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writingwenches · 2 months ago

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Philia 1, agape 3, & ludus 5 for the OC of your choice 💕

OoOoOo! I had fun with this one and used this as a chance to explore my version of Alicent's mother Alaerie Hightower/Florent~ Thanks for the ask! And sorry to took 5ever~

voice inspiration — Bernadette Peters face inspiration — Christina Hendricks themes — Ive been so many people having Alicent's mother "die young" which makes sense, but I wanted to make a version that was an "older" mother because Alicent deserves to have a mother that lived a full life~

content: pregnancy complication discussion

1//Philia — Does your OC have a Best Friend? If they do then how long have they known each other and how did they meet? If they don’t then do they have a close group of friends they love equally? Or are they more of a loner?

There are three relationships that shaped the world around Alicent, through her mother Alaerie Florent.

Mina Flowers — Alaerie's mother died when she was around 4, and was raised by Septas and tutors since. Alaerie's childhood friend, Mina was a noble bastard that Lord Emmet Florent allowed to be raised alongside his daughter in Brightwater Keep. Mina is a bastard of House Blackbar, from Bandallon, a seaside city East of Brightwater. Growing up, Alaerie would defend Mina's bastardry as something that Mina shouldn't be judged on, until Mina found herself pregnant at a young, unmarried age. House Florent threw her out, and Alaerie learned to never trust a bastard. This opens up a fun potential for a Bastard OC around Daemon's age~

Otto Hightower — Alaerie had spent her youth dreaming of marrying a Lord and becoming the Lady of a noble house, prepared to represent her new family in all of their glory. Alaerie spent time during her studies of Noble Houses to dive into the ancient histories of houses she particularly enjoyed, and daydreamed about being the perfect Lady for them. When she met Otto, she was instantly smitten by him, she wasn't even aware. She had planned her whole life to be the perfect Lady, that she was surprised when Otto's offer of being nothing more than his wife excited her. She loved Otto and would consider him her best friend. She found him charming, handsome, and intelligent. But, being a proper pious woman, she was embarrassed by her attraction to her husband. I picture Alaerie as an older mother, having her first child around 30, nearly ten years of marriage. Because of their struggles to conceive, I'm sure there were plenty of Maesters involved in her and Otto's bedtime ~rituals~ which would have embarrassed her to no end. She would often admit to Alicent that her father was quite the romantic, and Alaerie raised Alicent to be excited for true romance in her future marriage. Unfortunately.

Aemma Targaryen — I wouldn't necessarily say they were best friends, but they had a very close relationship. Aemma and Alaerie give off "work colleague" vibes, because they were the only other women/mothers in their world and their kids are best friends. Alaerie was up to a generation older than Aemma, so Alaerie thought of Aemma as the younger sister she never had. Alaerie gave birth to her youngest child, when Aemma gave birth to her eldest child. Both women experience pregnancy struggles and complications. Alaerie struggled more with conception, where Aemma struggled in later parts of pregnancy. Alaerie did not speak often of her miscarriages, and because they were usually early on, she was physically able to "carry on" easier. This gives Otto a warped sense of recovery. Alaerie cheers Aemma on and assures her is Alaerie could have two children, Aemma could as well. Alaerie is very team "GET AEMMA PREGNANT" which could lean into Aemma's wanting to give up trying after her Baelon pregnancy, because Alaerie/her cheerleader has died

3//Agape — To what extent does your OC believe in the value (or even existence) of true altruism? Do they see an unselfish concern for the welfare of others as being naïve or foolish? Or as a moral quality to which people should aspire?

Alaerie was raised as a proper lady of the Faith of the Seven, she judges her family when they fall short, it's not like its hard to follow the rules. Alaerie believes that the church has the answer for "true altruism" and she will follow it as closely as possible, even to the extent that she is embarrassed to be attracted to her husband.

Being a noble, she was raised with a "herd mentality" in reguards to small folk. So, she cares about them as a collective, rather than individuals. The needs of the many out way the needs of the few when it comes to small folk only. High borns are special and chosen by The Gods™ to have a better life than peasants.

5//Ludus — What seduction techniques are most likely to be effective when it comes to your OC? Are there some things guaranteed to get them going? Or are they immune to such things?

Otto is a man from The Reach, he was taught proper etiquette from the best knights in the realm, I would imagine that they are allowed a more ~feminine~ side when around women. So, Otto opening up and being vulnerable with her and only her is so special and sexy to her. Alaerie married Otto, not out of obligation, but because she really enjoyed him, and there were times that he treated her as his equal. He could bring her a coquette of flowers and ask her about her political opinions and she'd swoon. Otto really did enjoy what she had to say, and sought out her opinions..........was he doing this because he actually cared about those opinions? Or did he know that it was the quickest way to get her clothes of?? 🤷🏻 I guess we'll never know....

#ask games #oc: Alaerie Florent

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joulsseur · 2 years ago

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have you seen ALFRED FLEET?. we’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re EARNEST but also AGGRIEVED. i heard that HIS main objective this season is ASSURE HIS SISTER'S DEBUT IS SUCCESSFUL.

STATISTICS

full name : alfred tba fleet. meaning : tba nicknames : fred, big al. occupation : personal guard of princess hyacinth windsor. noble titles : n/a. title of reference : mister. gender + pronouns : cisman, he/him. orientation : heterosexual heteromantic. age : thirty - two.

BACKGROUND

date of birth : tba, 1778. place of birth : london, england. rank : working class. father : george alfred fleet. mother : elizabeth grace fleet. siblings : georgina, tba and grace; all younger. relationship status : unmarried. languages : english.

APPEARANCE

faceclaim : jack o’connell height : 173cm / 5'8'' hair: gold-copper blonde, brushed back; his beard is well grown, but often trimmed, and more coppery than the hair of his head. eye: blue.

HISTORY

trigger warning for parental death, parental abuse, implied depression.

the eldest child of the booming fleet family, the rejoicing of alfred’s birth would not accompany him throughout his years. it seemed that, from early on, alfred was nothing like his ambitious, dynamic, eloquent father — he took too long to learn his letters, and struggled more with numbers than he would be keen to admit; there is no name to describe the malady that befalls him (word blindness would only be coined 70 years later, and dyslexia would take a few more years), but it is no short of embarrassment that a journalist’s son can barely read the news upon paper. despite the fallback, the look of disappointment upon his father’s face — that would be one he’d grow very familiar with — would make the young boy strive to do better, an attempt well matched by his father, who did not relent nor give up on building him to be his heir, but also for his mother, who was much gentler in her lessons, coaxing him out of bed with the promise of sweet treats and teaching him practically, and fondly, eventually bringing him to help her tuck in his siblings, leaving him in charge of the stories told at bed time.

family was important for the fleet. if by dad’s words, it meant legacy, by mother, it meant companionship — either way, there was responsibility attached to familial bonds, a weight that have always made alfred see life heavier than others his age. while his siblings were dismissed to prepare to high society, he was to be his father’s ghost, constantly trailing after the man to learn from the best, to carry on his inheritance in the right way. by the age of eighteen, alfred had grown numb to the ruckus of the print, senseless to the smell of ink, and accustomed to rising way too early and sleeping way too late — it was telling that his father had, eventually, accepted that he was to become an editor, giving the second to last review to the paper every night before sending it to the press. during those inspections, he had not thought like george and deemed the words printed too harsh at times, but it was often brushed off by the patriarch as the lack of true journalistic instinct, yet one of many remarks alfred learned to ignore.

there was no time for i told you sos when catastrophe hit the family, not when alfred, too, was left in ruins. twenty at the time, he had done as he could to salvage the family’s business, but all he managed to muster was mild comprehension by their laborers, whom he arranged to be paid first, still leaving immeasurable debt on the hands of other creditors. it was through his personal connection with them that he took on a job on the city — though being a heir to his father meant that his heirloom was gold or stray, george prefered that the eldest stayed in the city, where the coin he gained was actual money much necessary to raise his still young siblings, and not just housing. his mother’s death has alfred almost tempted to abandon that misery, finding his father had become even more distasteful after their loss, but she has him promise on her death bed not to leave his siblings unsupported, and so he would spend the rest of his life trying to live by that.

alfred had thought living under his father’s thumb had been difficult, but the new reality was worse. while before he had been urged to partake on a social life to further the family’s connections (something he had done half - willing, half - out of obligation), now he simply had no time between traveling back and forth from the farm to the city, to the jobs performed; he could not numb himself either, seeing as that had become george’s favored matter of dealing with life, forgetting that the fleet house, even without their mother, still had plenty of life and alfred simply could not leave georgina alone with all the household and childrearing duties barely at the age of seventeen. in the city were also people who still remembered the fleet name — after giving out his surname for temporary lodging, he had to hear a rather unpleasant commentary about his family, which caused alfred to break the foul mouthed’s jaw, just barely escaping from prison for it before a rich fellow — whom he had once shared champagne and fineries with — declared interest in employing him in a fighting rink. perhaps it had been a demeaning offer on his part, but the money was so good alfred could not turn away from.

at twenty one, he is announced as a newcomer in the rinks as big al — teasingly for his small stature, but thick frame — and he brings home the best cash they’ve had in a year. his father does not notice how bruised he is, but the money goes into the kids’ education, and on a little savings for the future, spoken with a glint of ambition on his slumbering gaze, that alfred has to bite his tongue not to talk back to his drunken father. the routine would continue for two more years; despite the injuries sustained and the consistent nagging by his sister, the money is too good to pass away the opportunities, and by the end of 1802, the financial debt of the fleets had been considerably chipped away. the first fight he misses is due to the appearance of a stubborn little blonde girl, whom he had thought to be an orphan and, seeing her vulnerability, was in half a mind to take her home and raise her alongside grace, who seemed to be around her age. much to his surprise, the girl would turn out to be one of the youngest princesses, and when an offer of employment is made, he is almost too relieved to accept it.

by 1811, alfred continues in his position as hyacinth’s guard. she’s as much as his sibling, almost daughter, as his own sister grace, and he treats her as such, overlooking her escapades while protecting her during those. the debt accumulated by his father has been long paid off, and the amount put away for a new printing empire grows, but alfred is not sure he is even fit anymore — or interested — in following those dreams, half - forgotten in his mind if not for the weight they still push on his back.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

from the past:

society people whom he got along/didn’t get along with ( should be 32+ since that happened 12 years ago ); people who remember him for being george’s boy or for his time as a wrestler/fighter; a fiancee (30+) whose relationship broke up disastrously around 11 years ago (may be a wc on the main)

more recent:

people who works/visit the palace; people who knows him for hyacinth or his family.

#mayfair.intro

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maytheoddshq · 2 years ago

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Collier Lignite (he/him). District Twelve Tribute. Twenty-Three. Christopher Larkin.

tw: illness For living in District Twelve, Collier really didn't have it all too bad growing up. Not like the most of the District, at least. Collier is the eldest son of a District Twelve Victor. One of the few victors that District Twelve has, that is. His father, Mineral Lignite, was the winner of the 81st Hunger Games winning at eighteen years old. Of course just like every other victor, he was given a nice house in Victor's Village and lots of money and food every year so life was basically easy. He soon after married his teenage sweetheart that he was with before entering the games, they had some children and Collier was born. Collier grew up in Victor's Village not having to worry about much and life was great. Even when Collier became a teenager and most of his friend's began working in the mines, he was able to stay in school due to not really needing the extra money. He made it all of the way through school, finishing at eighteen, and then began his career at the mines.

At first, everything was pretty normal for the most part. Collier didn't have to put too may hours in to the mines, just enough to insure he had his own spending and mostly just lived off of his parents' money. That was, until his father passed away unexpectedly shortly after Collier had turned eighteen. With the victor income ending, Collier had no choice but to spend more hours in the mines.

It was a horrible feeling having to be main income and provider for his family but Collier didn't want his mother to have to work. Especially with Collier having younger siblings, he wanted her to worry about them and only them. The man's days in the mines were long and they felt endless. Every day had felt harder than the last. He worked sixteen hour days and six days a week. Only getting one day off a week, Collier didn't have much of a life outside of work. His only day off was spent mostly catching up on sleep and trying to spend time with his mother and siblings.

As a result of working harsh conditions in the mines, Collier recently found out he's developed black lung disease, also known as Miner's Lung. Due to the damage he struggles to breath and has a hard time doing most active activities. He still hasn't let his mother know, scared she will force him to cut back on hours, which would cause even bigger problems.

Before being reaped, Collier always had a positive look on the Hunger Games. Of course, he didn't support people killing each other against their will. But, he did believe that the Capitol did compensate the Victor's greatly.

Collier's personality is mostly everywhere. He has days where he is quiet, some days he's the 'class clown', and other days he's just overly happy. His personality is unpredictable but for the most part, he tries his best to be friendly every single day.

Collier's district token is from his younger sister, it is a bracelet made out of many different color strings.

(+) Friendly, fast thinker, Detail-oriented (-) Endurance, Impatient, Criticism

PENNEDY BY: Peach

#oc rpg #oc rp #lsrpg #lsrp #new lsrp

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celiachante · 2 years ago

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☆ SABRINA CARPENTER, FEMALE, SHE/HER ☆ CÉLIA CHANTÉ the TWENTY FOUR year old has been trapped here since 2000. We heard the PERSONAL TRAINER made themselves at home in BIRCHWOOD PARK. While others around town have gossiped that they are SPRIGHTLY and IMPERTINENT but maybe that’s what helps them survive here.

Past

Célia is the eldest of 3, born to River and Adrianna Chanté in '98. She has 2 younger sisters: Kaia (npc, 22), Leia (npc, 19)

Her upbringing was fairly healthy. Her parents, not without their issues, made sure to raise their kids with love and patience, though Célia was the trial run and grew to be a tad bit spoiled. Her parents had no clue until baby no. 2 came around.

Her father owned a construction company in the next city over where there was more business, and it was a pretty good set up. Business was good enough that her mother could stay home. Financially, they were solid.

When Holbrook became inescapable, everything went downhill—the family continued to grow, but resources were slim. Somehow through it all, Célia didn't grasp the overarching themes of her family's struggle. At least they still had the house.

Having been too young to remember life outside Holbrook, Célia simply grew up believing every hardship was normal. She's held a flippant attitude toward it all since she was young.

Present

Célia lives on her own in a half decent trailer. Although her whole family's stuck in Holbrook with her, she makes a point to keep herself at arm's reach. She sees them on birthdays and holidays, and whenever she happens to run into them in town, but for the most part Célia likes to keep her life private. Since she can't leave Holbrook, this is the only way she feels in control of her life.

She works at Ford Gym as a personal trainer, and when she's not working, she's probably still there getting her own workouts in, or volunteering her services regardless. Anything to keep her mind off being eternally stuck in Holbrook.

Célia is a tough nut to crack. She doesn't let many people close, and those she does are still far from knowing the inner workings of her mind. She's obstinate to anything that could encourage true bonding. She'd rather have someone for the night than for the future.

She knows it's basically impossible, but still Célia has notebooks full of ideas to break free of the town. She'll probably never risk any of them, but she dreams of the day she can finally see the rest of the world for herself. Pictures in books are cool until they're the reason she's seething.

#holbrook.intro #it's finally up 👀

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borderland-ranger · 2 years ago

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- Brynn Vessmer - Ranger Scout, Aged 32 years. Alias: “The Borderland Ranger” Birthplace: Tewbury, The Borderlands Brynn Vessmer was born to Alara and Temmin Vessmer, commoners among the thorp of Tewbury situated equidistant between Ki and the capitol of the Borderlands; Harpsdale. The small community was but one of many in The Borderlands that struggled to exist, stockpiling what they could in the summers, and scraping by every winter in the dark pines that filled the region. The dreary wooded land was known for harsh weather, difficult winters, and creatures akin to those from nightmares rumored to lurk among the wilderness. Like the small village of Elg to the northeast, those in Tewbury also practiced in the Old Ways rather than the conventional religion of Olaran. His life growing up in The Borderlands has left him superstitious at times, and enthralled by folklore.

Brynn was the quintessential middle child, with two older brothers and a younger sister he only recently met. Robb, his eldest brother had joined the Kingsmen at age eighteen, a good sixteen years back, and perished in his first year of service to the crown, in Murnock. He would have been thirty-four this year. Brynn’s surviving older brother, age 33, is Temmin Jr. (“Temm”), who moved away from father’s house and became a lumberer to the south across the river, in the settlement of Ko.

Brynn was raised primarily by his father, learning the trades of the woodsmen that kept Tewbury afloat, such as hunting, tanning hide, and carpentry. At age 17 Brynn became praised by his community and those in Harpdale as he was able to track down a criminal named Darek Finnman, a highwayman who’d been lairing just within the woods outside of Harpdale and had been causing much trouble for wayfarers. This act earned him some coin to line his pockets, and established him as somewhat of a small folk hero for the next few years.

He eventually left the nest, so to speak, eight years ago at age 24 and headed south like his older brother before him to join the ranks of the Kingsmen, determined to make his late brother proud. However, early on into his training, he was one of three selected from his training class to become a Ranger, based on skills all three possessed from their upbringings; a better way they could serve the kingdom. Brynn didn’t fight the decision, and leaned into it, he had already planned on becoming an archer within the Kingsmen, but couldn’t deny that his years of hunting and tracking could be utilized better outside the black and yellow ranks.

For the first four years of his training as a Ranger, he had been stationed in a number of locations, to the Highlands just south of the Grimmock Mountains, a short mission to The Barrens north of the Coldfell River, and an extended time at Blackwell Crossing in Raven. During this time period, he discovered upon a return back home that he had a new baby sister named Mira who had been born shortly after his departure. The other discovery at home was less than pleasing, as his mother had not made it through the previous winter, succumbing to a terrible sickness.

For the last four years, Brynn has been spending more time back in the Borderlands, acting as an agent of law and order of the woods after receiving a Commission from the Crown for the region, leading to him being simply known by many as “The Borderland Ranger.” He is often found at roadside inns near Harpdale when not on an assignment. However, when the winters loom on the horizons, he travels south to the lands near the city of Olaran (unless he is commanded elsewhere). He’s seen his younger sister slowly grow under the tutelage of his father as he’s patrolled the woods, but Tewbury no longer feels like home. He regrets he and his living brother down in Ko not being closer, and having not seen him within the last 8 years, but simply put, they have nothing in common. He’s not sure if being a Ranger is as close enough to following in Robb’s footsteps, but he likes to think if Robb was alive he would be proud. His time away from The Borderlands makes him long for home, but time spent in The Borderlands reminds him it no longer feels like home and drives him away; only for the cycle to repeat.

This year however, as fall approaches, he makes his way across the Highlands, for his first venture westward to the Thornwood, a land known for the kingdom’s largest wineries and woods said to hold remnants of magic from when the Old Ways were once practiced there. The region is known to be currently locked down by Rangers holding the northern border against the Sea Lords and Hearth-Guard forces, allowing none to enter who do not acknowledge the rule of the Council and the Kingdom of Olaran. There, Brynn will join in the efforts to hold the border with the Rangers, alongside a number of Kingsmen.

#Roleplaying #RPG #Story #Writing #Ranger #LARP #Fantasy #Medieval #Landscape #Map #Fell and Fair #Weekend Warrior #Olaran #Rangers of Olaran

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kaypeace21 · 4 years ago

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The ‘parentification’ of Jonathan Byers (psych analysis)

“Parentification is defined as the phenomenon where children take caregiving responsibilities (acting as a parent) for their parents, siblings or other family members, at the expense of their own developmental needs.”

When can parentification occur?

1) After a “Divorce”

“If there is more than one child in the family, usually the eldest, is “chosen” to be parentified .When a father-figure is missing, it may be the eldest son who is forced to take on his father's responsibilities.”

2) When there’s a “parent with a mental illness “

3)“Parental alcoholism or drug addiction.” (lonnie’s place covered in beer cans could allude to this).

4) “siblings with a mental illness’

5) “Death of a sibling or parent” ( This point is kind of cheating - but the fact Jon as a 15 y old had to plan a funeral, for his little brother instead of either one of his parents just illustrates how he always was forced to do adult duties much too young.)

6) “mothers of low socio-economic status, are frequently associated with parentification of their children. “

“given the fact that there are many single parent families, it falls upon children from some of these homes to carry adult responsibilities while their parent is out working. Often, in these situations, the parent is asking or expecting the child to take on adult responsibilities in their absence. They become the parent of the household in the interim between coming home from school and when the parent returns to the household.”

***TO MAKE THINGS VERY CLEAR: we are NOT hating on Joyce, here! “The harm of parentification is usually done not out of malicious intent. However, when a child who is supposed to go through their natural cycles of development and self- evolution, is forced to grow up too quickly, there is a cost.” But, Joyce did what she had to do being a poor single mother - she had to work! Even when Lonnie was around- he had debts. And Joyce apologized to Jon for not being around when they were growing up (working since he was 5)- and she even mentioned working Hollidays . But at the end of s1, we see her celebrating Christmas eve with them (showing she’s trying to have a better work life balance for her kids and prioritize them more). I think Will’s disappearance gave Joyce a wake-up call of sorts about what she values most-her kids.She loves her kids more than anything- and would never intentionally do any harm. She has to work for all of them to survive and stay together. But it did force Jon to be parent to Will in her absence (especially cause Lonnie even when around wasn’t much help).

And in s3 it’s hinted Joyce plans to be there for her kids on Thanksgiving and Christmas- so she is trying to rectify past behaviors. Ok with that out of the way, now we can continue...

Types of Parentification

“Parentification can either be emotional or instrumental, or both.”

“EMOTIONAL PARENTIFICATION : is when the child becomes a source of constant emotional support to their parent or sibling.Emotional parentification often involves a child or adolescent taking on the role and responsibilities of confidant, secret keeper, or emotional healer for family members.”

“ Parentification can also be the the process of role reversal where a child is obliged to act as parent to their own parent. Examples being: Listening to a parent talk about their problems.Serving as a confidante for their parent or providing emotional comfort and support to a parent.”

“In cases of INSTRUMENTAL PARENTIFICATION: children take on practical responsibilities such as:Taking care of siblings or other relatives because a parent is unable to. Assuming housekeeping duties, such as cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping. And Paying bills and attending to other household tasks .”

“ It’s good for kids to have responsibilities such as chores around the house or babysitting for a younger sibling. Responsibilities should increase when a child becomes a teenager to prepare them for being on their own eventually. However, when a young child is responsible for , paying the electricity bill, or raising a younger sibling, that is when problems arise.”

“Imagine a child who is bombarded every day with the responsibilities to tuck in sisters or brothers, or read them bedtime stories; organize drinks or food, wash up dishes, pay bills, or a myriad of housework. When burdened with that many responsibilities, self-care tends to go out the window. If the child continues to attend school, they may be withdrawn, unkempt, and visibly exhausted.”

“The effects are worsened and more destructive for the development of the child, the more the care-giving efforts of the child become a normalized expectation.“

We see this in Joyce berating Jon for not parenting Will, properly (although her being upset was somewhat reasonable). But ,we also see this in how Joyce says Jonathan has “always been good at taking care of himself.” Assuming Jon is ok, when he’s actually not. While Lonnie simply insults Will saying “he was never good at taking care of himself.” The difference being Joyce criticizes Jon for not relying on her more. While Lonnie critiques Will for simply acting like a child and not being self-reliant, like Jonathan. Pretty heavily hinting, Lonnie even when around did very little parenting and expected the kids to take care of themselves. And since Will didn’t ‘take care of himself’ - it probably put the load on Jonathan to parent Will (when Joyce wasn’t around, even when Lonnie was physically there).

Consequences of Parentification

“ It is expected that complicated relationship patterns will develop between siblings. The parentified sibling can often develop a symbiotic, codependent relationship with their siblings.”

“These people are very likely to find themselves in similar relational patterns in adulthood. They believe they must serve, help and rescue everyone in need. As adults, they may find that they have a confused sense of self-identity beyond the helper role. The only way they learned to relate, was through being of service and providing caregiving- so it is extremely possible that they have to be the primary caregivers for their own romantic partners . Since they never learned anything different. “

“ The ‘helper role’ might have dominated their entire being. Their sense of self did not get fully developed before they were needed to care for others, so as a result, they don’t know who they are except when they are doing things for others. “

“Parentified children can become very angry people. Sometimes this adult child may not know why they are angry . They can have explosive anger or passive anger, especially when someone triggers their parental wounds of emotional exploitation.”

“Parentified children inevitably develop a distorted image of what love is supposed to be like, thereby growing up to be quite distrustful of interpersonal relationships overall.Complicated attachment patterns emerge as a result. An avoidant attachment style is not unlikely. In the absence of a nurturing provider of safety and care, the parentified child may have learned to utterly depend on themselves alone- thereby avoiding close bonds and intimacy in adult life.intimacy is both craved for and avoided, both a longing and a great threat. Underneath this facade, they are quite lonely.”

This is similar to Jonathan not having friends, ‘not liking most people’, having ‘trust issues’ caused by Lonnie (that caused distrust of Bob, a father-figure) and simply being afraid to talk to people in general. Or joyce calling out Jonathan saying “you act like you’re all alone in this world. But your not.”

‘They also tend to blame themselves for everything that goes wrong, and constantly try to fix things that cannot be fixed.’

“The child may appear highly capable to tend for themselves and others, very mature for their age, resilient and even wise beyond their years- but they lack the safe haven of a secure attachment figure that is vital for the development of emotional regulation.”

A parentified teenager or younger child may exhibit the following symptoms:

-”Anxiety”

Like... this hurt my soul! His face dropped the second Nancy left the room.He probably has anxiety but looks up to Joyce for trying to still be a good mom and keep it together. Why he said “WE’LL be okay” cause his mom is “tough”. He tries to lead by her example. But unlike Joyce, Jon probably always had to keep it together- even if struggling with similar anxiety issues as Joyce. Because he knew they both couldn’t act that way and “shut down” (for Will’s sake). He always had to put on a fake ‘grown-up’ front and keep the family together and help support Joyce and Will emotionally and finacially . And someone (unintentionally) saying the reason he’s like his mom is not because of her positive traits but because of her mental illness- must have HURT! Especially cause he’s probably already struggling with anxiety- and maybe even fears acknowledging it. Because he’s supposed to have it ‘all together.’ “The identity of parentified children actually depends on their ability to suppress their needs. Since it is likely that their family already had too many problems to cope with, and so they learned to be quiet, voiceless and without demands. In order to be a ‘proper helper’ .“

And it probably doesn’t help he’s afraid it could escalate into something worse. Because in s1 they mentioned Joyce’s aunt having hallucinations. And jonathan even says to hopper “she used to have anxiety problems. I’m worried it could be ... I don’t know.” So yeah , Nancy saying him and Joyce have the same anxiety problems probably terrified him.

-”Depression”

-”Inability to trust others (we covered that) and or social isolation.”

-”Compulsively overworking in order to fulfill responsibilities at school and at home.”

-”Feelings of guilt and shame.”

��Fortunately, there are many healing processes and routes to wholeness and recovery for a young adult or adult who has been parentified as a child.Acknowledgment of your past is the first step to healing and recovery (via therapy or other means). You have to accept the truth of your story. Because, if you continue to live in denial, your mental energy will be spent in suppressing the pain that was there, rather than healing what needs to be healed. Being highly self-reliant was your only option in your household , but it may be a strategy that no longer works for you. It keeps you in isolation and unable to connect with others. Therefore, challenging yourself to connect with others authentically would also be considered one of the most potent ways to heal. The thoughts, feelings, impressions, and emotions buried within are waiting to be heard, once and for all. “

Alright, thanks for listening I hope you enjoyed. I really wanted to do a psych analysis strictly based on what the show presents. Rather than inclusion of the s4 movies. I did mention how those movies did allude to Jonathan’s parentification, here (if interested though). I also didn’t go into the hints in the narrative of Lonnie possibly being s****lly abusive to Jonathan cause it’s a bit more speculative ( I did talk about it in my DID psych analyses pt 1 & pt 2 though). Only mentioning it here, at the end, since one of the causes of parentification is also a parent s****lly ab*sing their kids (quite literally stripping their kids of their entire childhood in every way imaginable- and frankly the worst way possible). Regardless,I think most people neglect Jonathan as a character- and the s4 movies hint we’ll finally get more focus on him in the upcoming seasons. So I wanted to dedicate a post to some of Jonathan’s issues that may get more attention in later seasons.

#jonathan byers #will byers #joyce byers #stranger things

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celestialnocturnes · 3 years ago

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a message to my youth (reply 1988 thought dump)

warning: this isn't meant to be a coherent review or commentary on reply 1988. i literally just finished the kdrama a few moments ago and i want to preserve what i'm feeling through this entry. this is only a cathartic attempt to show how the kdrama had impacted me in so many ways. also, spoilers!

to the things that are already gone. to a time that has already passed, i want to say a belated farewell. goodbye, my youth.

watching a kdrama wasn't in my top priorities this year, but things that used to be a part of you would demand to be revisited sometimes. i'm glad that i did, and i'm thankful that it was reply 1988.

taking a nostalgic look at the year 1988, this kdrama tells about the story of five families in a humble block in ssangmun, seoul. for someone born 12 years after the setting, the plot is something strange, a history lesson in the lens of simple households. for someone in the limbo between careless youth and adulting, and someone born in an asian family, this kdrama will feel like home.

culturally speaking, reply 1988 was a beautiful exposition of how asian households run. what got me hooked to continue the drama was the endless saga of giving dishes to neighbors in the first episode. funnily enough, all families ended up having a feast of each house's dinner on their tables.

from a mouthwatering display of korean side dishes, to the trends of 1988 korea (back when jyp himself was a hit lolz jk), to the endless neighborhood gossips, to the flawed and conservative views on politics, and to the tight-knitted family dynamics — one would find this hilarious and relatable, informative even.

reply 1988 was a lot of things, but its casts hold a special place in my heart. the gang had so much love between them and it was so beautiful to see a pure friendship evolve through the years. i wish i could still have loud dinners and drunken nights with my friends when we get into our careers. I would love that.

sung deok sun, the optimistic figure in the group, was a ray of sunshine to me even as a viewer. i love deok sun because her spirits were never faltered by her failures and her status in life. my personality is sooo far from deok sun's, but she was relatable to me when she said she didn't know what to do in her life. she doesn't have a dream, i have a lot of them. even so, the uncertainty is there. i guess we all figure things out in the end. deok sun became a flight crew and was able to earn money for the family. i can't wait to figure out my own path, too.

dong ryong, being deoksun's self-proclaimed soulmate faced the same journey. despite not getting into a prestigious university, it's amazing how he was able to establish his own restaurant and even expand branches! makes you really think that not everything in life can be solved by good grades. honestly, i wish i have his street smarts and wisdom. what a powerful person i would be, then.

jung hwan was the man of few words in the group. he showed his affections not through words, but through his actions (and teases for deok sun). his love language would definitely be acts of service! i love jung hwan. he was a good son, brother, and friend. i aspire to have the kindness that he has. but oh dear heavens i would kill just to see how his love life would unfold had he faced the courage to confess to deok sun. i mean, come on! just be straightforward! they would honestly make a good pair, the ray of sunshine girl and the cold guy.

choi taek, the professional go-gamer, was the baby of the group. like jung hwan, he was a man of few words, except that taek was actually shy. his growth through the series was perhaps the most apparent. his innocent image was eventually changed by the way he picked up curse words from the gang, to his smoking, and to his openness of affection for his family and later on, deok sun. also, his character made me fall in love with park bo gum and his smile!

before i go to the next two characters that i associate myself with, i would also like to comment on the household parents of the block. the fathers here have different personalities, but their identities as providers of the house defined the way they act. they keep a tough act and may be distant to their children, but the love is there even though they don't really know much about the household.

and the mothers, oh dear, the mothers. my mom is not a working entity, but i've seen her struggle through the years. i think her burdens are even heavier than that of my dad's. the way this kdrama portrayed the stories of the mothers touched my heart so much that i couldn't stop my tears. never underestimate a woman's strength, i tell you.

from these figures, i learned so much about adulting and marriage. our parents miss their parents, too. our parents would always worry about us, no matter how old we are. our parents are trying to keep everything together, so they put up a tough front. our parents' wishes are devoted to their children. our parents just want the best life for us. not only us are growing old, but our parents, too. our parents want our attention, too. our parents do not have the perfect marriage, but they would do anything for their children. our parents love us deeply.

okay, here goes my reflection in the kdrama — sun woo and sung bora. initially, i was planning to write an entry only about bora, but i realized that i am in many ways alike to sun woo as well. both characters are the eldest children of the family and they face a lot of pressure in their respective families. both characters sacrificed their dreams because they are limited to what their families can afford. sung bora took math education despite her dreams as a prosecutor. sun woo took medicine because that was what his mom wanted. as for me, i chose a course that would promise a stable salary. i dreamed to work in the field of science or writing, but both paths have unstable pays in this country. i do not come from a well-off family, so i have to set my dreams aside.

bora and i do not share the same personality. hers was aggressive and frank, mine was the opposite. even so, i found a piece of my soul in her character because she was steadfast in her goals and was very understanding of her family's situation. she was the cream of the crop in the siblings, the only one who became a student in the premier university, the talk of the neighborhood. she had strong political stances that made her own parents almost disown her, but she was never sorry for it. when it comes to little things, bora had so much privacy over her things that she would get mad at the slightest unauthorized touch of it. oh dear, if that wasn't me.

sun woo, on the other hand, was nearing my male counterpart. he cares so much about his mom and his sister that he hated the thought of the former working. he was the model student, the one with the straight a's, and the one who acts professionally even with the internal turmoil of emotions. he never opposed his mother's wishes and he loved his sister dearly. he would always hold his feelings in, but gets weak in the arms of a loved one. based on his upbringing and firm values, you would also see how he respects women. i love it.

these two never worked out at first because they prioritized their dreams above romance, but i'm so, so happy that they got together in the end.

reply 1988 was perhaps one of the best slice of life shows that i've ever seen. i wish i had watched this when i was younger, because it would teach you so much about family, love, dreams, friendship, and growing up. the pacing would feel kind of slow because of its movie-length episodes, but i swear it was worth it.

to the youth that i was, thank you for building the youth that i am.

to the youth that i am, enjoy the uncertainty and strive to be a better version of yourself.

to the youth that will be, may you never lose the spark inside your heart no matter how old you are.

i will hear your reply in time.

most ardently,

grace

#reply 1988 #journal entries #text #kdrama #korean #slice of life #deok sun #jung hwan #sun woo #dong ryong #sung bora #choi taek

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evening-starlight · 3 years ago

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Daddy’s Best Friend

I just finished Chances yesterday and I already have another Tom story posted. I have a serious problem send help. Or Tom Hiddleston, he would work too

When Amaris Clarke comes home after a year of studying abroad in Paris, Tom is struggling to keep his feelings in check for his best friend’s daughter.

Word Count: 1346

Amaris scans the crowd surrounding her at the airport, searching for one of three people: Her father, his best friend, or their personal driver. She pushes through the sea of paparazzi and finds a man wearing a ridiculous hat that looks like somebody's three-year-old painted on it scanning the arrival gate.

She skips over to him, gaining his attention. Tom's eyes widen at the woman standing before him. When Amaris left for her year abroad, she was an awkward child. At least in his mind, she was. "Bonjour, Tommy," She greets before flicking the brim of the hat. "I see you kept the hat all these years." He laughs and throws an arm around her shoulders to shelter her from the never-ending group of press.

"Of course I did. My favorite niece made it for me." Amaris will never admit it, but Tom calling her his niece sends a sharp pain through her heart. After a year apart, she hoped he'd see her differently, see her as the woman she was. But instead, he saw her as a child. "Your father is extremely sorry he couldn't come to pick you up. He got called into a last-minute meeting." Tom apologizes on her dad's behalf.

"Don't worry about it; I'm used to it." Amaris shrugs as Tom lead her into the passenger seat of his black Jaguar. Her dad was a great dad. He went to everything important to her growing up, like dance recitals and art shows. Amaris coming home from a trip wasn't important, comparably. Tom lifts her two green suitcases into the back seat as Amaris sits on her phone in the front seat.

"I'm going to drop you off at home, if that's alright?" Tom asks as he gets in and starts the car.

"That's fine," She replies, not breaking contact with her phone, catching up on any gossip she missed on her seven-hour flight. They sit in silence while Tom navigates out of the airport parking lot. You would think he'd know these lanes like the back of his hand, the many times he's flown, but he continues to swear they change the layout every time.

"How was Paris?" Tom asks as they finally enter the highway. Amaris puts her phone down in her lap, freeing her hands to talk animatedly.

"Paris," She starts, accompanied by a vague french accent. "Was magnifique." And thus began the long schpeel about her times in Paris. Amaris told Tom about her travels around France, to meeting a french boy name Armel in her favorite local cafe, who she then dated and lived with during the last six months of her stay in Paris.

Tom doesn't show it, but his heart broke a small crack when he heard she had a boyfriend. "We broke up before I left, though. I couldn't do long distance. Although, I would love to go back to Paris." Amaris confirms. "I felt so at home there the minute I stepped off the airplane." She finishes.

"It sounds like you had a great year, Mari." Amari nods and looks out the window as the mansions start to pass. Dread starts to fill her body. In Paris, she could be authentically her. She didn't have to put on a face for the public as much as she had to here in New York. The real reason she broke up with Armel was that she didn't want him to see this side of her life. He saw the tiniest sliver of her life, and she couldn't bear the fact he didn't know who she really was.

Her family's house rolls into view decked out in green and pink decorations and a giant banner welcoming her home. Amaris's younger siblings wait outside with excited looks on their faces. Tom barely has the car in park before Amaris jumps out of the car to hug her siblings.

"I've missed you guys so much. You have no idea." She mumbles as her cheeks get crushed between the other two. She steps back and takes them in. "You've gotten so tall, Juno. Who the hell gave you the right?" Amaris remarks as she sees her youngest sibling standing a good six inches taller than her 5'6". She then turns to her sister. "And you," She gushes, looking over how vibrant and put together she looks. "When did Dad let you grow up?"

"I didn't ask permission," She jokes. "How was Paris since I left?" Danica asks, having visited her oldest sister two months into Amaris moving there. Juno went after, six months into Amaris's trip.

Tom watches the siblings talk and get along as he unpacks Amaris's bags for her. He had to admit, at least to himself, that she looked good. She grew up well in Paris. Amaris dressed confidently and looked the part. Tom was surprised no one else could see the golden glow she had surrounding her.

Amaris looks over her shoulder at Tom with a bright white smile as if feeling him staring at her. He gives a small wave and picks up her bags for her. She offers to help, but Tom waves her off, telling her to catch up with her siblings.

They all follow Tom inside, deciding to sit on the comfortable couches in the lounge instead of standing in the driveway. Tom joins them after dropping the bags in the hallway, sitting next to Amaris on purpose.

He will admit to everyone that he's missed her dearly. It was like a part of him was missing this last year. She was the most important girl in his life, and he'd go to jail for her. He's said as much during drunken confessions. But this new feeling caught him off guard. He wasn't supposed to feel the never-ending need to touch her.

The feeling dies down as he lays an arm across Amaris's back but returns when she leans into him. This wasn't anything new, though. Amaris and Tom would cuddle and sit together since she was a child. There was nothing else behind it; he was just her safe place after her mother passed away.

Though, the cuddling and touching died down when Amaris started going through puberty and liking boys. But Tom was always there as her wall when she needed to cry. Tom would do nothing wrong with those kids. He saw them as his own some days and other days as his siblings. He wouldn't do anything to lose the trust of his best friend, their father. But Amaris could threaten all of that.

As if called by Tom's thoughts, William walks through the front door, arms open and ready to welcome his eldest child home. "Mars?" He calls out. Amaris scrambles off the couch and runs to her father.

"Daddy," She squeals, launching into his waiting arms. "I've missed you so much."

William hugs her tighter, "I've missed you more, Owl. You have to tell me everything." Amaris gasps and lets go of her dad, remembering she has her bag full of gifts for the gang.

"I brought gifts; go sit." She orders, going to find which bag she put them in. Tom says quick goodbyes to the family while he makes his way to the door. "Where the hell do you think you're going, Hiddleston?" Amaris asks, hands-on-hips while she blocks Tom's path. She heard his goodbyes and raced to intercept him.

"I was going to leave you and your family to enjoy alone time," He offers, eyes falling to the low-cut blouse she wore. Was she always wearing the shirt? Tom adjusts the collar of his shirt as his face gets hot. This was worse than forbidden.

"Are you trying to tell me you're not family, Tom?" The way his voice falls from her lips could bring any man to his knees. Like fresh honey straight from the beehive and sweeter than sugar cane. He needs to snap out of these thoughts. Instead, Tom smiles and holds his hands up. "Exactly, go sit. I have things for you too." Amaris turns on her heel, and Tom watches her leave, ass swaying in those perfectly fit jeans.

Tom was utterly screwed if he didn't get over this weird crush he developed in the last hour soon.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years ago

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A Caring Friend

Caesar Zeppeli x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Caesar with a caring mom friend who helps him and his siblings get enough food. Caesar needs hugs. So do his siblings.

I’m sorry this took so long. Thank you for your patience.

Please enjoy.

[Name] stood by the table, counting the portions of food that she had laid out and marking them down. Working as a baker did hold benefits of both money income and doing what she often enjoyed doing most. Baking was in her blood, just like her mother and her grandmother. The [Surname] family were known for their amazing baking skills and produce. Something that [Name] was proud of.

After marking down everything she had laid out on the table, a variety of different cakes, bakes and all manner of things, she packed them up neatly and put them in a bag before heading outside. The day had already faded, leaving behind the cold touch of the night sky. Nights in Italy could always be a tiny bit nippy, especially in the Winter seasons. But it was still a beautiful place, a place that will always be home to [Name].

The [Hair colour] woman headed down the street after locking up the bakery, taking another route instead of her usual path way home. Her family were not often ones who appreciated selling off their goods for nothing but [Name] could not care less at this moment. A few missing ingredients would not hurt their wealthy business. Plus, she saw this as more of “a favour for a friend” rather than business.

The street lights faded, growing dimmer and dimmer as she walked further down the familiar alley. Cautious still flickered and whispered around in her head, telling her to be careful of where she wandered despite having been here multiple times before. Slowly peaking around corners before she turned had often helped her many times before. Thankfully, she did not have to travel too far before reaching a familiar building.

Her knuckles knocked against the door and she waited patiently for an answer. The small peak hole opened for a moment, a pair of emerald green eyes could be seen before it closed and the sound of locks being undone could be heard. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a familiar face.

“Hello [Name]. It’s nice to see you.” Caesar spoke, earning a smile from [Name]. The Zeppeli family had run into such misfortune years ago when their father just left without a word, leaving the children to fend for themselves. Caesar, the eldest of them, took it upon himself to try and provide for his siblings. A hard choice indeed with the weight of responsibilities dropped down on his shoulders with enough force to break his back but he refused to let it. He did not care what crime he was to commit, he would ensure his siblings were safe and healthy, while finding a release for all of the anger and rage that his bastard of a father had left for abandoning them.

[Name] could not allow him and his siblings to struggle like that.

Smiling, she entered the house and wiped her shoes on the doormat before entering properly, “Thank you, Caesar.” she spoke before setting the backpack down and starting to pull out the baked goods she had. Much to the delight of the younger siblings, who swarmed down to try and be the first to grab their favourite. It was always a good thing she baked more. She chuckled softly at the sight of these hardened thugs act like the children they once were, fighting over sweet treats.

“Marco, stop pulling your sister’s hair!” Caesar’s scolding pulled [Name] from her thoughts, the youngest boy huffed a bit before letting go of his sister’s hair and continuing to eat his pastry. She turned towards Caesar, pulling out a small handful of Caesar’s favourite cakes.

“Here you go, Caesar. I was able to bake these for you.” The blonde haired teenager hummed lightly, his expression remaining fixed with his light scowl that was always carved into his features, something that was part of him now, and had been for a while. [Name] didn’t blame him, how could she?

“Grazie.” Taking one of the small cakes from her, he took a few bites of it, his hunger clear but he wanted to savour the taste and flavour.

“Are any of your siblings feeling ill? I can try and get some medicine for you if you want.” She suggested, only for him to shake his head, finishing the cake and reaching for another.

“No, we are alright.” Nodding, she accepted his answer, knowing that he wasn’t one for being questioned. [Name] moved towards the other siblings, smiling and chatting to them. Caesar remained to the side, emerald green eyes watching them. His siblings all looked so happy when she was around, no they didn’t look it, they were happy. She was the reason they had food each day, or at least most days, she wanted to make sure they were all healthy. [Name] was the reason they had hope that the days would get better, that the light would shine again for them.

Perhaps she was also the reason why he also believed such things?

#caesar #caesar zeppeli #jojo bizarre adventure #caesar x reader #caesar zeppeli x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #jojo battle tendency #battle tendency x reader #battle tendency #jojo part 2

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okay-victoria · 3 years ago

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Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

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ilegnangeli · 3 years ago

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Random June Thought #1

I think I may have to be the most sentimental person I know. Or maybe not sentimental but mental. Just kidding. So I’ve shared that whenever I go back home, I get pretty sentimental. And it’s really true.

Maybe because I get to see my parents. My aging parents. And I get reminded of how fast and finite life is.

I have so many things planned for them but I feel like I’m running out of time. Whenever people ask me what I want to have in the future, I don’t answer them with having a family of my own but instead I want to see my family members safe and healthy. I want to spend a longer time with them. Never mind getting married or having a family of my own. Just seeing my family members’ good health and seeing them living a good life will be more than enough for me.

The thing is I almost always get to do heart to heart talks with my family when I meet with them. I get to speak with my father and his plans for the future. I get to chat with my mother about where she wants to go and what she wants to do. I get pretty sentimental because I love these people. I love my parents so much. And I want to honor them as much as I can, spoil them as much as I can. But I’m so short on time. I only get to visit them once a month and it pains me that I need to say goodbye ever so often.

I’m not a kid anymore but I still am a kid in my parents’ eyes. I love that my parents are so loving and unconditional when it comes to providing love, care, and attention to us—their children and of course, grandchildren. I love that I grew up with the parents I have now. I’m grateful that I get to experience life with them as my parents. I love that I have a generous father and a loving mother. Their combination is perfect. So thank You, God. Thank you for giving me these parents. I am eternally grateful.

Today’s Father’s Day. It's funny because since the ‘rents, me, and my younger sister are vaccinated, we get to celebrate together. With my aunt and cousins, too. And little Batuti who had to come along because there will be no one to look after him in our condo. Lmao

Anyway, today was a really good day. An emotional one, too. On the way home, as my cousin drove us back to the Metro, my aunt and I had this conversation about the future. She asked me about my plans. She asked me about my plans for the house where my parents are living. She asked me about the future—my future. I told her I don’t think about getting married. Because I feel like in the short span of time remaining with my parents, I just want to spoil them. I want to give them the life they deserve. I just want to provide for them. Because no one else will do that for them. All my older siblings are married, busy with their lives, and busy their own families.

Plus, I’m afraid of becoming a parent myself. I don’t know if I could be as loving or as caring as Mama Duay. I don’t know of I could ever be as hardworking and generous as Papa Henry. I don’t know if I can call myself a mother, a parent in the future. I’m not sure if I want my future children to grow up in this specific environment. I don’t know how I will be able to raise strong, independent, and caring children. I’m so afraid for them to experience pain and suffering here. I’m not sure if I could take it—just watching them grow up while struggling. I don’t know. I don’t want them to feel the same things I’ve felt—I'm feeling—here. I’m not sure they deserve this kind of life. It’s so hard to live here. My God, just thinking about this makes me tear up.

Life is hard. And I don’t want to be selfish. I don’t want to raise children because I expect them to give something in return for the life I’ve provided for them. I don’t want that.

But then I think about my parents. What they want for me. I feel like sometimes, when I talk about my crush during meals, my dad gets pretty silent and a little jealous because I seriously sound like I want to settle down. Lmao I feel like my mom always says that my crush is gay because she feels that—at the same time—she doesn’t want to give me away. (Dear crush, if you only knew how much I have thought about our future together lol. Thank God, you’ll never know though.)

What’s funny is that sometimes I feel like my parents WANT me to settle down with someone. So that they could be at peace. Damn, this is going to make me cry so hard. I don’t want to cry, I’ve been crying over the weekend. My heart can’t take it anymore lmao. If the world gave me money for every tear I dropped or every ounce of tear that came down my face, I’d be swimming in a pool of money. Dammit. But life, life is much harder. And I can only write about life because that’s how I roll. So in case you’re reading this in the future, SELF. I hope you’re in a much better place. I’m praying for the future of us. This is me from the past saying hello.

On our drive home, I spoke with my aunt about how I was planning to travel with my parents before the pandemic. I wanted to bring my parents abroad. I wanted to bring them to the places I’ve been and experience those places with them. I still want that. I will do that. Please COVID-19, go away.

I also told my aunt that I wanted to bring my dad back to Ilocos. He loves that place. My parents are both from Visayas. Papa is Waray, Mama is Bisaya. How they ended up together? That’s a story for another time. But my dad was stationed in Ilocos for some time, way before I came into their life, and they lived there for some time with two of my ugly ass brothers. Sorry I always call my siblings ugly asses—it’s my endearment. While my elder sister and eldest brother were in Samar. Parents married early, both were 18 at the time of marriage. But despite that they were able to raise their children. I feel like writing about their life—maybe one day I could write about our lives. Soon? Lol anywho, Papa loves Ilocos and I want to bring him back there. With the fam. If God will give me enough time with my parents, I hope to be able to bring them abroad, too. At least once.

I wish I could win the lottery. So that I could do all these things faster. Buy that house I’ve always wanted to have in Presello lmao. Give the life I want to give to my parents and my younger sister. Spoil my nephews and niece to oblivion. And prolly purchase a guy who would love to settle with me. I’m just kidding. I always joke about becoming rich and just buying men. But that also scares the shit outta me. Imagine, what if he’s a serial killer? And he only marries me because he wants my money? Hmm, those are some thoughts to ponder. So much for watching true crime shit on YouTube.

So I’m going back to my original plans. Get those education units. Get that teaching license. If God permits me, get that graduate degree. Leave the country. Never look back. LMAAAAOOOO, girl. Hopefully these aren’t wishful thinking. Because istg, I want a better life for my family. If it means I’ll never get married, then so be it. HAHAHAHA.

Anyway, happy father’s day to all you dads out there. I hope you had a great celebration with your families. I had a great one today. And I loved every moment of it. I wish I could celebrate more with my family. I miss us eating out together. We’re big bunch, you see. And I get a little bit too sentimental when I get reminded of the past because right now, in this pandemic, we can’t do that. But thank God for technology, right? We get to video chat our loved ones and celebrate with them even when they’re far away. But then again, these social media networking sites aren’t meant to substitute for real-time, face to face conversations. They’re just here for interim purposes (this line reminds me of my journalism paper back in uni yo!).

I have so many things I want to share, so many things have happened today. Actually over the weekend and I want to write about it. But let’s just leave this post here. Let’s park this topic. Oh man, my brain wants to write more but I don’t want to end this on a sad note.

Mondays are the worst. I want to face tomorrow with a smile. I want to work harder, become better, and then leave with a light heart. My God, I pray for this anxious heart of mine to please calm tf down. Hahaha.

Cheer up, self. Things will get better.

P.S. I am addicted to TWICE's Alcohol Free. This song is my last song syndrome.

#June 20th #Father's Day 2021 #random thoughts #2021 #About God's Chaser

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foilfreak · 4 years ago

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Headcannons for my favorite One Punch Man rarepair: Golden Ball x Spring Mustachio

Both joined the Hero Association around the same time and knew of each other in passing, due to living in the same city, but didn’t officially meet until about 8 months in, and as a result of that, these two did NOT like each other at all during those first 8 months. Spring Mustachio thought Golden Ball was just another crass and reckless delinquent using heroism as a legal outlet for violence, and Golden Ball thought Spring Mustachio was an entitled rich boy who was probably paying his way up the hero ranks. When the two heroes were finally forced to formally introduce themselves to one another at the first annual Hero Association banquet, or some other equivalently pointless publicity stunt the Associacion probably put on at some point or another, they were shocked to find just how wrong their initial judgments of one another actually were.

Despite Golden Ball’s appearance, what with the bleach-blonde hair, slightly baggy clothes, tall, muscular frame, and the lollipops that Spring Mustachio correctly guesses are a substitute for cigarettes, Golden Ball is actually incredibly intelligent, having earned a master’s degree in chemical engineering (this particular headcanon is inspired by @batneko) from a highly prestigious university (currently considering going back for his PhD if he can save up the money), and all of his signature weapons are his own personal inventions. Likewise, Spring Mustachio, despite having the appearance and persona of someone who grew up having everything handed to him on a silver platter, had long ago rejected the escalator to success his parents had offered him in the form of taking over as head of their family business, in favor of going out on his own to explore the world and everything it had to offer, mastering the art of swordsmanship and opening his own restaurant (where even after hiring a decent sized staff, he still took up menial tasks such as washing dishes and serving guests) along the way.

After getting to know each other at that first meeting, the two heroes became surprisingly fast friends, their personalities mixing rather well together on top of having many shared interested, and even began hanging out outside of their hero duties, where they already spent a considerable amount of time together considering how frequently the Association paired them together for missions. Most of their time outside of work was spent at Spring Mustachio’s restaurant, engaging in casual, slightly teasing conversation over onion rings and a couple rounds of beer after a long day of hero work. Later on into their friendship however, it became much more common for Golden Ball to also come into the restaurant during the day to bother the older man during his shift, not that Spring Mustachio minded the company one bit, especially if it meant having a couple of extra hands available to dry the dishes he’d just washed. It eventually got to the point where it was pretty much common knowledge throughout the city that if Golden Ball wasn’t out on a patrol or sent away on a mission for the Association, the first place you ought to check if you’re looking for him would be Spring Mustachio’s. Likewise if it’s Spring Mustachio you’re looking for and the restaurant is a no-go, try your hand at getting ahold of Golden Ball, cuz wherever he is, chances are that Spring Mustachio is standing right next to him. Its a wonder how the whole city doesn’t start assuming the two are dating when they begin referring to each other as ‘Gold’ and ‘Spring’, during hero work, and exclusively by their first names when off the clock.

The two heroes remain nothing more than close friends for full year after their first meeting, and while both had developed more-than-friendly feelings for one another over that time, neither were planning on doing anything about it, not wanting unrequited feelings to potentially ruin the incredible friendship they’d formed, among the other internal struggles that come with accepting that you’re attracted to other men in a society that, although no longer criminalizes homosexuality, definitely still doesn’t view it in a positive light by any means. Spring Mustachio has been in the closet his whole life and plans to keep it that way to avoid the potential social backlash. Golden Ball on the other hand didn’t realize he was bisexual until grad school and has since only managed to work up the courage to come out to his (thankfully incredibly supportive) family and closest childhood friends. Needless to say neither of them were in the headspace to even think about confessing, especially when they had so much to lose should it not go well, and both heroes were content to simply let their feelings die out over time if it meant that their friendship would remain intact.

Things change however, when Golden Ball’s place gets totally trashed in a monster attack, and the younger man finds himself staying with Spring Mustachio at his house until it can be repaired. Now not only do both men have to deal with their budding feelings for one another, but they also have to deal with their budding feelings for one another while also figuring out how to coexist in the same space, made even more interesting by the fact that Golden Ball has two pitbulls, Gizmo and Tonka, and Spring Mustachio isn’t the biggest fan of dogs (spoiler: Spring Mustachio falls in love with the sweet little puppers and spoils them absolutely rotten, much to Golden Ball’s amusement). Over the couple of months it takes for Golden Ball’s apartment to be fixed the men learn several things about each other that never would have come to light in any other context, including, but not limited to: Spring Mustachio’s extensive collection of alcohol bottles from all the drink’s he’s tried over the years (and of course all the stories that come with those bottles), Golden Ball’s horrific nicotine addiction being the result of an undiagnosed anxiety disorder that got BAD toward the end of undergrad and was forced to come to an end when he had a heart attack at 25, the tumultuous relationship Spring Mustachio has had with his family (specifically his parents) since breaking away from the plan they had created for him, the fact that Golden Ball is easily the biggest nerd that Spring Mustachio has ever met (and probably the smartest too), the brief run Spring Mustachio had as a competitive fencer in his early 30s that Golden Ball thinks he should get back into, the adorable way Golden Ball talks to his dogs when he thinks no one is listening, and so much more.

These things of course only cause their feelings to worsen and the situation just continues to spiral out of control from there. Im torn over whether I want them to actually get together in like a nice, mature way, like they ultimately end up talking abou their feelings to just get them off their chests, you know like adults, or if i want them to confess after getting into a huge fight, like maybe one of them got really hurt and some things they didnt actually mean were said and so they didn’t talk for a bit but then they end up tracking each other down and confessing after the tension finally snaps or something like that. I’ll leave that up for you all to decide but what i will say is that they get together just as Golden Ball’s apartment is finished being rebuilt, but with his lease being up at the end of the month and having already settled rather comfortably at Spring Mustachio’s place, he decides not to renew the lease and just stay where he is, much to Spring Mustachio’s delight.

As for their families, Spring Mustachio tells only his older sister and younger brother, who are confused, but ultimately supportive and happy that their brother found someone he truly loved and wanted to be with. His parents end up finding out somehow and while they aren’t exactly thrilled about it when they first learn that their eldest son is dating another man nearly 20 years his junior, they are, to their credit, polite and avoid making any inappropriate comments on the rare occasions he and Golden Ball do agree to visit the estate for dinner. Golden Ball initially only tells his parents, but things rarely stay secret for very long in his family, and not even a week goes by before his grandparents are calling asking if he’ll be bringing his new boyfriend to the cookout at the end of the month. Spring Mustachio has a fantastic time meeting the plethora of grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and close family friends that make up Golden Ball’s wonderfully lively family, though he does end up getting thrown into the pool by Golden Ball’s older brothers at some point, as is custom treatment for “new members” of the family. He doesn’t seem to mind all that much, especially when Golden Ball’s mother finally breaks out the baby pictures and he gets to coo over how adorably plump his boyfriend was as an infant, much to said boyfriend’s growing embarrassment.

For professionalism’s sake they decide to keep the relationship on the dl and though the two are rarely seen apart, they save the more intimate moments and actions for behind closed doors. No need to give the press an excuse to start shit.

Let me know what you think of my headcanons and what your headcanons are for this rarepair if you have any!!!

#one punch man #opm #golden ball opm #golden ball one punch man #golden ball #spring mustachio opm #spring mustachio one punch man #spring mustachio #mine #headcanons #golden ball x spring mustachio #golden mustache #ship

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magneticmage · 3 years ago

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A Web of Betrayal

This is an excerpt from yet another fic I will probably never write. I have a lot of those. Anyways, enjoy!

Cw for sexism, plans of poisoning and Canon death of named characters. Also a discussion of how Orzammar's sex-based system is stupid and artifical binaries do not work in real life because nonbinary and transpeople exist. And enforcement of such a binary system hurts people who do not fit within its demands.

Valda Aeducan was lucky.

She was a princess in Orzammar. Daughter of the King and his noble Queen. Noble Caste and wealthy. Desirable and beautiful.

And yet she felt strangled in unseen webs at times for it.

She had seen her father's favoritism from a long time ago. He favored his sons, particularly his eldest two. It was not that surprising in retrospect, she supposed. Bhelen had been born from a casteless concubine-which had further soured her parents' then already-strained relationship. She had been born a woman, and thus should have inherited her mother's noble caste, not her father's royal one. But her mother had convinced the King to break from tradition for her daughter's benefit. Perhaps with the potential a future alliance of marriage could bring him.

The whole caste system was sexist, really. She had recalled the few times her cousin, Firenze, had broken down in her arms sobbing because they had not fit between their mother's noble caste and their father's casteless one since they did not wish to be male or female. Their brother, Rethan, had been assigned their mother's caste as a noble and he lived in fear for the discovery of his true self and being forced down amongst the casteless, to live in squalor and disease and refuse until he died. Both had gone off into the Deep Roads one day and neither returned. Rumors said that Rethan had escaped to the surface and Firenze had joined the Legion. But they were only rumors.

The caste system was killing them, bit by bit.

Even when one's gender did not affect things, one's caste certainly did. She was a noblewoman and was expected to be chaste and honorable. She had more bodies hidden under her stone caverns to be fed to her spiders and spilled more dwarven blood than quite a few members of the Warrior caste. She had been denied male lovers unless her father had approved of the match. Gorim was proof of that.

It rankled her. Coated her veins in venom and she was not surprised to find her growing disdain was matched with an increasing skill in actual poison and its antidotes.

She saw how Bhelen held the same doubts and frustrations. He was chided and ignored by their father, only gaining attention when he failed drastically. While she was praised for her own combat skills, it was because it was rare and often discouraged for women to become warriors due to the looming threat of broodmothers. Or so her father had explained when she had picked up her brother's sword to practice. She had batted her lashes and played on her father's soft spot as his only daughter and the family's precious jewel, to be safeguarded in Proving fights and not in true Deep Roads expeditions, when she was allowed to fight at all. She had been forced to maintain that image for years. She was as harmless as a nug as far as many nobles were concerned when really all she had been doing was weaving webs of influence and manipulating court intrigue to her family's benefit.

It had only been a matter of time before she had learned of Bhelen's ambitions. He had begun to be more reserved at family meals. But Trian was busy being groomed for heirdom and Barran-her own twin- was focused on both supporting their brother and learning the ways of war for the day he became Commander of Orzammar's armies. Whatever was left of them. No one else noticed the growing frown in their younger brother's expression. The faint hint of mockery in each laugh. The deep exhale of relief the moment he had a moment away from his brothers' shadows.

But she did.

And so she waited.

She did not strike when he took that lovely redhead as his lover. Trian had scoffed and demanded she be kept to her rooms like the dirty casteless woman she was. Barran had scowled and offered to find him a better match when he had time. Bhelen did not listen. Valda did not need to see the tender looks and small touches they hid before each parting to know how deep the affection ran. She even helped the woman by sending her gifts of food and small trinkets in passing over the years-always discreet, of course-and let her presume Bhelen had been the one to send them or whatever she wished to think of them. And her little brother did notice and gave her a questioning look between meals every once in a while after each present arrived. But she only smiled and went back to discussing the ways the various Houses were quarreling again as she cut delicately into her bronto steak.

She did not strike when she saw Bhelen begin to make moves in Dust Town. To ally with the Carta bosses to do his dirty work in exchange for some of the wealth and finer adjustments in life. Trian did not notice a few of his silver buttons went missing and blamed it on the servants as thieves. One poor girl had been beaten so badly that Valda had stepped in and offered the girl a new job instead of cleaning her brother's laundry: to make sure her spiders were fed. She had agreed and despite the healing wounds causing her some delay in being able to work, she had grown extremely adept at managing the caves and the spiders had learned not to harm the girl, even when she took a few of their eggs and venom for herself. Valda did not mind nor ask after her blatant thefts. Being a woman of any rank was hard enough when the men of the noble caste were as inconsiderate and selfish like her eldest brother.

Still she did not strike when Bhelen began to put his plans in motion. He had quietly orchestrated small quarrels between a few noble Houses, pitting them against each other in Provings to test his skills at coercing the upper classes. Barran had bested them all and drawn himself as a target after he ended the conflict through diplomacy. Their father had held a feast in celebration. Trian had all but secured Lady Helmi's daughter's affections by then, bolstering the traditionalists' favor in the Assembly despite Barran's rising own status and favor amongst the reformists and Warrior castes. Bhelen seethed over his wine that night. Until she had slipped him a note with the location of a warehouse full of food and medicine and scraps of old unused fabric and metal from her many, many gowns and armor. He had put the warehouse to use and it was empty within a fortnight, it's contents gutted and distributed amongst his followers.

He had thanked her but did not reveal his plans further.

But they both knew where the rot lay. And they both knew what measures would be needed to remove it.

Still, the entire system did not need to be torn down like he wished. Rebuilt and reconstructed, but not demolished.

So she struck at last.

It was the eve of the expedition and the feast was in full swing. Trian was complaining until his eye had wandered to some lovely noble women wishing to dance and flirt with the heir to the throne. Barran glowed with pride and swagger as he roamed the hall before disappearing with a pair noble-hunters, one on each arm. A third had been sent to Gorim's quarters and Valda did not pretend to hide her jealousy when the woman left with a smile later that night. Luckily, her handmaidens had been more than happy to help calm her anger by giving her tasks until it was time to move. She was still human, after all. She still held regrets sometimes.

If she were not who she was, she might have been able to have him. But the castes were absolute and the Assembly and her father and Harrowmont all valued tradition. Some more than others.

She was waiting alongside his concubine when Bhelen returned to his room, the two of them happily chatting about various skin and hair care regimes and the frustrations of the world's expectations with her future sister-in-law and herself. There was no doubt Bhelen would do anything for his loved ones.

And so would she.

"Sister, I....I did not expect you." He frowned and crossed his arms as he made his way across the room towards the two women.

"I know," She savored her last sip of wine for the evening before setting the glass down, "And I have a proposal, dear brother. I will be blunt since it is time we be honest to, at least, each other."

Bhelen's brows furrowed and the canny intelligence he took great pains to hide gleamed bright and open in his eyes then. "I'm listening."

"I know some of what you have struggled with these past years," She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, letting the sound breathe into the air for a moment before she continued, "Our struggles may not be the same, but we understand that our home is being destroyed by more than the darkspawn. It is being destroyed by ourselves."

Bhelen sat down across from her, gently taking Rica's hand and kissing her knuckles, "Would you mind preparing a bath for me, love? I need a moment to discuss some things with my sister."

Rica nodded and curtesied, "Course. My lady, excuse me."

Valda waved her off, "None of that, my dear. You will be Queen one day. Bow to no one but the ones you love."

Bhelen blinked in surprise and Rica smiled, as pleasant and easy-going as ever, "I will keep that in mind."

As Rica left the room, Bhelen leaned forward, fingers dipping out of view to no doubt reach for his knife sheath. "Queen, sister? Whatever gave you-"

"Honesty," She reminded him simply, "You and I both wish to change the face of Orzammar in our own way. And I believe we can help each other do that."

He leaned back and lifted his hand to stroke his beard for a moment. The gesture was so very much like her father and brothers that she had to bite back a swear. Bhelen, of course, noticed the slip in her mask and smiled, "Yes. Let's be honest, sister. Tell me how you wish to change Orzammar for the better."

"I believe you've had enough of listening to others tell you their goals, brother. " She smiled and set her hands on the table, palms up, "Tell me yours."

There was a pause as Bhelen seemed to weigh his options. Finally, he shook his head, "You will not help me. You do not have the heart for it."

"I have no more heart than you." She countered, "Our brothers are fools, my twin included. If they must be removed to ensure we get where we need to go, then so be it. That is what you planned for with that ex-warrior caste, isn't it? To move the Aeducan shield so you can set them up against each other."

He frowned, "Why would I wish them dead?"

"Because Trian does not respect you and would never change what needs to be done. Barran attempts to help but does not understand the causes of our sufferings."

"And what sufferings are those?"

Valda let her eyes drift towards the screen that separated the running water room of the bath, "You and I were not meant to be what we wish, Bhelen. Your ambition is to do better for the dwarven people, for your lover and your child."

He scowled, "You seem to know a great deal, sister. However did you come across such things?"

"People talk about interesting rumors all the time," Valda responded crisply, "Beyond that, we both know that I cannot name my sources without risking their lives, now can I?"

He chuckled and waved a hand, "You are such a spider queen, sister. If I did not know better, I would say you would much prefer the throne yourself!"

"No." She said.

There was a pregnant pause.

He arched a brow, "Truly? You could have all the power you wish. Any man you want. The Assembly would happily support you."

"The Assembly are old and do not speak for all of our people," Valda looked at her nails. The paint had chipped away a bit somewhere. "I wish to remove the caste system where it harms people. But I cannot be the one to do that."

"And why not?"

"I do not want power, Bhelen. I want people to be able to choose what they are in this world. What we Dwarves become. We cannot do that if a symbol of the old ways does that."

"Elaborate." His brows furrowed as he turned his head to the side to glance at the baths.

"Many people view me as either a copy of my mother or an extension of my brother as his twin." She smiled bitterly, "It is how I have managed to go unnoticed on my own all these years. So, no, I cannot be the one to change our people, but I can help the one who does."

Bhelen shook his head, "You want me to be King?"

"I want to help my brother," Valda corrected quietly, "Because I believe that he will do what he needs to in order to better help our people. All I ask is that I am listened to and my requests are accepted when I have them."

Bhelen met her gaze, "And what requests would you have?"

"A voice of my own to say what I wish, agency to decide things for myself be it marriage or other life prospects, and the dignity of any dwarf has been granted in your new rule."

"That's vague," He pointed out, "What will you do with these favors, if I grant them?"

"Serve our people by ensuring the old nobles do not interfere too much with your work, for one," She brushed aside her ringlets from her armored shoulders, "Ensure the casteless are fed and respected and the darkspawn driven back. Forge alliances and trade. All the same things you are already planning. And a few you haven't accounted for."

"Like?" He questioned.

"You'll find out eventually. You're smart enough, brother. And we promised honesty to each other." She held out her hand, "Now, do we have a deal?"

Bhelen glanced at her hand and seemed to think it over a moment longer. Then he clasped her forearm and they shook, "Very well, sister dear. I will do what you ask so long as you do not betray me."

#Valda Aeducan #my writing things #cw sexism #my ocs stuff #bhelen aeducan is smart and kinda hard to write so i hope i did it write?

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hecohansen31 · 4 years ago

Text

What We Used To Be As Children

Harald Finehair x Reader (Vikings Era).

(A/N): Hello there, @gearhead66!

A little bird told me that you were having quite the rough patch this July, and that today was your birthday, so I thought about doing a small thing for you to enoy and to brighten your mood, I hope at least!

Hope you’ll enjoy this!

SUMMARY: You had always been in love with your veloved childhood friend, but to him you weren’t anything more than a fellow memory, but when time come for you both to marry, he might just change his mind.

WORDS: 2,1 K

WARNINGS: Slight Mention of Abusive Household, Reader’s Struggles and Insecurities, Not Exactly Following The Series (but when do I ever?)

Rumors had been going through the entire Vesterfold that the king would choose a bride soon.

And it replenished your heart with so much sorrow and sadness.

You couldn’t deny that you had avoided your beloved friend Harald for quite some time, although it was difficult since you had been attached to the hip since you were children.

The man had many times moved away from kingly duties to ‘annoy’ you in your work of keeping the household clean.

And your siblings, rigorously all boys, fed.

Who liked teasing you and liked Harald much more than you, teaming up with him against you, each time.

And being worst gossipers than you, yourself.

One time, they had almost made your heart rush out of your chest, because the eldest of them had commented that you were ‘old’ and still ‘unmarried’ as if it was your fault, when your father could barely keep his trousers on his work, your only income.

Harald’s generous offers that you had started accepting after a winter you had been all your brothers almost die of starvation.

You had never meant to take advantage of your friendship with the king, although your father insisted that you did, always commenting on you as if you were some kind of prized cow to be sold out to the best offer.

You and Harald had grown up as smart children, always left to fend for each other and eventually you had developed a protectiveness between each other that made him worry for your family and you for his poor battered heart.

Harald had a taste in women that was dangerous, to say the least.

But you didn’t want to appear as some kind of jealous freak, preferring to simply smile, meanwhile your heart broke from the inside, because you both grow up, him with the idea of a kingdom for Eilisif, you had grown up with the idea of a small life with him.

And everybody in your house seemed to know.

You had been talking with Harald, having invited him inside as he had brought you some meat leftovers from the latest feast, and he had witnessed your brother unhappy comment and you had caught the onto it, glaring at your brother in a way that had made him stand up in his place.

But your younger brother couldn’t be convinced so easily, with his big mouth.

“… here comes the reason why our sister is unmarried!” he had shouted, meanwhile the toddler of the family had waved at Harald with his tiny hands, evidently having also understood what your brother had meant.

Your face had then been coated with crimson and even the ever-feared Harald Finehair beside you had blushed lightly, order your younger brothers ‘to leave you alone’, although it was a comment that held no strength in it.

Soon after the news of him having to marry came arriving to all Vesterfold and you had started avoiding him attentively, leaving only accidental meetings at the market or when you came to the feasts mostly for the food and the ale.

You wondered whether the knowledge of your interest in him had speeded up the process of him wanting to marry or he had been harboring the idea for quite some time.

Both ideas made you uneasy.

And your heart had already shattered itself to the ground the night that you had discovered he had invited a stranger in his own bed, bringing her from Kattegat and calling her aòready ‘his queen’.

You had never wanted that title for yourself.

Your childish-self had once jokingly married Harald in the middle of a clearing with only a dress of cotton and flowers threaded in your and his hair, and you would have done it again.

But he had obviously shown that he didn’t care for such a thing with you.

You had then wondered whether it had been you who had not been enough or if he had been too interested in following flames to sit properly at the hearth and enjoy its warmth.

Either way, it was none of your business.

It would never be, from the moment he swore his loyalty to her.

What good was a childhood friend to him now that he had a lifelong company?

And your father must have thought the same, thinking that if you lost Harald’s favor, he would have soon lost all his income and he wouldn’t have been able to simply sleep off the all day.

He had to do something about it.

He had to sell you out.

He had already sold all the pieces your mother had left from her morgengifu, so you were the only thing he could still sell without being looked like the madman he was and you welcomed gladly his choice, because you would have at least something to take care of your head meanwhile Harald enjoyed his wife.

And your soon-to-be-husband turned out to be a merchant, who had paid your father an hefty sum for your fertile hips and pretty smile, although you could feel his arrogant soul, you knew that you’d have travelled far away.

You’d be worried for your brothers, but some fresh air would have helped you.

And soon words of your engagement got out of your small town, mostly because of your father, who in a drunken fit confessed to you:

‘I had to fucking marry off my sole daughter to a foreigner… because that cunt of a king would hound her like a dog, scaring off all her suitors’.

You had calmed down your father, suggesting that Harald hadn’t cared about you all that much.

Had he cared for you at all, he wouldn’t have hounded your suitors, but he would have followed you, to chase your hand marriage.

But it’d never happen.

Or so you thought.

That afternoon you had been working thread and stitch, preparing your bridal dress and bridal towels, embedded with runes of fertility and strength, and although you weren’t looking forward to wear the former and use the latter, you found the gesture strangely reassuring.

It certainly helped you to keep your mind focused.

And then all your friends were gasping, meanwhile you were teaching a smaller girl an elegant pattern and you thought your father must have again forgot his pants at home, but as you raised your head to scold him, you found it wasn’t your naked father.

It was much worse.

It was Harald.

“Ladies, will you do the favor of leaving me and (Y/N), alone?” his tone might have been an order and soon, in a fury of cotton and stitches all your friends had left the room, as you shifted uncomfortable on the chair.

It had gone all so well.

You had been able to avoid him perfectly and soon you’d be shipped off with your husband, enough not to have to meet him again.

You hoped and dreaded that thought.

“You aren’t seriously even going to face me?” his tone was arrogant and aggressive, pushing your head to look further up on the worn out boots you had chosen for that day.

Although you didn’t have much choice, since they were the only ones you owned.

You didn’t have the algid beauty of Astrid or the elegance of Eilisif, certainly not being able to compare yourself to them.

But you wouldn’t have hurt Harald.

Not intentionally at least.

“… we used to be best friends and now you can’t even face me” commented Harald with disdain in his tone “… what might have I done to make you act like this?”.

‘You are marrying, after you promised to do the same with me, under a crown of oranges and lilies’.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“I’ll be a married woman soon” you simply chanted, the words sounding so foreign on your tongue “… and I don’t think it is proper for me to see other men that don’t belong to my family”.

Harald took a sharp hiss and then his fist hit the back of the chair next to him, startling you at the horrid sound that gesture made, not afraid of Harald, never afraid of him.

But the gesture wanted to make you fight him.

“… don’t ruin my house” also your voice was a hiss, a snake hiss, as your eyes finally met Harald’s amber ones “… you’ll be a polite guest or I’ll have my fun throwing ‘an old friend’ outside, believe me…”.

And Harald’s face shone of hidden amusement.

Because that had been the façade his friend had always given him.

And that was why he had chosen you, through so many children.

You didn’t give a shit and you wouldn’t have coddled him.

“… then don’t bullshit me” he shot back “… your soon-to-be-husband isn’t the one thing stopping you from visiting me… and if he is… he isn’t the right one for you”.

“As if you knew who is right for me” you spoke back, as you crossed your arms over your chest, leaving your weight completely on the back of the chair.

And he had pushed himself forward, grabbing under your chin with a swiftness that had caught you completely off guard.

“… I do” and his eyes spoke of inner truth “… you deserve somebody who’ll treat you with kindness and won’t be afraid of that savage side you hide to everyone but me”.

“My future husband might be just like that”.

But even your tone wasn’t convincing.

In the slightest.

“You were always a terrible liar”.

“And father wants to sell me. He has to since you won’t be providing for us anymore”.

Harald’s eyes became tight at that mention and you knew you had hit a sore spot.

He had always wondered what people loved him truly for, aching for a pure love, one that would have withstood rain and fire, whether he was a king or not.

And he hadn’t ever had anybody for that.

Except you.

But you knew he harbored some doubts due to your father’s inquiries towards him.

And you knew the quickest way to push him away.

“… who told him I won’t take care of you” one of his hands lowered itself onto your arm to stop you from the cross position you were in “… I’d take care of you and your family for as long as I live”.

“Will you swear it?” you were teasing darkly, and you saw the beast appearing in the man’s eyes.

And it made liquid arousal fall down between your legs, making you shift your legs closer, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed to Harald.

But you brought back his attention.

“… you’ll have a wife” his eyes were glued on your body, as they lowered themselves slowly “… and she won’t be happy of your help towards me, Wives are jealous and wicked things, wanting their husbands solely for themselves”.

“I thought husbands were like that” he commented, and soon his hand was again under your chin, indulging on your throat in a way that was a sensual caress and suddenly the air in the room had tensed itself up and it wasn’t rageful anymore.

It was arousal.

“… wives hold the heart of the beasts in their hands, believe me” you chastised him, holding yourself closer till you were inches apart from doing what you had ached obtaining for a whole lifetime.

Not a child anymore, and neither a clumsy teen.

A full-grown woman.

And a threat in itself.

Harald pushed you back still so easily that it made you feel like a ragdoll.

And soon you were in his arm, unable to run away.

But could you seriously run away from the place you had always wanted to stay in.

“Did you just say that I am a beast”.

“I am not your wife, so you aren’t my beast” and then realized that one minute spent in his arms would have been a minute more of torment in your mind “… leave me, Harald, my father could walk over us and…”.

“… he has already… so many times” he spoke loudly “… and you don’t want me to leave”.

“Think about your wife!” you tried to make him reason.

“… I don’t have a wife” he breathed on your lips.

“Not yet!”.

“Not anymore”.

And that surprised you as your eyes pleaded him for more.

“I sent her away…” he confessed, as he brought you closer and right on your lips he whispered “My heart is not mine to give because it is already yours”.

#Harald Finehair #Harald Reader #Harald x Reader #Harald Imagine #Harald Fic #Harald Finehair Fic #Harald Moodboard #Harald Finehair Moodboard #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine #Harald #Sydneysbirthday

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