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thorne93 · 6 years

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Just My Luck (Part 7 - FINAL)

Prompt: Imagine accidentally walking into the men’s bathroom and seeing this fine specimen (James McAvoy)

Word Count: 2123

Warnings: Language, attack/violence/domestic abuse, mention/attempted rape, sexual harassment,

Notes: Collab fic with my girl @cocosierra94!!! Internal thoughts are in Italics, texts are in bold.

We are working on an epilogue

@missinstantgratification

Tags: @marvel-imagines-yes-please @nilalovessadness @tacohead13 @captain-fuckinglevi @bohemianrhapsody @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername@kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

James Mcavoy Tags: @bohemianrhapsody86 @lenawiinchester

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The way back home went rather smoothly, the whole trip seemed natural as if going to your grandparents’ house was a weekly thing. You could definitely see yourself doing this more often with him. Entering your apartment you asked him, “ So… how did you enjoy farm life?”

“It was hard-- but I loved every minute of it. Mostly it was nice to see how you grew up and now I see why you’re such a hard worker.”

“Well I’m glad you loved it. More importantly I’m glad they loved you as much as I do. Papa was telling me before we left you’re like the city son he never had.”

“He said that did he? Haha, he must really like me then, that’s a relief!”

“Yeah I saw you two really hit it off. So uh… what’d y’all talk about?” you questioned him while wagging your eyebrows at him.

“Haha, oh no, I’m not telling unless you tell me what Nana really thinks of me.”

“She practically gushed over how handsome and polite you are, but we didn’t talk much about you… I mean we did but not mostly.”

“Well what did you talk mostly about then?”

“We talked ab-- didn’t I ask you first?” you retorted, catching onto his tricks

James countered with a cheeky grin and laugh, “You already started!”

You rolled your eyes with a small laugh. “Whatever, we were talking about me possibly going back to school for photography.”

“Really?! That’s a great idea! What can I do to help make this happen?”

“Whoa, you can start by calming down for a second.. It’s just a thought right now, I’m still not sure if I should or not.”

“Okay, whatever you decide, I support you one-hundred percent. I really hope you do it though, I mean if it makes you happy then why not?”

You smiled giving thought to the encouraging words he spoke.

“Thanks for your your support. Now….. What did you guys talk about?”

“You…. all good things of course, but first you have to promise you won’t get mad at me..”

“....That depends, James, what did you do?”

“Nothing bad, but just so you know you mean everything to me and naturally anything you love I treasure as well.”

“Get to the point, McAvoy.”

“Well I talked to your grandfather about how he might feel if I asked you to move in together.,,, now I realize that we haven’t talked about that, but I’ve been wanting to ask you for sometime now, however, I wanted to get permission before I even proposed the idea. I wanted him to know you would be well cared for.”

You sat there, stunned. You weren’t mad, you were surprised that: A) your Papa agreed to this and, B) that James had been wanting to move in together. It isn’t like you hadn’t thought of asking him yourself, but this man cared enough to ask permission. His voice of concern cut through your thoughts and snapped you back to reality.

“Darling are you alright? You aren’t upset with me are you?”

“No, no! It’s not that...”

“Do you not want to move in together then?” The sadness in his voice just about broke your heart.

“James, honey, I’m just shocked. I should know by now you’re full of surprises,” you said with a small chuckle. “I didn’t suspect you were thinking about that and not to mention that Papa said yes.. He must really like you more than I thought.”

“Ah yes, well he did lovingly remind me of that 12 gauge he has. He even took the liberty of taking me to the old shed for target practice.”

“Haha, he did what?! I’m gonna get that old man.”

“So.. What do you say? Do you want to move in together??”

“Under one condition….”

He looked at you quizzingly. “Depends,” he said, half smiling.

“We get a dog.”

“A dog? Really, that’s it?”

“Yes! I’ve been thinking of getting one anyway. I kinda already have one in mind.” You pulled out your phone to show him.

James burst out laughing. “You’ve been looking already?! Without me? I suppose next you’re gonna tell me you have a name picked out already?”

Sheepishly you grinned at him.”Hehe, this is Chester...”

He laughed jovially. A sound that warms your heart every time.

“Come on just look at that face!”

His eye moved from the screen to your face, so full of love. He lifted you face to met his, kissing you deeply and passionately. “I love you (y/n).”

You smiled brightly, eyes glazed with adoration, “I love you too, James. You know, I think that the first time you’ve said that to me.”

“The first time I’ve said it out loud to you.”

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

Standing on the balcony of your flat, you gazed out over the city as the sun was setting, the brisk wind sweeping your hair all around you. A content, languid feeling filled you from deep within as you had a look back on this past year.

James and you had moved in together, he had bought an opulent penthouse in New York for the two of you. It was probably three or four times too big, and at his core he really didn’t like being flashy, neither did you, but he wanted to be sure the two of you had enough space for his things and yours, and that Chester had plenty of room to move around while you two were at work.

The apartment seemed like something out of a high end magazine or those pictures from “Top 100 living spaces”. Every piece of furniture was top mark, every piece of art hand picked by both of you, every linen the best money could buy. It took a long time to get used to the lifestyle James could afford and lavish you in.

Finally though, the two of you adjusted. You worked around his filming and touring schedule as best you could. You worked diligently with Rachel while trying to pick up a few classes for photography, but with a full time job, it was a little bit of a struggle. James was gone for a good chunk of the year, but it didn’t put a strain on the relationship. Both of you felt it was healthy and a sign of a strong relationship. Of course you called, texted, and video-chatted whenever you could.

Not to say you didn’t have your ups and downs, you did, between the two of you being exhausted and overworked, and missing each other. But it was definitely more ups than downs. Every chance you were together was filled with love, joy, and tender touches.

You would’ve never dreamed in a thousand years you’d be standing here, in an expensive ensemble, getting ready for an event with an elite celebrity as your boyfriend, standing in an ornate apartment. Life had really pulled together for you -- finally. After all the trials and tribulations, heartache and loss, you could finally say you were happy.

James had surprised you, yet again, as he always did about six months ago. Your family farm was having some trouble, and although the pride your grandparents shared tried to keep it hidden, it wasn’t any secret. They already had to sell fifty acres last fall. So, your amazingly wonderful boyfriend took it upon himself to buy the farm - well over what it was really worth.

He turned around and sold it back to your grandparents for $1, handing them deed and all.

But the generosity didn’t stop there.

Working with your family firsthand, James had seen how tiring and backbreaking a farm could be, and he couldn’t fathom the amount of strain it put on your ever-aging grandparents. Which is why he hired some help. He told them to find some farmhands that they trusted and agreed to pay their full wages.

At first, your grandparents were overwhelmed and denied James over and over again until he firmly insisted. He couldn’t bear the thought of them losing their home, your home, their income, their livelihood due to pride. He knew times were tough and he could appreciate that more than most and just wanted to help out.

When they finally caved, it was nothing but waterworks. Nana started bawling like crazy before throwing her arms around James and kissing his face all over and cheering, before pulling you into the embrace, making it a happy-crying-hugging-fest. Papa teared up slightly but tried to hide it before shaking James hand and thanking him over and over again.

Every time you talked to them or called them, they said “Make sure to tell James we love him! And thank him for us!” It was rather adorable and it warmed your heart beyond any measure. They had truly taken him in as if he were there own, and it was a dream come true for you.

“Darling?” James’ voice sounded right behind you, stirring you slightly from your thoughts.

You spun to see him. “Oh, hi, love,” you greeted softly as he walked up, his hands behind his back. “I didn’t hear you come in,” you admitted.

“I sort of snuck in,” he confessed with a slight half smile. “I have a gift for you, brought it back from my trip,” he said.

“Oh?” you questioned, your brow quirking up.

“Mhm,” he said before pulling out a box from behind his back and handing it to you. “Go on, open it,” he encouraged.

“James, you shouldn’t have,” you gushed.

“I should have, and I did,” he said confidently as he gestured again at the box.

Sighing with an air of humor, you worked on unwrapping the bow and pulling off the paper, exposing a normal box. With a slight frown, you opened the box, exposing a camera inside. You pulled the object out, eyeing it with curiosity.

“James...What is this? You already gave me a camera? It works wonderfully.”

“I know...But I thought this camera was extra special,” he remarked as his eyes widened for a moment. “If you check the serial number, you’ll see this is the exact camera that you sold to go back home. The one your Papa got you. I was able to track it down and thought you might want this piece of history back.”

Speechless. No words came to you. Only feeling. Love, eternal and burning love forthis man in front of you.

“James,” you said, tears in your eyes before you finally wrapped him in a tight embrace and he laughed lightly. “Thank you, thank you os much. I thought this was lost forever.”

“No, surely not. Why don’t you fire it up and make sure it still works?” he suggested.

“Alright,” you said as you turned on the precious object, and you noticed there was already one picture on the SIM card. “Oh, looks like they didn’t wipe all the photos. Wonder what it was?” you said with curiosity as you opened the picture, and you were puzzled.

In front of you was a ring, in a box, it was an exquisite ring that stole your breath. You wondered what it could possibly mean, or why they didn’t delete it. You turned to James to show him and ask him, but when you turned, he was already on his knee, the same ring in hand, peering up at you with love and adoration.

Gasping, and nearly shrieking, you almost dropped the camera.

“James!” you exclaimed, your heart racing too fast, your mind doubling in speed.

“Y/N, this past year with you has been a dream come true. I never thought I could meet someone so caring, and sweet, and strong as you. And I’ve known for quite some time that I wanted to make you my wife and spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I will love you so long as there is sunshine. I will love you so long as the sea rushes to shore. I will love you so long as you continue to remain your loving, selfless, intelligent self. Could you do me the incredible honor of giving me your hand in marriage?”

Tears had streaked their way down your face, you hadn’t even realized you were crying, not really. But you were thrilled, excited, shocked, surprised, delighted….you weren’t sure what you were feeling, which made it hard for you to answer. Starting to nod, you realize he needed a verbal response, prompting you to swallow down the crying and finally say, “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

James stood quickly and kissed you earnestly, where you returned the favor before he slipped the ring on your finger, the two of you marveling at it.

#just my luck #james mcavoy #james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy fic

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treehugginglibrarian · 3 years

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My Nana is Why I’m Like This

Writing about my Nana is hard, because our relationship was at times hard. I think anyone with an alcoholic or an addict in the family can relate to that. I learned a fair many lessons from her over the years, all of them useful even if not all of them were lessons that were learned in an enjoyable manner. That said, lessons are not what I want to think about just yet. Yes, she was flawed. When she was in a good place, though, and at her best, she was a truly wonderful human. For now, at least, for the few minutes it takes to write each of these pieces, I’m going to let myself pretend that this lovely person is all that ever existed of my Nana. To that, I offer some of her more poignant, thoughtful, or generally amusing moments.

Blankie

When I was a baby, basically everyone in my life lived in Massachusetts, as did I. My Nana lived in a nice house in Richmond with her husband at the time. Whenever we would visit, my mother would put a blanket down on the couch so as to ensure that if I puked, or drooled, or spit up, or just did baby-things in my sleep, my Nana’s couch would be safe. Apparently, after so many months of this, I eventually decided the blanket I was laying on was “mine.”

My mother found this out when she tucked it into a closet after we got home one evening, and I started to cry. She opened the closet and I stopped. Close: Cry. Open: Stop. When she walked me into the closet, I apparently pulled the blanket in question off the shelf, stuck my thumb in my mouth, and settled down. I had a blankie. While this was fine for sleeping and such, my mother was a little concerned. Not because blankets are inherently bad, as even back then there were psychological studies showing that children with comfort toys were actually better adjusted than those without. No, she was worried about more practical matters. Such as laundry day. Or if the damned thing should happen to go missing.

Enter my Nana, to save the day.

My Nana had not found the “original” blankie, but she was who found the “spare” that, excepting the overall color, was exactly identical to the one I used every night. So it was that on most days and nights I could be found dragging around a pink and white gingham and flower print blankie, as though it was a fifth limb. On occasion, however, this blanket would be replaced with one that was yellow. So that the pink one could get washed. Until, at the age of 13 or so, an age at which most normal humans would have long since stopped carting a blanket anywhere, I did something crazy: I retired the pink blankie. Torn to bits and more patchwork than blanket, it was time.

My yellow blanket took over, full time, moving into the task like the champ that it was. Sporting little more wear or tear than a grey foot print from a porch painting incident, this blanket has incidentally been a fair many places with me. It went away to college with me. It moved to Israel with me. It deployed to Iraq with me. It is the blanket I have cried into over failed relationships, fucked up friendships, and fights with my mom. And, yes, it was the blanket I sobbed into when I fully realized that I was never going to see my Nana again.

As for how this came to be… My mother watched a young boy have his comfort object taken away when it was done to one of her babysitting charges. She swore that, even if his parents didn’t realize it, he was never completely the same. Comfort objects are constants. Present when distance, disagreements, or death separate us from the people who matter most. She swore then and there, well before she’d ever read any research reinforcing her opinion, that she would never do that to her child. Which is how I was a 24-year-old Army Officer who ended up taking a blanket to Iraq with me. It’s also probably why I have a stuffed cow that’s been to more countries than most humans I know.

Shirley Temples

I have an absurd fondness for Shirley Temples. That’s not a typo in which I pluralized a child actress, nor is it a reference to a rather fun tap dance step. No, it’s a reference to a non-alcoholic mixed drink typically made with Sprite or 7-Up, grenadine, and cherries. Mind you, I don’t much care for Sprite, 7-Up, or maraschino cherries on their own. But mixed with grenadine and presented to me on a special occasion, my brain is convinced it is the best thing ever.

This is completely my Nana’s fault.

As a child, I was fascinated by the glasses that my Nana’s drinks came in. I was disinterested in the drinks themselves, as they smelled funny, but I liked the glasses. They were so fancy and grown up, and everything you said seemed more important if you were holding one. To that end, my Nana took to ordering me a Shirley Temple in a martini glass whenever we were out for a special occasion, that way I could feel important and profound just like the grown ups.

It didn’t take long for special occasions with my Nana to translate into special occasions of all sorts, and for the glass shape to stop mattering quite so much. As I got older, Shirley Temples became my go-to drink if I was out with friends, out for a celebration, or at a wedding, and I knew I should’t be drinking alcohol. Yes, yes, I have been introduced to the “Dirty Shirley” and, while I find the drink amusing, I prefer wine, whiskey, or bourbon if I want actual alcohol.

At a bar after a car accident a few years ago, I asked the bartender if he could make me a Shirley Temple (I was on concussion protocol, no alcohol for at least two weeks), and he found the request so endearing he refused to charge me for it. And, no, he actually wasn’t hitting on me. When I asked him how much it was, his response was, “No charge. That’s the cutest drink I’ve made in weeks. The chance to be a kid at work doesn’t have a price tag attached.”

Courtesy of my Nana’s desire to include me when I was a small child, a simple drink now has dozens of happy memories attached to it and has become a tradition so ingrained that I genuinely cannot think of the word “celebration” without thinking of Shirley Temples. Someday, when my nieces or nephews get married, I’m gonna be that eccentric 50-some-year old woman sitting there with my rainbow hair and my excessive glitter, sipping a bright pink drink.

My Nana would approve.

Scotland

When I was nearly 7, my Nana whisked me away on a near empty flight to a beautiful land of greenery, castles, and grey skies, so we could celebrate my birthday. It was October, so the British Isles weren’t exactly a cheery place to be. It was of no matter to me, though. Every part of the trip, from the passport to the money to the fact that my Scottish great aunt and uncle did not understand the purpose of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, was fascinating to my tiny little brain.

From the moment we landed, I found the “strangeness” of Scotland to be intensely intriguing. I was amused by the fact that my great uncle’s car had the steering wheel on the “wrong” side. I was baffled by the idea that buildings as old as the castles we toured could possibly be standing still. I was mesmerized by the sheer amount of red hair, something I almost never saw back home unless I was looking in a mirror or looking at my mom.

My great aunt Nan was in the beginning stages of what would eventually become dementia, which meant I was eternally referred to as Tammy (my mom’s nickname) and often asked about memories of a childhood I hadn’t lived. I eventually stopped correcting her and, instead, goaded her into telling me about these memories. It’s a sneaky way to learn about your mother’s childhood that only a child can cheekily get away with!

On my birthday, she made me a giant fluffy cake that was covered in bright pink, strawberry icing, and put zero limitations on how much of it I could eat. There was always tea, always, which went a long way towards explaining how my mother had ended up passionately obsessed with the stuff. Presented to me with honey and cream in it, I came home with a new appreciation for my mother’s preferred beverage.

At a tea shop, having no idea what any of the desserts or cakes were, I asked the person taking our order to bring me their favorite. Thus, at the age of 7, I was introduced to scones. Which I described as “cookie biscuits,” because they were too fluffy to be one and too sweet to be the other. I still enjoy them immensely, but only with tea, and I still think they’re technically “cookie biscuits.”

My Nana taught me at a young age that it was not only okay to be curious about the things you didn’t understand, it was okay to go explore them. To ask questions. To try new things. Nearly 30 years after this first adventure overseas, I still travel in much the same way. With a curiosity that is intent on learning about the country and the culture I’m momentarily immersing myself in, a desire to find out what the locals like best, and a fondness for trying all of the hot beverages and desserts humanly possible while there.

Glow-in-the-Dark

Me: Nana, do you remember that time Aunt Anita asked me about blowjobs? Nana: *snort of laughter* Yes, of course I do. You were 14 and you were mortified.

This recollection, gifted to a darkened bedroom in my step-great-grandmother’s house in Montauk, called to mind an event two year’s prior. While visiting relatives in Cape Cod, my great Aunt Anita had asked me if I put condoms on men before giving them blowjobs. Before anyone freaks out, she was on the older side, had never met me before, and probably had no idea that I was only 14 at the time.

My mother was somewhere between mortified, furious, and amused. My Nana laughed and explained that, as her granddaughter was only 14, it was actually pretty unlikely I had given all that many blowjobs in my life. My great aunt looked at me expectantly and, when I nodded the affirmation that my Nana was correct, she sighed and patted my hip. “Child,” she said, “don’t make them wear them.” She raised a finger in the air to emphasize her next point, “it’s not about them, mind you. It’s just that the only thing that tastes worse than a dick, is lubricated latex.”

The more you know, I suppose.

(It is worth noting that I have no idea how this conversation started. I walked downstairs for a glass of water and simply found myself being asked about blowjobs. I like to imagine my great aunt would be entertained to know I’ve given up on dicks entirely.)

Anyway, lying in the dark in Montauk two years later, still having never given a blowjob, I offered my Nana this tidbit: I found out they make flavored condoms. That would solve Aunt Anita’s problem! Nana: *hilarious laughter* I’ll be sure to tell her that the next time I talk to her! Me: They also make glow-in-the-dark ones. Though I feel like that would be a little too much like turning a penis into a lightsaber. Nana: *contemplative silence* Sweetheart, if you need it to glow in the dark, you need more than just a condom I think.

I offer no wisdom or insight gleaned from this exchange. I know only that for years to come afterwards, if either of us noticed something truly absurd while out and about together, we’d point at it and just mutter “look, a glow-in-the-dark condom,” and the other would know exactly what we meant.

Charming the ROTC

“We’re going to Daytona Beach. You should come. We’re gonna stop in Fort Meyers so George can see her great aunt or something.”

So began my spring break trip my sophomore year of college. The only year that I went on what most would consider a “typical” spring break trip, as the two years after that I traveled via the geography department on my campus. Since my Nana lived quite close to Fort Meyers, we figured it only appropriate to stop in and say ‘hi’ to her while we were in the area. Which is how she ended up with 8 or 10 ROTC cadets showing up on her doorstep crazy early in the morning on an April day.

We had set out quite early the day prior intending to drive all the way through. The end state was that we ended up arriving at like 6am or something. Blessedly my Nana was still an early riser, so she welcomed us all in and got us settled with showers and naps. She stuck around much of the afternoon, keeping us company while we splashed in the pool, getting to know the boy I was dating at the time, and peppering my college friends with questions about pretty much anything she wanted.

They were wholly charmed, with at least one of them threatening to steal her away and make her an honest woman. Again.

Come evening, not wanting to witness the debauchery or “get in the way,” she headed a couple doors down to stay with a friend. She’d pointed us in the direction of the wine bottles and the glasses, asking only that we not ransack the expensive stuff, and making a remark about the cleaner being in the day after tomorrow.

I’m not certain what she’d expected to find when she came back the next day, early afternoon, but I don’t think a nearly spotless apartment was it. I had awoken to one of my friends vacuuming. Someone else was scrubbing a bathroom. A third person was unloading a dishwasher that I’d drunkenly loaded and run the night prior. I began stripping beds and doing laundry. By noon or so that day, when she came back over intending to say goodbye as we made our way a touch up the coast to George’s great aunt, the apartment was cleaner than when we’d gotten there.

Naturally, my Army buddies were welcome to come back to visit her any time they wanted. Though O’Dell did get warned that if he asked her to marry him again she was probably going to say yes and that would make things super awkward for me!

I think we’d all have been that polite and respectful of anyone we were visiting. I also think that my Nana made it easier, though, just by being herself. She was the type of person you wanted to be good to. Exuberant from the moment we walked in the door, ever the charmer, ever the entertainer, and wanting only for everyone around her to have fun. It was a simple task to want to repay that kind of energy, even if only in the form of a super clean apartment.

Swimming with Dolphins

Have you ever gotten sun poisoning?

No? You’re a sane and normal human for whom sunscreen is sufficient protection against the big orange ball in the sky? Fuck you and your melanin, I hate you both.

I have gotten sun poisoning.

In Key West.

When my Nana took me to swim with the dolphins.

Stop laughing, I’m not fucking joking!

The day started out fantastic. Obviously. There were dolphins! Does any day that starts with dolphins start out badly? No. Of course not. As I was with my over-protective Nana, I was slathered in SPF five million. Apparently that was no match for the Florida sun in open water, though. Around 3am the next morning I woke up to projectile vomit basically everything I’d consumed after my dolphin adventure. This continued. And continued. And continued. Until, around 7am, it was decided I needed a doctor.

There was basically no one in the waiting room at the hospital in Key West. Despite this fact, after waiting for over an hour, we left. Unsurprisingly, we actually had much better luck at a local family doctor who, despite having a waiting room full of people, was able to see me within 30 minutes or so. He prescribed a suppository which my Nana took me to pick up at a local pharmacy, and then I got to have happy fun times trying to shove drugs up my ass.

By late afternoon the puking had mostly subsided. My Nana had ordered Chinese food as she knew doing so would afford her the ability to order me way too much rice, which I ate tentatively but gratefully. We then got dressed in something resembling normal clothes and decided to salvage the afternoon with a trip down to the shore/board walk/shopping area. At some point I puked in a trash can. At another point my Nana convinced me a popsicle would probably be a good idea since I really needed electrolytes. At one point we walked past a jeweler that was selling gemstone globes and I lamented the fact that I was not feeling well enough to go in and look properly.

As the sun set, we found ourselves sitting on a bench watching buskers, my Nana eating some sort of street food and me eating soup of some sort, having managed to almost salvage 60% of our last day in Key West. I apologized for having ruined our weekend and my Nana kissed my cheek and told me any weekend with me would never be ruined.

The next morning, I felt almost right as rain, though insanely hungry. So we went back down to the shops and such and got pancakes and french toast and all those other things that are delicious but terrible for upset tummies. She then detoured us passed the jewelry store, where we ducked inside and I bought my first gemstone globe. An expense I couldn’t afford, but that I’m insanely grateful I spent the money on. I love that sparkly orb so very much!

Half-way across the bridge back to the mainland, the flashing lights of an annoyed police officer showed up in the rearview mirror. When he walked up to the car and realized the young one was the passenger, I couldn’t tell if he was amused or miffed.

“I’m so sorry, Officer,” I said, leaning across my Nana and smiling as big as I could. “She brought me down here to swim with the dolphins, and wouldn’t you know I got sick and spent yesterday in the hospital. She’s just trying to get me home to a familiar bed and some soup. We’ll slow down.”

The Officer studied me for a minute before telling me to feel better, and letting us off with a warning.

“Out,” I said, pointing out of the car, as soon as he’d driven away. “You cannot be trusted with the keys, out!”

My Nana looked sheepish as we switched sides and I got us back to Naples, sans accidents or speeding tickets.

A month later, I called my Nana laughing hysterically. “They billed me,” I said, unable to control myself. “They billed me as though I saw a doctor. 1800 dollars! They billed me at the hospital.”

My Nana gasped, “They charged you that much to check your fucking blood pressure? You called and yelled at them, right?”

“Of course I did,” I said. “I told them they couldn’t have my money until they treated me, and they voided the bill. But still,” I sighed, still chuckling, “they fucking billed me.”

The family doctor that actually treated me? Still don’t know what I owe him. Either he figured out how to bill Tricare, or he decided an Army Officer puking her brains out was on the house. My guts thank him, either way.

Surprise!

In what had to be the strangest quirk about my Nana, she was probably the only grandmother I know of who didn’t like it when her grandchildren came to stay with her. Admittedly, she didn’t seem to like it all that much when anyone came to stay with her. Everything about our visits stressed her out. Having to plan for our arrival stressed her out. Feeling like she had to entertain us stressed her out. Having us interrupt her perfectly ordered living environment stressed her out. It wasn’t uncommon to feel like you were being shoved out the door by the time a visit was over because, in all honesty, you probably were.

This was helped immeasurably when my Uncle got his own place about 30 minutes from my Nana. Unlike her, he is not an overly ordered individual who likes his living arrangement “just so” and feels compelled to plan for someone’s visit. He really doesn’t care who’s there or not, he’s probably doing his thing no matter what. I started staying with him when I would visit my Nana, eliminating the major stressor of “human interrupting stable environment.”

I eliminated her compulsion to plan for my visit by simply showing up. Unannounced. Like a next door neighbor asking for sugar or milk.

The first time I did this I hadn’t seen my Nana in over a year or so. The visit prior had been… unpleasant… and I had needed some space to recover and recoup. My Nana, though one of my favorite humans, was an alcoholic. This meant visits, or parts of them, could occasionally be volatile. Initially, I had planned to go to Florida just to see my Uncle. He said he’d feel awful if he saw me and my Nana didn’t, though, and insisted I at least see her while I was down. I agreed, but only under the condition that he didn’t tell her I was coming. I didn’t want any of the nonsense and fuss that often led to her stressing herself sick (read: drunk) and, ultimately, wishing none of us were there.

So it was that on a warm February evening I arrived for a “condo complex party” at my Nana’s, and tappity-tapped on her lanai door while calling in a sing-song voice, “Nana, Nana, I’m coming in. I want a hug! And some wine!”

To say she was shocked to see me would be the understatement of the century. I was slightly worried I’d induced a heart attack at first. Shortly after the shock, however, came sheer and unadulterated delight. Possibly the first time I’d seen her be that delighted to see me since I was in high school. Five minutes later, when her friend Cornel arrived and I opened the door he went through the same series of emotions before saying, accusingly, “Ruth! You didn’t tell me Lyndsey was coming to town.”

“Well, I didn’t know!” she said, laughing. “She just showed up on my lanai, saying she wanted a hug and a glass of wine. Isn’t it the greatest surprise ever!”

I stayed with my Uncle the entire visit, and every visit thereafter, allowing her to keep her space as she liked it. We’d go to lunch, go to the zoo, go to the botanical garden, and sip coffee after my long bike rides. I had cracked the code. I had figured out how to visit my Nana, without stressing her out. Because she wasn’t stressed out, she didn’t get snippy or testy or nasty. On the occasion she drank too much alcohol, she mostly laughed a lot or talked about how much she loved us, rather than getting mean.

In the years that followed, I showed up at restaurants to surprise her, showed up at her boyfriend’s condo during a party, and walked into her place in the middle of the afternoon, wearing my swimsuit, to demand she come float on pool noodles with me. It wasn’t unusual for everyone in her social circle to know I was coming, except for her. After all, I had to plan to see them while I was down there, and I couldn’t do that if I didn’t tell them when I’d be in town! Everyone loved the joy she took out of my “just showing up” so much, though, that it was the general habit not to tell her.

The pandemic killed my ability to surprise her, because everything had to be so meticulously planned. Which is why, the last visit I made without my mother, I brought my wife as the surprise. My Uncle knew Lesia was coming with me, but my Nana did not. She was delighted, particularly since she’d picked up an obsession with puzzles and Lesia happens to be very good at them. We’d drive down in the evenings after work, have dinner with her, and Lesia and she would puzzle for a while as I scratched my head and glared at a singular piece with no intention of finding its home.

Of all of my visits, that very first surprise one will reign forever as my favorite one ever made. The look of delight on her face as I came into her living room demanding a hug, the sheer glee with which she told all of her neighbors, “This is my granddaughter. She came all the way from Ohio without telling me. She gave me herself as a surprise! Isn’t it wonderful!” was all the evidence one could ever need of just how much she loved me.

(Even if she didn’t want me sleeping under the same roof as her!)

Wheel Chairs at Zoos

In 2018, my Nana made the last trip to my parents’ house that she would make in her lifetime. It was a trip that was made largely on accident. A year or so prior, we had all decided my Nana needed to get the hell out of dodge before Irene hit, since it looked like that bitch was going to make a bee-line for Naples. Though her condo was generally unscathed, Irene did hit Naples harder than most hurricanes, flooding entire regions of the city and uprooting hundreds of trees. My Nana rode it out with her boyfriend, at his summer place in Maine.

My mother had booked the ticket and had borne the brunt of the airlines’ desire to make big bucks by gouging the shit out of every purchaser trying to get out of the region before the storm hit. They then got harshly reprimanded by the federal government for that bullshit, and found themselves gifting basically anyone who had paid more than they should have with a free plane ticket. My Nana used it to visit my parents. Who tucked her into a car for the two hour drive to Cleveland so that she could see her granddaughter’s house.

My Nana had lived independently for basically forever. She was divorced before it was acceptable to be such and while she remarried a couple times, I don’t know that she ever took any of them all that seriously. Because of the era, there were certain things she’d simply been unable to do. Like buy her own car. Or buy a house. Or have a fucking credit card. So to her, the fact that I owned my own car AND my own house was a remarkable feat signifying how far we had come since she was my age.

Humorously, she ended up visiting us the weekend that our basement flooded, which meant she got to see what the worst parts of homeownership are like. It also meant that simply hanging out at our house wasn’t really an option, since the fans in the basement were so loud it made it difficult to think. As we’d had a hunch we’d want to do something, anyway, we settled on the zoo. It was an idea that made my Nana nervous, as she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk the entire thing, but Lesia and I were unconcerned.

For $20 bucks, we rented a wheelchair, plopped my Nana in it, and promptly ran around the place like we were little kids pushing a shopping cart. We got running starts to go up hills, popped wheelies on stairs, and shrieked “weeeeeeee!” as we raced down ramps. My Nana was thoroughly delighted, my brother was both amused and embarrassed, and my mom was just happy her mom was smiling ear to ear the entire day. I think my father is now concerned this is how we’re going to treat him in his old age. He’s right to be concerned, we absolutely are.

Two years later, visiting her at her place during a global pandemic in which she had not left her condo in six months, I suggested that she, myself, and Lesia go to the local zoo. I had already looked it up, and we could rent a wheelchair for her so she wouldn’t have to worry about walking. There were a couple different animal shows we could see while we were there and everything. Wouldn’t it be nice to get out of the house for a bit?

“Are you going to say ‘weeeeee!’ when we go down the hills?” she asked, with a mischievous grin.

Indeed, we did.

Pink Wine Glasses

“It’s pink!”

Such was my squeal of delight when, after an exceptionally long workday, my Nana proffered a glass of white wine in a piece of stemware that was, indeed, pink. Though I’m weirdly neutral on pink clothing, I’m a huge fan of random things that shouldn’t be pink, being pink. Pink wine glasses are basically the most perfect wine glasses ever.

To that end, I was delighted when she said, “Oh good, you like them? Take them with you when you go home!”

Which I did. On my very last trip to my Nana’s condo, she packed up those pink wine glasses and made sure they made it into the car with me. I gave her a hug, and told her I loved her, and thanked her for my pink stemware. Two days later, before meeting her and some friends for dinner, my mother and I began the arduous task of packing a months worth of stuff and those wine glasses got lovingly wrapped in t-shirts, underwear, socks, and pajamas. All four made the journey home in one piece.

There isn’t really much of a story to tell here, except that the very last gift that my Nana personally gave me were pink wine glasses. Glasses that I will cherish forever. Glasses that I will use as often as I can, because every time I use them I think of her. Glasses that make everything you drink look just a little pinker. Just a little brighter. Just a little happier.

It was a fitting final present, I think, as my Nana often strove to make my life a little brighter and a little happier. Now, each time I sip her favorite drink, I can capture some of that lightness, courtesy of a gleefully pink piece of stemware.

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fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/a-gift-from-the-stork/

a gift from the stork

Hi friends! Happy Monday! I hope your week is off to a great start.

Guess what?! Baby August is here!

The weather on Friday was cloudy and cool; I told my mom it was the perfect day to have a baby, not really thinking it would be “the day” that August was born. I was SO excited when I got the text with a picture of him while we were out rock climbing with friends. Kyle and Meg were only at the hospital for two hours before he arrived! I spent the rest of the afternoon with the hugest smile on my face, knowing that he was finally here and that everyone was safe. I couldn’t wait to meet him (!) but I had promised the girls that we’d go to a festival at Liv’s school before hightailing it to the hospital.

We played games, got their faces painted, and enjoyed the festival for a couple of hours,

and then the Pilot took them home for bed while I picked up sushi and coffee for Kyle and Meg, and headed to the hospital.

The.best.ever.

It was so nice to hang out with Kyle and Meg for a bit, hear about the amazing birth story (Meg is a champion) and snuggle with August. He looks JUST like EJ, and is the sweetest little guy. I love him so much already and can’t wait to spend more time with him. The girls are going to go crazy for him! I headed home just in time to watch a little Queer Eye – I’ve been savoring the last episode for a few weeks, only watching 5 minutes here and there – and crash out.

Saturday morning, we were up bright and early, so we had breakfast together and headed to the dance studio. After dance, we got some more supplies for the backyard garden. The Pilot reseeded the grass while the girls and I planted flowers, along with a garden bed full of tomatoes, basil, cucumber, rosemary, carrots, zucchini, and mint. We’ll see what ends up surviving. 😉 I also took a 45-minute live DJ Peloton ride that was liiiiiiife.

Saturday night, madre came over to hang out with the girls for a bit while the Pilot and I went out for a little date.

We ordered drinks and an enormous cheese board + the famous goat cheese tart (if you ever go to Commoner, you have to get this tart)

and made a run to Target. It’s the ultimate parent date when a Target stop is included. 😉 It was so nice to get Easter basket supplies before everything was totally picked over. After Target, we made a stop at Cashew Cow for vegan ice cream and dropped some off to Kyle and Meg before making it back home in time to put the nuggets to bed.

Sunday morning, we slept in (YAS) and then went on a family walk in Sabino Canyon. It was absolutely perfect outside (in the 70s) and so many of the plants and cacti are blooming!

We spent about 40 minutes walking one of the shorter trails. The girls sprinted out and backs in between getting piggyback rides, and it felt so great to get some sunshine and fresh air.

After our nature outing, I took the crew to see The Missing Link while the Pilot got in some airline studying. I wish I could tell you it was a riveting, charming and enjoyable movie, but P fell asleep about 15 minutes into it, and it lost my attention around that point. I ended up reading a book on my phone the entire time. (No one was around us, so I turned the brightness way down and tucked my phone into my backpack to read.) It goes to show that Hugh Jackman can’t always save the day, but Liv loved it, so there ya go.

The Pilot took the girls on the weekly grocery run while I typed up most of this blog post + a couple of upcoming WebMD blog posts, and then we made giant chopped salads for dinner along with Instant Pot sweet potatoes.

(I love how Caro is smiling in this picture! The salad had romaine, spinach, grilled chicken, cucumber, red bell peppers, blackberries, blueberries, dates, Primal Kitchen ranch and was mixed up in a huge mixing bowl.)

This is one of my all-time favorite simple dinners, and the girls like picking their salad components. I took my salad with me to go since I was picking Nana up to be my date for the touring production of Fiddler On the Roof. Fiddler is one of those classic musicals that will always have a special place in my heart. I fell in love with musical theatre around when I saw the movie version for the first time, and it was one of the first shows we did in middle school. This production was especially wonderful and I love how the actor who played Tevye truly made the role his own. The dancing BLEW ME AWAY; it felt very traditional with little shoulder shakes and wrist movement, but had some modern elements in there, too. It was so, so good. The voices, the acting, the set, the costumes… everything.

This morning, I’m grabbing coffee with a friend, getting in an upper body workout (from the Lean Machine fit guide) and starting to work on Summer Shape Up! If you have any requests for this Shape Up, please let me know in the comments. 🙂

xoxo

Gina

Need a workout? Try this outdoor HIIT workout!

Last day to get 15% on the Beautycounter site! If it’s your first time ordering, you can check out my suggestions in this post, or send me an email (or drop a comment below) and I’d love to help.

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selenelavellan · 7 years

Note

MOAR PERSEPHONE MYTH DIRTHALENE PLZ

Underworld AU Part 2

Part One

Dirthamen, Turmoil, Mythal, and the other Evanuris belong to @feynites

Ashokara and Kassaran belong to @scurvgirl

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog

TW for Fire, Murder, Mentions of Children Dying and/or being injured.

There is no sunlight in the Underworld.

No birds sing in its sky, no rabbitsfrolic through its fields. She has never known a time without therays shining around her. The fields here are barren, made of dirt andmoss with rivers of magic and flame running through them. Nothinglike her Nanaes lands, with their towering trees and flourishingplants tall enough to hide those in need of protection. There is nofarmland that she can see, no sea of flowers to bloom with her laugh.

The air is heavy and cold, whipping at the bared skin of her leg whenit peeks from between the drape of her robe. The only warmth Selenecan find seems to be buried within the hand of the God helping herstep out of the boat, and onto the shores of his kingdom.

There is no sunlight, but there arestrings of luminescence throughout the streets. Hung like decorationsover homes and walkways. Brilliant blues and greens giving a softglow to the world around them, like pieces plucked and stolen fromthe world above. The buildings are simple, with tall columns forgedfrom stones unfamiliar to her eye. Streets converge into each other,each step placed with purpose. A path leading to what seems to be amassive, twisting labyrinth that stretches up and up and up in aninfinite loop.

It captivates her entirely.

“Come,” whispers the man besideher. “I will show you our home.”

Selene shivers as she tears her eyefrom the maze, and feels something whisper beneath her skin. Awarning, perhaps?Or a promise.

She has no time to dwell on herthoughts, as she is swept through the thoroughfare. Signs and facesilluminated in the dim lighting. Some point at the pair, or whisper.A few wave, and Selene finds herself oddly compelled to return thegesture with the hand not being tightly grasped with gloved fingers.

There are people, here.

Are they all dead, she wonders?

Shouldn’t there be more of them, ifthey are?

It seems no more crowded than the townnear her Nanaes home. Indeed, she has seen larger crowds at herbrothers unveiling in her youth.

Still, she is lead without hesitation over cobbled stones, until the homes and light vanish onceagain. Until she is standing in the shadow of a massive palace,covered in pomp and elaborate carvings. It is very old, older thananything she had seen in the town by centuries, at least. It towersfar higher than any other structure she has come by down here, savefor the labyrinth.

And it seems so very, glaringly,out of place.

She is about to ask him, to inquireabout the strangeness of the palace and the sharp contrast of itsfeatures to those of his own, someone whose entire wardrobe seemsdesigned to help him blend into backgrounds and shadows and moveunnoticed.

Someone else emerges, first.

“You are late,” they snap, stridingconfidently towards Dirthamen in a long coat and tall boots. “Wehave become backed up.”

“It can wait, Turmoil,” he returns.“We have a guest.”

They blink, eyes narrowing as they seemto notice Selene for the first time. Their gaze rakes over her,stopping as it reaches the hand still joined with their masters.

As they notice the rings.

“Are you kidding-” they groan,rubbing a hand down their eye. “We will deal with that later. Thedead will not wait.”

“Of course they will. It’s not asthough they have somewhere else to be.” Selene jokes, trying toease some of the tension in the air.

It doesn’t work.

The shoulders of the God beside herraise sheepishly as Turmoils jaw practically drops in shock.

“She does not even know how wework-” they hiss.

“She will learn,” he insists.

“If you expect me to teach her, youwill find yourself sorely disappointed. My plate is full enoughtrying to keep your head above water.”

“I was planning on teaching hermyself, in fact.”

“Oh, and in the meantime, we’ll just,what, let the dead run loose, all…” their arms shoot up and makea sharp spiral gesture “All willy-nilly,because our King is busy with his…his….” he gestures wildly andturns towards Selene “Whatever you are!”

“I’mjust visiting.” she tries to assure him.

“Ohgood! We are doing toursnow!”

“I’llshow her around!” chimes in a new voice. High, and young. Seleneturns toward the source, and finds a young Qunari girl with stillbudding horns grinning up at her.

“Thatis not necessary, Ashokara.” Dirthamen frowns.

“It’sfine! I’m all done with my chores, so you can go work and I’ll helpher get settled. You can always come find us later, right?”

Dirthamenglances back to Selene uncertainly, finger rubbing gingerly at thering on her finger as Turmoils foot taps impatiently behind him.

“Isuppose that would be best for everyone,” he finally says. “Pleasedo not allow her to come to any harm.”

“WouldI do that?” theyoung girl retorts with an innocent look on her face.

Dirthamenonly frowns deeper in response.

“We’llbe careful,” she agrees, arms looping behind her back. “Noswimming, I promise.”

Turmoilhurriedly pulls everyone into agreement, dragging Dirthamen into theovershadowing palace as they fill his arms with scrolls and beginwhatever sort of work they do.

Selenesupposes she will find out soon enough.

“Sooo…”Ashokaradrawls from beside her “You’re the new Queen, huh?”

Seleneblinks, as she refocuses on the child standing beside her. “I’msorry?”

Theyoung qunari points to the ring on her finger “You married theKing, that makes you the Queen.”

“Oh,”Selene says as she glances down at the piece of jewelry “We didn’tget married. He just gave me a gift, is all.”

“It’son the married finger, like my mama’s used to be.”

“Customscan vary from culture to culture. You’ll understand more when you’reolder.” Selene explains.

“I’malready 809. How old am I supposed to be?”

Seleneblinks.

Blinksagain.

“I’msorry. 809…what? Seasons?”

“No,years. How old are you, like a billion?”

“No!No, I’m-I’m 25!”

“Ohhhh.Sounds like maybe you’rethe one who doesn’t understand then, huh?” Ashokara hums knowinglyas she begins to skip away.

Selenestaggers after her, still curious for more answers.

Andalso determined to prove the girl wrong, just a bit. She certainlyisn’t married. Shewould know.

…Wouldn’tshe?

Whenthe sun rises over their fields, and Selene has still not been found,Melarue begins to rage.

Itstarts quietly. Small bursts in the shadows, a few buds pluckedbefore their time, a tree or two robbed of its harvest before bearingany fruit.

Aelynthihas not heard from his sister either. Nor has his husband, or histeam of warriors hunting for her in lands beyond their immediatereach.

No oneelse seems willing to help with their search. Elgar'nan and Mythalare too preoccupied with their own duties, and send only promises tohelp when they have the resources to spare. Andruil is busy huntingher wifes newest creation for the Summer feast, Sylaise and June withcleaning up the previous nights affair and planning the next gathering to beheld.

Seleneis not a priority, itseems.

Sothey will make her one.

Theforests housing Ghilan'nains prey begin to rot, and crumble. Leavesturn to gold and then to brown, falling long before they are due.Crops begin to mold, and expire. Acres of flowers, planted for theirdaughter, for her bloom, for her laugh,turn to cold barren plots of dirt and sand that will provide neitherlife nor sustenance now.

Thetrees no longer give reprieve from the blazing heat of the sun,forcing people into their homes, sending them to curse the God whoburns too intensely, who must not care for them any longer, who keepsthem in such a fatigued, drowsy state. The grass turns sour, ruiningthe milk of any cows or creature who taste it. Parents reliant on theproduct to feed their children, cry out, cursing the Goddess who issupposed to look out for their families, who is meant to aid themwith her heart and her wisdom.

As thepeople grow more anxious, more hungry, more in need of help, Melaruenotes, the other Gods begin to pay their concerns more attention.

Mythalknocks on their doors before the week is even out.

“Melarue,”they coo. “What seems to be ailing you?”

“Youknow well that my daughter has vanished. Do not play these games withme. I am tired of them, and the people will not survive them longenough for you to get your fill.”

Mythaltsks. “This is a tantrum then, because your daughter has chosen toleave you? You are not so weak as that, Melarue. She will come back,in time. Children simply need their space, to grow, and to learn.”

“Selenewould not leave me. I understand you may not grasp that a child maytruly love their parent, but she would not run like this. Not fromme.”

“Shewill come back when she is ready,” Mythal dismisses “There is noreason to punish the people for her mistakes.”

“Youhave done something. I know you, we have known each other far toolong for me to believe you are not behind this in some capacity.”

“Treadcarefully. Accusations like that sound suspiciously like treason, andyour rage is rising to the surface. We would not want another war.There is no need to exile another member of our pantheon.”

“Asthough you did not manipulate the state of things to fit the end youdesired, even then.” Melarue snarls, taking a step closer to theGoddess.

“Howdare you. Iloved my son, I never would have-”

“Youlove power more. Yourson was unstable, he was unable to care for his wards, and you wantedanothers domain because your own was weakening. I see through you,Mythal. I will not sacrifice a singlechild, and the world will remain barren until my daughter is safelyreturned to me.”

“Youwould not sacrifice the People. You are bluffing.”

Melarue raises a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Itwould be a shame, would it not? For the People to perish while theGoddess who claimed to protect them did nothing? I would hate foryour image to suffer because you thought my threats empty.”

Mythal hesitates.

Then turns, and walks out as calmly as she had entered.

Melaruewaits for her to leave entirely, before donning their cloak andsweeping into town.

Someoneknows where their daughter is.

“…andthat’s section twelve, and that’s fourteen over there…” Ashokaradrones on, pointing down different intersections while Selene nodsalong beside her.

“Everythingis so well organized here,” Selene notes. “It’s very efficient.”

“It’sboring, y'mean.”

“Ilike it.” Selene grins.

“Yeah,well. The people like it better now, too.”

Selenepauses, hesitates with her foot just barely off the ground. “‘Now’?”

“Yeah,sure. Since Dirthamen took over.”

“Hewasn’t always the God of the Dead?”

“Nah,he used to be wisdom and…I dunno, some other stuff I guess? I neverknew him then, he’s been here a lot longer than me. Some other peopleremember before, though. It was pretty bad, from what I hear. Hebuilt the labyrinth, and now that’s all anyone talks about. Or does.”

Seleneglances up, attention stolen once more by the swirling, growingpuzzle in the center of the city, and the hushed whispers pushinggoosebumps over her skin.

“So…itwasn’t always there?”

“Nope.”

“Whendid it show up?”

Ashokarashrugs “Before I did. You’d have to ask someone older.”

“Youwere never curious?”

“Ew,no.” Ashokaras nose crinkles. “It gives me really awfulcreep vibes, just from looking at it too long.”

“Oh,”Selene hums curiously. “You showed up…almost eight centuriesago, yeah?”

“Yeah….”

Herhead turns to look at Ash. The previously energetic girl suddenlyturned morose, staring down at her feet. With a gentle nudge, Seleneoffers a warm smile.

“Doyou wanna talk about it?”

“I’mnot really supposed to…”

“Well,I’m the Queen, right?” Selene grins “You can tell the Queen. I’llgive you a royal pardon if anyone tries to give you trouble.”

Ashokaraseyes narrow, and dart from side to side before she snags Seleneshand, and tugs her away from the buildings, and back towards theriver Styx. They take shelter at the foot of a large dune, and Ashokara settles carefully onto the ground.

“Youcan’t tell anyone, ok? Mama and I aren’t supposed to tell people whathappened.”

Selene nods, andsits down beside the girl on the shore.

“So…whenI was…still topside,” Ashokara explains “Father wasn’t verynice. He yelled a lot, and he hurt Mama. One night, he was screamingmore than usual, and he tried to reallyhurt Mama. She got hurt so bad she stopped breathing. I was little,but I knew what that meant, and it made me so mad,and scared, and I couldn’t understand why.Mama’s so nice, she didn’t deserve to get hurt like that.”Ashokaras gaze grows distant, as she skips a rock across the river.“I lost control of my magic. I wanted to make himhurt, too. I wanted to save Mama, but I didn’t know how. He and Iboth burned, until we were all…down here. It was really different,when we arrived.

Everythingwas really crowded. They were still recovering from some big fight,so there was rubble everywhere and bodies pressed up against eachother, and everyone was freaking out. Father was right next to me,still, and he was so angrywith me, once he realized what had happened.”

Ashokaralets out a stuttering breath, hands rubbing tenderly at the tips ofher horns. “But I looked around, tried to get away from him. Alittle ways away, I could see Mama in the crowd, and I tried to runto her but I….” Ashokara trails off, sniffling and wiping away afew tears from her face as she tries to calm herself down. Seleneplaces a soothing hand on the girls shoulder for support, andAshokara nods before continuing. “I tried to go to her, to makesure he couldn’t get to her again. To feel safe again, myself. But Icouldn’t get through the crowd, and when I tried to get aroundeveryone, I fell. Into Phlegethon.”

Sheflings another rock towards the river running parallel to the Styx,and Selene watches as it bounces off of a barrier. “ There weren’tany barriers to keep people out of the rivers, then. If you fell, youwere just…lost. Phlegethon is the River of Fire.It hurt. It hurt so much,I couldn’t stop screaming. I don’t even know how long I was in there.Everything just blurred together in what felt like an eternity oftorture. But then Dirthamen pulled me out.”

“That was verykind of him,” Selene says.

“I guess. He andMama made a deal. He was still trying to sort everything out downhere, and having people just popping up in the middle of town made ithard for him to work or something, so Mama agreed to work for him ifhe’d save me. Now she spends all her time ferrying people on thatstupid boat….”

“She loves you.”Selene whispers, a sharp pain of guilt in her chest as she thinks ofher Nanae, still in the world above. How much time has passed sinceshe’s been down here, she wonders. They must be so worried…

“Iknow,” Ashokara sighs, snapping Selene out of her reverie “I loveher too. I get to see her still, sometimes. And Dirthamen lets uslive in the palace, so I don’t feel so alone when Mama’s working. Butit’s got all these empty rooms, and there’s no one but me and allthese other people that work for him, and they’re alwaysworking, because people neverstop dying, and it’sjust…it’s lonely.”

“I’m sorry.”Selene offers, at a loss of what else she has to give.

“Yeah, well…”Ashokara sniffs. “Life happens. Or death, as it goes.”

“…Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Dead.”

Ashokara snorts.“Nah. When he pulled me out of the river, he fed me a piece foodfrom here. So I’m technically just a resident of the underworld, notone of the dead.”

“So the people intown aren’t dead?”

“No, they justlive here. Sort of. Mortality is weird in this realm. Like, you canchoose to die if you get approval, or you can get hurt or murdered ifyou piss someone off or something, but you can’t get sick and youdon’t age unless you want to.”

“So you choose tolook like a kid?” Selene teases.

“You would beamazed what people let you get away with when you look like this.”Ashokara grins.

Selene laughs, loudand light. The ground beneath her erupts into greenery, flowersblossoming at her feet, in a wide spectrum of colors. Ferns trailaround her, making patterns to match her timbre until she stops forbreath.

Ashokara stares ather in wonderment.

“Howdid you do that?”

Selene looks aroundat the new greens around her. “Oh, it just sort of happens,sometimes. I get it from my Nanae, but they can do it at will. I’mstill learning, so it tends to just sort of…” She gesturesvaguely “Sprout.”

“Nothing growshere, though. Nothing but lilies, and those still require almost awhole team devoted just to growing them!”

“….whoops?”

“Can you domore?”

“Perhaps later,”booms a deeper voice from the top of the hill behind them. “Selene,will you come with me, please?”

Selene swallows,looking guiltily up at Dirthamen as she brushes some sand and dirtfrom her robes and helps Ashokara to her feet.

Hopefully he won’tbe too upset about the plants.

#Answered #Underworld AU #Dirthalene #Filed under 'things i dreamt i had already written'#i really thought i had already written this because i had it all planned out and my notes done and????#nope i left everyone hanging MY BAD #heres some world stuff and hinting at other plot stuff and ~*mysterious pasts*~#(Probably not so mysterious Im not very creative and its probably easy to infer what happened)#theladypirate #Melarue #Ashokara #Selene lavellan #If Turmoil isnt right #(theyre probably not but i didnt have much to go on other than a note to myself to USE TURMOIL THEYRE CANON FOR DIRTHAMEN)#let me know and I will do better moving forward <3

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soccernetghana · 4 years

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Ghana Football: Where is the DNA that Gave Birth to the Talents of the Past ?- Part I

[caption id="attachment_24468" align="aligncenter" width="466"] The next generation of Ghana players want to emulate their 2009 double-winning colleagues[/caption] By Aristo Dotse Where are Ghana's natural football talents gone to? Where is the DNA that gave birth to the uncountable gifted talents that graciously graced Ghanaian football so rampantly in the past and brought so much success and pure happiness to our football? These are some of the telling observations and pertinent questions that have confronted Ghanaian football, especially the local game, for some good time now. It is indeed a curios matter to ask this interesting question of why Ghana no more get or bring up the brilliant football players it used to. It seems a bit ludicrous when you consider that there are currently quite a good number of Ghanaian players, most of whom form the core of the current Black Stars team, playing in Europe and elsewhere. Even, on quantity level, the number of current Ghanaian overseas players far outnumbers that of the supposedly good old days. However, only one, just one player Thomas Partey - a regular and a top player at Spanish giants Atletico Madrid - is a top Ghanaian name in Europe at the moment, although Jordan Ayew at Crystal Palace in England is also doing quite well. Thus, the quality of the recent and present generation of Ghanaian players, those of today and especially of the last ten to 15 years, particularly on the local front, leaves a lot to desire and is a serious matter opened to question and discussion. Again, where are our talents gone to? Where is the DNA that gave birth to countless of them over the years in the distant past? ''The quality of Ghanaian players of today and especially of the last ten to 15 years, particularly the local ones in particular, leaves a lot to desire and is a matter opened to question and discussion. Where is the DNA that gave birth to the countless gifted talents over the years in the distant past?'' Fantastic players all over Let's not even talk of the countless Ghanaian greats of the past starting from the likes of James Adjei, Charles Kumi Gyamfi (better known as C.K. Gyamfi), Baba Yara, Aggrey Fynn, Osei Kofi, Addo Odametey, Ofei Dodoo, John Eshun, Dodoo Ankrah, Malik Jabir, Robert Mensah, Wilberforce Mfum, Edward Acquah, Jones Attuquayefio, Ibrahim Sunday, Mohammed Ahmed 'Polo', Abdul Razak, Adolf Armah, Mama 'Acquah' Musah, Peter Lamptey, Robert Hammond, John Nketiah Yawson, Opoku Afriyie, Ofei Ansah, Awuley Quaye, John Baker, P.S.K Paha, Dan Owusu, Kwesi Owusu, Joe Dakota, Anas Seidu, Joe Odoi, James Kuuku Dadzie, John Bannerman, Windsor Kofi Abbrey, George Alhassan, Owusu Mensah, Hesse Odamtten, Haruna Yusif, Seth Ampadu, Samuel Opoku Nti, Kofi Badu, Albert Asase, Addae Kyenkyenhene, Joe Carr, Emmanuel Quarshie, Justice Moore, Francis Kumi, Sampson Lamptey, Abedi 'Pele' Ayew, Anthony Yeboah, and the other uncountable quality players always dotted in every team in the country. Those days are long gone when one happily went to the stadium or sat behind TV to watch the so many wonderful players like Papa Arko, Opoku Sampene (nicknamed Maradona), Isaac Nana Eshun, Kwesi Appiah, Sarfo Gyamfi, Emmanuel Akwetey (Joetex), Isaac Acquaye, Abdul Aziz (Rikichiman), Ben Kayode, Olabode William, Issah Alhassan, Philip Tagoe, Rauf Iddi, Henry Acquah, Abu Umar (better known as Abu Imoro), Salifu Ansah, Mohammed Odoom, Kwabena Asiedu, Emmanuel Quarshie (nicknamed Abega), Anane Kobo, Kwesi Bonsu, Geoge Lamptey,Joe Amoateng, Alhaji Bello, Isaac Ayipey, Sam Ayipey, Ibrahim Meriga, Ebo Smith, George Arthur, Santrofi Acquah, Emmanuel Sackey, Ayitey Dormon, Asare Boateng, Shamo Quaye, Joe Debrah, Anthony Osei Kwadwo Mensah, Ablade Kumah, Ezekiel Alamu, Bernard Aryee, Thomas Boakye, Thomas Quaye, Laud Oscar, Robert Eshun, Michael Osei, Isaac Kwakye, Robert Boateng, Stanley Aborah, Kelvin Essien, Ali Jarra, Frank Amankwah, Richard Naawu, Nii Darku Ankrah, Joe Addo, Frimpong Manso, Emmanuel Armah, Kalilu Dramani, Ali Ibrahim, Mahmoud Ahmed, Kofi Deblah, Adjetey Lee, Alex Nyarko, Sam Johnson, Yaw Acheampong, C.K. Akonnor, Augustine Ahinful, Nii Odartey Lamptey, Yaw Preko, Alex Opoku, Isaac Asare, Baba Musah, Emmanuel Duah, Daniel Addo, Mohammed Gargo, Sebastian Ebo Barnes, Samuel Osei Kuffour, Nii Aryee Welbeck, Joe Fameyeh, Christian Saba, Stephen Appiah, Awudu Isssaka, Abu Iddrissu, Prince Adu-Poku, Joe Okyere, Baba 'Armando' Adamu, Eben Hagan, Emmanuel Yartey, Sanni Wahab, Abdul Issah Rahman, George Blay, Michael Essien, Laryea Kingston, Godwin Attram, Stephen Tetteh, Eric Bekoe, and even Tawrick Jibril. This is painful truth and very sad. Proud landmarks for Ghanaian players Apart from Ghana being the first country to win the African Nations Cup three and then four times, and first African side to win an Olympic football medal and the FIFA U-20 World Cup, Ghana have seen some of its players made the country proud with some remarkable individual feats in African football. C.K. Gyamfi, one of the first topmost players in Ghana and coach in three of Ghana's four African Nations Cup titles to become the first of two coaches to win the competition three times, was the first African to play professional football in Germany. He signed for Fortuna Dusseldorf in 1960. When the famous 'France Football' magazine started to give the African Footballer of the Year award in 1970, Ibrahim Sunday, a talented midfielder who captained Kotoko to win the African Cup in 1971 and also coached them to victory in 1983, won the second edition in 1971 as the first Ghanaian to be crowned. Robert Mensah, seen by the older generation as Ghana's best ever goalkeeper, placed second to Sunday. Around the same time in 1972, defender John Eshun captained an African XI side for the Brazil Independence Cup, an invitational international tournament called 'Mini Copa' by the Brazilians to mark Brazil's 150th independence anniversary celebration. Together with Egypt, Ghana had the highest contingent of three players in the 18-man squad that also played in the Afro-Latin Games in Mexico. The other two Ghanaians were forwards Edward Acquah and Malik Jabir. That was a long time, a quarter of a century, before Abedi Ayew, the ‘Pele’ and maestro of African football, emulated Eshun and led Africa as captain and inspirer to beat Europe in a specially arranged friendly game as part of the European Union's Year Against Racism' observance in January 1997. He didn't only score the opening goal, a wonderful chip over great Dutch goalkeeper Edwin van der Sar, in the 2-1 victory at the famous Benfica Stadium of Light in Lisbon but also shone, as usual, with his brilliant all-action performance in Portugal. The former Ghana captain had earlier shone brighter, winning the UEFA man-of the-match award in his side Olympique Marseille's victory over AC Milan in the 1993 European Champions League final, to become the first African to achieve that feat. Cameroon's Samuel Eto'o emulated that achievement in 2006. And it was Abedi's second European Cup final, making him again the first African outfield player to feature twice in the final after Zimbabwean goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar (1984, 1985), before compatriot Samuel Osei Kuffour became the second and so far last Ghanaian to replicate it in 2001. Abedi Pele also won the first CAF African Footballer of the Year award in 1992 to help him become the first three-time winner of the African Player of the Year title the following year. And when the BBC began their African Player of the Year award in 1992, he was again the first winner, long before his son and current Ghana captain Andre ‘Dede’ Ayew succeeded Asamoah Gyan, winner in 2010, in 2011. Meanwhile, Gyan is proudly still Africa's all-time top scorer in FIFA World Cup history since 2014. It's a shame that since Abedi last won the African Footballer of the Year crown in 1993, no Ghanaian player has won it 27 years on. Only three players have been able to come close, Samuel Osei Kuffour (1999, 2001), Michael Essien (2007) and Gyan (2010) being unlucky as runner-ups - same feats by Adolf Armah and Opoku Nti in 1979 and 1983 respectively. Essien was also third in 2008 as was Andre Ayew in 2011. Another proud moment for Ghana was the Black Stars' 3-3 draw with Alfredo Di Stefano and Ferenc Puska's Real Madrid in August 1962. That was the great Madrid team that won the first five European Cups, from 1956 to 1960, but Ghana was a real match for them at the Accra Stadium. The same venue also witnessed another memorable moment in 1969 when Accra Hearts of Oak held Pele's Santos of Brazil to a 2-2 draw in a friendly game. With Pele, the best player in the world at the time and still widely regarded today as the greatest ever, Santos - who were regarded the world's best team in the 1960s - were Brazilian champions for five consecutive years (1961-1965) and 1968, South American and world (inter-continental) champions in 1962 and 1963, and inter-continental super champions in 1968. But they could not beat Hearts on their African tour in a match the Ghanaian giants would have won if not because of a perfect third goal disallowed. Golden era It is true that within the last 14 years Ghana have played in three consecutive FIFA World Cups, between 2006 and 2014, after the Black Stars failed to qualify for even once during the preceding eras when Ghana was supposed to have all the great players in its history. During this somehow golden era of the 2000s when Ghana made lots of headway in world football, the players of this good time for Ghanaian football at international level are truly some of the finest players in the country's football history. Thus, names such as Stephen Appiah, Asamoah, Gyan, Michael Essien, Sulley Muntari, John Mensah, John Paintsil, Richard Kingson, and Andre Ayew and to an extent Mathew Amoah, Kwadwo Asamoah, Kevin-Prince Boateng and Anthony Annan will always be mentioned as some of the great players in the annals of Ghanaian football mostly for their World Cup exploits. To be continued........................................ source: https://ghanasoccernet.com/

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europe4kidstours · 4 years

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Why a Christmas in Rome could be the best gift you ever give your kids

Wouldn’t it be incredible to spend your Christmas break in a city celebrating this beautiful season like no other?

From it’s colorful Christmas markets to the amazing light displays illuminating its ancient monuments, Rome is definitely one of the greatest cities in Europe to get those happy jingle feels going. There’s just something in the air that makes the whole city light up merry and bright. If you are still not convinced, we are here to give you 6 good reasons why Rome is the perfect Christmas destination.

1. GO CHRISTMAS SHOPPING IN ONE OF THE MANY ROMAN MARKETS

The only thing you should be truly worried about when traveling to Rome with your family over the Christmas holidays is how much not to pack in order to leave enough space for all the things that you have bought over in Italy to fit into your luggage. Trust us, you won’t find such unique gifts anywhere else in the world like at a Roman market! The most famous is the every-day market in Piazza Navona, which morphs into a Christmas bazaar at the beginning of December until the 6th of January. Here you will find toys, roasted chestnuts, original handmade crafts, and many other things on sale that make for the perfect gift for a friend or family member.

2. GET BLOWN AWAY BY A CHRISTMAS CONCERT AT THE AUDITORIUM DELLA CONCILIAZIONE

Who does not enjoy listening to classic carols during the Christmas season? Lightening your night with a little jingle might just be the perfect idea to keep all the members of your family – even the little ones – engaged and happy! The Auditorium in Rome offers a fantastic selection of Christmas songs from a variety of performers throughout the holidays. Musical groups and performers from all over the world have been carefully selected to entertain you and your little ones with top-notch a-cappella, instrumentals, and dance performances! Are you ready to be blown away?

3. ADMIRE THE CHRISTMAS LIGHT DISPLAYS THAT ILLUMINATE ROME’S ANCIENT STREETS.

As you stroll through the ancient city center you will notice that the majority of the main roads are beautifully adorned with special Christmas lights. Of course, there are various cities around the world that could, arguably, be considered as contenders because of their incredible light displays. There is, however, something special about the ones you will find in Rome. There is an unrivaled charm in the contrast between the thousand-year-old monuments and architectural wonders lining the streets and the modernity of the colorful light designs that illuminate your path.

4. RECEIVE THE TRADITIONAL BLESSING “URBI ET ORBI” (“TO THE CITY OF ROME AND TO THE WHOLE WORLD”) BY THE POPE HIMSELF!

Rome is the only city in the world that houses the grounds of the Vatican and, with it the Pope himself. This means that Rome is the only place on the planet where you can receive a Christmas blessing directly from the Pope himself at the enormous mass celebrations that occur over the Christmas period! Christmas is one of the best times of the year to be with your family and the people you love most, but this festivity also has significant religious meaning to many people.

Whether you are Christian or not, being present at and living such a touching experience is something that you and your little ones will never forget!

Insider tip: If you want to participate in the special mass on Christmas Eve in St. Peter square than you must book your ticket on the Vatican website ahead of time!

5. FILL YOUR BELLY WITH DELICIOUS ITALIAN DELICACIES FEAST ON CHRISTMAS DAY

The famous Italian saying goes, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”. So, Romans eat a huge family lunch on Christmas Day. Nana cooks way too much and the kids and grandkids gobble it all up without a moment’s hesitation. Unfortunately, not everyone has a big Italian family that loves cooking, but don’t worry, plenty of restaurants will be open, serving delicious dishes of traditional Christmas meals, such as abbacchio, lamb cooked with garlic and rosemary, possibly small pieces of ham, accompanied by potatoes or other hearty vegetables, and desserts!

Insider tip: Something could be even more exciting if you and your children cooked your own Christmas meal over the Christmas holidays! If this sounds interesting then check out these cooking classes in Rome that run all year round.

6. ENJOY THE ORNATE NATIVITY SCENES CREATED BY ROMAN CHURCHES

Nativity scenes that are set up at Christmas tend to be small and are laid out upon a table in one’s home. Over the years people buy craft and exchange figurines with other families. It has become a communal tradition that brings families closer in such an exciting time! The first-ever Nativity was set into motion by St. Francis of Assisi in 1223 AD in a cave in Greccio, a small Italian village, with two live animals—a donkey and ox. How cool is that? Most Italian cities recreate the Nativity scene in their main square, but Rome takes this tradition to a completely different level. Churches all around the city create incredible scenes of all different sizes and styles. The Nativity at Basilica of Santa Maria in Aracoeli even features life-size figures singing hymns.

In conclusion, Rome should be your go-to family destination over Christmas! There is so much to do in this magnificent city, especially during this festive time. If you’re looking to learn more about this incredible city and what it takes to maximize your time there, check out this blog post, featuring the things you should avoid while traveling with children in Rome!

The post Why a Christmas in Rome could be the best gift you ever give your kids appeared first on Europe for Kids Tours.

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