#see i love my granddad to death but he wouldn’t be interested in going and i don’t want to bring him anyway because he’s a nightmare

[fingertipsmp3]

Should I go to my graduation or not. Seriously

[kidflashimpulse]

I have a question: Do you know if the series explains why Dr Dorado did not take his family to the United States? I am aware (as an Argentinian) that Eduardo and his father are a bit stereotyped but the choice for Mr. Dorado to leave his family in Argentina is a bit strange. Because otherwise, the only explanation I see is that his job was considered dangerous, so he decided to leave his family to prevent them from being hurt. (Sorry for coming straight to you with this question but I have a hyper fixation on Edu and you are the one I see the most in his tags 😅)

no worries i’m happy to answer edus my boy i love talking about him :D (lmfao my bad for practically spamming his tags 😭)

i like ur explanation ! i can see that being a reasoning, i mean we know that STAR labs is always involved in all sorts of stuff so …

the show has never given any particular reasoning for why Sr left his son with either his (or his wife’s) father (i.e Eds granddad). All we know is that Sr studied Zeta-beam tech for two decades and at some point moved to the US.

i don’t have one explanation set in stone, but here r some possible reasons he could’ve just went himself without his son (they’re not necessarily the most logical, just possibilities): either he felt like he didn’t want to remove his son from a place that he knows as home and had enough trust in the granddad being able to take care of him in the mean time. Considering Ed was young when his dad left, sometimes parents feel like they don’t want to remove them from an environment they feel comfortable with.

or if they would’ve moved, he’d either have to take the grandfather with them or possibly just leave him alone, which he maybe didn’t want to do and felt better leaving Edu behind with him too to give him company (doesn’t make it right but again parents can think like this sometimes). Also he might’ve thought sending money back to them might’ve been more fruitful than having the full family with him. Old people can feel very strongly about not wanting to leave their home behind.

Sometimes also with ppl who leave the country they don’t necessarily plan on just staying there, they return back (in this case to Argentina) frequently. And with the zeta tubes maybe this was something easy for Sr to do at first, but i can see this becoming less and less through the years (just something that i feel like can naturally happen especially with someone so consumed by his work like Ed Sr) and Ed grows more angry and pissed at his dad for being there less and less and that’s what prompts him to say fuck it and runaway to go to his dad.

Also we know that Eds mom is not in the picture (for unknown reasons, either leaving the family or because of death) so maybe Sr didn’t want to be around the place and people that might remind him of her as much and distance himself.

But I see this as unlikely cause despite all his shortcomings, Sr is shown to care very much about his son. I feel like a likely reasoning would’ve been something that started with good intentions but then through the years just didn’t work out as well as he hoped, prompting Ed to run away from home.

i also think something worth considering is he maybe felt the granddad would be able to take better care of Eduardo than him, because he knows how much work takes up his life and he wouldn’t want to be an absent father to a son who’s then alone most of the time in a new place and new environment. He might’ve reasoned to himself that it would’ve been better for Ed to stay home with his granddad who would be there when he needs him. And he would then try to visit when he can.

the logical thing would’ve been to take his family with him, but people often try to make things work out despite it not necessarily being the easiest or best solution.

so no the series doesn’t say anything about it, but i would sure be interested to know what reasoning they have :) thanks for the ask <3

[stewardofningishzida]

In Memoriam: V.H.

TRIGGER WARNING: Death (cancer), verbal/emotional abuse, and depression.

V.H. was my grandfather. We knew each other and were very close. He lived within a quarter mile from our old house and we would see each other almost every day. On the weekends, we would sometimes walk to a convenience store on the corner together and just chat. He’d buy me some Red Vines or a York Peppermint Patty while he got a pack of cigarettes. Unfortunately, he smoked a lot (had been doing it since he was a teenager) and was trying to quit, but it was very difficult for him. Also, he had a rather complicated relationship with my grandma. They loved each other in their own weird way, but would fight every day. You could hear the angry shouting even from outside.

My grandma tended to get more of little me’s attention because she’d act nice and distract me with tv. (This was before I learned that she was verbally and emotionally abusive towards my mother and grandfather. I was a little kid and didn’t know better.) My grandfather seemed a bit more serious at times and wanted to talk more. However, he had a good sense of humor and would joke around too. I wasn’t much of a chatty kid. So, I’d pop in to say hi and walk with him, but would often just watch tv.

Granddad was also a good cook, especially with barbecue. My grandma would call microwaved vegetables from a can and a fried egg with toast “fancy stuff”. No joke. She hates cooking. So, every holiday, he would make something nice for us. He wouldn’t eat much himself because he was diabetic and asthmatic as a result of the smoking. So, he had a strategy to control his type 2 diabetes with a specific diet and eating schedule, plus an inhaler. Unfortunately, the smoking addiction would add more problems.

The first time he got sick was when I was 10. Small cell lung cancer. He went through the chemo and radiation treatments while still trying to stop smoking. He lost a lot of weight and his temper would occasionally flare because of the nicotine withdrawal. So, the arguments between him and my grandma got worse. His tumor eventually shrunk and he went into remission. However, he was never really the same. His stamina was pretty much nonexistent and he needed a bit more help doing things.

We adjusted to help accommodate him and life moved on. I got more busy when I got into that college prep high school, but still visited both him and my grandma on the weekends. Though now I was listening to him a bit more and got to hear some of his old records, developing a taste for Blues, Jazz, African American Spirituals, and R&B. Unfortunately, during my junior year of high school, he got sick again. The cancer had metastasized to his liver and was rapidly growing. He went back on the chemo and radiation, but the cancer was far more aggressive this time.

We were still hopeful that he might survive because he managed to get through it last time. Also, we all did our parts to try to help. My mom would make special food for him that would help him gain weight back without messing with his blood sugar too much. My dad would help him do things. Grandma would take him to the doctor whenever he needed it. I would check to make sure he was hydrated and took his medicine at the right times and in the right amounts. He kept getting worse…

Eventually, he didn’t have any appetite and could barely keep anything down. My mom got frustrated. He decided that he wanted care at home. So, the nurses would come to us instead of him coming to them. We were there as often as we could and I would help the nurses since I already had an interest in medicine. They were nice enough to let me. Plus, at this time, I was 16. A minor, sure, but old enough to have an idea of what was going on. We still kept trying to get him through this. In denial about what was about to happen.

New Year’s came and he wanted us to stay with him. At this point, he could no longer speak and would write on a small whiteboard. I did my best to carefully give him water and medicine, following whatever the nurses told me to do. It got late and I was exhausted. So, I fell asleep next to him and my parents after a while, letting the nurses do their thing. A few hours later, I was woken up by an awful, gurgling, rattling noise and my grandfather’s ventilator. Then…Silence.

I got up and checked on my granddad…He was gone. I felt it like a punch in the gut, walking over in a daze to his side. I gently caressed his head and tried to talk to him. My parents noticed I was up and saw what happened. “I guess you’re not coming back from this, are you, Granddad?”, I sobbed quietly. I didn’t want to leave, but my parents gently pulled me away so the nurses could take the body away. I went numb. He was only in his 60’s when he passed. I was 16.

The funeral was a few days later. I couldn’t cry. Numb. My mother sobbed next to me and my dad comforted us both. All I could do was gently rub Mom’s back silently. I couldn’t talk, cry, or anything more. All the while, a horrible voice in my head began to whisper: “This is your fault. If you had taken away his cigarettes or treated him better, he would still be alive.” Somehow, I began to blame myself for his death. I was the last family member taking care of him. So, somehow, I messed this up, right? He was dead because of me, that horrible voice insisted. I felt like a murderer. Like I didn’t deserve to be around anymore.

Shortly after the funeral, we lost the house and one of my aunts, only adding to the grief. Then, my grandma turned on us despite begrudgingly taking us in. My first taste of the abuse that she issued towards my mother. I no longer cared whether I lived or died. However, I didn’t want to hurt my family even more. So, instead, I just buried myself in my classwork, volunteering, and projects. I barely ate or slept. Whenever I did sleep, I had nightmares of the sound of the ventilator and my grandfather’s death rattle. I managed to get accepted into college. Though I was now much thinner and had permanent dark circles under my eyes. I also had my first gray hairs.

I kept working and working and working. Nothing more. My parents got worried about me and feared that I would work myself to death. I didn’t care. They made me go out with my old friends in an effort to get my mind occupied with other stuff. I hadn’t gone out in a couple of years. So, when my friends saw me, they were shocked. One of them took me aside and said that I looked dead. Like a walking corpse. He snapped me out of it with how concerned and shocked he was at my appearance. I realized that I needed to take better care of myself. Though I still blamed myself for what happened. My friends all disagreed with me and we talked for a very long time. I felt a bit better. Though I privately still didn’t really believe them.

I made an effort to take better care of myself in an attempt to recover because there were multiple people who seemed to still care about me. My parents counted, of course, but I felt more like a burden to them than anything. Having friends talk to me about it helped considerably. Eventually, I came across a paper during my studies about small cell lung cancer…Apparently, the 5-year survival rate is 7%. It’s a very aggressive cancer which kills the vast majority of patients. I then realized that no matter how much I did (even to my unrealistically high standards), he was going to die. It wasn’t caught in time to help. In a weird way, it helped and I realized that it wasn’t my fault. With that, I slowly began to recover. Years later, I’m finally doing better. Though that experience will stay with me forever.

I still have his old music records, my commitment to biomedical science, and a determination to do research on immuno-oncology to find a way to give people like him a better chance of survival and maybe a healthier life/recovery. He’s in my thoughts every day and I make an effort to become the best researcher that I can possibly be because of him. I love you, Granddad. I hope to make you proud and save some people like you one day.

[emerywrites]

Fanfic: “Please don’t make a fuss”

So, I recently got back into Harry Potter and reread all of the books. Percy Weasley is one of my favorite characters and since its his birthday I wrote a fic. I hope that people enjoy it. :) 

 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy hated anyone making a fuss about his birthday. For twenty years he got away with passing it by with little acknowledgement. One year his daughters decide to change that.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: survivors guilt, PTSD

Percy always did his best to ignore his birthday. During the time that he had been estranged from his family, he had seen little reason to make a fuss about his birthday and the habit had stuck with him. Soon after he and Oliver had reignited their relationship, he told him that he didn’t want any birthday celebrations. Oliver had respected that other than a small gift and a “Happy birthday, love” the morning of August 22nd every year.

When Molly and Lucy were old enough to understand birthdays, things had changed, of course. They insisted on making homemade cards and having a cake. Percy allowed it and ate a small piece of cake as he admired their artistic efforts.

He remembered some particularly interesting cards on his birthday after they’d turned five. “That’s you, Daddy, and that’s me and that’s a dragon!” Molly had explained as she pointed to barely discernable shapes she had drawn in crayon.

“Oh, a dragon, how unique, dear,” he said to his daughter before leaning over to mutter to Oliver, “She’s been spending too much time with Charlie.”

Lucy showed him her own art of their family playing quidditch and Percy had been just as encouraging. It was easy to enjoy a birthday with small children who were an easy distraction. When they were young, he could allow his birthday to be more about them than himself.

But as they got older, that changed. His daughters wanted to get him gifts with their pocket money. They asked why they had birthday celebrations at the Burrow for everyone else in the family and why they went to see Papa’s family on his birthday, but never did any of that for Daddy. It was difficult to explain the complicated emotions that went along with Percy’s desire to not think about his birthday. So, he never did. He only ever said that all he wanted for his birthday was peace and quiet with his husband and daughters.

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

Molly and Lucy were fifteen and August 22nd had come around yet again. They successfully avoided mentioning his birthday other than a kiss on his cheek that morning with a “Happy birthday, Dad”. The rest of the day was spent in Diagon Alley getting their school supplies and of course a special gift for Molly for being made prefect and Lucy for being made captain of the quidditch team. Percy was more than happy to make their successes the focus of the day.

After they got home, Molly ran upstairs to try on her new robes with her prefect’s badge. Moments later she came running back down. “I can’t find my badge!” Percy promised her that they would look until they found it.

Then Lucy piped up with, “I think you left it at the Burrow yesterday, when we went to show Grandmum and Granddad.”

Molly gasped. “You’re right! We have to go get it, right now.”

“Alright,” Percy agreed. “Ollie, you take Molly to get the badge. Lu and I can get started on dinner.”

“Dad, you know how Gran is, she’ll be disappointed if we don’t stay for dinner,” Molly told him. “We should all go.”

That was when Percy got suspicious. But he didn’t want to act paranoid and relented into going along. He side-long apparated with Lucy and Oliver with Molly. When they showed up outside of the Burrow, Percy immediately knew something was wrong. None of his nieces or nephews were outside running around. Usually there were at least a couple of them always underfoot no matter where you went around the Burrow.

He got a bad feeling that he knew what was about to happen. “Ollie, I’m not feeling too well. The three of you can stay. I’ll just go back…” But the three of them were already going up to the door. Percy followed, feeling his stomach twist into a knot as he desperately hoped that he was wrong in his prediction.

They entered the Burrow, just for the entire family to shout, “Surprise!” Every one of his siblings and their families were there, crammed inside his childhood home. It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, there for him. Percy’s first instinct was to bolt and he would have if it had not been for him backing straight into his husband’s strong chest. He swallowed hard and plastered on a grin.

Percy kindly thanked them for such an amazing surprise. Everyone explained how it had all been Molly and Lucy planning the whole thing. Oliver hadn’t even known about it as the girls knew that he could never keep a secret from Percy.

Percy told himself, he would just get through the evening. He could do it. He’d often enough kept up a façade for politicians and department heads that he had to socialize with. He’d managed to trick Death Eaters into thinking that he wasn’t a threat to their take over of the ministry. It should be easy to pretend to his family that he was happy on his birthday.

They all sat outside at tables magically extended to their limit to hold the, what seemed to be, ever-growing number of Weasleys. Percy sat next to Oliver who was holding an enthusiastic conversation about quidditch with Ginny. His daughters were a bit further down the table talking animatedly with their cousins. He caught a few words of Molly bragging about her new status as prefect in the up-coming school year. Percy tried not to think about his twin brothers’ teasing about “perfect prefect Percy” and how he kind of wished he could reminisce with Fred and George about it. And, now he was thinking about Fred…

Percy hadn’t even noticed that his mother had gone inside. Then she was suddenly coming back out into the garden, floating a towering chocolate cake that had his name in icing. Freddie and Roxanne’s set of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes patented fireworks flashed and screamed through the sky. Percy thought he was going to throw up. He flinched and saw flashes of the walls of Hogwarts castle coming down… Fred’s lifeless eyes…

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. Everyone’s attention turned to him. Smiles faded from their faces when they saw the panicked expression he wore. “I have to go,” he said shakily.

He ran inside, knowing that there was no way he was steady enough to apparate. The intention was to take the floo home but the powder was not on the mantle where it usually was. He was about to try and summon it when Oliver came running in.

“Percy! Percy, what happened out there?” Oliver’s voice was so concerned and that just made Percy feel worse for making a scene.

“I can’t do this, Ollie,” he said hoarsely. There was a lump of emotion in his throat that made it difficult to get his words out. “I can’t be here.”

“Why not, love? I know you don’t like people to make a fuss about your birthday but the girls really wanted to do something special. They wanted to give you a proper birthday.”

“And they are lovely for wanting to do that. But you don’t understand!” How did he explain it? How could he, when saying it out loud would hurt more than anything?

Then Oliver was much closer. He put his hands on either side of Percy’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Percy didn’t even realize he had shed. “Love, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

Percy gently took his wrists and pushed the hands away. “I hate my birthday,” he said slowly. “After… after I left, I stopped caring about my birthday. I had my work and it just felt like another distraction.”

Oliver nodded. “So, you’re out of practice in celebrating. We can fix that. We’ll just start a bit smaller next time.” He laughed as if it was that easy.

“That’s not it!” he snapped. He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be but no one understood and they wouldn’t until he got it out. He couldn’t help but look away toward the fireplace. The words that sat on the tip of his tongue weren’t supposed to be out there. They were meant to stay there in his heart, slowly eating him alive. At least there, they couldn’t damage anyone else. “My birthday is just a reminder, Ollie! It’s a reminder that I get another year, year after year! I get to grow old and Fred doesn’t! It’s a reminder to my family that the wrong son survived! I can pretend… I can pretend that I’m okay if I just don’t let anyone make a fuss about celebrating. It feels wrong to make them celebrate it.”

Percy finally allowed himself to look at Oliver. His husband was staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say, but was struggling to find the words. But just past Oliver, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, was his father looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

“Is that what you really believe?” Arthur asked as he approached. “That we think the wrong son survived?”

Percy really wished he had just pushed through and gotten to the end of the dinner. He should have found a way to keep the smile on his face and his bum in his chair. Now, he was hurting his father all over again. “No!” he tried to lie. “I…it’s…” Both his father and his husband looked at him with pity and that was humiliating. There was no point in lying when they could see through him like a ghost. “Yes, that’s… that’s always what I believed. How could I not? It felt like the cost of me returning to the family was Fred’s life. Like it was some sort of horrible exchange. And you lost, someone as well-loved as Fred to get me… the broken one who came back too late.”

“None of us have ever thought that,” Arthur said with an adamant shake of his head. “Losing Fred was a tragedy. That loss is always going to be there. But I also got a son back that day, Percy. And I apologize, that we obviously didn’t do enough to make you feel fully welcomed back and that you thought we wouldn’t want to celebrate having you.”

“Dad, you don’t need to-” But then his dad was hugging him. It was strange. He tried to remember the last time his dad had hugged him like that. It had been a while.

When he was eventually released, he realized that Oliver had slipped out of the room. His dad looked at him and cleared his throat. “If you need to go home, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well. But I think everyone would really love for you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” he said softly as he adjusted his glasses. “Molly and Lucy did put a lot of work into this.”

The reassurance had been needed but the fear of being unwanted still sat like a heavy stone on his chest. But then he followed his dad back outside to the garden. Everyone turned to look at him and in overlapping voices said how happy they were he came back out. George came out of nowhere to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I told the little troublemakers to cool it with the fireworks,” George whispered into his ear. “They can set me off too sometimes.”

Then George was pulling him over to the cake, sitting on the table. The candles had been placed and were alight. A spell had been used to keep the wax from melting onto the icing. Molly and Lucy ran up beside him.

“Make a wish, Dad!” Lucy encouraged.

Percy let his eyes fall shut for a moment as he made his wish. Then he opened them again and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went to serve the cake.

The overwhelming love he felt in that moment was almost too much. It had soothed his fear to the point that it had gone dormant. It would come back but he had a feeling its potency had been dulled.

“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asked softly.

“For every birthday to be as amazing as this one,” he replied.

[ryoskuna]

⭑ teacher’s pet | prelude (reader-insert version)

pairing: sukuna x fem!reader/original character, platonic!yuji x reader.

genre: older itadori brother/tattoo artist!sukuna au. baby/kindergartener! yuji.  parenting!au, some domestic fluff (later on), other things will be added as they come up.

warnings:  possible grammar errors, drama, mentions of insecurity, mentions of death (via yuji, and extension, sukuna’s grandfather), tattoos, mentions of food, mentions of abandonment, motorcycles, parenting, additional stuff will be tagged as it comes up, sukuna’s sometimes a bit ooc (i guess??? feel free to tell me if he is).

additional notes: sukuna looks like a mixture of his original form, and has the extended height from his original form in this (so he is a large, muscular man/a damn beefcake) and yuji as a teen with the naturally pink hair and brown sides. if i could draw him, i would. also, i tried to be as gender neutral as possible, but this will may become more feminine leaning, but i’ll try my best to keep the reader version gender neutral. 

word count: 3.1k

here’s the original character version if you’re interested.

⭑

summary: sukuna is yuji itadori’s older brother, and a tattoo artist. but nothing takes more priority than his baby brother, even if he isn’t good at showing it.  when yuji falls head over heels for his kindergarten teacher, sukuna soon learns exactly why the six year old likes her.

⭑

additional aesthetics/materials to go with:

spotify playlists: ( x, thank you @gillinanarts ) and this is like a soundtrack ( x ). sukuna specific playlist ( x ).

“Tch,”  Sukuna scratched at the nape of his neck as he went to tug at the door.  “I got it, old man!”  His lips were pulling into a sneer at the thought of some kid playing ding-dong-ditch.  However, if it weren’t for the muffled noise of a small animal, he wouldn’t have looked down at the car seat at his feet. He was tempted to nudge it with the toe of his left foot but then decided against it.  Maybe that wasn’t an animal. After all, usually… humans were in car seats, right?  He squats down towards the carrier, and pinches the blanket between his index finger and thumb, only to see a chubby, red-faced baby, his fists chunky and rubbing at his face.  It takes two blinks and a skip of his heartbeat to finally make sense of the note attached on the top of the carrier before Sukuna ever moves to wipe a tear from the baby’s face.  “Yuji, huh?” He murmured as the baby made a noise before proceeding to try and grab one of Sukuna’s oversized fingers.  Yuji mutters something in baby garble, even sort of glares at it — if a baby could glare, that is — and tugs on it. 

“You got a good grip there, brat,” Sukuna chuckled as Yuji grips his finger and tries to pull it into his mouth, only for the older brother to curl his finger down, stretching back to pick the carrier up and bring it inside, nudging the door closed with his foot.  He may be eighteen, but he’s not stupid.  He hadn’t seen his mother or father in thirteen years, but they still had the nerve to leave their second kid on the doorstep — as if they were telling his grandfather, “You did so well with the first one, here, raise our second one too!” 

Another snort left him as he rolled his eyes. His grandfather had done his best — but it didn’t stop the two trips to juvie, and all the countless times he had gotten detention, or a letter was written to his grandfather about his behavior that he had either forged a signature on or tossed in the trash. Sukuna’s pride and the subsequent need to handle everything himself were among his many weapons of choice. Much like his hands, or his knuckles, or his boots.

Sukuna sits the carrier on the dining table, unbuckles the baby, and picks him up into his arms, holding him against his chest. Yuji makes an “mmph” noise and shoves his whole hand in his mouth, chewing on his fist.  His other fist takes an opportunity to quickly curl itself into Sukuna’s black t-shirt, holding for dear life.  “Did mom and dad leave you?” Sukuna asks, watching Yuji look up at him and open his mouth before going back to suck on his fist. “Wait till the old man sees you,” he adds, his lips curling in a little smile.  Yuji twists his lips into a toothless smile, but Sukuna can’t help but think it’s more so at the small fart he’s let out instead of listening to his older brother’s words.  The older brother can’t resist the smile that forms on his lips. Yuji is all of a few months old, and he’s a little shit.  But something in his heart is warm and full at watching him look around in Sukuna’s arms, occasionally moving to slap his wet, spit covered hand on either Sukuna’s face or over his mouth. 

Sukuna barely notices he’s pulled at the cord that twists open the blinds. He can hear the hum from the lights in his grandfather’s room, glances to the older man in the bed and then back to the bushes outside, and how someone neatly takes the time to blow cut leaves into a pile, as if it matters. He stopped paying attention to the deafening silence between his grandfather after the first time the man has said, “Make sure you take care of Yuji.”  

As if Sukuna would do anything else when it came to his younger brother. Taking care of Yuji is all he’s ever done, at least for the past six years. When it came to Yuji, it was like the heavens had given him a second chance, another attempt to make something decent of himself instead of picking locks and picking fights. 

It’s not like he had a choice when a baby shows up on his doorstep (well, his grandfather’s doorstep), with a note attached reading: His name is Yuji Itadori. He’s Sukuna’s brother.  Look after him.   It didn’t take a genius to know that considering his grandfather didn’t have any secret love children — that the baby belonged to one, if not both, his parents (indeed his father). And was another grandson, another mouth to feed and be left in the care of Wasuke Itadori.  But now, Wasuke Itadori was dying — and his second grandson, Yuji, would be left in the care of his eldest, Sukuna. 

It was either that or the foster system, and if Wasuke hadn’t thrown Sukuna into the foster system, especially with all the hell he raised, Sukuna wouldn’t do the same to his innocent younger brother. Plus, it was one of the man’s dying wishes to his grandson, so that the least Sukuna could do was try and follow through.  “Not like I can do anything else.”

His broad shoulders fill the window space, and he glances over his shoulder to see the old man fast asleep, so he reaches for his jacket on the back of the chair and tugs it on, picking up his helmet and gently sliding the door shut behind him.  He stops his grandfather’s usual nurse, murmurs that he’ll be back later in the afternoon, and thanks her for taking care of the grumpy elderly man.  He picks up on a nurse laughing at a joke coming from a child’s voice, and he sees Yuji, ever the charmer, leaning on his tiptoes to talk to a nurse who is leaning over the counter and conning his way for another lollipop at the same time. 

The nurses surrounding the station look up at the man walking towards the station, his vermillion eyes fixated on his younger brother, framed by dark lashes and a stature that resembles a god.  Blessed with height and good-looks to shame even the highest-ranking model, and oh.  The tattoos. The tattoos that frame his neck from his back tease on his shoulders, and the few times, the nurses caught his shirt raise; they end towards his hipbones.  It’s easy to drink him in like hot coffee, especially when he raises a hand to ruffle Yuji’s hair. “Alright, Casanova,” Sukuna chuckles as he gestures to the child’s helmet in a nearby plastic chair. “Grab your helmet. We’ve got to get going.” Yuji furrows his eyebrows to ask who is casanova, but with the unwavering gesture from Sukuna, he trots off to grab his helmet and pull on his jacket. 

“Thanks for looking out for him,” Sukuna thanks the nurse — a blonde girl, no older than about 21.  She has a training sticker on her badge and her hair pulled into two buns on the side of her head. He watches as her cheeks turn pink. His hand dips into the mug filled with lollipops on the counter and puts it into his pocket for later.

“Of course,” She replies, and he can’t help but think of the irony of her name — Candace (but for the weeks they’ve been coming to the hospital, she insists on being called Candy)— as he looks back at Yuji, who grabs up at his hand, and holds it. 

“We’ll see you later, Candy.” Sukuna winks, a sly smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Stay sweet, yeah?” He grins to himself when he spots the bright red on her face.  That was the reaction he had wanted all along — the crimson on her flushed cheeks. His boots echo down the hall with Yuji at his side before looking down at the six-year-old.   

“We’ll be back this afternoon to see granddad,” Sukuna informs him as he gives a click of his tongue for Yuji not to unwrap the candy in his fist. “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

Yuji sighs and gives a small huff before asking the question he’s been thinking of all morning.  “Kuna?” 

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Is Granddad going to die?” 

“Tch,” Sukuna starts, his tongue going against his cheek before he then raises his shoulder. He’s not the grim reaper, so he can’t give an exact answer, but Sukuna isn’t one to lie to Yuji, and there’s no point in sugarcoating it either. “Maybe. I don’t know.”  Sukuna watches how Yuji’s head looks down at his light-up sneakers — which in any case, the boy would have taken delight in —and picks him up onto his hip.  “But if it happens, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, and we’ll be fine. Think of good shit, okay? Like the flowers, we’ll bring the nurses. Or… what you want for breakfast.”

“Pancakes!” Yuji yells, wrapping his arm around Sukuna’s neck.  Sukuna lets a small smile form on his lips. That’s better, he thinks to himself. He’s too young to be that aware. He can’t say that, knowing he was the same way.  He was too aware, too knowing, but maybe not having his parents around always wondering why they did that to him.  It’s too late to be tortured by what-ifs; he’s got better things to think about, like where he’s going to find pancakes from and driving a motorcycle safely with a small child in a car seat behind him.

“Alright,” Sukuna agrees. “Pancakes it is.”

. . . 

The smell of ink wraps around the lingering scent of cleaner — bleach, wet wipes, the like as you follow your friend inside. Curious eyes look over the panels of designs lining the walls, only stopping when Rachel sets the deposit for the both of them.  There’s a clean black motorcycle outside, shiny as if it was freshly washed.  The only thing strange about it is the child’s car seat on the back, which sticks out like a sore thumb. Just like that car seat, you feel out of place in a pair of jeans and a pink shirt, borrowed from your friend. Your fingers dig a little into the sides of your denim jacket, but otherwise, there’s nowhere to hide.

The guitar chords of Come as You Are by Nirvana play on the speaker overhead. It’s loud enough to be heard but not too loud to block out the television for the child who sits in a bean bag chair, munching on what looks like pancakes in a to-go container.  Y/N can’t help but notice his pink hair, almost rose gold under the fluorescent light.  Your eyes soften as you watch him laugh at Tom, getting whacked in the head by Jerry, again for the umpteenth time.  Her necklace dances among her collarbones, her fingers reaching up and tug gently.  She only turns when she hears the pop of someone’s gum — the secretary, handling the front desk as she settles a hand on her hip.  “Can I help you?” She asks, with dark red hair, blonde tips at the bottom.  Her gum pops again, this time blowing into a bubble before popping over her onyx colored lipstick.

Rachel nods and gestures to the paperwork they’ve signed on the counter. “We’ve got an appointment. Both of us.” Y/N walks over to the counter, and she can hear the soft squeak of a chair and the slam of a trash can lid before a door shuts.  

“ Do you remember who?”  Rachel nods before pointing a finger.  

“I got her an appointment with Sukuna since he’s good at everything — and I’ve got one with Naomi.”

The redhead sighs, scratching the back of her neck. “Gimme a second,” she sighs before hopping over the side of the l-shaped desk. She walks into the room that’s off the lobby side and gives a tap on the wall.  “Sukuna, Naomi, you ready?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.  Sukuna rolls up his sleeves as he sits back in his chair and then waved a hand.  However, Naomi has someone in her chair, tattooing something on someone’s back — a dragon, maybe? 

“Send ‘em this way, Lila,”  he leans back in his chair, pins up his sleeves, and his feet cross in front of him.  He’s got these black combat boots on, his jeans neatly tucked into them, and Rachel gives Y/N a little nudge forward. 

“Go ahead. Good luck,” She smiles. “If you cry, I’ll come running, but remember! You said you wanted to start checking off your bucket list.” she teased before Y/N gives a roll of her eyes. Your fingers tug a little onto your hair, trying to fix it — after all, aren’t first impressions important?.  No going back. You has to do this for yourself. You wanted to start on your bucket list, and this was the first item.  Going back isn’t an option, not now. 

When you walk into the room, Sukuna leans up in his chair, and his eyes give you a once over.  There’s a little twinkle in his eyes, but you can’t determine what it means. So, you decide you shouldn’t read into it. You’re surprised to see that he has similar hair to the younger boy on the couch.  It is the same shade of pink, with brown undercuts — except his eyes are a startling shade of vermillion.  Under the lights, they’re almost a bright red, like a fire just starting to burn.  His arms and chest fill out a compressed charcoal gray shirt tucked into his light-colored denim jeans, and his fingernails pick at his cuticles as he leans back into his chair, tilting his head to look up at you.

Y/N can’t help but be warm from it as you walks over, and he gives a tilt of his head to gesture for you to sit, holding his hand out. “Let me see your paper,” he demands, but his voice isn’t inherently harsh. A bit gruff, deep, and his fingers feel warm but calloused. They go over your palm before returning closer to their owner, and he adds, “Take off your jacket.”  He’s beautiful.  Godly, even.  You watch how he breathes — just like you— but his chest expands, inches a little smaller once he exhales, and repeats all over again.  The tattoos that curl towards his neck’s nape are made of dark ink, as black as a void.  You can see the curl of his canine towards his lip as he gently sinks his teeth in, like a bee pressing into a flower. His shoulders are broad enough to fill the chair itself; in fact, he’s almost too big, and you can’t help but think of what’s like just to be closer to him. 

Sukuna reads over the paper, looks at the location.  Shoulder cap.  “Is this your first time?” He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. There’s also what you don’t want, and he everything you put, he couldn’t see you with anyways. No skulls, nothing he would consider gruff or dark first.  Y/N nods, still a bit hesitant to say anything.  “Yes,” you clarify, reminding yourself to nod.  If you were going to ask your students to use their words, you should hold yourself to the same standard, right?

“You know that’s not an easy spot, right?”

“I know. I can take it.”  Sukuna chuckles, gives a murmur of I don’t doubt that, and then stands to his feet. His eyes are soft before he glances at the paper again and gestures. The sunlight hits him just right from the wide window near his station, and there’s a clearing filled with a mixture of unidentifiable wildflowers. They’re beautiful, and every one looks different to yours eyes… you can’t help but wonder if he chose it for the view. 

“You… sure you want to give me free rein on your tattoo?”

“Ehrm, yeah,” Y/N swallowed. “I heard you were the best, and I don’t want a tattoo that’s like anyone else’s… so I figured I would trust your creativity.”  However, Sukuna smiles and raises an eyebrow. The comment strokes his pride, amused at his legacy that undoubtedly gets passed from client to client. His eyes give you another look over as he picks up a tablet and takes you in. And are you easy to take in…  so much so, he has to remind himself to slow down, lest he absorb you somehow, and you disappear entirely from his sight.   He looks at the deep v of your shirt, and the somewhat innocence in the way you toy with the hem of your shirt, and the pink sleeves that remind him so much of the clouds Yuji likes to draw.  When he inhales again, he’s taking you in, at full force like some kind of cosmic angel.  It’s like the sun has framed you, even given you a halo.  You’re a canvas of his creation.  The way the light makes you glow.  The sun halo. 

And he picks up his pen and starts to draw. The first muse he’s had since… well, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a muse. But he would relish it while he could, before the reality set back in. “You can sit — what’s your name?” His fingers work fast with your appearance burned into his memory as he hears the soft squeak of his tattooing chair you sit in.

“Y/N.”

Sukuna mouths your name to himself as he sketches. “Take a look,” he starts, “Tell me if you don’t like it. Be honest, because these are permanent.”   There’s some part of Y/N that’s tempted to give a brief I know, but there’s a lack of maliciousness in his tone that makes you bite your tongue.  You lean over into his space, and he gets the slightest whiff of your shampoo — something sweet mixed with the scent of mint, making him release a soft hum.  

“It’s beautiful,” You admit, nodding. “Perfect.”

A pleased smile edges it way onto Sukuna’s lips, before he nods. “Then let’s get started. Lemme wash my hands and grab some gloves, and we’ll be ready to go. Go ahead and get your shoulder out, and I’ll grab a towel to keep from getting your clothes dirty.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” Sukuna nods, looking over his shoulder. “No problem, Y/N.”

[et-lesailes]

alibi

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 2485

summary: the death of harlan thrombey is being investigated, and while ransom seems to be the perfect suspect, he also has the perfect alibi.

themes: mentions of murder, drama, fluff

taglist: @evanstush​, @chibi-crazy​, @tanyam93​, @bval-1​, @wonderwinchester​,  @patzammit​, @rohaintahquil​, @deidrashouseofpain​, @sammyslonglostshoe​, @mizariomi​, @jadedhillon​, @bohemian-barbie​, @marvelouspottering​, @sebabestianstan101​, @lille-kattunge​, @peach-acid​, @heyiamthatbitch​, @cptn-sgrogers​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​, @bangtan-serendipity​, @troublermalik​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @hannie-stark​, @bookish-shristi​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​, @whores4thor​, @gingerninjaprincess16​, @straightforwardly​, @danathewitchywoman​, @denisemarieangelina​, @mango--mango​, @frencchfries​, @xlanawriter​, @littlemoistcarrot​, @pottxrwolff​, @arianatheangelworld​, @ifuseekamyevans​, @southerngracela​, @nsfwsebbie​, @rororo06​​, @almost-had-the-stars​, @sebastian-i-stan​, @whysparker​​

notes: this was based on an idea given to me by @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory​ and i absolutely loved it! i did change it up a little, and no i did not reveal who the actual killer is-- because i don’t know how to write mystery fics for shit, and i wanted to focus on ransom and reader’s relationship rather than solving an entire ass murder. anywho there are references to scenes from the movie so if you’re sensitive to spoilers then don’t read! and thank you to @thewritingdoll​ for the graphic!

“You think I killed my Granddad.”

Ransom looks at Detective Benoit for a few seconds before scoffing, even smirking as he looks to the window of the elegant room lined with bookshelves. “And why exactly do you think that?”

“Now I didn’t say that.” The detective drawls, leaning forward and looking at the younger with intense crystal hues. “But you left his party early, right after a rather serious fight with him, and you don’t bother to show to the funeral… seems a little suspicious. I’d like to know where you were.”

Ransom looks at the detective for a few moments before leaning in as well. “Where I was,” he lowers his voice, “is none of your goddamn business. It’s not even relevant to anyone in this goddamn family, so you can go ahead and get your Kentucky Fried ass out of it right now.” He stands up, looking at the detective almost challengingly. “Maybe you should find another occupation, Detective, because you don’t seem all that great at this one.”

Benoit watches as the man turns around and walks out the door. A few seconds later, he stands up as well, walking outside. He gets into the passenger side of a waiting car, the headlights turned off.

He nods towards Detective Elliot sitting in the driver’s side. “Follow him.”

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER

“Interesting how you’ll show up at the reading of the will and not at your grandfather’s actual funeral.” Walt Thrombey comments as Ransom strides into the room, his expression bored as he tucks his sunglasses into his pocket. He barely smirks in amusement upon his uncle’s comment, sitting himself down on one of the couches and crossing his legs. “Had another commitment. Unlike you, I wasn’t stuck up his ass my whole life.”

Walt widens his eyes, immediately shooting up from his seat through struggling slightly with his limp. “What the hell did you just say to me? That’s not true, w-we worked together, of course we had to spend time together!” His wife quickly grabs his arm, giving Ransom a dirty look. “Just sit down, sweetheart.” Ransom notices his father barely chuckle out of the corner of his eye. 

What a family.

“You shouldn’t be here, Ransom,” Meg hisses, glaring at her older cousin. “You never appreciated Granddad. All you did was fight with him all the time.” Her mother Joni bites her lip but murmurs, “Up until his very last night…. Seems a little suspicious.” Linda immediately turns on her. “Excuse you? Are you trying to imply something here concerning my son?” 

“Oh come on, Linda,” Walt scoffs, “I bet you wouldn’t put it past him either. Kid’s a sociopath, always has been. We’ve been telling you to get him help for years.”

“My son does not need help!” Richard raises his voice, standing up infuriated. “And do you really want to talk about damaged children right now? Have you met Jacob?”

The young teenage boy looks up from his phone, clearly offended. “What’s wrong with me? Besides, I told you guys, I heard Ransom basically threatening Granddad! He clearly did it!” His mother quickly rubs his arm. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Jacob.” The fight only escalates from there, insults directed towards all the Thrombey children firing back and forth. 

Ransom can’t help himself. It starts out as a grin, then a low chuckle, then finally a loud cackle of laughter. He’s practically thumping the armrest of the couch, shaking his head to himself. “Oh, God. You guys are too funny. We should do this more often.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Meg practically screeches, “What is wrong with you? How are you getting enjoyment from this?” Over her voice, other comments can be heard-- “He shouldn’t even be here!” “Can he just fucking leave already?” “Do something about your son!” “Why do you guys suck as parents?” “He should be removed from the damn family!” “Fucking spoiled brat!” “Cut him off already!”

Ransom scoffs, his face still full of amusement. “How about… eat shit,” he points to Meg, then Walt, “and you eat shit,” he continues, then chuckles seeing his parents reprimanding him, “you definitely eat shit…” 

He’s still going as everyone’s telling him how “classy” he is, the uproar becoming louder and louder. Perhaps anyone else in his position would be affected by this-- it normally isn’t easy for most to be so hated and despised by their own family, and it’s generally quite stressful to be in a yelling match with at least seven other people. Not for Ransom, though. He’s lived with this dysfunction his whole life, and now, he only finds it hilarious how uptight and irritable his high strung family gets. They make it so damn easy for him to have some fun.

“Hello? Excuse me!” a loud voice rings above all the fighting, and everyone falls silent, looking towards the doorway. An old man is standing there, looking at the family in both shock and disgust. “We’re ready to read the will now, if you all are done.” Everyone immediately gets up, nodding their heads and forgetting all about the drama Ransom’s started.

For now, anyways.

Detective Benoit Blanc can’t help but study Ransom as the will is being read, taking in how calm and collected he is. He has not eliminated any suspects, and God knows this entire family is a mess of dysfunction and motive, but he has at least had the opportunity to talk with them and get to know them a little better. Ransom is still a mystery, and he finds this suspicious.

It is not long before the family is in an uproar again, this time over the will. Even Benoit is shocked. All of Harlan’s inheritance, gone to Marta Cabrera? He looks to Ransom, who’s simply sitting there grinning like an idiot- even beginning to laugh hysterically.

Ransom appears to be the only one who knew of Harlan’s plans before anyone else in the family. Benoit takes note of this. Perhaps it will help him later on. 

PRESENT TIME

“There’s two cars in the driveway.” Lieutenant Elliot notes, the two of them watching as Ransom gets out of his. “A Honda Civic. Nothing flashy, expensive-- certainly not Ransom’s.” Benoit murmurs, keeping his head slightly low as he keeps an eye on the man from their spot behind a tree. He walks into the modern style home, and Elliot barely chuckles. “These giant windows sure help. Jesus, he must not care too much for privacy.” He raises an eyebrow, adding, “Not that this is going to give us anything, Benny, come on-- the guy killed himself. That’s all there is to it.”

“There’s just something about this boy.” Benoit sighs, looking to the house calmly. “He’s… hiding something. From his entire family. I’d like to make sure it doesn’t involve Harlan’s death.” 

What the two see in the next five minutes is definitely unexpected, to say the least. Elliot watches the living room window in shock, scoffing slowly. “Unbelievable. This is what he’s hiding? How-- how could his family not know?” 

Benoit watches, his expression unreadable for a few moments before the corner of his lips slowly tugs upwards. “I see.” He murmurs, more so to himself. “I suppose the kid could be innocent, after all.” 

“Why am I here again?” Ransom raises an eyebrow at the man before him, crossing his legs. “We’ve already gone over this. I didn’t kill my Granddad, and I’m not answering any questions as to where I-”

“Anette Harper Drysdale.” Benoit cuts him off, looking at an open file in his hands. “Born November 22nd at 11:42 AM.” He looks up at Ransom’s shocked expression, tilting his head to one side. “During your grandfather’s funeral.” He looks back down at the file, flipping to another page. “It appears her mother arrived at the hospital the night before, though. Early contractions. You checked in to see her at 9:23 PM and didn’t check out until after the baby was born.”

“How do you have those?” Ransom immediately hisses, shooting up from his chair and reaching out to grab the file. Benoit lets him, having suspected he would do as much anyways. “We had reasonable suspicion, and so the hospital was required to give it to us. I’m only confused as to why you didn’t just tell us all of this from the start. You clearly had no part in your grandfather’s death. Why not prove yourself innocent with this?”

“Because my family can’t know about Y/N. And they especially can’t know about Anette.” Ransom sits back down, teeth grit from frustration. “Fine. You got me, alright? I’m married. And now, I have a daughter. A daughter who isn’t even a week old. That’s all I’m hiding here, and I want to continue hiding it. I’m not introducing my real family to this fucked up bunch.”

“I won’t tell them.” Benoit replies after studying the other for a few moments. “I have to admit, I had you all wrong.”

“Yeah, most people do. Look, being with Y/N- I’m not the same person I was before. I mean, sure, I’m not a fucking saint. And I’ll still take any chance I can to see my parents, cousins, uncles, aunts-- to see them get screwed over just because of how damn entertaining it is. But I’m never, never going to do something to jeopardize my wife, and now, my daughter. Do you get that?”

Benoit looks at the intensity in Ransom’s features. He’s sure the boy knows how to lie like a pro, but he can tell he’s not lying now.

“You can go, Ransom. I’ve officially eliminated you as a suspect from this case.”

You’re sitting at home in the nursery and cradling your sweet baby girl to sleep when Ransom walks in, his loud sigh echoing through the spacious living room. “Oh!” you whisper, wanting to call to him that you’re upstairs but definitely not wanting to wake little Anette. You carefully stand up, holding her close as you walk out of the nursery, coming to the banister that gives you a view of the front door so you can wave to him to come up. He immediately grins upon seeing you, taking off his coat and scarf tossing both on the nearby couch before making his way upstairs. “Hey.” He mumbles lowly, wrapping one arm around you and kissing your head. “How is she?” You smile, leaning into your boyfriend’s hold. “A little angel. I can’t believe how lucky we got, she barely cries-- only when she’s hungry.” 

He stares down at his daughter’s face, almost in disbelief with himself. He never cared for babies, or for people for that matter. After living with such a shit family like his, he had never really learned what loving or caring for someone was like. He watched them use others, use his grandfather’s money for their own success, and so that’s what he did. People were puppets to be manipulated, and he could bend them to his will however he wanted because of his family’s money.

And then he met you. No, it wasn’t love at first sight, no bullshit like that. He hates to think about it but in the beginning, he saw you as he saw every other female companion he came across. Someone to play with, someone to throw money at for a couple of weeks just for the hell of it, someone to satisfy his sexual needs. 

At least, that’s what he had wanted from you. And you were certainly not giving into it. 

He remembers how shocked yet intrigued he had been. You wouldn’t accept any money from him, and you didn’t fall for any of his charming flirtations. He even had to watch you date other men right in front of him before finally realizing this was driving him crazy. It started out as simply wanting something he couldn’t have. As he got to know you, it turned into just… wanting you no matter what. It stopped becoming some type of challenging game to him. It became reality. 

He thought he was the master manipulator in any relationship, but damn, you managed to twist him into all sorts of shapes and forms without even trying.

“She gets it from you, you know.” He mutters playfully with a scoff as he carefully walks you back into the nursery, eyes still fixated on his sleeping baby’s face. “Can’t even imagine having one like me running around.” You laugh softly at the thought, gently setting the little girl down into her crib. She barely frowns and you hold your breath, worried that those blue-green eyes might open along with a wailing mouth, but she simply settles down again and resumes sleeping. “Well, that might be a possibility in the future,” you remark as you step back, looking up at him with an amused smile. “Aren’t you the one who said you want us to have at least three?”

“Mainly because you look so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Ransom mutters, leaning down to bury his head in your neck and start kissing at every inch of skin he can. “It’s just so hot seeing you carry my child.” You smile as you tilt your head, reaching your hand up to stroke his hair. “Well my handsome baby daddy, you can calm down for the time being because I have no plans of being pregnant again right after giving birth.” He sighs dramatically as the two of you leave the nursery, closing the door but leaving it slightly cracked open. “Mm, fine, we’ll talk when Anette’s one.”

You chuckle softly but bite your lip, holding his hands as you stop to look up at him. “What did he ask you?” Ransom pauses before sighing, looking down at you seriously. “He knows about us. About Anette. But he promised he wouldn’t tell my family. He just cleared me from the case, I’m officially not involved anymore.”

You sigh in relief, squeezing his hand lightly. “That’s great, baby. But... what are you going to do?” you ask, a little worried. “Sooner or later you’re not going to have their money anymore. I don’t mind being the only one working, babe, but with a single income we might have to move out of this place…”

Ransom looks down at you more seriously, reaching out to stroke a strand of your hair behind your ear. “If I have to get a job at my mom’s stupid real estate agency, I will. No matter what, we’ll figure this out. I’m going to do whatever I can if it means providing for the two of you and giving you the best damn life possible, got it?”

You smile and nod your head, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “As long as you’re here with us, we’ve already got the best life.” 

[izzy-b-hands]

You Send Me: Chapter Eight

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe

Did I seriously include the song this fic is named for in the fic? Of course I did lol. Part of this fic is self-indulgence, another bit is wanting to write good fic y’all will enjoy, and the other part is getting more people to listen to Sam Cooke. 

Also, much like Freddie, I’m a gay who can’t drive. I’ve had a few lessons on an automatic, was too terrified to learn stick at all, so if the driving in this chapter is questionable...yeah. There’s a reason I made description in that section brief lol.  In my defense, Freddie is also involved in that portion, so this is the blind leading the blind here, but doing their best. Points if you notice the real life driving mistake I made when I had lessons that I included in this fic!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Come dance!” Freddie, usually shy in public, was officially drunk enough to be less shy, and it was adorable. 

Until now.

“I don’t dance,” you insisted. “I’m content to watch you lot go.” 

“You said you like Sam Cooke,” he protested, pointing at the jukebox, which at this bar held almost exclusively ‘50s and ‘60s sock bop sounding pop music. “That’s what’s playing, and what we have queued up. Come on, let yourself have some fun!” 

Blessedly, it switched to a slower favorite of yours, You Send Me, as Freddie pulled you out of your seat. This, you knew you could manage. 

And with no one there aside from the bar staff, the band, and the crew, you could actually enjoy it, letting your arms wrap around Freddie to hold him close while you swayed. It maybe wasn’t ‘dancing’ exactly, but it was lovely, and his smile was well worth it. 

“I bet you can sing this well,” Freddie mumbled. “I want you to sing it for me. Go on.” 

“Freddie,” you blushed. “Maybe later.” 

“Later,” he nodded. “Fine. In the next hotel room, you’re going to sing for me.” 

You shook your head and laughed. “Sure. If we’re both awake by then.” 

Even though you were refraining from drinking more than a sip of whatever Freddie was having, you figured you would still be exhausted from running about with them. They were fun, but energetic fun, more than you were used to from working the same venue each night. 

The crew fell away from their professional personas as well, and you chuckled as you drifted with the group to the next bar, one arm holding Freddie close and mostly upright, the other tugging John in line, as he would turn to look at whatever caught his eye as you went down the road, and would occasionally forget to continue walking as he did. 

Crystal and Roger were mostly holding each other up, and Brian was trying to tally exactly how much each of you had already had to drink, in what seemed to be an attempt to ensure no one got any drunker. Adorably, he kept getting distracted by the sky, desperately working to point out various stars and constellations to whoever was closest to him, disparaging the brightness of the city lights that made them hard to see. 

You could only compare it to kittens, or puppies, let loose in a yard for the first time. Interested in everything, with unsteady legs, barely able to recall exactly what their original goal in moving was.

Somehow, the next bar still agreed to serve you all, though you again found yourself not wanting to drink much at all. It was more fun watching everyone else get sloshed, the playful barking at each other over the drinking competitions that started over already half-drunk pints of beer. Besides that, someone would need to have most of their mind present to get everyone back to the van. 

The idea was to drive right away, and make the two or so hours to Kalamazoo so everyone could rest before the show. However, the more everyone partied, the more you wondered if that was an achievable goal. 

Sure enough, getting them back to the van was chore enough. 

“I’m not ready for the van,” John mumbled. “I hate that thing.” 

“You helped pick it out,” you giggled. 

He was draped over your shoulder, feet stumbling along, trying to hold hands with Freddie behind your back. “I know. It was cheapest, and safest, but it’s so ugly. You know, you know, it won’t even be the booze that makes me sick, it’ll be the interior of it.” 

“It’ll be the booze for me,” Freddie said cheerfully, before patting you on the back and stumbling to the nearest trash can on the corner. It sounded painful, but he grinned even as he stumbled back. “No more for me. Too much, much too much already. That’s a funny word, much...” 

John groaned as Freddie continued to rhapsodize about the word ‘much’, and you focused on keeping them both walking. 

Granted, the trail you were following was an odd one, with Brian and Roger and the crew leaning on each other just ahead of you, laughing and walking in anything but a straight line. More importantly, you didn’t recognize anything around you.

“Lads?” you asked.

No response, everyone was in their own little world.

“Guys?” 

Nothing, but Freddie let his face fall against your neck and mumbled something that sounded like “What?” 

“Are we going the wrong way?” 

Brian was the one to stop dead, so fast that Roger smacked straight into his back. “This isn’t where the van is.” 

“No,” you said slowly. “I think it’s back the way we came. I think, at least.” 

Had Brian been sober, you figured he would have led the charge back the other way. But drunk Brian was easier to panic, and panic he did, dropping to sit on the nearest curb. 

“How’re we going to get back? I don’t know where we are, and if you don’t know where we are,” he threw up his arms in apparent frustration. “Then we’re done for.” 

“I don’t know about that,” you said, and tried to swing John and Freddie with you to a payphone on the other side of the road. “How about I call the driver, hm? Maybe he can just drive and find us.” 

“Y’mean me?” the crew member that usually drove popped out from behind Crystal, nearly tripping as he did. 

“Oh for pity’s sake,” you muttered. “Did you all forget we have to drive to Kalamazoo before the morning?” 

Mentioning the next city’s name was a mistake, because it utterly destroyed them. 

“What a stupid fucking name,” Roger laughed, slipping to sit down by Brian. “Like kazoo. Or harmonica. I’m going to name a city Timpani.” 

“You’re going to buy a city just for that?” Brian asked. 

Roger shrugged. “What better reason to buy one?” 

“Property taxes,” John said decisively, earning another round of laughter, but as far as you could tell he was deadly serious. 

“Okay,” you said. “I technically have a license. I’ve never driven a van, or much at all, but I can do this.” 

Only Freddie seemed to glom onto what you were going to do. “Are you going to leave us here, and go get it?” 

“Don’t have a lot of other choice, love,” you replied, and helped him and John to the curb. “Just stay put, make sure no one is sick all over themselves, and soon enough we’ll have you on the van, alright?” 

“I should come with you,” Freddie insisted, struggling to his feet. “I’ve only had...I didn’t count the drinks, but that’s fine. You can drive, I’ll just help you drive well.” 

“Freddie, you don’t know how to drive at all!” Roger called. 

“Well, technically I don’t either,” you admitted. “I mean, my granddad bribed the instructor to pass me...and I have been in a car, behind the wheel before...for an afternoon, at least...” 

You looked down at the sensation of John’s hand on your leg. 

“I believe in you,” he said, again so serious you would have thought this matter was life-or-death. “Bring us our ugly fucking van.” 

“It isn’t that bad, John,” you sighed. “You’ve got to forgive yourself for that, my man. You really do.” 

You left them then, Freddie stumbling along beside you, and pondered exactly how different a van might be compared to a car, and hoped to god it wasn’t a stick. 

“Driving is overrated,” he mumbled as you took him by the arm, keeping him close so he wouldn’t get lost in the small crowds on the sidewalk. “But flying is expensive. How do people get around in this country?” 

“You drive, or you find the money to fly, or you hope there’s a train or subway in your area,” you replied. “Or in my case, you walk when you can, and are incredibly thankful and kind to those who provide you with rides when you need them.” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “That’s why your thighs are so big. I mean I like that, that they are. But it’s the walking. Lots of muscle. Good thighs, those. I wish we had a hotel room tonight, so I could appreciate them properly.” 

You blushed, grateful that the people out and about didn’t seem to give a shit about the two of you wandering, and Freddie speaking less than quietly, though you didn’t think he was aware of that in his current state. “Maybe once you’ve sobered up, hm? If we make it to Kalamazoo on time, and all.” 

He nodded, only to suddenly dash away from you as you approached the venue, lurching towards the van. 

“Please be careful!” you called, patting yourself down for the van keys. 

The keys that were not in any of your pockets. 

Because they were with the driver, back many streets away. 

“Freddie,” you said softly as you watched him struggle with the van door. “Have you ever picked a lock?” 

----

“We owe Roger one,” Freddie sighed as you finally clambered into the van. “I’ve never been so glad he liked breaking into my hotel rooms.” 

Roger’s method, at least part of it taught to Freddie, had been enough to crack the lock and let you in. As a bonus, it has also sobered Freddie up a decent amount. 

He settled into the passenger seat and watched you sit behind the wheel. “So. You have driven before, at least once?” 

You nodded. “It didn’t go great, but I have.” 

He nodded slowly, matching your nods, as if that would somehow make the van go on its own, as the two of you stared at the steering wheel. “By didn’t go great...” 

“I was supposed to do a three point turn on a really narrow dirt road, and sort of ended up more in the ditch than on the road. My granddad had to help me get it back on the road, yelling the whole time, it was horrid, honestly.” 

“Can sort of see why you don’t drive more, knowing that,” Freddie said. “But you’ve got this.” 

You sighed, and then realized that, without the keys, the van would not go anywhere. “Oh fucking hell.” 

Freddie fumbled with the glove compartment, and tossed an extra set of keys to you. “Thank god we paid extra for those. Never thought we’d need them, but here we are.” 

Getting out of the lot was easy enough; it was a big open area with no other vehicles in it at the time. 

Detroit traffic, however, was a different beast. 

“I literally would kill to be doing anything else,” you muttered. 

“As long as it isn’t me you would kill,” Freddie chuckled. “But I get it, this is...not great. Let’s not say bad.” 

But it was bad. You crept forward as much as you could manage, only to get not a single spot you were fast enough to drive into so you could join the traffic. 

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Freddie said gently. “I don’t know that this is really right, but next time you see an opening, just gun it? I suppose?” 

“Anything is better than sitting here,” you replied, and the next chance you got, you took. 

Thankfully, it seemed Detroit drivers weren’t unused to sloppy driving. Sure, ninety percent of them were flipping you off, but you were in your lane, obeying the speed limit, and braking with enough room (maybe too much, at a few stops, but you preferred that to accidentally hitting anyone.) 

Even so, you had to nearly ask Freddie to pry your white-knuckled hands off the steering wheel once you’d reached the rest of your group and parked in the lot of the bar nearest to them. 

“Are you good to drive?” you asked the driver as he led the rest over. 

“Sure,” he replied, while you watched everyone else make their way into the van. 

“No, really,” you said. “Traffic is terrible here, if you aren’t sober enough, then we need to wait.” 

He muttered something under his breath, too low for you to hear, but nodded. “Fine. We’ll be close on time, but we’ll see if we can sleep it off here for a bit.” 

You headed for the van, only to dash away as John came running back out of it, making it a good few feet away before he lost his stomach over the pavement. 

“I told you it would be the interior,” he said, as he tried to wave away your hands. 

“Let me at least help you up,” you insisted, and it was a relief when he let you grab him and carefully pull him up. You managed a quick wave to Freddie, who watched as you helped John back onto the van. 

He looked tired, and like the beginnings of a hangover were starting to claw at him, but he smiled as he looked on, and that made the whole situation better. 

Though you were still incredibly glad you wouldn’t have to drive the van to Kalamazoo yourself. The streets of Detroit had been more than enough, thank you very much. 

[hauntedfalcon]

Happy Christmas, Star Wars Is Over

that was a thing I saw with my own two eyes 

“we have to End the Saga! ... but also leave ourselves opportunities to make more money” you really clearly cannot have it both ways 

there was... so much about that movie that I would have been able to tolerate... if the trio had been together the whole time 

but the instant Rey left the group, it became a terrible movie where stupid things happened for no reason, and there was nothing good going on to balance that out 

the trio interactions were, give or take one uppity Poe, everything I wanted 

they were so good together 

literally I yearned for two whole movies and I finally got what I wanted for a little while 

anyway as for the rest of the movie, you know the trolley problem? 

they had a couple options for tracks to follow after TFA and TLJ 

and instead they just... steered the trolley off a cliff 

what hit me hardest was the moments where Rey had the helmet on in Luke’s X-wing, and the moment where she sleds down into the Lars homestead 

cute moments! recognizable moments! music cues that helped us recognize them 

but the actual takeaway was that she had received absolutely no development since the first time we saw her put on an X-wing pilot’s helmet or sled down a sand hill 

none of them did 

when people kept asking her in TFA who she was, I never took that to mean “tell us your family name” or “which extremely powerful being gave you your powers” but what is your identity and how do you find it for yourself 

which is a theme that could have been explored if they weren’t busy driving the fucking trolley off the cliff 

what did any of it really mean? what’s the plan for the future? in thirty years does it all start over again when another Sith lord turns out to still be debatably alive? 

also everybody saying “we have to do this or the General died for nothing” like by that point? she had already? died? for nothing??? 

she projected herself through space to distract her shitty son long enough for Rey to stab him! that was the point!!! 

that was the death of her son that she foresaw at the end of her Jedi path! coming to terms with that and making it happen herself for the good of the galaxy could have been a thing!!!

all of these plot points are stupid, but there was a coherent way to connect them, and the movie just kept trying to contradict itself instead

disrespectful honestly 

keeping her corpse under a sheet until Kyle faded away was extremely disrespectful 

also not a fan of how they tried to build scenes around the scraps of extra Carrie Fisher footage they had to work with 

I maintain Leia should have been the one to do the jump at the end of TLJ, and then we wouldn’t have had to deal with this bullshit 

Rey should have been a Kenobi

Rey Should Have Been A Kenobi 

but moreover, Rey Should Have Been Able to Forge Her Own Identity Independently of a Lineage

which would have done wonders for the trilogy and put her on equal footing with Finn’s character concept 

if, let’s say, Palpatine was not a thing in this movie, and let’s say she ended up in Transport Tug of War with Kyle anyway, and she still accidentally Force-lightninged the ship and had to deal with that afterward? 

that would have been interesting! grappling with your own capacity for doing evil is interesting! “you have a capacity for doing evil because of your wrinkly granddad” is NOT 

imagine the conversation in the ship after the lightning where Finn says he gets it and Rey says he doesn’t, and Finn says yes, yes he does, because everyone has the capacity to cause harm regardless of the scale of it, but it’s the choosing that counts 

imagine if these characters got to say things to each other that actually mattered to the plot 

what a waste of Jodie Comer

why hire Jodie Comer and only put her onscreen for five seconds 

that’s like hiring Thandie Newton and killing her off after twenty minutes, or hiring Ming-Na Wen and killing her off after one epis--oh wait 

I was listening hard during the Every Jedi Talks At Once bit and it did my heart good to hear Qui-Gon again 

no Chirrut Îmwe though. see? disrespectful 

my beloved Finn 

my beloved Finn 

my beloved Finn is finally confirmed Force sensitive, and there is no time to build on that afterward 

my beloved Finn meets more people who broke First Order conditioning and refused to fire on civilians, who escaped and lived free, and we get a thirty-second conversation about it and it’s never mentioned again 

that should have been the A-plot 

my beloved Finn held. Poe’s. hand. and it was clearly a thing they do regularly 

my beloved Finn was so competent 

my beloved Finn was a GENERAL 

and that’s it. that’s all I’ll ever get of my beloved Finn 

Lucasfilm is not going to mention him ever again 

I am getting emotional now, back to things that made me angry  

what the fuck are they trying to pull with Poe 

a spice runner? a spice runner??? 

no nope no you’re not making him the Han of the sequel trilogy Abrams 

and then the whiplash of him being given command and wishing he had Leia’s guidance again and getting guidance from Lando instead and immediately acting on it? there’s actual Poe! right there! 

I don’t understand who it is they keep trying to convince us he is, but the real Poe always comes through in the end, thank you Oscar Isaac 

the hug 

the hug and the focus on Finn holding both of them and crying with relief 

I sure did miss Rose 

introducing just enough new characters for everyone to have a ~safe~ potential love interest was so transparent

there’ll be a comic book or a novel set decades down the line where some background character will be mentioned in passing as Finn and Jannah’s kid, and that will be that 

that being said now that we have Jannah you can pry her from my cold dead hands 

the fact that they didn’t even talk about why Lando left the fight??? 

the leaks I read were from an earlier cut of the movie where Lando told them he had a young child who was kidnapped by the First Order

he didn’t get to say anything about it this time??? it was implied to have been Jannah but they didn’t even get that much? they want us to believe he’s been hanging out on One Party Every Forty-Two Years Planet just because?????

hyperspace gets more and more watered down with every consecutive movie

it’s to the point where even the purrgils don’t seem that special anymore

the disposability of all the ships was almost as irritating as all the planet-hopping 

ships, just like lightsabers, are entirely renewable resources, there is one around every corner  

my “the Force is really just the ghosts of dead Jedi intervening for the living” theory is still going strong, especially now that Luke could lift his X-wing 

Yoda had to do it in ESB because Yoda had more dead Jedi friends  than Luke :) 

I legit squealed “WEDGE” when he appeared for 1.9 seconds

afterwards my best friend was like “what’s a Wedge? was it that Mike Pence guy” and I lost it 

Leia’s lightsaber was so pretty but I’m sad the blade wasn’t red in this canon 

Disney hopes you enjoyed 1.5 seconds of lesbian representation in a Star Wars movie, now never ask for anything again 

Dominic Monaghan was also there for some reason 

I’m running out of things to say, everything else in this movie was too fucking stupid to even talk about 

especially That 

we’re not talking about That 

at least we’ll always have The Mandalorian (pending any fuckery in the finale) 

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Thirty

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

August 25th, 2000

Emile gave both his parents one last hug. “Thanks Mom, Dad. I promise I’ll call soon,” he said.

His mom and dad just smiled as they packed the last of his things in his car together. “You’ll do fine, Emile. Don’t feel pressured to call us if you can’t do it every week,” his mom advised. “Of course, I won’t object to you calling every week, but...”

Emile laughed. His dad gave him a hug. “I’m so proud of you, son. Go out and get that degree, so you can be the world’s best therapist, like you’ve been wanting to do since you were twelve.”

“I will,” Emile promised. “And I’ll call when I can, and write when I can’t, and I love you both.”

The three of them hugged, before Emile drove all the way to his college, teary-eyed. This was it. He was on his own, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. It was nerve-wracking, but also incredibly freeing.

He already knew he was going to miss his parents, though.

July 13th, 2019

Logan was fiddling with his hair in his room, pulling faces in the mirror he was holding up to mess with it. “You doing okay, Logan?” Emile asked.

“Fine,” Logan said, voice only cracking a little. “Just want to look presentable to your parents.”

Emile shook his head fondly and walked over, fixing Logan’s cowlicks with a little hair gel. “You’ll do fine, Logan. You look your best when you’re relaxed. Don’t stress so much. My parents are going to love you and your brothers.”

“I hope so,” Logan said softly.

“I know so,” Emile asserted. “They fell in love with Remy the second they met him, and immediately asked me when I planned to pop the question. In front of him. They’re just like me, in that sense. So just treat them with the same respect you give me, and you’ll do fine.”

Logan nodded. “Would a tie be too much, then?”

Emile smiled. “I would say no, but only because I know you love wearing ties anyway. There’s no need for your Sunday best around my parents. They’ve seen some silly pictures of you anyway, from your brothers’ escapades and your reactions. They’re not going to expect you to be poised all the time, or even want that from you.”

“I’m not used to grandparents being understanding,” Logan muttered.

“I know,” Emile said, helping Logan with his tie. “But you’re going to do great, understand me?”

Logan nodded as a car door closed outside. “That must be them,” Emile said with a smile. “Let’s go greet them, shall we?”

Vanellope was waiting at the door, tail wagging as she watched Emile’s parents through the screen door. She squirmed excitedly as Logan put her leash on and walked out of the house with her to greet Emile’s parents. Emile followed Logan out, keeping a steady hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Hey Mom, Dad! It’s been a little while!” he laughed.

“I know it has, you missed Christmas!” his mother scolded, but she was smiling. “You never missed Christmas with us before!”

“We didn’t want to shock Roman quite that soon,” Emile said, walking over and giving his mom a hug. “Dad, how are you?”

“Still stunned that I get to meet five grandchildren. I wasn’t even expecting one, let alone five!” his dad exclaimed.

Emile laughed and he hugged his dad, as he heard the front door open more behind him, and he could hear Roman chatting with Virgil and Patton. The three of them grew quiet as Emile stepped back, and they looked decidedly uncertain. “Mom, Dad, you can see Logan, holding Vanellope; he’s sixteen. Roman is the second oldest and second tallest; he’s twelve for one more week. The twins are Patton and Virgil, Patton is the one who looks like me, and Virgil is the blond; they’re both eight. And...where’s Dee?”

“Inside,” Roman said. “He’s attached himself to Ami’s leg and refused to let go.”

Emile laughed. “Well, then, you’ll see Dee when you go inside and Remy finds a way to walk around without hurting him. He’s six.”

His dad shook his head. “How do you accidentally adopt five kids, Emile?”

“Well, I told you I was a sperm donor in college, right?” Emile asked.

His dad stared at him blankly for one, two, three seconds. Then, he started to laugh. “Wait a second...all these kids...are yours? Biologically?!”

“Uh...yeah,” Emile said, scratching the back of his neck. “Whoops?”

His dad only laughed harder. His mother shook her head fondly. “Well, I always knew you were destined for chaos, Emile, but this isn’t quite what I was expecting.”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Shall we go inside, though? I can grab your bags.”

“Nonsense, we can carry our own bags, Emile,” his dad said. “You get that lovely husband of yours and our youngest grandson.”

“Will do,” Emile said with a laugh. He walked back inside and could hear faint murmuring as he entered the house, no doubt Logan introducing himself. “Hey, Rem, Mom and Dad are here!”

He could hear quiet murmuring from the kitchen and he followed the noise to find Remy hugging Dee, who was shaking like a leaf. “Rem?” he asked.

“Dee’s worried about the new people,” Remy said softly. “Apparently new people usually weren’t good in the past.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Dee, Mom and Dad will love you,” Emile said. “They’re your grandparents, how could they not like you?”

Dee looked at Emile uncertainly and signed, “What if they want me to talk?”

“They know that you prefer signing to speaking, Dee, and they’ve been trying to re-learn sign to talk to you in your preferred language,” Emile explained. “My parents want to accommodate you as much as possible. I got it from somewhere, I didn’t just spring out from the ground wanting to help everyone I saw.”

Dee still looked uncertain.

“Look, you can stay with Ami if you want, or you can come with me, both of us are going to wind up in the living room with your grandma and granddad. And if you get overwhelmed, you’re always free to leave,” Emile said softly.

Dee nodded and signed, “I’ll stay with Ami.”

“Okay. If you want, you can help him with drinks, but don’t cling to his leg so that he can’t move, okay? He likes seeing my parents too,” Emile said.

Dee nodded and Emile moved back through the house to the living room, where Logan was sitting with Vanellope in his lap on the floor, and Roman, Patton, and Virgil were playing together on one of the couches, while his parents were on the other. “Dee and Remy should be in shortly,” he informed them.

“That’s good,” his mom said. “Logan was just telling us about his transition, and how much you and Remy have helped him.”

Logan turned a bit pink. “I mean, I wouldn’t have started my transition at all without Dad and Ami by my side,” he said. “It’s only fair to thank them, and give them the recognition they deserve.”

Emile smiled. “I’m happy that you feel more comfortable in your skin, Logan. Everyone deserves to feel like themselves.”

“Seconded!” Roman exclaimed.

“Thirded!” Patton and Virgil said at the same time. “Same hat!” they said, pointing at each other.

Logan laughed.

Remy walked in, and Dee wasn’t quite clinging to Remy’s legs, but he was hiding behind them. Emile’s parents were the picture perfect definition of surprised. “Oh, I think I see one more grandchild!” his dad exclaimed. “Is this Dee?”

Dee poked his head out from behind Remy and offered a wave.

“Hi, Dee,” Emile’s mother signed. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Dee offered a shy smile in return as he signed back, “Likewise.”

Both of Emile’s parents smiled as Remy gave them both glasses of water. “Here you guys go. I know you must be tired after the long drive.”

“Thank you, Remy,” Emile’s mother said, standing up and kissing Remy on the cheek.

Dee looked shocked, as did Patton and Virgil. “What, have you guys never seen positive familial affection before?” Roman asked.

“My mother would sometimes to that to me,” Logan offered. “Even if she wasn’t the greatest person in the world.”

Dee just shook his head. “Mama didn’t do that for me in ages,” he signed.

Emile just sighed. “I really wish she would have,” he said, “Because you deserve it.”

Dee came over and hugged Emile and Emile hugged him back. “I know, it’s still hard,” he murmured.

“It’s always hard,” Dee signed as he pulled back.

“I know,” Emile said softly. “But you’ll get through it. You’re one tough cookie.”

“I was overbaked?” Dee asked.

Emile laughed. “You know what I mean,” he said.

“Yeah,” Dee agreed. “But taking things literally is what I do.”

“I know it is,” Emile said. “That’s one of the symptoms of being autistic, actually.”

Dee furrowed his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Emile said. “It’s really interesting, actually. There’s many different symptoms, and people rarely have all of them, because it’s such a varied spectrum! But that’s a fairly common one!”

Dee made an interested noise in the back of his throat and grinned, his tongue pushing against his bottom teeth, making one of them shake. He jumped and felt at it in surprise.

“Ohhhh,” Patton said. “Dee, you’re starting to lose your baby teeth!”

“What?!” Dee asked in clear alarm.

“No, it’s okay, that’s normal!” Patton exclaimed, jumping off the couch and baring his teeth. “You see how some of my teeth are way bigger and some of them have gaps?”

Dee nodded.

“That’s because I lost a few of my teeth, and my adult teeth have started to grow in! It’s normal! Don’t worry, it just means you’re growing up!”

Dee’s face was shocked. He felt at his tooth. “It’s not very loose,” he signed.

“It gets looser the more your adult teeth grow in,” Patton explained. “Until eventually you can just pull it out with no pain!”

“Pull it out?” Dee asked.

“Well, yeah,” Virgil chimed in. “That’s how you make room for the adult teeth. But it’s okay! Because the Tooth Fairy comes at night and gives you money when you lose a tooth if you leave it for her!”

Dee’s eyes got really wide. “Really?!” he asked.

“Yeah!” Virgil said. “It’s been a while since I’ve lost a tooth, actually. Some of mine have to be getting loose soon.”

Emile watched the exchange fondly. His father cleared his throat. “So,” he paused for a minute, before he grinned. “Have you kids ever played a good game of badminton?”

“Dad!” Emile exclaimed with a laugh. “Are you seriously trying to convert them to sports already?!”

“Badminton can be fun,” Logan said. “It was one of the games I played to get my gym credit fulfilled in school, and I found it to be entertaining, and easy on the body.”

Emile’s dad pointed at Logan. “You. I like your style,” he said with a grin. “I brought a badminton net that we could set up in the backyard. Does that sound good? We could play a round or two.”

“Sure!” Logan agreed. “I’d have to change out of my binder, but I’d be game.”

Patton squealed and Logan cringed. “Pun not intended!” he exclaimed, pointing at Patton.

“Patton figured out what puns were in a joke book the other day, and he’s been trying to come up with them ever since,” Remy explained to Emile’s very confused parents.

“Puns are fun!” Patton exclaimed. “They’re like the kinds of jokes my friends dads would say when we’d go over to their houses to play!”

“Well, they are often called ‘Dad jokes,’” Roman said.

Patton stared at Roman in shock. “Really?!” he asked excitedly.

“Really,” Roman said with a laugh.

They all slowly moved outside, and the second Logan came out in a tank top and sports bra, Emile knew that Logan was not intent on losing against his grandfather in the game. “Logan, sunscreen!” Emile advised before Logan could get off the deck.

Logan looked at him in exasperation but obligingly sprayed sunscreen on his arms and legs, and smeared some on his face and neck. He pulled a face as he rubbed the excess sunscreen off on a napkin. “That stuff feels disgusting,” he said.

“I know, but it will help,” Emile said. “Now go on and play the one sport you find enjoyable.”

Logan gave him a smile and ran into the yard to help put up the net and grab a racket. Roman grabbed one as well, and Emile’s father did too. Remy laughed and called, “I’ll join for doubles!” taking off his jacket and donning his sunglasses, grabbing the fourth and final racket they had.

Emile’s dad teamed up with Roman and as he hit the birdie over the net, the game began. There was running and shouting and a lot of laughter, and Emile watched them with a smile on his face from the safety of the deck. Dee was playing with Vanellope, and Patton and Virgil were refereeing, which left Emile and his mom with some much needed time to catch up.

[turtleduckie]

ahhhh I love your latest piece with rhaenys being crowned queen!!! the symbolism of jon and egg crowning her, the way each brother is wearing the clothing of their respective mother's homeland while rhaenys is dressed more targ, the three dragon heads on the sword, it's absolutely gorgeous. what are your other headcanons for this au?

Thank you! I just see so many posts having Aegon VI or Jon as the true king and I'm like listen LISTEN WHAT IF Rhaenys is the true heir to the Iron Throne?? As a woman and being Dornish, she would have to face such huge obstacles, not to mention inheriting a crumbling empire (thanks dad and granddad). Wouldn't that make for an interesting story?

Ok so headcanon time. Forgive me if I have to go as far back as the Battle of the Trident. This will give important context to Rhaenys' eventual rule.

--

With Rhaegar and Robert both dead at the Battle of the Trident, it would seem like the fate of the Seven Kingdoms was a toss-up and the Iron Throne was up for grabs to whoever could secure King's Landing first. Tywin still sends his armies to KL with every intention to seize power.

Anyway so the Lannister forces are at KL and here I'm following @poorshadowspaintedqueens headcanon on how the Sack was averted: Elia kills Pycelle before he whispers to Aerys to let Tywin in, so with only Varys advising him Aerys bars entry to the capital. (On a sidenote, check out her fic False Sorrow's Eye which details the aftermath of the Battle of the Trident with both Elia and Lyanna making it out alive.) Jaime still kills Aerys but the gates KL only opens when Ned Stark and what was left of Robert's army arrives. Elia and Jaime present Aerys' corpse as a sign of goodwill, and to add to that, discloses Lyanna's location. (Elia knows, or Varys knows, you decide.)

Lyanna is still alive! The battle with the remaining Kingsguard is averted because well technically the family they're serving is still alive and Rhaegar's baby boy, Aegon VI, is declared King and Elia as Queen Regent. Ned wants to take Lyanna and baby Jon back home to Winterfell but part of the deal with Elia was to bring Lyanna back to KL for a "conversation." Ned is obviously apprehensive but he can't risk starting yet another ruckus when everything is so fragile.

So Lyanna is brought to KL and Elia asks her point-blank if she wishes for her (Lyanna) son to be king. Lyanna, who is very tired of all the pain and suffering, says no, she just wants to go home with her son and her brother Ned back to Winterfell. Elia has made her swear it in front of an audience, and additionally, made her tell the true account of her "abduction." (That is, she willingly ran away with Rhaegar but regretted it soon after, especially after her father and Brandon's deaths).

So with Aerys' death and condemnation of his actions, Elia quashes the main reason for Robert's Rebellion. And with Lyanna's confession, she also assuages the Northern lords and those who have taken as another cause to rebel Rhaegar's abduction of Lyanna--because now it would make Lyanna an easy target for blame (no matter how unfair it is).

She also frees Jaime from his Kingsguard oath which mollifies Tywin somewhat as Jaime is now once again heir to Casterly Rock. But of course Tywin being Tywin he still has some things under his sleeve.

With the rebels temporarily pacified, Elia begins consolidating power. She courts the major Houses, makes amends when she can and when she can't, she uses force. Rebellions, though nothing as major as Robert's, crop up every so often but with Ser Arthur Dayne leading most charges, they are held at bay.

(Oh and if you're wondering about Rhaella, Viserys and Daenerys, they're all alive and well. No one's dying in childbirth in this story because fuck that. Viserys isn't as crazed because his mom's alive and they're relatively well-taken care of.)

Okay so flash forward to a few years. Egg is being groomed to be the next king and you can imagine how fun that is for a little boy who loves books and songs and dance. He shares his father's bookish nature but fortunately none of his melancholy. He instead inherits his mother's liveliness and sweet, gentle nature. So in one rather frustrating episode where he is feeling so very suffocated by all these demands and rules and responsibilities, he says he doesn't want to be king.

Which made Elia, Rhaenys (who was in the room learning alongside Egg), everybody freeze.

Elia talks with him later and Egg tearfully confesses that he really really really doesn't want to be king. Then he says, "Why can't Rhae be the Queen? She's so much smarter and she's good at learning and dealing with people. And isn't she supposed to be the next in line, since she's the eldest?"

And well, that made Elia think. She tells Egg to think about all this first and they'll talk again. In the meantime, he should go to his lessons and do as he's told.

When they revisit the topic a year later, Egg's decision is still the same and Rhaenys who had been quiet about this, finally spoke up. "If Egg doesn't want to be king, then I will be Queen." To which Egg nods in agreement.

Elia studies her daughter's eyes wondering about her motivations, if there is a latent desire for power that's pushing her. But all she could see was determination. She talks with her daughter and learns that Rhaenys is determined to be queen to make sure they survive. It surprises Elia a little to know that her daughter had been very attentive to everything going on around them, how their hold on the throne was precarious, how they were surrounded by enemies, how it would take a strong, decisive leader to help them through this alive and unscathed.

So with this discovery, she makes her decision. She makes preparations and plans things carefully. Egg publicly renounces his title, making Rhaenys the heir to the Iron Throne. This was, of course, met with outcry, with some saying this was the same conflict at the heart of the Dance of Dragons come again.

Elia stands by her children's decision though it had cost them some of the support they had fought so hard to earn. Rebellions started cropping up once again with more frequency.

As soon as she was old enough to wield a true sword, Rhaneys started going into battles. Her mother begged her not to and Egg cried. But Rhaenys is very steadfast and tells them, "My people won't love me if they don't see me fighting for them."

Seeing Rhaenys' grim determination and acknowledging that their hold on the Throne is tenuous at best, Elia reluctantly lets her go. But not before ordering the Kingsguard to protect her at all cost.

Rhaenys cuts an imposing figure in battle. She has inherited her father's martial prowess and she soon makes a name for herself. She goes to many more battles and though Elia and Egg's concern never abates, they can see the effect that Rhaenys fighting and winning has on people. It helps quell the unrest throughout the kingdom though it still simmers under the surface.

Rhaenys has a complicated relationship with her mother and her dead father. She loves Elia, no doubt that about that, and respects her for all that she has done to keep them all alive. In fact, the only two people she really cares about in the world are her mother and her brother. Which was why when she became of age, she sends her mother home back to Dorne. A huge part of it is because she can see how living in KL and battling every day to keep them all alive has worn Elia down. And it breaks Rhaenys' heart and she promised that she will take on the mantle from her mother so that she can rest.

But of course, the other reason is that Rhaenys wants to prove herself different from Elia. She knew that she was being constantly compared to her mother and not in a good way. She knows that the other people are wrong but knowing that doesn't change their opinion of her. And so, for better or for ill, she leans heavily on her Targaryen heritage to remind them all she is still a Targaryen though she may look like a Martell. She wears black and red and always with the Targaryen sigil displayed prominently.

Rhaenys knows of how her father humiliated her mother, first at the Tourney of Harrenhall and then when he ran off with Lyanna Stark just after her mother gave birth to Egg. She hates him for it, hates him for his weakness and how he never stood up to his father, but most of all, she hates him because he's dead and that she misses him still in spite of everything. She remembers how he carried her in his arms and how he would tell her tales of the dragons of old. She loved him, maybe she loves him still even as she hates him now.

On the eve of her coronation, in a rare moment of doubt, Rhaenys goes to her mother and tells her of her fears.

"I need to be ten times the man that father was," Rhaenys rests her head against her mother's chest, much like she did when she was younger.

"That's admittedly a low bar," Elia quipped with a faint smile. It drew an answering smile from her daughter and Elia held her tighter. "You are descended from Aegon the Conqueror, who subjugated the six kingdoms. But in your veins also flow the blood of Queen Nymeria the Unconquered, the one ruler that Aegon and his sisters couldn't make to bow, bend or break.

You are both the Conqueror and the Unconquered and you will be able to accomplish things greater than both of them. You are the blood of Old Valyria and of Mother Rhoyne."

Rhaenys looks up at her mother who then presses a kiss on her forehead. "You are Rhaenys, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

[xsuperhero-expertx]

Thunderstorm Sadness

So I saw a one line promt list and decided to get one shot ideas from it bc writers block and I wanna start writing more.😕

Warnings: language: storms: anxiety: animal cruelty (not in a weird way. Malachai stabs an animal) it’s for the sake of the fic I’m sorry.

(A/n this is before Toni and Cheryl got a thing going on)

Y/n =Your Name Y/n/n= Your NickName

Promt: “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

—

Hanging out at my trailer with Sweet Pea, Fangs and Toni is always fun. Always.

Tonight is so exception. We’re all unwinding and coming down from the stressful week of work/school

So Friday night trudition is to hang out at whomevers trailer and play games, watch movies, eat a shit ton of unhealthy foods, and drink.

Playing truth or dare or always a strange thing. The way we play is if you don’t do the dare you lose an article of clothing. If you do the dare you can either put an article of clothing back on that you lost, or you can make another player lose an article of clothing. (Serpent jackets don’t count)

And that’s how we’re in our current situation. Sitting in a cirlcle in the middle of the living room. Fangs is in his underwear, Sweet Pea is only in jeans, Toni is fully clothed, and I lost my bra. I decided to take it off out from under my shirt to make things interesting. It gets boring playing the same way every week. All week long we all discuss and think of new questions/ dares to use during the game.

Sweet pea: “Y/n, Truth or dare?”

Y/n “Truth”

Sweet pea: “Is it true you’re related to Malachai?”

Y/n: “Yes” “Moving on. Toni, Truth or dare?”

Toni: “Dare”

Y/n: “I dare you to text Cheryl and confess your feelings for her”

Toni: “I’m taking my shirt off”

Y/n :”finee” you whine “When will you just tell her?!”

Toni: “When I’m ready.” “Next question. Sweet Pea Truth or Dare?”

Sweet Pea: “Dare”

Toni: “I dare you to tell us who your crush is”

Sweet Pea: “Jesus, Toni what is this? Are we in the fifth grade?” Sweet Pea rolls his eyes.

Thunder crashes outside and the lights go out

Fangs screams like a little girl and hops into Toni’s lap.

Sweets: “Well..” “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

Y/n pushes herself back until her back is flushed against the front of the couch. She brings her knees up to her chest and buries her face in them.

Sweet Pea pulls out his zippo lighter and flicks it open.

“Yo Y/n, you got any candles or flashlights?”

“In the drawer beside the oven”

“Thanks” he mumbles quietly headed to the kitchen to find the candles.

Toni: “You alright Y/n?”

Y/n: “Yeah I’m fine”

Sweet pea re-enters the room and sets the already lit candles upon the coffee table.

Pea: “You guy’s alright?”

Y/n “I’m fine”

Toni “Me too”

Fangs just hums in agreement

It thunders again, a flash of lightning lights up the window causing Y/n to flinch and hold onto her legs tighter.

Pea: “Y/n/n, You sure you’re alright?”

Y/n: “Yeah. I’m gonna go change into sweatpants I’ll be back in a minute”

Getting up and walking into her bedroom Y/n sets on the end of the beds and lets the tears fall from her eyes. She’s always hated thunderstorms. Ever since she was a kid. She couldn’t stand them. But her fear got worse when her step brother framed her for something she didn’t do, her father kicked her out. In the middle of a thunderstorm with no where to go. A backpack full of her essentials and valuable things to her. Her mother was long gone. Went to go live with her side boyfriend mark in New York.

Flashback:

Having nowhere to go she wandered around the Southside in the dark. Walking past the wyrm, she thought about going in. Walking past it, being taught to never go there is what keeps replaying in her head. “The serpents are bad people and you never ever go on serpent territory, you hear me?!” Her father yells in her face, when finding out her best friend lives in sunnyside trailer park. She was 10. Her best friend being Toni Topaz granddaughter of a Serpent made things worse. Being kicked out at 15 was difficult. Changing her mind she walked back towards the wyrm and decided to seek shelter from the storm there. Walking in she noticed Toni and her Granddad. Both clad in serpent jackets laughing and having a good time. Nobody noticing her. Leaving her backpack outside the door under the roof of the porch makes it easier to move around and seemingly being undetected. Trying to weasel her way to Toni someone stops her. “Look! Someone who isn’t a Serpent is on serpent land” “What should we do with this one?!” tell boy yells. “Nothing” FP says venom lacing his voice. He recognized her as Toni and Jugheads friend. Toni now realizing who it is rushed to her side. “Y/n?! What are you doing here?! I thought your dad told you to never step foot in any part of serpent territory? That’s why you could never come visit.” “That’s why you should never come visit!”

“Yeah Tone. He said that. He also said about an hour ago that I’m a disgrace to my family and I am never to be seen again.”

“And that if I ever show my face at their door again they’ll end me.” She lets out a shaky sob. “Malachai framed me! He put a fucking dead animal in the yard that was stabbed to death and had a knife in it. He told dad it was me. He framed me! And my dad, MY OWN DAD. He believed him” she sobs. “He believed Malachai over me” she falls into Toni’s arms.

—

Sweet Pea knocks on Y/n’s door. “You alright Y/n/n? You’ve been in there a while.”

“Y-yeah” Y/n says. Her voice being shakey and cracking unintentionally.

“No you’re not. I’m coming in.”

He opens the door to see her setting on the bed against the headboard. Hugging the pillow against her chest so tight it’s making her arms ache.

“Y/n” Pea says softly. “What happened?”

“I’m fine, Pea. Really.”

“Okay.” He holds his hands up in surrender “I know you’re not okay. But I won’t push it. You need a hug?” Sweet Pea never hugs anyone. Ever.

She looks extremely shocked. But she throws herself into his arms anyway. He sets down on the edge of the bed. Her in his lap. One hand playing with her hair, the other rubbing her back.

“It’s okay Y/n” “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

She takes a deep breath. “I-i hate thunderstorm so much Pea. I always have. Everything is piling on top of me now. You mentioning I’m related to Malachai. The thunderstorm. I dreamt about the memory of being kicked out last night. It’s all piling on top Pea. And I just crumbled under the weight” She sobs “Malachai is my step brother. He framed me for torturing and killing an animal. Which then caused my father to kick me out at the age of 15. During a fucking thunderstorm. I ended up in the Wyrm.” “That’s how I became a Serpent”

“Oh.” Sweet Pea breathes out. “If I had known. I wouldn’t have mentioned his name. I’m so sorry Y/n”

“It’s fine Pea really”

“Y/n” Pea whispers. “If it’s any consolation, my crush. Is you.” He rests his forehead against hers. “Wasn’t plannin’ on saying anything but I thought it’d make you feel better.”

“It isn’t a hint to something more. I’m not pushing it or anything. I’m just. I just. Jesus.” He takes a deep breath. “I just want-“

“Oh shut up and kiss me Pea”

Within a split second his lips were on hers. Not rushed, or needy. Just passionate and gentle. Nothing you’d expect from the infamous Sweet Pea.

“I think I’m starting to fall in love with you Y/n”

“I’ve been in love with you Sweet Pea”

[aquapen]

Well, so, how would gohan be like if his parents were Bulma and goku, would he still be a big nerd, or will he change a lot?

Oh, this ishard!

I guess Ishould probably say that I read most of the Z portion of Dragon Ball as somesort of coming-of-age tale for Gohan - the little insecure kid with boundlesspotential that eventually conquers himself with a little help from his friendsand family. Despite the silly humor (that of course I enjoy) I’ve alwaysregarded Dragon Ball as an actually very soulful piece, or else we wouldn’t behere discussing it more than twenty years after the finale. (Dragon Ball Super doesn’texist in my little world and, to some extent, neither does the Buu Saga). 

Allof this to say that I just love Gohan’s character the way it is, and that Ican’t think of many different ways to portray him that would give us an emotionalpayoff worthy of the one we had at the end of the Cell Games!

I oftenhear that, with Bulma as his mom, Gohan would lose his gentle nature, that hewould love fighting as much as Goku does and that he would be stronger than hiscanon self because Bulma would totally let the kid train from a very young age.I don’t think that’s the case, but most of all I don’t think it should be the case! Imean, I would never be interested in the story of a boy who’s superstrong, super smart and super accomplished right from the beginning!

What I’msaying is that I would not change Gohan’s inherent traits – of course, growingup at Capsule Corp as opposed to Mount Paozu would give him the opportunity toexperience a much more ordinary childhood – he would go to a public school andlove it there, have friends his own age, help his granddad in taking care ofthe animals, you name it. Oh, and his grandparents would spoil him to death!

Bulmawould let Goku try and train Gohan in the martial arts but Gohan would be likethat’s nice and all dad, but can I go help mom in the laboratory now? Heactively chooses that he likes maths and homework more than he likes learningkata with his dad and Bulma’s like suck it up Goku, I win! And Goku’s like Ireaaally can’t believe this is happening! That’s all very lighthearted – Gohancan do as he wants and is very much loved… but he’s also the child of two outstandingparents: a genius and the strongest in the world (so far) and that, I believe, caninadvertently do things to a child’s psyche. It could be an interesting (if alittle bit dark) take on Gohan’s insecurities. 

Also, he would be much more exposedto Krillin, Master Roshi and the rest of the gang because I don’t see Bulma andGoku living in total isolation, so he would probably overhear a comment ortwo about how hilarious and weird it is that Goku’s kid isn’t into fighting –meaningless observations with no intent to harm, but he takes them to heart.

He couldfeel like he’s not meeting people’s expectations and so at first he could befueled by the desire to make those around him proud. But if I’ve learned somethingin this life, is that you can’t do what you think others want you to do – you’llnever succeed, there will always be something holding you back.  Soooo – only when he finally understands thathis parents will be proud of him no matter what and that he has the power toliterally fight the good fight and protect the world that he loves, and that hewants to do it – only then he’s gonnakick asses!

Does any of this make sense?

Probablynot!

[moonmothmama]

ok. so. The Princess Bride. i read it yesterday.

and right up front, before even a review, i’m gonna go ahead and list everything objectionable in the book that i can recall. please don’t take the length of the bullet pointed items to follow as an indication that the book was wildly problematic and offended me at every turn; it wasn’t and it didn’t. but there were some things that made me go: 😑 or 😒, and here it all is, presented with context, before anything else, because to be honest, i didn’t expect any of it. the film is relatively spotless, which is pretty rare for that era, and if any of you are thinking of reading it, you could do with being more prepared for this than i was.

first off, racism. two passing remarks. one isn’t even in the story proper; it’s in the first whole long intro bit from the author/narrator. that takes some explanation, i suppose: like in the film, the story is presented as a book having been written by “S. Morganstern,” except instead of a grandfather reading to his sick grandson, the narrator is interjecting with notes on the original text that he has abridged. the beginning is a whole long shpiel that, in my opinion, could have been significantly pared down with absolutely zero loss to the story (which! hey! the film did perfectly! go figure!). anyway, the first racist remark is an absolutely tasteless line in which the narrator pisses and moans about his fat son, making a crack about “painting him yellow” and making him a sumo wrestler. y i k e. the other passing remark is from Miracle Max (really, truly, the film version of this scene is miles better than the book version, but contains an important plot detail, so you should prob still read it, but i’ll give you the lowdown if you wanna skip). he refers to Iñigo as a sp*ck (rather bafflingly, i might add, bc Iñigo is a Spanish man... from Spain... not a Hispanic or Latino man from Latin America. so. i mean i’m certainly not an expert on slurs but... i have never in my life heard that term in reference to a person from Spain, and am virtually certain it was invented to refer to ppl from the americas) and in the same breath uses an objectionable term for a Polish person. sooo... again: y i k e. what gets me is that... these could’ve just been edited out? why weren’t they? i mean i know why but

fat shaming! see above. though to be honest, any true negativity about fatness is restricted to the author/narrator’s interjections; there are a few minor fat characters in the story and those depictions, without being too long-winded or spoilery, didn’t offend me (fyi: i’m fat). if you want the details, please feel free to message me about it.

if we can go back to the whole long beginning shpiel from the author/narrator, it’s just... eh. he comes off as kind of a jackass, tbh. not even halfway through it i found myself more than a little impatient for the story to begin, and that could be at least partly because the film spoiled me with a lovely, not annoying, not problematic scene of Granddad Columbo reading to Baby Fred Savage where no one made any racist remarks or ragged on fat kids. the basic gist, if you want to skip it, is that the author, as a kid, had this book read to HIM by his father, who was a Florinese immigrant, and nearly illiterate in English, but still labored over reading the English translation to his American-born son, who adored the book and requested it read to him dozens and dozens of times over the years, refusing to read it himself (though he read plenty of other books). as an adult, he buys his son the book, and is crushed when the son doesn’t like it. he then reads it for the first time, and realizes his father skipped over huge, boring blocks of text. he read his son only The Good Parts. so he decides to edit that shit out himself and release the abridged version he loves so much. add into that some complaining about his wife and some extra blah blah, and that’s pretty much it.

you remember the scene in the movie where The Man In Black/Westley almost slaps Buttercup for what he believes is lying? in the book he actually slaps her. not that his actions seem supported or endorsed by the text, but still, there you are. Buttercup does push him off a cliff soon after, though, so. i wouldn’t call that ‘even’ exactly but, shrug

Vizzini, in the book, has a fucky leg and his back isn’t quite straight, and he’s referred to repeatedly as a “humpback” or “hunchback” which needless to say is Not Kosher

that, as i recall, is it. i hope i’m not forgetting anything. now onto content/trigger warnings:

alcoholism. this shouldn’t be a surprise if you’ve seen the movie: Iñigo has some, shall we say, issues

Fezzik’s parents were... terrible. CPS would be all over them. spoiler: basically they emotionally blackmailed their son into fighting professionally, which they knew he hated, by telling him they’d abandon him if he didn’t

Buttercup has some kinda messed up (read: unsettling but in no way graphic) nightmares after leaving Westley when they’re found by Prince Humperdinck at the Fire Swamp, mostly involving bearing children to the Prince who she once again is set to marry

the slurs and whatnot i mentioned above

violence, obviously. nothing worse than the film as i recall.

that’s it i think. 

okay. all that said. did i enjoy the book? yes i did. a lot.

now, you might be thinking: jesus, Kathleen, after all the shit you just listed? and to this i reply: listen. there is no Unproblematic Media, so you either enjoy some things that are flawed, or you enjoy nothing at all. there is plenty of objectionable shit in Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit! fucking plenty! and i love those books! and so do plenty of other people! in my own humble opinion, the good story is worth the shitty bits, because the shitty bits aren’t like, fundamental to the plotline. the story isn’t built on offensive humor or nasty, bigoted attitudes. and they’re also not the most egregious examples of Objectionable Content i’ve come across- not by a longshot. there are levels to offense. there are tiers of bullshit. this is on a far lower tier than a whole host of other things i could mention. but if any of this stuff i’ve listed crosses a line for you, i totally understand and respect that. that’s why i’ve bothered to list it at all. imo, how you respond to objectionable content is important: you don’t ignore it or excuse it, you acknowledge and criticize it. and if you still enjoy whatever the thing is, you allow yourself to enjoy it, without getting hissy or defensive with people for whom the objectionable content ruined the book/movie/whatever. 

there you go, there’s my disclaimer for having enjoyed the book. your mileage may vary.

okay. so. review time.

Buttercup is a far more interesting character in the book than the movie, for which the movie can’t be faulted all that much, because you can’t easily translate a character’s inner monologue/unspoken thoughts to the screen, especially not with the time limit that comes with the medium of film. but watching her struggle with her feelings and life choices (and... lack thereof, since her choice is between marrying the prince and being put to death, which isn’t much of a choice, even if she tries to reason it out later by telling herself she COULD have said no... and initially did) creates far more of a bond between her and the reader in the book than, personally, i felt watching the movie. also she has a great line after Westley calls her beautiful at their reunion- she says something like, ‘everyone’s always calling me beautiful, i have a mind too, why don’t you talk about that’

Both Westley and Buttercup are immature, naive, and foolish in the beginning, and if Westley strikes you as Extra Dickish, a) rewatch the film! he did act like a bit of a dick, there, didn’t he? b) remember that in the story he’s a young man between the ages of eighteen and twenty five, which in my considerable experience is the age at which young men are generally at their peak of Asshole. sorry dudes

and not that Buttercup herself is a complete peach! she deals very poorly with her emotions in general and acts kinda shitty herself once or twice. i won’t say too much lest i spoil everything that’s different between the film and the book.

Prince Humperdinck is also a more three dimensional character; still a rat bastard tho.

onto Fezzik and Iñigo.

as i have said in other blog posts, these boys are... pretty much the whole reason i sought out the book. and... jesus. 

you get all the way into the tragic backstories that were only hinted at in the film. okay, Iñigo’s backstory was more than hinted- but of course you go so much deeper in the book- and Fezzik’s was less than hinted, reduced mostly to a peek at the insecurity that Vizzini exploits and preys upon to keep him in line. not that you’d have to expend a great effort to him to keep him in line; his personality is docile and non-confrontational. truly not the slightest bit aggressive by nature. he’s also kinda clingy and needy, which is a thousand percent understandable given his childhood, and tbqh doesn’t need to be browbeaten for Vizzini to keep him on his short, cruel leash. which makes it all the more painful! hurrah! 😭

also you actually get to meet Iñigo’s father, Domingo Montoya, in a flashback, aaaand... i kinda love him. probably predictable if you know me.

anyway. tragic backstories. which further illuminate the emotional and psychological issues that make them so dependent on Vizzini, and turn them to lives of crime in his employ. poor boys! oy gevalt. sympathy abounds; i honestly don’t know how you could go through the book and not fall at least a little bit in love with this duo, whose friendship is precious and adorable and a balm to the soul that is aching from their painful life stories and unhealthy coping mechanisms. they’re each, very plainly, the only friend the other has in the world, and are constantly helping and bolstering one another. it’s heartbreakingly sweet. i think those boys will be alright as long as they stick together.

and now, the repeated theme of the book, that is presented with far less intensity in the film: life isn’t fair. which, one supposes, is true. but while the narrator’s framing of that assertion may give you the same misgivings they gave me- bitching about his fat son and his less than ideal relationship with his wife- you can also step back and appreciate it as a wee pearl of wisdom. life is often unfair, but that doesn’t mean it’s altogether bad or that you can’t enjoy it. idk, that’s my attitude, man. 

i could talk about the ending here, but i won’t. at least not too much. not to spoiler-ish-ly. if you don’t want to know anything about the book’s ending at all, feel free to not read the last bit here, except for the very last lines which are bolded.

ready? yes? no?

...

the ending to the book is different than the movie. there is a more philosophical, open ended conclusion than you could really get away with in a movie. at least this movie.

just throwing it out there: i believe in happy endings. ones in real life. but i kind of disagree with the author a little bit, in that i don’t think happy endings necessarily have to be perfect and unblemished to qualify as happy endings. that may be the way “happily ever after” is generally presented, but to me, “happily ever after” means, maybe some shit happened, but none of it was completely devastating, and in the final analysis, life was satisfying. that’s the kind of real life happy ending i’m aiming (and hoping) for. this might sound vague but i hope it’ll make sense if you read the book.

if you wanna do that, btw, i read it for free online at allnovel dot net.

[rhapsodyq]

I’m finally going to my third year, so yayy I guess?

Okay, so I’m back here after a span of like 6 months? It’s been a long time. Things weren’t exactly smooth sailing either. Honestly, it was kinda remarkable then I went through all of it. If you asked me to go through that all over again, I wouldn’t be sure if I coulda.

So, when I recovered from my food poisoning from Croatia, I’ve managed to enjoyed life for a bit. Later, granddad passed away. I fell sick again during one of these days. It must have been some expired ham that I cooked for myself or something, idk. It was bad. Real bad. I remember spending 23 hours lying in bed per day and I was bed-ridden for like 2 weeks. It was not so much of the diarrhoea and vomiting, but the fever and the weakness etc. When the doctor told me he needed me to go down to A&E cos the fever couldn’t go down--something just snapped I think. My fear, ya know. I just got up, tried to do things normally and I recovered. 

However, as my illness recovered, my eyes condition went for the worse. One of my eyes was seeing things blurry. It got really bad--that I was constantly frustrated and could hardly read or use the laptop/ps4 etc. This issue stuck with me till the first two weeks of school--and holy hell it was bad. Imagine reading with a blurred eyesight. Also almost fell to my death from the school staircase. Couldn't read order food cause I can’t see shit. Sense of perception was totally distorted. Basically couldn’t enjoy anything in life.

I wasn’t too worried because this had had happened before--I knew all I had to do is to just go back to NUH and probably get some eye steroids. But deep down, there was this fear within me that my eyesight could stay like this forever. You know, like a permanently scarred cornea or something. 

I stumbled through the first two weeks of reading and classes feeling extremely down and insecure. Managed to get an appointment in the second week or something. The eye steroids took some time to actually work. It worried me a little cause the effects weren’t as fast as the last time. But yeah. I got my full eyesight back. I am forever grateful for this. 

So, I felt very afraid cause I was picking level 2000 mods. I’ve also picked up Social Work as an unrestricted elective--but I dropped it after attending the first lecture. It just seems like the whole “nice, caring, wonderful world” thing doesn't stick with me, so. Anyway, I’m just gonna dive in to the modules straight.

GES1005:

My last module for my 5 pillars. I’ve enjoyed GEH1004 immensely last term, so I thought this would be similar. It was, in certain ways. Extremely chill mod. However, the lectures were incredibly boring. The Caucasian prof just talked and talked his grandfather’s stories, and basically there was no point given. Nevertheless, I only skipped on one of the lectures and attended the rest in full. I went though a lot to shake off my rebel-punk persona in my life, so I didn’t want to return to that yeah. 

Tutorials were slightly more interesting to me. The TA was nice, and we had to get participation points for talking--fine with me, so. Also had a few response papers--also not too difficult. 

Group project was okay. Went down to a certain Huiguan, collected info, did presentation. Did a group report few weeks later. As usual, members who practically don’t give a damn, had to cover their asses. The girls were nice--just that they could be a little too critical on my writing style and honestly it stressed me out a little. 

Picked a lot of info needed for the group report via the Huiguan’s Facebook, then “salt-bae” in a little moral learning points. That’s it. I’ve aced the module. It was not hard. But did I enjoy it? Not really, but I am really not complaining.

Also, met my friend in FAS2 in this class. We attended some lectures together, hung out abit. But you know, the usual me. Incapability to develop emotion bonds with people. It was difficult. And I guess they kinda saw through me you know--that I wasn’t too keen on making lasting friendships. I feel bad. I feel guilty. They were nice people, after all. 

SC2101:

Dread. Full of dread before I took this module. It was a compulsory mod, so no way I coulda avoid this. My last experiences with a stats mod didn’t go well, so yeah, dread. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as I’ve expected. The prof was a super nice and enthusiastic lady. I loved her. The content was a little dry--found myself drifting off sometimes. There was textbook chapters to read for each week and as usual like every other FASS student---I couldn’t really keep it up, though initially I did it pretty well. 

Tutorials was okay, TA was nice. She remembered me even though I was super quiet in class. I guess it was the tutorial ballot form thing. So she basically went though what the prof did in summary. We also had two projects -- one is to interview people, the other is the goddamn stats. Yes. I was really into the interview assignment, and yeah I placed loads of efforts into it. I had the advantage of time (recess week etc), made loads of editing and rewriting. Got a good solid A. Thank god. The other stats was to be done in groups of two, assigned group members. Honestly, it was hilarious cause I was reminded of my IDC days. Computers, really not for me man. I was lucky to have a good teammate. But yeah. Stumbled through a little, but it was still okay in the end.

SC2216:

So, here we are. The notorious prof George--could kill you, fuck you up, make you cry for days. He’s actually a nice prof in real life--one of the nicest but somehow he leaves no mercy when marks the assignments, leaving us all dead. 

Loved his lectures, the lectures never fail to captivate me. Introducing Doctor Who on the first was a green flag for me etc. However, I’ve never really saw the “point” of all of his lectures. It’s just something really different from the usual sociology, you know. Like hell, how we gonna change the world with emotions even? But yeah, I eventually came to realise there’s just something so powerful about emotions, but people often tend to downplay that. 

Tutorials were extremely stressful for me personally. There’s this big thing on class participation, and the questions are randomly assigned. So basically, you have to prepare to answer the entire paper of questions before you come to class. But again, he doesn’t go too hard on us like how he marks the papers, so yeah. 

Term papers. They stressed me out a lot, honestly. I scored badly for the first two despite pouring all my efforts and time on it. It’s really demoralizing. It’s kinda of a response paper things--and I’m obviously not someone who’s really articulate at expressing their emotions, so disadvantage kinda. The third paper was about politics in Singapore---which I had a lot data and info on due to the Singapore Studies module I took. And guess what, I got a damn A for it. I was so happy that I almost cried. It was like finally getting approval from your parents whom never loved you, LOL.  

SC2206:

This module was okay, I guess? It wasn’t exactly hard, but it wasn’t easy either. The prof was from China, and at times I had problems understanding his accent. The content in this module was really abstract, not like the emotions mod one. So, at times I was completely lost. Lectures were dry and boring at times, but there’s practically no choice because attendance was counted. Yeah, his classes reminded me on Tenzin’s classes. Not big on the language, but heavy on the content. Opposite of SC2216. 

Tutorials were a breeze, really. It’s just basically sitting through other people’s presentation. I was sipping on my ice coffee throughout the tutorials, and trying to find chances to say something useful (for class participation)--but yeah in the end I didn’t talk much. Maybe deep down I was not much a learned person or something. 

Readings were not as hard as the ones Tenzin gave in previous sems--they were actually kinda interesting. But grasping the point from it was difficult at times. 

Group project. So for some reason, people taking this module don’t hang out in cliques. We all sat individually and were all kinda shy. I guess it made working together hard--cos ain’t nobody cared about each other. The guy I worked with ghosted on me the last minute--and I had to cover this part by staying up till wee hours of the morning. Then next day he turns up, with his own part done. What an asshole seriously.

So, in all. I don’t know how I’ve managed to survive this semester. I don’t know I could have done it if you made me go through it all over again. Yep, so I think I deserved some sort of pat at my own shoulder, plus some pizza and cookies for it, really. 

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Thirty One

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

February 1st, 2019

Patton wished, not for the first time, that he could just escape this house and never return. He loved his mom, honestly, he did. But Charles made loving her feel hard. Because she always sided with him and that meant he and Virgil were always the troublemakers, even when Charles provoked them.

Granny was calling their mom over and over, asking for help or something, and Mom didn’t want to help. Charles kept telling her to ignore Granny and she’d go away, but he knew Mom felt guilty about it. And as such, she was much quicker to get angry, to get upset, to point fingers.

Patton knew that Granny needed help, and he didn’t understand why Mom wouldn’t help her. After all, didn’t family help each other when they were in trouble?

July 14th, 2019

Patton was absolutely delighted that Dad’s parents, his grandma and granddad, were staying for the weekend. It had been ages since he had seen Granny, even though she wrote them when she could, it was hard with their mom pestering her for Patton and Virgil’s location. And to have two grandparents from one parent, well! That was really cool!

They talked a lot, mostly asking questions to him and his brothers to get to know them. But sometimes they’d talk beyond small stuff, and let Patton talk about Legos, or Virgil about the Goosebumps books that he loved. And when Logan talked about Jack and his other friends, he’d get this spark in his eye that made him look truly alive. Even Dee got to talk about snakes. The only one who didn’t speak much was Roman. He sat in a corner of the living room, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. “What about you, Roman?” Granddad asked. “Is there anything you really like?”

Roman ducked his head. “I like fairy tales, and theatre,” he muttered.

Logan’s head snapped up from his phone. “Wait, you’re going into eighth grade! You’re going to my high school after this school year!”

Roman looked confused. “Yes?” he said, phrasing it like a question.

“Our after-school drama club is unbelievable!” Logan said. “I’ve worked tech on stuff when the sound booth has issues, and watching those kids act? It’s amazing. You should try out for the fall play, you’d love it!”

Roman looked vaguely interested, but uncertain. “You sure? I probably wouldn’t get that good a part...even if I do well in the middle school play this year...”

“No, that’s the best part of this whole thing!” Logan exclaimed. “There’s two sets of actors! The actual people, and then their understudies. And if nothing happens to the main actors, the understudies still get to have a part, because the school rotates who plays what show on what days! So you might not get to do the Friday night show, but you could always do the Saturday matineé!”

Roman’s lips twitched into a smile. “That sounds nice,” he admitted.

“It’s super fun,” Logan said. “All my friends try to get me to perform, though I prefer helping the techs. Too much attention on me makes me stressed.”

“I can understand that,” Roman said.

“Most people don’t,” Logan replied, “So I thank you for trying to empathize.”

Patton shot his hand up and asked, “Do you know what play they’re doing?”

“Not yet,” Logan said. “Usually they don’t announce that until the beginning of the school year.”

“Oh,” Patton deflated a little. “I was hoping that I could figure out what the play was so I could help somehow.”

“Well, we could always make our own play,” Logan said with a shrug.

Patton blinked, trying to make sense of that sentence. “We can?”

Logan nodded. “I know how to write screenplays, it can be done.”

Patton grinned. That sounded amazing! “Can we do it today?”

“I don’t see why not, provided Grandma and Granddad are okay with it,” Logan said, looking to their grandparents.

“I have one condition for you five working on a play,” Grandma said with a smile. “I want you to work on it here, so your grandfather and I can see your creativity at work.”

“I have another condition,” Granddad said. “I want to see the play when it’s done, even if it’s just a silly videotape that your dad sends us.”

Patton jumped up and down and looked to Logan hopefully. “Can we work on it now?”

Logan looked a little exasperated but chuckled all the same. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll grab the laptop.”

The laptop was a recent gift from Dad and Ami to Roman and Logan, informing them that they could only afford one laptop at the moment, but if the boys shared well enough there could be a second one in the near future. If Patton was lucky, and Logan and Roman had finished whatever work they were doing, he’d sometimes get to play games with Virgil on it.

Logan left the room quickly and Patton bounced where he stood. Writing a play would be so cool! He couldn’t wait to see what happened!

When Logan returned everyone started talking. “We need a concept for the plot,” Logan said.

“We need to figure out who everyone will be in the characters!” Roman said.

“I think we should figure out a setting first,” Virgil volunteered.

Patton watched as the three of them talked over each other, until Dee jumped on the table and waved his hands like crazy. Everyone turned to look at him and he signed, “One thing at a time.”

“Dee’s right,” Patton said. “What should we start with?”

Logan, Roman, and Virgil each said what they were saying before, at the exact same time. Patton frowned and looked at Dee. He had no idea how to solve the problem of everyone wanting their way to be the right way. Suddenly, it struck him. “Why not figure out a theme?” Patton asked. “If we can figure out a theme, then we can figure out the other three things faster!”

The three stared at him, until Logan laughed and tweaked his glasses. “You’re pretty smart, Patton. Okay. What should our theme be?”

“I vote family!” Roman exclaimed. “We could make a play about our stories!”

“Or we could do something where a family fights dragons or aliens!” Virgil said.

“Why not both?” Patton asked. “Brothers who were separated because they’d be too powerful together, and they find out about each other and save the world!”

“That sounds so cool!” Virgil exclaimed.

Dee clapped his hands and grinned.

Roman clapped Patton’s back. “That’s not a half-bad idea, kid!”

Logan thought about it, and nodded. “Okay, I can work with that.”

They all sat down on the floor and suggested ideas, which Logan would dutifully write down on the computer. Patton noticed their grandparents whispering to each other, but they were smiling, so he didn’t think too much of it.

It had to have been hours that they worked, deciding to go with Patton’s idea and then starting to write a story. Roman came up with the biggest ideas, which Virgil would point out might be a bit too complex for them to pull off, and Logan would scale them down to manageable size. Dee would occasionally add his two cents to what they were doing, but was mostly happy if he could play an antihero, to use Logan’s words.

When they finally stopped, it was because Dad and Ami came into the room asking where everyone was, because they had called that dinner was ready and none of them had heard it. Roman promptly answered, “We were fighting aliens in the play we’re writing,” and left it at that, as if that explained everything.

“Right...” Dad said, glancing at Ami. “Regardless, dinner is ready. We should eat it before it gets cold.”

They all went into the dining room and slowly started eating. “So, can we get context for this play?” Dad asked.

“We were talking to our grandsons about what they liked to do, and Roman brought up the fact that he enjoyed theatre. Logan said that he liked the theatre group at their high school, and when Patton asked if he knew what the play would be this upcoming year, Logan said no, but they could make their own,” Grandma summarized. “And these boys are amazing, Emile! They were all so creative, figuring out what to write and how to scale it down to something they could do with five actors! You never told us that they were so smart!”

Patton blushed a little and all his brothers were also in varying stages of embarrassment. “It’s not such a big deal,” Roman protested weakly. “I create crazy stories all the time.”

“And I’m usually the one who drags him back down to Earth,” Logan said.

“I was just trying to be realistic with what we could do,” Virgil said.

Patton shrugged. “I think it’s kinda a big deal, if only because usually the five of us don’t all work together like that.”

“But the fact that you don’t see it as a big deal means that you are talented,” Granddad said. “I would go so far as to say extremely gifted.”

“No way,” Roman said, scratching the back of his neck, as Logan tried to not choke on the water he was drinking. Virgil looked like he had just swallowed a frog.

“The boys still aren’t used to high praise,” Ami said, looking extremely amused. “No matter how many times we compliment them, they try to play it off. I don’t think you’re gonna be successful in getting them to accept your words, Dad. Much as you try.”

“Think I’ll have better luck?” Grandma asked.

“No,” Patton said. “I don’t think the others will be convinced that what they’re doing is a big deal, at least not for a long time.”

“But you disagree?” Grandma asked.

Patton shrugged. “I don’t think it’s as big a deal as you’re making it, but it’s not nothing, either.”

Grandma grinned. “You’re the mediator of the group, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Patton said. “Usually I just say something ridiculous enough to get Logan and Roman to stop arguing, but sometimes I actually add my opinions.”

Everyone continued to playfully argue about whether or not the play was a big deal, long after dinner. When Dee started yawning, Dad took him upstairs to get ready for bed. When he came back downstairs, Granddad haltingly signed, “Can I hug you?”

Dee looked surprised briefly before he nodded.

Granddad smiled and hugged Dee gently, and Grandma kissed his forehead when Granddad retreated to the couch. Dee walked up the stairs to his room, looking dazed and shell-shocked.

Patton glanced at Virgil, who was reading a Goosebumps book. “Do you think they’re gonna do that to everyone?” he asked.

“Everyone who accepts it,” Virgil said. “They’re leaving early tomorrow morning, so they’re saying goodbye now.”

“Oh,” Patton said. “You know, Granny would hug us goodnight, but Mom didn’t do that for a while before we ran away.”

“I know,” Virgil said. “I was there too. It’s nice to have people who care, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Patton said softly. “It’s weird, but it’s nice.”

Virgil looked over at Patton from his book, and Patton was surprised to see the amused smirk on Virgil’s face. Virgil almost never was this expressive with Mom, and it still shocked him to see Virgil come out of his shell. “You say that a lot. Things are always weird but nice to you.”

Patton shrugged. “Maybe one day it’ll stop feeling weird, but today’s not that day.”

Virgil shook his head and sighed. “Yeah, I get that feeling a lot, too.”

They shared a smile before Virgil went back to reading and Patton continued to listen to Dad and Ami talking to Grandma and Granddad about everything that had happened over the past few months.

Patton stretched and yawned, and hopped off the couch, gathering the attention of all the adults. “I’m gonna get ready for bed,” he announced. “I’m kinda tired.”

“Can I get a hug before you go upstairs?” Granddad asked.

Patton nodded and walked over, hugging Granddad tight. He smelled like wood shavings, and Patton wondered if he did any woodworking in his spare time.

When Granddad let him go, Grandma kissed him on the forehead too, and Patton giggled. “I like you both a lot,” he said.

“We’re honored to hear that, Patton,” Grandma said. “Go ahead and get ready for bed, we’ll see you soon.”

Patton smiled and nodded, and headed upstairs. He was grinning the second he was out of sight. Grandma and Granddad were super nice, and he hoped that he’d get to see them again soon. When he was around them, he felt truly loved, which meant he could add two more people to the list of people he had as good people in his head. He couldn’t wait until that list was too long to remember.

[top1course]

The Four Money Beliefs That Are Holding You Back Financially – Millionaire Mindset Ep. 2

To talk about this ball for, inner conflicts, turn a holding most people back, the four common, in a conflict the holy ghost people back, number one, negative association with money and wealth, negative association with my wealth, when you’re growing up, what are some of the negative association and statement that you hear when we when you’re growing up, money can’t buy happiness yes, if the money doesn’t grow on trees yes, money is the root of all good, negative associations money what, money will change you okay good, money will make you a bad person if you want money your greedy, which people are evil yes, so if you truly want to help someone you don’t want to profit from me, you should do it for free interesting on the back, stinking Rich filthy stinking rich, yes, okay I make all the money in the world very good they’ll notice how fast we come over these statement, Okay that’s why I come up with some positive ones, freedom, what is freedom, monica by choices yes, lack of money is the root of all evil yes yes, money helps we help others, think about it, if you have subconsciously if you have a negative association with money and wealth, what are the chances of you getting some money, slim to none and even if you do get it accidentally are you going to be able to keep it, no because you don’t want to be a bad, person, you don’t want to be a bad person, because if I made a lot of money I’m greedy I’m selfish I’m not helping others, i am bad I’m whatever, yes, yeah it’s like, if you want to truly help others, you wouldn’t want to profit from it, is that a belief system yes or no, Yeah so if you love helping other people you love what you do, you should have money, yes, that’s one belief system yes, the best way to become one of them but I just want to focus on that one, if you could love what you do if you want to help others you should have make money from yes, is that one belief system, let’s take a look at it, i believe, you should love what you do so much it’s the only way you’ll make money from it, dissolution, there’s someone statement, so negative association with money and wealth and most of the time these negative associations are coming from where, society parentsquare, experiences friends, school, let me ask you a question, i’m most of these believe and statements coming from the 5% of the 95%, there’s your answer, they are the 95% and this is the belief system, If you wanted to come to 5%.

You want to do everything that you could, do the opposite, you cannot afford to have these negative associations and the money doesn’t buy happiness, money is not a component want to hear from people, am I right, most of the time it is a defensive, statement, no it’s a stupid statement, most people say that usually means they don’t have any, well they don’t know how to get some, in fact from now on anyone that you talk to, if you say anything like you see if money doesn’t buy happiness by, he’s what you do do this with me, and just be just like, when you get a few money do you like weight, guildbrook, how do you know your psychic power would you like to know more, $40 you can make some money from that because I think you is so easy, Tell if that’s the belief system guaranteed, it cannot be cannot have money if that’s belief system, so how you handle that immediate number ways I just want to show you it so number one negative association with money, becoming one parents coming from anybody that you know the surrounding consider the source where the, yes. Come from, there’s a couple of 95% or the 5%, so he is Summa top 10 money living Belize from a good friend Joe Vitale, money is the root of all evil, if I’m successful people would hate me, by the way guarantee you if you are successful people will, hate you, guarantees in life that I could guarantee you, people hate you, sometimes are the people closest to you, they will hate you, if I make $1000000 I might lose it then I with you stupid and hate myself forever, there’s not enough money to go around, If I have a little more that I need to get by someone else has to go without, if I have a lawnmower do I need to get by lots of people we have to go without, it is better to take less, dental be responsible for someone else’s hardship, democrats punish the rich Republicans punish the poor, if I make a lot of money I would be betraying my father would never make much money, that was the last one was the one for me by the way, tell me a lot of money it means because my father’s middle-class means, is always in the gifting helping people, and if I’m a lot of money does that mean I’m greedy I’m not a good person it’s like my granddad used to run a restaurant, many many years in Hong Kong and he was known as a guy in his village, Call the time he would like always make these kanji, and feed the poor, is very well known in in my own little town, mo City, so what am I if I make a lot of money is in my disgrace, to my luck family, what will the people think of me so that was one that I had to come to work on, what is down overly sensitive to audit opinions and perceptions and criticism and God, awesome and outright attacks, overly sensitive to others, opinions perceptions criticism and gossip and alright attacks, yes when you become successful people will criticize you, they would talk about you, in some cases they would just attack you, mono reasons, for no reasons, incomplete, pictures of pacu, cathedral, perceptions about what you are about, it’s like the other day I was, watching about a video and then I saw a negative comment and the guy was attacking me, Supposed to call me if you don’t even know who I am.

What is this about, what did I do to you man I just uploaded a video that is free to watch, what’s Mexican playing and he has long thing I’m like wow, he must be having a bad day, okay, sometimes people having a bad day and try to make your day worse, don’t take it personally, don’t take it personally, so you did the idea that I want to be nice, i want everybody to like me, okay, number three, fear of changes require or caused by higher level of success, secrets and deep down within yourself you say maybe I am not, good enough, or maybe I’m not worthy of well, maybe I’m inadequate, or if I could come see it’s one thing to become successful but I would really look stupid if I becomes, Successful and then lose it all, then I look really dumb, okay be of changes required by high-level to cups, this really happens to people of a Tang, a little bit of success, success Unlimited comfortable, that’s why they don’t strive for more because they’re afraid of change, death rate of change, number for his also pretty big one, gary Wright, realization of unwillingness to pay the price but equally equally dominant, unwillingness to admit it, realization of unwilling to pay the price, you know what that’s what it takes, to be, is 7 thicker not to be a millionaire, man maybe just this is just not for me, and, i just keep going to be seminars, telling myself ill to get better, so that at least it feels like I’m doing something, unless you’re not doing anything because deep down I don’t know if I believe it, Yes, how do you know what the price is, that’s a very good question, success, success has a price, and it’s a price, that you pay prepaid in advance, best no installment plan, no specie payments, success has a price and it’s something you pay in advance, how do you know when you pay the price, you paid enough, when you know you paid enough, you’ve accomplished it, that’s when you know you paid enough, so how big is a price depends on your goal, but chances are it’s a lot higher than what you might think, you think it’s cost you this much effort, double triple. That’s probably more likely, cuz you underestimate, how to, nBS to build a company, how tough it is to succeed, how tough it is, tututix he’s in the business, whenever, so out of the four I want you to take this a 3-minute hello, Just discussed among the table which one got a resume with you is like a damn I have one of those, damn I have all four of those three minutes go, potter Harry Potter, i think like a millionaire, so can I have two people go to the mic and share what what what have you gotten out of the discussion what does it mean for, for you, resent one more, always introduce yourself my name is, when is Hassan Muhammad Ali, babies negative, beliefs, like rich people are all Crooks, what makes people cry, they don’t do, stop anything for society, like, belching their money by like, using dirty tactics, it makes me believe one thing they’re the only people that give, so much to society like, they help educate, people like what you’re doing right now the seminars workshops but and books, an another another topic I wanted to talk about, All these limit all these like negative thoughts they have.

Up towards successful people, it’s all like jealousy and hate that’s embedded within them and they’re just taking out the anger on you, it’s something you talked about actually last year, that’s all, jack, i’m Sasha, so I recently Alex interesting I believe I may have aspects of all four of those things potentially, on some level holding me back in some way shape or form, something I’ve recently become aware of I believe in most least predominately on an unconscious level, is the biggest stop that, maybe not in my scope of conscious awareness is, i believe on some level, that my mom would hate or resent me, forum yeah, for having achieved, prosperity in abundance that became recently aware like oh my God that’s probably what’s been running the show, On some level I’m on a totally off my radar level for quite a while and thank you, hi Mohammed, muhammad Muhammad I want to share a quote that somebody else, openTable said Pete said and I think you’ll be really useful for everybody, money is, the amplifier of Who You Are, pink, and your money you just amplify that, ability and if he if you’re nice guy the money amplifies that and I think that resonated with me, quite well because it sort of takes into all four of those pieces and it sort of, kind of brings out why and and shows as I thought that was something that was really nice and I wanted to share that, hi Andre, number three reminded me of one of the things you taught us several, events to go with your really, thought was deep, when you said that most people think that their biggest fears if you’re a failure well, In fact our biggest fear is the fear of success, because they know how failure feels but they don’t all the successful then, i’ve been thinking about this a lot because, biscuit when I’m looking at, the way I’m growing, and I’ve been a fascinating Journey for me, but, really when I go back to to to to the to that idea I’m thinking could I’ve been going faster if I knew, knew where I was going and if they answer is probably yes, so it really like that so thank you thank you thank you, for me for myself personally number three was, the biggest one for me, because I have all these goals I wanted to achieve, and I would have these self-limiting beliefs, just because you know I’m an immigrant, i didn’t know anybody I speak with an accent, I’m too young imagine, in my twenties do I say I’m too young, i’m not 34 people still say I’m too young, okay then when x 44 people say I am too, yeah when the f*** is a good time there’s no in-between, it’s like you’re too young you’re too young and too young and some old, what is the appropriate age please tell me, is never appropriate is never the right age, so that was something I had overcome personally, also with my dad also because of that that also, but good thing is I have my dad which is my mom my mom is always, very very supportive, i would I would tell her I want to do these things and do these great things and some of the craziest outrageous goals I have, she always tells me yes if you think you can do it go do it, Show me.

And I’ll do it and then I’ll come back and then go do some more, go do some more, so I’m fortunate to have a mom that’s, very very supportive, and also of course different Mentor that I have, remember quote for my men toys that you know, dan as a coach, what’s a mentor view what I do is I make you do stuff that you don’t want to do, so we can be who you want to be, i make you do stuff that you don’t want to do, so you can be who you say you want to be, and so he constantly push me and challenge me, understand that this for inner conflicts that you have it’s a little bit like, if you are this a great book by Jim Newman, call Willie’s you’ll brakes will ease your brakes by Jim Newman, unicasa kind of book, And Jim talks about concert with most people, to operate in this, the metaphor that you’re driving with working hard with pushing with setting goals and we just put it on that accelerate, accelerator and somebody’s not going faster so we want because, we don’t know subconsciously we have the emergency brake on, that which I push push push push, and once was realize what that is when you released your break you go walk., you go for very very fast will eyes being aware, some of these things holding you back, most 6-figure earners can operate with relatively high levels on., unresolved what’s the word, unresolved inner conflict about money and wealth, millionaires have no margin, absolutely no margin for such weakness, because if you do what you want keep the money, you won’t keep the money, you mean the three things about money you didn’t notice free, Make it how to make it, how to keep it and how to multiply, how to make it, how to keep it and how the X, most people, can’t even get to level one, even know how to f****** make it, level one, oh no it’s once you’re making it a whole other game to keep it, okay come was lost tens of millions of dollars right, wanting to make it one thing to keep it is a whole different thing to multiply, you making it through your business, you keep it through your behavior your savings or investment multiplier course to investing, most people don’t even get to this piece, they don’t even know how to make it, and then keep it, and then X, no margin for sex weakness, so one of experience I recommend in Vancouver is The Millionaire Mind intensive how many heard of it, Yeah I recommend many years ago when hawbecker was teaching it to potential is in a Solar Company, i talked to her and actually pay for nowadays you can actually go for free like 3 day and then go to the, billions and they have all these different process to learn about to get rid of some of these conflicts, affiliate with them but you can check them out meaning of my intensive, basic Vancouver which is lucky you going to take those training now for free, i just to pay like a couple grand for it, and then of course you’re going to try to upsell you two different programs and this and that we call it you buy or not, the three days is it is it getting experience as far as I’m concerned, 10 * your finances ten times your business ten times your marketing, sometimes your life hit the Subscribe button now.

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