#and sometimes i would drive my grandma to church

[saeist]

my personal touya headcanons (yes i will make full on fics n drabbles with these in mind):

CHRONIC manspreader. literally takes up a whole love couch with the way he spreads his legs

can drive but gets motion sick easily so counting on him for a 2+ hour roadtrip? yeah pull over we’re switching seats

damaged hair from the constant dyeing but that won’t stop this baddie from dyeing it jet black every 2 weeks

only runs on 4 separate hours of sleep and snores like a truck. (u’ll need earplugs)

surprisingly tidy in regards to his room only because rei comes and checks their rooms and if its all messy they’ll get their asses whooped

doesn’t smoke cigarettes BUT has a box of disposables/juuls hidden in his sock drawer (GOD FORBIDS rei finds his stash)

^ in addition to that, contrary to popular belief his plug is unironically natsuo..

loves icy berry related related flavors too LMFAO

is supposed to be a junior in college on paper but since he keeps dropping and switching majors, he’s technically still a freshman

^ is currently taking chemical engineering (took business ad, computer science, finance, nursing (💀) and literally god knows what. his college majors that he dropped is between him, endeavor and god now)

since he’s competitive as fuck and is a perfectionist, took up multiple sports and extra curriculars growing up

prefers soggy cereal

drinks a lot but lightweight as fuck. after one bottle he’s out 💡 but that won’t stop him from drinking more!

knows how to braid girls hair thanks to fuyumi

cats warm up to him on the street cus he’s warm n shit

prettiest resting face but makes the ugliest faces known to man just for the sake of it (still pulls)

doesn’t approach girls, girls approach him

scares them away when he’s all like 😐🧍🏻

hooded eyelids + long eyelshes (both top and bottom)

genuinely starts tweaking when people say he got endeavor’s eyes solely bc hes a momma’s boy..

grew up being SPOILED rotten amongst his siblings so he doesn’t take no for an answer and will actually start stomping his feet

once he opens his mouth however.. everyone is gonna know he’s endeavors son fr 😓

keigo is his closest irl friend but tomura is who he considers as his best friend even if they’re only internet friends

has a basic pc set up and plays valorant fortnite and roblox religiously

shits on children especially shoto and his two friends

once babysat the three of them in exchange for concert tickets

did i mention he has an indie rock emo band he formed when he was in high school? yeah

bassist obviously but sometimes he plays drums

will scare rei out of her wits when he would just magically appear on their couch when he’s supposed to be at his university

his room is in the attic

dresses like hes going to an opium concert but rei makes him change before they leave to go to church so ultimately he dresses up like a cottagecore mf but with piercings and box dye jet black hair

almost broke natsuo’s hand when he first got his nose piercing

embodies the trope of “best friends older brother”

has a soft spot for grandmas and will help them cross the road each time

picks up shoto from school with his beat up hand me down car. literally one slam on the break away from breaking (endeavor gave it to him as his 18th birthday present)

sometimes ends up driving shoto’s friends home too if shoto insists (more like demands)

will also intentionally go through a drive-thru and the kids in the backseat are expecting him to ask them what they want but touya just gets whatever the fuck he was craving, pays and leaves

“we got food at home!” - touya to a enraged shoto

also sometimes touya is shoto’s chaperone or the “parent” that goes to those parent teacher meetings when its time for get shotos report card and will deliberately say shoto has failing grades when shoto is part of the honor roll just to again, fuck with him

shamelessly flirts with the girls natsuo brings home just to fuck with him (he gets sucker punched later that night bc at the end of the day, natsuo is bigger than that man 😭)

when all the todosibs are fighting, nobody listens to him even if he’s the eldest. they all end up ganging up on him (fuyumi doesn’t stop shit, in fact she instigates further. she don’t play)

says he hates winter and likes summer more but whenever its summer time if he could he would live inside the freezer

hates the feeling of sweating 😮‍💨

sometimes goes on days without showering only popping a lil deodorant here and there so rei forces him to shower whenever he just so happened to pass by her

cooks decent meals but shoto hates it and intentionally makes gagging noises whenever he finds out touya was in charge of cooking that night

hates doing the dishes and fools shoto into doing it for him

when he goes on dates, he steals endeavors credit card and just pays for everything. will probably even take you to nobu just to do so

attempts to blame natsuo when endeavor caught on since his card decline at the supermarket but unfortunately touya cannot lie to save his own life even if he tried

OH! talks MAD game in bed but has never touched a woman in his life.. painfully a virgin. u have to teach this man PLEASEE 🙏

likes yeat and carti

basically teenager borderline adult core

[trivial-writing]

I want to talk about the Pokemon champions. So let’s talk about the Pokemon champions on how well they would drive (family member bonus as well ;) )

Lance: drives a bit over the speed limit , but who doesn’t (at least in my area)? He is efficient at driving. Though, he only drives when he’s forced to. He normally rides on Dragonite to get places. When doing G-men stuff though, he’s reckless and goes way past the speed limit. I mean, have you seen the red gyarados episode? That car almost tipped over. Honestly with how he drives, many of the G Men think he used to be a race car driver. Some of the G Men, who of lower status than Lance, made a bet about it. Lance doesn’t know about it yet is the thing because they don’t want him to tell higher office about it.

Clair: the epitome of road rage. It’s not her fault everyone is stupid. They just turn when it’s not even their right of way. It’s not her fault that that guy crashed into her because she was driving so fast! Even though she drove 65 in a 50 area. Drives like Lance because he taught her, but drives way more recklessly. Puts out the middle finger when slow people are… well, slow. Gives the elder heart attacks all the time.

Wallace: he’s pretty good at driving. He drives a bit slower than the speed limit. Whenever people ride with him, they always complain about how slow he’s going. He has a lot of road rage and talks way too much. This may or may not be the reason why he drives like an old man on a Sunday morning after church.

Steven: takes way too much from his father. Very punctual. Sometimes has road rage, but catches himself. When he first started out, he gave his dad a heart attack though.

Cynthia: ADD driver aka the very opposite me. She does everything under the sun when driving. She does her hair, eats, calls/texts people on the phone, does makeup, etc. She gets distracted a lot. She has so many close calls. So much so that her s/o (for me Steven) just lightly suggests that they drive instead. Cynthia doesn’t have road rage though. She just has a good time. When someone walks up to her about her driving, they immediately stop when they realize who’s driving. They freeze and just nope out of there because no person would square up with a garchomp unless they have a death wish.

Cynthia’s grandma drives like Wallace, but slightly faster. That’s how slow he drives.

Alder: does not drive.

N: refuses to drive because of harmful pollution, and he’s scared of engines. He hates going at high speeds because he doesn’t like to hit any Pokemon. It’s just a bad time for him.

Iris: in the back seat of any driver’s car egging them on to hit anyone she sees. She is a chaotic child. No one can tell me otherwise. When she can drive, she immediately got her license revoked. However she illegally drove anyway. It got so bad that the police called Drayden to pick up his granddaughter.

Drayden: pretty good driver. Has minimal road rage. It’s only when people drive recklessly and put the lives of others is when he rages.

Diantha: always in a rush. She drives way over the speed limit, but everyone else does in Kalos, so she gets a pass. She’s an angel when driving. She knows all the road rules, even the rules that don’t even apply to her region. She knows because if she needs to go to another reason for work reasons, or if she needs to visit her s/o who lives in a different region (Lance for me personally). She’s known to be Little Miss Perfect on the road. She also has to drive Sycamore to the lab ‘cause he caused a gas truck to explode ‘cause he crashed into it.

Kukui (does he count? I’m gonna say he counts): reasonable at best. Burnett drives primarily though.

Hau: way too nervous to drive. Gets a phone and asks Hala to drive for him.

Hala: careful. Not much to say here. You can tell which characters I have the moat brainrot for.

Leon: good driver, terrible at actually going to the proper destination (who could’ve guessed). Sonia is terrible at driving, so she just tells Leon where to go.

Hop: once he does drive, he drives Leon places for his mom and dad.

Geeta: uhh??? She’s too much of an enigma to me.

Nemona: does not have eyes on road. Too focussed on battling. She sees powerful pokemon, battles. Will stop in the middle of the dang street just to battle anyone or anything.

Kieran: pre ogrepon is scared. Post ogrepon, menace on the highway. Carmine has to drive him or else everyone in Blueberry Academy is dead like Lucario in Mystery of Mew.

That’s it. Have a good Pride month.

[rileyh20]

do you have ponyboy and dally hcs

I don't know if you meant platonically or romantically or if you just wanted the separate characters

So I went with separate characters

Lemme know if that isn't what ya wanted tho!

Ponyboy Curtis:

A pyromantic, he loves fire (Until the church shit)

Suicidal Ponyboy go burrr- (Even if it’s accidental)

Has a fucking terrifying glare, but only actually glares at people when they wake him up (His poor brothers)

Chubby Ponyboy… (Especially after the book cuz his brothers made him eat more to gain nutrients and stuff)

Should not be left alone around a stack of books (He’ll read them all in like two hours)

A really fast reader, but he reads the book over and over again to the point he basically memorizes it

Major third wheel, doesn’t matter if the ship is Jally, or Stevepop, or something else, he’s just a third wheel at heart

Definitely reads the book before he watches the movie 

Sometimes when he wants to write he just can’t, so he does other things instead, but once he’s in the zone, he’ll write for hours without hearing anything around him (He’s just like me fr)

Sarcastic and sassy af sometimes (Because I want him to be, no other reason)

He likes grandma hobbies (You know what I’m talking about, the knitting, sewing kinds of stuff, crafting thingies)

He would be the kind of person who helps you get your locker unstuck when you are either too scared to ask a strong person, or you don’t want your locker beaten into scraps when you could just ask Ponyboy

Cooks sometimes, he ain’t the best, but he isn’t terrible at it (He especially does it if Darry looks like he had a long day)

Sometimes he’s the only person able to stop Sodapop from putting food dye into the food (Especially if Darry is the one cooking)

Sorry y’all, but autistic Ponyboy is what I got for you guys 

May or may not be gender fluid (Let me live my life)

Gets the WORST FUCKING ANXIETY when someone is driving, especially if it’s someone he doens’t trust driving like Two-Bit or Sodapop 😭✋

Okay, but you can’t argue with me on the fact he’s bi coded, and also asexual cuz I want him to be

Has made a joke about Tuesday being “Twosday” (Two-Bit), and everyone just quotes it every now and then

OH ALSO, A DIFFERENT TIME HE GIVES A TERRIFYING GLARE IS WHEN SOMEONE MENTIONS HIS GREEN EYES

Religious Ponyboy… I love you religious Ponyboy

Okay, but on a different note, I think Ponyboy is religious, at least in some way

Somehow knows everyone's full government name??? And also sometimes with use maiden names depending on how angry he is 😭✋ 

Will learn other languages so he can shit talk/swear in front of the gang

You know Ponyboy has those chubby cheeks, just squish his face

I love the HC of Ponyboy being taller than Darry when he grows up, but hear me out, Ponyboy getting a random growth spurt and just somehow being very tall when he’s like 16 or something

Also, gentle giant Ponyboy, please

Dallas "Dally" Winston:

Scared of spiders

He’s also scared of dogs

Ough, I’m thinking bi tbh

Will kick children

Has a soft spot for both Ponyboy and Johnny

Will go violent if he learns someone he cares about got hurt, both emotionally and physically

Sometimes draws, but doesn’t do it that often

Sorry for not having as many for Dally! I've been neglecting my duties to make HCs 😔

[forever-1895]

A sweet but slightly sad moment

From Since I First Saw Your Face by Stavia Scott Grayson (@artemisastarte) - to give you some cheer (long post btw 🤭)

For the people who haven't read this yet, it's written from Holmes' point of view.

It's the Christmas season, and Watson has managed to get Holmes' permission and acceptance even, to fill 221B with Christmas cheer and candies for Baker Street's unofficial detective force 😉

They don't attend church, but on Christmas Eve, Holmes walks into their drawing room and sees Watson looking through a Bible which once belonged to his grandma.

Watson tells Holmes sadly that he used to believe. He used to believe everything, but the 'belief was beaten out of me quite soon, in fact'.

Holmes comforts him, saying that many people find themselves in their situation, especially as they begin to see that sometimes, religion is an excuse/driving force even for misdeeds - how can they still believe?

‘And if we replace religion with the Darwinian model, it seems to lead to a grim end,’ he observed. ‘All nature striving for survival, at the expense of others. Red in tooth and claw. What of goodness then, Holmes? What reason can there be for selflessness, if it brings no advantage to the individual who practises it?’ What moral code can a man follow without a deity?’ ‘You must look into Winwood Reade with me.’ I retrieved my copy from under my chair (how did things always find themselves there?) and showed it to him. ‘Perhaps we could take a healthy course of philosophy together, Reade and Feuerbach, not to mention Kant, as an antidote to this intolerable deal of seasonal sentiment and sugar.’ And then, seeing the hurt in his face that he could not conceal, I thought myself a brute. ‘No, no, I did not mean that, Watson, truly I did not mean it like that. I am a cross-grained creature enough, but not such a brute as not to feel. I am most terribly afraid of sentiment, you see. It – I feel things – I find myself moved – perhaps more than I would wish to be moved – and, and, well, I would not wish you to think me unmanly. Please, my dear fellow, don’t let my careless words hurt you. I – I am –dash it, it is difficult to say this, but, but, well, I have not had such a happy Christmas for many years. I am really very –‘ I looked around at our home, ‘I am quite con – so content here in, in our home.’ He closed the little Bible, not without a regretful caress of its cover, and rose from his seat to replace it in the drawer of his desk. Mute with distress now, I handed him my book to replace his, and he clasped my shoulder kindly. ‘My dear Holmes, you meant no harm. It is I, on the contrary, who am too sensitive on this subject. I fear I am dragging you into all sorts of sociabilities and expenses you would not go to if it were not for me, and I feel rather guilty, d’you see? But is it so much to ask for? Food for the hungry, and a little cheer; the sweetness of Christmas song,’ he nodded to the window outside which a group of waits was butchering the melody of ‘Lo how a rose e’er blooming’. ‘And I know you do not like sentiment. You are a good fellow to indulge me in mine without quibbling.’ ‘If more of us valued food and cheer and song above gain and gold, it would be a merrier world,’ I said, blinking hard against the moisture in my eyes. ‘But as for sweetness of song, Watson, even you must be able to hear that those waits are deplorably flat. Hand me my violin, dear chap, and I shall show you how the immortal Bach intended his chorale to sound.’

but holmes calling himself a cross-grained creature is peak entertainment 👻

[infernalembrace]

My family is still staying in half of the church that wasn’t affected by the bombing because there is nowhere else to stay other than tents. They are limited to one small meal a day and one shower a week. They are sleeping on the floors, but no one can sleep since there is bombing everywhere around them. Even when there is no bombing, they can still hear the loud buzzing sound of the military planes above them, which would keep anyone who hears it awake. Along with everything, My grandma has diabetes and osteoporosis, so she can’t walk. She has to take her insulin medication along with many others; however, she has run out of many of her medications.” Am on my knees requesting for donation. Target $450

Hey y’all! Today I am going to teach you all an easy way to spot scammers. You see this ask I just got? It looks like a typical ask you may get from an actual Palestinian person who needs aid. However, there are a couple of things that give it away as a scam.

Generic, autogenerated username (these are urls that tumblr automatically suggests for you when you first sign up.) Typically a blog run by an actually Palestinian in Gaza seeking aid will have a username that seems actually thought up by a person (usually containing their name/surname, at least from what I see, but of course not always.)

They have a PayPal link and not a GFM. PayPal doesn’t work in Palestine, last I checked.

Unvetted. Now it is important to be VERY DISCERNING when it comes to unvetted GFMs/donation drives. There are less and less people who can do the actual vetting (AFAIK, that process involves someone who is actually physically there and/or can read or speak Arabic to check IDs & verify that the person is actually in Gaza and is who they say they are) so some non-scam legit GFMs are not currently vetted due to that.

Reusing pictures from other GFM posts. You can try using something like tineye or reverse image search on google to check this. DO NOTE that this is not always a sign of a scam and you must be discerning. (From what I’ve seen, sometimes posts might have a few photos in common as they are made by different members from the same family.)

EDIT: It was just brought to my attention that this scam in particular has also stolen text from a different GFM. This is also a sign of a scam.

My tip for not getting scammed? Search the person’s URL on tumblr, or check the replies/notes of their pinned post. There you will usually find other people saying if the post is a scam or not. There is also a Google doc of various vetted GFMs that I linked in a previous post.

So when you encounter a scammer, BLOCK THEM and let others know they’re a scammer! The people who actually need our help are already suffering & are humiliated by the dehumanizing positions they’ve been put in, we don’t need people trying to add on to that with scams.

[inanotherunivrse]

In another universe, my grandpa and I still go out for ice cream every Sunday morning instead of going to church. He drives that old green dodge truck that was passed down to him by his dad that was passed down from his. He gets rocky road and I get cookies and crème and we sit in that old truck and talk until church is over. He never tried to drag me kicking and screaming into religion like other family members, he just understood that sometimes belief is hard for humans. We would take the back streets home and my grandma would fret over the ice cream spilled on both of our shirts as soon as we walked in the door. But that never mattered to me. All that mattered was watching the sun rise as that old truck warmed up and the twinkle in the eyes that were passed down to me.

In another universe, Sunday is still my favorite day of the week.

[dootznbootz]

The dumb and sweet story about my Papa

To get around the "Don't drink and drive" in my area back in the day, a lot of people would ride horses to the bars and back home. There was even a "horse parking lot". Horses remembered their way home from town as it was common to go back and forth even when not going barhopping.

This is incredibly dangerous and don't EVER do this but a lot of folks would get drunk and then hop up on their horse and go home that way. Sometimes needing to have their buddies toss them up on their horse, (sometimes having a rope to tie them on. Again very fucking dangerous.) and the horse would usually go back home from memory. Horses want their food and their friends. Ofc, some horses were naughty but this is just what my Papa (grandpa) told me. People usually would plan it out where "Hey, I'm going to get sloshed tonight, can you pull me off of Butch and take me into the house?"

My Papa didn't do this often (his brother did it more) but this is the one story with my grandma.

One late afternoon, my grandma came home from chores to see my Papa on his big, buckskin gelding, Butch, wearing nice clothes, and having a mess of flowers in his lap but swaying. He was drunk. My grandma was so mad at him as "WTF ARE YOU DOING HERE? And why are you drunk?!"

He was slurring and she needed her sister to help her carry him into the house where they tossed him on their couch. She was getting him water and thankfully her parents were pretty chill and let him stay. She was scolding him when he suddenly grabbed her arm and asked "Marry me?". She said "Yeah, sure, whatever. Hold still" and he just flopped back on the couch. She didn't think anything of it as he was drunk.

Ofc, when he woke up he was hungover. But he was still really happy and was telling my grandma that he thinks they should have their wedding in this church as they're more relaxed, that they'll plan a date around the harvest, that he's been fighting his mom for his grandma's ring (My papa and grandma were from different wealth and social classes and his family did NOT like her.) My grandma was confused af. Where did this come from?

"You said yes? I asked you to marry me and you said yes?"

My Papa is a quiet man (sounds like he was incredibly shy in his youth too) and apparently was so nervous about asking my grandma to marry him that he needed "liquid courage" before he went to see her but had too much. :')

He wanted to give her a romantic "prince on horseback". He had flowers too but they fell out of his lap. Apparently, they found a lot of them on the side of their road on the way to her house. While my grandma was a little mad at him, she says how she should've known as she's always been the "talker" between the two of them. They've been together for around 62 years and are still loving.

Side story: I mentioned how my papa's brother did the whole "Ride a horse home when very drunk" often. My Papa was often the guy who would stay up late til he got back... Sometimes my Papa would be mad at him and just toss him into the wheelbarrow that had the mucked-up straw to sleep and then just took care of Butch before heading back into the house. 🤷

[josendlessmonolouge]

Jo’s grandpa appreciation post bc I just made some overnight oats for tomorrow that he would love.

my grandpa is pretty well my father figure since my dad sucks majorly and anyway heres all the amazing wonderful stuff about him that makes me wish the entire world could have someone like him

He always told me stories when I was little. my favorite was jack and the beanstalk but because he modified it so the giant had a giant cat that in the end when the chop down the bean stalk, jack and his mom sell to a zoo and get a bunch of money.

He believes rhythm is one of the very most important things you can teach a child he used to bounce all us grandkids on his knee to the beat of music and he always encourages me to tap my foot to songs

he’s very dyslexic but currently writing a book

he likes to talk about folk music with me

I’ve dated two boys in my life my first relationship was long distance and he still sometimes calls my grandpa for car advice. When I was dating my ex once him and grandpa talked on my phone for over an hour about stock car racing

if he hadn’t had a family he was going to pursue being a nascar driver

he can build anything, he built me an American girl doll bed when I was a kid and his sister (my great aunt) who lives right next door to him sewed me a mattress for it

he loves vintage western wear

he has my mom cut his hair bc he got mad that his barber kept cutting his hair too short, he says she thinks everyone should have cop cuts but he’s a product of the 50s-70s he likes a longer haircut

he completely replaced the floor and even did the plumbing in our bathroom just recently. ;he’s in his 70s)

once he said he didn’t feel well at dinner with our friends after the nhs ceremony and had us worried about him but actually he was late walking his dogs and didn’t want them to be sad but didn’t want to be rude about leaving

he always signs his title as grampa instead of grandpa bc that’s how I pronounce it. So when I was 13 and he got heart surgery and it was still Covid regulations so I was too young to visit him he wrote a thank you note to my card and signed it that, he always signs off every text message with it

he loves fruit and always keeps apples at his house. He told my mom “I’m a good diabetic.” While eating apple sauce. Still think about that lol

his little westie is the most spoiled dog to exist

Babies always smile at him in public

once I ran into him at lunch at school bc my friends went to the Walmart deli and he was grocery shopping and he apologized to me that he wasn’t dressed nicer (he was in his overalls)

he practically lives in overalls

when I was little my soccer team called him the man in the yellow hat bc he wears a straw hat almost everyday.

he dropped out of highschool.

I bought him a roy rogger tie as a present bc he got really teary over how important Roy roggers was to him as a child and at church that week he really proudly showed it to me.

he can look at anything and measure it

once he fell off a ladder working and had to stay home so we had to go shopping for him he told my mom and I the dimensions of the box of shrimp my grandma likes not the color or price or the brand or amount, but the dimensions.

oh when he fell off the ladder? The person driving the ambulance got lost and he had to tell them where to go.

his dad likes to collect rocks and so does he

he picks my grandma flowers from his garden.

he tells me about people from his childhood he realizes where probably on the spectrum like him and I are. He realize he was on the spectrum after I was diagnosed.

He makes the very best fry bread

he loves perry mason

once I called him in tears because a very baby bird had fallen out of it’s nest in a storm and I wanted him to come and try to save it (I couldn’t as I had cats at my house) or put it out of its misery and he drove out to my house and tried to nurse it to health (sadly it didn’t live)

When I was in upper elementary school I had a lot of meltdowns because I was bullied, other kids where starting to not like school so they were yelling being disruptive my little autistic self couldn’t take it and sometimes I’d have to go home early if it was really bad (eventually I got meds and accommodations) but mom and grandma worked jobs where the couldn’t pick me up so he did and he’d just take me along his errands to Walmart or something. Sometimes we’d get a doughnut. He always understood I wasn’t misbehaving I really wanted to do good and be good.

[winterstaryu]

Today I listened to Josh Groban music for the first time since my mom died.

I never had a lot in common with my maternal Grandmother, a love of words, procedural dramas, and Josh Groban. One of my earliest memories is getting overwhelmed during a camping trip and seeking refuge in my grandma's camping trailer, curling up on the fold-out bed and playing Josh Groban's Awake album on repeat until I was calm.

When I was 13 my Aunt gifted me her old Ipod shuffle. All I had access to at the time were the songs in my mom's ITunes library. Which consisted of Bon Jovi, the Noah's Ark soundtrack, and 4 different Josh Groban albums.

I've had sleeping problems my whole life. They started when I was about 11, I couldn't fall asleep at night, try as I might. But things changed that year, I had music. I listened to Josh Groban every night before bed, for probably 2 years. I still remember the order of the songs in my old Ipod library. I was almost always asleep by The Prayer.

I was 14 the day I had my first panic attack. I was doing an obstacle course for a church youth activity and I got stuck. The only thing that calmed me down was my trusty Ipod, and listening to the most familiar voice in the world to me, Josh Groban.

After that, my panic attacks got frequent. I would have them daily, sometimes multiple in a day. I was always exhausted, I wanted to die. I would later be diagnosed with the same depression my mom had, the one that made me feel at times that I didn't have a mother at all.

But night and day, I had my music, and no matter what, the familiar sounds never failed to calm me. I would feel like I was back, in that camping trailer, curled up in the sun.

When I was 16, my grandma died. The only ringtone I ever heard her use was a Josh Groban song. After, I would listen to that song and cry and miss her.

My old ipod has long since stopped working, but I still listen, anytime I feel lost or alone I play my favorite songs on repeat. It helps, even when I feel like the whole world is falling down around me.

I'm 17, it is just over a year after my grandma died and my mom is diagnosed with cancer. We caught it early, the prognosis is good, they say. I drive her to chemotherapy twice a week and we listen to Josh Groban in the car.

I'm 18, 6 months after being declared in remission, we are told that my mom's cancer is back. Cells, too small to be detected have spread through her lymph nodes. Words like metastatic float around my head. She has maybe six months to live.

I'm 19 when my mother dies. A global pandemic means almost no one is at the funeral, we sing Somewhere Over The Rainbow by her casket, and the next three months pass in a blur.

Everytime I think about Josh Groban I cry, the music that once felt like it connected three generations of my family now just reminds me that they are gone. I can't bring myself to listen.

I'm 23, and I'm finding joy in music again. I don't dance like I used to, but I understand myself better than I ever have before. I listen to different kinds, music to help me focus, music to help me feel the things I want so badly to repress and ignore.

So now I listen to Josh Groban, and there is sadness along with the safety and comfort, and it's okay. Enjoying the same things differently is a part of life. I am not the same person I used to be, but the music connects us the same way it connected me to my mom, my grandma.

[millylouedward]

Bad Granddaughter

A prose poem, by Milly Lou Edward

There, at the bottom of the list, a voicemail dated March 12, 2018. It’s 19 seconds long. I’m terrified I’ll one day accidentally delete it, and so I never hit play. But when I do, when the temptation of hearing her speak one last time becomes too great, my ear is filled with the sound of her raspy voice. I can see the safron curls atop her head. The floral button down shirts. The teal, silicone bracelet. The rows and rows of books. The bowl of M&Ms on the coffee table. The cancer pamphlet beside them. 

I hear her raspy voice in my own sometimes. I fight to clear it, wishing for the smooth sultry sound of someone else. Someone more radiant, more enchanting. And then I remember, it’s my grandmother I want to suppress. My grandmother, with her sagging skin and short stature. It was a running joke in my family that she, and her mother, and my mother would say hmm often. In response to things. To fill the silence. Hmm. I swore I would never do it, never make that small sound so constantly in the way my grandmother and mother did. Later, it would seem to me that I had been among thinkers. Women whose brains were running at millions of miles per second, pondering everything, debating the world in the confines of their minds. But I grew up, and grandma died. Not long ago, I began making that sound myself. It comes from me so often now, when I least expect it. When I'm thinking, questioning. Hmm. I feel terrible for making fun of her when it was only ever a sign of her intelligence. 

Some people fade slowly, but not my grandmother. I’ve since watched my grandfather turn to breathing dust before me, a decade of slipping away into something else, despite his blood still pumping. He stopped being himself long before his time finally came. But my grandmother, no, she just continued on living into 80 years old as if she were no more than 50. I watched her change from the slim, cigarette smoking red headed old lady of my childhood, into a sick woman who wanted everyone to see her bald head after chemotherapy, and then into a survivor. Come here, she said, touch it, and bent her head down towards me to feel the little grayish hairs coming out of her scalp. They were soft. And she recovered as if cancer had been nothing but the common cold. She had been alert up until her last days with us, her hair grown back out and once again dyed red.

Today I played the voicemail again. I listened to it often after she passed, but it hurt too much, and I now chose instead to forget it exists within the files of my cell phone. But now and then, on days like today, I come across it and decide to hit play. Grandma says to me, Hey Em, I hope everything is okay. Call me back, okay? The day comes flooding back to me. I was on her side of town and wanted to visit her for coffee. She didn’t answer, I didn’t leave a message. But I was driving when she called back, and so a message was left for me instead. My grandmother, who I’d never been bothered to visit on my own before, only ever dragged there against my wishes by my mother and forced to sit in her uncomfortable dining chairs listening to them talk about work and church and the neighborhood and everything I didn’t care about, thought that I was calling because something was wrong. 

I haven’t forgiven myself for that. For avoiding her so much. The cigarettes and then the cancer and then the oldness were too disagreeable for me. I preferred to play in the yard or do my homework on visits to Grandma’s house. Any excuse I could use to get away from her during these times, I took. And so the price I pay is the shame I feel when I hear the only relic left, that one small clip of her voice that remains, and know that she never expected me to want to visit. She knew I did not like to see her. Here she had endured abusive men, a teenage pregnancy, ovarian and lung cancer. Four children. Divorce. Working in a school cafeteria. All for her 21-year-old granddaughter to have no desire to see her. If I were in her place, I would have had to wonder why. What about me was so unappealing to my granddaughter that she avoided me so much? Was it my home? The way I spoke to her? The topics of conversation? Was it the way I looked? The real me can never apologize and say, it was not your fault. 

The Christmas before she passed away, my grandmother mailed me a card. Inside was twenty dollars and her name written in pen. The paper was strong and white, blue sparkles all over the envelope. I mailed one back, nothing special, just something I dug out of a box in the loft. In it I wrote to tell her thank you, and that I hoped to see her soon when she was feeling better, as she was in and out of the hospital. My grandmother did not call me, but instead called my mother, who would later tell me that I was the only granddaughter to write her a letter back. Still, the dread fills me. Despite my second and last effort, she still thought I did not want to hear her voice. Her raspy, aged sound. I can only hope that it brought her, however small, a piece of joy in knowing I did care. 

It’s cruel, the way that beautiful, intelligent people are placed into our lives at times that we are unable, or unwilling, to appreciate them. If only the chance were still there, I would sit by the fire with her and listen to her tell story after story. I would write it all down, everything about her mother and her grandmother. I would drink her coffee even if it was a little burnt. I would be there to pour her cup. Instead, I live with the guilt that I never was a good granddaughter, or even an average one. And she has died thinking I did not have any reason to call beyond emergency. 

Only one granddaughter helped carry her coffin, and it wasn’t me. I stood to the side, consoling my heartbroken mother in our black dresses. My sister wept on the other side of her. The first pang of guilt had hit me then, when I thought that I could have very well carried it when I was offered. But I had declined. Out of fear that I could not hold the weight, or disinterest in serving my grandmother with one final act, I don’t know. And in the years since, the shame, the regret, it has only grown stronger and stronger. I cannot call her back to tell her everything is fine, I just want to come over. I cannot put my textbooks back in my bag, sit down at the uncomfortable dinner table, and listen to my matriarchs talk. I have lost my chance at visiting her in the hospital, of supporting her through her two cancer diagnoses. And in exchange, I will not ever know of forgiveness.

[doyouthinkimenjoyingthis]

Sept 19, 2015

My mom's mission when I was in elementary was to find me friends. She would enroll me in academies, befriend mother who has the same kids same age as mine. She'd encourage me to go to Sunday schools and is actually a cult and the church leader Apollo Quiboloy is a shady, trafficking guy. Didn't meet the guy but my friend Frances Jean and her family watches the channel. I couldn't stand even 10 minutes of the program. I am catholic and I like the whole sacramental processes of the mass. The Sunday school went on only for a year. It was fun it wasn't like we are indoctrinated to do some religious shit it's just normal catholic shit. But we weren't allowed to carry a rosary. I have a rosary with me which was a gift that I've gotten from a nun when I was christened at 6.

LIn the morning, there's a morning mass. The kids are separate as not to disturb the adults. All the adults are inside this hall in Lucban Elementary School. They don't come out until five. While we kids, we have all the fun. The rides are free so mom didn't bother driving or dropping me off.

My friend Frances and I have this closer relationship. She has a unique condition. For her age, she has white hair. I just searched about it and it's Vitiligo according to google. Didn't read much. She was bullied for it off course and being called a grandma but I guess she wasn't bothered anymore by it or she just got used to it. Because she seems really strong or resilient. I'm a sensitive child, I wouldnt last that.

Anyway, in this church, I've known kids who have very troubled childhood like we only discuss those in abnormal psychology kind of troubled. One of them, I went to school with her younger brother.

She told us her story about how she is abused by her father.

DSWD has taken actions already but I felt weird about that because I don't refute it's true. Sometimes I can't help compare myself to that girl. We all live in the same neighborhood, we just live a little bit above. And when I come out of my house, I look at every person living their lif , acting nicely, smiling--unknown to me thy have nasty little sins. Unforgivable. Inhumane.

And you know whats the funniest part is itcan be someone closer to me. The worst part is you could have stopped it. You actually have the right tools and connections to do so but you can't because you didn't know enough.

Frances lives in the same neighborhood as me. Yes in a subdivision too but not all subdivision are bougie. Frances and her family of 5 children, her mom works in a government agency Department of Something-- a professional but like she gets pregnant every year. The father not sure he seems normal. But he was kinda funny weird especially during my glow and grow as a teen.

All men except my father and brother in laws are funny weird to me while growing. I know why and it's giving me hibby jibbies .

I've been hanging out with them since I was a kid. But they all live in this one bedroom apartment basement in the in law's building. I didn't think of it as weird back then. I didn't think I was lucky that I got my own room and that my parents are very particular about personal space and privacy.

It has no windows. My dad didn't want me hanging out with them because he doesn't want me to pick up "squatter habits" as he points out. I don't think he's being matapobre but what he meant is he doesn't want me to pick habits that they have like imagine being in the slums-- noisy and stuff, swearing and fighting, drugs, alcohol.

Frances would tell me things that would hint that something is wrong in the family.

Living in a one bedroom apartment is already one of them. I told you about my father's job and he says that small houses am with no privacy encourages child abuse.

I still sleep beside my parents up until I was 5. I had my own room but when Roxanne and Ronaliza was adopted I shared the room with all fourofnus. As family especially stormy seasons, we still like to sleep in one bed, sharing body heat and scary stories. But we all have our rooms. I had to share mine with Roxy and Ronnie when my sister Sally movrd out because dad says she's already 16 and needs her own privacy. The three of us 9 year olds are stuck in a bunk bed and one bed.

I mean what sthe point of that segue as that I can't imagine being that many in that four walls that is too small. Our room is even bigger than that. I mean we do that we sleep altogether occasionally I just can't imagine me being in her situation.

We have a big house with the rest rooms. My parents have their own bathroom.

We have a wide space so we don't get to look at each other the whole time. Imagine being that many and wherever you go whatever you do you you will see them in every angle tests sick

One time Frances told me that her mother was so angry that she made her sleep outside. It was February. She slept in a 5 inch wide bench just enough to accommodate her very thin body.

It was a punishment.

One time when I was 13, I slept outside to punish my parents. Make them feel guilty.

I would see these purple marks around her neck and wrists but she would hide it.

I shared food with her because she wasn't fed. She has no lunch and her lunch money was 20 pesos which wasn't going to buy a decent one.

So I tell my mom to put more and my mother is more than happy too. Until she learned about it because the teacher said that I'm very nice girl because I share my lunch.

Mom was mad and told the kid directly notto ask food from me and thinks Frances is using me.

She made her under the list of friends I am bit allowed t hangout with. So she enrolled me in a judo class Soni won't go to Sunday school.

I remained friends with Frances against my mother's wish which is funnily against her wish to because she wanted me to be friends with her in the first place since we are neighbors, goes to the same school, loves cartoons and books, and that her grandma is a doctor. Frances grandma is also our kagawad and we often come along for the campaigns.

So anyway, until we were in Grade 5, I still hear about this mini abuses of her mother. By that time we've got our menses. I had mine in January 2006 and she got hears before we started Grade 5.

I would hear how his father is weirdly affectionate of her. But I've never thought of it as something bad which afain--irony.

By Grade 6 I had other friends-- the kind of friends my mother wanted for me. Come from a nice family, middle to upper class, high achievers and plays ay least one musical instrument.

W ehave kind of separated but we hangout when watching anime together at 5:00.

By the end of our elementary, she was given money and pleaded me t hang out before we separate schools. I didn't want to because her life is so tragic and i dont want to hear anymore of the abuses or grooming she is getting from her parents.

So we went out chaperoned by her creepy dad to the cinema and watched a very traumatic movie Bridge to Tabitha. Then had some buttered chicken after.

She has gone into special sports program IN city high Andi went into special sciences in UB. I was friends with Jimmy then, and she couldn't understand why I'm friends with her.

I'm friends with the people my mother dislikes. And I'm enemies with people my mother likes and I had to endure.

Maybe I really am a trashy person. I'm not supposed to be well adjusted Buti know now the reason why. I'm queer and I'm into different and more interesting people.

So anyway we were talking the three of us while I learn how to sortmy laundry in our laundry space upstairs.

Frances is helping me how because I don't know how to do laundry.

She said she's going to her aunt and she's going to Davao to serve Christ.

I know that Frances has once dreamed being a nun. She was just like me who has the kind of devoton to God except that I am abit skewed and she's not.

Whenever reproductive system comes up, she tells us that she'll enter the sisterhood not the kind of sisterhood in travelling pants.

Our science teacher would point out that girls would say that off course due to fear of sex, pregnancy and childbirth. On a side note, she claims that we are just saying that now that most of us will be mothers.

Just one of us will become a mother superior.

But in Christian sectz, there's no vocation such as being a priest and a nun.

I was confused and it's not even a real church. Because Apollo Quiboloy is a big fatliar I know.

Because my soeciall talent is sniffing bullshit.

So it was our goodbye.

"Paano volleyball mo?"

I asked

She said she'll still fo volleyball.

I've learned years later the truth from a neighbor, DVD auntie (because she hoards DVDs and we borrow from her) about what is happening

It devastated me because she's been telling me but i didn't help her. At first I didn't know why I was so angry hut I realized it's because of that.

I think that these has just been stories to me just like how my father's cases ee just cases. They are just stories. It's like you cant feel sorry for a movie because it's not real.

And I theorize that swhy bad things happen a lot and worse it gets normalized because good people doesn't do anything.

After Frances left with no contact whatsoever, I moved to different schools. I encounter many of these shocking stories that people are supposed to be in jail for.

But you know when you get thisnkun of stories you don't think about going to the police station to report it. You listen and thinks having this secret or knowingsomethign illegal is cool.

So I stay away and notform attachments so I don't need to know.

Should I have reported it or done something. I have no power or energy.

I stepped into the City High and the students' stories are heartbreaking. The you hear more stories involving even adults who are supposed to protect you because we still are children and are powerless. So when a friend told me this story about her cousin involved with an elderly teacher we were both about to puke. But did we do anything? No. We just stood there in disgust and gossip. At least she didn't laugh about it because I neighborhoods thats what I hear they will year you down spread gossip but won't do anything about it.

But we didn't. We talked about it at night (she was my nanny) and express disgust. Because,the man is 50 something and we sorta mock and imagine the kind of sex they are having. Like imagine fucking a grandpa.

It's awful and disgusting. My mom if you know that Tv5 program SE likeswatching it because of this unbelievable drama that are so trashy squatter like and happens to most Filipinos. She sees the struggle of others as entertainment. Lives of Filipinos are really juicy. And gossip is one real serotonin trigger.

But what Ive learned from my friend Frances shit happens to everyone.

Evil things happens not only in certain communities, classes, educational or socio cononomicak backgrounds. It can happen to the closest ones.

I've closed my doors to any other human attachments and that was a tme I struggle with faith. I stopped being friends with these bougie friends.

I remained a few I share interests with but not too close. It's almost out of duty.

And speaking of Faith that how things changed for me.

Another person to the list my mom don't want me to be friends with.

When I grew out going to academies, dad starts bringing me sports clubs like tennis, golf and squash to enhance my physiquenand social skills but it's actually where you can find a suitable boyfriend and potential rich husband. Someone's who's already rich.

My mother said "never marry for potential."

I believed her. All my sister's did believe that and that's why they delayed dating until they are established and went from dating to marry and snagged decent husbands. Five of my sister's married youngmen actually so it's not applicable.

Julie married her own student. That's classic grooming.

Now I'm going to exit for a while-- I used to go to this DEPED school near our house because most of my friends in the neighborhood go there.

But in just a year of staying there, many shit happened. Child abuses, drama, suicide, spirit possessions and mean teachers. So my mom was horrified and found a nicer school.

Yes just a year. I also entered a local quiz completion hosted by RPn. Can't remember anyway.

She stopped setting me up with friend when I was 13. She realized I'm having my own personality and that I will choose my own friends noatter how she hates it. She was healing from surgery.

Jimmy was my only friend and Eunice.

We spend time watching DVDs and singing and dancing to Britney Spears. Their moms are cool. My mom wasn't and doesnt like it but it's what I wanted.

When I transferred to City High when I was 14, I cried because my friend is going back t Manila. A really good friend turned out she's my crush.

She gave me money so I can join in the goodbye party.

She doesn't get angry when I'm drunk. But she breathes in and out. She knew I was having problem with my faith and she's really worried about me going the bad wayn

I continue to have bad friends bit it barely turned me bad.

I told you-- I'm more of an observer. A voyeur. It's like watching Tv.

My mom since then met all my friends even those from the church service off course and she was glad that I'm in touch with spirituality.

And Constant is there but then he died.

My mother told me that life is an elevator. Whether you go down or up, people leave.

I never thought it has affected me. Because the following years creating new bonds became really different.

It's like I cant anymore.

When I turned in college since I'm not a cool girl, I asked my mother a lot of money for books and a laptop. That's all I've been doing. No friendships except for Hollmae and a few.

She met them and is satisfied that's found my own tribe. I think my mom is a successful parent through med. S e made me trust her. She made me be the rgin anymore. And when I told her whom I lost it, she's not even half surprised. She got hurt off course but she accepted it.

Parents usually look at their kids as still their little angel who is innocent and they think they can't do antyhing that seems bad.

Mom never looked at me as if I don't deserve to be treated like a baby anymore.

Nothing d

[mon4504]

Strange Experience

This post is kinda all over the place lol but I promise it will make sense in the end.

So I have always been around a church growing up and my family has pretty much always gone church. But as I have gotten older I grew away from the lord.

Now the point of this post is to get others views on what they might thank.

So I had started a new job the same day that my coworker(who is a big part of this story) had started so there are now 4 adults in the room. So pretty much from day one I had got a weird feeling in my gut from her. But I couldn't really put my finger one it. Until one day she told me that she was a practicing witch. Now for some context she felt comfortable telling me this because we had kinda bonded over watching the same people on youtube. ex Sam and Colby, CelinaSpookyBoo, and Kallmkris. Also for references this was around the time that Sam and Colby Series came out iykyk.

But the point is a few days later while we were both at work we got to talking again and she opened up to me that she could see "things/people" now I believe her on that kinda for ex. she described one of my great grandams that had been dead before I could even drive keep in mind I am 20!

Now up till that point i hadn't really thought about her as much as I do now , but the reason I say that was because of what she told me. She told me that my deceased great grandma would just show up around me while we were at work and she(my deceased great grandmother)told her that she was always just kinda with me like a Guardian angle way. I was honestly so shocked in a way and was also kinda happy that she was still around me of all the people in our family (its a big family she had 6 kids who each had 2-4 kids themselves and so on).

On another kinda side note kinda not. But I was talking to my grandma today who is her daugther. She said that she was one of the 3 oldest and that her mom (my great grandmother) favored the 3 youngest, and that she didnt really care for the 3 oldest that much which i truly beileve. But it could also be a generational thing possibly because I am 20 so my grandma is 72 and her mother (my great grandmother) has been gone for some years now but passed in her 80s. So I wanted to give some background on my family and me as it will come back up later.

Back to me at work.

So my coworker and I had been talking about possibly going ghost hunting sometime together. Keep in mind she is a practicing witch and she can see things and so on. Also around this time was getting closer to the Lord like I was seeing signs of the lord. So I confident that I would be just fine, that the lord would protect me and them. (But as you'll read I do not think I was as strong with the Lord as I thought I was.) Anyways, she asked if she could invite her friend that was a "baby witch" her words NOT MINE! So I was completely fine with it because her friend also works in our career field so it made me feel more comfortable. Now with that being said we had planned to meet up that night to ghost hunt.

Im going to skip a little bit ahead because im leaving out minior things that DON'T matter.

So we get to where we a ghost hunting. (in like a wooded park area) and all 3 of us go under a shelter to sit at the tables. Then my coworker like (went under with headphones on and eyes closed) iykyk. Also it is dark out like an hour before the place we were at closed. Anyways I sat down with the (baby witch, yes this is what I am going to call her) while her friend/my coworker was under. But as well started to ask questions it didn't really make any sense as usual. But then as we were there longer we started to get things. Which honestly started to scare the (baby witch) because whatever/whoever we were talking to was saying things about something that would happen to one of her siblings. Which I know this because when my coworker (big witch, yes that is what I am going to call her that lol it will make it easier I promise) came out of being under. So we started to talk about everything that had been said, so that started to freak us all out. Like ALL 3 of us! Then the big witch said what she saw while she was under(keep in mind her head was down and eyes for closed and covered) which was something that was not something we should be talking to or even be near at this time because of how vulnerable we were the whole time we were out at the first place. Yes, I know we should have learned from that, that we should have stopped but of course we didn't. STUPID I KNOW! Anyways we ended up running to the car stupid I know but we started to hear things around us and the big witch said that we needed to get out of there right now because something was coming for us and I 100% that because I heard it coming as well.

Just an FYI the thing that we were running from was something that we should not have ran from also something that I won't say out loud or even through this post so iykyk but if not then DO NOT WORRY ABOUT IT! TRUST ME YOU DO NOT WANT TO!

Now we finally get to the second and final place we were going to that night. Now I would just like to say that it was at an old folks home but like in the parking lot far away from the building as to not to disturb anyone alive.

So we got started and it said things like "hurt" "her" "month" "accident" "months" "train" "building" "room" "head".

Along with many other things that didn't make any sense then and still doesn't now. But then it started to talk about (baby witch) about something happening to one of the silbings again so we tried to get more answers but could not. To the point it started to get super dark and we all decided to end the session and say goodbye. Also I prayed over all of us at the end as well.

Now fast forward a few days into the work week I was injured at work. Which all the words that we had gotten which I quoted above. They all made sense to me now a month after it all happened because I ended up getting a head injury that kept me from thinking because it hurt too much.

So a month after all this I have been thinking as well as been praying and talking as well as getting closer to the Lord that I understand. I understand now that it was all a lesson from the Lord himself.

But what I am not sure about is what the big witches intentions are not since that night. For the reason of getting physically sick just being around her and talking about things from that night. I feel like I just really have not been myself since then.

So if anyone has any answers, questions, ideas, or comments please feel free to do so.

[wanderinglotus7]

Postcards from VA

There's nothing like being able to go home and get a nice recharge from my typical day to day of my new life. It's kind of weird saying "my new life". I'm still figuring out if Boston feels like home; or even if I can call Boston home. Every place that you live at has its pros & cons, you just hope that wherever you reside that there's more pros than there are cons. Some things I do appreciate about living in Boston (Newton) is that most places are walkable, public transportation is easy to access, I can always find something to do, my church community at NewCity, the history, and the diversity. Some of the cons are the lack of parking, the high cost of living, the busyness of the city, difficulties of establishing new friendships along with dating, and the overt/covert racism (and other isms). There's no such thing as a perfect place unless it's in my dreams.

Thinking logistically, If I cannot longer financially support myself in MA, I began looking into other living situations. Like relocating to Rhode Island or North Carolina. North Carolina would be my first choice because it reminds me of Virginia without returning to Virginia. If I want to visit home or attend family functions, I won't be that far away from everyone. Maybe no more than a 4-to-5-hour drive at the most compared to a 9-hour drive. Like Massachusetts there are plenty of job opportunities it just depends on what I am interested in pursuing. The job opportunities in Rhode Island seem a little small however, I can still work in the same line of work I'm currently doing. Yet, the work would be more related to domestic violence and sexual violence. Not much related to trafficking. If I were to relocate to any state in the US, I can always get a job as a school social worker. I'm not permanently attached to any one job or place. I think this is becoming my catch phrase, but I'm riding the wave. I'm remaining in my stillness.

We received word on Thursday that Adelante was rewarded the OVC grant. This means that the trafficking program has funding for the next three years. This also means I have a job for three years. If I want to continue my work in the anti-trafficking field but want to change the population I'm working with, I would work with youth in a counseling or mentorship framework; no case management if I can avoid it. Or I could go another route and teach a psychology or social work course or two at a university or provide mental health services to young adults (college students). Time will tell. I know for sure that I don't want to work more jobs than necessary. My work ethic isn't based on money. My work ethic is based on my passion and interest in the work that I am doing. Either way, let's see in 2 or 3 years where I am at in my life. I may be single now, but I might find myself in a relationship next year or my financial situation may change.

Roots. Home. Gloucester will always be home. So much has changed, but so much has remain the same. I was happy to see that my dogwood tree came back to life because the last time I laid eyes on it it was on the brink of death. Spending time with Snoopy, family, and friends was comforting, but also disheartening. Some people just don't change (smh). The answer to that is it to love those from a distance if they are worth my energy in maintaining those relationships especially when it comes to family. And sometimes it's best to let those relationships dissolve for my own growth and emotional well-being. I still get emotional when I think and speak about my Grandma Shirley and my granddaddy. It hurts seeing their homes empty. It's like all the life around there has been sucked away. I did take the opportunity to visit their grave sites, but it didn't make things easier. I do know that I can still feel their presence, but they make themselves known in different ways. I wonder when the pain will settle. I wonder when the pain will become less to bare.

[dellb1969]

The Candy Bag

The Candy Bag 2009

When I was a young boy the trip to Grandmas house for Christmas dinner was always an adventure, but for my mother it seemed like an undertaking. By the time we six kids had all been put into the car with the many bags of Christmas gifts and food, you would have thought we were going on a pilgrimage.

If you have ever driven from Old Agency to Waubay it really was! I could hardly stand the trip with my siblings driving me nuts and the anticipation of opening gifts. Sometimes we would end up driving in a blizzard of harsh wind and blowing snow, drifts as high as you could see!

I remember the old clunker we had for a car, of hoping and literally praying our frozen behinds off that we would make it to the top of the hill at Clarks Corner.

I was always so excited to arrive at grandmas house to see my aunts, uncles and cousins and of course Grandma Clara. After making it through the gauntlet of cheek pinching and kisses, all of the coats, boots and mittens in a big pile on the floor, I would head straight for the tree. I was always so amazed at the seeing the many pretty colors and the smell of pine. The bows, ribbon, shiny paper and glass of many colors, I can see it now like it was yesterday. I know I certainly feel it in my heart.

The church hall next door to my Grandma Clara's house had a glow about it that was inexplicable, it was the hub of the festivities. It’s where the food was prepared and staged, where we would all eventually sit down to have Christmas dinner and finally where we would open gifts.

Christmas presents for boy size M or girl size 7, CLOTHES! It didnt matter who you were, somehow there was a gift there for you. My grandmother would make up candy bags out of an ordinary, everyday brown paper lunch bag. She would fill them with mixed nuts still in the shell, add an apple, orange, peanuts. I remember the hard Christmas candy made into ribbons and bows. Some of them round with swirls, the taste of peppermint, cherry and orange. The bags were loaded with everything a kid could want. I will always remember the smell upon opening them of fruit and candy. Sweet ‘n salty!

I would always save my candy bag for when I returned home, after all the gifts had been opened and the toys were thoroughly exhausted from play. I would sit down to watch a holiday program with my siblings and dig right into my candy bag. Pure Christmas joy.

It’s been more than a couple years now since my grandmother Clara has passed on, we no longer go to her house to celebrate Christmas or have Christmas dinner. The memories of seeing all my relatives will live with me forever and seeing their smiling, loving faces will stay in my heart. It would seem to me that the tradition of Christmas dinner with my extended family would pass too...

One night during Christmas holiday my heart felt saddened as I left Christmas Mass, I couldn't get my grandmother out of mind. She made the holidays so special for many of us, for you knew the true meaning of Christmas and love. I went to bed that night feeling a little melancholy and I dreamnt of my family and of Christmas' past, the joy of the holidays. I remember seeing my grandmother, I cried, in my dream and as I lay sleeping. She talked with me awhile and though I don't recall alot of what was said I sure felt it in my heart.

When I woke the next morning my first words were, "We have to have Christmas dinner, It's what Grandma wants."

I would have never guessed what an ordeal it is to put together a feast for so many people, My grandma would save up all year round to pull this one night off. We all miss her very much, But the only way to truly honor her memory is to continue what she began, to put forth the love and thought for one another and to live with that spirit not just at Christmas time.

We have had our second Christmas dinner this year and it was a wonderful time to be with family and to be able to share a small moment of time in our year to get together and remember.

Next year we will continue to grow...

This was originally written in 2009 and so much has changed that it can often be heartbreaking and yet the loving memories still live on for me. They always will.

Maybe one day we’ll have Christmas dinner as a family again…

That’s my Christmas wish.

[undermattsun-archive]

wait at what age were u going to church and all that mass stuff bc idky i’m not religious

um,, all my life?

[x-infernhoes-x]

Evermore- Maliksi x Reader

Title: Evermore

Genre: : )

Warnings:  Not much but I’ll leave it to you guys lmao. Implied Relationship as well so ye.

Word Count: 1, 690 k +

Description: I don’t know WHY I get ideas for fanfics at ungodly hours of the night like I’m supposed to be on a break here since my neck still hurts from writing that 2k pound of word vomit that is known to be one of my greatest smut piece that eventually earned me the title as ‘The Emissary for Zaddy Cannibal’ WHEEZE and I started writing this at 1:57 am so let’s hope I’d finish this before 4 am. I’m basing some stuff I know about Maliksi from the comics and perhaps the anime as well. I also suggest listening to Evermore from the live-action version of Beauty and the Beast after reading!

PS. I didn’t finish this last night because I got sleepy at 3 am. There’s an AO3 version of this that’s direct to the point if you want something shorter than this one which can be found here! Oh and my grandma suggested that I set the font size to 12 instead of 11! and as always, I finished this at 3:29 am GGWP talaga.

Anyways, enjoy! _______________________________________

If people asked about how the Prince of Tikbalangs was like as a person, most of them would describe him as rowdy, haughty, stubborn at times may even be perceived as a pervert due to his distaste of not wearing any underwear underneath his jeans. Some thought of him as the classical, spoiled rich kid who cared for no one but himself but in reality, he was so much more than what people would perceive him to be. Being a Prince was something, sure he got everything that he wanted regardless of what it was, he would always find a way for it but sometimes it led him to live a rather lonely life that felt like he was nothing more but a slave to live through this illusion of being the perfect prince.

If they took the time to peek through the curtains of his façade, they would see that he just wanted someone to understand and see him for who he is but this also proved to be contradictory for the poor fellow given the fact that every time someone would show him just the right amount of honesty and kindness, he would find out that most of these people were only after him for things such as taming him to become their loyal servant, for his money or even for the sake of his looks. He thought that this curse of his would stay with him for the rest of his Engkanto life but somehow that all seemed to change his rather pessimistic view on life when he had come across someone who would turn his whole life in a different direction.

Maliksi had met (Y/N) (L/N) on one of his father’s many extravagant events where he was forced to sit through it. Of course, while his father was busy chatting away, the prince took this as an opportunity to sneak away which eventually led him towards an unsuspecting person who would change his life forever.

At first, the two of them were like total opposites, always clashing and arguing about something to the point that his father, Senior Armanaz had to interfere with their constant bickering but time seemed to wear both Maliksi and (Y/N)’s dissatisfaction for each other’s presence and instead began to tolerate the other, which eventually led into something more than just friendship among the two.

Maliksi and (Y/N) were completely inseparable, almost attached to the hip to the point that the Prince was rarely seen without them. He would take (Y/N) on trips across the country, sometimes he would take them out on long drives after his races and almost everything in between. People have reported that the two seemed even more in sync especially in battle, covering each other’s backs while bantering about which car model was the best or where they would eat after this whole ordeal like the two of them were playing a mere game of Patintero or even playing a good round of Pogs to see who got the most hits on their opponents and who seemed to be stronger.

But there were precious moments where Maliksi would take them on trips across the country just to escape from the hectic and bustling streets of the city and gave them the taste of what it means to be free and live life in color. He would watch his partner’s joyful and almost curious gaze with a feeling of warmth and care in his chest that would make him smile along with them, the two of them would participate in various festivals such as Flores de Mayo and its ritual pageant, Santa Cruzan, The Masskara Festival in Bacolod down to his personal favorite which happened to be the Moriones Festival that takes place in Marinduque. But out of those trips, the one that he treasures the most was the time Maliksi and his parents had flown out to their home province, Bukidnon to celebrate the Kaamulan Festival where his partner met the rest of the family, of course, this was also the time where he had proposed to (Y/N) after their 3 years of dating, he was glad that they had accepted his proposal.

Who knew things would eventually change from thereon. With the underworld restless and agitated from all the events that have transpired, it seemed to put a strain between Maliksi and his fiancé. To make matters worse between the two, Maliksi began to do races that would conclude in fatal car accidents for both parties. This would result in (Y/N) and Maliksi arguing non-stop every time they meet however these fights never resulted in something physical but it would leave them in tears or the other walking away with a slam of the door. This cycle seemed to break the moment a certain Babaylan-Mangdirigma had beat him at his own game and managed to snap some sense into him as well the moment his beloved ran at him at full force, scolding him right in front of Alexandra Trese before the two left to settle their problems in private.

“Magpakasal na tayo.” Maliksi told (Y/N) the morning after the two of them had reconciled. Of course, this made his fiance cough up their drink, eyes wide and still hacking their lungs out while Maliksi made his way over to them, patting their back gently to ease their pain. Once things were clear, (Y/N) could only look at him, disbelief and surprise evident on their face before they spoke, “Seryoso ka ba?! Paano yung simbahan, yung venue-“ Holding their hands in his own, Maliksi could only give his soon-to-be spouse a grin, placing a chaste kiss upon the back of their hands. “Wag ka nang magalala, babe. I’ve got it covered.” And just like he had said, Maliksi did have it covered, the venue, the church, and everything in between. It was a quick but simple ceremony that had his parents and (Y/N)’s parents present and nobody outside of the clan knew about this union between them. Time seemed to move quickly after that but the two newlyweds felt like it was an eternity for them both.

In a short amount of time the fantasy of church bells and dreaming faded into war cries and chants of ‘Sic Itur Ad Astra’  quickly and we see Maliksi and his spouse come face to face with the greatest foe they’ve ever come across, the war-god of Bukidnon, Talagbusao. With the rest of their forces subdued by the War God and Maliksi trying to recover from the hit he had taken from Talagbusao, the Tikbalang prince seemed to take notice that his spouse was nowhere in sight and panic seemed to take a hold on him like a choke-hold. Standing up, he began to look for them, ruby-red eyes rapidly scanning the area, furiously looking for his beloved, silently praying to Bathala that they were okay or let alone still be alive.

His prayers seemed to be answered when he saw them, still kicking and fighting and running to where Talagbusao was and he immediately knew something was wrong. “(Y/N)!! ANONG GINAGAWA MO!?” Maliksi yelled out through the sound of roaring bullets, trying his best to reach over to where their lover was.  “Alexandra, ngayon na!” Maliksi heard (Y/N)’s commanding voice ring out as she caught the Babylan-Mandirigma’s knife, Sinag throwing it to her while they subdued Talagbusao to the best of their abilities, eyes locked with their husband as they mouthed at him, ‘Patawarin mo ako, Maliksi.’ And as quick as a flash, Alexandra, Talagbusao, and (Y/N) disappeared into the Dragon’s Gate. Maliksi was left to watch his spouse in paralyzed horror and shock disappear right before his eyes, chest clenching in panic as the impact of the closing portal sent everyone nearby it flying backward.

_____________________

A month has then passed after that event and we see Maliksi within the Trese household as he would always do, always waiting, hoping, and praying that his (Y/N) would return to him safe and unharmed. This day was different than the other days he would spend at the household because this day was the day that Alexandra Trese had returned as announced by a pale-looking and wide-eyed Hank. The tikbalang prince was the first to head where Alexandra---who was now swarmed by her older brothers and the kambal, his eyes still searching for his spouse, his expression of hope immediately diminished as he spoke, his voice slowly trembling with each step he took, “Nasaan si (Y/N), Alexandra?”  at the mention of his spouse’s name, Alexandra then refused to meet his eyes as the rest of the Trese siblings along with the Kambal clearing a path for him, all watching him with disconsolate looks and glistening eyes as Alexandra held onto Sinag as tightly as she could, trying her best to find the right words to say to him.

“Wala na si, (Y/N), Maliksi. She’s gone.”

_________________________

“There is a story, of a man who had lost his beloved in a war, some say he still waits for their return, others say that the day his beloved had disappeared, he had soon followed.” 

“They say that this man could be found standing by the tall windows of Tower A [1] located in Ayala Avenue. Urban myths suggest that this man is a ghost bound to the building, others say that he’s the reason why that Tower still exists.” Now in his prime, Maliksi sat in the place where his father used to sit. It had been years since he had taken over the clan and years since his beloved, (Y/N) was taken away from him at such an early age. Beside him was an empty throne reserved for them once they return. No matter how many years it would take him, Maliksi Armanaz, former prince and now leader of the Armanaz clan, would still wait for his beloved, (Y/N) to return to him until the end of his days. He would wait for them for evermore.