#my dad's dead. my uncle's dead. my only grandma who I was close to is dead. we're not in contact with anyone else anymore.

[orcelito]

I'm tired of dreaming about my dad. I know it's part of processing, but I am just so tired.

[running-in-the-dark]

I've just realised that when my mother dies, I'll be the oldest person in our family (as in, the people who are related to me who I'm in contact with/ever see at all). that's.... weird

[panther-os]

Full Name and Family Headcanons

For the extended 141 family plus the fruity bastard betrayer (derogatory (affectionate)), some more complete than others. If any of this is directly contradicted by canon, I don't care, that's why they're headcanons

Soap

John Steven Donald MacTavish

Two loving parents, the youngest with at least 3 older siblings, all sisters. Closely enough related to the Chief of the Name and Arms of MacTavish to a) be considered low upper class and b) know his exact place in the line of hereditary succession. Also the kilt he wears on special occasions is always the modern MacTavish tartan, do your research. Grew up in Bonnyrigg outside Edinburgh and is emotionally attached to Sir Salter Scott

Ghost

Simon Lorcán Riley

Same family and circumstances as '09 Ghost (extremely poor, abusive dad, oldest of two boys), but give him loving maternal grandparents and three cousins. He's Irish by ethnicity and heritage, which a few family members kept alive and passed down to him, but British by nationality. His great-great-(great-?)grandparents migrated to Manchester during the Great Hunger, but his aunt moved back to Ballylongford where some of the family originally lived. His cousins and maternal grandmother are all alive but think he's dead and he keeps it that way for their safety. His middle name is after his maternal grandfather who died when he was young and was given to him by his grandma. I do also hc he's trans and have a deadname headcanon for him but I don't share those. The specific neighborhood he grew up in inside Manchester was Beswick

Gaz

Kyle Adam Garrick

Grew up in Brixton in London, relatively poor with two loving but working parents, but also with an enormous tight-knit community and more neighborhood aunties and uncles and cousins than he knew what to do with. Has one baby sister but she's 20 years younger than him so she's a baby baby and he was already enlisted and moved out when she was born

Price

John Matthew Price

Grew up in Anfield in Liverpool, near the football stadium. Avid fan, ropes Ghost into Liverpool vs Man United debates every season. Ghost doesn't even like football. Middle class, working dad and stay at home mom, older sister, younger sister

Roach

Gary Parker Sanderson

Working poor, older sister, younger brother

Laswell

Katherine Emma Laswell

Middle class child of divorce, no step-siblings or step-parents, lesbian wine aunt who's basically Kate Kane (coincidentally Kate's favorite superhero)

Nikolai

Nikolai Antonovich Pokrovsky

Absent parents, one younger sister

Farah

Farah Leyla Karim

Canon family - two loving parents killed by AQ, one older brother. Her middle name is the Georgian spelling of the Arabic name Layla (see my post about Urzikstan and Abkhazia for why this spelling)

Alex

Alexander Jeremiah Keller

Two older sisters, two triplet sisters (one an hour older, one three hours younger), two younger sisters, single mom, also raised by aunt and grandmother

Alejandro

Alejandro Ernesto Vargas Leon

Grew up working poor, dad died when he was three, mom had to work, older brother 4ys older took jobs for the cartel starting at 12-ish to make ends meet and left Ale as the "man of the house" at 8. Also has one 4ys younger sister (same dad, mom was pregnant) and 12ys younger twin baby brothers (different dad who chose not to be in the picture, oopsie babies). He loves the twins but wants to hang them upside down by their shoelaces more often than not, his sister is just as mischievous but more mature and subtle about it which made her easier to raise

Rudy

Rodolfo Ildefonso Parra Rosales

Born into a poor family, cartel killed his parents when he was three, adopted by a single mom after that. His new family is unrelated to the Cartel but his bisabuela is just as feared and respected as El Sin Nombre and La Araña before her, if not more in some parts of the city. Learned his best chancla skills from her. Only child but grew up in a massive multigenerational multifamily home with at least 20 older cousins - was the baby until he was 7 and now he's the second youngest

Graves

Phillip Windsor Graves

Upper class, born to parents who had an heir to the company because it was expected of them but who didn't actually want or like kids. Essentially raised by a rotating cast of nannies

[mikakuna]

remembering that one time I came across some absolutely stunning poison ivy powered Jason art. and I was like oOh tell me MORE!

except more turned out to be a jaytim au which had me backing up, it’s just not my thing like genuinely I think Jason would never. Also Tim pisses me off 😭

but the Jason being poison ivy’d stuck with me cause I would like to give this baby girl all the parental figures.

he’s got Willis. he’s got Catherine. Nocturna. Talia. Ducra.

(Bruce. Who he loves despite it all? Sheila, who he also loved and tried to save despite it all? Ma Gunn, who is his grandma??)

Harvey, who I laugh bc I love the idea of Harvey being like “yeah okay FINE I guess this is my kid now” and Jason is like “this is Harvey my…work associate. Occasional uncle figure I GUESS”

But poison Ivy???? HELL YEAH. Harley wearing one of those “I’m not the step dad I’m the dad that stepped up” shirts and she’s crosses out dad in marker and wrote “parent”

can’t escape the thought of poison Ivy—like having occasionally run into Jason on the streets. Then as Robin. And then he’s dead, and she grieves. and then the UtRH thing happens and like, idk where she’s supposed to be when that goes down but for the sake of this, let’s say Arkham? And Jason dies again at the end of that warehouse scene excerpt no one knows for SURE right, cause Batman took joker and left.

But joker at Arkham laughs abt how the birdy died again. Batman slitting his sons throat to save HIM. Ivy overhears and rages and grieves all over again.

Only Jason is alive?? Ivy runs into him when he’s injured somehow on the verge of dying again and like, she doesn’t KNOW he can just come back? So she uses a small dose of her serum on him, and before she could administer more he wakes.

Jason with the ground talking to him constantly. Gotham always whispered in his ears but now her dirt and trees and daisies and weeds call to him too.

It’s a small scale of ivy’s powers. He can’t do what she can. But he can communicate with her via the Green. He can hear her call to him. 

-welcometothehouseofhades

(Id switch off anon but then it’d be from my main lolll)

i took too long to reply to this babe but OMGGG YES

i loveeeee ivy and her being another one of jason's parents is perf!!!! jason and his badass mother figures is top notch and not explored enough guys. LOLLL i love your harvey bit because it's so so true omg-- they are reluctant parent child !!!

just the idea of jason collecting gotham rogues as his parent figures and/or estranged aunts/uncles is one of my favourites because jason deserves to have parental adults in his life who hate batman. ivy being such a misunderstood rogue who ultimately just wanted to help the planet makes it so much better for jason.

your note about timjay is too real. a big part why i cant stand them is because jason is turned into this big scary dominant top so tim can be the baby in the relationship. hugeee turn off for me as both a bottom jason enjoyer and an extremely emotional but competent jason enjoyer

also i don't know if you already read this fic but i'll link it since it follows really closely to your premise about ivy finding out jason died!

[jewishbarbies]

we got a call from my grandma today. she said my uncle, my only biological one, now has a brain tumor. this comes after he had a battle with cancer recently. my dad’s entire side of the family is in CO, we’re not close with them much at all, but everyone loves my grandma and she’s honestly the best woman in the entire world. she’s the best of all of us.

all her childhood friends are dead from either medical issues or old age, her family members have all died of old age, both her husband and long term partner have died, and the only remaining people she has are my dad, his wife and kids, and my uncle. uncle has a wife no one likes/wants to be around, an older daughter from a previous relationship who abandoned her own newborn baby on my grandma’s doorstep, and a younger daughter she shares with uncle. none of them are nice to her and treat her like a maid.

I truly don’t think she could handle losing my uncle if it comes to that. if anyone has any positive vibes please consider sending them to her.

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

The sun was much hotter than usual in Arkhelios, forcing its residents or visitors into either air conditioning or a pool to cope. Fortunately for Theo, his grandmother owned a pool, even if it wasn't as big as the Rivales'. While his parents were at work and all their kids were home from school for the weekend, it had fallen to Elaine to watch the Bellamy children. Saturnia and Abe were both napping in the air conditioned guest room and the twins had gone to visit with their father and Evren, leaving Theo mostly left to his own devices. He'd asked Ironman if Adam could come over and the former servo had agreed. Grandma Elaine certainly wouldn't have allowed it, but Theo had asked an adult resident of the house and gotten permission. He wasn't a lawyer like his aunt, but he was pretty sure that this was a foolproof plan to get what he wanted.

After splashing around in the pool for a bit, the boys had pulled out a floating toy to lounge on in the sun. Theo could feel the warmth of Adam's skin pressed against him and the faint throbbing of his pulse in the hands that wrapped themselves around him. He was pretty sure that this was as close to heaven as it got, seeing that he felt so happy that he just might die of it. 

"The sun is nice," Adam murmured into Theo's shoulder. "I wish our school had a pool. We'd have a lot more opportunities to snuggle like this."

Theo wasn't sure if his face was hot because of the beating sun or from the sudden heat that engulfed him when he thought of making half naked aquatic snuggling a regular part of his day. 

Still, he was haunted by the knowledge he'd promised to tell his boyfriend. After their sleepover two days ago, they'd studied for an upcoming test, had a pop quiz in potion class and then they'd been freed from school. The weekend was now theirs to enjoy, with plenty of time to have serious conversations. Theo wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, and Adam hadn't pushed him on the matter. He looked a little more worried than usual, but ultimately, he trusted that Theo would bring up the mysterious topic on his own.

"We need to have that talk I mentioned the other day," Theo said quickly, before he lost his nerve. "About the guy I met."

Adam's face changed in an instant, suddenly fully alert.

"The hot guy you don't want to dump me for, but is still going to be scandalous to me? I'm all ears."

Adam stared at Theo expectantly while Theo adjusted himself on the float. For reasons he wasn't sure about, it was surprisingly difficult to just say the words he needed to say. Maybe it was his own experience with scandalous accusations in his family that held him back from just confessing what he'd been told. Adam didn't deserve to feel the same way Theo did about his own father.

"I went home after school with Oliver Goldman, remember? For the project we were assigned by the witches' council?"

"That moldy soup you handed my dad? I'm sure he only let you pass because we're dating and Oliver is the queen's little brother. That thing stank!"

"Hey, I'm good at blood magic, not stupid potions!" Theo protested. "Not to mention that Oliver did absolutely nothing to help me. The guy's a dick, no matter who his sister is."

"And?" Adam prodded, looking anxious that their complicated conversation had started with the queen's brother who could do no wrong with their teachers. 

"And I met his next door neighbour. His name was Ewan."

"Lots of people are named Ewan," Adam frowned. "Prince Ewan, Queen Claudia's grandfather, died young and tragically. It was out of respect for him that so many people in his family and around the world named their kids after him. I mean, my own dad is named after him; he was my dad's great-half-uncle or something."

"Yeah…but he told me that he wasn't named after some long dead prince. He's named after his father, Ewan G Maricourt."

There was complete silence for several minutes while Adam processed Theo's words.

"I don't have a brother," he said slowly, looking disturbed at the idea. "I would know if I had a brother. Why wouldn't my dad just tell me about him otherwise? I know he's had relationships since the divorce, but none that got serious enough to introduce us to. And he married both my mom and Miruna's mom when we were born, so why wouldn't he have married this kid's mother? Was this supposed brother a kid or was he older?"

"He looked our age, but he implied that he was older and more mature than me," Theo replied. "He was kind of a jerk too. He refused to get my name right."

"Do you think he was lying? I mean, we're not rich, but we're also not poor. Our family has connections, but there are so many other families that are better off. Do you think it could be a lie to kick my dad off of the council it to cause a scandal before Miruna's wedding? Theo, this could be a big deal, I need to talk to this guy before this story gets out of control."

Theo frowned. The thought that this mysterious guy could be a trap meant to hurt Adam's family hadn't occurred to him. He'd spent too long getting flustered by this Ewan's appearance and attitude to accurately advise his boyfriend.

"Well, he lives next door to Oliver's parents," he said. "His brother or something used to be friends with Queen Claudia growing up. He looked happy to see the queen again."

"Her Majesty was there when you met this guy? Theo, we need to get a handle on this before it gets out! The queen's old 'friend' and his little brother who claims to be my dad’s kid? This could ruin everything!"

Adam tried to control his breathing so that he didn't start hyperventilating, but it was hard to stay calm. Adam usually worried about even the smallest detail in his daily life, and this was just too much to handle.

“Okay, we need a plan. Who should we ask for help? Should we ask anyone or should we keep this quiet? No. No. If I tell someone, that means they’d know and might ruin things. This could be a trap to test how we’d react in a difficult situation. What if someone is planning a terrorist attack on the wedding and needs to see how Miruna’s family would react? No one’s solved the terror attack in Twikkii Island and that’s been years! What if this is being planned by the same people? The queen’s wedding might be their next target!”

“Or your dad’s just as bad at birth control as mine is,” Theo pointed out, trying to get his boyfriend to stop spiraling. “Trust me, I know from experience that these things probably aren’t terror attacks. Your dad is just a hoe. You get used to it after a while. My dads won’t stop cheating on each other; I probably have a million half-brothers. It’s not the end of the world. Your dad’s not married, so there’s not even an affair. Things are fine.”

“Or things could be wildly out of control. We need to know if this guy is dangerous.”

“Which means what? Asking your dad for a list of ex-girlfriends? Running a DNA sample with my creepy Aunt Oriana? What will help you feel safe? We’ll figure this out together, Adam. I promise.”

“Together!” Adam exclaimed quickly. “That’s it, Theo! We need to act together. If we can verify this guy’s story and he’s trouble, we can warn my dad and Miruna. I do need your help though. What’s the easiest way to accurately determine if two people are blood relatives that we have access to?”

“Uh, Aunt Oriana’s secret lab and all the machines I can’t touch in there?”

Adam shook his head.

“Too risky,” he replied. “She’d ask questions about running a paternity test and she’d need a sample of this guy’s DNA to work with. How would we possibly get one of those without raising suspicion?”

“In his garbage. Crime shows and Aunt Lucy say that that’s the best way to learn information about someone,” Theo stated proudly, confused by the disgusted look on his boyfriend’s face. “If they throw it away, it’s legal to rummage through.”

“What? No, gross. I’m not going diving in people’s garbage,” Adam stated. “Think about it though. A DNA test is beyond our skills, but what are you specifically in school studying?”

“Blood magic obviously.” He paused, trying to recall any important warnings his teachers had given him regarding his area of expertise. “Adam, I don’t think that- I mean-”

“Can you do it? Can you make a spell that will tell us if there’s a blood connection between two people? I think I’ve heard about one or two when the council still met at our house a few years ago. If you could cast a spell, you could tell me if he’s my brother easily. You could probably even submit it to school for extra credit.”

Theo paused, hesitating with his reply until he’d really had a chance to think this through.

“I think there’s a spell in my textbook,” he said slowly. “I’m really not supposed to practice this stuff unsupervised though. It can be dangerous and I might need another witch to help if I lose control of it.”

“Well, you have another witch,” Adam pointed out. He snapped his fingers and Theo’s backpack filled with textbooks left Theo’s messy room and landed by Adam’s feet. “This will be easy.”

Theo could feel his stomach churning from anxiety, but tried to keep smiling. His boyfriend needed this and it would be great practice. This was what Theo was studying for after all. It would be easy.

“Okay.”

“Okay, so we need a wand, some chalk, three drops of blood from the caster and salt,” Adam read.

He and Theo were curled around a hastily drawn magic circle, flipping through pages in the advanced blood magic assigned curriculum. After about twenty minutes, they’d found a spell that would work for what they needed it to do. It was a spell of revealing, of drawing together a bloodline. Theo was pretty sure that it was intended for some dark purpose, but he’d use the spell responsibly. They studied basic magical ethics in school; he’d be fine.

“Hmm, but in order to see your bloodline, you need to be the one casting the spell,” Theo pointed out. “I can’t cast the spell on you, you need to be the one shedding the blood and invoking it yourself.”

Adam’s face fell as he considered his options.

“I...I don’t think I’d be good at that,” he sighed. “Blood magic isn’t like formal magic and it’s hard enough for you to do. I’d probably end up wiping out my bloodline if I tried. Maybe there’s another spell that you can cast, like a curse that makes me see the truth or some kind of hex.”

“Not really, no. That’s not how blood magic works. It’s personal, that’s why I have to hide my true name, you know that. Blood, names, spells, it’s all intensely personal. All my teachers don’t even really encourage me to do some of these spells. Like a few for an exam, but overall, it’s something dark and horrible and not to be done. It’s why I’m pretty much the only kid in school learning it. My kind of magic is dangerous and bad.”

Adam’s face fell upon hearing those words and he immediately wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

“None of that is true,” he insisted. “You’re a great warlock and your type of magic is valid and worthy to study. You’re great at it and I won’t stop until the whole world is okay with you studying it. No one is going to look down on you, not when I’m around.”

Theo smiled gratefully at his boyfriend. Some days it really did feel like he was studying some forbidden, dark magic that people looked down on him for and it wasn’t easy, especially when his potion work was poor and his attempts at formal teleportation had nearly ended with him losing a limb.

“In fact, you do the spell,” Adam suggested. “We’ll use a loophole. If I join your bloodline to mine, you could see the connections in my family. You could get closer to this Ewan without suspicion even. You can connect people, the sovereign wanted you to join your parents together. It should be easy.”

Theo stared at Adam in shock, trying to process this strange request.

“You want to join our bloodlines? Like how joined? Demonic marriage like my parents wanted or combining them in a more conventional way....like with a kid? You do know that’s why my powers are so strong and uncontrollable, right? Because conflicting curses were sealed into one embryo and I was going to explode one day and take half of my bloodline with me? Getting a paternity test done by my aunt would be a lot easier than any of that.”

“No, not with marriage or a kid,” Adam quickly replied. “My uncle died because he was messing around with that idea. I could never do something like that, my mom would never speak to me again. Obviously we wouldn’t be doing that. Not ever. Especially not with a kid!”

Theo released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding at this assurance. He hadn’t thought that Adam was serious about any of that, but it was better to make sure. The Darktides did have a family history of pushing magical limits.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Adam sighed, pulling away from Theo shamefully. “I was just thinking about ways we could work together on this, while worrying about the chance that this whole half-brother thing could be some kind of trap. You’re just really strong and I thought that...well, it’s stupid. You’re right. Blood magic is really personal and permanent. I get it. We’ll do something else.”

A worried frown spread across Theo’s face as he watched Adam internally battle his own fears and reservations. Clearly, whatever he was thinking, he was extremely conflicted and stressed. Theo thought back to when he’d learned about Georgiana and could certainly commiserate. It wasn’t easy reevaluating who you thought your parents were and the many ways they could disappoint you.

“Well, look, it’s not all permanent with blood magic. There are different levels of blood joining. We could even try making a homunculus together in a bottle, that might be enough to work a temporary joining spell. There’s lots of different spells in my textbook. I was just surprised. It’s a good idea, but that’s kind of a lot to just throw at a person.”

Adam smiled, though it didn’t look sincere to Theo’s well trained eye.

“What’s the smallest level of joining we could do then? Something temporary. Something that won’t last for even the whole weekend. Then there’s no danger to either one of us. We just have to pay this Ewan a visit, see if he’s my brother and things will go back to normal right after.”

“A blood pact maybe?” Theo suggested. “We combine my magic and your bloodline to complete one mission: is Ewan your brother or is he not? Easy.”

“Easy,” Adam agreed. “I’ve always wanted to try blood magic, even if I’m not the one casting it. You and me, working together, doing magic. It’s romantic, don’t you think?”

Theo nodded confidently. This was romantic, as romantic as it could be anyway, investigating a potential half-sibling that was kept a secret. For a day at least, he and Adam would share their bloodlines and bind themselves together. What would it be like to feel his magic flow into Adam and have Adam’s ebb back in reply? They’d be stronger together, that was for certain. Maybe this could be a regular thing, especially a day before a magical exam. Surely it wasn’t cheating on a test if some of Adam’s formal magic guided Theo’s spellwork.

“We’re on a mission together, one that could save a royal wedding from disaster,” Theo teased playfully. He didn’t believe Adam’s paranoid worries, but it certainly sounded more adventurous to be saving a wedding from certain peril than investigating whether Adam’s father knew how to use birth control. “Okay, get the silver knife out of my backpack. It’s in with my pencils, I don’t use it very often.”

Adam did as he was instructed and held up the knife expectantly.

“Do I just stab it somewhere?”

“No, put your hand in the magic circle,” Theo commanded. “You need to use your true name for it to work. That’s your whole name and you have to say it in the proper way or the spell is weaker. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing. What’s your name and how does it sound when you think about yourself? Take a deep breath, prick your finger with the knife and say your name loud and clear.”

Theo held his breath again, waiting for his boyfriend to follow his commands. It was always risky doing blood magic with a partner in case they weren’t honest with their name or intentionally said it wrong or without the proper emphasis on the correct words. Most people were given their true names at birth and only chose how the sounds would be pronounced, while others rejected their given name and chose both the words and sounds that defined their magical essence. Honestly, he was dying with curiosity to hear Adam’s true name and had been since they were kids. It was something so private and sacred and he had chosen Theo to hear it over anyone else.

Adam took a deep breath and pierced his finger as commanded. He held his hand in the circle, watching as drops of blood fell, illuminating the circle’s magic.

“Adam Sebastian Casper Medora Darktide-Maricourt.”

Theo tried to hide his delight at this revelation that only he had heard, but was probably failing. He could spend an entire evening replaying this moment over and over in his head, committing each inflection to memory and truthfully, he probably would.

And he added Medora to his name, just like a true Maricourt would! That’s how he sees himself, and only I know it!

Still gleeful at this turn of events, Theo tried to focus on the task at hand. He reached for the knife and repeated Adam’s actions.

“Theodosius Ulysses Bellamy.”

A sudden spark of green flame flooded the circle, and disappeared as quickly as it came. Theo scanned the relevant page in his textbook and chanted the written latin, trying not to mess up any of the difficult words.

“Bind us together until we learn the truth about the blood connection between Adam Sebastian Casper Medora Darktide-Maricourt and Ewan, uh, Maricourt. Let me, Theodosius Ulysses Bellamy, be the vessel for this bloodline to gather and connect with each other. Let me see the truth that has been hidden. Bind us in this purpose.”

The rings of the circle hummed with life around the two teens, indicating that the spell had been successful.

“Did it work? Are we different now?”

Theo examined his hand carefully. The magical flames had seared his self-inflicted wound closed, but he still felt relatively normal.

“I’m not sure, I-” Theo stopped mid sentence when he saw the quiet flicker of magical energy flash the closer he was to Adam’s body. To test this discovery, Theo tried waving his hand in the opposite direction. When the light reappeared only when Adam’s hand was near his, Theo beamed.

“I’d say it worked! This is amazing! We did it!”

While Theo celebrated, Adam once more looked worried.

“Um, are you sure that was this Ewan’s name?” he asked quietly. “I mean, if no one’s aware of his existence, why would he have my dad’s last name? Does that matter?”

Theo paused to consider the question.

“Um, I don’t think so. I was picturing him when I said it and like I said, the true name of someone just makes the spell more powerful and accurate. I think we’re fine.”

“There are a lot of Ewans running around though. Are you sure?”

“Well, most of the ones that you know of are named after a family member,” Theo decided. “So they’ll be connected by blood anyway. If we find a blood connection to the Ewan we’re investigating, then he’ll be connected to the other Ewans too, which should end the spell. I think we’re fine.”

“Alright then. Let’s clean this mess up before your grandmother comes to check on us and has a heart attack. Then we have a possible brother to find.”

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Entirely Different Breed

“Give, and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.” Luke 6:38KJV

Have you seen the viral videos of people giving money to the homeless and other people? Their filming crew randomly selects people to give money to. A homeless man wins $1000 from a lottery ticket given to him. His first reaction was trying to share with others, then weeping. The deserving waitress gave of herself to customers. Same film crew orchestrated a $1000 tip, trip to Hawaii, and a new car. Her joy was boundless. South African videos are mimicking this but giving food, shelter, and medical care.

Jesus told us: “Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you…” Matthew 7:12NLT When I was around thirteen years old, Mom and Dad were trying to buy Grandma’s house. Grandma’s will left each child an equal part of the house. Trouble was: Dad had been crippled in an accident and had no income. Mom’s ability to earn was very limited because of his 24 hour care. Two aunts and one uncle kicked back their inheritance to my parents. They all prospered because of their gifts.

William Buffet has been quoted as saying, ‘the more money I give into others needs, the greater my income increases. Former entrepreneur, Mary Crowley wore a necklace with two shovels on it. One was tiny, pinky fingernail sized. The other was about an inch. She’d tell people, ‘The small shovel represents what I give into others’ needs. God’s shovels back what I give with His bigger shovel.’

Kenneth Copeland tells of a great need he had before becoming a big preacher. He found someone with a need and gave to help them in their need. In return, God sent someone along to provide for his need with a little extra besides.

Once, I gave a prayer request for someone unemployed, unemployment income run out, dead broke and needing help to save their vehicle. A total stranger came to me a few minutes later and handed me a large denomination bill sowing into the needs of the other person. I saw the little shovel in action. Later, I heard about the big shovel event in the life of a once stranger’s life.

Everywhere people are barely surviving. Houses foreclosed. Vehicles repossessed. Inflation has gone wild. God is looking for shovelers.

“…Whoever has the world’s goods, and sees his brother in need and closes his heart against him, how does the love of God abide in him?” 1John 3:17NASB God takes seriously how His people use what He gives them. Much of the Old Testament regarded Israel’s failure to care for their poor, widows and orphans.

James instructs: “Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves…a doer of the work, this one will be blessed in what he does.” James 1:22,25KJV. If we hear the Lord's word to be a giver and don’t give, we’re deceiving ourselves.

“Whoever increases wealth by taking interest or profit from the poor amasses it for another, who will be kind to the poor.” Proverbs 28:8NIV For years I’ve heard about a transfer of wealth coming from the ungodly to the qualified people of God. Who’s qualified? Those who will funnel this transfer of wealth to where needs are. It won’t be the wealthy. It will be the givers. They’re an entirely different breed of Christians, ones God can trust. What are you? It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Father help us to become trustworthy givers that shovels wherever they’re told, in the name of Jesus Christ’s I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2024 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[gay-jesus-probably]

You have a relative that won the Stanley Cup I have a relative that didn't win the cup but played NHL and was in the Olympics

I'm Native so I get the big extended family thing I think he's a second cousin or something

Oh nice, olympics hockey is always a blast; if your second cousin plays for Canada, I hope they're damn good lmaoo. And to be fair, I would not call Jean Beliveau a close relative of mine; like, I know we must both be descended from one specific guy who came to Canada in like 1650 (Antoine Belliveau), aaand I think the extended Belliveau clan also all has a mutual ancestor in Pierre Belliveau about a century later; pretty sure he was the only Belliveau to survive the Acadian genocide. But he had like eleven kids, so like 250 years later I think there's like two thousand Beliveau's scattered around Canada and the northern US, under various spellings of the name. It's honestly not that big a deal; I'm related to Jean Beliveau the same way anyone with the last name Broussard is related to Beyonce. Very distantly, but damn if it doesn't feel cool to brag about it to people.

(...that's not a joke btw, Beyonce is also Acadian, Francois Broussard came to Acadia in 1653, and Beyonce is one of his many descendants; if your name is Broussard, you're Beyonce's very distant cousin. You're welcome.)

But I feel you about having a whole bunch of something-th cousins; none of my aunts wound up having kids, so I've just got a whole bunch of cousins of assorted flavours. Made more confusing by the fact that my dad grew up with two of his cousins and considers them to be his sisters, though they're not, and I genuinely can't tell if the two of them have a third sister or if she's a different cousin, and frankly at this point it's far too late to ask. I have no idea how the fuck I'm related to anyone in my family; at this point all I really know is that of my surviving family I've got one grandma, one aunt, two aunts that are actually first cousins once removed (and maybe it's actually three but I don't know), an uncle that's actually my great-uncle and oh my god I just realized I actually have no idea where great-uncle Sulo fits into the family tree, I think all the cousins I know came from great-uncle Jerry. FUCK. My dead grandma only had two brothers, this should not be so hard, but oh dear lord is it ever hard.

And that's just one branch of dad's family. Jesus lord. Don't even get me started on mom's side of the family, which is also fucking enormous; my paternal grandpa had six siblings, and all seven of them had children, while my living grandmother also has a bunch of siblings with their own kids. It's so much, I literally couldn't even begin to guess at how many maternal cousins I have, it's absurd.

[vvivvaccious]

Age 3-5 . My aunt pulled my hair and dragged me she blamed me for her sons bleeding forehead since it was just us playing together.

Around the same age, my mom always leaves me to work in the city the entire day, and if I be left to my aunt who has a methhead of a husband. I dont think my brain wants to remember being touched by him in any way. Still around the same age,since it's only my mom and I living together, someone tried to rape her by climbing the side of the house and into the ceiling. He dropped a knife between my mom and I, and I still remember my moms screams during that night, but I couldn't understand what was going on.

I witnessed my dad beating up my mom out of jealousy and suspicion. He locked her up in the room after she cried and screamed, and I was just sitting by the door trying to see in between the gaps at the bottom of the door.

I remember my mom drinking so many bottles of beer as she tried to make rugs while I played with the dropped leftover clothes underneath her.

Age 5-9,parents left me to work abroad. When theres any family related events/ holidaysI just feel confused,jealous and empty ...

Grandma would kick me out of the house. Throw my clothes outisde most of the times its at night. Growing up, Im really scared of the dark, especially bout the guy who's crazy but roaming freely in our neighborhood. And all the myths and urban legends of creatures. But I used to sleep outside till morning in my pile of clothes hiding between the little palm trees, crying till I fell asleep. She also tells me how unlucky of her to be taking care of me instead of my cousin from a different province since she's well-behaved.

Around this time, I'd be called names by my cousins and teased by my unlce/aunts bout my parents having another family. that's why they're gone,thats why they left me. They enjoyed seeing me cry.

Grandma got breast cancer. She didn't wanna see me. Maybe she was trying to protect me or just dont wanna see me. My relatives would blame me for it either jokingly or srsly that I was the cause.

She died, and my aunts started fighting/debating who would take me.

Around this age (7-8), I discovered I was adopted. Locked myself in the room,screaming and crying my eyes out. My cousin justified what him and his mom said by saying "Its true. She was picked out of trash"

9-14,Close to daily beatings from my dad. He had used 4 belts(he hit me so hard they snap, so he gets a new one),sticks,bamboo,slippers, and points machete in my face.he hits me both side of the belt but most of the time its the metal head and it would lodged into my skin, but worse thab this is the things hed tell me whike beating me up. To this day it rings in my head randomly and subconsciously. Being beaten almost every day/week. Telling me to just die how he wish I was dead, that Im a misfortune I only bring shame and hard life into the family. That if it wasnt for my mom Id be dead by his hands or not be adopted. I'd go to school with bruises and cuts while also having stress from school for being an officer in different fields. One time, I got so stressed bout school that I wrapped a thick rope around my neck while still being in school. (CAT officers have their own headquarters) so I went to the armoury and just tried to die.

I was groomed.

My uncle then tried to rape me. Parwnts signed me up for taekwondo so I learn self-defense.

Taekwondo became my lifeline,my dream. TIll I tied the belt so many times around my neck till I had blurry vision and suffocating. They dont want to support me cause they were scared I'd break my bone? Or just a hassle.

Ran away from the house,left a note saying "fuck u god" cried under a tree. Dad found me and gave me the beating performance of his life.

I looked for a sense of belongingness and comfort from having alot of friends and doing sports. Usually way older than me. I welcomed all. Drug addicts,ex-con,prostitutes,athletes,normal ppl,etc.

15-Present

Cultured shock in Canada. The silence was deafening. The voices were deafening. Lonely,lost,depressed.

Broke up with the married groomer. Even deeper depression along with family problems and myself. My dad was suicidal. My mom was working 2-3 jobs. Family finally together but a very big mess.

Finally, I muster up the courage to ask for help twice, get ignored, or turned down.

Got addicted to dota. Skipped so many classes . Dont give a fuck . Ruined my future. Found a (ex)bf ,mentally and emotionally abusing me.break and make up routine.

Told my friend goodbyes. Drank a whole bottle of advil. Took a shower. Friend callled police. Police arrived. I said it was a prank. Next day I keep coughing and throwing up blood whislt having high high fever. 4 days like this. Dealt everything alone, of course. To this day I still dont know how I fucking got through it.

Got a job he had access to everything. Got financially wrecked by his gambling and spending habits. Cheated.

More more family shit. Shit catching up to me. Self worth depleting. Ptsd. Anger issues, etc.

[nofoxgiven]

OK well now I'm thinking about it a bunch

So my great grandpa died to cancer when I was in 6th or 7th grade, it was the first and to this day, only major death in my life so to say it had an impact on me is a bit of an understatement

First off, he was the only male role model in my life, like ever. My dad walked out on me before i was born, and my step dad was such a piece of shit I never considered him any kind of father figure, just a leach living in the same house who happened to be married to my mother and have donated sperm for my siblings

My mother's father *also* walked out on her

I have a singular uncle, and while he's an awesome guy now, he was literally a teenager unpacking a lot of complex trauma himself while I was growing up

I don't think my family really... worried? At all about the whole lack of male role models thing, I was a girl after all, I can learn everything I need to know from all these women around me

Except I'm not a woman, and it would be really nice to have a standard to hold myself to

For a while I considered my grandpa, he was a veteran, he took care of my grandma, my memories of him are mostly good

But unfortunately he died when I was too young to be smart enough to make sure I got to know him. I know he liked wood working, I've got a rocking horse he made me, it's in our garage. And a half finished dollhouse he started when I was 5, and died before he ever finished it

My memories of him are almost entirely of him in his lazyboy, before things got bad, and then in his hospital bed when they got real bad

I've got maybe a handful of memories from when I was real young before he was old and tired and sick, riding around on the four-wheeler with him in the Alaskan wilderness, helping with chores around the cabin, that sort of thing

But I didn't truly know him, and the more stories I hear from my mom the more... the more I'm glad I didn't? I don't want to sully the memory of the only male rolemodel from my family I've got, so I'll leave it at he was certainly a product of his time, and as an old white Christian man I'm certain you can guess what sort of opinions he held I do not

All this to say I clearly have a complicated relationship with my memory of and the legacy of my great grandpa

I remember pretty clearly the last time I saw him, it was the weekend, we drove the 2 hours to my grandparents house in the literal middle of nowhere

I remember staring at a bowl of soup someone had put in front of me, my great grandma's famous chicken corn chowder. This soup has caused fist fights over who gets to take the leftovers home. I couldn't eat any of it

It was very obvious to everyone this was a final hurrah, grandpa hadn't been talking or doing much of anything for weeks and now he was insisting people come talk to him and making people call family out of state. He knew. We knew.

There was a whole lot of sitting around just hugging people and crying and that's all a blur, but when he called me over, I remember exactly what he said and I think I always will. Some of it I'm keeping close to my chest because that was for me only, but he ended it with "Please add more color to your life"

12 year old me did not take that to heart. I was goth/emo and proud of it and I wasn't about to let some dead old guy tell me how to dress

But I did actually take it to heart. By 9th grade I had a fully rainbow coat from one of those Indian import stores, I wore it every single day of high-school until eventually it fell apart to the point I couldn't. I've worn mismatched brightly colored or rainbow socks just as long. Most of my clothes are still black and gray, but I hang up colorful art all around me, I buy the most colorful water bottle I can find

In a weird way I think it helped me come to terms with my queer identity. I know he didn't mean "go be queer and happy" that man would have disowned me if he had lived long enough to see me go from his perfect granddaughter to a queer freak

But his urging to add color lead to a lot of queer people approaching me in my high-school years. Before I was ready to accept who I was, I was a walking billboard of queerness in my rainbow jacket, and that surrounded me with Trans and bi and lesbian and gay people and every flavor of queer, and gave me the space to explore myself and my identity in a way I might not ever have if I had just kept myself in my dark closet of shame

There is literally no point to this post, and I'll probably delete it before the end of the day. But boy is life complicated, and I sure am glad an old racist white man told me to add more color to my life, maybe I'll pretend to have forgotten all the shit my mom's told me

[tetsunabouquet]

I just read the maniest AITA story involving someone who's mom died when he was young and is having issues with his stepmother, stepsiblings and half-siblings. Now there's my usual gripes with these people who 'didn't wanted another mom' because as someone's who's grandfather died when my deadbeat father and his sisters were still kids, I can assure you most of their behavior issues stem from that, being spoilt rotten to compensate for their loss and my grandma not remarrying as the eldest of my two father's sisters has major validation problems and all stemming from growing up without a father. Kids need two parents. But in this case, the man just had a baby he honored after his dead mother. This is quite selfish, he wants a connection to his mom, but the baby will NEVER have a connection with that woman because she is dead! As someone who looks more like her grandfather then my dad and his sisters do because they look fully white and we both visibly look partially Roma, I don't like that nearly every time I meet with my dad's eldest sister, she starts comparing me to my grandfather. Seriously, I don't need to be reminded of a man I never had a relationship with every time. But you know who this baby can have a connection with? Oh right, his stepgrandmother. My mom never saw her stepmother as her mother, but she never tried to correct me when I called my stepgranmother 'grandma'. She actively encouraged it! We're not close, but I'm closer to her then I ever have been to my biological grandmothers. Are these people seriously not realizing that the OP and people like him, are depraving that child of familial connections? I even saw a top post saying that 'OP's father better needs to step up and put them in place if he ever wants to see his grandchild'. Don't they realize that the half siblings are biologically the aunts and uncles of that child too?! I don't care how the OP and other OPs feel about their half siblings and wether they didn't wanted them to be born, at the end of the day those are still biological relatives of their children. People say its the family's problem and not the OPs, but that only accounts in situations were there isn't a child. Once there is a child involved, it IS also the OP's problem as that child shouldn't be burdened with his father's ill-relationships with the rest of the family. People in this case should be the bigger person and try to handle the situation with grace. My mom isn't close with her half brothers either, but she always gave them the opportunity to have bonding moments with me. In the southern part of the Netherlands, we celebrate carnival, like the actual holiday. Our wagons aren't as showstopping as the ones in Rio, but we definitely have parades with wagons and I have memories of sitting on top of my youngest uncle's shoulders who's the typical 'really tall Dutch man' so I could have full vision of the parade. Don't even get me started on how I have likes, hobbies, skills and whatnot in common with my aunts and uncles alike that I don't have with either of my parents. What if that child is going to have a hobby that he does have in common with one of his uncles or aunts? Those can bring precious bonding moments! When my deadbeat father tried to demonize my mother, accusing her of 'trying to keep me away from him', I knew he was lying out of his ass because my mom always was the bigger person. Wether it was towards him or her own family members, she only kept me away from problematic ones like her abusive mother she went no contact with years before my birth. She always tried her best to keep her drama with everyone to herself, and I respect her so much for that. I say it on my blog instead of the actual topic as I always get downvoted a lot for my unpopular opinions but to the OP & people like that I have one thing to say: Always do your best to try to make amends, always do your best to give them the opportunity to be family to your child. You might not feel like they are your family, but your feelings don't matter. Your child's feelings do.

[growling]

ShadowClan (headcanon) family tree draft 1

^Long fuck

[GROANS OF PAIN] This one was way harder than the WindClan one because there are many major characters in here so I had to actually keep most relations intact to maintain the narrative cohesiveness instead of just going "fuck it we ball gorsetail is heathertail's mom now". Also, ShadowClan's family is INFINITELY more fucked up I just realized. While hardly any WindClan cat has a canon family and thus I can do whatever, ShadowClan is almost entire consisting of cats who do, and let me tell you the modern (as of ASC) ShadowClan consists of the tiger/dove family (+ grandma tawnypelt), the grass/stone family, the slate/cinnamon family (+ uncle puddleshine), blazefire say hello to blazefire, and... the snow/scorch family.

Now, the Snowbird x Scorchfur parents arc has FUCKED UP ShadowClan beyond belief. Snowbird has gave birth to three whole litters of three. That's nine fucking cats in total, she is a mother of NINE. Six of them are currently alive and still residing in ShadowClan. Two of them had kids of their own. She has six living children and five living grandkids. That is, (counting the whole snowscorch family, + uncle ratscar hello uncle ratscar) 14 fucking cats in this wretched family. ShadowClan consists of 28 cats sans the infants. Snowbird, Scorchfur, their spawn and uncle Ratscar hi uncle Ratscar take up 50% OF SHADOWCLAN. HALF OF THE ENTIRE GROUP.

There is no way to salvage this. No fucking way. Snowbird and Scorchfur cannot keep their god forsaken kindergarten. Fuck staying close to canon, I cannot do this anymore. Snow/Scorch now only have one litter; their second and third is shuffled over to Olivenose & Blossomfrost and Swampspot (Blossom and Swamp are former Canon Dead Babies I gave back the privileges of life in order to spread their genes in this hellhole).

Also: Russetfur, Blazefire and Cinnamontail (+ her babies) aren't on this tree. Russetfur and Blazefire because they are former outsiders that aren't really related to anybody so there's hardly any point, and Cinnamontail because ehhhhh I just didn't want to. She can still be Slatefur's wife whatever. It's good she is his wife because she's a former outsider which is fantastic hell yeah new blood whatever

I realized I had an opportunity to do something very funny and thus... I put Komaeda in Warrior Cats. I repurposed Hopekit from YS (Yellowfang's dead baby; she doesn't need dead baby angst she already has "my son grew up into a war criminal dictator and doesn't know im his mother because doctor nuns giving birth is illegal" angst) so that they're born earlier and a parent of Whitewater. Yep, that's Hopefire! He is a ShadowClan warrior and a proud single father of Whitewater and grandpa of Snowbird herself. His dad, Snowtuft, was residing in cat hell and legitimately didn't remember why he forgot his atrocities and then got fucking double killed his soul got GOT rest in rip Snowtuft, and his aunt, Sagewhisker, was a morally dubious ShadowClan's medicine cat and mentor of Yellowfang, whose most distinguishing character traits were 1) old, 2) guilt tripping Yellowfang into swearing celibacy to become her apprentice because she got cat superpowers or something 3) suggesting feeding cat cyanide pills to an injured teenager to Spare His Suffering instead of treating his injuries which is her job because like whats the point mannn!! (Yellowfang told her to go fuck herself and treated him herself, he actually ended up surviving and then dying in a war a year later <3) 4) suggesting Yellowfang either: cat abort(??) her illegal fetuses (i mean not rrly bad but how would that work + Yellowfang didn't want an abortion) OR wait until they're born and kill them (what the fuck) she could mean either it was worded vague as hell 5) died of a heart attack rip in piss. What a character

Anyway that's Hopefire aka Komaeda Danganronpa he's canon to the growling headcanon warrior cat universe <3 thank you for your contribution to the tree. Komaeda from warrior cats, his beloved baby daughter Whitewater, his evil amnesiac double-dead dad, and stinky celibate priestess aunt with a medical degree and something deeply, deeply wrong with her.

That is all folks. As in the previous one: green marker means no parents decided (or ive ran out of canon cats; most of them don't need specified parents anyway whatever), yellow marker means outsider, red marker means outsider that joined or was taken in by ShadowClan. Toodles.

(So, uh............. RiverClan tree is next up)

[pinkaroma]

The Silent Years

Most people don't have recollection of the first 5 years of their life. A friend once told me his earliest memory of his childhood was around 6 years old. Unlike me, I remember many memories of my childhood before the age of 5.

My mom met my dad at the age of 18. She had a strong desire to leave home and start her life as an adult in the real world. But my grandmother had strong traditional beliefs that a woman should not leave the family home until she is married. This prevented my mother from going off to college with a full ride scholarship she worked hard to receive. She turned it down in respect of my grandmother's wishes and to avoid her own mother from ending all contact with her for a possible few years as my grandma once did so with my eldest uncle. (He married the woman of his choice and she didn't like my aunt one bit. My uncle went against her wishes and moved away to marry her, thus causing a fall out, and in the end result she did not speak to him once for another 6 years).

To my mom, marrying my dad was her one way ticket out of the house. At first my mother didn't love him. It took her a few months to fall in love with the man she married. Almost similar to how arranged couples take a while to fall in love together. And to my dad, marrying my mother was his only way to get a green card as he was a Canadian citizen.

My mom was on the patch. (A form of birth control). Of course she was sexually active with my father. She went to live in Canada for about a year with my dad as she wanted to meet his side of the family. It was there that I was conceived. I was a literal "whoops". Despite being incredibly responsible with changing her patches on time, I was still an outcome. My father was livid, because he didn't want children until later in his life. (Even though he was literally 10 years older than my mother.) He was so mad. He pushed my mom down the stairs of his parent's home when he found out. But my grandmother intervened to defend my mother, and she cursed my dad out in Vietnamese, my mother didn't know what she said to him, but she knew it was enough to put him to shame. At first, he didn't want me. But his family was so happy about the news of me being a girl as all the grandchildren they gave my paternal grandmother were all boys, I'm guessing it was the only reason why he didn't object afterward. I'm the only granddaughter for my paternal side of the family. My mother was emotional, I mean it was her first pregnancy, who wouldn't be? She decided she wanted to have me in the states back in her home town because she wanted to look to her own mother for comfort, advice, and other topics. My grandma was the main reason why she wanted to move back and have me there instead.

In November of 2003, I was born.

I can say for a fact I don't remember much for the first 3 years of my life. I have blob-like memories of that timeline. Like going on trail walks with my parents, family members, my cousins, smells, my old daycare, and faint memories of playing in the plazas of Mexico, my grandmother's house in Mexico. Burning my hand on a iron because I was curious, scraping both my knees on the same day, one knee in the morning, the other shortly after. My neighbor friend. My first family dog. Just small memories of different things.

But the vivid memories I have are of my closet's darkness, the tears streaming down my mother's face, my dog's dead body lying on the face of the backyard concrete, the broken glass girl's tea set I had been gifted from my mother, the bright blue and red lights outside my home window, and the sound of my father's vociferate voice when he was angered.

My father, as you've already noticed, had anger issues. He still does now, but he hasn't done anything similarly close to what I remembered since he was forced into state mandatory anger therapy.

I remember how easily upset my father got when I was a child. It was like walking on egg shells around him. Anything could piss the man off. He was so mad once that he broke one of the plates of this beautiful glass porcelain tea set my mother got me. My mom and I were playing together because I asked her to play tea party with me. We put the set in dirty dish sink because I used actual desserts on it, and used water to pretend I was drinking tea. I don't remember what he was mad about but I saw him raise the plate and bang it on the marble counter causing it to break.

Not once did he ever touch a single hair on my head. It was only my mother he took his anger out on, I have memories of him beating her. He expected her to do everything herself, and even maintain an image. He wouldn't give her money either. He was so frugal, a literal cheap ass, he forced her to give him the receipts of the things she bought at stores. It was so bad, we barely had furniture in our house, I didn't even have my own bed until the age of either two or three. My mother would hide money she received from family members to buy everything we needed. I also remember I had a tiny time gap away from my parents from when I was around 2 years old. I don't remember the reason why, but I remember living in my grandmother's house for a few months in Mexico until my mom came back for me. I remember clearly how verbally abusive my dad was. And at times, I was there to witness both my parents physically fight. The scarring, the bruising. I was so scared that most times I went up to my room to hide in my closet and I'd just cry in there alone as I heard the furniture downstairs knock over, the tumbling, yelling, and the sounds of my mother in distress. Although I don't remember the call, my mom told me in one of the fights my parents was in, I took the house phone and dialed 911 for help. I do remember the police showing up and instead of accepting the help the two cops offered, she instead refused them and said everything was fine. And my parents were both silent for the rest of that night. My mother never said anything or asked for help from anyone. She had always kept silent. My mom told me that while she was married to my dad, all she wanted was to die, but she always thought of me and my brother first.

After the aftermath of one fight, there was broken glass on the floor that no one realized was there because it was clear, that I ended up stepping on it, and to this day I still have a small yet healed scar on the bottom of my right foot.

And while pregnant with my brother, she discovered my dad cheated on her with his co-workers multiple times. My step-mother in the near future also happened to be one of these co-workers. And it was thanks to him that my mother contracted an STD. (If you ask me which STD, I truly don't remember, I'd have to ask her again.)

There was also another time, in which my mother purposely got a job at a small grocery store just to earn money to support me, my baby brother who was recently born, and our dog and used it as a perfectly good excuse to stay away from my father. I remember while she was gone at work, my dad was so mad at our shih tzu, his name was Gizmo, named after one of the Gremlins from the movie. He had peed and chewed up the TV chords and my dad was so mad I remember he grabbed Gizmo from the back of the neck and walked to the backyard door, opened it, and threw my dog across the yard as if he was a football and I saw him fly, his back hit the tall wooden fence, and then I saw him fall to the concrete floor. Our backyard wasn't a normal backyard with grass but rather an entire area of just concrete. Soon after, he called my mom saying he messed up. She got off work early worried that he might've hurt me or my brother, and when she walked in, I had told her what happened and we both rushed to the backyard to see poor Gizmo on the ground in a pool of his blood. She rushed him to the emergency vet, apparently he didn't make it that night. She was so sad and felt so bad about it that she had to lie to me telling me he was in the puppy hospital getting better. Within the next 2 weeks, she bought another Shih Tzu with the same colors, but the spots were in different areas, and named it Gizmo. (I noticed the spots were different but I didn't think much of it. I was clueless.) She lied to me saying it was the same dog because she didn't want me to know our actual Gizmo passed away. The amount of blood I saw on the original Gizmo was so traumatizing, that when I saw Gizmo #2 walk past me, I had thought I saw blood on his back and even said "Mommy, Gizmo's bleeding." And there was nothing on his back, but I swore I saw it. I don't know if my mom remembers when I told her that.

At some point, it was finally too much for my mom and when I was around 4 and a half years old, she divorced my dad. From that point on, I had two different birthdays and two of each holiday.

[aswrittenbyisa]

jan. 20, 2023: long story short...

Hi and welcome,

I haven't really sent many letters before, even though I've always loved the idea, and so I'm still trying to figure things out. Should I really do this? What should I even talk about? Why would anyone care? I don't think it really matters. I've never been much of a constant person, something I'm not proud to say in any way, and I got used to having phases being the one thing that never changed. I've had phases of hobbies, of favorite actresses, favorite music to listen to, phases of fashion choices and of inner disturbances. But writing is the one thing that's always been there, it's the only constant. Most of you even reading this know me because at some point I decided to write something, and otherwise we might have never met! Others know me not because of what I write, but you know me and I write, and it's one of those things where the two walk together, it is what it is.

Point of it is, writing is definitely one of the things that got me through the last year, and it's been mostly me writing in my room, be it like a poorly planned voiceover in my journal or a perfectly dramatic (and let's be real, camp) collection of characters that live in my head and dig around my thoughts, my feelings and memories and pick which ones they will dissect that day. Sadly, it's just so much easier for me to share through these fictional reveries than to actively talk to so many of you, and so I decided to share something personal with people that make my days better one way or another. Thanks for being here!

I mostly wanted to write this down, put it out on the world, let it be known: this last year was shit. I'm not a believer of good and bad years, by the way - I think it's bullshit. But I've truly never felt worse, and it's not something I think I could have changed. I guess I just had to feel these things. I had to look back and think of all that there was, and isn't here anymore... I thought it was nostalgia at first, and then realized it was something else. I was lonely, suffocatingly so, and when I realized, everything I did all year long was just this silly, giant attempt at keeping the things and the people that I miss close to me. I don't think this is something that will ever go away; it's kind of a part of me, the pain of grief, of not really knowing where to put all the love and the hopes I had of getting to know the people I already lost. I'll never see them again, they'll never know me for anyone other than who I was when they last saw me. And so this year was just this huge patchwork of unexpressed love; I found my grandma's old crochet needles, I made something out of it. It was nothing, now I can wear it outside. So many of the movies my uncle called me to talk about, we never really got to talk about. I saw some of them this year, who am I gonna talk to now that I did? Doesn't matter, I watched them now, I'll just keep that to myself. Also, my fucking dad, right? Where does he even fit in this? I was kind of robbed of all the anger I felt for him, I was robbed of the resentment of never having him around, because now he's gone. Who am I going to be angry with? This dead guy? Come on, I know me better than that. He just doesn't matter, he wasn't around... but he gave me a sister, and I'll forever be her big sister now. And that one day when dad came over, he had The Winner Takes it All playing on the car stereo, he knew I like ABBA. I'll never be angry to his face again, we'll never sing ABBA together in his car. I wrote him a letter before he passed but he never got to read it, and now this letter is all around me everywhere. I was just my past mes dancing in my bones and recoiling inside like, you're never getting rid of us. That's fine too. If I made it through this year, I should be fine.

Here's my 2023 manifestation board: I will be happy, I will be at peace, I will continue to make things with my hands that will prove to me that I'm still here, I'll watch even more movies, I'll cook for myself and my loved ones, I'll be gentle, I'll get a new job. I'll learn so many new things. Maybe I'll get bangs. Maybe I'll get a tattoo, even though I have no idea what I would even get. I'll definitely take better care of my health. I'll be at peace...

I'm really looking forward to changing things around in my life, and I really miss studying. I always think about that quote by Sylvia Plath where she talks about seeing her life as all these branches on a tree, and all possible choices lead to this beautiful fruit hanging from each branch, but she never picks one of those fruits to eat because choosing one means losing all others, and so all fruits rot and fall in front of her before she can make a choice... That's it, right? There's not a deadline to when I must make a decision and pick one fruit, one life road instead of all others... but standing still means seeing all options rot and fall. I'd love to move to a mountain's foot, write for a living, have an unholy amount of animals to care for; I'd love to become the next biggest name on fashion journalism, maybe take the chair of Anna Wintour in a few years; I'd love to write screenplays and make movies; I'd love to travel the world and write a recipes book of all the things I discover; I'd love to work at a flower shop, learn all about flowers; I'd looooove to study history and art and work at a library, or museum, study millennia-old things for a living. I'd love to be able to pick an option soon. Maybe by the end of the year I'll have made up my mind...

I hope the last year's been easier on you than it was on me, and have the best wishes in mind for the year to come. I don't think it's been any less than messy for all of us, with grief and heartbreak and fear all over, but the good news are here: Long story short... we survived.

Thanks for stopping by! Mwah!  Isa

[stewardofningishzida]

Real-Life Crazy Story 5:  How Could It Bee?

TRIGGER WARNING: Bees! Also, being trapped.

One day when I was around 6 or 7 years old, my mom was about to teach me how to cook. As soon as I was able to reach the counter, she started my lessons so that I could learn basic life skills to support myself and help others. In this case, we would both learn unexpected new lessons.

While getting ingredients, I noticed a bee on the curtain. I told my mom and she shooed it outside. So it began. A minute or so later, I turned around to wash my hands and there were TWO bees. It was weird, but whatever. Mom shooed them out too. Then, there were 4. Then 8. Then 16. More and more bees appearing. Mom looked to see where they were coming from and they were emerging from the vent above the stove. Apparently, they had followed their queen into the stovepipe looking for a new area for a hive. Mom closed the vent and told me to be quiet so we could listen and figure out when they leave. Several minutes later, they didn’t leave. There was an ominous buzzing.

Mom turned on the heat in an effort to chase them out of the stovepipe, thinking they wouldn’t like it and leave. Instead, we heard a chorus of angry clanking from hundreds of now-furious bees banging on the walls of the pipe. More made their way in. There were far too many. A full-on invasion. So, my mom grabbed me and we both fled to the bedroom, blocking the door as the bees took over the kitchen. She called my dad and he came back from work with my grandpa and several cans of Raid.

Note: This was years before we knew about Colony Collapse and other such things. My folks acted in self-defense and we were out in the middle of nowhere. Don’t do this now. Please call animal control or a bee relocation service whenever possible.

After the bees were dead, my mom and I re-emerged from the bedroom. The kitchen was greasy with Raid and covered in thousands of dead bees. So, we ended up sleeping at my grandma’s house for the night while my dad, uncle (who had returned from his classes), and grandpa cleaned up the mess. Months later, we still kept finding random dead bees in various light fixtures.

Lessons learned: Be prepared for as many things as possible AND bees don’t like heat. It only serves to make them more angry.

Stay safe and save the bees, people!

[naturallyalisia]

Quick Lil (not really) Emotional Note

Sometimes at random, I'll think of my biological father. He didn't abandon us, he transitioned years ago. Just shortly after I was born. I only have photos and what others have shared with me about him. I have no organic memories, my sister has a few but enough for it to have taken a toll on her as time passed. She and my mother felt this more, they have bonded on that trauma. I don't have that. I'm not saying that I wish I felt the way they did, some days I felt lucky because I didn't have to live with the pain of missing something I knew, something I experienced.

When my sister and I were younger and my grandparents still lived in NY we'd visit here and there. Some days we'd visit grandpa and stay over and some days we stayed with grandma (they were divorced). I remember one-time grandpa brought us to all these people to visit, family or friends of the family I suppose. He'd introduce us and the exchange was all the same " These are ____'s kids, XYZ" and they'd looked shocked, say a few things, mention how we look like him, how sorry they were and they'd give us money. (My sister and I got at least 100 bucks that day lol, I remember too because I bought several of my scene dolls when we came home.) I didn't understand what they meant, cause as far as I was concerned I had a dad already, this guy here is my grandpa and I didn't question it. It wasn't until I got a little older I asked my mom why me and my sister didn't have the same last name as our stepdad, her and our baby brother. Then she sat me down and told me. I wasn't sad at that point, just neutral and accepted it. From that point, I was very open with close friends or people who asked about my parents. "he's my dad but not my really dad, he died". That was it.

As I got older hearing all the stories, and seeing how people drifted apart, and changed due to the pain of this loss I thought I had won the lottery. I didn't know him, I don't have any attachments. So I don't get to be sad. I don't need to be sad. I had a step-parent that stepped into that role, despite the issues between him and my mother.. l had a dad, he wasn't my blood but he never made me feel as if I wasn' t his growing up.

So that feeling of sadness didn't really hit me. I think only once did I react because my kid brother said my dad was dead and I cried about it, my mom said it didn't make sense to cry because I didn't know him. I wish going back my mom didn't let that slide because I believed it. So I left it alone. Today I chalk it up to not wanting to revisit that pain and mourning again. I'll probably ask her.

This neutral energy stayed this way until a few years ago. Which I think sparked after seeing my grandfather & my uncles. I haven't seen my grandpa in years since he returned to his country shortly after my father's death as far as I know. I saw him and gave him the biggest hug, I wanted to tell him everything that had happened to me since we last saw each other. Every. chance he got, he just looked at me and said "look at ____'s daughter. Looks just like him". He Shared stories up to when he got the call my father died, how he felt, and everything. I need to visit him, I spoke with him a few months ago. Aside from my uncles/aunts that is all I have left from him. Grandma passed years ago, and I never got to see her before she did. It still bothers me... though she did visit us. (that's a story for another time)

Eventually, I suppose the feelings of loss and grief started to catch up to me. I got married and things started to shift. I started to realize my dad will never be here for any of my milestones. I tried to push it down. I tried to ignore the fact that I couldn't go to him for advice, I'd end up in relationships that didn't serve me because I wouldn't have experienced the daddy's girl life that my sister had which was cut short, he'd never meet his grandchildren if I'm blessed enough to have them, he never had the chance to teach me to drive, to fix things..none of that. I don't even know what he sounds like. He died when he was 28.

28 years old. Didn't even live a full life. I grieve because the opportunity for me to form my own opinion about this man was stolen from me. I can't even decide on my own if he was truly a good person or if he was an asshole. I only have testimonies. (As I write this I think what triggered it was the takeoff's death. The only difference is my dad was just a regular smegular joe, trying to help someone quickly on an errand run for diapers. A true case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.) (Also the movie onward iykyk)

Then I look at myself I turn 28 next year. I'll (hopefully) be older than my father was when he died. I'm going to outage him. It makes me extremely sad. I feel like a failure. I feel like I haven't done anything with my life that would make him proud. I never had the inkling to use that as motivation and it makes me feel like a bad daughter. I'm just here, trying to. figure it out.. I feel like I should be living my best life because he wasn't able to.

I talk to my mother about him regularly, much more than before, and it's always a good conversation. I still see that his death affects her, sometimes I think she died along with him. She lost her way and has struggled since..but now she's seeing that and has been working towards bettering herself for her. I'm proud of her.

All this to say, right now I've been thinking about family a lot. I'm an adult now and I'm not a child anymore. I want to make the effort to connect with my father's family especially my grandad before he passes. That's a big reason for me right now on why making this money is important so I have the room to travel. I don't want to lose my roots. I don't want to forget. I don't want my kids to live never knowing or having to dig and search for family information.

I've seen enough especially lately of what not being connected to your family can do. I want to change that. I can only do my part. If the rest doesn't follow that's okay because I tried.