Is there even a door here?

“Where on earth am I?” I heard a noise. Someone is opening something.

There, answering my question. A hidden door opened by a man in a white coat together with a man in a coat. Based on my observation, it’s a doctor and a detective. But what shocked me the most is the people after them, my parents. Their eyes are swollen. I saw Dad gripping Mom’s hand like he’s trying to stop her from doing something.

“M-mom? D-dad?”

“Don’t call me that! You are not our daughter, you are a psychopath!” What?

I made an awkward laugh. “What do you mean, Mom? Is there something wrong?”

“I said don’t call me that! How dare you?! You are seriously asking me that, huh!? To answer your question, yes! There is something wrong! Something’s wrong with you! You are a crazy woman!”

She’s trying to get away from Dad’s grip. She wants to come near me, she wants to hurt me.

Don’t let her hurt you, Riley. Don’t let them.

“Stop! Stop! Who are you!? Stop telling me what to do! Stop!”

I’m the only one who cares for you, Riley. Not them, not even your grandfather. No one cares for you except me.

“Aaaahhhhhhhh!!” I screamed as much as I could. I can’t take this anymore.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! You are all fools! HAHAHAHA. She’s way more powerful than all of you! HAHAHAHAHA!”

“What are you doing, Riley!? Stop it!”

“I won’t tell you hahahaha! She’ll get mad at me!”

“Who is she Riley?”

“Her!” I pointed to the girl sitting beside me.

“She told me to shut my mouth.”

My cheeks hurt again. Mom slapped me again.

“You bitch! How dare you slap me, huh?!”

“You deserve every pain in this world!” Shouted my Dad.

“What the hell is wrong with you!? Last time I checked, you want me to be like her! To be like Piper! You scolded me a lot of times for not being like her! Now that I tried to be like her, I am still scorned?! Why?!”

I tried to be like her, didn’t I? I mean, ‘you are what you eat after all’.

[medea10]

Medea Rambles - Parents in the Pokemon Anime

If you watched Pokemon the way I have for the last 20 years, you start to notice things along the way and start to get a little curious.

Take the second episode of the original series for example. A simple line that might have come and gone. When Ash reaches Viridian City and his mother mentions that it took Ash’s father four days to reach that town. You probably won’t give it a second thought especially if you just started the series.

Fast-forward another year or so and you start to question about Ash’s father a little more. You only see Delia. And at times you’ll see Delia being accompanied by Professor Oak. Go a little further and you watch the third Pokemon movie. Sure this guy Professor Hale has a wife and child, but what kind of past does he share with Delia? More years pass by and you start keeping this question in the back of your mind. Who is Ash’s father? And along the way, you’ve compiled several theories on that question. And for added drama, you might have added Giovanni from Team Rocket to this paternity suit. And then you meet some of Ash’s other companions and notice that some of them are also without another parent...or just flat out DON’T have any parents (to our knowledge).

Don’t get me wrong, I love how Pokemon has given us different families to look at throughout the years. From Ash’s small family with Delia, to May’s family, to Clemont and Bonnie’s father, and despite it being dysfunctional as fuck, Brock’s family, we see different things.

But when I see single parents like Delia, Johanna, Grace, Meyer, and Abe (and if you’re not keeping up that’s Ash, Dawn, Serena, Clemont, and Mallow’s parents), I often wonder what happened to their partner. I don’t find anything wrong with this. Single parents rule! I was raised by a single parent and have the highest respect for them. I just get curious is all. I’m sure everyone else does too. I know I spent just about 20 years speculating who was behind Ash’s creation. And I know we will never know Ash’s father’s true identity. Though thanks to a certain light novel, we can officially squash any chances of it being Professor Oak, Professor Hale, or Giovanni. I know it seems wasteful to bring up the parents of this show. I mean, they send their child out at the ripe-old age of 10 to catch wild monsters in a ball and get caught up in butt-loads of trouble. Meanwhile, they stay at home or do their routine day-to-day jobs like proper adults. But we have to remember this one thing.

THEY BROUGHT THESE CHARACTERS INTO THIS WORLD! Delia didn’t spend God-knows-how-long to squeeze Ash out of her lady clown-car to not get a mention or appearance every now and then. So yes, mention these parents! In most cases, they’re great, offer great comedic relief, a home-cooked meal every now and then, and there to wipe away the tears. Well...those are the good ones. Brock and James had some interesting families. And I use the term ‘interesting’ loosely. I will mention Jessie’s train-wreck of a life later. And then there are those characters whose parents are never mentioned. While Misty has three older sisters, her parents are never mentioned or seen. Iris’s parents are never mentioned and all we know about her is that she was probably taken care of by the village elder (not even a grandparent). Cilan has his brothers Cress and Chili, and once again, no mention of parents. And then there’s Tracey...Okay, here she goes again!

*sighs dreamily* TRACEY! No mention of parents. Not a damn thing. We’re not even sure if Tangelo Island (the island where Ash and Misty first met him on) is where he’s originally from. Yes, I’m guilty of writing fanfics of Pokemon and decided to add backstories to characters like Tracey, yes especially Tracey because he’s worth it and deserves it. I’ve written fics where his mother dies when he was younger, fics where she’s just sickly, and other ones where she’s perfectly fine and she’s actually there. And while I was at it, I had Misty’s parents be on constant business trips, Ash’s real father died in a car accident, and Dawn’s father did bad things (that’s the cleaned-up spoiler-free version of it) That’s the fun of writing fanfics. It’s fun to imagine your favorite characters with things the show would never think of doing or bother throwing a bone to. It’s been 13 years Pokemon. Are you gonna show my anime husbando or not? Tick-tock. Needless to say, the Pokemon anime has been rather lax about the identity of these missing parents. And people without a trusty search engine or are not fluent in Japanese are shit-outta-luck. Because some of these characters have some interesting, sad, and down-right fucked up family back-stories.

On the anime’s surface, there are only a few standard families shown. May and Max have their parents Norman and Caroline. And despite having one almost fall-out episode in mid-AG season, they’re quite the happy family. Sophocles’s parents are quite the cute-lovey type and because they look too much like each other, I’m starting to have other theories. Like are Sophocles’s parents brother and sister...like Milhouse’s parents? (don’t be silly Medea, they’re not). And the same happiness can be said about Kiawe and Lana’s families.

And then you have the single-parent household as seen with Dawn, Serena, Clemont, Bonnie, and Mallow. I’ll get to Mallow later.

Brock... *sighs* Yeah, fun times with this one. As we all remember from episode 5 (and in the dub), his mother died and his father ran off, leaving Brock alone to take care of the 10 brothers and sisters. In actuality, Lola left the kids in Brock’s care, she didn’t die. Imagine my shock in 2004 when I learned that Pokemon Chronicles was a thing and that the bitch was alive and well this entire time. Thanks a lot 4Kids. Even when Lola and Flint are around, they often leave and do erratic actions. And usually it’s up to the eldest siblings (Brock and Forrest) to take charge. Trust me, their doofy behaviors have lead to the Pewter Gym to almost be shutdown several times. So, they’re not the best of parents.

Lillie and Gladion gets a little complicated. In the games, we all saw that Lusamine wasn’t a very caring mother and would put her work ahead of her children. She even downright verbally disowned them at one point. Harsh. The anime decided to be nicer to Lusamine. Yes, she’s dedicated to her work, but also cares for her children Lillie and Gladion (though Lillie had her own reservations about her mother early on). Lusamine even sacrificed herself to the Ultra Beast in order to save Lillie. That’s a mother for you! Where does it get complicated? The father, Mohn. In the games he disappeared while researching the Ultra Beasts. And in the anime, Gladion and Lillie have assumed that he has passed away. But thanks to revelations in SM108, there’s hope for both as Mohn could still be alive. I just fear that his memories will be gone like in the games.

James of Team Rocket had one of the best backstories in the entire anime with the one episode Holy Matrimony back in season one. I’m actually surprised they kept a lot of things in tact in the English dub. Yes, both of his parents are alive and they are horrible people. Faking their deaths to try and drag James back home and force him to marry a dominatrix. Yeah, Pokemon has some fucked-up backstories. Time for it to get more fuckier! Again, if you’re not fluent in Japanese or haven’t lived in Japan during the height of the Pokemon fandom, you probably didn’t know these existed. RADIO DRAMAS! Yes, Pokemon had them! And with that, Jessie’s backstory time!

In the dub, we were pretty sure that Jessie was either very poor or in an orphanage and very poor. In actuality, Jessie’s mother was a high-ranking member of Team Rocket and left her daughter at a young age in order to search for Mew. And because Miyamoto was never heard from again, Jessie was sent into foster care. Wonder why the anime never wanted to cover that little detail about Jessie! Kinda shines a light on how sad it was that she used to eat snow for dinner.

And then between 1997-1999, Takeshi Shudo (creator of the Pokemon anime) came out with the light novel, Pocket Monsters The Animation. And that’s where we learn a little more about several original characters. Ash’s mother Delia was indeed a young mother. She met a man, got married, and had Ash when she was around 18-19 years. And in a flash, Ash’s father left on a journey and hasn’t been back since.

Brock’s mother Lola married and divorced SEVERAL men after Flint left the family. Most of Brock’s siblings are just half-siblings, if not all of them. Do you know why Brock keeps hitting on older women? He wants to bring one home to be a mother to the young siblings. DAMN. And as for Misty, her parents left Misty and her sisters. Yeah, you’re gym leaders now. Laters! Okay, I can see why the Pokemon anime decided to be a little laxer when it comes to some of these stories. Abandonment is not a happy story to write for an age-appropriate anime like Pokemon. And maybe because of the rate of women having babies at younger ages, they probably didn’t want to show that Delia was one of them. And then Brock’s story...Yikes, man! Yeah, stories like Delia, Lola, Misty’s parents, and even Jessie’s mother might be a little much for little children to absorb. Or so people thought in the 90s when Pokemon first debuted. Nowadays, there’s so much in western media and even anime that has advanced from just 20 years ago. Look at how parents are portrayed in western animation like The Loud House and Steven Universe. Who knows, Gen8 of Pokemon could possibly give us a same-sex family (one can only hope).

In the latest episode of Pokemon (Sun & Moon episode 108), we get an unanswered question of a character’s parent. All we knew about Mallow was that she has a father and a brother. This being the 20th year watching Pokemon and have gotten so used to seeing characters in single family homes, I decided not to give it a second thought and write fics later down the line. That was until a couple of weeks ago when we learn about an upcoming episode involving a pokemon and communicating with the dead. And we get a screenshot of Mallow crying. Holy shit. Is Pokemon really going to do this? Or is this going to be a bait and switch?

Guess what, they gave us a story about Mallow’s mother. They even went the extra mile to show us that she was actually sick in the hospital and mention how Mallow’s anger-induced words were her final words to her mother. In this episode, we see Mallow reunited with her deceased mother even for just a moment. I’m glad we got an episode like this. There are children who have lost a parent at a young age and sometimes don’t know how to deal with the feelings that come up pre, during, or post-death. And many of us wish we could say one last unresolved feeling to that loved one again. Mallow definitely wanted to see her mother again and she got to say what she wanted to and even hug her before she disappeared.

DAMN POKEMON. Mother/daughter moments are like my absolute weakness. And while I didn’t cry, I still felt the feels deep in my soul. That also means Misty and Togetic’s goodbye is still my #1 for saddest Pokemon moments. However THIS is now #2.

I honestly think Pokemon is evolving when it comes to stories about the character’s parents. And other heavy subjects including death. Writers are seeing that children are more mature than they originally thought. In the last two years, Pokemon has talked about death 4 times (three of those were pokemon deaths). God only knows what the English dub will do to this episode. We’re getting more heart-wrenching stories from this series. I’m glad I kept with watching Pokemon well into my adult years. Cut through a lot of the crap and sometimes, you get little gems like this. I can’t wait to see if Pokemon has it in them to continue giving us stories like Sun & Moon episode 108 (and others) or even on the same level as the radio dramas and Pocket Monsters light novel. Maybe not the Brock story. Okay, I think that’s all I wanted to talk about here.

[ezeelife-blog1]

Kissing Boys, Dreaming Girls

Me.

Since the age of 5 I knew I was different.

I mean, I was the same as other kids when it came to toys, cartoons, films and music…but when it came to who I wanted to play with, and get a cuddle from…it was always about girls.

But this was weird! Every romantic scene on TV would involve a boy and a girl – never a girl and another girl. So what was wrong with me? Surely I needed to stop these feelings, and try and be ‘normal’.

This is my earliest memory how I would suppress my true self. And I became really good at it. So much so, I forced myself to find guys attractive. And it worked. I had crushes on boy bands, actors, even the odd friend at school.

Year 8, and I had my first boyfriend. Michael was a cool guy, one of the coolest in my year. We broke up after a week – actually after our first kiss (which was awful!!). I remember thinking how much I wished it was nicer, because then I could stop thinking about girls. But I didn’t. I knew kissing a girl would have been nicer, softer, and way more exciting than what I had just experienced.

And so I carried on through my school and university years this way. Dating boys, but dreaming girls.

Not once did I ever cross paths with another lesbian…not once!

My mum.

Me and my mother shared a wonderful relationship (I realise I used the past tense in that sentence). Really wonderful. Home was cosy because of her. Our house was full of laughter. Dad was at work most of the time, and so me, mum and my sister would just have fun every day.

Growing up in a Mauritian household was very different to anything my friends would tell me about. We were unique. Different language, mindsets…we dipped in and out of our Muslim religion. I grew up knowing I was Muslim, and yet knowing it was ok to drink (my Dad loved his Guinness), it was ok to dance, and it was ok to have fun. BUT, some things were not ok. Like it wasn’t ok to go out clubbing, it wasn’t ok to embarrass your parents, and it definitelywas not ok to be gay.

Mum was always proud of my sister and me. On the phone she would always take pride in saying to her mates ‘Yes, well as least my girls are sensible…No, they would never embarrass us like that…’

Once my mum even asked me why I didn’t have a boyfriend. I was at uni at the time, and flippantly replied ‘because I don’t like boys’. Her face was an absolute picture of horror. She looked at me and asked ‘Oh my god, you’re not a lesbian are you???’. That was my chance. But no, her face frightened me. I couldn’t tell her, and make her face stay like that forever! So I simply replied: ‘No, I mean I don’t like the boys I have met.’

The marriage.

Fast forward a few years, and the inevitable happened…I got married. To be fair I did fall in love with a man. And did agree to marry him (for the sake of this story I will call him Nestor). By then I had accepted that this was the life I had to lead. So, I did it. I let the normal life I was conditioned to lead. I can’t complain. I was very lucky, I had a lovely life. The best thing from this life was the birth of my daughter. It was the most wonderful moment, and the best thing that had ever happened to me at that point of my life. I fell into the role of being a mother easily. Of course, the beginning was tough, but once I had settled into motherhood – it was wonderful. I returned to work part-time after a year at home. I struggled with the idea, do I become a full-time stay at home mum, or do I return to work and try the ‘working-mum’ thing? I chose the latter – and this is the decision that would change my life forever.

Work.

I worked in a courthouse, part-time to begin with. When my daughter turned 3 I started full-time. I loved my job. Loved the people, loved the work, and loved being a working mum. I would finish work at a reasonable time, collect my daughter from the grandparents and rush home to play. When her father would arrive home, it would be bedtime for her, dinner time for us, then a relaxing evening of chillaxing. I lived a fantasy in my mind though. In my mind, at night, I was gay. My life was as it was, but I was with a woman. She was a faceless woman (I am aware this sounds scary), I simply couldn’t picture what she looked like. I can’t explain why it was that I chose to live this way in my mind. I wasn’t unhappy in my real life, but there was something cosy about living a fantasy life at night. It genuinely made me contently fall asleep, just thinking of being in a woman’s arms.

This was how life went on, and while it did something strange started to happen. Me and my husband (sounds weird using that term now!) started to do our own thing. I enjoyed hobbies such as fitness and gardening, whilst he enjoyed studying and playing videogames. It didn’t bother us that we enjoyed our own company, because that was us. We enjoyed hanging out with one another, but did our own thing. It didn’t matter if he was out on a Friday night, because I LOVED my own company. BUT, this led to a new hobby…

Books.

I have always loved to read. But my Kindle offered me something new. The ability to search and buy a new book at any time of the day (or night). One evening I stumbled upon a new book of my favourite genre: murder-mystery. However, this one was different. The main character was a lesbian. I couldn’t believe it. A lesbian, an actual lesbian. Until now, these women had only existed in my mind – and maybe in the odd movie. But to read about her in a book, left nothing to the imagination (especially the naughty bits). I had unlocked a gate. I started reading one after the other. Every night, after all the chores of the evening were done, out came the books. And to be honest, I did love the murder/mystery elements, but it was the romance between the characters of every book that would capture me each time.

My fantasies started to grow. All of a sudden I wasn’t dreaming about women at night to help me sleep, but I was day-dreaming about women. Where it had previously been ok to live a life with my husband where it was cool to do our own thing in the evenings. I found myself looking forward to those moments, yet feeling sad that I was missing out on something that I wanted with someone else. No one in particular mind, just another being…a female being.

Erin.

It sounds cliché. But not once did I go searching for her, she just appeared one day – at work. For years I worked there and not once did my eyes ever stray onto anyone. Sure, you might check the crowd for a hot woman, but not oncewas there ever a hot woman where I worked. Until one morning, driving into work, I was stopped by an officer of the court directing a van into the building. She was beautiful. Literally took my breath way (again, I am aware everything I am saying is cliché – but it is all true!). just as quickly as she appeared, she quickly disappeared into the building. And I never saw her again for months. Again, I was a married woman, so I was never going to seek her out, nor was I ever going to ask around about the hot newbie woman. It just wasn’t something I would ever do to my husband. I respected him and my daughter too much.

But…my fantasy woman finally had a face! I don’t know what it was about her. But her face soon became implanted in my mind. I would think about her a lot. I’d wonder what she was like as a person, was she funny, what her voice sounded like. It was a proper crush. My first realcrush because let’s face it, my Angelina Jolie crush clearly didn’t count.

Busy months went by, birthdays, engagements, work, typical life stuffs. One day during a long court case, I was ploughing away through paperwork, when I looked up and saw her! She was there at the back of the room. Where she came from, and when she walked in I did not know, yet there she was. She was truly beautiful. We locked eyes for a split second. So quick, till this day I still don’t know whether it happened or not. All those books I had read suddenly made sense. Reading them you would think that a lot of it is made up, and so cheesy. But god, it was all true. True beauty can literally stop you in your tracks. Make your heart thump. And make you forget yourself. But of course, I was married, so in my head and heart although I had never felt this way about a woman before, I was able to draw a line and just appreciate her for who she was – but more importantly, the wonderful feeling she had given me. She truly helped me unlock a gate I never thought could be unlocked. And that’s all I needed.

By the end of the day I had learned her name. Of course, me being the friendly person I am, I had to introduce myself to her, the way I’d do to all the new people I’d meet. Her first words to me weren’t great – she thought I was another woman who worked with me! I corrected her with my name, saw she was a little embarrassed and made a little joke to let her know it was ok.

That was it. For the rest of the day I felt like I was on cloud nine. At home I was able to carry on as normal, putting my daughter to bed, cooking dinner and doing all the usual things. But in the evening, I fell asleep smiling. The stories I read were true. Beautiful women do exist, and I was clearly gay.

Coming out to myself.

I have struggled to sit and write this chapter, for many reasons. Having spent years pushing down my true feelings, it was overwhelming for them to resurface in such a powerful and real way. I experienced a mixture of emotions. Happiness. Light-bulb moment that I was gay and couldn’t hide it anymore. Guilt. Sadness. All mixed into one. It sucked. In life, I thought I was happy, my daughter made me happy, and my husband provided a life for us. Nestor was my best friend, and we made a wonderful home based on that. We had fun. But on my part, my daughter was the glue to all that. My yearning for being with a woman had somehow shot out of my mind and morphed into the real world. But I wasn’t the type of person who would ever act on that. I believed in the notion of marriage. I frowned upon people who would flirt, or took it further with others, when they were married. For me when you were committed to someone, then that was that. Plus, I wasn’t suffering in my marriage, I just felt there was no connection there anymore.

Erin…again.

All of a sudden she was everywhere. After almost a year of working together, we kept on bumping into each other. She would end up being in my courtroom just by chance. We would spend every available minute chatting away. She was funny. And had a wonderful outlook on life. She found me fascinating. She had never met a Muslim woman, so found it fascinating that I was nothing like she had read in news. I didn’t wear a hijab, yet I was fasting for Ramadan. I didn’t wear a hijab, yet I spoke and acted like a normal human being. Nothing like the media portrayed Muslim women. We would spend hours talking about her life, my life, and just life in general. She was wonderful.

My religion.

Backtracking a little I know. But religion has always been something at the forefront of my life – and yet it never felt like I was religious as my friends at school. Firstly, no one in my immediate family wore hijabs (the headscarf), or had a beard. My dad enjoyed the occasional Guinness during the weekends, and my mum loved to party and entertain guests. Behaviour that you would not expect from a Muslim family. However, during Ramadan my mum, my sister and me would always keep our fasts. We would pray, listen to holy music, not watch tv, and do all the things that a typical Muslim family would do. But then after Eid, things would go back as they were.

My family, however, were very traditional. Where they lacked in following their faith, they made up by following their culture. Mauritius is a tiny island, and with it comes my parents’ generation where the majority would have a very particular mindset.

1.    Ideally marry another Mauritian, if not then marry a Muslim, if not then they must convert to Islam.

2.    Never embarrass your parents.

3.    Don’t give ‘people’ a chance to talk about us because you went against #2.

4.    Parents are always right – obey their rules and all will be ok.

5.    Gays do not exist.

Now I can’t speak for all Mauritians out there – and there may be some who read this who get really offended. But this was the culture that I grew up in, and it was the image that was portrayed to me. I was conditioned to do all of the above. And although I was truly blessed by having wonderful parents who took care of us, paid for our education so we didn’t have to take any loans, fed us and taught us to be kind and forgiving – they cut my wings. And I guess it was inevitable that it took 30 years for them to grow…and for me to do what I eventually did.

Coming out to a friend.

I had no idea how Erin felt for me. I would see it in her eyes that she cared for me a lot – and at times I would think I saw more. But never did I ask, and never did she say. What I did know is how I felt for her. I loved her. I don’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but she was in my heart. I couldn’t do anything without thinking of her. My weekends would be spent wondering what she was doing. She was with someone else, so I wouldn’t text her in case I said something silly and got her into trouble. Not that I would have done anyways…I had my own issue to deal with – how do I tell my Nestor that I’m in love with a woman?

But tell him I did… and being the friend he was – he understood. I was honest. Told him I had feelings for Erin. In some ways I felt he already knew. We had grown so distant – but our friendship was there. He listened to me explain what I was feeling. Explain that I didn’t know what to do because I had a life with him. We had a daughter. But my head and my heart was somewhere else. I needed help. And help he did…he told me I should follow my heart. He didn’t want to live a life where he/I/we were not happy. Whatever it took , we would make this work. I was lucky. And make it work we did – but I will get into that later.

Back to Erin.

I did everything mentioned above without speaking to Erin. But I couldn’t carry on lying to myself, or my him. He deserved to be in relationship with someone that was on the same page as him. I respected him too much to carry on living such a lie. So, I told him – but didn’t tell her. I clearly enjoy making things difficult for myself right?? Erin was with someone else. They had plans for a life together, and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin that for her. So that night I planned to simply keep quiet about what I had just done. Maybe one day, there would be a chance for her and I – but for now I will just take her friendship.

The next morning, I went to work. Everything seemed surreal at home. Nestor and I still had tea, still said our goodbyes, and made plans for what we were going to have for dinner. It seemed we had just fallen into the role of friends (even it was the calm before the storm that was perfectly fine – it was how we needed to manage it). At some point during the day, I met Erin. I tried my absolute best to be normal, but she knew something was up. So I simply told her that I had ended my marriage, and left it at that. This was when she told me that she too had ended her relationship that very night. How, and why we did this at the same time without conferring with one another is one of life’s greatest unknowns. But what we did know was we are free now to declare to one another what we were too afraid to say before. We had fallen in love. At some point during our hours of conversations, and laughter, we fell in love. And it felt wonderful, and so right. Alarm bells were sounding in my head, but in my heart, I knew I had done the right thing.

Building a foundation.

Our first few months together as a couple were like no other. We didn’t do the usual things that new couples got to do…dates every night, short weekend getaways, spending the night together – no, none of those wonderful things! We had bigger fish to fry. First thing on the agenda, Erin had to meet my daughter. Second thing on the agenda, we had to phase out our family unit so that the transition to her new life would seem normal. Finally, Erin would have to meet my good friend Nestor. I wanted an unconventional family. And all three of us agreed that it was something that we would willingly do in order to build a unit for our daughter. It was not going to be easy, but we had a goal and a plan, and we stuck to it.

Honesty. This was key here. When me and Erin got together I lay all my cards on the table. If she wanted me she would have to accept my baggage. That baggage included a daughter, and for the sake of that daughter, she would have to accept her father. Those same terms were agreed by Nestor because above all he agreed that he did not want our daughter to suffer. So if that meant swallowing his pride to meet and try and get on with Erin – then so be it. Operation ‘phasing-out’ entailed him and I continuing to live together (separate bedrooms). My evening would remain the same in that I would still cook and tuck her to bed. But once she was asleep, and he got back in from work, I would spend the evening with Erin, then return home later. I would be home in case she woke up during the night, and I would to be there for her breakfast. Her life did not change, but ours did.

A few months went this way, until one day he and Erin met for the first time. Tea. Tea is one of life’s most wonderful glue. We sat, drank tea, and made small talk. Erin and Nestor got on really well. Got to talking, and before they knew it they were making little jokes here and there, and the ice was slowly starting to melt. My daughter was loving life, because all of a sudden everyone was together and it all felt cosy. She would sit and play her dolls, whilst we just learned how to be with one another.

Another week went by, and then there was dinner. The next week we went to a restaurant. And a few months, and dinners, after that – we went on holiday. We became this unit, an unconventional unit that somehow made sense.

Nestor and I lived with each this way for a year. During that year I was able to find and purchase a home exactly five minutes away from Nestor. We did this so that our daughter would be able to walk back and forth between her two homes, as if they were one. We were able to amicably finalise our divorce. But most importantly, we were able to learn how to be with one another. Accept the situation, and build a new relationship based on it. Only when we were completely comfortable with everything, did we feel ready to tell the parents. This did not go down well.

Losing my mum.

Nestor and I did this together. We asked for our parents to join us for tea. And told them. They were distraught. Completely and utterly distraught. This was probably the worst moment of this entire story. Our parents were happy, they got on with one another, they adored their granddaughter, and were just coasting through life. This brought them back down to reality, brought them back to square one. After the initial shock Nestor’s parents were the first to calm down. They asked me about my plans, asked if I needed help, and were genuinely concerned. I mean they were clearly angry, but they respected our decision and kept their reservations to themselves. Till this day we have kept in close contact with them. Nestor’s mother adores our son, and thinks Erin is wonderful. Time seemed to help them heal.

My parents on the other hand were not as helpful. They withdrew. Completely went into their own minds and hid there. Four years later they are still hiding, sadly.

There were no longer dinner parties, music, or laughter. Just sadness and loneliness. They didn’t want to face the ‘whispers’ that ‘people’ would talk. Ask them what ‘people’ and they would never give you an answer. They just had (have) it in their heads that everyone were talking about them. They were embarrassed and ashamed. I had done the one thing they had always asked me not to do.

For four years we did keep in contact – via my daughter. They would still offer to collect her from school, just so they could get a chance to see her. Which was nice because I would never deprive them of that. However, they would not talk to me. Not even when I would go and collect my daughter, my parents would not talk to me. I have since stopped trying (mostly because I no longer know what to say to them). I know they are there. They are ok, and healthy. That is all that matters to me.

Wait…what? I thought this was meant to be a happy story.

This IS a happy story.

My daughter is happy, she has two wonderful homes with parents (and guardians) who love her very much. She’s a cool kid. So proud that I am gay, and so proud that I chose Erin. They have grown a wonderful maternal bond over the years – it has been beautiful to see it grow.

My ex is happy, having travelled the world and met an amazing partner during that time…AND lost loads of weight – he is happy.

Me and Erin are happy, we have a wonderful home, a son – another story for another time! He is a beautiful little boy. Watching him explore the world is a pleasure. And knowing that he is lucky to be growing up part of a beautiful family makes our hearts smile. He is adorned by us all. Oh, and we have a cat.

For the best part of four years, every Sunday both households take it in turns to cook a family dinner. ‘Family Sunday’ has since welcomed his partner, who is French born so has a wonderful love for cheese – so we do enjoy her food! The evenings either involve playing board games, or just talking around the table. We are unconventional, but we work.

Yes, I miss my parents tremendously, but I know they are ok. They get on with life, and in a way are happy with the way things are. I am not in the family anymore, so I can’t embarrass them. They see my sister often, and she visits me often, so that just works.

I guess I wanted to write this all down to help others out there. Other people who are stuck in a life where they are not free to be themselves. Yes, I was very lucky to have people in my life to support me. But, a lot of this happened because of honesty. Be honest with yourself, and with others – and something, or someone, out there will just help make it all work. Somehow.

[joeybelle]

Oh, how the tables have turned - Part 6

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt.

Warnings: Language, first person POV, mentions of wasps and bug spray - lethal combo, IDK what I’m doing.

Word count: ~4700

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-heist

A.N: I kept delaying this part because I wanted to post it together with part 7 (since 5, 6 and 7 are meant to be one big chapter), but it isn’t finished yet and it might take a while until I finish it since Sunday is my only day off and that might be pretty busy too. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy it and sorry for the wait! Any feedback is more than welcome, and if you’re bored send me a message, I love talking to people. Just remember that I’m on European time and if I don’t reply right away I might be sleeping or at work.

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw @kyloren-supreme-ben @onmyknees4steve @elsablackswift @helloimindelaware @mwcritics @makingtimemine @littlekylo

Saturday came with an unexpected wave of heat and humidity that left me unable to move without sweating buckets. Still, I was thankful it wasn’t raining again, although by the way the air felt it would probably start raining soon. Since my house had no AC, I was a bit reluctant to have people over. Nothing I could do now, besides keeping cold drinks on hand and setting up the garden hose in case anyone needed some quick cooling down. (Me. It was definitely going to be me.)

Finding all the ingredients to make muffins from scratch had been a challenge, especially since it seemed that everyone and their mother chose to make something involving blueberries. After getting the ‘I’m sorry, we just sold the last one’ answer from all the local stores, I headed to the nearest supermarket, and then to the next one, where I had to battle a couple of old ladies to get my hands on some. I only won because I was faster, but by the look they gave me as I ran away with the blueberries, they were set on getting revenge. I would have to live in fear for the rest of my life.

Fortunately, when Jimmy’s car pulled into the driveway, I had everything ready. I was pretty sure I had enough ingredients to potentially feed a small village, but I was really excited by the prospect of baking. It had been a long time since I had a working kitchen and the time to cook (and also, someone to cook for), so I may have exaggerated a bit. I was planning to make blueberry muffins, chocolate chip, raspberry and white chocolate, and maybe banana if anyone wanted more. And sandwiches for lunch, something quick and filling that I could put together in minutes so I could help if they needed me. There was a chicken parmesan casserole already prepped in the fridge, ready to throw in the oven for a filling dinner later on. By the amount of materials piled in my garage, it wasn’t a job that would be finished in a few hours.

Sadie bolted out of the car with a huge grin on her face and attacked me right away. Jimmy looked reasonably awake, but Clyde looked like a total mess. I guessed he really wasn’t used to waking up this early, since I assumed he was pulling long hours at the bar. I felt bad for him, but not so bad that I wouldn’t smile at his sleepy face.

“I have coffee,” I said instead of good morning.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jimmy laughed, earning a sideways glance from his brother. “It just takes a while to wake the bear from hibernation.”

“Well, I’m sorry…”

“One,” Clyde interrupted me, and it took me a moment to understand what he was talking about, but the tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth clued me in.

“That’s playing dirty,” I said, crossing my arms. Technically I wasn’t apologizing to him, so it didn’t count. Did it?

“Still counts,” he mumbled as he passed me.

I shook my head and smiled. This was going to be a long day, and I would enjoy the hell out of it. “Anyone want breakfast?” I offered, but Jimmy shook his head.

“We’re good,” he said, pulling a ladder out of the back of his truck. “We better get started soon before it gets too hot.”

“Well, at least come and get some coffee. It’s cold brewed.”

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked, a confused look on his face.

“It’s a fancy type of iced coffee,” Clyde explained. “You put it in cold water and…”

“Why would you drink cold coffee,” Jimmy asked me, completely ignoring his brother who shut his mouth with a frown.

“It’s refreshing,” I said, shrugging. “It’s perfect for hot weather.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, it’s just some of that sophisticated New York shit you brought with you, isn’t it?”

“Oh come on,” I laughed. “It’s not that fancy. It’s just imported Brazilian coffee that I ground yesterday especially for you guys. Coarse ground, steeped into cold spring water for a whole day. Perfect!”

“Wow,” was all Jimmy had to say, but I could see him stifling a laughter.

“Authentic Brazilian coffee and expensive vodka? You must be really high maintenance,” Clyde said, with a serious face.

“Yeah,” I said, winking. “As high maintenance as someone without a working AC unit, a leaking roof and a mostly unfurnished house can be.”

He smiled and I let Sadie drag me for a tour of the house. It wasn’t much to see, but she was really excited to find Clyde the Bear occupying half of my bed. To my embarrassment, I had to admit that I had gotten used to sleeping with the huge toy. It was a really good cuddle buddy and I had gotten into the habit of talking to it when I was feeling like the house was too empty. Yes, I was that pathetic.

Fortunately, Sadie was the only one to see it, and I was sure none of the adults would invade my bedroom without permission, so I would be spared the embarrassment. Unfortunately, my secret had been safe exactly one minute and twenty-five seconds, exactly how long it took Sadie to find her uncle and rat me out.

“What?” I replied to Clyde’s amused smile. “I’m basically five. I have no idea who let me be an adult.” If you have no plausible excuse, just run with it. Better than trying to deny it and fuel the teasing. “You lost a muffin for spilling my secret, little lady,” I said, pointing a finger at a laughing Sadie.

Clyde’s smile grew broader seeing that I wasn’t denying it, but it wasn’t a mocking smile. He was quite cute that Saturday morning, with his sleepy face and his messy hair that looked curlier than usually. There was still a tiny bit of his usual shyness, but it wasn’t as noticeable as before.

“Anything I can help you guys with?” I asked, when Jimmy returned from my garage with some more tools.

“Umm… no, not yet,” he said, scratching his head and looking at the roof. “We’ll call you if we need help.”

“Alright,” I said, turning to Sadie. “Do you wanna help me make muffins? I’m not sure I can do everything myself.”

She excitedly followed me to the kitchen. I had made some space the day before, moved the boxes to a corner of the living room, replaced the dining table with a smaller, foldable one I found in storage. Even with an energetic kid running around, there was less of a chance of any accidents happening. Or at least, I hoped. The memory of Clyde catching me in his arms was still pretty fresh in my mind.

To my surprise Sadie was really good at following directions and actually gave her best. I would have been able to make all the muffins in maybe a third of the time if I had done them at my own pace, but the point was to entertain her while her dad fixed my roof. I didn’t get to spend much time with kids while I lived in New York, since I’d been too busy surviving, but Sadie was such a good kid that I actually enjoyed it. She was quite talkative, telling me stories about her brothers, her mom and dad, about her school and about Clyde and Mellie, so by the time the first batch of muffins were in the oven, I felt like I had been part of the Logan family for ages.

Working in the kitchen ended up being a bit distracting, I found out pretty early on. After getting out all the necessary materials, they set up the ladder and Jimmy climbed into the attic, leaving Clyde on the ground to hand him things. Right in front of my kitchen window. I fought the urge to call my parents and curse them for designing the only entrance to our otherwise unused attic right in front of my window, so I’d be forced to watch Clyde Logan stretch as he handed tools to his brother, but I remembered that the house was built by my grandparents, and I’d need an Ouija board to contact them. But as time passed and my eyes kept darting to the man outside—whose t-shirt was juuust a bit too tight and his muscles just a bit too taut—I was actually considering Ouija-ing some carefully considered well-wishes to my ancestors. I did my best, however, to focus on something else.

If I were to be completely honest, if Sadie hadn’t been there to distract me from being too distracted by Clyde, I would have probably just pulled a chair in front of the counter, poured myself a perfectly brewed cup of iced coffee and indulged into staring out the window. I mean, that’s how a considerable amount of porn movies started: a hot dude fixing something, a horny woman leering at him and the rough sex that follows, I thought, absentmindedly fanning myself with a napkin, and it wasn’t because of the constantly increasing temperature in my kitchen.

“Do you like uncle Clyde?” Sadie asked, making me snap out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, don’t you?” I tried deflecting the question, turning around and opening the fridge. The cool air coming out of it was a blessing. I really needed to get some air conditioning installed as soon as possible.

“Yeah, but that’s not what I asked,” she giggled.

Of course not. “What did you ask, then?” Play dumb until they get bored, I thought to myself, however I had forgotten just how persistent kids could be.

“If you like like him,” she said in a serious tone.

“How do you like like someone?” Keep playing dumb.

“Oh you know,” she giggled once again and hopped of the chair coming next to me and the still open fridge. “You wanna go with them on dates, and hold hands, and kiss… and make babies and then get married and live happily ever after.”

Well, that escalated quickly. “In that order?” I asked, getting two sodas from the fridge and finally closing it, just as it started hysterically beeping at me.

Sadie shrugged as she took the can I handed her. “So do you like him?” she continued, making me almost choke on my drink.

“What makes you ask that?” I tried further deflecting the question, because kids should never be trusted with sensitive information, certainly not one as talkative as Sadie.

“You keep staring at him,” she laughed and I cursed myself for being caught red-handed.

“I don’t stare at him,” I lied, but I was sure it wasn’t very convincing. “I was just looking out the window, that’s all.” Sadie kept smiling and I shook my head. In the end it’s not like it was that big of a secret that I liked him. After all, he knew and he was the only one that mattered. But I didn’t really want her blurting it out in public and making it more awkward than it already was. “Okay, maybe,” I said, giving her a serious look. “But that’s gonna be our secret. If you tell anyone I’m gonna find out where you live, hide under your bed and tickle you right as you’re falling asleep,” I threatened, approaching her while wiggling my fingers in a pretty menacing way. “Promise?”

“Promise!” she giggled, trying to hide from my tickle attack.

“Okay, great! Do you want a sandwich?” I changed the subject. I was starting to think that

The Logans would age me prematurely. Not that I needed any help in that department.

I showed Sadie how to make some icing, just to keep her busy while I put together some sandwiches. She wanted a turkey ham one, with extra mayo and crusts cut off and I made it exactly as she wanted it. Cut it into quarters to make it easier to eat, but Sadie was really taking her whisking job seriously, so I resorted to feeding the pieces to her over the bowl.

I glimpsed out the window to see an amused Clyde watching me feed his niece, a big piece of my own sandwich sticking— pretty comically I assumed— out of my mouth, his hands full with what looked like some old wood. I shoved another piece of sandwich into Sadie’s mouth, swallowed what remained of mine and went to open the window. The boys had been working for quite some time, so I assumed they’d be hungry already. I knew I was, and the only thing I had done all morning was watch a kid paint my kitchen in muffin batter.

“Would you like to take a break? Grab something quick to eat?” I asked, leaning onto the counter, and trying to get my head out the window. He didn’t seem opposed to the idea, and after throwing the old wood in a pile of garbage, he climbed up the ladder to talk to his brother.

“Jimmy said he’s not hungry yet. Maybe later.”

“Are you hungry?” I pressed, because he really looked like he had skipped breakfast. While the cup of coffee I had given him earlier seemed to have woken him up, he still looked a little sluggish.

“A bit,” he shrugged.

“Ok, I’ll make you a sandwich and you can eat it while working,” I said and he nodded. “What would you like?”

“Anything is fine.”

I quickly put some things together, making something that was definitely not instagram ready, but it was pretty filling and I knew it would taste pretty good. Placed it on a plate and pushed it towards the open window.

Clyde had come down from the ladder, a new layer of dust and debris covering him. He had specks of dust caught in his hair and a dark smudge on his nose, like he had tried scratching it with dirty hands. He had to at least take a break and wash his hands, but Jimmy called him from the attic, needing something else. It seemed he wouldn’t be having a moment to spare.

I sighed and pulled back the sandwich, cut it into small wedges like I did with Sadie’s and grabbed a piece.

“Clyde, come here,” I called, extending my arm through the open window, once he was back on the ground. He looked at the dirt covering his hands and then at the piece of sandwich in mine. “Bite,” I said motioning to the food. He looked at it a little confused, but then smiled and came closer. He bent down to my level and took a tentative bite. “Put more strength into it, Logan,” I laughed.

I didn’t even try to keep a straight face, because a grown man, built like a brick shithouse eating out of my hand was both comical and surprisingly enticing. He was also laughing and I hoped he wouldn’t choke on the food, because I was sure I wouldn't be able to pull the Heimlich maneuver on him. He took another quick bite as Jimmy called his name again and his lips briefly brushed my fingers. I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks, and I returned to the kitchen.

“Don’t laugh at us, young lady,” I said, pointing at Sadie with what was left of the sandwich, “we’re Adults.”

I had to quickly check on the muffins in the oven. They were done so I took them out, placed them on the cooling rack and shoved another batch in. By the time I was done, Clyde had returned and was hovering near the window. I hopped onto the counter to be able to reach better. I gestured for him to stick his head inside as I took another piece of sandwich and brought it to his lips. He was a little too enthusiastic taking a bite and accidentally nipped my finger.

“My fingers aren’t part of the meal, Logan,” I laughed, while Sadie climbed onto a chair next to me.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and I could see a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“One!” I grinned, because now I wasn’t at a disadvantage anymore.

I took another piece of sandwich and shoved it into Sadie’s giggling mouth. By now I was sure that both of them could feed themselves, but it was just too funny to stop and both of them seemed to enjoy it.

“I’m your bird mama now,” I proudly announced, placing the last bits of food into the open and waiting mouths of my newly adopted baby birds.

A loud shriek coming from above made me jump off the counter, knocking over a glass that shattered on the floor. Clyde scrambled to remove himself from the window without breaking anything, and hurried to climb up the ladder only to be almost knocked down by a panicked Jimmy.

“What the fuck?” I breathed, completely forgetting that there was a child with me and I should have been watching my language. I grabbed Sadie and carried her over the shattered glass, hurrying to get out the door and see what was going on.

“Do you have bees or wasps in your attic?” she asked, and seemed a lot calmer than me.

“Maybe?” It was possible, I couldn’t deny it. “Is he allergic to them?” I asked, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine.

“No,” she giggled, and somehow that didn’t do anything to calm me down. “Just scared.”

I dropped the girl down on the grass and ran towards her father. Jimmy looked a little pale and his breathing was laboured, but didn’t look injured.

“What happened?” I asked.

“He got scared of some wasps, that’s what happened,” Clyde explained with a frown on his face, but I couldn’t tell if his tone was judgemental or not.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, placing a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I had a team come over right after I moved here and they said they took care of any rodents or insects. They told me I had some wasps in the attic, but that they sprayed everywhere and removed the nests and that it shouldn't be a problem anymore. It’s my fault, I should have checked beforehand.” Now I realized just how stupid and unprepared I was. What if he was allergic and he had gotten stung. I didn’t really want to imagine what would have happened.

“No, no! It’s not your fault. I know there are wasps in attics, and I checked before starting work, but these… these just came out of nowhere and I panicked.”

“I’m so sorry, Jimmy,” I apologized again.

“He just needs a cold beer and he’ll be fine,” Sadie said, showing up out of nowhere with a beer bottle in her hand. She seemed really used to this situation, so it might have been a somewhat common occurrence.

“Thanks, Sadie-bug,” Jimmy said, taking the bottle from her hand.

“Hey, you shouldn’t go into the kitchen,” I said, frowning at her, suddenly remembering the broken glass. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“It’s okay, I jumped over it,” she smiled, incredibly proud of herself, completely ignoring the fact that she could have slipped and landed in the pile of shards. Yep, the Logans would be the death of me. I sighed.

“Well, y’all wait here while I go clean up and fetch the bug spray.”

“I’ll help,” Clyde offered, and I didn’t stop him.

As the day was getting hotter, so was my kitchen. With the oven running for so long, it was almost too much. I could feel beads of sweat starting to form on my forehead. Clyde seemed to be taking it even worse than me, but I almost expected it, with his fair skin and all. I considered opening another window, but at this point I knew it wouldn’t make any difference, since it seemed to be just as hot outside too. We’d have to suffer.

Clyde started sweeping the floor while I took the muffins out of the oven. Due to the whole commotion I had forgotten I had some in, but luckily I saw them in time, before they turned into a pile of charcoal. Sadie would have been sad. I kept glancing at Clyde as I moved around the kitchen. His t-shirt was quickly getting soaked, and I couldn’t stop looking at how it stuck to his broad back. Get a hold of yourself, you foul woman, I scolded myself and I started looking for the bug spray.

“Three,” he said as he caught me stealing another glance.

“What? No! Nope. It wasn’t said to you, it doesn’t count.”

“It does count.”

“No it doesn’t,” I said, pointing a finger at his nose. “Plus it was something I had to apologize for. Someone nearly died attacked by wasps.” I didn’t know why I was resisting, after all I just had to buy him a couple of drinks, and to be honest I wasn’t opposed to spending more time with him. I just didn’t want to lose at this stupid game we were playing.

“Well that’s why you have one apology a day,” he said in a serious manner. “Don’t waste it.”

“It wasn’t meant for you so it doesn’t count,” I insisted. “Unless you wanna follow me around to see just how many times I apologize to other people, you won’t be able to know for sure. And come on, don’t make it too easy,” I said, winking at him.

He stopped sweeping and looked at me for a few moments. “Alright,” he said, resigned, “it’s still one, then.”

I grinned and went back to looking for the can of spray. I found it by the time the floor was cleaned and both of us drenched in sweat. With the oven turned off and the window open, I was hoping it would eventually cool down, but there was no sign of that happening anytime soon.

I grabbed the can and went outside, Clyde following me closely. It was some type of industrial grade bug spray I had brought with me from New York. There’s nothing better than New York to teach you how to deal with a bug problem. I knew for a fact that it worked on wasps too, because I manually sprayed some before I called a team of professionals to deal with them.

That being said, I wasn't overly thrilled by the prospect of going into the attic to battle god knows how many angry wasps, but I had no choice.

“I can go up there,” Clyde offered, but I could see he wasn’t thrilled either.

“Nah, you’re too tall to fit in there,” I said. The attic was nothing more than a cramped space between the roof and the ceiling, it wasn’t big enough for Clyde to stand properly.

“But…” he objected.

“My house, my rules,” I cut him off and started climbing the ladder.

The only upside of this whole situation was that Clyde was getting a great view of my ass, as he held onto the ladder to stabilize it. I really hoped he was enjoying the view, because soon I’d probably come back down stung by wasps and doused in bug spray, which I suspected wasn’t such a great look on me. I climbed inside the attic and glanced down. By the light blush on his cheeks and his averted gaze I was pretty sure he’s enjoyed the view. Of course, it could have just been the heart, but it could also have been my ass.

I didn’t step inside as full of courage as I wanted, but at least there was no one up there to watch me cowardly look around for the stingers. The space was incredibly hot and full of dust and my throat and lungs didn’t like it one bit, but I kept as silent as I could so I would hear the wasps. Luckily, there was a big hole in the roof where Jimmy had started taking off the tiles, so there was more than enough light.

I found the culprits after a few minutes of searching. They were trying to build a new nest next to a beam, and I ruthlessly sprayed them before they could attack me. I felt sorry for them, but this was my house and they should have found a better place to invade. I took down the half built nest, as the exterminator had told me to do, and sprayed the spot where it had been attached.

I left the can next to Jimmy’s tools before climbing down. In case anything like this happened again, at least he had a weapon.

“All done,” I said, hopping down the ladder. I was greeted with some enthusiastic cheers. “How about we take that break now? I think the muffins have cooled down by now and they’re awaiting to be tasted.” More enthusiastic cheers. “I think I’ll bring the food outside, it’s a bit too hot and stuffy in the house. Sadie, wanna help me? There’s the hose, you can wash up if you want, or you can use the bathroom inside.”

I placed the food on paper plates and Sadie carried them outside one by one, hopefully without dropping anything on the ground. We placed a big blanket on the grass, because bringing out the table and chairs would be too much work and everyone decided it just wasn’t worth it. Sadie said it felt like a picnic and we just went along with that.  

I came out with cold drinks and nearly dropped the bottles when I rounded the corner, because a shirtless Clyde dousing himself with the garden hose was really something I wasn’t expecting to see. The whole porn idea flashed through my brain again and I almost turned around and went back to the house but that would have been a bit too obvious, especially since Clyde turned his head and looked at me. I averted my gaze and hurried to the blanket.

Jimmy was grinning and I wanted to strangle him.

“Whatever’s behind that grin, I don’t wanna hear it,” I warned him and placed the bottles on the blanket, plopping next to him.

“I ain’t saying nothing!” He lifted his arms in a defensive gesture and opened a beer bottle, but the grin still plastered on his face scared me. So that wasn’t very reassuring.

“Well I can almost hear you thinking it.” I didn’t know what ‘It’ was, but I was scared.

“I don’t have to say anything, your blush speaks for itself,” he said, grabbing a sandwich, and I wanted to shove it down his throat whole so I’d be sure he’d keep his mouth shut, but Sadie reappeared from somewhere around the bushes and I knew better than to allow myself to be violent in front of a kid. For now at least.

However, he kept his word and didn’t say a thing while we ate, but he did snicker when Clyde joined us. He wasn’t shirtless anymore, thank heavens, because if he were I’d probably spontaneously combust, but his t-shirt was wet and stuck to his chest in all the right places and... okay, this wasn’t that much better. I did my best to focus on anything else for the remainder of the meal.

The food— and especially the muffins— had been very well received by the Logans and it made me really happy. It felt nice being appreciated and also it felt nice to be able to do something for the people who were giving up their free time to help me out. I was really lucky that someone cared enough for me to do that.

But I think what made me the happiest was Clyde’s confession that he hadn’t eaten muffins so tasty since the ones his mother used to make. It was sad that since she passed no one made them muffins anymore, so I promised I’d bake more for them if they agreed to build me another mailbox. With hand painted butterflies and all. Jimmy almost choked laughing and recounted the story in more (embarrassing) detail than Clyde had and by the time we finished eating, my jaws were hurting from laughing so hard.

Masterlist

Previous part

Next part

[shmisolo]

@forcegreyreylo replied to your post “Oooh 5 please! Reylo, obvi.”

This was really good and I’d love to see this turned into a fic where they have to learn to adjust to each other and she meets his parents even if they’re estranged

“what do your parents think?” she asks him the following weekend and he stiffens.  she’s sitting at her kitchen table, and he’s cooking for her.  she’d expected them to order food of some sort, but he’d said cooking calms him down and who is she to refuse someone making her food in her own kitchen.  

“i haven’t told them,” he says quietly and he flips the chicken breast he’s frying and she hears fresh sizzle as the uncooked meat meets the bottom of the pan.  “we’re not close.”

“are they the kind of people you’d want to keep away from her?”

she watches as ben pokes the chicken for a moment before he glances over his shoulder at her.  “no,” he says at last.  “no, they’ll be thrilled about having a grandkid i imagine.”  his voice is bitter.

“they’ll hold it against you?”

“look, i’m the family fuck up, ok?  it’s why we’re not close.  i’ve managed to not just not meet every expectation they’ve ever had of me, but i’ve failed catestrophically at being what they want me to be.  what they want is for me to find a girl, fall in love, get married, plan a kid, have a kid.  not stumble into a pregnant by-blow at the grocery store six months later, ok?  they’ll be understanding, they’ll be so supportive, but they’ll be unbearably disappointed.  again.”

rey watches as he continues to check on the chicken.  “ordinarily, i’d say we’d give it time.  but time is not exactly something i have right now.”

“yeah,” he agrees.  “i’ll give them a call and see if we can...i don’t know.  get dinner or something.”

this is how rey ends up at a restaurant she’d never be able to afford the following saturday night, so anxious that she’s fifteen minutes early to the reservation.  she sits alone at her table, looking around at the nice art on the wall, listening to the quiet hum of conversations from the booth she’s been seated in.  

everything feels too fancy for her.  it helps nothing that she’s also dressed in frumpy pregnancy clothes she’d found at thrift.  you’d better be worth it, she had thought as she’d used what little extra money in her budget she had for the clothes she’d only wear for a few months.  then she’d stopped.  no.  you are.  even if you’re an accident, you’re worth it.  her eyes had filled with tears.  suddenly, rey feels less self-conscious about her frumpy clothes.  she runs her hand over her stomach.  it’ll be hard but you’ll be worth it i know it.

and she’s not alone.  kylo seems determined about that. 

she tries to put away finn’s warnings--that he could be a crazy person, that he seemed to have enough money and education to get a lawyer that would fuck shit up if she tried to keep him away from his kid and that that was dangerous.  i can take care of myself.  and there’s something about kylo that feels raw.  like he’s being nothing but honest with her.  rey can work with that.

“rey?” she looks up and sees to people easing into their old age approaching.  both are significantly shorter than kylo, but she recognizes instantly where the length of his face and his deep brown eyes come from.  “don’t get up,” the woman says hastily as rey makes to rise.  “leia organa,” she says and she takes rey’s extended hand and gives it a firm handshake.

“han solo,” the man at her side adds, similarly shaking rey’s hand.  solo... that isn’t the same name as ren.  had he changed it?  

“i’m not sure where kylo is,” she says a little sheepishly and she watches as both leia and han glance at one another.

“he can run late sometimes,” han says with a forced airiness.  “something he gets from his old man.  don’t know when i’d ever get anywhere if this one didn’t have the internal clock more precise than a swiss watch.”

leia leans forward, her eyes intent, her face warm, “so--tell us how did you and--and kylo meet?”

“at a bar,” comes kylo’s voice and he’s there, shrugging out of his jacket as he slides into the booth next to her.  

“i gathered as much from our phone call,” leia says.  “i was referring to how you met more recently.”

“at the grocery store,” rey cuts in.  “completely by accident.”  she turns to look at kylo to give him a smile and catches a whiff of alcohol.  “and we went from there.  he was very insistent about not wanting to be a deadbeat.”

his eyes shoot to hers and they’re a little glazed--he’s definitely gotten himself drunk in preparation for this, something which she is going to try very hard not to be annoyed at--and under the table she feels his fingers tentatively brush against hers.

“we’re not sure what it’s going to be,” rey says at last turning away from kylo and looking at his parents, both of whose eyes are flicking between rey and their son, “but i think it’s a good starting point--to know that we both care a lot about her.”

“she’s a girl?” leia asks and her voice is a little thick.  rey nods, and gives her a half-smile.  there’s something about her expression that rey doesn’t quite understand as she looks between rey and ben.  han’s face is even more unfathomable as he watches his son.  and ben--ben’s staring silently at his parents, not angry, not defensive.  he takes a sip of water and looks away and under the table, rey takes his hand, not sure what is going on at all because she doesn’t understand the secret silent conversations of parents and their children.

the dinner is not a relaxed one, but it is less tense than kylo had led rey to believe.  his parents seem perfectly nice--as nice as rey supposes she’d want for grandparents of her child.  han works in shipping, leia is a political consultant, and both live in the city.  (“close enough to babysit when you need it,” han had winked at her.)  the tensest moment is when his mom accidentally calls him ben and, blushing, he tells her he’d legally changed his name a few years back.  

as dinner ends, leia and rey go to the restroom together and it’s there, as they are washing their hands, that kylo’s mother says, “ben--kylo--mentioned that you don’t have parents.  is that true?”

rey nods, and leia tentatively reaches a hand out to rey.  “well, i know i can’t be your mother, and i don’t know what you’d need from a mother, but i’m here to help in anything i can help in.  i promise.”  and there it is--that shining honesty that she’s seen in kylo’s eyes too.  rey swallows and nods, and leia extends her arms and a moment later she’s hugging rey and rey takes a few shaky breaths.  i know i can’t be your mother, and i don’t know what you’d need from a mother, but...but it feels nice all the same.

they find kylo and han at the front of the restaurant.  they aren’t speaking and rey notices that kylo doesn’t hug his parents goodbye as they go off in their separate directions.  

“how was it?” she asks him when they’re walking down the stairs to the subway station.

he looks at her and shakes his head slightly, though less as a negation and more like a dog trying to get the wet out of his hair.  “i--they--they weren’t disappointed.”  he sounds like he can’t believe it.  “my dad told me i was doing the right thing.  i--he--that’s never happened.  not in years.”

“you are doing the right thing,” rey tells him, taking his hand.  “i...i am glad you’re here.  you’ve made it easier in the past few weeks.”  suddenly her eyes are stinging and her throat is even tighter than when leia had hugged her in the bathroom.

“yeah.  me too.  i’m glad too.”

[badassbride]

Brittany and Dustin’s

Dreamy Outdoor Wedding

WEDDING DATE: October 14, 2017

WEDDING LOCATION: Huntersville, NC (on my grandparents property)

WEDDING THEME: Laid back outdoor wedding

HOW AND WHERE DID YOU MEET:

I was actually serving at a bar he used to frequent, we also had loads of mutual friends, I had always been interested in him but for a few years we just weren’t single at the same time. We were finally both single and he and our friends basically forced me into dating him, the rest is history I guess!

THE WEDDING DAY:

Unlike more traditional brides and grooms, we woke up early on the morning of the wedding, picked up a few members of the wedding party, drove to the venue, and started decorating and putting things together ourselves! Soon afterward we split up and went to start getting ready, at the time it felt like we had plenty of time before the wedding (one wedding tip, you never have plenty of time even when you think you do). Getting ready was fun, filled with an abundance of mimosas and bad 90’s music. Soon enough though it was time to get into the dress, my mom popped in for literally 10 minutes and then rushed back to the venue to finish putting things together.

We arrived at the venue, the bridesmaids, groomsmen and Dustin waited outside for our first look moment. I was a NERVOUS WRECK, but as soon as I walked out that door and kissed my soon to be husband I felt completely at ease.

We then joined hands and walked directly to the alter hand in hand, no aisle needed, and waited on our guests to surround us. We did this to keep the feel of our wedding intimate and party driven. A quick 5 minute vow exchange and it was over! Our vows were riddled with Harry Potter and Star Wars references, I wouldn’t change it for anything!

This was followed up by a first dance to Africa by Toto, a mother son dance, and a father daughter dance that we quickly turned into a father daughter shot instead! After that we dance the night away and tent camped with our closest friends.

Love Brittany xxx

DRESS DESIGNER:

The dress is from ModCloth, I’m not sure of the designer but it was called the bride and joy dress! The shoes were the Hillary from @katyperrycollections

WEDDING BUDGET: $3,000

HOW MANY PEOPLE ATTENDED: 100

PHOTOGRAPHER:  Caitlin Malson caitlin._/

HAIR / MAKE UP:

Lauren Brooks- makeup @laurenab_  Ali Boone- hair @smokedlacehair

CAKE: @gateaubakingco

TIPS FOR FUTURE BADASS BRIDES:

Remember that it is YOUR DAY, not anyone else’s, it’s so easy to fall into the trap of trying to please everyone but people who genuinely care about you will make sure the wedding turns out how you want it. The only other person whose opinion matters is your partners!

EXTRA INFO: My brother cooked all of the food for our event, while my parents set up everything for the venue!

https://www.badassbride.com/brittany-dustin/

[beautifulweird0]

Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you. My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.     Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created… Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me.      I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” . Think about it... Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

    So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms.  I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

   This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period.    I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!). Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.     It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).      So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right? Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?       Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚). But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.Don’t get it confused,  my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess.    The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them. My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything. However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess. My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart. Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand. He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness. I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love? I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

       ~Monet’

[one-that-had-to]

On Musilová

As requested by @orcinus-wanderer, on the development of Tatiana’s similarity to her mother. I’m still not entirely sure this answers the question, but hopefully it will still give you all some insight on how Tatiana came to be.

Also, putting this at the top since this gets long: My inbox is always open, not just for prompts. If you ever want to hear more about how I developed  a character or if you have any questions about the actions or motivations or anything, feel free to ask!

I developed my Commander with two major themes in mind. One, I wanted to explore the relationship between the Council and a Commander who didn’t come from one of the member nations, someone who maybe wasn’t as under their thumb as they would have liked. Two, I felt like no other Commander went far enough on the sort of trauma they should have post-tank.

So, I started creating my Commander with a few basic facts. First, she was going to be horrifically traumatized post-tank. Obviously. Second, she was going to be dual-national. She was going to be something-American, because I am American and I know I can write Americans without much extra research.1 Third, she was going to be a she.

My Commander was going to be a woman for entirely obvious reasons. I’m a woman, technically, and I like to see myself represented in media that I like. I’m also bisexual and so a woman in power? Wielding authority with ease? In uniform? With muscles? There’s a reason I sometimes refer to her as my wife.

Early on there was a time when I really doubted that decision, though. The internet People aren’t generally kind to female characters and I’ve experienced that myself firsthand plenty already. So, for a while, I considered having a “backup” male commander who would essentially be identical to Tatiana in all respects. Except he’d also be a total asshole, because if I had to use him then it was because other people were being assholes, and I guess I figured it would be a good way to take revenge, or something. That eventually got folded in with how I write Van Doorn sometimes.2

I eventually settled on my Commander being Czech-American for honestly rather meaningless reasons.3 I then settled on her first name, Tatiana, because it was relatively popular in Czechoslovakia at the time, it had different pronunciations in Czech and English, and I just liked the sound of it. It also didn’t start with an L, which is something a lot of my characters have.4 Then, to find her last name, I just googled for a list of most common surnames in the U.S. and scrolled down until I found a French name I liked. I specifically looked for French names because I could have some pronunciation goofs and I just like to bag on the French language. Thank you, William the Conqueror.

To make the dual-national part of her story work, I knew Tatiana had to spend a significant amount of time in her non-council member country and have significant ties to it. So, obviously, she had to have been born there and raised by her mother and maternal grandparents. 

Despite knowing this, I never intended to give Tatiana a Czech last name.

On a whim one night, I decided to look up common Czech surnames regardless. I ended up finding the name Musil, derived from the past tense of the word “must” and roughly meaning “he had to.” I saw that, went “what kind of chosen one name bullshit is that,” and made it Tatiana’s birth name.

It was only after finding the Musilová name that I realized that Tatiana is a woman whose entire life is influenced by the other women in it. Most of her teachers in the U.S. would be women, including some of the ones that she likes and some of the ones that turn her off of education for good.5 She joins the army in part because there is an attractive woman who comes to her school for the pull up challenge. Once she’s in the army, she finds an older woman mentor who teaches her how to toe the line to keep herself safe without crossing the line. She’s almost outed by a woman to the army.6 To ensure her bisexuality7 was never erased, I made her most significant prior romantic relationship (which eventually became her only other significant romantic relationship) with a woman. Her grandmother is the reason she can live on her own with ease, unlike some certain other commanders.8 And of course, Tatiana’s mother is the single most important person in her life.9

On this I realized that if I were to make a second male commander, he absolutely could not just be Tatiana, but a man. So I dropped that thought and dedicated myself entirely to building Tatiana as a human and as a character. At this point, I don’t think I could make a second commander even if I wanted to.

So, realizing that Tatiana is a woman almost entirely influenced by the other women in her life, I realized that Tatiana absolutely had to take after her mother. Most importantly, she also had to get her stupid high will from her mother, and her mother would get it from her parents, Tatiana’s grandparents. Stupidly high will became a Musil family trait -- one that brought Grandpa Musil and Grandma Musilová together fighting in the Czech resistance, one that brought Libuše to the United States after fleeing from her home for her children, one that brought Tatiana to XCOM to save the world.

Thus, my favorite line from Tatiana’s flower character study: (And she must, because it is her name. Not the one shortened and butchered by foreign tongues, and not the one forced upon her by the stranger that is her father, but the name passed from father to son to her mother to her.)

That being said, it’s not as though Tatiana doesn’t take after her father at all. He’s an American man who somehow manages to visit communist Czechoslovakia multiple times, falls in love with a Czech woman, and spends ten years trying to figure out how to bring her and their kids to the U.S. to have a better life. Or, at least supposedly better. That takes tenacity and a strong will of his own. His side just doesn’t have anywhere near the influence on Tatiana as her mother’s.

Ultimately, it made sense for her to have a Czech name. She’d identify much more strongly with Musilová than with Mercier, that she’d identify with her mother’s side much more so than her father’s. That was going to be how I highlighted the tension between her and the Council.

Everything that one needs to know about Tatiana, everything that informs her character comes from the other women in her life. The Musilová name ties everything together neatly, the influence of women in her life, her struggle with her dual-nationality, and her very reason for doing everything she does. Even though Tatiana’s gender does not matter to her story,10 being a woman is important to who she is as a person. This is why I usually write her full name as Tatiana Musilová Mercier even though she technically doesn’t have a middle name.

Everything tied together perfectly, all on accident. I had this whole realization in bed at 3 A.M. while trying to fall asleep.

In short: Why does Tatiana take after her mother so much? Because she had to.

1. Oh, how wrong I was. She ended up being an east coaster, and to me as someone who has only ever existed on the best west coast, the east coast just like. doesn’t exist to me? Not to mention all the army stuff.

2. He’s really only a huge asshole in Amelia AU, where he is for sure the one who outs Tatiana to the army.

3. Honestly, I didn’t want Tatiana to be Czech, but we don’t always get what we want.

4. Tatiana was very almost nearly named Lýdie, but  Lýdie didn’t sound the name of a military commander.

5. The teachers that turn her off of education are almost certainly all women. Two of her good teachers in high school are her world history teach and her physics teacher, who when I imagine them are my US history and physics teachers, respectively, who are both men. I go back and forth on this.

6. Similarly, I go back and forth on this, too. Thematically it makes sense for it to be a woman who nearly gets her discharged, but I usually imagine that it’s a man that does it.

7. Attraction to one gender? In this economy? Absolutely not.

8. Please learn to cook, Lizzie and Weir. 

9. To break Tatiana’s will enough in both canon and in Hunter AU, the Elders use her mother against her. I have some cut content from Hunter AU, if anyone would like to see that.

10. Since Tatiana is very much “me, but a better me,” it’s debatable whether she fully identifies as a woman since I sort of question my gender myself.

[askmicrowaveayem]

MAYEM: A Different Way Pt. 5

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

Gaster stayed in his bed, and his parents were content to let him stay there as long as he wanted to. They usually tried to not impose on the… ‘territory’ was a pretty apt description for the spaces he carved out for himself.

Semi finished up cooking and moving everything back to the table before looking to see if the elder Gaster were still in the house.

When he could not be found anywhere, he was forced to assume he’d gone to see the grandkids, and went to talk with Chxlxthx instead.

--

After giving himself some time alone to think Gaster got up and went to teleport Sans and Papyrus just outside their home. He instructed them on what the two looked like and how to approach Gaster, as well as what they should and shouldn’t say.

Once that was done with he knocked on the door.

--

He told Chxlxthx who was coming and--while he didn’t tell her what was apparently coming in their future--he did say a little about what he’d been told. About what he’d guessed of how much this Gaster cared for their own. A little about the grandkids.

Hopefully, Gaster would do fine with a house full of people today. While Chxlxthx went to go help him prepare, Semi was left to answer the door when it finally was knocked on.

So he did. And saw his grandchildren for the first--and only--time.

--

One was tall, perhaps even a little taller than Gaster, while the other was short and squat.

“HELLO!” The tall one said with a smile and waved.

“hey.”

Both of them wore rather normal-looking clothes, although each wore a lab coat with an emblem on the sleeve that looked surprisingly similar to Semi’s own skull structure.

“Papyrus.” Gaster said, gesturing to the tall one. “Sans.” He gestured to the short one. “Meet… grandpa.”

--

Oh, wow, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this was so much more.

“Hi,” he said, barely able to restrain his smile enough to stop it paining him. “I’m Semi, it’s--geez, it’s great to meet you! Come on in, please, make yourselves at home!”

--

“THANK YOU.” Papyrus said, stepping inside with his family. He seemed the most excited out of all of them. “I NEVER GOT TO KNOW MY GRANDPARENTS. THIS IS SO FUN!”

Sans and Gaster just sort of settled into a position of letting Papyrus do all the talking. It was what they usually did. “CAN I HUG YOU?”

--

“Yes, definitely!” Semi really liked this kid already. He’d been worried when the older Gaster said ‘no hugs,’ and thought that might apply to him, too!

--

Papyrus wasted no time in holding out his arms and wrapping them around the big dragon, squeezing him with more strength than one would think a bony skeleton could have.

After a moment he paused and looked down at Sans. “SANS. COME HUG OUR GRANDPA.” He reached out, dragging his brother over by his hood and lifting him up to join in the hug.

“okay. hug time i guess.” He smiled and shrugged, going along with the whole thing.

--

Semi laughed at the antics.

He’d forgotten what it was like to watch siblings go at it. Still, he hugged the bigger skeleton back with just as much excitement, even if it didn’t quite match in strength, and gave the smaller skeleton a much more gentle (but no less sincere) hug.

“I really can’t tell you how much it means for you to come by!”

--

“I’M GLAD WE COULD! THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WE’VE EVER MET OUR GRANDPARENTS.” Papyrus smiled, breaking the hug eventually and letting Sans go.

--

“We’re not that exciting, but I hope we don’t disappoint,” Semi said, still smiling. “The food’s all ready, so I’ll go get Chxlxthx and see if Gaster’s feeling up to sitting with everyone. Again, please, make yourselves at home.”

He waited and moved slowly as he started to exit the room, just in case anyone had more they wanted to ask for or mention before he left.

--

Papyrus nodded and the three settled to patiently wait. The tallest of them had the biggest, happiest grin on his face. Sans was grinning too, but it was hard to tell if that was just what his face did.

Gaster looked… tired. But a little happy too. He was glad his kids got to meet at least one version of their grandparents.

--

They didn’t have to wait long at all. A few minutes later, Semi returned, apologizing for the delay and quickly beginning to dish out the pasta and vegetables and other pieces of the meal. It was a hot, hearty meal, and definitely cooked by someone who had a lot of experience cooking with fire magic, and cooking well.

Not a moment after Semi returned, Chxlxthx arrived, a small, striped-shirted Gaster clinging to a vine behind her.

--

Quite different to the boisterous greeting Semi had gotten, this one was much more subdued. Sans flashed them both a little broader smile while Papyrus waved at them both. He tried to talk a little quieter, but it was still pretty loud.

“HELLO. IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU.”

--

Semi thought for a moment that it was Chxlxthx’s intimidating appearance that made them less excitable--but at the memory of the conversation in the kitchen, wondered if it were his son’s presence, instead.

Chxlxthx got them to the table and settled in easily, giving the little Gaster the option to sit between her and his elder counterpart or in between her and Semi. He gave a quick glance towards his father before moving towards the seat between his mother and counterpart as she spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you too! What’s your names, dear? This is wonderful.”

--

Gaster offered the kid a smile and signed, ‘Feeling okay?’

“I’M PAPYRUS AND THIS IS MY OLDER BROTHER SANS.” He said, gesturing down to the short skeleton beside him. “THANK YOU FOR INVITING US OVER.”

--

Gaster nodded faintly out of habit before answering with his hands. Tired. Lots of people is all.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m Chxlxthx, this is my Semi. It’s wonderful to meet you!”

She was definitely thrilled.

--

‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’ Gaster signed back, sort of giving the kid a little one-on-one while ignoring the rest of the conversation for the most part. His kids seemed to be… not really ignoring kid Gaster, but rather not pressing him or overwhelming him with attention despite him being a tiny version of their dad.

“YOU HAVE A VERY NICE HOME. VERY COZY. IF ONLY I COULD KEEP OURS SO CLEAN.” Papyrus said, happy to have someone to back and forth with that wasn’t his father or brother, who both seemed to be of few words.

--

...do they like me? He asked, a little hesitantly, and forgetting if his elder had said anything about them understanding Wingdings. He stayed a little hunched over in his seat, glancing around occasionally, and nervous even though he knew no one at the table was actually going to be terrible. His mother offered him a vine under the table, and he clung to it the same way any other monster might hold their mother’s hand for reassurance.

“Thank you! I’m sure your place is wonderful. It sounds like you move around a lot, so it’s understandable things are hard to keep clean.”

Semi had long finished serving food and now was just letting people do as they pleased.

--

‘Yes.’ Gaster signed, ‘I just told them you might need a little space. But you can sign to them if you want.’

“IT WOULD BE WONDERFUL IF IT WASN’T SUCH A MESS!” Papyrus said, looking annoyed even though his tone was anything but. “THESE TWO ARE AWFUL. PAPERS AND BOOKS AND SOCKS EVERYWHERE.”

“Chaotic organization.” Gaster added.

Papyrus scoffed.

--

“Oh really now,” Chxlxthx said. “It sounds like they’re a handful to look over.”

It was the chiding tone of someone who also had a pair of troublemakers on hand, but loved them anyway.

She was just glad they didn’t really have a sock issue, what with only having one pair of feet to wear them in the whole house.

Gaster nodded and ducked his head, beginning to pick at the meal in front of him and watching the people at the table.

Papyrus was loud and hard to ignore, but he seemed nice enough, and anyone who got along with his mother so quickly was probably a good person. But he was also curious of the quiet, small skeleton.

...it was strange to even think of them as skeletons.

Maybe that’s why he was on edge.

He watched the shorter skeleton, trying to not look like he was nervous or staring, and hoping he succeeded.

--

“THEY ARE. ONE IS SELF-DESTRUCTIVE AND THE OTHER IS LAZY.” Papyrus said as he began to dig into his meal.

Sans caught the kid’s glance but ignored it. He had already started to eat. “this is really good.” He said through a mouthful.

Gaster’s, if he had been given any, would remain untouched.

--

Chxlxthx shook her head and began eating as well. “How would they survive without someone to look after them.”

Semi smiled. “I’m glad you like it. If you like, any leftovers we can send off with you.”

--

“IT’S HARD BEING THE GLUE HOLDING THE FAMILY TOGETHER.” Papyrus said with a proud grin and finally started to eat. He waited until he had swallowed to speak again. “WOWIE, THIS IS VERY GOOD!”

--

Chxlxthx was pleased with the boy’s excellent manners and Semi had definitely started to tinge redder than before, saying another thanks for the compliment.

The smallest Gaster, despite himself, puffed up a little in pride at his father being praised.

--

There was a lull in the conversation for all but a moment, Papyrus glancing over at his father. Gaster looked exhausted even though he wasn’t really. He was just emotionally drained. It was clear for him to see. His dad had plenty of bad days.

“YOU SHOULD TRY IT.” He smiled, “IT’S NICE TO EAT.”

The doctor looked at him, then down at the food. This seemed to be something that happened often. Eating was a normal task that normal people did. It was something to sort of keep him grounded in a way. Even if he didn’t need it or taste it, it was the action that meant something.

With no resistance, Gaster picked up his fork to begin eating.

--

The three at home in this universe watched without comment, focusing a few moments on their own meals while conversation paused.

“So,” Semi said finally. “Grandkids. Wow??”

--

Both Papyrus and Sans looked at him and smiled, Gaster taking a moment to snort as much as he could without a nose.

“weird isn’t it?” Sans said with a smirk.

--

“It is!” Semi said, still a little red. “It’s amazing, but it is… pretty weird. Does this sort of thing happen often to you??”

--

“oh yeah. this is our job. being weird to alternate versions of ourselves.” Sans said before eating more of his meal. It was good. It reminded him of Toriel’s cooking a little.

--

You’re good at it, Gaster mumbled.

“That’s pretty incredible.”

--

Sans grinned at the kid and winked, “thanks.” His attention then turned back to Semi. “it’s actually a lot more boring than it sounds. a lot of sitting and waiting. that’s good for me. i like to do nothing.”

--

Semi looked over at his partner. “See? He gets it.”

Chxlxthx shook her head and returned to the meal while Semi looked back towards Sans. “So traveling through spacetime is pretty boring? Or just boring most of the time?”

(Gaster had hidden his face after the wink and wasn’t sure if he wanted to resurface.)

--

“just boring most of the time.” Sans grinned, “then we get times like this where we get free food.”

--

“Very important perks,” Semi said, offering Sans more food.

--

“thanks.” Sans grinned, eagerly getting right back to eating.

--

Semi was enjoying the meal; it was nice to have a lot of people in the house again, and Gaster seemed to be handling everything pretty well, to boot. He was still eating and, even though he was keeping quiet and had his hands mostly to himself, he didn’t appear overly distressed or try to leave or hide behind Chxlxthx aside from still holding onto one of her many vines.

...he wondered if they might be able to help Gaster get used to more people being around without overwhelming him. Or maybe at least giving him more people to talk to.

“How long will you be around?”

--

“Until the machine is fixed.” Gaster said, then added, “Or until everything here seems okay. Whichever comes last.”

--

Chxlxthx hesitated a moment, but then resumed eating and nodded, planning to ask later.

Gaster, however, had no such compunction. He reached out and tugged his elder double’s ‘sleeve,’ narrowing his eyes up at him and asking, what’s that mean?

--

He looked down at him and signed back, ‘It means that I’m going to stick around until you seem to be doing better. Or until I can maybe alter your timeline a little somehow.’

--

Gaster didn’t look any less suspicious. But what does that mean? When I’m doing better??

Was… was his older self thinking he could decide how well Gaster was doing???

--

Gaster thought about that a bit more before offering a shrug. ‘I dunno. I just wanna leave when you’re a little happier is all. I at least want to make sure you can talk to your parents.’

--

Finally, he relaxed a little, nodding a bit and pulling his hands away from his elder.

His parents had watched quietly, a little startled and definitely worried at the sudden change in Gaster’s activeness. They were still the only people at the table who couldn’t understand even a little of what was being said, and--they were used to not understanding him. But now, more than ever, they felt closed off.

--

Hopefully that would change soon.

“I’ve finished writing everything down, by the way.” Gaster said, turning to the other adults at the table. Technically Sans and Papyrus were adults too, but… nah. They were his kids. “I’ll stick around until you’ve got at least the basics down.”

--

“Thanks,” Semi said, managing a smile again. “I know I’ve said this a lot lately, but… it really does mean a lot.”

He didn’t want to think of how long Gaster would’ve had to struggle with communication if some transdimensional travelers hadn’t come crashing in.

--

“It’s fine.” Gaster smiled a little, having finished his meal. He hadn’t really paid any mind to actually eating it. It was just an empty gesture that Papyrus sometimes had him do. He thought maybe it helped in some way.

--

Chxlxthx cast around and realized most of the table had finished. She looked down to Gaster to make sure he would be alright if she got up, first, before slipping away from the table and starting to carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen.

“....I know your Gaster’s said there’s a place you can stay, but if you want to stay with us, you’re welcome to,” Semi said, looking at the two skeletons.

--

Both Sans and Papyrus looked at their father, who returned their gaze. “... You can if you want.” He shrugged, and both grinned.

“FINALLY A REAL BED!”

--

Semi laughed a bit. “If you’re both done with dinner, I can help you get set up.”

--

“OH, LET ME HELP.” Papyrus said, standing up and gathering the plates from his family.

--

“It’s not necessary, but thank you,” Chxlxthx said, arriving again and offering to take the plates from Papyrus. However, if he wanted to follow her into the kitchen and talk some while she cleaned up, she’d have no objections.

--

Talking with grandma was right up his alley. He helped her clear the rest of the table before following her into the kitchen. Meanwhile Sans stood and looked at Semi. “we don’t have much to ‘set up’, but sure.”

--

In the kitchen, Chxlxthx began putting away leftovers and washing dishes. It was very easy to multitask when you had a minimum of 80 arms. “Papyrus, isn’t it?”

Semi stood as well, saying, “That’s fine! I can at least show you the room,” and ushering Sans away to a small backroom with sheetless twin beds. He opened the closet and began pulling bedding materials out. “Is there anything you’ll need?”

Finally, only the two doubles were left at the table.

Gaster curled in on himself again, less out of anxiety this time and more because it was just a safe position to be in. He pulled his feet up onto the chair and rested his chin on his knees, looking up at the other Gaster, and… tried to figure out exactly how he was feeling about all this.

--

“YES. SHOULD I CALL YOU GRANDMA?” He asked, helping where he could despite the fact she was capable of doing everything herself.

“nah. maybe a blanket for papyrus, but that’s it.” Sans said as he looked at the beds. He didn’t even need to be laying down to sleep and his dad didn’t sleep much at all these days until crashing and burning.

Gaster looked down at his double, ‘Feeling okay?’

--

Chxlxthx was living the dream.

“Yes! That would be wonderful. Grandson.”

She was grinning wider than even normal, if it were possible. A grandson! A--

Yes. She could feel a sad thought creeping up on her and she stomped it out hard with the thought fuck yes, official grandbabies.

“Are you sure?” Semi said, making the beds fully regardless, complete with a quilt to act as a comforter.

Gaster shrugged. Not sure how to feel.

--

“SO WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO?” Papyrus asked.

“yeah i’m sure. we’re used to sleeping with very little.” These days not even Papyrus needed tucked in with a bedtime story.

‘That’s understandable.’ Gaster signed.

--

“Just about everything. When I’m not working or taking care of Gaster, I read and knit. There’s not a lot of spare time, though. What about you, dear?”

Semi nodded understandingly. “All right. Well, just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, so don’t hesitate if you want anything.”

He finished both beds.

Which part’s understandable? Gaster asked, still remembering his suspicions even though he’d been reassured for the most part.

--

“I QUITE LIKE PUZZLES. I BRING A FEW PUZZLE BOOKS WITH ME WHEN WE TRAVEL. COOKING IS FUN TOO.”

“yep. no problem.” Sans nodded.

‘Not knowing how to feel. This isn’t exactly a normal situation to be put through.’ Gaster signed.

--

“Oh, you cook?” Chxlxthx said. “That’s wonderful. I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’m really not any good with fire. I burn everything or only seem to undercook it.”

Semi nodded and glanced back at the door. “...and… I’m sorry to bring this up, especially when we’ve only just met, but… your father mentioned quite a lot of things to me while we were on our own. About my son’s future. And some about his own past and what’s brought you all here. I… it’s hard to know where to start or where I was going with this, sorry.”

What are you going to try to do to my life? Gaster asked. He glanced away from his double. You were talking about changing my timeline.

--

“I’M THE ONLY ONE IN THE FAMILY WHO EVER MADE ANY REASONABLE ATTEMPT.” Papyrus huffed at the thought of his two lazy relatives.

“no, it’s… okay.” Sans said, giving the bedroom door a little nudge closed just in case. “we’re here to help. dad gets pretty adamant about trying to help other versions of himself for… pretty obvious reasons.”

Gaster inhaled through his mouth. ‘I’m not sure. I told your dad a lot. I don’t think your mom wants to know.’

--

“It’s not for everyone, I suppose,” Chxlxthx said. “If you talk to Semi, maybe you two can cook together sometime?”

Semi nodded. “Does this happen a lot? Running into other Gasters. He made their lives sound like… it’s cursed, somehow? He didn’t actually use those words, but… it’s the impression I got.”

It’s my life, though, Gaster said. He struggled, trying to figure out how to express what he wanted to say, and the tightness in his chest, and--he thought he’d been doing really, really well these last few hours, actually talking and holding a conversation and stringing words together with enough meaning that someone understood him. But. But it failed him here, so he just repeated, it’s m i n e, and hoped the point was made.

--

“THAT WOULD BE LOVELY!” Papyrus grinned.

“no. this is only the second time and it’s just the other timeline further into the past.” Sans explained, “most of the time he’s… gone one way or another.”

At mention of a curse he sighed and closed his eyes with a shrug, “maybe. dad doesn’t believe in fate, but… it’s hard not to see it that way.”

Gaster frowned a little but wasn’t quite sure he fully understood. ‘I know.’ He signed, ‘Do you… want me not to medle?’

--

Chxlxthx smiled back. “What about the rest of your famly? Tell me a bit about them?”

Semi… he didn’t like the sound of that at all. “One way or another? So, dead, or…?”

“...my son. You’ve met him before?”

It’s mine, Gaster said again, signs becoming more erratic. You don’t get to decide if it’s good or not, or what to do with it.

--

“SANS IS A LAZY BAG OF BONES WHO TELLS HORRIBLE JOKES AND MY DAD IS AN OBSESSIVE MAD SCIENTIST WHO CURSES WAY TOO MUCH.” Papyrus said, sounding annoyed even though he wasn’t.

“we don’t know. i don’t usually ask.” Sans said, “yeah. older version.”

Gaster looked hurt. He paused, ‘Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.’

--

“Surely, there’s some good things to say?” Chxlxthx said, smiling a little still, but trying to coax Papyrus into something a bit more positive.

“...can you tell me about him?” Semi asked. He scratched the horns of his head and looked a bit… not embarrassed, but perhaps a related emotion. “...in case Chxlxthx and I really do die. I’d like to know the kind of man my son grows up to be.”

He didn’t care that the double looked hurt. Nope. No. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care.

He’d hurt plenty of people before, and this one should’ve been no different. Hurt happened. It was his own fault for showing up in Gaster’s life and immediately changing it so much and then trying to take control over it.

So instead, he just kept his face hard and angry, and said, Good.

Be sorry.

--

“THEY ARE BOTH VERY SMART.” Papyrus said without having to think too much about it. “SANS TOOK CARE OF ME WHEN DAD WASN’T AROUND. HE CAN BE VERY HARD-WORKING WHEN HE WANTS TO BE. DAD IS… HE’S NOT A BAD PERSON.” He smiled a little, but looked as though those words were more for convincing himself. “HE’S JUST A LITTLE ROUGH AROUND THE EDGES AND NEEDS A LITTLE EXTRA ATTENTION.”

“he’s a good guy.” Sans said, smiling. “really welcoming, even to strangers. went out of his way to save the alternate versions of me ‘n pap.”

Gaster watched him for a few moments, his expression going from hurt to unreadable. He then sat back in his chair and said nothing, his gaze shifting to look at where his sons had walked off to.

--

Chxlxthx’s expression became solemn as Papyrus finished speaking. “...that sounds like another similarity between our Gasters, then.”

She glanced at the door, making sure it was shut, before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Are you not his sons in our world?” Semi asked, but smiled anyway. The person being described sounded… completely different from the boy he currently knew. But he knew his kid well enough to recognize the seeds of that personality, he thought. It was good to hear that, despite everything, things sounded like they turned out okay.

Cold, hard fear trickled down Gaster’s spine as his double looked away.

He’d just chased off the only person who’d talk with him.

He’d fucked up. He’d.

He wanted to curl up tight and disappear forever. He wanted to curl tighter into a ball at the table.

...he got up.

And walked, calmly, to his room, keeping his expression stony. Closed the door behind himself. And beat his head against the wall.

--

Papyrus glanced at the door too. “WELL… I’M KIND OF USED TO DEALING WITH IT. SANS HAS HAD A LOT OF TROUBLE TOO. BUT NOW SANS IS MOSTLY BETTER AND I HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DAD. SOME DAYS ARE… KIND OF BAD. WORSE THAN USUAL, I GUESS.” He was still trying to help her around the kitchen as he spoke.

“HE CAN’T SLEEP UNLESS I’M HOLDING ONTO HIS SOUL. HE PRETENDS LIKE NOT FEELING ANYTHING DOESN’T BOTHER HIM, BUT… I KNOW IT DOES. IT BOTHERS HIM THAT HE DOESN’T HAVE HIS OWN BODY ANYMORE.”

“BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT THAT. I TRY AND GET HIM TO STILL DO NORMAL THINGS MONSTERS WOULD DO. EAT AND SLEEP AND GO OUTSIDE. BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE I COULD DO.”

He had found a dishrag, twisting it in his hands as he spoke.

“kinda. about the same as we are. clones. experiments.” Sans shrugged.

Gaster teleported from the table instantly outside his bedroom door and pushed it open.

“Don’t do that.” He said sternly, having heard the thud as soon as the door shut. If earlier in the living room was indication enough, the kid had a habit of hurting himself.

--

Chxlxthx nodded understandingly, and handed him a plate so he could have something to do. He didn’t have to dry it if he got more focused on the talk, but if he needed a distraction, a plate would be a fine sacrifice.

“It sounds like a lot’s happened… is it just you taking care of him, though?” That seemed like… an awful lot of responsibility for a parent to put on their child.

“Oh,” Semi said. “Um. Gee. I guess that’s one way to get more skeletons.”

He was getting really good at accepting the weird things as they came.

Gaster jolted at the sudden intrusion. He whipped around and threw a bone at the invader.

--

Papyrus took the plate and started to dry it. “SANS TRIES TOO, BUT HE’S JUST NOW STARTED TO TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF.”

“HE DIDN’T PUT ANY RESPONSIBILITY ON ME. NOT INTENTIONALLY. I JUST NOTICED THESE THINGS AFTER AWHILE AND HAVE BEEN TRYING TO HELP. IF DAD HAD HIS WAY HE WOULD HAVE KEPT EVERYTHING HIDDEN FROM US. HE WENT NEARLY A WEEK WITHOUT SLEEPING JUST BECAUSE HE DIDN’T HAVE THE HEART TO ASK US TO HOLD HIM SO HE COULD SLEEP.”

“eh.” Sans smiled and shrugged.

The bone stabbed him through the shoulder but his expression didn’t change. It had stopped him from banging his head, which was what he wanted.

He stood and watched him.

--

Chxlxthx continued nodding, “I see... still, that’s an awful lot of pressure you’re under. Remember you can only do your best to give them a safe place and take care of yourself; it’s up to them to do the rest.”

She reached over to give Papyrus a gentle hug.

With a minimum of 80 limbs, she was an excellent hugger.

“If you’re okay telling me about this, maybe I can offer some suggestions? What we do with our Gaster might be very different, but if you’re really at a loss, it can’t hurt to bounce some ideas or share experiences.”

“Nothing in life is weird anymore, I take it?” Semi said, finding more humor in the nonchalant shrug than was probably intended.

It had stopped him from acting at that moment, but the impulse was still curling tight in his chest and mingling with the anger and small terror of being snuck up on, and he could hardly unclench his hands.

GET OUT, he signed, movements jerking and furious.

--

Papyrus nodded, pouting a little. He accepted the hug with no hesitation.  “YES. I’D LIKE THAT.”

“nah.” Sans let out a small chuckle.

‘Do you really want me to get out?’ Gaster signed calmly.

--

At the complete lack of hesitation in the hug, Chxlxthx only held him tighter, and patted Papyrus’ head a bit. All grandbabies were still babies. Even when they were fully grown adults she’d only met an hour ago. “All right. We’ll do that, then.”

Semi laughed a bit too. “I can only imagine. Today’s already been weird enough for me that I don’t think I’ll be too surprised by anything for a long time.”

He paused sharply, though. “...sorry, do you hear something…?”

LEAVE.

He wasn’t allowed to look that fucking calm when Gaster could barely breathe.

A torrent of bones sprung from the floor, all aimed threateningly at his doppelganger.

--

Sans paused to listen, but couldn’t hear much. Either way something did seem off. “uhh…” He opened the door and looked at Semi.

Gaster still looked calm. His gaze drifted down to the bones threatening him from the floor.

… ‘Okay.’

He stepped out.

--

Semi stepped around Sans to look through the door. “...I’m just going to go check on everyone really quickly, you’re welcome to come…”

His muttering was more habit than thought as he pushed past the small skeleton to begin the search.

As soon as his double stepped out, indigo magic flared around the doorknob and slammed it shut.

The bones changed trajectory. From where his double once stood, to him.

His insides were boiling.

--

Gaster, unaware that his double had turned his magic on himself, turned to look for one of the parents. He pulled the bone from his shoulder and his expression hadn’t changed.

Calm.

Calm hiding a tsunami just under the surface.

After catching sight of Semi from another doorway he gestured to him to come and then towards the door to Gaster’s room.

--

After seeing that gesture towards his son’s room? Semi wasted no time.

He hurried to Gaster’s door and knocked, calling his name twice before announcing he was coming in.

He rushed inside a moment later, the door blocking the view from the hall.

There was a short, sharp sound of agony. And nothing else.

--

The lights in Gaster’s eyes went out. Sans rounded the corner just in time to hear the cry and see his father.

Oh no.

“dad? dad.” Sans mumbled, his steps growing quicker towards him.

But you couldn’t be faster than a teleport. With just one step he was gone. Sans cursed under his breath and hovered outside the door. “is. uh. everything okay in there?”

Dad would survive for awhile on his own.

--

Semi sat on the floor, blocking Gaster from sight, with two long bones sticking out of his side and leg. Others had been impaled in the walls or floor.

It looked someone’d had an extremely one-sided fight and lost, badly.

“F-fine,” Semi said, still grinning despite the twin impailments. “Fine. Sorry. Tell Chxlxthx. She’ll know what to do. Sorry about this. We should’ve been more careful.”

His wings curled down protectively over the little skeleton he was hiding.

--

“oh shit.” Sans wasted no time to spin around and run back to the kitchen, bursting through the door.

“yo, uh, gonna need a little help in the kid’s room. something bad happened.” He pointed a thumb behind him.

Papyrus instantly looked concerned.

--

Chxlxthx wasted no time. She unwound any remaining vines around Papyrus and moved through the doorway and to her son’s room immediately. She didn’t make a sound when she saw what had happened, but kept at a brisk pace, snatching a medical kit from her own bedroom.

It was an afterthought that she turned to their two guests. “It will be fine. Find your father and please try to relax. We have this under control.”

She vanished into Gaster’s room and closed the door.

[pagans-dream]

1. Honor the Ancestors Samhain is for ancestors, right? Why bother with it at Thanksgiving? Well, as a pagan parent I have some news for you: Samhain has another name, and the name is CANDY. Trying to balance the deep seated childhood drive to wear costumes and collect the freely given sugar goods with genuine veneration of those who have come before us can be difficult at best. I’ve joked with a lot of pagans that Halloween is Pagan Christmas. It’s a busy time. In my community we almost always have big Halloween parties for the adults, as well as costumes for the kids, visits to the grandparents for trick or treating events throughout the month, the Zoo Boo, not to mention the actual religiosity of the season with big Samhain rituals to plan for both adults and kids. It doesn’t actually leave a lot of time for building an ancestor shrine or talking to my kids about their own personal dead relatives. So a couple of years ago I came up with an idea. During October I focus on modern Halloween. We do costumes and candy, decorate the whole house with skulls and dead things. It’s awesome, and is it’s own version of Samhain. After the big candy-fest I switch gears like a pagan Martha Stewart Pro, tucking away the bats and glittery ravens decorating the house. You don’t have glittery cardboard ravens? You should. They’re awesome. That’s when I set up my ancestors altar. I get out the photos and the tchotchkes: a teacup from Buckie Scotland and one from Poland, my great grandmother’s rolling pin and if I have room, my grandmother’s wedding dress. I let the kids look at all the things. When they were younger I printed out copies of old photos on my printer and let the kids cut up the images and tape them up so we wouldn’t ruin the originals. We give them daily offerings for the weeks between Samhain and Thanksgiving, allowing them some special, uninterrupted, family time. On turkey day we make a plate up for the ancestors and give them a glass of wine too. It’s actually a really cool conversation starter with relatives because they often will tell stories I don’t remember anymore. Ancestors blend with a day that is supposed to be about family. After that, I allow the fat man and his green and red decorating scheme to sneak out of the basement and start to emerge into the household, but only after the ancestors get their time. 2. Learn about the Native American Tribes in your Area We all know the story. White man comes to new land. Red man decides to not let him starve in what was most likely a foolishly generous move. Yay for pilgrim hats and feather headdresses! Everyone loves each other. Except for smallpox and a few other minor details. Except for that bad stuff we like to forget about. As pagans we are often in the process of reclaiming indigenous religion. For myself, I focus on the Indo-European traditions. I do think that means we need to be supportive and respectful of indigenous peoples, especially the ones native to this continent many of us call home. Take a little time and let Google lend a hand to learn about the history of the tribes who live and lived in your home area. Realize that the history of the native tribes is complex, just like the history of the Gaulish Romano-Celts or the interactions between the Greek city states. Historically the Potawatomi, Ojibwe, and Odawa were the tribes living in the lower peninsula. Together they created the Council of Three Fires, which as a Druid and a fire priestess, I find pretty rockingly awesome! 3. Eat Local This one is kind of obvious. We’re pagans. Even if you don’t have an Earth Mother that you honor in your pantheon, you probably have landvettir, fairies, or agricultural deities that would appreciate you being kind to the earth. So find a local farm to buy a turkey from. Eat food from your bioregion. Learn how to turn a real pumpkin into pumpkin pie. (Pro tip: don’t use a pumpkin. Bake a butternut squash and use that. The texture and flavor will be way better.) Sometimes farmer’s markets will have one last huzzah just before the winter sets in so that people can pick up items for the holidays. This can mean that thanksgiving will cost more. Look at it as an offering to the land spirits and to your health as well. 4. Be With People You Enjoy I’m not going to advocate for going to a relative’s house to eat crappy food and feel hateful toward people you have nothing in common with. Sorry. I know that’s the thing we’re all told to do. If you’re planning on picking up a fifth of something alcoholic in order to survive turkey day, I would say skip it. Stay home and watch football or weird Christmas movies on Netflix if that’s your only alternative. However, I do think that there’s something better than both those options. Go somewhere with people you care about. If that’s actually the people who you are related to, great! Find a Thanksgiving that will bring you happiness. Go somewhere you will laugh with actual humor and not that fake forced thing that happens when you do not feel loved or seen as a person. Or better yet, host a Friendsgiving. This is something my husband and I have done for years. We put out an offer for any friends who don’t have someplace to go and invite any relatives that would like to come. It makes for a fun and lively bunch of people with a weird mix of traditions and stories. One year there was a menorah made out of Legos. One year we had five stuffings. Let Thanksgiving be the time when you take the stranger into your house and show them hospitality, which is, after all, a druidic virtue. 5. Practice Gratitude Life is a gift. Everything we are and everything we will be is fed from the lives of other beings. On this day of thanks giving, take a moment and be still. Close your eyes and allow yourself to truly ponder your existence and the existence of your loved ones. We humans like to live our lives forgetting how fragile they truly are. It’s difficult to know what to do in the face of homelessness, war, and sickness. It’s difficult to feel the pain that those things bring up within us, but that pain is essential. It is a gift, too. Let yourself just exist with it for a moment. Then open your eyes. Smell the turkey cooking; listen to the sound of voices. Look around you. Even the shabby things, the chipped dishes or the worn curtains that you need to replace are gifts. This life is a gift made of things found from the earth. Each plastic cup, every napkin, every fork and knife on that table was made through the work of people from the materials of this planet. Every bit of it is made from nature to be used and kept by people. Cherish your things. Use them well. Cherish your people. Use them well too. Be respectful and kind. Never forget, this is all a gift. Happy Holidays, dear reader. http://www.patheos.com/blogs/agora/2015/11/dandelion-seeds-five-ways-to-have-a-pagan-thanksgiving/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=FBCP-PAG&utm_content=dandelionseeds

[strangegreensoul]

My family emigrated to this country five generations ago... I'm the fourth born here... I carry last names that aren't theirs cos someone wouldn't pay attention while writing them down or they wouldn't understand a dialect. Sometimes I blame them sometimes I don't.

I don't know my family story, they had a farm, says my grandma. I ask names but they cant remember anymore.

One thing I know is my grandma's grandma was what we now call a witch, she passed that down to most of the women on her family. Her name was Calogera.

My father's grandma was an Arab descendant woman from whom I have no idea but her skin color and her name. Amalia. The woman that could actually buy enough food to make her family a fancy meal.

Another grandma had to leave her husband behind, a child or two came with her. She lived till she was 70. I cant remember her name. Her last name was Altavista. Another name that it's not in my family anymore.

My father's father is an asshole. He never loved his family, he now misses a wife that he cheated and mistreated her whole life. She died 10 years ago. He wants to dream about her but can't. My family says that's because he made her life miserable. Everyone hates him. He now sits alone in his house. We all grew apart from him. The children he would hit or mistreat. My father was practically raised by his uncle and a neighbor whom he spoke marvels of. He left his house at 16. Never went back. He hasn't talked to his father since my grandma died.

My grandma has six siblings, one of them died around two years ago. Two siblings. Twins. Were stolen when born, supposedly dead, one appeared a few weeks ago, he is alive and grew up 50 minutes away from my family's house. The other died a couple years ago. They say he was the living image of my great grandma. The sibling that still live are all women. I cant recall all their names but I know them by nicknames i gave them when i was a child. The funny. The grumpy, the witch and my grandma. Susana.

I dont want to forget my family.

My family is one of immigrants. Farmers. Woodworkers. All they did in their lives was work.

My grandpa was barely there when my mum and aunt grew up. He was working. He loves them fondly. My grandma and him managed to build a home. Several times. They are in love. 56 years of marriage. Political and economical instability broke them down but they got up again. My grandpa says they are happy cos I can go to college. They didn't finished school. My mum finished it at 50. They say my life is going to be better than theirs. The have big Hope's and dreams.

I learn about my family's homeland online, atleast i think that's it. The country is correct. The town isn't. Far folk and myths seem to be everywhere.

I dont want to forget my

My father's mother was an artist. Sometimes I think it was the only way she had to escape. She painted landscapes of forests and houses of stone. She talked to plants. I like to think she was a fae folk. The magic in her hands was passed down. My father is the best with plants, they remind him of her, he calls her by her name, not mum, Nelly. Her magic got to me too. I can do almost everything with my hands. My friends call me Plant Girl. Flora. I like to think she would be proud. Illness took her in a week. My family was never the same again. Her mother was still alive, noone would tell her she died. My mother did, everyone hated her for that. We never ate together at Sundays again after she died. My baby cousins barely remeber her. One of my aunts can't let her go. My older cousin was rised by her, she got her name tattooed. She'll graduate from college this year.

I dont want to forget

I have lots of cousins and a niece I don't know because her mother was 16 when she was born. The smallest one is 2, she has purple eyes. We used to meet a lot. My grandma died. I don't see them anymore. My father family is a mess. He loves his cousins fondly. We had lunch the other day. I found out my grandpa was sick. Cancer. 2009. He didn't die. He made a full recovery. Everyone hates him for that. My grandma died shortly after. He saw her best friend last week. She hates him. She told him the truth noone wanted to tell him. He deserves all that he haves now. He is alone. I felt pity for him for a long time, I dont anymore. I called him a couple months ago, he didn't notice it had been 4 years. The last time I saw his face he asked me for a naked picture. I told my mum, she doesn't let me go to his house anymore. I hanged up the phone. I have no more hope on him nor pity. He is a monster and deserves it. He never loved anyone.

My mother's mother family was from a farm. Her father was a drinker, her mother was forced to marry him. 7 kids 2 dead. He died when my grandma was a child. My greatgrandma fell in love again, he was married, they loved each other. She died alone. Catalina.

My mother's father mother died wanting to eat something she actually enjoyed. Victorina. She followed diets her whole life. People could talk. My mother and aunt did the same. Sometimes I think so many diet pills was what made them easier targets from cancer. My aunt was given 8 months of life when I was child. She decided to see the world. She had breast cancer. It's been 10 years. Last year she was told she was cancer free. We now travel together. My mum was diagnosed when I was 2, skin cancer. Surgeries left her body full of scars. She shows them proud. 5 months ago she finally got told that she was fine, that's was it. The cancer was gone.

When my mother was pregnant a economical and political crisis torn down the country. My father lost his job. The had to leave the house they loved behind. They came to the house we now leave at. When my mother was 6 months pregnant there was a problem. I was born with 7 months. A underweight child, no job, no education. They managed to bring me up. My mum tends to leave half her plate, says she is not hungry. Gives it to me. We are okay now.

I don't want to

My grandma tends to switch languages to make me smile. My grandpa takes pictures of us when we are cooking or sewing. They teach me everything they know. They say it is just in case. They dont want me to start from nothing as they did. I'm their only grandchild. At some point I will be alone, they'll leave me. All of them. My life is perfect now, I don't want it to change. My grandparents worked all their lives, they are paid the minimum.

All my family comes from this place I know I shouldn't call mine because it isn't where i am from, tho, I think it it where I belong. I'm afraid I won't belong nowhere in my life. The country I was born at usually doesn't feel like home. I dont want to emigrate but I know I most likely would have to. I love my country but still it doesn't feel like...

The violence and lack of work made my family come here and are the same thing that's going to make me or my children go back to their country. No. I won't be welcome there. Fourth generation, I can't apply for citizenship.

I don't want

When I was a child my grandparents had to sell their farm, my grandma got sick. They came to the city. She is fine. My grandpa is sad they had to leave behind that life. Victor. City air used to make them sick. They bough a small land in the countryside, made a home for all of us.

They got me a dog too. Moha. She is 12, I'm afraid I'll lose her. She is a puppy at soul. She loves that farm. A friend of my father found a turtle on the street. She's been with us for 13 years. She loves strawberries. Sol.

My mum says she'll teach me a healing prayer on Christmas, her mother tought her. Her mother was tought by her sister whom learned it from her grandma. My mum's greatgrandma. The witch.

I'll like to think there is something hidden about my family. There are too many of us for life to be so...

I don't

My grandma can't remember her grandma's name, I don't want that to happen to me. I want to remember them forever.

My greatgrandpa's name was Emilio. My mum says I'm like him. An anarchists, a naturist. He ate different types of meat in a sandwich, as i do. I never met him. He died. Someone on the street stole his pension money. He was so angry.

Two years ago I went to the cemetery with my grandpa, we went visit his mother. I saw him cry for the first time. She is in a beautiful place. Someone stole the cross from her grave.

There are people that roam my house at night, my mum says I shouldn't worry. That it is her grandma, the woman from the cemetery. I know it's not just her, my grandma visits from time to time too. There is a dog in the garden too. We say hi to hummingbirds and monarch butterflies cos my grandma used to love them. They are her messengers.

My grandpa's grandpa was one of three sibling that emigrated here. My father half knows something of the bloodline of one, the other was lost for a long time. I started college. We had a group assignment. I'm used to spelling my last name but this girl tells me to just tell her cos she is used to. She tells me she knows my last name. No one does. She was the classmate of triplets with the same name on secondary school. I cry when I get home that day, it's the first time I heard of someone with my name. I'm so happy. My father tells me I have a cousin that has it too, the girl that left when she got pregnant. I've never seen that classmate again. I have so many questions but I know it's dumb to ask her. She wouldn't know.

I visited my grandparents. We made a genealogical tree. I know so many people now. I have everyone written down. I learn names and places that I've never heard before. Grandma and I laught for hours, now i can keep track when she talks about her cousins.

I