#also found out that my great grandfather (my maternal grandma's father)

[mmmmuffins]

went to watch shakespeare in the park and GODDDDD why am i not doing literature in uni i hate this stem oriented society so much i shd be doing lit

[demigodkin-diana-amazones]

MY MORTAL PARENTS, FAMILY & ANCESTRY:

MY ROMAN & ITALIAN ANCESTRY:

I was born at around 1 pm, on Saturday, the 20th of June, 1998, in the Royal Melbourne Hospital, Melbourne, Australia-The same day that the ancient Romans annually celebrated the festival of the Roman nocturnal storm, god, Summanus, as well as the Rosalia (rose) festival where the Romans payed tribute to the dead and the year that the Roman revivalist organisation, Nova Roma was founded (it's no wonder that I am so Roman, favour roses and have storm powers).

My mortal parents, Teresa Varrese and Roberto Dal Col are Calabrian Italians.

All my grandparents migrated from Italy to Australia, so I am fully-Italian. My mortal dad told me about how his mum was so strong that would break a broomstick in half with her teeth or bare hands, when she got angry. She was like a posh princess with a female Spartan warrior side.

Four of my grandparents are from Calabria, in Southern italy, which was Greece (Magna Grecia) and probably inhabited by Spartans, in ancient times. Perhaps, I have lots of Spartan ancestors from Calabria. That would explain where I get my Spartan warrior ideas from and how my Calabrian grandma could bite a broomstick in half with her bare teeth.

My maternal great-grandfather might have been a police officer, in italy or served in the army. My great-uncle was definitely a police officer in italy, though. Maybe he got it from his father

My paternal great-grandma, Maria's surname, Romeo (Latin: 'to Rome') originates from medieval Rome and The Eastern Roman Empire.

The ghosts of my Roman ancestors (Lares), including Roman soldiers and those from the Romeo family have been there for me, throughout my life. They guide, comfort, protect, enlighten and accompany me. We feast, drink, sleep, shower, laugh, hang-out, go to outings and have fun together. They taught me what it means to be a true Roman and raised me to be like one.

One of my ancestral guardian spirits who often accompanies me is a noble Roman from the renaissance whose full name is Marco Romeo. He looks like a statue of a Roman god with short black hair, blue eyes and fair skin. Marco lived in a villa, in the countryside of Rome. He was an expert at jousting and sword-fighting.

I also had many past-lives as my Roman ancestors, including a past-life as Marco Romeo and a hundred Roman soldiers. Many demigod children of Mars have lots of past-lives as Roman soldiers and warriors. Our divine-father, Mars wanted us to keep reincarnating as Roman soldiers, so that we would remain loyal to Rome and be more prepared for battles.

Like Hazel from the Percy Jackson book series, I had many past-lives and come back from the underworld, Hades many times. I am technically a walking dead and the undead shadow legionary, Damocles from the video-game, Ryse Son of Rome (metaphorically).

Also, the Romeo family possibly had many noble Romans who mastered sword-fighting, since they have a coat-of-arms with a sword.

My divine-father, Mars also knew that mortal parents these days weren't so good at raising Roman soldiers, so he sent the ghosts of my Roman soldier ancestors to raise me to be like them, since I was a young child.

All my ancestors are from Italy as far as I know: back to the 1800s and who knows where they were from, beforehand? The majority of them were most likely from Italy.

MY MORTAL PARENTS & FAMILY:

MY MORTAL FATHER:

My mortal father, Robert(o) is most like Mars. He's also very lazy, silly, stubborn and retarded (not that Mars is).

My mortal father is somewhat enthusiastic about The Roman Empire and shouts things like, 'Hail Caesar!', on the rare occasion.

He sometimes squeezes my bicep or shoulders, including after I help him move the heavy furniture and exclaims something like, 'Look at how strong your muscles are-Strong like a Roman soldier! You must have got it from your Roman soldier ancestors.' I guess that I not only got them from my Roman soldier ancestors, but my divine-father, Mars too.

Once, I dressed as a Roman soldier mascot with a red tunic and cheer-leaded for my youngest sister's red sports team, at the sports carnival, in primary school. (It must have been embarrassing for her. Sorry). Someone was staring at my Roman soldier costume and my mortal dad told them something like, 'Sorry. My daughter thinks she's a Roman.'

My dad is very talented at playing the drums. Ever since he was a youth, he could play the drums like a pro and drove our mums insane. My dad had a habit of banging the same war drum tune on the steering wheel and furniture like a bongo drum. I could always intuitively do the same and later play this tune on the drums, with little effort. I would quickly pick up on how to to play tunes on the drums just by listening to my dad playing them. I guess, I not only got my natural drumming skills from my divine father, Mars, but my mortal dad too.

Like the mortal father of the demigod daughter of Bellona, Reyna, in Percy Jackson, my mortal dad is also a psycho. And no, I am not psycho like him. On the rare occasion, he gets violent, very aggressive and threatens to kill, over small matters. I would never do that. He is often paranoid that everyone is spying on him and threatens to kill them. I am not that stupid either.

My dad has worked as a security guard for a short amount of times. He would like to be a police officer, but he wouldn't be mentally fit enough to be one. He would probably shoot innocent police and civilians over his paranoid thoughts.

Also, my dad had karate lessons and went to bootcamp, in his childhood. He is a black-belt in karate. My dad made a bow and arrow when he was a youth and shot an arrow into his brother's ankle. He chased my dad with a knife around the house for it. Luckily, he was stopped, before anything could happen, because then I might have never been born. He has also been to Rome and The Colosseum for a holiday when he was a kid. Maybe he saw the ghosts of our Roman ancestors there.

MY MORTAL MOTHER:

My mortal mother, Teresa is like the earth goddess, Gaia. Very motherly and loves admiring nature. She's very caring and goes out of her way to look after my family. Her name, Teresa even means 'farmer' in Greek, which relates to plants and hence Gaia.

Also, a large stress-head. She has an anxiety disorder and is a clean-freak. She's often shouts at us to clean the house and spends a lot of time cleaning it. She makes a huge deal over small matters. If anything goes wrong, she has a mental break-down and makes out like the apocalypse is happening.

When my mum was a youth, her brother accidentally shot her in the eye with a gun-leaving her permanently blind in one eye. Luckily, the bullet didn't penetrate her brain, because then I wouldn't have been born or maybe so, but not the same.

My divine father, Mars actually never bred with my mortal mother. Then, you might be wondering something like, 'Then, how are you a demigod? I thought that demigods are only children of a god and mortal who bred with each-other.' That is very wrong and a common misconception. In fact, demi means partial and not just half.

A demigod is any being with partial god status by definition. Having a god and mortal as a parent who bred together isn't the only way to be a demigod.

Basically, I was created as a female Roman warrior spirit by my divine father, Mars from celestial bronze and the soil on planet Mars, in my past-life. He genetically modified me to be a demigod (for the purpose of making me a submissive servant warrior of the gods with magical powers). I then incarnated as a mortal, on Earth, in order to complete a quest to gain immortality/godhood.

MY MORTAL SISTERS:

I get along with my second-oldest mortal sister, Briarna (meaning 'warrior' in Gallic) the best. We are like besties. Briarna is very outgoing, empathetic, hippy and generous. She's into vintage and spiritual stuff. We used to train in taekwando together and both have black-belt.

My third-youngest sister, Adria (meaning 'dark', in Greek) is very vain and mean. She has malignant narcissistic personality disorder. She often says mean things to my family and treats them like her slaves. I have learnt to ignore it and that has made me spiritually stronger.

My youngest sister, Chiara is very cute and mostly nice, but with a bad attitude when annoyed. Chiara gets irritated very easily. She's into Kpop, Korean culture and cute Asian things.

Chiara once dressed as a Roman wolf warrior and sung Romulus by the Roman metal band, Ex Deo. Another time, we made a film of us having a gladiator fight. I dressed as a gladiator and she dressed in her tiger onesie. We fought each-other in our spa, which we pretended was the Colosseum. Another time, she drew me funny memes of each Olympian god, including a picture of Zeus with the body of a goose. LOL.

Chiara also made me a voice recording of a legendary Roman speech that sounded something like the following:

'Thousands of years ago,

We ruled the world

And we fought for our victory.

We slaughtered the enemies-

Blood drooling from their bodies,

Until we were very pleased.

We raised our chalices and swords to our mighty Emperor

And we said, 'Be glorious!'

From that day on,

We were not only famous through the land,

But throughout the whole of time.

And that is how the legend goes, children.'

These times with Chiara I shall not forget. They were so hilarious. I still keep her funny Roman artworks, poems and videos, which she made for me in memory of them, after all those years.

MY PATERNAL GRANDFATHER:

My paternal grandfather looked almost exactly the same as The Roman Emperor, Augustus Caesar. Perhaps, he descended from him or his relative. My grandfather's alter-ego was a navy and NAZI soldier. He would pretend that he's a navy soldier and say how spinach makes you strong like the cartoon character, Pop-eye, The Sailor's Man. Other times he would pretend to be a NAZI soldier, salute and exclaim, 'Hail Hitler!', (which I strongly object).

I would never even tell my close friends or family that I am a demigod daughter of Mars, because they are Christians, don't believe in these things and so would think that I am crazy. Also, because the gods demand that I keep it a secret for humility, secrecy, my reputation and other's sanity.

My Romeo family ancestors descending from the ancient Romans, my ancestry being almost fully-Italian, my great-grandfather being a policeman/soldier, my grandfather possibly descending from Augustus Caesar, my father being a black-belt Roman enthusiast and my family's military history, particularly its Roman one are some of the many reasons for why my divine father, Mars has favoured me to be the vessel of his incarnated demigod daughter's soul, Diana (my demigod-self). My imperial Roman blood is what makes me so Romanly and combined with my metaphysical DNA of my divine father, the Roman war god Mars, makes me double the Romaness. My mixed Greek, as well as Roman blood was also designed by Mars to give me double military prowess and help me negotiate peace between these cultures.

REFERENCE (Romeo family origin):

https://www.ancestry.com.au/name-origin?surname=romeo

NOTES:

-I think that Mars chose for me to be born in the new age, because it's the optimal time for me to work on one of my divine missions being to establish a new age Greek alien gods sect.

-I think that Mars sent me to be born into my mortal family not only on a quest, but also because they descended from the Romeo family, Roman soldiers, Roman demigod sons of Mars, in Rome and potentially Augustus Caesar. Also, because they inherited the rare dominant Roman gene in their bloodline.

-I think that Mars chose for me to be born in Australia, because much of the landscape here is like that on my home planet, Mars.

-I think that Mars chose the name of my street to be Alexander, after Alexander The Great and chose my house to be the one with the Greek neighbours, so I could be culturally influenced to be more Olympian.

-My divine father, Mars is Roman and my two mortal parents are Calabrian Italians. So, I am 33% (one third) god & Roman, as well as 67% (two thirds) mortal & Calabrian, in immediate ancestry. However, I feel 60% Roman & 30% Calabrian, in DNA/spirit as my godly Roman genes are more dominant, as well as intentionally overpowering and destroying my mortal genes, in an attempt to control my body to serve Rome.

I also inherit a rare unconquerable dominant Roman gene from my distant mortal Roman ancestors. The gene was created by Mars to ensure that someone would be a saviour of Rome & influence others to serve Rome for eternity. Only one person per generation inherits this special Roman gene. Those who inherit the gene are favoured by Mars as his demigod child. This is one of the many ways that I am a demigod.

Even though I am one third god, I am more powerful than the average demigod, because I was originally created as a semi-divine being by Mars to serve him/the gods and had no mortal parents. He infused my ichor (golden blood of the gods) with extraordinary powers & a super powerful burst of power that I can only use for a short periods in urgent times of need. I was then incarnated into a mortal on a divine mission. So, I am still a demigod as I am still semi-divine with a god and mortal parent.

-My paternal great grandfather ate mice like the ancient Romans, so maybe it was passed down from our Roman ancestors.

-All the original full-blooded Romans were a semi-divine race of mortals created, as well as genetically modified by Mars to serve him and advance humanity. So, all Romans were demigods. Those who descend from the Romans, including myself are Mars's legacy (demigod descendants). Mars's godly gene is the only unconquerable one that doesn't get diluted, even after thousands of years as it's super-loyal/overpowering & it seeks to dominate the body to ensure that Rome is served for generations/eternity.

-Having Roman genes from both my mortal and divine side of the family, I am super-powerful. The Romans were super-powerful soldiers. They were unconquerable. They conquered everything in their path. Nothing could conquer them or stand in their path. Nothing.

-Many of us demigods feel like orphans. We were abandoned by our godly parent and sent to incarnate as average mortals, also because they didn't want us. They are always too busy doing godly business to help and visit us. We are so neglected and abandoned that it's like we don't even have parents. We sometimes feel so unloved, betrayed, pathetic and worthless. We have to learn to be independent and survive on our own from a young age. We feel like our mortal parents aren't our real parents, but foster ones and that our godly parent is our real parent.

Our godly parent just incarnated us into the unborn baby of our mortal mother and left her to raise us, also because our godly parent was too busy to look after us. Our godly parent was hoping that giving us to mortal parents would give us a better chance at life than if they left us alone to starve to death, in a ditch. They also sent us to the mortal world, because they thought it would be a great opportunity to make mortal friends, learn to be a normal human, keep up with the trends, use the new technology, go out to fun places and other reasons.

-Many of us demigods have been getting new mortal parents, in each of our past-lives. We view our mortal parents as temporary and replaceable. We learn to accept that one day, they'll die and be replaced with new parents, in our next life. It's like an eternal cycle of being disposed and adopted.

-I have Greek toes when stretched out, but Roman toes when relaxed, so maybe my ancestors were mostly both Greek and Roman

-Many of us demigods view our mortal parents as alien and strange, because we are semi-gods and they are all mortal. Also, because mortals live, think and perceive differently from us. Why are they like that? We just don't understand these mortals.

-My parents told me about how teachers made students march around the school and sing the Australian anthem, before school everyday, in the old days. I would hate that, since I have no interest in Aussie culture and am sick of singing the Australian anthem, but would love it if it were Roman for obvious reasons. They told me that they had to march, while chanting, 'Left, left, left, right, left.' I would practise marching to this chant, infront of the mirror, before bed.

[suspiciousdreaming]

Elvis Presley fc oc: open for rp and plotting! Comment on this post if interested! Discord is my preferred platform but I am open to other suggestions 🖤 18+ and lit style only please 🙏🏼

{𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬:

Name: Kit Perez

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Birthday: 2nd January

Nationality: American

Occupation: Soldier in the United States Air Force (rank: Senior Airman E-4)

--

{𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

Positive: Charming, wild, playful, confident, resourceful, methodical, flirtatious, ambitious, artistic, sociable, spontaneous, hard-working

Negative: Impulsive, sarcastic, vain, self-indulgent, temperamental

--

{𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨��𝐧𝐝:

Place of birth: Mississippi

Residence: North Carolina, USA

Family: Father - Frank Perez, Sergeant Major in United States Army (Age: 55)

Mother - Nancy Perez (deceased)

Grandmother - Joyce Perez (maternal figure in Kit’s life)

Education: High School graduate diploma.

Hobbies and Interests: Guitar, Singing, Swimming, Boxing, Hiking, Cars and Boats, Fashion, Marine life

{𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬:

✙ His middle name is ‘Sparrow’ this was the name of his grandfather, who passed away the day he was born. When Kit was younger his mother and grandmother often referred to him as their ‘Little Sparrow’, a nickname which, to his embarrassment, his grandma still refers to him by.

✙ Despite reigning from a ‘proud American’ family, Kit’s surname has Spanish origins reigning back to his great-grandfather, who moved to the country and gained residency through enlisting.

✙ His mother passed when he was 8 years old from Pneumonia. After this Kit’s grandmother moved in to take over her role of feeding and caring for a young boy. Due to this, Kit and his grandmother are extremely close, he would talk to her about anything.

✙ He was practically raised on the army base his father works at and was expected to follow in Frank’s footsteps from an early age. University was never an option given to him, not that this mattered much to Kit as he was never the highest achiever when it came to book smarts, he found it difficult to sit and focus on textbooks for such long periods. However, he is extremely intelligent when it comes to practical matters.

✙ Kit’s truest passion is music, aspiring to front a rock-and- roll band and travel the globe. His father scorns the idea and forbids his son from even considering such a path. This is why Kit has had to reluctantly work at advancing up in the air force ranks. He doesn’t despise it, but he knows it isn’t the direction he wants his life stuck going in forever.

✙ Every break from operations and base training is used by Kit to travel off somewhere and perform in whatever local shows he can, bringing along 3 buddies from his school days when they are available to back him on stage with instruments. He also regularly releases songs on Spotify, YouTube and Instagram and is amassing a small, growing following. Some songs are covers; some he writes himself; others are fully produced rock pieces with his 3 other mates. None of his army buddies, including his father, know. If it were discovered by the Sergeant he would likely cast his son out. Despite his rebellious nature, Kit’s father’s opinion still means a lot to him. Much of this stems from his mother reminding him to always ‘do right by your daddy’ in his early years.

✙ Life in the military isn’t easy. His first year as an airman pilot saw him shipped overseas where he was in a minor bomb explosion, his eyes and skin damaged by shards of flying metal. He didn’t lose his sight, but he often wears shades in daylight as his eye sensitivity to light never quite recovered. When outside for long periods of time, he will often need to retreat to a darkened room to relieve the throbbing sensation in his eyes and temple. There have been other minor bones broken, bullets taken and the like but nothing life altering- yet. His greatest fear is a throat wound that could end his singing dream.

✙ The greatest loss in Kit’s life, excluding his mother, was his first girlfriend, a brunette class-mate called Emily Taylor. They dated from the ages of 14-17. On 23rd August Emily was pronounced dead at a house party from an overdose of LSD pills. She had never been known to use hallucinogens prior and as Kit was not present that evening the entire story is uncertain to him. He hasn’t been in a long-term relationship since; however, is often in the company of girls in his time off and when abroad.

✙ Kit is extremely vain and will never go anywhere without a little comb in his pocket to keep his hair neat, even when in uniform. To his father’s distaste he also wears eyeliner and eyeshadow on occasion, the habit first starting when he began to steal some of his grandmother’s as a boy to imitate rockstars of the 80’s.

✙ Kit’s temperamental attitude has led him into a lot of scruffs with other troops, although there are times these are semi-planned to impress onlooking girls at bars.

✙ Having shown proficient skills in leadership, Kit’s father and other commanders are keen to promote him to the next rank of Staff Sergeant; however, he has managed to avoid a full induction just yet… quietly holding out to focus on his music.

[filmnoirsbian]

Omg omg. You know I love to tell this story because, from an outsider point of view my parent's love story sounds a little bit like a fairytale (childhood friends to lovers) 😊 But no 😳They met, as if by fate, when they were both 9 years old, on the playground. My mother was a country bumpkin with no manners and my dad was a wimpy snotty city kid whose hippie family had just moved to the countryside to ✨✨✨ renovate✨✨✨ an """old barn""" in the 60s. The thing is, they had actually bought the farm of my mother's uncle, who was bankrupt. That meant the few animals he had left were now theirs. There were just a few chickens, two cows, and a lonely donkey. My dad was lonely as well and he had no friends so this donkey became his only company. So, my mum knew who he was and she went to rudely ask him if they could have their donkey back because actually she loved that donkey very much, she assisted to her birth and had named it Geraldine (it was the name of her late grandmother). And so my dad kind of got angry and retaliated that she was actually a HE, and that HE was called Figaro, and that it had always been this way. And so my mum kind of. Punched him. Because it was pretty rude of him to misgender her dear Geraldine. And she broke two of his front teeth. He cried. There was blood everywhere. The two families met to apologize to each other during a very awkward dinner. But the two mothers of my parents, as well as two of their younger siblings, went along super well, and so the two families became good friends despite their very different social backgrounds. My parents hated each other but they were forced to go on summer camps together. Urk. Anyway. Growing up, my dad actually fell in love with my mum but it was a big secret (or so he thought), and he sent her secret love letters written on pink paper with little drawings of flowers and very bad poetry. My mother absolutely knew who was her secret admirer and she actually sorta kinda liked him. Maybe. But she was so petty over how they met and how he never apologized for saying Geraldine was a male donkey, that she didn't say anything for FIVE F*CKING YEARS. Once they were 18, my dad wished to go to study in the city, and so he finally confessed to my mum. They had smeggs. He was over the moon. He thought they were finally a Thing. "But we were both drunk", my mother said, "so it didn't count". (she did like him. she was just being really petty) So she finally made him apologize, and let me tell you he was completely floored. Anyway, fast forward a few years later. My father finishes his studies, my mother goes to live with him in the city, far away from her horrible hometown, and they get married. My mother gets pregnant. Then they learn that, for almost a decade, my paternal grandmother had cheated on my paternal grandfather with my maternal great uncle (the very same guy they had bought the farm from). The both of them (my grandma and great uncle), now found out, run away together in secret. Yah. 🤪 Anyway my dad cut ties with his mother, my mum's family cut ties with her uncle. A few months later my older sister was born. And guess what? They thought it was a very cute, very good idea, to call her Geraldine. Like my mother's grandmother. But also AND MOST IMPORTANTLY LIKE A F*CKING DONKEY. Anyway, my entire family line is a clown show. 🤡

I love this‼️ 🥺 they named her geraldine...💞

[prorevenge]

Cousin tries to steal my mother's inheritance

The whole story was a few years ago and is very convoluted. In order not to write a novel here, I try to keep things clear and as short as possible. If some things are incomprehensible, I am happy to submit updates upon request.

Yes, we were too trustworthy and in retrospect we should have done more earlier.

The story begins in the early 90s when my parents got divorced. My mother had been given custody of me and my older sister by the court. We moved into my maternal grandmother's house. The house was built by my grandfather in the 50's and had never been renovated. There were 2 apartments in the house. One apartment on the ground floor and one on the 1st floor. My grandma lived in the lower apartment. But even though it was actually too small for a woman with 2 teenage children in the upper apartment, my mother initially wanted us to see the house as 2 separate households. It took my grandma some time to convince my mother to consider the house as a whole as not my grandmothers, but ours.

My mother and grandma decided not only to renovate the house, but also to refurbish it. But before that could happen, something important had to be clarified.

Because my grandfather had built the house and he died without writing his last will, the house was not legally owned by my grandmother at the time, but belonged in part to my mother and her sister (let's call her Estelle)

My grandma bought Estelles share.

The 40-year-old stove heating was replaced by a floor heating that was modern at the time, windows were renewed, old pipes and cables were replaced and much more. My mother put all of the money my father gave her after the divorce into the house. Among other things, she paid off an old loan that was still on the house.

In order not to repeat my grandfather's mistake, the three made a will. The share in the house that belongs to my grandmother should go to my mother after her death, as she lived in the house and contributed significantly to its value through her investment. Estelle should get a large amount of money and everything else my grandma owns should be divided equally between the two.

Fast forward to 2015. My mother had retired and took care 24/7 of her mother, who is suffering from dementia. The alternative of putting my grandma in a nursing home was out of the question for us. As long as it was somehow possible, my mother wanted my grandma to stay in the house that she built with her husband and that she called home. I haven't lived in the house for a long time, but I still visited whenever I could to relieve my mother of work. But these opportunities are few and far between, as I live and work around 2 hours away by car. So I was all the more pleased that my mother got help with housework for a few hours a week. This domestic help (let's call her Nadine) is the girlfriend of Estelles son Tim.

When Tim was a Teenager he had fallen out with his father and most of our family had very few contacts with him. He showed up once a year, called on our grandmas’ birthday and on Christmas. For over 20 years, he was, besides these 3 occasions, basically nonexistent.

Nadine works full time in a nursing home. After having been in the hospital for a few days, my grandma was supposed to be in that very nursing home for a while. The insurance companies offer this option so that caregiving relatives should be able to recover for a few days themselves and my mother really needed the break.

But my mother was not granted this break. On the second day, in her demented confusion, she crawled under her room neighbor's bed and did not let the nursing staff lure her out from under it. Nadine then called Tim, who came by. While playing hide and seek, my grandma was slightly injured and was taken back to the hospital. After that, she refused to go back to the nursing home, and my mother gave in and took her home.

In the next few months, it was 2016 then, Tim appeared once a week to, as he said, “take care of grandma”. This “taking care” consisted of going to Grandma, who was sitting in her TV chair, holding her hand, asking if everything was okay and driving off 15 minutes later.

At this point I would like to emphasize again that my mother has basically sacrificed herself since 2011 to look after her mother in need of care. She never moved more than 50 meters from my grandma without someone to take her place. Both my grandmother's doctor and the official auditors in charge of the nursing service had certified my mother that my grandmother was doing great under her supervision.

Estelle's birthday was in March. My mother told me later that Estelle had advised her in a conversation that she should put some money aside for the time when Grandma is no longer there.

Nadine celebrated his birthday in July. Since my grandmother was again spending a few days in short-term care at that time so that my mother could recover a little, Tim offered to pick up grandma for the party.

And in August the mood changed.

Estelle expressed concern that my grandma's confusion was really dementia and instead suggested that grandma was in her condition because of poor care from my mother. Tim was increasingly aggressive towards my mother. In a conversation I insisted on participate, he accused my mother of embezzling my grandmother's money and evading taxes. And although I am a peace-loving person, I lost my composure a little and I was only a blink away from beating him.

After we calmed down again, I suggested that instead of just coming by for 15 minutes a week and spreading accusations, he should really take care of Grandma and look after her for a week at a time.

He agreed.

Two weeks later, Tim and Tim's brother appeared with his family and picked up Grandma for a visit to a fair.

When they came back they told my mother that they had ordered a new TV chair for Grandma and that my mother should pay for it with her money. The reason was that my mother “lived rent-free in Grandma's house” and practically doesn’t do anything. Since my grandmother was so “gracious to take in a mother and her two children” she was entitled to the money, my mother supposedly saved on rent.

A few weeks later my mother had an appointment and asked Estelle to take care of Grandma during that time. When she came back there was also a note on the table. Estelle had taken grandma with her to look after her. First a week to try out.

The joy that my mother had about the free time she gained quickly vanished when it turned out two days later that Estelle took the opportunity to go to her bank with my grandmother to revoke my mother the right to access my grandmother's account. We only found out about it by accident.

A few days later Estelle appeared accompanied by Tim, his two siblings and their families and got clothes, jewelry and everything valuable that my grandmother owned. They said that my grandma wanted to stay with Estelle now because she couldn't stand my mother anymore.

The mood between my mother and grandma had deteriorated noticeably in the months since the first stay at the nursing home. At first, we assumed that the dementia was getting worse.

A few days later, 9 people came to my mother's home. Including my grandmother, Estelle, Tim, Ts. siblings and their family. When my mother was about to let 2 visitors out of the door, one of the group stormed through the open front door, pushing my mother and sister aside and demanding that they leave the (lower) apartment immediately. They supposedly had no right to be there and are only allowed to stay in the upper apartment.

A neighbor saw the incident and called the police. The group convinced the police that my mother actually lived in the apartment upstairs and had no right to be downstairs. To this day I still don't understand why the policeman accepted it that way. In any case, he asked my mother to leave the lower apartment until the matter was legally clarified. The police then disappeared. The group then took the opportunity to exchange the lock and searched the apartment for incriminating material that they could use against my mother. Unsurprisingly, they didn't find anything. My mother hadn't done anything wrong.

The day after, my mother went to see a lawyer to give her access to the home again. After a week back and forth, my relatives agreed to let my mother back into the apartment.

They cleared the furniture out of the apartment beforehand, because they thought it belonged to my grandmother, and switched back to the old locks.

Since they were 9 again and my mother had a nervous breakdown from the whole affair anyway and was on the verge of the 2nd, I wanted to receive the key in her place. However, they insisted that my mother personally collect the key.

Since I could already imagine why my relatives insisted of being in a group of 9 to give the key to a 70 year old woman personally, I had an idea. I picked up my smartphone in a clearly visible position and activated the recording function.

As I expected, most of them noticed my cell phone and remained silent. All except my grandma. Although she could hardly see anything, she recognized me and wanted to talk to me. She accused me and my mother of plotting against her. That she always supported me and she couldn't understand how we could do that to her. It broke my heart to hear what monsters my mother and I had become in her mind. But I knew that this was the dementia talking. I listened patiently and tried to explain what she had misunderstood, but I also knew that she had sunk too far in her illness to convince her of the truth.

One of the allegations in that conversation was that my mother and I wanted her out of the house. As already written that was not the case. But I have to be grateful today that my grandma said that. Estelle was sitting next to her at the time and reflexively replied "It wasn't him, the others."

At the time, I was too fixated on my grandma that I hadn't even noticed. Fortunately, I had my phone in my hand the whole time. When I listened to the conversation a while later, it finally clicked and I could slap myself today for not noticing it earlier:

Since the incident at the nursing home, the mood between my mother and grandma had deteriorated noticeably. We had blamed it on dementia, but now it was clear to us that in her condition between dementia and the strong painkillers she was taking, my relatives had talked her into believing some conspiracy against her.

My mother then applied for guardianship for my grandma. In Germany it is regulated in such a way that it is first checked whether the care is necessary. That was a relatively straightforward matter.

Then a judge has to check whether there is a possibility that a relative will take over the guardianship. This test was an on-site appointment at Estelle

As I could deduct from the court papers, the judge was of the opinion relatively quickly that family-internal guardianship was not possible. The decisive factor was apparently, among other things, the aggressive behavior of my relatives towards my mother, whereby the judge was almost injured with a burning cigarette.

Mrs. G. was declared to be my grandmother's guardian. A few weeks after Mrs. G. took over her job, she paid my mother a visit.

Ms. G. said that she was amazed when she met my mother for the first time. After all, she wasn't the hell spawn my relatives described her. We learned that Estelle's family had apparently spread wild rumors about my mother in town. We also learned that apparently my grandmother's set up a new will.

Since my mother lives in a small town, it didn't take long to find out that Tim was named the sole heir in the new will. Nadine had said the same to a friend and if you know someone who knows someone…. Small town.

My grandma died in July 2017. Shortly afterwards, I drove to the court to deposit my grandma's will there so that it could take effect. The lady there said there would already be another recent will. I still insisted on depositing the old one.

The will was opened a few weeks later. We saw for the first time what we are dealing with.

The new will was drawn up by a notary which is normally better than a handwritten will from over 20 years ago. In the will, Tim is established as the sole heir with Estelle in the 2nd position (in the event that Tim would have died before my grandmother). Not a word about the fact that part of my mother's house already belonged to her, instead she was only given a right to live in the upper apartment. But the real shock came when we saw the date. The will was written in July 2016. On the day when Tim and Estelle had so generously agreed to pick up Grandma from the nursing home. When they were still trying to pretend everything was fine and their “only concern was Grandma's well-being”.

I made an appointment with an inheritance lawyer. The lawyer first wanted to convince my mother to only sue for her legal inheritance claim and to otherwise accept the will. Challenging a notarial will is one of the most difficult cases you can try in German courts and it takes a lot of evidence to do that.

My time to shine. It took me almost an hour to convince the lawyer that my grandma had dementia and that the new will is therefore invalid. Doctor's reports that certify dementia back in 2011. The report for the guardianship. Every minute I presented her with new documents and in the end she is ready to go into battle with us.

So the matter goes to court, which means that the lawyers write letters back and forth. In one of the letters, Tim's lawyer mentions that there is an assessment from a doctor A. that clearly confirms that my grandma did not have dementia. That would contradict the evidence I submitted to my lawyer. So the court commissioned a new, independent expert assessment.

Although I had a lot of evidence and the behavior of my grandmother was always a clear sign of dementia for me, we waited a little nervously for the assessment.

We receive the assessment and what can I say, I haven't read anything so beautiful and sad at the same time for a long time. It is sad because the expert quotes from many reports that describe what my grandma was going through after she was brought to Estelles house. Nice because the appraiser completely dismantled the other side's argument. For every argument that the other side has come up with by then, the appraiser has evidence to invalidate it. Most impressive is the fact that the alleged report by Doctor A. is completely worthless to the other side. On the contrary, the doctor was so incompetent that he accidentally not only failed to refute my grandmother's dementia, he even confirmed it.

So there is a court date. The appraiser, Doctor A. and the notary who wrote the will are present.

A. is given the opportunity to defend his "report" before the judge. And he only makes it worse. It is going too far to explain that now. In any case, A. made it clear to the judge that he had no idea how to carry out the test.

Then it's the notary's turn. When he testified, it turns out that there were 2 appointments with him and my grandma. And in their attempt to look particularly good in front of the judge, Estelle and Tim admit that they were both present at both appointments. Not only that, apparently the conversation and further coordination between the notary and my grandmother went completely through Estelle’s hands.

The trial ends and my mother's lawyer is overjoyed. She explains to me that if there were any doubts that the new will does not reflect the will of my grandma, these are finally resolved by the statement of the notary.

A few days later, the judge gives the verdict and it's even better than expected.

The house was awarded to my mother.

Tim is no longer entitled to even one cent from my grandma's inheritance.

All claims that Estelle could still make against my mother, i.e. both the stated sum of money from the old will and possible claims under the law, are offset against what was in his possession at the time of my grandma's death. So she has some old furniture, clothes, some jewelry, etc. And what it looks like so far, that means that's all she can hope for.

tl;dr My cousin tried to cheat my mother out of her inheritance. Didn't work out for him in the end.

(source) story by (/u/Sam_Ronin)

[serendipidibidibidis]

Roommates, no refunds!

Out of everything Kun thought he was prepared to see he can definitely say that seeing his grandparents who live in China at a small cafe in South Korea next to his sisters girlfriend of almost five years was not something he expected.

“When did you guys get here?” Kun questioned as he pulled out his chair before sitting down.

“Wendy picked us up this morning!” His grandmother smiled before properly greeting her grandson.

“So Wendy now that we’re all here you had something you wanted to ask us?” His grandfather turned towards her with a loving gaze. Kun some times forgets that Wendy isn’t their granddaughter with how affectionate his grandparents are towards her.

“Yes, okay the reason I flew you guys in & wanted to meet without Y/n is because I need your approval.” Wendy starts.

“I would like to ask Y/n to marry me. But your approvals all mean a lot to m-“ Wendy was cut off with the unanimous response of “yes” and “it’s about time” she couldn’t help to hold back her smile. She didn’t think they’d be against her asking y/n to be her wife, however you can never be too sure.

“I have something else as well!!” Wendy spoke up once the excitement simmered down a bit.

“While you’re approvals are very important to me, I’d also feel wrong proposing to Y/n without meeting her parents. Which I know is complicated. But she’s told me they’re still in America & I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me plan some sort of trip.. I think it’s important. But do you think Y/n would be okay with that? It’s been a while since she’s been back to America & I don’t want to put her comfort above mine.” Wendy felt more nervous now than she did asking for their approval.

“I can get you the contact information for her dads side of the family! They’d probably be better at planning this out with than us!” Kun’s grandma smiled.

“Honestly, I think it’s something that would be really good for Y/n.” Your grandpa spoke up “besides it’s not like she doesn’t have other family in America she gets along with. I know her fathers parents would be ecstatic to meet you!” He smiled.

“Wendy before we get too far past this subject, you don’t by chance have a ring picked out yet do you?”

Reaching out to your uncle on your fathers side was terrifying to Wendy.

You didn’t realize just how nervous you were to fly back to America until you boarded the plan. You didn’t realize how worried you were to be in America until Wendy pointed out if you squeeze her hand any harder you’ll break it. You apologized quickly loosing your grip before Wendy tightens her hold.

“I didn’t say you had to let go, I understand this is a lot for you” she reassured while you waited for your luggage.

Your uncle was in charge with picking you up from the airport and it didn’t really hit you until you saw his car pull up in the airport parking lot that you realized you’d be seeing the man who reminded you so much of your father for the first time in years. You didn’t mean to immediately break into tears when he greeted you, yet here you are bawling in his arms. He and Wendy both found it amusing, the ride to his house was thankfully very distracting from your worries as you got to hear him and Wendy talking & laughing. Your grandparents where waiting for your arrival. You had expected to be a complete mess upon seeing them again & you were correct. Although it was extremely emotional, it was good. You were catching up with your relatives & meeting your younger cousins in person for the first time. Both of them were much more interested in your pretty girlfriend than they were you, but can you really blame them? You had a big family dinner with talks of visiting your parents tomorrow before heading to bed with Wendy.

“Thank you so much” you muttered as you laid in bed hugging your girlfriend.

“Babe you don’t need to thank me for anything at all! I should be thanking you for introducing me to your family.” She smiled.

It wasn’t until the next morning when Wendy started to doubt her plans. While she very much wanted to meet your parents, she didn’t want to intrude on your first time seeing them in a long time..

“Are you sure you want me to come with? I can just stay in the car if you’d prefer?” Wendy asked for the nth time I’m the last 15 minutes alone.

“Wannie, baby please.” You said holding her hands. “I need you to be there for me. I’ve never visited my parents here. I’m terrified, you’ve been my only consistency since loosing my parents & I need you to be by my side. I don’t want to force you to come with if you’re uncomfortable, but I’m really not sure if I can do this without you.” You told her truthfully.

“Of course I’ll be there for you.” Wendy assures before you both headed towards the car.

“Well this is us.” Your uncle said before stopping in front of two headstones side by side. Both their headstones were beautifully crafted. It’s truly a shame given the circumstances as you will never be able to appreciate their beauty considering these were the markers to your parents. You instantly plopped to the ground, landing a bit harder than you intended.

“I’ve missed you both so much” you spoke. You had so much you wanted to say to your parents and now that you’re with them you are speechless.

“Uncle brought me here. Are you guys doing well? I actually brought someone with me as well. I’d really like you to meet her. She’s my girlfriend, I met her in college in South Korea we started as roommates. She treats me really well. I know you’d both love her so much” you spoke. Wendy knelt down besides you before she introduced herself. Watching her speak to your parents was extremely reassuring. Although tears were streaming down your face you also had a smile adoring your lips. Your uncle rubbed your back as you stood up & he motioned for you to take a few steps back from Wendy and your parents.

“Do you see that kid? You’ve found yourself a really good person. I know I cannot replace your parents, but I can assure you your father would agree with me when I say that I approve of her. They must be looking out for you huh?” He spoke softly your eyes never left Wendy’s form crouched in-front of your parents. You couldn’t hear what she was saying anymore, but had you been able to you would’ve heard her telling them her plan about asking to marry you soon. That she hoped they would approve of her. Letting your parents know she still had a few more approvals she wanted to get before officially asking you, but she promised to return with you as soon as she did. As you knelt down besides Wendy you heard her ensuring that she would take great care of you. Of course you had to vouch for her telling them she’s already doing so. You don’t recall how long you stayed and spoke to your parents, but you do know once you were done you were ready for a week long nap. Which you decided to start once you made it back to your uncles house. Wendy saw this as the perfect opportunity to speak with your uncle.

“If it’s not to much to ask do you think your parents and yourself could have a secret conversation without Y/n knowing?” She asked causing your uncle to raise a brow before she rushed to assure it was nothing bad. Of course he agreed and was happy to drive over to his parents house with her right then.

“Mom dad, Wendy has something to speak with us about” he announced walking into their house before even officially greeting them. Your grandmother was happy to invite them inside asking if they needed anything to drink before everyone was seated in their living room all eyes on Wendy.

“Okay I know this might be a hard question for me to ask you as you’ve only just met me, but I do actually have a reason for visiting.” Wendy started.

“I don’t need an answer now, just before Y/n and I have to leave would be great, but..” Wendy paused quickly digging something out of her bag before keeping the object concealed with her hands.

“I’m planning on asking Y/n to marry me, and your approvals all mean a lot to me. But with your approval of me I’d also like your blessing on the ring I will be using” Wendy moved to open the small box she was holding showing off the ring.

“How? Where did you get this?” Your grandmother spoke practically in tears

“When meeting with Y/n’s maternal grandparents I was informed about them having her mothers wedding ring. They told me it’s a family heirloom from your side and that they thought it would be a great way to pass it down to Y/n. However if you’d like I can find something else & you can keep this ring as I know it’s important to you guys” Wendy spoke before waiting for an answer.

“Wendy?” Your grandfather spoke causing her to make eye contact with him.

“I’ll give you my blessing under one condition”

“Anything” she replied feeling anxious.

“Use that ring when you propose” he spoke before your grandmother lightly smacked his chest

“You should make her promise to treat Y/n properly and force her to come visit us more not something she was already planning on doing!” She scolded

“You think she wasn’t planning on treating her well?!” Your grandfather argued back causing Wendy to let out a nervous laugh before your uncle stepped in & broke up their lovers quarrel.

“Wendy what my parents are trying to say is, absolutely you have our blessings!” He smiled.

To say Wendy was on cloud nine was a bit of an understatement. She had the approval of both sets of grandparents, your uncle, and your brother, as well as the rest of red velvet and Winwin pressuring her to pop the question already. She could only hope your parents would’ve approved of her the same way the rest of your family does. Her own family was also very excited upon hearing her plans to propose to you in the very near future. Now her only problem was figuring out when and where she wanted to propose to you. The two of you never specifically talked about an ideal proposal. In the back of her mind she was wildly aware that you’d be okay with her asking you to marry her in any fashion yet she still felt like it needed to be perfect. On the drive back to your uncles place all Wendy could think about was how she could possibly propose.

“You okay kid?” Your uncle spoke breaking Wendy out of her thoughts

“Yes, I’m just thinking about how and where I should propose. I want it to be special for Y/n.” She responded.

“Would you like my take?” Your uncle asked to which Wendy happily agreed.

“Well, I know you mentioned you wanted to have the family’s blessings- which you do- however I think it would be really nice of you to do it here in America. I’m not saying you need to propose at the cemetery, but I think if Y/n’s parents were included in some way or another that would make it extra special for her. Because while the rest of us are able to travel for your wedding, her parents unfortunately cannot physically join us. I know something Y/n spoke about doing was having a picnic with her parents, so maybe you could join her and either before or after having that picnic you propose? Again I’m just giving ideas nothing needs to be included!” Your uncle actually gave Wendy a good idea. Let’s hope you agreed as well.

Your last full day in America came sooner than you were ready for and all you wanted to do was see your parents again. Wendy had mentioned getting lunch and spending the afternoon with them so that you could have a little more time with them since you don’t know when you plan on returning and you really liked the idea. Your uncle agreed to drive you to get lunch for your ‘picnic’ if you will, before dropping you off to spend the afternoon with your parents.

“Let me know when you’re ready for me to pick you up! Be safe!” Your uncle hollered as you exit his car. It didn’t take long for you to set up the blanket before you both sat down & greeted your parents again. It was really comforting that you had someone else who was willing to talk to your parents the same way you were. Wendy made it feel as if the two of you had gone home to visit your parents as opposed to sitting in a cemetery in front of their headstones. After enjoying your lunch you both decided to lay down due to your full bellies.

“Thank you Wendy.” You spoke up not taking your eyes off the clouds

“You don’t have to thank me Y/n.” She was quick to respond.

“No you don’t understand how much this means to me. You came to visit my family with me, not only did you ensure I saw my parents, you also comforted me by making it feel like they’re still around. Today feels like we went to the park with them as opposed to you and I sitting in the cemetery they’re buried in. It means so much to me. I know my parents would absolutely love you.” It felt bitter sweet to think about your parents approval of Wendy. Yes you were your own person, yes you had extremely supportive parents when they were alive, you cannot help but wonder how they’d react to Wendy. What would your parents insist she call them? How long would you date before they asked if you had plans of getting married? Would your parents befriend Wendy’s parents? There was so much you wanted to know and experience with your parents. What about Wendy would your parents love? Before meeting Wendy when you wished to just have one more day with them you wanted to be able to say goodbye to them. after meeting Wendy when you wished to see your parents not only did you want to give them a proper goodbye, you wanted them to meet Wendy. You knew you’d never get the proper goodbye. What you didn’t expect was for any level of Wendy and your parents meeting. Granted this wasn’t nearly the same, but it meant so fucking much to you.

“Y/n?” Wendy asked softly after she sat up. You hummed in response sitting up yourself.

“Thank you for letting me meet your family, your grandparents, your uncle, your brother, your cousins, your parents, all of the family you’ve let me meet. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to meet them all. But I have something I need to confess to you” Hearing that last sentence made your heart and mind race.

“I’ve met with your grandparents, uncle, and Kun before getting this approval. I’d like to think your parents would give me this approval as well, but I will never truly know. Being your roommate, friend, and girlfriend have all been wonderful however I think we should upgrade our title once again if you’re okay with that” Wendy spoke

“Wait Wendy are yo-“ you tried to ask before Wendy continued answering your question

“Will you do me the honors of becoming my fiancé and eventually becoming my wife? I don’t see my life without you and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Y/n will you marry me?” Wendy asked before pulling out a box. Of course you said yes before she could open the box however once you saw your mothers ring you couldn’t help the mixture of sobs and ‘yes oh my god of course’ that left your mouth. You never realized how much your hand shakes until Wendy tried to put the ring on your finger. You both giggled after a few minutes of unsuccessful attempts before Wendy just took hold of your hand saying she’s put it on once you both calmed down.

“I know my parents would absolutely approve of this by the way” you spoke before giving Wendy a kiss.

“I hope i was able to make a good impression” she smiled along side you.

Once you climbed into your uncle’s care you heard him oohing and ahhing.

“Wow look at you all proposed to!” He beamed. Causing you to blush while you nodded. Showing off the ring that adorned your left hand perfectly.

Roommates, no refunds!

Reader x Wendy | featuring Brother!Kun, Nct, and Red Velvet. Will add more if there’s more.

Previous | 31 | Epilogue

When Kun’s sister transfers to SMU Korea & left without a place to stay due to a mix up, Sorority sister Wendy who got a double room instead of her single room gets a last minute roommate. Maybe?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[ourimpavidheroine]

Okay, @peoniequeen, here are your stories.

How many people do you know moved across the world for love? 

Well, you all know about this one. I met my late wife online in late 1998 on an X-Files message board, we emailed and then called, etc. until she came to the U.S. from Finland in September of 1999 to live with me for a year. After the year was up we relocated to Finland, in part because she could not legally immigrate to the U.S. during that time as a same-sex partner (Finland was a huge fucking pain in the ass about it but eventually they let me immigrate there based on our relationship status) and in part because we thought Finland would be a better place to raise kids due to healthcare, schools, etc. When I arrived in Finland it was the first time I had even been to Europe, never mind the country I was going to live in and the airline accidently left my two dogs in Amsterdam instead of putting them on the plane to Helsinki and I spent my first moments in my new home sobbing about my dogs until the very nice airline lady called for my late wife over the loudspeaker and let her come back and take me in hand (much the way Mako takes Wu in hand, if you must know). (Don’t worry, the airline put us up in a hotel next to the airport and the dogs came on the next flight and came to us there in a taxi the airline made arrangements for. They were completely fine and in fact weren’t sure what the fuss was about.) It was kind of a big culture shock. The end.

Or worked as a college radio DJ? 

I did! I had a show on Tuesday mornings from 4-6 am that nobody listened to but about 10 loyal people. (Kind of like my blog here, come to think about it.) I played a lot of old blues and jazz stuff that I’d grown up listening to. My Dad worked part time as a DJ at a local radio station so I knew how to work all the equipment and such thanks to him. (I also had a two hour slot on Wednesday nights there in high school where I played stuff teenagers wanted to listen to and not the never ending country western that the station owner and manager wanted played 24x7.) Yes, this was in the late 80′s-early 90′s when I was at university so it was all vinyl. I still have a collection of albums that have the gold stamp on them saying they are not for sale, that they are for radio station play only! (Some of them the aforementioned station manager gave me since they were not country and he was basically going to toss them into the trash and some of them were albums that I might have gotten through less altruistic means.)

Or was a makeup assistant to Drag Queens? 

I took a stage makeup course while I was majoring in theater at University and did so well with it that the guy who gave the class asked me to come and assist him at the San Francisco opera while they were essentially painting all of the singers brown in a classic racist move that was pretty well accepted in the 90′s but, thankfully, would be extremely frowned upon now. As I was doing it I struck up a friendship with one of the chorus tenors; it turned out he was a drag queen who sometimes did performances when he wasn’t doing opera. He was a Madonna impersonator (not a very good one, sorry to say) and he wanted me to help him design his makeup for it. So I went to the club he performed at a few times to get a better feel for how drag queens worked and then hung around backstage and ended up doing some designs for some of the other queens. The pay was basically me getting to see their performances for free and getting fed afterwards at whatever was open at 4 am but God it was fun. Also, now I am the most Judgy McJudgerson of ever when it comes to drag makeup on RuPaul’s Drag Race. The end.

Or wrote a letter to their Archbishop when they were twelve and got a personal answer in return? 

I was very put out by the fact that boys could be altar boys but girls got shit (I was Catholic, in case you haven’t guessed) and I was talking about it to my Grandma one time and she told me I should write a letter to the Archbishop and ask him why. Now see, my maternal Grandmother was married to a labor union president (my grandfather was still the president when he died of a heart attack when I was 8) and she was a good old fashioned liberal rabble rouser. Like, she got arrested with nuns protesting nuclear power plants in her muumuus and Birkenstocks, okay? She wrote letters to EVERYONE. So I sat down and very carefully wrote the letter and my Grandma made a few calls and got me the address and we sent the letter. I don’t think my Grandma actually thought I’d get a letter back (it was more of a teaching moment, if that makes sense) but he did send me a letter back! He was very kind, although his answer was the usual Catholic BS. I still have the letter but it is packed away in storage so I very sadly will not be producing it at this juncture in time.

Or drove from Los Angeles to Philadelphia in a 20 year old Volvo? 

My friend from university was going to Grad School at Temple University and her parents didn’t want her to drive the entire way by herself. So I drove with her in an orange 1971 Volvo sedan. (In fact, I drove about 90% of the trip because she didn’t like driving.) The air conditioning fan died as we were driving through the Mojave Desert on the way to Vegas and I realized that if I floored it the cool air would actually move itself and so I floored it all the way through the desert and we are lucky that fucking ancient hulk of Swedish steel did not die and leave us stranded to be baked to death. We stopped in Vegas (which was not as impressive in 1992 as it is today, trust me) and found a guy who could actually fix the fan and spent the night in one of the casino hotels before continuing on. We did stop in Chicago to stay with her grandparents for two weeks (where so many elderly Jews kept responding to my last name with confusion as they assumed I was Jewish that I eventually started to do genealogy and found out that I am, indeed, Jewish on my father’s side) and also we saw the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer film in Des Moines and went to a cowboy bar in Cheyenne (I learned how to line dance and my friend got completely trashed and I had to practically carry her back to the hotel) and many other adventures until we finally arrived in Philly and her parents flew me back to California. It was a great road trip and short of the reeeaaaally sketchy and filthy motel room in Salt Lake City that had both a half-empty Chinese takeout box and a soiled condom under the bed we had a grand time.

Or was part of a thruple? 

I have been part of two thruples. Well. Sort of. One thruple and one wanna be thruple. The first one, with my first husband and my girlfriend was a huge mistake from the get-go. (Oh god, she was so hot and the sex was so fucking good but she was really an awful person and my ex kept trying to control the entire thing and basically forced her into living with us instead of being just my girlfriend with benefits and the entire thing blew up and while it wasn’t the reason why I divorced him it didn’t help either.) The second one was with my late wife and our mutual boyfriend and it worked very well but he had a little boy from a former relationship and his son got very ill and died and he didn’t handle it at all and he disappeared out of our lives. It’s been 20 years, give or take, since I’ve talked to him. He asked us to no longer contact him and I’ve always respected that. And before you ask, he knows where I live and my email address is the same as it was all those years ago. If he wanted to find me it would be very easy for him to do so. He clearly doesn’t and I respect that. I wish him love and peace, wherever he is. I miss him still.

Or beat up the drunk lady in the hallway to get back a little girl’s keys?

Ah, I’ll tell this one tomorrow.

[awaylaughing]

I was playing around with the girls’ various backgrounds and a few wee HCs for some of them were spawned. There’s smth for each one here, some more or less though. (Pippa has the most tho bc I am. Very biased).

Aurora, Baroness Namaire

- wicked good at poker, she learned from her mother, and went on to teach all her siblings

- has a minor rivalry with one of her baronial neighbour’s wife: in a rare subversion from expectation though it’s centred entirely around creating Revair’s best plum wine, and growing the best northern plums in general. No one has died, been blackmailed, and so far, not one case of arson has occurred. It’s all very atypical.

- was named for her mother’s younger brother, Aurean, who backed the old empire during the coup and was executed for it.

- knows how to patch stucco and fix thatching, skills she’s not had any reason to flex since she was 17.

Michi of Holt

- hates super spicy food, or super spiced food, or even super sweet food – delicate pallet on this one.

- learned to draw because of her third tutor (the first two gave up) who realized that if he let Michi pick the class location and doodle, she learned way better than locking her in a room and yelling at her.

- had a really, really complicated relationship with her maternal grandmother Myrna of Brehna whom she loved, but also resented both for how her grandmother impacted her relationship with her dying mother, and her grandma’s ‘my way or the highway’ approach to teaching Michi etiquette.

- on the note of the Brehnas, Michi is related to Noa via that branch (Myrna’s father is Isador’s paternal grandmother’s brother - making Noa and Michi 4th cousins)

Noa of Hise

- despite the stereotype, much prefers to be decked out in silver (brings out her eyes)

- mildly dyslexic, she spent her childhood doggedly trying to hide her difficulties learned her grandfather, Bantim or “Bonny Tim”, had the thing.

- lived in Wellin for 3 hours after her mother died. Her father insisted they move back, and Noa, worried for his health agreed. Three days in one of Isadore’s brothers made an offhand remark about Blackthorn and Noa alike, and her father walked right out of the parlor and back onto the ship that had brought them to Wellin in the first place, a greatly relieved Noa trailing behind him.

- was terrified of heights when she was a younger, a condition she considered intolerable and thus found her scaling every vertical surface she could find. Cousins or her mother had to got fetch her down a few times, but she largely outgrew it and now she only get queasy very rarely.

Pippa of Corval

- was actually born an fraternal [edit bc I changed my mind] twin, however her sister died after only three days. Corvali traditions wait a week after birth to name children (or, the seventh night, to be more exact), so her sister was never named. Pippa doesn’t have much of an opinion about this, other than joking maybe sharing that space was why she ended up so short (a minor mystery in the family, as her mother’s quite tall and her father wasn’t tall but not really short, either)

- her snake was actually a gag gift to another girl, Mitra who hates snakes. Basically, Pippa cares for Hihissa 9/10 parts of the yeah, and whenever Mitra’s brother visits, Mitra holds her nose and pretends she’s totally been living with this snake for three years.

- looooves rose water sweets. And tea. A scented oils. Basically, smells like a rose garden all the time and aspires to eat one as well.

- had a reputation as a shockingly well behaved child, from the age 2 onward. In truth, she just figured out very, very young that if you agreed with the adults and then did what you wanted in secret, you got praise and could have fun.

- Once wore nothing but saffron dyed clothing for a whole season: it was on a dare by a lady hoping to beggar a rival. Alas for the lady, she did not realize the Pippa’s mother, Roshan, actually owns several acres of saffron fields. Roshan felt supporting her daughter’s flex was worth eating into the profits for a season (but just one).

- named for her aunt, Philippa, her father’s sister who died age 4. In fact, Philippa was meant to be her full first name but her mother never liked it, and so changed it to just be Pippa after Judicael died. A small selection of people do still insist on calling her Philippa however, assuming Pippa to be a familiar nickname.

- (technically her first name is Mehr, but that acts as a sort of generation name for girls in her family, and thus goes unused.)

- No one actually calls her Pip, she just wasn’t going to tell of a Princess so went the most obvious option outside of telling her Pippa is technically a nickname

- semi related to above: astonishes her mother with how much of her personality is a vivid reflection of Judicael’s, despite Pippa being born posthumously to him. The only major difference really is Pippa is more scheming - and from a Corvali perspective, Pippa’s an outright Non-Schemer, so that tells you more about Judicael than it does Pippa.

- lowkey hates wearing shoes, avoids when possible (and thus, pays special attention to her toes haha)

Temperance of Arland

- secretly a fan of adventure novels, especially “gentleman explorer” types. Her supplier is the head chef’s son, who leaves them under a bush in the garden for her to borrow from his rather less restricted collection.

- hates chocolate – cannot stand it in any form

- found out at 12 she was almost named Claudia and sort of wishes that had happened – there’s like 13 “princess Temperance”es in the Arlish royal family history, only two Claudias.

- is a natural blonde, but does secretly lighten her hair. As she grew up, it darkened to near-brown blonde. Temperance lightens it in pseudo-secret, because she’s not supposed to be so vain, despite also having to always be pretty.

- pretty neutral towards Innocent, who is 18 years her junior (she’s 25, having been just this side of 17 for the last Summit)

- in Zinnia’s World State, she’s a Wellish lady, daughter of a Landgravine, and far happier for it (her parents are basically a love match that was also politically astute, so it being recreated in another timeline is not unlikely).

Yaen of Jiyel

- grew up in the far, far south of Jiyel, and has never quite gotten used to the northern seasons in the capital.

- lowkey wanted to run away and be a pirate from ages 5-8, looking back, she’s not sure why she outgrew that particular wish

- would eat lemons like oranges except it makes her teeth feel worryingly weird

- when we say “minor lady” we mean it - the family was only entitled in the last three generations - Loda’s father being the rare true blue meritocracy story, going from poor fisherman’s son to high ranking civil servant in his life. Her mother in comparison didn’t have a title at all - but her family were wealthy merchants, specializing in dyes and fabric. Her stepmother, however, is the daughter of a (3rd rank) Marquis, but with three elder brothers that means very little in the land of titles - even for her step mother’s biological sons.

- the nickname used by her father, mother and older sister, Lian, is bug. For obvious reasons, she did not share this with Ana. Her step-mother could use it - Yaen wouldn’t mind, but doesn’t feel comfortable doing so for the simple reason that she’s a naturally anxious woman.

- it’s an open family secret she’s not actually Loda’s biological daughter, but she doesn’t know who her “real” father is. She’s not exceptionally curious about it however - in part because she doesn’t want to hurt Loda in any way more.

Zinnia of Arland

- is the only MC in my roster outside Pippa to have read the Corval Satires, Constance sent her an annotated collection six months before the Summit. “For research”.

- didn’t see her father once between the age of 1 and 7, spending those 6 years on her mother’s private lands while her mother coalesced and avoided her husband. As such, had very atypically non-stodgy (but by no means improper) childhood than most Arlish princesses (Helah is 100% going to be blamed for Zinnia marrying an Arlish Earl oh the shame)

- frequently broke into Prosper’s nursery growing up, because he was her brother and she wanted him to have as much fun with his big sister as she remembered having with Constance as a child (results: fewer frogs caught, but similar levels of big sister adoration from the younger sibling)

- her rebel streak has always been semi-obvious, usually in her doggedly dressing to her own standards – which usually just meant picking colours not necessarily in season (greatly favours greens and browns, not least because the Princess Dowager, her great aunt Evalina was overheard saying she looked like bog-witch in those colours)

[rootshml]

Meet the 2019 Roots Cohort

In search of their ancestral villages, 11 people of the Chinese diaspora hailing from the Bay Area and Boston will soon travel to the Pearl River Delta in Guangdong 廣東省, China. We will visit 5 different areas, including Kaiping 開平, Taishan 台山, Xinhui  新會, and Guangzhou 廣州. 

Sarah Tan 譚美婷

Village

My mother’s and maternal grandparents’ village. 永安村 (Yong’an Village) in 台山 (Taishan)

What do you do for fun?

I enjoy strength training at the gym, hanging out with friends and family, attending music concerts, watching basketball, and learning more about photography.

How did you hear about Roots?

My sister had a handful of co-workers who participated in Roots Plus (2018). They wrote a blog post for work and my sister shared it with me. I also recently found out that my favorite professor at UCLA was a rooter!

What are you looking to accomplish?

Growing up, my mother told me many stories about her humble beginnings and what it was like to grow up in a village. I look forward to living and experiencing the community and environment my mother and maternal grandparents came from before immigrating to the United States.

What are your expectations?

I do not have any expectations going in. I just know it will be a trip of a lifetime and this experience will help me reflect on who I am today

Choose a food that describes you?

 BURRITOS! Yummm!

Alexander Kwok 郭智光

Village

I would like to visit my paternal grandfather's village 隔塘村 (gaak tong cyun) in Zengcheng 增城. I decided to save my paternal grandmother's village 南朗鄉 in Shunde 顺德 for another time, as I have a lot more resources on my paternal grandfather's side than I do for my paternal grandmother.

What do you do for fun?

I like to read, play video games, blog, listen to music and podcasts, bake; go camping, hiking, kayaking; try new foods and explore new places!

How did you hear about Roots?

I've been doing research on my paternal grandfather's side of the family for 5 years now but hit a wall when I tried looking for our home village. As a lot of the resources seemed to focus on the Sze-yap area of 廣東 Province, I wasn't able to do much more and stopped trying to find it.

One day, I was looking for more resources and came across an old website under the Chinese Culture Center, which redirected me to the Him Mark Lai Digital Archive. After some exploring, I found the database of villages in 廣東 with associated surnames, but none of them included my home village.

I thought I had hit yet another brick wall - until I started googling one of the headers in the Digital Archive, "The Roots Program". I quickly found references to the program and old exhibits on a few websites but thought they might have stopped the program because I didn’t see anything recent. Imagine my surprise when I found the Friends of Roots site & the Tumblr blog…!

What are you looking to accomplish?

Growing up my paternal grandparents spoke mostly Cantonese, so I never got to ask them questions about their childhood, how they met, or what it was like to raise a family in Hong Kong, let alone about my ancestors or our home villages. I’m hoping to regain some of these stories from our family through visiting relatives in Hong Kong, where my grandfather’s and father’s generation grew up and paying my respects at family graves across Hong Kong.

Through visiting my paternal great-grandfather’s home village in China, I also hope to regain a sense of identity that our family has since lost. Even though my paternal great-grandparents left the home village to go to Hong Kong in the late 1930’s, my great-grandfather had to leave the family at the start of the war, because the family was afraid something would happen to him in a city under Japanese occupation. Our family never heard from him again, and it was presumed that he had passed away back in the home village. Though my grandfather has been back to the village in the late 2000’s, he didn’t talk much about his trip with the rest of our family, and we don’t have any records where the village may have been.

So, in visiting my home village and reconnecting with whatever family is left there, I hope to learn more about my great-grandfather and grandfather’s generation, as well as reconnect with family still there. I also hope to get a sense of what growing up in the village might have been like for my great-grandfather, what he liked to do, what the village looks like, etc.

What are your expectations?

I don’t have many expectations other than going back, reconnecting with family there, and seeing what the village looks like. My great-grandfather returned to the village in the early 1940s, so I would like to visit his grave if I can. I’ve heard that when my grandfather went back to the village, he rebuilt his father’s tomb at the time. 

But I can’t wait to taste all the delicious food in Hong Kong & Guangdong, learn more about overseas Chinese - including those who migrated to Southeast Asia, hopefully, and get a sense for what Southern China is like.

Choose a food that describes you?

Jakarta-style bakmie - It's something that I grew up eating as a part of birthday celebrations, represents both the Chinese & Tionghoa (Chinese Indonesian) sides of my family, & reflects on a range of experiences that I share with others being a part of multiple cultures.

Rachael Tang 鄧安琪

Kathleen Wong 黄玉明

Village Kaiping, Guangdong Province, China. 開平中股鄉赤坎屋上樓村. 

What do you do for fun? Rock climbing, running, cooking, and adventuring!

How did you hear about Roots? I heard about Roots through co-founder Al Cheng.  My boyfriend introduced me to him as we were having a delicious bun bo hue lunch.  At the end of the lunch, Al remarked that I probably have roots in Guangzhou.  We connected on Facebook and I saw his program posts.  I was intrigued, applied, and the rest is history!

What are you looking to accomplish? After an intimidating visit to Hong Kong in 2011, where I could not demonstrate enough language skills to get around, a visit to China seemed so intimidating.  This will be my first trip to the mainland so I’m hoping to get a better understanding of Chinese culture and connect it with my upbringing.

What are your expectations? Good food, good company, and hopefully not too many mosquitos!

Choose a food that describes you? Ice Cream :) Sweet and refreshing!

Jenny Lau 劉健儀

Village

漢塘村 in 台山市省冲蔞镇達材鄉. The village is where my parents were born and raised and also where my paternal grandfather was born and where my maternal grandfather grew up starting around five years old. 

What do you do for fun?

I enjoy hanging out with my friends, eating good food, being in nature, exercising, watching movies, sharing stories, being present. 

How did you hear about Roots?

I visited the Roots website after seeing a facebook post linking to it from a friend.

What are you looking to accomplish?

I am looking to better understand my parents by visiting the village where they were born and grew up and to imagine what life must have been like for them. I also want to talk to people who might remember my grandparents and have information about them.

What are your expectations?

I would like to connect with my fellow Rooters, hear their stories and why they wanted to do Roots, visit my village with my brother, who is also a Rooter this year, and to see the village that he chose. I would like to learn more about Chinese history, especially when my parents and grandparents were living in China and to contextualize family events within broader Chinese history.

Choose a food that describes you

Some of my staple foods: white rice with laap cheng and chau baak toi thlem (Chinese sausage with stir-fry baby bok choy) and unsweetened Hong Kong (HK) style milk tea. The rice dish appears simple but is very hearty like me, with the right mix of meat/veggies, sweet/savory. At the same time, I am unique in my bold and deep expressions, similar to HK milk tea, which is a unique spin to a classic tea with milk concept but it's particularly bold in flavor because it's double- or multi-brewed and it's full of depth from evaporated/condensed milk. 

  Michael Tom 譚振豪

Village: 台山水步毛坪村 (Taishan Shuibu Maoping Village)

What do you do for fun?  I like to do indoor bouldering, taking photos, and hanging out with people

How did you hear about Roots?

My cousin, Scott Leung, and my aunt and uncle, Ray and Karen Leung, all went on Roots and recommended that I check it out

What are you looking to accomplish?

I just wanted to see where my grandfather grew up and where my greatgrandfather and greatgrandmother lived

What are your expectations?

 I didn't have any expectations because my family hasn't had any communication with the village since for the past 40 years. I went in with an open mind, ready to accept every new experience

.Choose a food that describes you? 

Kettle Corn. Savory is serious. Sweet is fun. I'd like to think I'm both, but also 90% hot air.

Angela Yip 叶嘉宝

Village

Wong Cyun in Toisan - 台山 三合 潢村 河清里. This is my paternal great grandfather's village

What do you do for fun?

Eat! There's so much amazing food in the Bay Area. I also love keeping up with my bullet journal, going on hikes, and reading fiction. I've really been enjoying reading books by Asian American female authors lately. Some recent favorites are Chemistry by Weike Wang, Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng, and A Place for Us by Fatima Fahreen Mirza.

How did you hear about Roots?

I heard about Roots from my mom's cousin's wife Liana Koehler, Roots alum and Roots lecturer. It came up in conversation at dinner after my grandpa's funeral. She said I had to do Roots, and I was immediately sold. Roots came at the perfect time.

What are you looking to accomplish?

I am hoping to learn more about a side of my family that I don't know much about--my paternal grandma's side. I grew up extremely close to my grandma, and I want to be able to show her pictures of her father's village because she was never able to visit. I also just want to learn more about Toisan, even basic information like what people eat and grow and what they do for fun. Both sides of my family are from Toisan, so it has shaped my family and my experience of being Chinese in the US in huge ways, but I know very little about the region.

What are your expectations?

I hope to find the right village! Other than that, I am trying to approach my rooting with little expectation and to stay open to whatever might happen. I expect it to be an emotional experience for me for sure.

Choose a food that describes you?

Fried rice from Fung Wah on Mission Street in Daly City

Jeffrey Lau 劉健仁

Village: I'm visiting my paternal grandma's village of 衝洋向南村

What do you do for fun? I hang with people that are easier for me to hang with for fun.

How did you hear about Roots? I learned about Roots two years ago from a friend's Facebook feed! I marinated on the idea of applying until I actually did.

What are you looking to accomplish? I’m looking to reflect on my relationships with family members who’ve had the most direct impact on my life—like the one with my paternal grandma, who raised me. I want this trip, in the long run, support my process of grounding more of my life in my Chinatown organizing work.

What are your expectations? My expectations are simply to get a feel and look of where my grandma grew up. She don't tell me much herself, so I’m gonna discover more about her myself.

Choose a food that describes you? I'm gonna say fries. Fries done well are golden and crispy, but get kinda whack over time as they get soggier. I usually start strong in many things but my energy dips over time and some times I'm kinda whack towards the end, haha...

Hannah Yee 余壽玉 

Village - Dick Hoi, Toisan

Fun - I dance, garden, bake, and love being in the outdoors

Hear about Roots - Through my sister who found out through social media haha

Accomplish - (?) in life? in roots? - For Roots I wanted to accomplish finding my village, seeing the school I have heard so much about, and finding a base of friends who want to explore their Chinese American identities together and eat good food together. Expectations - I didn't know what to expect from this program. I expected it would be exciting, rigorous, tiring, and fun. I also expected it to be like solving a mystery/Clue/puzzle

Food - Dung/Jung - Have to open up the leaves to enjoy the inside! Filled with surprises like peanuts, lup cheong, egg, etc. Warm, comfort food that is a classic! Picture - I'll send you one once I get home!

Fiona Wong 黃寶賢

1. Village

中國廣東省台山市白沙鎮潮境众亨鄉潮興里

Bak Sa, Toishan

2. What do you do for fun?

I enjoy exploring new places, trying new things, and checking things off my to-do/travel bucket list during my free time. I love spending quality time with friends and family while having delicious food. As long as it is a day with blue skies, I do not mind what I'm doing as long as I'm outside!

3. How did you hear about roots?

I heard about roots through a friend who went on this program and shared her experience through social media.

4. What are you looking to accomplish?

I am looking to dive deeper into the history of China and Chinese immigration to the states with emphasis on Cantonese and Toishanese context. I am excited about the opportunity to visit other villages in the Pearl Delta River Region and to return to my ancestral village.

5. What are you expectations?

I did not have much expectations going in other than hoping that our cohort will support one another wholeheartedly.

6. Choose a food that describes you

Some type of dish that has onions because I have a lot of layers.

Nicole Wong 王雅斯 

 Village

I'm visiting my paternal great grandfather's village: 江門市蓬江區荷塘镇三丫沙滘村.

What do you do for fun?

I love to cook food and sing with friends, join the occasional pick-up soccer game, try different dance classes, read, and get outside.

How did you hear about Roots?

I first learned about Roots from my mom, but it wasn't until I heard Steve Owyang speak about the program at a CAA anniversary dinner that I seriously considered applying.

What are you looking to accomplish?

To learn more about my family's history so I can understand myself better and connect more deeply with my Chinese heritage.

What are your expectations?

To meet my Xinhui relatives and see the village, old house, house, and gravesite of my ancestors.

Choose a food that describes you?

Peanut butter (because I love it and chew on ideas/questions for a while

[queenhollyberry90]

It's All Relative! The Story of How Lost Relatives Found Us When We Didn't Even Know They Existed

Growing up I had always known where my family had come from and although I was and still am an avid lover of history it wasn't until the birth of my daughter back in 2014 that I decided to, while on maternity leave, look and create an official family tree for her to look over when she was older as to know as I did growing up where she came from. Because I had grown up hearing names and stories about my maternal family nothing really came as a shock to me as I built that side of the tree outside of marriage dates and the births of the first born mere months later. (Should I have be surprised? Not really. Was I anyways because I think of my ancestors as prudes due to the media's portrayal of last couple hundred years? Duh!) My paternal side however was a bit of a mystery as my Papa had been adopted at a rather young age and my Babi was from an immigrant family that had come from Czechoslovakia which meant that when it came to that side of the tree it was rather stubby. Like my dad, his parents and their parents stubby. I was lucky enough however to come in the possession of my Papa's own genealogical research that allowed me to grow his side of the tree at least and let me tell you did it ever explode!

My Papa's adopted family was quiet prestigious back in the day and not only that but back in the early/mid aughts' he had found his birth mother and thanks to research one of his younger half-brothers did that tree explode as well. His biological father however remained a mystery as so we fast forward to Christmas in the year 2018 when my husband gifts us both with an Ancestry DNA test and boy was I ever excited and completely not expecting what came next.

At this point dear reader you are probably think oh you found his biological dad and what not and while I'm pretty sure I did that is another story completely for you see this story is about my husbands family and some unexpected news they received back at the start of February 2021. 

My husband, Josh, as I had mentioned earlier also took that DNA test out of curiosity over missing ancestry as well since his biological father like my Papa had been adopted and he had been told his whole life that he had Native ancestry. Spoiler Alert!! He doesn't. Not even a little and was it ever devastating to him. Despite this he had me set up a family tree for him with the express instructions of maternal side only and I did, he wants nothing to do with his biological dad and that side and I'm going to respect that wish. It's at this point that you're thinking 'oh hey someone on his dad's side messaged him' and that is completely wrong. Plot Twist!!

In early February Josh told me that had received an email from Ancestry telling him that he had received a message from a woman I shall refer to as J and when asked he said he wasn't going to read it, turns out I also got an email notification from Ancestry telling me that J had sent me a message as well and unlike Josh I actually read it. On behalf of an elderly family member J was looking into what happened to a woman named Dorothy and gave us information that exactly matched that of Josh's grandmother and so I told her that and gave her my email just to make communication easier. I had thought that perhaps this elderly woman who was searching for her was a cousin or some such who wanted to know where her relative went following World War 2. The information I gave to J was what I had been told about Dorothy and I shall reiterate it to you now:

Dorothy was born in England  and hated her name, she had married a man prior to WW2 and the impression everyone got (or at least I did was that he'd died during the war), her parents were dead and she moved to London with a cousin and met and fell in love with Josh's grandfather, married him and immigrated to Canada where she changed her name to Joan and shaved a couple of years off of her actual age. I've been told that she was fun and sassy and wore the pants and didn't let age slow her down from enjoying life.

Here is what J ended up telling me in her response: Dorothy's husband did not die and they actually had 2 daughters together, A and B. Her parents hadn't died either. In 1939 she vanished from their lives, not completely, it sounds like they knew she went to London, for what purpose I have yet to ask, and died. At least that's what A and B were told but it seems like her husband knew it was coming. Rumours around town was that she had run off with an American or Canadian G.I. but the family was adamant in telling the girls that she was dead. A marriage record was found by J showing that Dorothy had married a man with the last name Knott which led her to Josh and myself.

In a way Dorothy did die and in her place Joan was born. Why she left her family we'll never know. No one who would know the answer to that question and many more are unfortunately long gone. Josh as well as his one uncle and his wife are glad that this information didn't get out while Dorothy/Joan was still alive and while I understand why and how this revelation could have harmed the relationships she had with her family and even her husband had the information come out when he was alive I can't help but think about all of the questions this brings up. She had been 18 when she had married her first and only legal husband and it is my guess that she was most likely pregnant at the time so I can understand if she wasn't in love with him but from that the question arises of did he make her that unhappy that she just had to leave? Was it because he was abusive? (This one seems unlikely from the information I've been told but one never knows). Did her second husband know? Not just about her first husband but about her kids? Did she ever try to contact them? Did she want to take them with her but couldn't? Is this whole situation why she actually changed her name? I know divorce was a hard thing to get back then but did she even try? It's going to drive me insane! All I know is that everyone in the family is aware of the situation now and Josh's one uncle, K, has been in contact with J and through her A and luckily their is no hard feelings. As he has pointed out it happened 80 years ago and theirs nothing they can do and no more answers to be had. I can't understand fully why Dorothy did what she did but then again I wasn't in her shoes and don't know her history, prior to this I knew barely anything about the woman and now I know even less. 

I'm sure at this point one is asking 'Holly. what is the point of you writing this?' and also 'her grammar sucks!' To which I say I have no idea and I'm more then aware that it probably does. The thing for me in this whole tale is this, history is fucking interesting and one might look at their family tree and think they already have all the answers, that you've been told all the stories but the truth is you haven't not even a little bit. I thought I had known everything but one day when I had been talking to my grandma about if a great-great grandmother really did have siblings she told me a story I had never heard of involved a bank robbery by said great-great grandmother's brother and the subsequent suicide attempt by their mother who threw herself into a sewage well from embarrassment over what had happened! 

Don't be afraid dear readers to ask your family questions, to make your own tree and connect with people online who are the twigs or potentials twigs on the branches because you never know what you may find.

[pof203]

Rockababy OC: Rosa-Maria Montoya

This is my OC for Rockababy by c2ndy2c1d. I was originally going to add a picture, but I know I can’t recreate her art. So I’ll try to describe it as best as I can.

Rosa-Maria Montoya’s Story

She’s cute. She’s independent (but not above finding love). She’s strong. She’s kind. She’s helpful... She’s a witch.

To know her full story, click “read more”.

NOTE: Some elements of Kiki’s Delivery Service, Charmed (Original and/or Reboot), American Horror Story: Coven, Witch Craft Works, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and even Elemental Magick (The Donavan Coven) are present.

NOTE 2: I also like to apologize in advanced to all of the followers of Santa Muerte for using her in a way that they may find offensive.

Rosa-Maria Montoya is a young 13-year-old Mexican-American witch-in-training. She has bright-brown eyes, brown hair with braids, and has some marking on the side of her check that was put on her when she was baby to welcome her to the coven. She lives with her parents, both her grandparents, and their coven in El Paso, Texas. Her coven follows the ways of Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte (Our Lady of the Holy Death). Of course, each member has their own patrons they call upon, but Santa Muerte is their main patron. However, Rosa-Maria has yet to find her own patrons until she can discover what her skill, a branch of magick that she is best good at.

One day, Rosa-Maria was just laying around in the park with her father’s radio telling the news.

“... the comet, Wolfgang 90, will be passing over North America sometime this year. However, there is no guarantee that it will be seen in the El Paso skies. And now for the weather forecast. Skies are clearing thanks to some winds coming in from the west... There’ll be a beautiful full moon this even. So if you’re planning something special, tonight might be the night. Moving on to sports.”

Rosa-Maria turns off the radio and sees the forecast was right. The wind was blowing almost all of the clouds away. It is then that Rosa-Maria finally decided.

It is an old custom that when a witch turns 13, they have a choice to either train a year away from home or go to a school of magick.

She runs home to tell her family. At first, they were unsure as she is still young in their eyes. However, their coven’s supreme, Annabelle Sanchez, convinced them.

“I still think she should go to Magic School,” said Abuela, Rosa-Maria’s paternal grandmother.

“Or Miss Robichaux’s Academy,” said Grandma, Rosa-Maria’s maternal grandmother.

“Either way, you’d be safe,” said Grandpa, Rosa-Maria’s maternal grandfather.

“I remember when I turned 13,” said Annabelle with a smile. “They said I could become the Supreme of the New Orleans Coven, but their reigning Supreme at the time, Mimi DeLongpre, chose Anna-Leigh Leighton. But this is mainly because it turned out I was to become the Supreme of my own coven. I found my own path. I think it’s only fair you should let your daughter do the same.”

“Si,” said Abeulo, Rosa-Maria’s paternal grandfather. “But we’re still worried. Rosa-Maria barely knows how to fly. And I’ve no time to teach her how to mix potions like me.”

“Young people are all the same. They all want to do something different… But at least you get to teach her the potion that cures my husband’s Rheumatism.”

Later, Rosa-Maria got ready in her room. Her mother gave her a dark Goth-Lolita dress, though not too many laces.

“And now for the finishing touch,” said her mother, placing a black cape over Rosa-Maria and topped it off with a black pointy hat.

“Oh, Mom, this looks so… stereotypical.”

“It’s not important on what you wear, what matters is the heart inside.”

“Then I’ll try to be the very best witch that I can be, Mom. And I know having a good corazon is important.”

“Just follow your heart and keep smiling. And be sure to write home as soon as you’re settled.”

“Si, Mommi.”

As Mrs. Montoya leaves, Mr. Montoya comes in.

“Papi, did you say I could bring the radio? Mom, didn’t he say I could bring the radio?”

“Alright, it’s yours already,” said Mr. Montoya.

“Gracias.”

“Well now, you look certainly grown up, mi pricessa. You look just like your mother when she was young.”

“I’m glad about that. Papi, can you left me up high like when I was little?”

Mr. Montoya tries to pick up his daughter. At first it was hard, but he got to it.

“I can’t believe my Vision didn’t tell me that you were growing up so fast. But if things don’t work out, you can always come home.”

“And come back a failure? Ew, no way!”

They laugh.

“Will you write us if you have the time?”

She nods.

Later that night as the full moon grew higher and higher, members of the coven, their neighbors (witch, human, and otherwise) came to see Rosa-Maria off.

“But aren’t you worried about Rosa-Maria going off on her own?” asked a human neighbor. “She doesn’t even have a Whitelighter yet. Or even discovered her Skill. And there are a lot of things to worry about: Warlocks, monsters, witch hunters, other witches, and even…”

“Of course they’re worried,” assured his witch wife. “but Rosa-Maria will be just fine.”

Rosa-Maria was speaking to her friends.

“Do you think you’ll find a big city?” asked a Tigua girl.

“Or maybe a town?” asked a witch girl.

“Well, that’s what I’m hoping for anyway,” answered Rosa-Maria.

“Oh, you’re going to have so much fun,” said a jealous fairy girl.

“But I’m not going there just for a good time. In order to be a proper Workshop Witch, I have to train a year away from home.”

“Yeah, be sure to tell that to the vatos,” said a human girl.

The friends all laughed.

“Rosa-Maria, it’s time,” said Grandma.

“Okay,” she responded going over to the adults.

“That’s the broom you’re going to be leaving on?” asked Grandma.

“Si,” answered Rosa-Maria, proudly. “I just made it this morning all by myself.”

“Honey, it’s too small to be really safe. I’d rather you take my broom. I know it better.”

“But Grandma, that one’s so old.”

“And that’s why it’s good. You can rely on it time after time in any kind of weather. Now Rosa-Maria, do this for us, please.”

“But I put so much work into this one. Right, Mimi?”

Mimi looks up to her witch.

“Your broom is nice… But let’s take your grandma’s.”

“You’re no help.”

“Now, mija,” said Abuela. “Can’t you make yourself another fine broom when you get settled down?”

Rosa-Maria knew there was no escaping this. So, she hands her broom to Grandma and takes her broom. With that, Mr. and Mrs. Montoya wish their daughter safe. As do both her grandparents.

“Attention,” announced Annabelle. “Friends, neighbors, members of our coven. Tonight, a young witch is about to embark on a journey from childhood to adulthood. We wish her only the best of luck as she heads out into the world on her own for one year, only seeing us during our celebrations. Rosa-Maria Montoya, are you ready?”

“Ready, Madame Supreme.”

“Then… Take off!”

With that, Rosa-Maria mounted her broomstick. At first, she hovered a few feet of the ground… Then, she and Mimi zoomed off. She hit a few trees which bells were hanging off of.

“Aim your broomstick,” whispered Mrs. Montoya.

All was quiet for a time. Then, Rosa-Maria’s voice came in the distance.

“Adios, everybody! I’ll miss you!”

“Santa Muerta,” prayed Mr. Montoya. “And all of the patrons we call upon, please make sure our little baby be safe and well in the world.”

“I’m going to miss the wonderful sound of those bells,” said another neighbor.

Rosa-Maria and Mimi traveled the skies for many, many days. They would stop by at a motel from time to time. Though every town they have been to either already a lot of witches who were not so welcoming of them. She would move on.

One night, Rosa-Maria was so tiered of flying, she and Mimi settled in a train for the evening. The train then begins to move as the two were fast asleep.

NOTE 3: Now keep in mind, I don’t know where Rockababy took place, though I suspect it’s somewhere in the north west of America.

That morning, Rosa-Maria looks out of the train and sees a town.

“How lovely,” said Rosa-Maria, delighted. “I wonder if they have a witch there.”

“You know they may be a bad thing,” said Mimi.

Rosa-Maria and Mimi both get on the broom and take off into the air. Rosa-Maria was astounded by the view of the town.

“Look at the place,” she said. “It’s the kind of place I’ve always imagined.”

“But there may be some witches living here already,” said Mimi.

“And there may not be.”

Rosa-Maria then flies her broom around until she spotted a cliff that overlooked the town. She wondered if she could see the whole town from up there. As they arrived up there, Rosa-Maria just hovered near the cliff… She didn’t even notice a car pulling up on the cliff. Then, some greasers we all know and love come out.

NOTE 4: By this time, Richie and Ace are already greasers themselves.

“Finally, the weekend!” said a relieved Brick.

“Yeah,” said Boomer, places his arms around Brick. “Those tests were brutal.”

“Nobody said Senior Year would be easy,” said Ace. “Unlike Richie, he’s got it all made.”

“Aww, it wasn’t all that easy for me,” Richie said. “I think I got a wrong answer in Geometry.”

“’A’ wrong answer?” said a suspicious Bones.

“You really had to bring that up?”

“Chill, you guys,” said Shifty, adjusting his sunglasses. “We all have our own thing… And you’re gonna wake her.”

Looking in the back, Buttons was fast asleep.

Then, Bones notices Rosa-Maria flying near the cliff.

“What on earth is that?”

“Wait,” said Richie. “Broom and a black cat… And that hat… HOLY SMOKES, A REAL LIVE WITCH!”

Rosa-Maria heard Richie yelling. She turns around and sees the Bozos.

“Hello!” she calls out to them.

They greet her back.

“Do any witches live in this town?”

“No one has seen any around here in a long time,” answered Shifty.

“That’s great. Our trip is over. We’re staying right here. Thanks, you guys. Bye!”

With that, Rosa-Maria takes off.

“A real witch in our town,” said Richie. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“My father never liked witches,” said Ace. “He thinks they’re nothing but a bunch of old hags… Boy is he wrong.”

“I just wish I could take a closer look and get to know her. What are witches really like?”

Then, Shifty starts the car.

“Why don’t we find out?” he asks.

With that, the Bozos get in the car and drive into town.

Rosa-Maria then flew into town.

“They’re looking at us,” said a worried Mimi.

“I know,” said Rosa-Maria. “Smiling so we can make a good impression.”

Rosa-Maria was enjoying the attention so much. She closed her eyes to see how daring she is to fly without seeing.

“Yeesh,” said Mimi. “You’d think they’ve never seen a girl and a cat on a broomstick before.”

But then, they nearly hit a bus. Rosa-Maria managed to fly out of the way, but ended up causing a five car pile-up.

“Smooth,” said Mimi, sarcastically. “Very smooth. You definitely know how to make a good first impression.”

A cop comes and yells at Rosa-Maria. Fortunately, one of the Bozos managed to distract the cop for her to escape. Richie catches up to her and begins asking her a bunch of questions.

“Are you really a witch? How do your spells work? Did you come from a coven? How far can you fly on your broom? How do you even make it fly? Do you worship the devil or some other great being?”

Rosa-Maria was starting to get fed up and snaps at Richie.

“Thank you for getting me out of trouble. But I really shouldn't be talking to you, and you wanna know why? It's very rude to talk to a girl before you've been introduced and before you know her name.”

With that, she takes off on her broom.

Rosa-Maria and Mimi try to find a place to stay for the duration of Rosa-Maria’s training. They were unsuccessful. After wondering around town for so long, they arrive at the neighborhood of Richie and his mother, Dr. Cunningham. They saw the Bozos’ car coming up.

“They must live here,” suggested Mimi.

Rosa-Maria was thinking of taking off again, but Dr. Cunningham comes out with a teddy bear.

“Boomer, your sister and her daughter were visiting us. But when they left, they forgot your niece’s teddy bear.”

“That ain’t good,” said Boomer. “Lily loves that teddy bear.”

“Do you think you can take it to them?”

“That’d be hard. The in-laws don’t exactly like us. Especially me and Brick. And it ain’t just ‘cause we’re greasers.”

“Oh dear, I have some work to finish up, but I guess I better go there myself.”

Rosa-Maria could not stand the thought of a child being away from her favorite toy.

“Excuse me.”

“Oh, it’s you again,” said Ace.

“If you like, I can take the bear to them.”

“You would?” asked Dr. Cunningham.

“Just tell me where they live.”

“My sister and Lily live with the in-laws on Starlight Heights,” said Boomer. “But how-“

Before Boomer could finish, Rosa-Maria takes the bear and takes off into the air on her broom. Dr. Cunningham was amazed.

“I guess I better tell you,” said Richie.

After Rosa-Maria brought the teddy bear to Boomer’s niece, she returns to the Cunningham residence.

“I brought back her teddy. Her mother even gave me this note to give you.”

Dr. Cunningham takes the note and reads it.

Thank you for returning Lily’s teddy bear. Your new friend is really quite special.

“And thank you,” said Boomer.

“Well, I’ll be going,” said Rosa-Maria.

“Wait,” said Dr. Cunningham. “You should at least let us thank you for what you did for my sis and niece.”

They went inside in which Boomer made a great dinner for them all.

“Now stop me if I’m right,” said Dr. Cunningham. “I’m guessing you’re a witch-in-training.”

“That’s right,” answered Rosa-Maria.

“Like I told you,” said Richie, smiling.

“I really it here, but people don’t seem to like witches here. Even the lady’s parents-in-laws weren’t too happy to see me fly in.”

“Depends on the people,” said Dr. Cunningham. “Now take us for instance. I just met you and I know I like you.”

“Even though you’re a scientist?” asked Richie.

“True, as a scientist, I find stuff like this dubious. But the one rule about being a scientist is keeping an open mind. After all… We know anything is possible in this world.”

She winks at Shifty who winks back. Mimi is confused.

“So, where are you two staying?”

Rosa-Maria just looks down.

“I see. Why didn’t you say you don’t have a place to stay? We have plenty of room in the attic, you could use that.”

“You’d really let me stay with you!?”

“Of course,” Dr. Cunningham laughed. “But I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Clara (just made up that first name) Cunningham. As you now know, I’m a scientist. You’ve already met my son and his friends.”

“I’m Richie. Despite my new greaser look, I’m still interested in science.”

“I’m Boomer. Need anythin’ done in the kitchen, I’m your guy.”

“Just call me Brick. I just got my black belt.”

“Bones. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Ace. I should really tell me father how wrong he is about witches.”

Shifty goes up to Rosa-Maria.

“Shifty.”

They shook hands.

“Muy bien,” said Rosa-Maria. “I’m Rosa-Maria. Rosa-Maria Montoya. And Mimi is my very best friend.”

A little later, Dr. Cunningham and the Bozos lead Rosa-Maria to the attic.

“I’m sorry if the place will be dusty,” said Dr. Cunningham. “We haven’t been up there in a while.”

“I think I can manage,” assured Rosa-Maria.

They went into the attic which was indeed a bit dusty.

“This place could use a little cleaning,” said Dr. Cunningham. “If I already wasn’t busy with my work, I’d help you clean… But I’m sure my son and his friends can help.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Richie, nervously. “But I guess it can also mean I can ask you some questions.”

“You mean like if I worship the Dark Lord?” asked Rosa-Maria, sternly. “Well, I won’t deny it, there are a few Satanic covens in the world. Like the Church of Night. But don’t worry, I’m not a member of any of those covens. The El Paso Coven follows Santa Muerte. But each member does have their own patrons. Like my dad who calls on Apollo to help him with his prophecies. My mom invokes Athena for crafting talismans. Abuela calls Hermes for her séances. Abuelo calls Asclepius to help with his potions. And both my maternal call upon Demeter for their harvest.”

“And what patron do you call on?” asked Richie.

“I’ll know once I’ve discovered my Skill, the branch of magick that I’m best at.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ve already said by my families’ patrons. My dad’s a fortuneteller who uses tea leaves and tarot cards. My mom crafts amulets and talismans. Abuela is a medium, aside from being able to see and hear ghosts like all witches do, she can call them even from the beyond and can even hear the voices of the gods. Abuelo is a potion maker, he made a killing with eye drops that can cure nearsightedness. And my maternal grandparents are good with Farm Magick. I’m still trying to figure out what my Skill is.”

“Well, I hope you find it,” said Bones.

“Now, if you need anything, just give a holler,” said Dr. Cunningham.

“Thanks,” said Rosa-Maria.

Rosa-Maria and Mimi stayed with the Cunninghams many weeks. Rosa-Maria continued to find her Skill. She tried Fortunetelling, but had little success. Her amulets and talismans may look pretty, but hardly produced results. Now, she was ready to try Potions.

“Potions, you say?” asked Dr. Cunningham. “One of the closest things witchcraft has in common with science. I hope you succeed.”

“Same here,” said Rosa-Maria. “It won’t be easy, though. One of the potions I’m making needs herbs that have more power when picked under the full moon.”

“That’s tonight,” said Richie. “Actually, me and some of my friends are going to the cliff area. That’s the place we first met you.”

“Why?”

“It’s just something we do… That, and I’m hoping to do some research.”

“On what?”

Richie smiles and says, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Oh,” said Rosa-Maria. “I suppose. Still thank you. I hope Potions is what I’m good at.”

“If not, you could always fly around on your broomstick and deliver stuff.”

“… I think that’s already taken.”

Later that night as the full moon rises, Rosa-Maria, Mimi, and the Bozos (except for Ace) go to the cliff overlooking the town. Richie was wearing his regular nerdy clothes (says it would be more appropriate).

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” said Rosa-Maria. “I could have flown up here, but after what happened when I first got here, better safe than sorry.”

“We just like it up here,” Shifty said coolly.

“I wonder why Ace isn’t here?”

“Family matters,” said Richie. “Something with his father.”

“I see. Sorry for asking.”

“It’s okay,” said Brick. “So, what are we looking for.”

“Richie helped me research some of the plant life that grow around here. Here’s a list of the things we can find.”

Rosa-Maria hands them a copy of a list of herbs and ingredients for the potion she is making.

“Some of these don’t look hard to find,” said Boomer. “Some of ‘em I use in my cookin’.”

“That sound great,” said Rosa-Maria in grateful glee.

“Just hope he knows to cover his ears if he finds a mandrake,” said a worried Mimi.

With that, Rosa-Maria goes off with Mimi and the other Bozos go to find the potion ingredients. Shifty decides to stay with the car. When he was sure that Rosa-Maria was out of sight, Shifty goes to the car and looks in the back to find Buttons just waking from her nap.

“I think we have time,” said Shifty. “Wanna see somethin’ great?”

Buttons squeaks in agreement.

Shifty takes Buttons and turns on the radio and places her on the car hood as the headlights shined. Then, Shifty takes a lollipop and holds it like a microphone and begins lips synch the song that was playing… Only You by The Platters. As he nears the end of the song, Shifty returns to his true alien form. The other Bozos who heard him couldn’t help but join in. What none of them knew before it was too late… Rosa-Maria and Mimi saw the whole thing. They were shocked.

“Rosa-Maria!” said a reeling Shifty, changing back to human form. “I can explain!”

But Rosa-Maria just screamed and she and Mimi tried to take off on her broomstick which she brought with her in case of emergencies. But Brick grabs a hold of it and yanks it from her. They try to run, but the other Bozos managed to stop her. Shifty, back in his human form tried to explain, but Rosa-Maria was too scared.

“You are a Demonic Shapeshifter, aren’t you?” she said with nervousness.

“I’m not,” responded Shifty.

“Then, you some kind of monster.”

“Maybe. But I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“What kind of monster can change into a human from some kind of lizard?”

“… An alien?” responded Richie.

“No way. Aliens can’t be real… Can they, Mimi?”

“Who knows,” said Mimi. “We know it’s possible to reanimate a corpse with science. Maybe they are real.”

Rosa-Maria thought for a moment. Finally, she spoke.

“Okay, so maybe you are an alien. How do I know I can trust you?”

Buttons came out of Shifty’s jacket and squeaked. Seeing her, Rosa-Maria couldn’t help but see the innocence in her eyes.

“I think you have your answer,” said Bones.

“Si,” said Rosa-Maria. “I understand. I’m sorry. Los siento.”

“It’s understandable,” said Shifty. “You probably never saw anything like this. I bet even witches would be surprised.”

“Actually, we have seen something like this. It usually scares us.”

“How?” asked Richie. “Does this have something to do with you calling Shifty some demonic shapeshifter?”

“Pretty much. But I’ll tell you later. Right now, it would be foolish just standing around here in the darkness. Let’s just finish gathering what we need and go.”

After gathering all the ingredients she needed, Rosa-Maria, Mimi, the Bozos, and Buttons all leave.

Back at the Cunningham house, Rosa-Maria got right away working on her potion. Ace had already returned from visiting his father in prison. They explained what had happened.

“So I guess the secret’s out now,” said Ace. “But I’m sort of on edge about what Rosa-Maria just said about these Demonic Shapeshifters. What’s that about?”

“Well, we witches have a lot of enemies and threats to us,” explained Rosa-Maria. “There are warlocks who wish to take our lives and our powers.”

“I thought warlocks were male witches,” said Boomer, confused.

“That’s a common misconception. A male witch is also called a witch. A warlock is a witch who has broken the Witch’s Code: An ye harm none, do what ye will. They only want power. Of course, it’s understandable why you would think that. Just as the majority of witches are female, the majority of warlocks are male. It’s a rare occasion if you encounter a female warlock. Other threats to us witches are witch hunters for obvious reasons. Monsters who would love the taste of flesh and blood. Especially humans. Extra flavor if it’s magical blood. There will even be targeted by other witches either because they’re Tower Witches, that’s what we call bad witches, or because I crossed into their or their coven’s territory. But the biggest threat to all of us witches and non-witches are… demons.”

“Demons?” asked Bones. “Like from Hell?”

“Pretty much. Demons only wish to bring death and destruction wherever they go. We Workshop Witches, good witches, are one of the many beings who have the power to stop them in order to protect the innocent and the greater good. Because of this, demons want to get rid of us.”

“I see,” said Richie. “That does sound bad.”

“It does. That’s why my family wanted me to go to Magic School instead of going out on my own. They said it would be safer. But it would also mean I would never them again for a long time. But they still wish I could go there. My banishings and vanquishings are not the best. I could barely handle a Lower Level Demon.”

“How so?” asked Ace, a little worried there.

“A year ago, a Lower Level Demon was giving trouble to one of our neighbors. I thought I could do it, but I failed. The spell to vanquish a Lower Level Demon goes: Hellspawn demon, creature of death, fire shall take your very breath. But I got the words mixed up. Instead of breath, I said bread and made all the bread in the house disappear.”

“What happened next?”

Rosa-Maria could tell the Ace was scared… for her… Could he be… She continues her story.

“Thankfully, our Supreme came, vanquished the demon, and saved me. After that, they decided that Demon Hunting is definitely not my Skill.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ace.

“Still think it’s a good idea to let me stay here with you?” Rosa-Maria was hoping they would say yes.

“We had to fight my father to save Shifty and Buttons,” said Ace in an almost prince-like tone. “I think we can handle whatever threatens you. Don’t worry, you can count on us… You can count on me.”

Rosa-Maria was almost happy to hear that. Hearing him say those things made her feel a little safer… and happier.

“Gracias, Ace.”

The two stared into each other’s eyes passionately.

“Don’t tell me their fallin’ in love,” laughed Shifty.

“They definitely look close,” said Bones.

“Maybe they’re Anon Cupla,” suggested Mimi.

“We’re not,” said an embarrassed Rosa-Maria. “… But then again…”

“What did your cat say?” asked Brick.

“Mimi thinks me and Ace maybe Anon Cupla,” she answered.

“Anon what?”

“In the witch world, we have witches who are bound to each other. They are Bonded Pairs. There are two kinds of them. The first is Anon Ceangal. That’s when two people choose to bound their souls together. Kind of like a married couple. It’s strong, but easily broken and undone. The second is Anon Cupla. That’s when two or more people share the same soul. It’s permanent and once bound, it can never be broken or undone. They’ll be part of each other’s lives for all eternity.”

“I see. That sounds… Really romantic.”

“No doubt about that,” said Boomer, happily.

Brick and Boomer hold hands.

“So you think we might be this Anon Cupla?” asked Ace.

“Well, that’s what Mimi thinks,” said Rosa-Maria. “It’s rare to find your soul twin. My parents are actually Anon Ceangal. They only unified to save my mother’s parents because they were poor, despite how good they are at Farming Magick. They said I was the only good that came out of it. And they’re real good friends. Of course, my family said I shouldn’t settle for Anon Ceangal and not give up hope for finding my Anon Cupla.”

“But how could it be me? I’m not a witch.”

“Our Supreme says that Anon Ceangal and Anon Cupla are not limited to just witches. It could be with anyone. My friend, Lila, her Anon Cupla is a werewolf. They’ve been together for 5 years.”

“I see.”

Though, Ace wasn’t sure. Rosa-Maria is pretty as far as witches go, but can it really work out? Only time will tell.

“But I shouldn’t focus on that right now,” said Rosa-Maria, going back to her potion. “Right now, I need to focus on my training. Love and romance can wait.”

“Okay.”

Rosa-Maria and Ace smile at each other.

“By the way, Rosa-Maria, what kind of potion are you working on?”

“It’s one of Abuelo’s. It’s the Butterfly Conjuration Potion. If I can get it right, it’ll conjure a swarm of beautiful butterflies.”

“And if you get it wrong?” asked Boomer.

“I’d rather not find out. Okay, now we just need a pinch of basil.”

“Here you go.”

Boomer handed Rosa-Maria the basil. She adds pinch of it to the pot and a puff of orange smoke came out.

“Now for the last ingredient. One whole milkweed flower.”

“Uh ho,” said Richie. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Rosa-Maria, but milkweeds don’t grow around this area. But I did find some blueblossums. They’re the closest to milkweed. Will that work?”

“Abuelo said that I shouldn’t use substitutes. But I guess this will have to do.”

Richie gave Rosa-Maria the blueblossums and added them to the pot which let out a loud bang and a puff of grey smoke.

“Odd. When Abuelo makes this potion, the smoke comes out white. Okay, now for the incantation… Llamo a los espíritus para que traigan mariposas para llenar el aire. ¡Concede tu poder, Santa Muerte!”

Then, in a loud bang and a puff of smoke the filled the entire kitchen, something came out of the pot… But it wasn’t a butterfly… It was a bat! Rosa-Maria and the Bozos all panic. Buttons just waved at the strange flapping creature she had never seen before. Fortunately, the bat vanished in a puff of smoke.

“I see what your gramps meant,” said Shifty, catching his breath and trying to maintain his human form.

“I guess Potions isn’t my Skill, either,” said a disappointed Rosa-Maria.

“Don’t give up,” said Ace with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll find it.”

Rosa-Maria smiled at what Ace said. She knows he’s right. She’ll find out what her Skill is before her year-long training is done.

What happens next? … Well, why don’t you guys decide that.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

A broken branch of the family tree

My Great-Grandfather (maternal side) taught me how to play Cribbage. We played many times over the few years we knew each other well (and I treasure those years to a depth that I cannot speak to). I won my first game against him, then my second, and after that, he absolutely ruined me every single time. 

Occasionally, he would move my pegs instead of his own. Raised up as a respectful Southern daughter (at least where grandparents were concerned), I never corrected him. 

More than occasionally, he would tell me this story: 

“Did I ever tell you how I learned to play Cribbage?”

(Many, many times.) “No, I don’t think so.” (Because I loved this story, so it always felt new.)

“Well,” and he would clear his throat like the man in his nineties he was, though I rarely considered what that meant, “every night, my father and I would play a game to see who would milk the cows in the morning.”

Great-Grandpa had grown up helping settle South Dakota. There, he would meet my Great-Grandmother (who, funnily enough, would be the maternal answer to a male name on a female person that I would later inherit from the paternal line). They would move to Nebraska, and Great-Grandpa would be the reason--to this day--that Gordon, Nebraska has such finely made roads. But, before then, he was a farm boy, and this was his story.

“And let me tell you, I learned how to milk a cow.”

I laughed every time because his delivery was that damn good. Even as a young teenager, I recognized that sense of timing in myself, and I cannot describe to you how important it is that I found it it my Great-Grandpa and could say my biological father (snake oil salesman of lowest regard) was not the reason I could cue a laugh. 

When Great-Grandpa died (I was 16; he was 97), my grandmother bequeathed me his Cribbage board. It was only years later, when I grew up enough to understand my grandmother’s sensible view of the world, that I would discover she also carried that ability to cue laughter. (We were at a parade, and people in it carried a Confederate flag, and Grandma deadpanned to me, ‘And it’s the Democrats ruining society,’ and I laughed so hard I nearly fell over.)

Grandma plays Bridge and Hearts and a few other card games you associate with older women with a blue dye rinse. Except Grandma would roll into her grave prematurely to roll over in it if she ever ended up with a blue dye rinse. She is currently 84, on her third marriage (having divorced the first man and buried the second), and very likely having more fun in life than half of you ever will (that’s not a judgement; she’s just that way). She tried to teach me Bridge, making me the dead hand so she could guide me through. She tried to teach me Hearts the same way, and both times, the conclusion was clear: They’re not games for me. Hell, I could never beat an old man at Cribbage. What chance did I have against three living ladies at Bridge or Hearts even when one was on my side?

Great-Grandpa died when I was sixteen. When I was in my twenties, my mother and I were reminiscing on my times with my Great-Grandfather, and I mentioned how badly I had lost to him time and again.

“But, I mean, he was in his nineties and had played his whole life. I never really had a chance.”

“Oh, honey,” my mother said, on cocktail number I lost count because I’d been drinking, too, because it was the only way we could be honest with one another (she didn’t care for my honesty until she’d had a few; I craved hers while stone sober). “Grandpa counted cards.”

“WHAT.”

“And he was colorblind. Green-blue.”

“WHAT.” The time he moved my pegs came into sharp relief. Always green-blue. Never when I played red.

Mom looked at me with the glassy perfection of the truly fucked up, and I am sure I stared back in the same state. “You didn’t know?”

I stared. Waiting for her to laugh. She did not. “No! Why would I know?”

“Oh, I thought you knew.”

This casual brush-off confused me for years. Why would I know? Who goes to their parents and asks, “Hey, is there any special skills that 90-something old man has that can lead me to be ruined at Cribbage for three goddamn years?”

Years later, comfortably into my marriage and starting to really understand the exact toxicity of my relationship with my Olympic-level drunk mother, my husband and I went down to visit for Christmas. After many, many hours at a relative’s house, we came back to my parents’, and my mother suggested we find a way to relax.

“How about poker?” my husband suggested. We’d both recently gotten into Texas Hold ‘Em. We were all playing from Mom’s penny jar, so it was agreed the four of us--Dad, Mom, the husband, and I--would get to name the game as dealer. 

Mom bemoaned Hold ‘Em when my husband announced it. She also dismissed any version of poker where you got to trade part of your hand. I was surprised at her opinions. I remembered a lot of penny-ante poker with the neighbors when I was a kid, but I didn’t recall Mom having any real stance in the type of play. 

The deck got to Mom. She called Five Card Stud, no trades. She demolished the rest of us at the table. As I watched her gather up the pennies that had been hers in the first place, it dawned on me. 

Great-Grandpa counted cards and taught Grandma. Grandma counted cards and taught Mom. My brain always tries to count cards, but it can’t. Because Grandpa had one drink a day (seven and seven), Grandma had one beer a day (Budweiser), and Mom seemed to be in competition with herself to find the bottom of the bottle (or box) of booze. 

I missed out on a family secret. One that could bring fun and a bit of excitement to my life. Great-Grandpa passed it to Grandma through Cribbage, who passed it to Mom via Hearts, but it never made it to me, even though I have the itch in my brain, because Great-Grandpa and my grandma understood that counting cards and liquor both required a type of discipline, and my mother couldn’t do both at the same time. 

I unearthd Great-Grandpa’s Cribbage board recently, and a favorite bar in town has a weekly night. I need to brush up on the rules and expect not to win. I don’t know all the tricks of the game, but at least I can tell the story of my great-grandpa teaching me. 

“And he got really good at milking that cow!”

As long as I can land the laugh, I’ll be happy with my legacy.

[jpstadtlander]

What Veteran's (Armistice) Day Means to Me

This Veteran's Day, there are two small stories I would like to share with you. Before I do though, it's important to note that before this was Veteran's Day, it was called "Armistice Day". It marks the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. A day that there was a temporary cessation of hostilities declared between the Allies and Germany during World War I (then known as "The Great War"). Although in this article I am specifically mentioning American Veterans, it is very important that we acknowledge not only our American Veterans but the veterans of all countries who have fought for and continue to fight for the future peace of our children and all of those who will lead this world long after we have gone.

My Grandpa Joe Joe In this first memory, I am four years old, sitting on my grandpa Stadtlander's lap. I am unencumbered by what other's think of him, I don't know his past nor do I care at this age. He is wearing denim overalls with maybe a dozen pockets in them.  He smells like an old cigar and turpentine. He's talking to someone, perhaps grandma, perhaps Dad, I can't recall. I remember being obsessed with all these little tools he had in his pockets. Pulling out carpenter pencils, and putting them back in. Pulling out a ruler here, a measuring tape there, a file, and then putting them back where I found them. I remember looking up at his weathered face as he smiled at me and I remember hugging him and I remember his big arms hugging me back. A year later my mother and father sat me down and told me that there was something growing inside him called cancer. That there was something the size of a grapefruit attached to an organ called a pancreas. Shortly after they told me this, he died. He was fifty-five years old, ten years older than I am now. It was the first great loss I can remember. Years later I found out that grandpa was an aircraft mechanic and a belly gunner (someone who sits in the machine gun pod on the underside of the aircraft) on a B17 Flying Fortress during World War 2. He was stationed in Labrador near the arctic circle where he served along-side his identical twin brother. Grandpa passed away 40 years ago (almost to the day). I'd like to say I miss him, but I don't really remember him very much. I do wish I had gotten to know him better.

My Grandpa Virgil Virgil My maternal grandfather, Virgil is a completely different story. I have so many memories with him that I treasure, that to pick out a single one would do all the other memories injustice. He is my grandfather, my best friend, and my hero. I have had the honor of putting together a movie of his life and in the process have learned all about his service as a Korean War veteran. He has told me stories about being stationed in Soel and Fort Carson, Colorado. This has also encouraged me to research more on World War I, World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. Grandpa turned ninety years old this year and I treasure every day that I am blessed to have him around. Veteran’s Day to me is a family affair. I am proud to have two grandfathers, several great-uncles and MANY dear friends that I have grown up with that have helped to make our country a better place. I have traveled all over the world and every country I visit, every person I meet outside of the U.S., continually makes realize what a great country we have (despite some of our leadership). Seeing the way many people live... I do wish we could make our country, their country. Yes, we have (a LOT of) problems, all countries do. We are all human, and it’s important to know that without our humanity, there is no country worth living in. It is human lives that have been given and I have the highest respect for everyone out there that has fought for and continues to defend our country. Thank you to both of my grandpas, Joe and Virgil, to my Uncles Harold and George, to my friends Chris, Joyce, Torrey, Howard (RIP), Bernardo, Dave, Jessica, and probably two dozen other names that are just not popping into my head right now. To all of you, who have served and continue to serve to make this country the type of place that I want my children and my children's children to grow up in. Read the full article

[specialsnowflakestorm]

Josh Yos, Son of Refugees, Is An American Success Story

In honor of #WorldRefugeeDay we are kicking off the series “Getting to Know Marginalized People,” where we’ll feature Trans, homeless, immigrant people and more. The first is an interview with the son of Cambodian Refugees, printed below. 

By Vince Martellacci

Josh Yos is the son of Cambodian refugees, both of whose journeys to America were long and painful. In just one generation, Josh and his family have found success, happiness, and even community in California, settled now mostly in and around Oakland. And thankfully so. They were running from an oppressive regime, the Khmer Rouge, who under Pol Pot were responsible for what in the 1970s was quickly becoming genocide. It is estimated that 21% of the population, or 1.7 million Cambodians, lost their lives under the Khmer Rouge (Yale University).

 With the horrorshow going on in Syria right now, it seems pertinent to shed some light on who refugees are as people, and what kinds of things they’re running from. Refugees are not terrorists--they are terror victims. Josh’s mother’s dad was killed in front of her, her two sisters, and her mother. He was a doctor, an intellectual, which the Khmer Rouge was seeking to cleave the population of. “Rich people, smart people, people who were involved in the arts,” says Josh, all were the first targets of the Khmer Rouge, and his family fell victim. The Khmer Rouge was seeking to create a classless, communist state, and anyone high in the ranks of class or the state was in jeopardy.

 Josh’s father’s dad, who had lost virtually his entire family to war, was a farmer, which gave him a sort of advantage in that he was able to “play both sides. He knew it was shady … and one day he just decided to leave with my dad and a bunch of people.” They waited in Khao i Dang, a refugee camp on the Thai/Cambodian border for sponsorship from American churches. There and in the Philippines, refugees were taught trades: “They learned how to make donuts, how to run a business, do books for a nail shop or a laundromat.”

 This quickly turned Josh and I to a discussion about how people only come to this country to work, not to mooch. Josh knows better: “The ignorant folks, they just want to believe that immigrants come here and they just take welfare.” He went on to make an excellent point about all people, regardless of race or national origin, “Have you ever not had a job? That shit eats at you. … People need a purpose in life or a calling.” Josh added that when it comes to refugees specifically, “Refugees or immigrants who’ve been working their whole lives, they just wanna get back to work, they don’t wanna sit at home … reliving the traumas of war.” And of course that’s true. People are fascinatingly resilient. No one wants to wallow in their trauma, or let it define them. Furthermore, “people crave social interactions,” and for most people that itch is scratched at work.

 Josh’s mom and dad met going to school in the refugee camps. Josh tells a dark story with comedic undertones: to protect her daughters, Josh’s grandma dressed them as boys while they were running (200 miles) to Thailand so they would not get abducted or raped. His mother became a tomboy in school at the camps, “My mom was skinny so she looked straight up like a dude, she was tough and was always protecting the family.” She would always defend herself and her sisters, and one day a group of boys was trying to bully them and she beat them all up. One of those boys turned out to be Josh’s dad.

 Flash forward to young adulthood in the states, and Josh’s respective grandparents got their children back in touch. His mom was in Stockton at the time, and his dad would make the drive from Oakland sometimes every night to see her. His paternal grandpa became a pastor, and made friends with his worship leader maternal grandma, and the rest is history.

 Josh’s family started out doing hard jobs--his mom came to the states at fourteen or fifteen and began picking fruit. But thanks to community and family--and America giving them a chance-- Josh’s mom is now a medical assistant and his father is a stationary engineer. Josh himself just graduated from California State University East Bay with a degree in Health Science and an emphasis in Administration and Management, and that may not even top the list of his accomplishments. For the last few years, he has been working on a project called Village Resting, where he does pop-up kitchens, sometimes even out of his own house. They were so wildly popular that he was able to take over a kitchen at a restaurant for one full Summer, creating and cooking his and his partners’ own menu. He supplements that with social media marketing and a podcast, of which the first episode boasted over 1000 listeners.

 Now, Josh is mulling over his next move: “Do i do food or do I pursue what I studied in school? I want to make people happy but I feel like I have an obligation to help out refugees and immigrants.” Josh goes onto say that his degree could really help disadvantaged people like refugees, adding, “Healthcare is a way to offer security and equity.”

 Caring about community is something it seems Josh learned from his grandfather, who he describes as a master storyteller who naturally became a pastor. More accurate is that he became a small business owner, and pastor in his spare time. Josh’s grandfather owned a donut shop “in which my entire family, including me, worked.” Josh’s grandfather used his business as a way to help others: “When somebody got out of prison he was like, ‘You wanna work at the donut shop?’ Or if someone just got here from Cambodia. He had homeless people work there. The dude is so cool and so trusting,” maybe even too trusting--Josh says he has been taken advantage of before, burgled by employees--but, “he’ll still have someone come in at night when he’s not there and work. We just don’t deserve some people.” His grandfather’s spirit is reflected in Josh’s own words: “I want Village Resting to be a way to open doors. I’ve opened doors for myself and I want to keep those open for other people. I want [my little brother] to have a part of it.”

 Being the son of refugees comes with it’s own struggles as well. Josh was quick to tell the story of how he learned of the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot--from other Cambodian kids on the playground around age eleven or twelve. As Josh puts it, “My parents didn’t burden me with that story.” He muses that he may have complained about having to run a mile at P.E., and he feels like his own day-to-day struggles will never compare with his parents’, who had to run 200 miles to the safety of another country.

 Being Cambodian, Josh feels underrepresented in the American mainstream, and rightly so. He mentions that he wants to make being Cambodian an institution, with it’s own businesses and economic life. But it is not just that Josh feels the weight of being both Cambodian and American. He also exists in several worlds in America: “I never felt like I really fit in anywhere. I’m from The Town, I’m from Oakland, but we moved out just after I started elementary school. My life, my family was in the hood. But I was sheltered, I’m a church boy, I can’t relate.” Josh said whenever he spent extended time periods with his family in Stockton, he was seen as  spoiled, noting, “My parents gave me a good-ass life. I lived in the suburbs, I played baseball growing up. I was always involved in sports, I was in choir.” But Josh adds that this didn’t play well everywhere, “I don’t speak Khmer, I look Chinese, I play sports, they weren’t fucking with me at all.”

 At school, everyone told a young Josh that he was Chinese, and his parents had to dispel that for him. As his school years went on Josh felt, “I wasn’t ‘whatever’ enough. I’m not gonna say white enough because I didn’t grow up in a white area.” In college, Josh fell into a Chicano studies track, where he got to watch Latinx students discover their heritage, history, culture. This affected Josh, who thought “It was beautiful. … It gave me a platform to go back and learn what my heritage was.” He adds now that “it’s not about being Cambodian, it’s about being Cambodian American” at a time where no one really knows what that looks like yet. Josh wants to be something for the next generation of Cambodian Americans to look up to, to strive for.

 In a matter of decades after being given a chance and let into the United States, Josh’s entire family was able to build a legacy. Creating a community space like a donut shop for generations of your family and people in need to work in is a legacy, an awesome one. Rising from a fruit-picker to a medical assistant creates a legacy: like her father before her and her son after her, his mother found her way (through much struggle) into the medical field. This is a family who is contributing to what truly makes America great in so many ways: spiritually, as healers, as beacons for their community. This is the American Dream in action, if there ever really was such a thing. His family is not in the one percent, not in Senate, but they contribute in a much more real and tangible way, a way that creates a ripple effect throughout the entire bay area and throughout Josh’s family’s entire larger community. From a purely pragmatic standpoint, those contributions are why we must continue to accept refugees. Really, we must continue to accept refugees because they are people, people going through trauma who have the potential to be so much more than their trauma.

[fallen029]

Last Month: Mommies and Daddies

It all happened because Mirajane had taken recently to talking about her parents.

Laxus wasn't sure had had spawned it on, but thought nothing of it, really. Lana, their daughter, was about three and was getting old enough to be curious about such things. Maybe. She knew, at least, that everyone had a mommy and daddy (which he knew given that, lately, she'd been pairing off her stuffed animals in such ways and giving the smaller stuffed animals to be the babies of the others; her logic wasn't ideal, as there were quite a few dogs who were mothers or fathers to kittens or even one toy mouse who appeared to be the offspring of a bunny rabbit and her stuffed dragon, but she was trying) and that, clearly, at some point, both Laxus and Mirajane must have had one too.

As he was frequently out on jobs (well, he felt it was frequent; Mira actually suggested many times that he loafed around the house far more often than he thought, but he just wanted to be around his baby, that was all), he probably missed the start of the entire thing. He faintly remembered returning home and Mirajane telling him through the usually giggles about all that she and their daughter had done while he was off. The subject came up, he was nearly certain, about how during her bath one night, when Lana was actually being a good girl and not screaming bloody murder about having to take one, the little girl got to asking when her daddy would be home and, somehow, managed to also ask when Mira's would be home.

Or something like that. Laxus wasn't too sure.

Maybe Lana had been telling Mira about her daddy (him, obviously) and how awesome he was (because, duh, he just was, of course she would notice that; awesome recognizes awesome) and asked if Mira had just as awesome of daddy.

Laxus liked that explanation the best.

Still, the most likely answer was that Lana hadn't really asked. Moreover, Mira had probably misunderstood the question. The little girl, while learning the concept of family and parents, still got rather befuddled on it at times (refer to the above in which a rabbit and a dragon could pop out a baby mouse), which left the idea of her not only putting together such a sentence, but also reasoning that Mira's 'daddy' was absent, while possible, seemingly rather abstract.

Now, Laxus thought the world of his little hatchling. Honest. Best baby dragon/demon to ever exist. The only.

But… It just seemed more like a Mirajane manipulation.

Again, there was no problem with that. Mira didn't talk much about her life before the guild with him and that was fine too. But if she wanted their daughter to know about it, great. Lana was part of the Dreyar Dynasty, sure (which was sadly kinda small and, considering he didn't plan on having any more children, would die with her, but whatever), but she was a Strauss too. Sorta. So she should know about their past and stuff. He wasn't sure where he believed people went when they died, but he liked to think that both his mother and Mirajane's parents were, at the very least, interested in their daughter, wherever they were.

Lana started telling him, anyhow, of all the things that Mira told her about her maternal grandparents. In very clipped ways, of course, as she wasn't so great at story telling. He heard all about how big Mommy's daddy had been and how he would work all day and sweat and get all nasty and he would kiss Mommy and Aunt Lissy on the cheeks before bed, just like her daddy and wasn't that so silly?

Laxus, who enjoyed any and all time gift to him with his daughter, would smile at such things and nod his head, even when he could tell Lana either hadn't understood the story that Mira told her or was out right fibbing (she told him once that Mommy's mommy would make them eat rocks for dinner and when he repeated the word, rocks, Lana got annoyed and insisted, yes, rocks). It came with the territory, he was nearly certain, of having a child. You listened to gibberish because you loved them.

You know, until their gibberish turned more into hounding you for your stories so that they could no doubt mangle them in retellings to others.

Then it got a tad annoying.

He almost misunderstood Lana's original question as it was one of those days where he was laid out on her bedroom floor, mostly listening to her babble as she ran color crayons all over a page in her coloring book. She was just telling him about how Mommy's daddy was her grandpa, which was completely blowing the little girl's mind.

"Daddy?" she asked at one point, glancing over at the man. He was just watching her with a slight smile and nodded when she spoke to him. "Gramps is your daddy?"

And there it was. Somewhere along explaining what mommies and daddies and grandpas and grandmas were, Mira had sparked something inside the girl. Curiosity. It kills dragons, Laxus had heard.

"No," Laxus told her slowly. "He's my Gramps. Which makes him your great-grandpa."

Lana continued to stare. "Gramps no your daddy?"

"Gramps is not my daddy. Not, Lana. The word isn't no. It's not. And he isn't, by the way. My father. Have you...thought that? This whole time?"

Meh. Lana really didn't...think about those sorts of things. Laxus was Daddy because he said he was Daddy. Gramps was Gramps because he said he was Gramps. Aunt Ever was Aunt Ever because she said she was Aunt Ever. There had been no reasoning on her part outside of those given facts. Someone was only whoever they claimed to be.

And even though Laxus had seen her grouping her stuffed animals into families as a basic concept, in her mind it was truly little more than her doing what they had all done to her. She said that the bunny was the mommy and the dragon was the daddy and the mouse was the baby.

Therefore, it was.

Mirajane, however, by filling her head with ideas of a grandfather and grandmother she had never known, had spawned a concept unknown to the little girl. Around her, the others were typically referred to in the titles she knew them by. If Mirajane wanted her to go sit with Laxus, she'd tell her to go sit with Daddy. If she was out with Bickslow and he was asking if she and Lisanna wanted to go to the park, he'd refer to his girlfriend as Aunt Lisanna. Everyone called Gramps by that name around her. Gramps. Other than Mommy. She called him Master, but Lana typically didn't understand who she was talking about when she'd say that, so even she'd taken to calling him Gramps around the little girl.

Now though that Mirajane had taught Lana that, while she called her own parents Papa and Mama, that to Lana they would be Grandpa and Grandma, she was starting to realize that, maybe, people did have different relations to one another. It was about then that she started to understand that Uncle Elf wasn't just there because he was her uncle. He was her uncle because he was Mommy's brother. And Aunt Lissy was Mommy's sister.

It was a rather daunting concept to the child, but slowly, she was coming to terms with it. And, in the days before she first questioned Laxus about Makarov, Mirajane had taken to explaining to her that, just like her Papa was Lana's Grandpa, Gramps was also her grandfather.

Which was just groundbreaking. Lana had never considered that Gramps wasn't just a name, but rather meant the word grandpa. At all. And, at three, she still didn't fully get it.

Hence her questioning Laxus.

"Gramps is Daddy's daddy?" She phrased it that way, after Laxus' question, still wanting him to answer the question as yes. She did this sometimes. If Laxus told her that no, she couldn't have a cookie, then she'd just try to rephrase the question in another way, as if there had been a language barrier or something. "Yes?"

"No, silly," he said as she dropped her color crayons and just stared at him. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. He isn't my father. He's my grandpa too."

Lana's brows furrowed in that cute way when she didn't understand things.

Like zippers. She would play with the zipper of her jacket all the time. It was so amazing. Pull it up, it comes together. Pull it down, it opens again. Amazing.

"Gramps is Daddy's Gramps." Lana nodded. "And my Gramps."

"Right."

Hmmm.

Still, watching him, she asked then, "You gotta daddy?"

Laxus only sat up then, finally before reaching over to pat her coloring book. "Come on, hatchling." He tapped her on the noise gently that time, eliciting one of her big giggles. "Let's color, huh? I want you to color me...uh..." He flipped some pages in the little booklet before stopping on one. "This. Can you color me this picture of the kitty?"

"Ki-cat."

"Yep. Kitty cat." Her white hair got ruffled then. "Kitty cat."

Lana left it alone for a bit. Forgot, maybe even, that she was curious. Until one day, when Laxus came back from training and found her and Mirajane in the kitchen, baking cookies.

Mirajane was talking loudly when he got to the house, something about this lake by their tiny house that her father used to take them to as kids. She was in the middle of telling Lana all about it when, walking as silently from the front of the house as he could, Laxus stuck his head in the kitchen, just to surprise his daughter.

It worked.

Lana, who was sitting up on the counter, watching her mother mix up some batter, about fell off in her excited wiggles and giggles as she reached out for the man immediately.

"Hey, Lana." He rushed to go lift her up, pressing a kiss against her cheek. "What are you doin'? Huh?"

"Daddy!" She had no problem with the fact that he reeked of sweat and the outside world, as well as a bit of blood twinged in there. Only nuzzled right up to him without a single concern. "You come home."

"I came home," he corrected gently. "I-"

"Laxus, you stink," Mirajane chided with a frown. "You're going to make her stink."

"Am I smelly, Lana? Huh?" Laxus gave her another kiss. "Or is Mommy just jealous that Daddy greeted you first?"

Pulling her head back a bit, Lana smiled brightly at him before, suddenly, she made a face. Staring brightly up at him with her blue eyes, she said, "Mommy's daddy likes fishin'."

"Oh, yeah?" He bounced Lana in his arms. "Is that so?"

Nodding as Mirajane glanced over at them with a grin, their daughter asked, "You daddy like fishin'?"

Her eyes widening, Mira got out a quick, "Lana, don't-" but Laxus was speaking just as quickly.

"Your," he told her softly. "Your. Remember? We've gotta learn that word, silly."

"Yoor," she mimicked with a grin. "Yoor daddy."

"Good job." He nuzzled his head against hers. "You're so smart."

A few kisses and snuggles was all Lana needed to be distracted. That day anyways.

But the questions didn't stop. She was very concerned, it seemed, with just where Daddy's daddy had gotten off to. She knew where Mommy's was; she said that he was somewhere up in the sky, watching over her. And though she didn't quite understand what that meant, it at least gave her a sense of where the man was.

But...if she was to believe that yes, as Mommy explained, everyone had a daddy and a mommy, and that what Daddy said was true, that Gramps was not his daddy, then just where was the man? Huh?

It wasn't something that bothered her constantly, of course. As a three year old, things came and went from her mind at a rather rapid pace. It was typically right after Mirajane had plied her head full of things about her own father that it ever came up.

When Lana finally started questioning him about his mother though, the man had had about enough.

He didn't want to get annoyed with his baby. At all. But those just weren't things that the man liked to talk about. In any way. He was grumbling about this late one night to Mirajane as she tried hard to stay interested and not just pass out on him. He hadn't taken a job in a few weeks, but she'd been working her butt off up at the guildhall. She needed her sleep.

Which is why, as if to end things, she finally told him, "I'll stop talking to her then, dragon."

"Huh?" He'd been in the middle of a sentence when she said that and only frowned. "What do you mean?"

"About my parents." Mirajane was lying on her side, facing him, and couldn't stop her eyes from slipping shut them. "About my life. Whatever. It's what's got her so interested in your parents. If I stop talking to her about mine-"

"That's not fair. And it's not what I want. I-"

"It's fine," Mirajane yawned. "Really. I-"

"If you want to tell Lana about...that, then you can. I just… It's a lot for me. And I don't like dwelling in the past."

"Mmmm," Mira hummed. "That part of the past, you mean. Because you definitely like to fill her head with tales of your glory years, don't you, dragon?"

"Well," he grumbled then, "that's different. If I don't tell her about it, then how can she one day pass it along to others when I die?"

"Are you not immortal? Raijin?"

"Shuddup," he grumbled, their dog, who shared the name, lifting his head at the end of the bed where he and the other mutt, Tenjin, were sleeping. "But seriously, demon, I would never ask you to do that. I know that it makes you feel...good, talking about them, to her."

"But it makes you feel bad," she pointed out, "having her asked about yours."

"I can feel bad. For you." Falling onto his back, Laxus stared up at the ceiling as Mirajane, thinking they were finished for the night, shut her eyes and let out a rather content sigh. "I just… I dunno, demon. Maybe I should just tell Lana, you know?"

Hardly awake then, Mira managed to get out, "Tell 'er wha'?"

"That, you know, yes, I have parents. And no, I don't have any cute stories about them. Then she'll just stop asking, don't you think? Since she got her answer? Mirajane? Mira, are you sleeping?"

Of course.

Letting out a short breath, Laxus figured he'd better get some too. His wife was working the afternoon and night shift the following day, meaning that he'd have Lana to contend with all alone.

And when, over lunch, she asked him once more about where his daddy was, Laxus took in a deep breath before replying.

"My daddy," he said as Lana sat next to him on the couch in the living room (they weren't really supposed to eat anything in there and especially not messy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but what Mira didn't know could get him killed...err…), "isn't around anymore. He… He's wasn't a very good daddy."

"No good daddy?"

"He was not a good daddy. Remember? Not?"

"Not," Lana got out, though she might have been trying to say the word no and the peanut butter screwed up her pronunciation. "Not."

That seemed to quell her, however, as Lana went back to eating. Laxus though, just sitting there, didn't feel as if things were quite over yet and began speaking again.

"It wasn't that he was a bad daddy, I guess," he said, staring up thoughtfully as Lana, who was next to him on the couch, looked around for the doggies to feed the rest of her sandwich to, not knowing that Laxus had put them out in the yard to play. "He just… You know, all the things that make me great and awesome and the best dad in the world to you-"

The super duper best.

"-he just didn't do." Laxus glanced down at Lana then. Feeling his eyes, she grinned up at her father, face smeared with the remnants of her lunch. "Like, you know, how I read to you and we play tea party and color and… He was just different. Things were different. I bet Gramps didn't do anything like that with him either."

"Gramps." Lana, bored then with eating and not finding the doggies to feed her food to, took to playing in it, mushing the bread all up in her hands, creating an even bigger mess. "Gramps color."

"Well, yeah, Lana, he does with you. Because you're...the best baby demon and dragon hybrid to ever exist."

Dang right.

"And he did with me too because I'm-"

"You Daddy," she informed him with a grin. "Daddy."

"Yeah, I know, Lana. I just meant… The point is that Ivan wasn't a good daddy. And your daddy, me, would like if we didn't talk so much about him anymore. Is that okay? I just don't think that he's really even that important to my life. Not anymore, anyways."

Lana, completely unfamiliar with most of his words, only dropped the mushy mass of bread she'd created before holding her hands up to her father, showing off just how filthy they had become.

"I finish," she told him to which Laxus could only nod, letting out a soft sigh.

"Of course you are." Getting to his feet, he took her plate from her and sat it with his on the coffee table before lifting his baby into his arms. "Come on. Let's go get washed up."

They spent a lot of the day out in the backyard with the dogs, Laxus letting Lana explore nature in the best way she knew how; by mucking around in it and creating an even bigger mess. Laxus had to question why they bathed the child at all. Waste of water, really.

"You're getting your clothes all dirty, hatchling," he informed her more than once as she dug around with the dogs, searching for worms and bugs. She liked those sorts of things. He was always having to make sure she didn't, like, try and eat them. "You know that?"

Like she cared.

If her big brothers, the dogs, got to do it, then so could she!

Nap time was welcome to Laxus that day. As he, Lana, and the mutts (he only let them come because the kid would cry if they didn't), settled into his big bed, it was with the intention of their goodnight story. Laxus had the best ones of those. Lana knew a lot of them pretty well.

Like, um...the time he beat up that one monster. Or that other monster. And oh, that really big and scary monster. And the time that he saved the entire guild singlehandedly and with no help whatsoever because he was the biggest, baddest slayer to ever walk the face of Earth Land.

Lana liked that story.

Lana liked all the stories!

That afternoon, however, Laxus' mind still kinda felt heavy about Ivan and, the only way he ever knew how to relieve that as a child, was to think instead about his mother.

"You know, hatchling, that all that stuff Mira tells you about her parents is great and I'm sure they were great and… But my mom? She was just like me. Completely awesome."

"Mommy."

"Mmmhmm. My mommy. Your grandma." Laxus was on his back and glanced to his side to see all three of his children, Lana, Raijin, and Tenjin, just lying there, watching him. Well, Lana was watching him and Tenjin was sleeping while Raijin licked some crumbs off the bed from where Laxus had eaten chips for breakfast there while Mira was in the shower (again, what she didn't know…), but he felt like he had their rapt attention. "She was… She died when I was a kid. But before that, she was...a lot like your mommy."

Lana could tell a long story a mile off and only hunkered down under the blankies and went ahead with her sleep routine, which basically consisted of yawning loudly before just conking out.

She had it down pat.

"She took care of me, I mean. Like how Mirajane takes care of me. Real good care of me. And they both like to listen to me talk and know when I'm feeling bad and what to do to make me feel better. Just...in different ways. But my mother was the best, Lana. You don't even know. And...you never will."

Unless, of course, he told her about the woman. The way that Mirajane was making very sure that Lana knew just who her maternal grandparents were. That her grandfather worked hard every day of his life and that there was no one that her grandmother loved more than her family.

Was it not Laxus' duty then to be for certain that she knew just as much about his mother? That Lana understood that she was the best mother she could be, under the circumstances, and tried her hardest to keep the very spiraling Ivan from tainting his mind? It felt like it, at least. Like it was his duty. Because without him passing the stories onto Lana, where would they go? Nowhere.

He felt like his mother should go on forever. And, even if he couldn't accomplish that, at least everywhere with Lana.

It almost felt like, in that moment, an injustice to his daughter not to tell her about all of those things.

When Mirajane got home that night, it was to find jelly stains on the couch (he'd get to them tomorrow), the dogs kicked out of the bedroom (Laxus had finally had enough of his sons; they were nothing but troublemakers) and wrecking havoc on the house by tearing up what appeared to be the trash from the kitchen, Lana in her own bed for once (sometimes Laxus felt like she should be a big girl), and a pile of dishes in the sink (again, tomorrow sounded promising).

The only thing she enjoyed finding was Laxus in the downstairs guest room, pulling some of his old stuff out of the closet in there.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she joined him in the room. The man had heard her yelling at the dogs, then complaining loudly about him, as well as heard her go upstairs to check on Lana, so she didn't surprise him. He didn't even glance back at her.

"Go to bed, baby." He was always concerned about her sleeping habits. "You work morning shift tomorrow, right? I'll be up eventually."

"You haven't gone though your old stuff in a long time," she pointed out, staring at the cardboard boxes the man had already pulled out of the closet. They'd been opened and rummaged through, meaning Mira got to see all the things bachelor Laxus had to put away when he became her husband. This included his collection of important beer cans, his old filthy magazines that he couldn't throw away because, hey, memories, as well as some old clothes and other trinkets from around his apartment. "Are you looking for something?"

"I have these photos of-"

"Oh, gross, Laxus. Seriously?"

"What?" That got him to glance back at her with a frown. "They're of my mother."

Mira blinked. Then she came closer. "And you've...kept them in here?"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with them?"

"We could have put them up around the house, Laxus!"

"Don't yell at me. It's been a very confusing day for me."

"I'm not yelling." Not then, anyways. Mira watched as he pulled yet another box off the top shelf in the closet. "I just don't know why you'd ever keep these from me."

"I wasn't keeping them from you. I just don't… I don't like thinking about the past. I like now. Right now. With you and Lana and… But..." He dropped the box before turning to look at his wife, face rather solemn. "Lana should know about my mother. She deserves to. And my mother deserves to be remember."

"Dragon, I didn't mean to start all of this by-"

"It's fine." When he found that box had nothing in it that was useful, he went to grab another. "I should have been doing this from the beginning."

Still, Mira only stood there with her arms crossed. "Then I'll stay up and help you find them."

"Mirajane, you need to go to-"

"I want to help my husband find some photos." She pushed passed him to grab a box as well. "So that's what I'm going to do."

And as they searched through all those boxes that night only for Laxus to remember that he had stashed the photographs in the dresser instead of in a box about three hours later, Mira never once complained. Didn't chide him for his forgetfulness or the fact that he even thought it was okay to keep his mother's photos locked up. Didn't mention how she would cherish just one photo of either of her parents.

Only sat down there and helped him. Just like always. And maybe one day, that's a story Lana could tell her kids.

Full Series

[rootshml]

Remind Me to Remember

Amanda’s Rooting (one month later)

Months leading up to this trip, I'd consistently ask my mom and dad and other family members anything they knew about my grandfather (both paternal and maternal). The answer I would always get would be "I don't remember, it's been too long. You don't have any family members left there anyways. They're all in America." 

I found family members (of distant relationship, but still family) in both my Rootings. What a surprise! After visiting my Yeh-Yeh's beautiful village in Toishan (Fu Cho Yurng), I was able to reconnect my great aunt in US with those currently occupying my Yeh-Yeh's home. I learned my Yeh Yeh left the village at the age of thirteen to attend school. He was a studious man and focused on doing well enough to provide for his family (my Grandma, two aunts, and my dad). After escaping China and swimming to Hong Kong, his father (my great grandfather)  helped in bringing my Yeh Yeh to the US. My great grandfather had established a laundromat in San Francisco in the early 1900s and had been sending money back to the home in Toishan. After building the home, he found life in China to be much harder and decided to stay in SF. 

As the village official walked me to my Yeh Yeh's home, I was already in awe by the village itself. It was huge, and I mean huge! Between the very first gate and the second gate were vast fields of rice, a watch tower, and water tank (how modern!) We drove past an ancestral hall, a senior center, a pond, and a recreational center until the van stopped. I was greeted by a  very kind lady who is a distant relative of mine. She lived in a newly built home behind my Yeh-Yeh's house. Right in front it was a garden with beautiful flowers, various plants, and some clothesline. To the left stood the ancestral home. A large two story brick home standing in great shape. Perhaps the most breathtaking feature was the altar on the second floor. Pictures don't do it justice. I paid my respects to my Yeh Yeh, thanking him for doing all he did to ensure my family a better life. He gave up living in such a beautiful home, in a country he knew, for new territory in the US. Yet he thrived -- even purchasing a home in the Sunset district to which my and my sisters live in today. Seeing my Yeh-Yeh's home was a reminder of the sacrifices my own roots made to provide for their offsprings, including me. 

 Two days later, I visited my Gung Gung's ancestral village and home in Xinhui. "Xinhui, a sophisticated city," Al said the night before. I did not know what that meant until day of. As I entered the village and glanced around, the homes were spaced out neatly. Before I could even process my surroundings, the van pulled up to a large structure - the ancestral hall. I would soon learn that the village was known as the emperor's clan, Zhou (also written out as Chiu or Zhou) and that my ancestors were descendants of them. My relatives were at the home that my Gung Gung and Po Po actually built. I was stunned by how modern, clean and spacious the home was. The most beautiful moment was when I entered the room where my Gung Gung and Po Po lived in. A wooden treasure chest lied in the back of the room and when my relative opened the chest, two dusty albums sat in the middle shelf. I opened it and was taken aback by all the photos of my maternal great grandmother, my Gung Gung, mom, and three other aunts. Looking through the pictures felt like taking a tunnel back in time. I've never seen any of these photos and my eyes and mind suddenly opened to how my Gung Gung and mom lived in the village. My relatives took me through the village, pointing out to a long-an tree my great grandmother grew, the home my mother was born in (a different home that was locked up), the home my mom's cousins grew up in, a fig tree, the school my mom attended, a flowering lychee  tree, and the ancestral hall itself. During the walk through the village, I asked my relative what my Gung Gung did. They told me he would work studiously, practicing shooting as he became the head commissioner of the village. My Po Po also worked as the Vice President of the village. Seeing pictures of both of them side by side with my mom and her sisters gripped my heart. My parents also have three daughters (including me). We have our differences - big differences - but seeing their photos remind me to remember that at the end mof the day we are family with the same roots.