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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

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Always be my plus one - part 3

Ok, look, it's 4 am, there are going to be typos, and we're just going to have to deal with it. I also tried to find a gif that was Tyson and Cale but I couldn't find one in the gif insert thing on here so I just went with this one (it feels weird to change it up but like, oops)

I make no promises that you aren't going to be mad at me for this part so have fun !

This is shorter than the last part, coming in at around 5k words.

The only warnings I have here are implied sex.

Translations for the Italian in here: "tu sei uno stronzo" - you're an ass(hole)

stronzino - little asshole

Also want to thank @justjosty @zinka8 @hockeylvr59 @hockeywocs anons and I'm sure I'm forgetting people for helping me write this part but ily all I'm just dumb and tired

Read the previous part here!

Series masterlist

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Valentine’s Day

The Feast Day of St. Valentine is traditionally celebrated in the Western Catholic Church on February 14, to honor the patron saint of love. Though not traditionally celebrated as a Catholic holiday, millions of people celebrate the day of love with those who mean the most to them. While pessimists of the day say it’s a ‘holiday made up by greeting card companies,’ approximately 190 million Valentine’s Day cards are sent in the United States alone, not including cards given by school children to their classmates. Couples enjoy the holiday with a romantic night out, presents, flowers, chocolates, etc., while those who don’t have someone or don’t care do whatever they want without the pressure of living up to a holiday that doesn’t mean very much in the grand scheme of things.

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February 12, 2022

“Where are you going tonight?” Matthew’s voice came through his younger sister’s phone. He had called early in the week to see if Anne could babysit Harper so he and Stephanie could do something for Valentine’s Day without having to shell out an extravagant amount of money on a sitter.

“I’m, uh,” Anne hesitates, “going out with Tyson. Sorry.” She hears Matthew let out a sigh on the other end. “Hey, stronzo, why don’t you ask Lucy? Her and Jason never do anything on Valentine’s Day.”

Matthew starts talking about how the last time he asked Lucy last minute to watch his daughter, despite their girls being best friends, she ended up going on a fifteen-minute rant. While Anne gets her heels on, staring at herself in the mirror and admiring the floor-length, red dress she had on the slit going up the side for no one but herself, Matthew continues to tell her about how his twin goes on and on about needing a schedule at all times, how she can’t just drop everything in a moment’s notice because he wants to do something with his wife.

“Hey, Matthew,” she cuts him off, trying to shrug her coat on, “Why didn’t you ask Lucy or Sebby after I said no earlier this week?”

“Because I didn’t think you actually had plans.”

“Again, tu sei uno stronzo.”

“I am not an ass!” he detests.

“Fine, you’re a stronzino, happy?” Anne hears him stammer again, not letting him get a word in, “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later, ok? Ask Ma, Dad’s off in Florida right now so she would probably love to have Harper for the night.”

He lets out another sigh, Stephanie’s voice coming through in the background despite Anne’s inability to understand what she was saying. “Fine. Have fun with Tyson. I don’t need another niece or nephew around Halloween, though, ok?”

“Don’t be gross,” she says, hanging up and finally heading out the door.

Her cousin Adriana was getting married to her soon-to-be wife, Izzy. Her family had no idea that she was the only one who still talked to them, her mother having a fight with her brother after their parents died when Anne and her siblings were younger and vowing to never talk to him again. So far, the stubbornness that seems to run through her mom’s blood going strong since it had been over a decade since she had last seen her brother. Anne was invited to Uncle Frankie’s daughter’s wedding, but no one else in her family.

Adriana and Izzy had this Valentine’s Day-themed wedding, everyone asked to wear red or pink in theme with the holiday, Anne not doubting that there would be paper hearts and cut-out cupids as the decor. The wedding gift she bought them, one of the first things she found on their registry that Anne could afford, was shipped to the apartment they already shared two weeks ago, Anne just needing to remember the card.

She was fully prepared to just sit in the corner with a bunch of people she didn’t know and watch as her cousin got married to the love of her life. Anne wasn’t sure that that side of her family would recognize her after how many years, guaranteeing her to spend her time on the sideline.

Anne slips into the back of the church, seeing no one she knew or recognized to even go up to and sit with them. Everyone was dressed in red, pink, and black. A bit too much for her own taste, but at least she looked good in red and would have worn the color anyway. ‘Note to self, no themed weddings,’ Anne thinks, not particularly fond of the lack of color or real choice that everyone had in figuring out what to wear.

A blonde boy in a red suit walks by her, too far past her to get a good look at him. There was something about him that caught her attention. Anne knew that walk, but she had no idea where she knew it from. It didn’t stop her from admiring him from afar, though, the short blonde hair and the obviously fit physique under the suit captivated her for whatever reason, leaving her practically unable to pay attention to the ceremony in front of her. Not that she cared, at this point she was just there to enjoy the free food she knew would be good at the reception later.

Anne sat at the table against the wall, her cousin not bothering to make a seating chart and just leaving it up to the guests to sit where they pleased. That meant she didn’t have to talk to anyone she didn’t want to, being virtually left alone at a wedding where she knew no one.

“Anne?” a familiar voice snaps her out of the trance she fell into watching Ana’s sister and brother-in-law, Catie and Danny dancing with their two daughters, remembering seeing their pictures on Facebook when they were born, not realizing how much they had grown.

She turns to the man in the red suit who had her attention throughout the ceremony. “Cale?” she smiles at him, not sure how the two had missed they would be at the same wedding this weekend. Since New Year's Eve, the two of them had been texting, calling, FaceTiming, they had hung out, spent the night with each other, Cale insisting he buy her dinner at least once a week. The only reason they weren’t dating each other was because neither of them had said they were. They both said they were busy this weekend, but who would have thought they would end up at the same place. “What are you doing here?”

“Izzy’s brother and I grew up playing hockey together. I grew up with her. What are you doing?” he asks her, taking the seat next to her.

“Ana’s my cousin. Her dad is my mom’s older brother.”

Cale smiles at her, Anne’s heart racing at the sight of it. “So I get to meet your family?”

Anne shakes her head. “I’m the only one here,” she tells him, explaining the family drama that went on between Frankie and Teresa.

Cale looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his suit jacket. The red bowtie, red pants, red jacket even against the black shirt were so much Anne couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red because of the reflection of his clothes or for another reason. “Tyson’s met your family, hasn’t he?”

She nods, taking his hand in hers. “I told you, Tyson and I are just friends. I needed someone to come with me to a family thing, so he came with me.” Cale nods, not entirely sure that something wasn’t up with her and Tyson. Something was off, there was something he was sure Anne was leaving out, but he wasn’t sure. “Hey, I’ve seen Tyson, what, three times since New Year's? All of them when I was with you. I like you, Cale.”

Cale leans over for a kiss, his hand grazing Anne’s thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. “How about we dance like we did on New Year's?” he asks, standing from the seat, shrugging off the red jacket before he extended his hand out to her.

She rolls her eyes, getting up with him anyway. “I told you then, too, that I don’t like dancing.”

“And yet,” he says, pulling her close, his hand finding the small of her back while he presses his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes, “you danced with me all night then, and you got up to dance with me tonight.”

Anne laughs, knowing he was right, burying her face in his shoulder, swearing she heard some camera’s clicking, probably the wedding photographer hanging around somewhere and taking pictures of the guests dancing.

“I know I have to say this about the brides when they come in,” Cale whispers in her ear, “but you are the most beautiful girl here.”

Anne could feel herself blushing, her mind flashing back to New Year’s Eve when Tyson told her she looked beautiful. He seemed so genuine saying it, Anne thinking back and not sure if he meant it or was actually pretending. But with Cale, she knew. Cale meant it. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she tells him, ghosting his lips before kissing him.

Being with Cale felt fine. Not perfect, but fine. It was right, but not correct, and Anne couldn’t figure out why.

Everyone starts clearing off the dance floor, the bridal party getting ready to come in. Cale takes Anne’s hand and leads her back to the table where he left his jacket, some other people finding their home base at the same table. Cale knew one of the men at the table, probably from their little hockey group that involved Izzy’s brother. The bridesmaids and bridesmen, as the DJ put it, started coming in, Cale leaning back with his arm slung around the back of Anne’s chair. She leaned back into him, his fingertips dancing up and down her arm as they watched everyone come in.

They watched Ana and Izzy dance their first one as wives, Anne’s stomach starting to make noise as they waited for the food to come.

Cale leans over, nervous about what he was about to whisper in her ear. “Are you hungry for food or maybe something more?”

Anne felt her entire body go numb at his words. They had been seeing each other for a month and a half already, so was what he was insinuating really that strange of an idea? “That depends.”

“On?” he asks, nibbling on her ear before kissing the skin right behind it, losing any sense of care over who at their table was potentially watching.

“On how long you think we need to wait before we can slip out without it being rude?”

Cale inhaled sharply, wishing he could say right now. “At least until they cut the cake. Unless,” he says, his hand moving up her thigh, slowly in case she decided she wanted it to stop, “Unless you wanted to try to find somewhere to sneak away to now.”

“Not for our first time,” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And not with my family around,” she laughs.

“I’m fine with that,” he tells her, kissing her. “Your place or mine, though?”

“Well, I drove myself here.”

“And I got a ride.”

Anne smiles, crossing her legs in hopes that whatever she felt would be stifled by that simple action. “So it looks like it’s going to be mine.”

They spent the rest of the night waiting for the moment the cake was cut so they could leave as planned, Cale’s hand never leaving her leg unless he really needed both hands to do something.

Anne could feel her heart racing as she watched Ana and Izzy smash their cake in each other’s face, Anne looking over to Cale and smiling. “You wanna go?” she asks, her keys already out of her bag and in her hand.

Cale drags her out without saying a word, Anne leading him to her car. He walks over to the driver’s side, his arms wrapped around her waist with her back pressed against her car. “You’re sure about this?” he asks her, his eyes flicking between hers and her lips.

“Yeah,” she says, kissing him before he opens the door for her. She couldn’t wait to get home, sure she broke a few traffic laws as she sped back to her apartment with Cale sitting next to her in the passenger seat, his leg shaking the entire time.

They got to the elevator, Cale leaning against her against the wall with his lips pressed against hers, Anne’s hands already working to unbutton his shirt. Cale’s kisses trailed down her jaw to her collarbone, his grip tightening on her waist.

Anne pulled away to lead him down the hallway, practically running, partially due to anticipation for what they were about to do, and because Anne could feel a breeze on her back, indicating that Cale had already unzipped her dress. That, coupled with the fact that Cale’s shirt was already open, his jacket in his free hand, Anne had no desire for any of her neighbors to be given the chance to see her and however Cale was to her already getting naked before closing the door.

As soon as she unlocked her door, Cale had her turned back around, kicking the door closed as he carried her to her bedroom, Anne able to feel everything about him against her body. Cale laid her down on her bed, his lips never leaving hers as he positioned himself over her, sliding her dress off while she did the same with his shirt. Anne’s breath hitched at the sight of him, his body perfect while he stared her down, the first time she saw the typically innocent boy she had been seeing with a mischievous grin covering his face, his eyes darkening at the thought of doing what they had both been wanting to do all night.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks one more time.

Anne nods, taking his face in her hands. “Yes, Cale. I’m sure.”

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February 13, 2022

Anne woke up the next morning, the events of the night before rushing back despite finding the space he had occupied in her bed empty. Her dress was on the floor, Cale’s red bowtie somehow having ended up on her night stand. Maybe he left it there as an excuse to see her again, making a mental note to put it in the living room so she would remember it the next time she saw him.

He had slipped out at some point that morning, Anne playing the voicemail that he left her while she slipped on a t-shirt to cover herself. “Hey, Anne. Sorry, I couldn’t stay, but morning skate was calling. I,” she hears him sigh, knowing he had a stupid grin on his face for whatever it was he was about to say, “I can’t wait to have another night like last night with you.”

It was her turn to have the stupid smile on her face as Cale continues, “Um, anyway, I’ve got something going on with JT and some of the other guys tomorrow for Valentine’s Day, a, uh, charity thing? I think? So would you be free this weekend for a proper date for the holiday? You know, not as crowded, not as much pressure, ideally the same outcome, if you’ll allow it? Oh, hey Tyson,” she hears him say, figuring that he was calling her on the way into the rink despite her being unable to hear Tyson. “Yeah, I’m planning Valentine’s Day with Anne. No, not tomorrow night, this weekend. Uh, Anne, I’ve gotta go, but let me know about, say, Friday night? Alright, talk to you later. Bye.”

Valentine’s Day date with Cale? Part two, more like, but still. Anne liked the sound of that.

“So, uh,” Tyson starts, already dreading what he was about to hear from his teammate given what he had heard him say into his phone. “You and Anne?”

“Yeah,” Cale breathes out, chuckling at the thought of what happened last night. “We, um,” Cale couldn’t even get a full sentence out, acting like a child who just got the toy he had been begging his parents for on Christmas morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he was that happy. “We spent the night together last night. I left from her place this morning.”

More of their teammates were filtering into the locker room, looking at Cale’s face turn bright red while Tyson stood there with him looking like he just about wanted to die. “Ok, but did you spend the night, or spend the night?” Ryan asks.

Cale started to stammer out nonsense, not really wanting to divulge the private details of his and Anne’s night despite the guys teasing him and congratulating him for what he wasn’t saying.

“Guys, keep it civil. Anne wouldn’t want us talking about any of this,” Tyson pipes in, Cale letting out a sigh of relief as the guys disperse to get ready for morning skate.

“Thanks,” Cale tells him, going off on his own to get his gear on.

JT appears by Tyson’s side, a stupid smirk on his face. “Would Anne not want us talking about anything, or would you not want us talking about anything?”

“Well, Anne definitely wouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on, we both know Cale would never.”

“Doesn’t mean I want him to have the chance.”

“You’re treading in deep water, dude,” JT sighs.

Tyson looks at him, hating that he knew what he meant. He had barely seen Anne, despite her brother’s texts from the night before asking if Anne really couldn’t watch Harper because of the two of them going out, Tyson going along with the lie just in case. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“It seems like you don’t know what you want from Anne, either,” JT shrugs. “But Cale does, and he got it.”

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February 14, 2022

12 hour shifts were the only shifts Anne knew. And they were the shifts that Anne detested the most. She was fine the first ten hours, but the last two always seemed to suck more than anything, leaving her exhausted for the rest of the day, into the night, depending on when she got home in the first place.

All she wanted to do was order dinner from the Thai place down the street, having it delivered despite her really not needing to since it was within walking distance, plop herself on her couch and watch whatever reality TV Lucy had texted her that she thought Anne would like. Anne knew she would turn it off after a single episode and switch to Food Network, but at least she could tell her sister she tried.

Anne walks to her apartment, dragging her feet to her door when she sees someone sitting on the ground, his head down looking at his phone. “Tyson?”

He gets up, grabbing the two bags he had with him as the smell of food filled her nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my fake girlfriend,” he says, raising the bags while Anne opens the door to let him in.

“I’m confused,” she tells him as he sets everything down.

“Well, Matthew called me on Saturday asking if the two of us were sure we couldn’t watch his daughter, and I figured he might as well have some sort of photographic evidence as proof of us spending Valentine’s Day together,” Tyson explains. “So, I figured I’d go all out: flowers, dinner, and a present. You know, really convince them that we’re together.”

Anne stares at him for a second, not sure why her heart was racing at the thought of him going out of his way to keep up this facade with her family. “I don’t think I like that you and Matthew are so ‘buddy-buddy.’ Or that fact that he didn’t believe me the first two times I told him I was busy on Saturday night. And I thought that you guys had a charity thing tonight?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Tyson asks, handing her the container of food as she joined him on the couch, the Thai food she was planning on ordering right in front of her. “We have a groupchat. Yeah, it’s me, Sebby, Lucy, and Matthew.”

Anne scoffs, rolling her eyes at his failed attempt at a joke. “And let me guess: you gossip about me the entire time.”

“Actually,” he says, his mouth full of food, “you never come up. They think of me as the fourth sibling. The name Anne means nothing.”

Anne laughs, Tyson admiring the way her eyes closed as her smile grew. God, he wished he had gotten to her before Cale did. Why did he have to leave her alone at all on New Year’s Eve? If he were by her side the entire night like he had wanted to be, then he wouldn’t have to pretend to be her boyfriend, he could actually be getting somewhere with her.

“Hm,” Anne hums, swallowing her mouthful of food. “You said flowers and a present. When do I get those?”

“You can get them now on the condition that I can take a video to send to your siblings,” he offers, pulling out his phone and pushing the bag with the flowers and gift behind him. Anne rolls her eyes, smiling and nodding while he starts the video. He hands her the card first. “Read it.”

Anne pulls it out of the envelope, glitter getting everywhere and making her cringe, knowing that it would be impossible to get off her scrubs later on. It was covered with roses and hearts, bringing her right back to the wedding that weekend. “No one has ever made me feel like this. To the woman I love: Happy Valentine’s Day,” Anne reads, feeling a lump forming in her throat. The card was so corny, a little too corny for her taste, but coming from Tyson, she didn’t know why she loved it. She shakes her head, laughing at Tyson. “I love you, too,” she lies.

Tyson swallows hard at her words, wishing she meant them, pulling out the flowers from the bag and handing them to her. She looks down at the flowers, trying to figure out what they are before looking up at him. “Queen Anne’s Lace?”

“Queen Anne’s Lace for my Queen, Anne,” he tells her, cringing at his own words.

Anne giggles, placing them in her lap. “And my favorite flowers, anyway. Thank you, Tyson.”

“Wait, I have one more thing,” he says, hoping that the camera wasn’t shaking too much while he reached for the gift he bought her.

He hands it to her, a small red box wrapped with a gold bow. She unties it carefully, opening the box and gasping at the sight of it. A golden necklace with a white enamel heart as the charm, a golden pattern outlining the heart. “Tyson, it’s,” she starts, unable to find the words, “it’s beautiful.”

He stops the recording, figuring he had enough to hit send to his ‘girlfriend's' siblings. “Let me put it on you,” he says, Anne turning around and moving her hair out of the way. “I thought you would like it.”

Anne studies his face, the smile plastered on it despite her knowing that he didn’t mean it. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugs, grabbing his food off the table and staring at it now in his lap. “It was fun. I’ve never had a girlfriend who I could buy presents like this for. I mean, I still don’t, but I have you.”

“Oh, come on. You, Tyson Jost, have never had a girlfriend? Look at you,” she says, praying that she was careful with the words she chose. “You’re gorgeous, you’re sweet, you’re funny, you get along with everyone you meet.”

Tyson hated hearing Anne go on about him, knowing that she was just saying it as a friend instead of something more. He scoffs, trying to save face from whatever pain or other emotion he was feeling. “Come on,” he says, not believing her anyway.

“I’m serious!” she insists, reaching up and starting to fidget with her new necklace. “Any girl would be lucky to have you as her boyfriend. I’m lucky to even have you as a fake boyfriend.”

Tyson nods, turning his body to face the TV instead of Anne. “So what are we watching?” he asks, changing the subject and putting his feet up on the table, Anne doing the same.

“Whatever’s on Food Network?” she suggests, holding the remote in the air pointed at the TV.

The two of them settle in, Tyson not paying attention to the show she had turned on. “Hey, what’s that?” Tyson asks, racing over to the red fabric that was on Anne’s coffee table.

“Oh,” Anne blushes, taking it from Tyson. “This is Cale’s. He, um, let it the other night,” she explains, Tyson watching her turn his teammates bowtie over in her hands.

“So you and Cale are doing pretty well?” he asks. Anne looks at him, not sure if she really wanted to tell him about it. “Come on, we’re friends. You can talk to me about anything.”

“I mean,” she says, putting down the bowtie on the table, not taking her eyes off of it. “We’re together? I think?” Tyson already hated that he even offered to listen to her talk about her and his teammate. “I like him. A lot. And I know he likes me, but,” Anne lets out a sigh, not sure where to even take her sentence.

“But, what?” Tyson asks.

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, looking confused. “Everything is great, but it’s, I,” she stammers. “Something is off, and I can’t figure out what.”

Tyson stares at her for a second, trying to figure out what to say. “It’s probably just that it’s new,” he shrugs. “Everything seems weird when you’re still figuring it out. You and Cale will be ok,” he tells her, hating hearing those words come out of his mouth.

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February 19, 2022

Anne stared at herself in the mirror, the black turtleneck she borrowed from her sister coupled with a beige skirt and black tights on her as she got ready for her date with Cale. He was bound to show up any minute, promising each other they weren’t going to do gifts due to a general lack of time on both ends. She didn’t believe that he wasn’t going to get her a gift, however, sneaking out to the bakery down the street and buying some pastries that the two of them would like, giving them an excuse to both show up back at her apartment. And if he didn’t give her a gift, then she got the pastries all to herself.

If not, she could share them with Tyson, who had been showing up at her place or asking her to go to his place any free chance they both had.

She heard Cale knocking at her door, Anne rushing as fast as she could in her heels to answer. Cale was standing there, a black crewneck similar to her own turtleneck, paired with dark jeans, black boots, and a grey coat. Cale kisses her hello, one hand behind his back with the other resting on her hip. “Every time I see you I don’t think you could get more beautiful, and yet, you do.”

“You’re cheesy,” she jokes as he kisses her forehead, Cale laughing against her skin. “But you,” Anne says, resting her hands on his chest, “get more handsome every time I see you, too. And, you’re hiding a present behind your back, aren’t you, even though we said no presents.”

Cale laughs, closing the door behind him. “Maybe I saw this and had to get it for you,” he admits, kissing her again and holding up the bag near her head.

“Should I open it now or should I do it later when we come back here?” she flirts, holding the bag in her hand.

“Oh, we’re coming back here?” he teases her, trailing kisses down her neck.

“I might have gotten some dessert for us so we had an excuse to relive last Saturday. Plus, you left your bowtie here,” she gestures to it, still sitting on her table, “And I was thinking maybe you wear that tonight instead of keeping it off?”

Cale raises his eyebrow at her, a silly smile on his face. “And what else would I be wearing?”

Anne shrugs, pretending to act innocent. “I was thinking only the bowtie,” she tells him, feeling his grip around her tighten at the thought.

Cale kisses her again, unable to keep his hands off the girl in front of him. If he could, he would forget dinner altogether and just go straight to dessert, but he knew Anne wasn’t that kind of girl, and he wasn’t about to force her into anything she didn’t want. “Hey, I like that necklace you’re wearing,” he says, twirling the charm around in his fingers. “The heart is perfect for Valentine’s Day.”

She reaches up and takes his hand in hers. “Thanks. My sister got it for me a few years ago for my birthday,” she lies. She couldn’t tell him that Tyson had gotten it for her for Valentine’s Day.

#tyson jost #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #avalanche #avalanche imagine #avalanche fic #tyson and anne

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hellyeahtrickster · 3 years

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It occurs to me that I have friends here that I don't have contact with in other spheres, so ... life update: my mother passed away unexpectedly last Friday. I'm doing as well as one would expect. Been going through her things as both a walk down memory lane and a goodbye. I keep coming across things she never got around to using, and it hits hard that now, she'll never have the chance. And I can't stop thinking of the stories we watched together that now she won't know the ending to, or shows I wanted to try with her. And then there's all the things we used to do together on the regular -- all the places I can never go with her to again. And all the places we wanted to go to "someday", but now she never will.

We were two weeks out from our second COVID shots, and 4 weeks from being totally vaccinated. We were finally going to get back to EPCOT, to see the Flower and Garden show. Finally going to get back to the Florida Mall. Going out to lunch. That I won't be doing this things with her anymore ... it's unfathomable. I can't wrap my head around it.

Thanks, anti-mask / anti-vaccine Covidiots, for prolonging the presence of this pandemic -- basically stealing the last year of my mother's life. She was anxious to see her elderly mother again, because we don't know how long *she* has left ... and now she never go to see her mother again. I knew losing my mom would happen someday, but my mother was relatively young yet, so I thought it would be a while ....

It doesn't help that she died after the second night on a new bed. See, she slept on her side all the time, what with the couch being narrow, but with a twin mattress, the bed was much wider. She snored a lot -- I highly suspect she had sleep apnea. When I found her the next morning, she was on her BACK. The doctor agreed that her cardiac arrest could have been caused by sleep apnea. In trying to make my mom more comfortable .... Yeah, I know, it's not my fault, but I cannot shake that thought away, that she's not here anymore because we tried to do something nice for her. How cruel the humour of the universe can be.

(I'd put the rest of this behind a cut, but I don't see that option anymore? Sorry!!)

And it REALLY doesn't help that, not only have I lost the person I was closest to, but now I am stuck alone with the person I least want to be with: my dad. I'm pretty liberal, and he's pretty conservative. We fight a LOT. We haven't really since mom died (things got a little tense here and there, but not like we usually are) ... but I know it won't last. It can't -- not when he believes BLM are terrorists, or that gays have an agenda. And now he keeps wanting to do things with me, like watch my shows, and a petulant part of me is like, no, this is mom's territory -- stay out. I don't want to do anything with him. (Especially since I know he'll start ranting once the shows start talking about racism and homophobia.)

My parents always had a volatile relationship. Mom didn't know you could get pregnant the first time, and when she found out she was pregnant, her Catholic family bullied her into marrying him.* And he cheated on her at LEAST once (with a girl who was only a few years older than me at the time -- I was 15, she was 19, he was 33). My mother was far from perfect, so I don't blame all the marital problems on him. But my point is they were married "in name only" for about the last 25 years, so it's ... offensive to me now that he would dare to act bereaved.

I know he can be hella manipulative, make himself seem generous so as to be loved, and then turn on you like a viper, getting irrationally angry. I can't drive, we live in a very rural area with no public trans, there are no friends or fam less than an hour away, I've had next to no job for the last 17 years, I barely feel like a functional human being (am coming to seriously suspect I have ADHD and Dyscalculia; I have diabetes and suspect have PCOS and a thyroid problem; all these things having strong interconnections; and I have no insurance, nor do I qualify for aid, thanks to living in Florida), and I feel utterly trapped. There's a reason Rapunzel is my fave princess. I've had bad experiences with cabs, so using Uber / Lyft kind of terrifies me. Plus, he'd want to know where I'm going, and likely either insist on coming too, or insist I can't go, because his house, his money, his rules. The ONLY time each year I get away is when I go to Dragon Con (and I'm worried he might forbid that in the future -- he has once before).

And then there's the problem of ... he has no one. As much as I can't stand him, he lost his job because of COVID, he's lost his wife, he has no real friends (total homebody), and like it or not, he has supported me financially for so long. Even if someone else were to take me in, or I can get a job and save to leave ... how can I leave him (a person with severe rheumatoid arthritis / in not-great health)? I owe him too damn much, and I feel like it would be entirely callous of me. Yes, I realise that that's the abuse talking, but ... it's also true?

Anyway, I feel like I'm on Sliders, and keep stepping into progressively worse timelines.

* Let me mention that I have long suspected my mother is -- was -- on the autism spectrum, but when I mentioned it to one of her sisters, the sister seemed skeptical, saying that if anything, mom had a penchant for reading out loud, so they thought maybe she had a reading disability, and took her to a specialist, but "that's it". (Mom was in "remedial" classes through high school, so it doesn't sound like they did enough -- and maybe couldn't because the science just wasn't there.) I explained that mom frequently seemed to have trouble grasping concepts, especially humour. Like when a radio ad featured someone reciting a love-letter to a tomato, she was all, "That's stupid -- tomatoes can't read!" Try as I might, I could not get her to understand that the love letter was a playful way to tell US about what makes the tomato so good.)

Anyway, when I talked to my grandmother recently, she said that my mom "always had a special way of looking at things," and that she guessed mom was "what do they call it -- neuro-something? 'Aspie'? High-functioning, but still." And I told my cousin about it, and he said, "Wait, I thought it was common knowledge in our family that your mom was autistic?" (Note: we have other, officially diagnosed family members who are on different areas of the spectrum.) People always commented when I was growing up that it was like my mom's role and mine was reversed -- like I was the parent, and she was the child.

But to think my family had *recognised* that something was up, and left me, a child, to deal with it on my own?? To think they *pressured* someone who was "special" into having a child?

I know my mom loved me, but my whole life, she said she wished I'd never been born, and so she'd never have married my dad -- I know both can be true, that she loved me but wished she'd never had me (she'd have never known what she was missing). She only survived her marriage because I was there; I've always felt she'd have had a better life if she hadn't married him. When she tried to leave him, her mother would not take her in, because divorce was against her mother's Catholic beliefs (never mind that my uncle divorced twice)

I loved my mother, but were fought a lot, and she frequently exasperated me as we struggled to communicate. She frequently left words out, but did not believe that she did; when we met her last PCP the first time, he looked at me and said, "Is she always like this, or is she having a stroke?" And she would always angrily proclaim that I wasn't listening, when most of the time, it's that I couldn't get her to understand that she was working from a misconception or misunderstanding in the first place, because she would focus on ONE THING, to the exclusion of all else.

An example of an exchange (copied from a letter I wrote to a friend): We got into a weird argument yesterday. She had asked me for pain reliever, a glass of tap water (you're supposed to drink a full glass of water with the pills), and a "cold water" from the fridge (it's too cold to drink it all at once, but we both prefer ice water in general). Later, I was picking stuff up from her table-tray, including a bottle of pain reliever, and put a bunch of stuff away. When I passed by again, she asked for more cold water. I happened to look as see that she had the tap water glass still full, even though she had asked tor it half an hour before. I asked if I needed to bring the pain pill bottle back, because she hadn't drunk the tap water yet -- had I taken the pill bottle too soon, or had she forgotten to drink the water? She was all, "no, I said I need COLD water!" I said I knew that, and I would bring it; I was just asking of she had taken her pills already, or if I needed to bring the pill bottle back too. Her (again): "I said I need COLD WATER!" Me: "I know, and I will bring that -- I just want to know why you haven't drunk the tap water yet? Did you take your pills?" Her: "No, I'll take them at bed!" Me: "So I should bring back the pill bottle? Did I put it away too early?" Her: "YOU DON'T LISTEN! I SAID I NEED COLD WATER!" Me: "And I said I will bring that -- I'm just asking if you also need your pain pills?" Her: "You already took the bottle!! Did you forget that already?"

And then I finally spotted the white pain pills on the napkin under the tap-water glass, so I knew that no, I didn't need to bring it. But it's a frequent struggle to figure out how to phrase questions so I get the answer I need -- nearly every time, I get her screaming at me that I don't listen.

She loved me, but she was never mothering. She hated to be touched, so never hugged me; I was pretty touch-starved. I learned to read because she was a very slow reader when reading me stories; I got impatient and learned to do it for myself. She couldn't help me with my homework. She resented having to take me to school recitals and science fairs. She wasn't someone I could get advice from. I admit I was often envious of characters who had physically-loving, compassionate, wise mother-figures (who weren't so binary about morality -- and so weren't always screaming that this or that character should die, no matter how small the transgression).

But I wish she were still here to frustrate me -- that's so much better than not having her at all. And I wish I had been better at keeping my temper.

She was an atheist, and firm in that belief. Maybe she's right, or maybe her firm belief is affecting me, because I would dream frequently about others I have loved and lost, and swear I feel them, but with her ... nothing. Just a gaping hole in the fabric of my waking life, threatening to suck all the light and hope into it.

#mine #rant #personal #tw: death #cw: death #the death of my mom #my mom

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alarriefantasy · 5 years

Note

Do you have any historical recs?? I love Victorian era but I’ll take really anything. Thank you!

I have been wanting to do this one for a while, glad you asked me!!! :) Here you go, darling!! :)

Historical Fic Rec

Summer Starlight by LadyLondonderry

Words: 3k

Only of three things is Harry Styles certain of. First, that this is his first summer in the large city and he must make the most of it. Second, that his parents are pledging to have him married off to a wealthy benefactor by the end of the summer. Third, and this is most important of all, Harry doesn’t particularly care for the notion. In fact, he rather has his eye on a very different sort of prospect.

We Gotta Get Away From Here by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 4k

Or a Royal AU where Prince Harold needs saving and Louis is his Knight in shining armor…sort of.

We Never Said Our Love Was Evergreen by PumpkinspiceLou

Words: 9k

OR A Victorian Masquerade Ball AU where Harry is basically the Phantom of the Opera

A Rose, By Any Other Name by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 10k

Louis Tomlinson is the head of New York City’s mafia, and Harry is the beautiful boy from Texas who falls in with the wrong crowd (which turns out to be the right crowd).

lead me out on the moonlit floor by scrunchyharry

Words: 12k

Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who’s only confident when he’s wearing a mask.

all i trust, i leave my heart to by prettyoddnjh

Words: 13k

Salzburg, Austria. 1938.

Harry Styles is a young man who, despite his protests, will never be a Catholic priest. He is assigned a summer job as a governor for the six siblings of Mr. Tomlinson, a wealthy ex-navy soldier who runs his household like a navy ship. They fall in love.

The Sound of Music AU that a couple people did ask for, if you can believe it.

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) by indiaalphawhiskey

Words: 16k

Palace of Versailles.

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

Our Stable Heart by Arora

Words: 30k

Louis Tomlinson had it all. A beautiful mansion in the country-side of London, a well known job in the heart of downtown, and a lovely fiance he would soon marry…But what happens when Louis’ world is turned upside down just from gazing into a pair of dreamy, green eyes?

Something Louis could never have imagined himself…

Our Sweetest Memorial by messofgorgeouschaos

Words: 34k

Ever since Harry was forced to break off an engagement five years ago, he resolved to never marry for the remainder of his life. Now his family must move out of his beloved Kellynch Hall to recover some of their debts that their father had accumulated. The last thing Harry expected was for the new tenants to be related to his former fiancee. And for that fiancee to come back to Somersetshire a much more wealthy man that still holds resentment for their past. A Persuasion AU.

Along The Heather by noellehenry

Words: 35k

Jane Eyre AU/Victorian AU

Orphaned Harry Styles grows up with his cruel aunt and cousins, before he is sent away to a boys’ boarding school, which teaches poor and orphaned boys. Even though his aunt tries to undermine Harry’s experience at the school, he does well in school, and stays on at the school as a teacher after he graduates.

When he becomes restless after significant changes at the school, he applies for a job as a tutor at Thorgill Hall, teaching the younger brother of Mr. Louis Tomlinson. Harry develops romantic feelings for his pupil’s brother…

Thorgill Hall,however, holds a secret; it’s becoming slightly more eerie every day and when his life is threatened, Harry makes a drastic decision…

I Sail With You by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 35k

Against his wishes, Omega Prince Harry Styles is arranged to mate with someone he doesn’t love, much less knows. Though he pleaded to his parents incessantly, they not only refuse to comply but force him to depart on a ship days later. Harry prays for fate to step in, to change what’s to come, however, the answer he is given is not exactly in the form he had hoped.

Enter Will Tommo – deadliest pirate captain of all seven seas.

If I Loved You Less by allwaswell16

Words: 36k

Beautiful omega Louis Tomlinson is set to make his come out in London society and determined to find a mate in his first Season. With the help and protection of his oldest friend, Lord Niall Mendes, he takes Society by storm.

Being a wealthy and titled alpha means Lord Harry Styles has grown used to avoiding unmated omegas…until now. This Season he finds himself at every Society event just for a chance to speak with the omega with the flashing blue eyes.

Louis has the aristocracy at his feet and all the suitors he could hope for, but his secrets may ruin his chance at a love match.

All The King’s Men by sacredheart (orphan_account)

Words: 39k

Louis is an arrogant, self assured prince who falls in love with a charming thief named Harry during his youth. However, years later, a revolution is sparked amongst the frustrated commoners… and Louis’s former teenage romance is leading it.

Fool For You by flowercrownfemme, qupecupid

Words: 46k

In which Harry is a brooding prince who’s scarcely smiled since the death of his mother and Louis is the dashing jester hired to change that.

keep this love in a photograph by suspendrs

Words: 48k

Or, it’s 1919, and Harry’s been falling in love with his best friend for his entire life.

the last person on earth i could ever marry by igotfeels

Words: 50k

A Pride and Prejudice AU, where Harry is fed up with rich men and Mr Tomlinson is a very rich man.

For the Sake of Propriety by panda_bear21

Words: 52k

Louis Tomlinson is the caretaker of an estate that is not truly his, and when his Uncle calls upon him to take it back, Louis knows he will soon be out on the streets with four overly zealous sisters to care for. His only solution: wed the eldest two off and pray for the best. When an even better solution unexpectedly presents itself in the form of the charming Mr. Styles, Louis is faced with a difficult choice. But as with all things in the regency era, reputation very well may threaten to outweigh the fleeting matters of his heart.

Paint The Sky With Stars by kiwikero

Words: 62k

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

Liberté by larriebane

Words: 64k

AU. 1647. “Pretending you don’t have a heart is not the best way to not get it broken. It’s just the easiest.”

Lend Me Your Hand by QuickedWeen

Words: 63k

Society has long since decided that the soulmarks everyone is born with are entirely unfashionable. They’re just another way for people of a lower class to scam their way into marrying above their station.

Lord Louis Tomlinson, Viscount Loring, on the other hand, has always believed that he will find his soulmate one day. Despite preparing for a match his whole life, he is entirely unprepared for the arrival of Gemma Styles’ younger brother.

Harry Styles has been traveling and away from society for over a year. Coming back, he intends to spend time with his sister, and slowly reacquaint himself with life in town. He doesn’t need to wait around for a soulmark to determine how his life will play out.

Such Good Luck by casuallyhl

Words: 66k

Or, an Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

Si Pudiera Volar by messofgorgeouschaos

Words: 68k

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis (domesticharry)

Words: 79k

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Coax the Cold by MediaWhore

Words: 86k

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Victorian Boy by DonnaHaywardsHead

Words: 101k

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis’ bed. But when secrets from Louis’ dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn’t the only one being hunted.

A Taste of Desire by casuallyhl

Words: 104k

Or, a Victorian ABO where Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

The Florentine Letters by forreveries

Words: 118k

The edge of summer has just begun to dawn over the university campus, exams are almost over and the dust is just beginning to settle over the desks.Harry Styles, in the last years of his PHD study of The Renaissance, has managed to maintain a safe existence within the walls of his books and classes and late night romances. He’s made a place that’s safe from the expectations of high brow society and the cold stare of his father.That is, until an all too sharp, all too witty, and all too handsome man walks into his life.Louis, the cocky man with the smile, brings with him a strange object - declaring that it’s a puzzle piece from the one and only Leonardo Da Vinci. He speaks of age old mysteries, and puzzles that cannot be solved without Harry’s help. Immediately, Harry is quite literally swept off his feet, and together they take their chances on the find of a life time - Da Vinci’s lost works.But what Louis doesn’t mention is the high stakes game of cat and mouse that comes with chasing things that do not belong to you. A game where nothing, and no one, is as they seem.

credit to the owner of the manip

updated 07.21.2019

#ask

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lligkv · 5 years

Text

many are called, few are chosen

Until I picked up The Razor’s Edge on a sale rack at Moe’s Books in Berkeley, W. Somerset Maugham was an author I’d known only as a name. The book sat on my shelf for a few weeks after I bought it, too. I didn’t feel any particular pull to it, and the list of books I have to read always outstrips my capacity. But when I did finally start it, I read Maugham’s comment that “Even so subtle and careful an observer as Henry James, though he lived in England for forty years, never managed to create an Englishman who was through and through English,” and I knew I was in for something good.

The Razor’s Edge centers on a couple, Laurence Darrell and Isabel Bradley, who break their engagement over their entirely different visions of life. Isabel wants a conventionally wealthy one; Larry, a war veteran who watched a good friend die for his sake, aims to leave society to discover what’s truly meaningful. The narrator, also named Maugham, tracks them as they pass in and out of each other’s life trajectories in the years after. He also tracks others in Isabel and Larry’s orbit: Gray Maturin, son of the businessman Henry Maturin, who also loved Isabel and wins her when Isabel and Larry decide to part ways; and Elliott Templeton, Isabel’s uncle, the brother of her mother Louisa, a dilettante and social butterfly who’s also a friend of Maugham’s.

Elliott often comes off ridiculous or outright irritating for his sociality—say, his determination unto his death to be invited to all the gayest parties in Paris, London, and the French Riviera, far past the time others in his social circle are willing to grant him dignity—and the determination with which he cleaves to the mores of that circle, as when he continually steers Isabel toward Gray because Larry continues to refuse to get a job for reasons Elliott can’t discern, “loafing” and losing himself in books instead. Maugham nevertheless regards Elliott with real affection, because he recognizes that under Elliott’s trivial shell lies real kindness. One pleasure of The Razor’s Edge is just how perceptive Maugham as writer-narrator is, always seeing both sides of everything and everyone. Isabel often seeks Maugham’s counsel both before her split with Larry and after, when he returns from his long sojourns in Europe and India. And while Maugham’s ultimate judgment of her—as lacking tenderness—proves too much for her to take, she admits several times that what he thinks of her means a great deal to her.

Indeed, what to think of Isabel? Initially she’s young, loving, yet clear-eyed. She’s patient with Larry, gently pushing past Elliott and Louisa’s concern with the time he’s taking to commit to her, or to a job, or to anything. As it becomes clear that what Larry’s going through isn’t just a phase, and she won’t get the life she’s used to with him, she breaks the engagement. She’s not without ambivalence about it—as she tells Maugham, “I know that I’m not playing the star part in this.” She also knows she’s the one who’d suffer for Larry’s genius. What’s more, as Maugham points out, there’s no guarantee Larry’s desires will amount to anything:

Years ago, when I was young, I knew a man who was a doctor, and not a bad one either, but he didn’t practice. He spent years burrowing away at the library of the British Museum and at long intervals produced a huge pseudo-scientific, pseudo-philosophical book that nobody read and that he had to publish at his own expense. He wrote four or five of them before he died and they were absolutely worthless. He had a son who wanted to go into the army, but there was no money to send him to Sandhurst, so he had to enlist. He was killed in the war. He had a daughter too. She was very pretty and I was rather taken with her. She went on the stage, but she had no talent and she traipsed around the provinces paying small parts in second-rate companies at a miserable salary. His wife, after years of dreary, sordid drudgery, broke down in health and the girl had to come home and nurse her and take on the drudgery her mother no longer had the strength for. Wasted, thwarted lives and all to no purpose. It’s a toss-up when you decide to leave the beaten track. Many are called, but few are chosen.

That last line haunts me. As a writer, I feel like one of the called. I fear I’m not one of the chosen.

And next to that, wouldn’t it be wiser to be an Isabel. Who does get what she wants when she marries Gray Maturin: the chance to travel, the chance to enjoy herself, children and a stable life. At least until the depression hits and Gray loses everything.

The years pass. In time, the five—Maugham, Isabel, Gray, Larry, and Elliott—reconnect in Paris. Elliott lives there; Isabel and Gray join him for a time to rally their funds and health; Maugham and Larry arrive at their bachelors’ leisure. Once there, the group runs into Sophie Macdonald, a childhood friend of Isabel, Larry, and Gray who, having lost her husband and child, has become utterly dissipated. Larry becomes determined to save Sophie. Isabel feels nothing but contempt for her, and fear Larry will be ruined.

It’s as though as Sophie’s star rises in Larry’s universe, Isabel’s star in the novel falls. She’s become crude. When she originally rejected Larry, it was because she simply wanted a conventional life, not because she felt contempt for those who didn’t lead such lives—in fact, she knew then Larry was one to admire. As an adult, on the other hand, she goes so far as to set a bottle of Polish liquor Elliott’s gifted her out in the drawing room specifically to tempt Sophie into drinking and falling back into her old life, out of Larry’s. Conventional culture coarsens people. It takes away their ability to make their own choices and to let others make theirs. You go so far into the role you play, like high-society wife, that you lose all self-awareness. Indeed, you have to bury any awareness of the nobler life to subsist in your social one. And Isabel’s has been buried so far she can’t see the spiritual valence of Larry’s attachment to Sophie. She’s no longer willing to dignify his desire or his choice. She can see only the social ruin—never mind that Larry doesn’t really have any social capital to speak of at this point; there’s no ruin to defend against. Whatever tenderness was once in her—whatever human feeling and spiritual sensitivity—is gone.

The sensitivity remains in Larry. Who’s something of a saint figure, if less like Christ than the stereotype of the Eastern sage that you could write about in Maugham’s day. As Maugham puts it, he’s possessed of a passion for self-sacrifice that “whirls the victim to destruction in the highest affirmation of his personality.”

He’s also, as you might expect, a figure of doubt. The question that occupies him is “a basic question, but an eternal one: “If an all-good and all-powerful God created the world, why did He create evil?” Why did God allow a war that took his friends’ lives; why did God create humans with spiritual voids that drive them as Larry himself is driven? And if God made humans to be capable of sin, like Sophie with her drinking, why does he fault them for demonstrating that capacity?

After the conclusion of the Sophie Macdonald affair, the drama of Larry and Isabel’s relationship falls away; the question of God becomes the novel’s most pressing. Maugham also tags the chapter in which he and Larry have their deepest conversation about God as nonessential—and indeed the novel could stand fine without it. But it’s Razor’s secret heart. Larry’s ultimate argument in that chapter, as he reveals to Maugham what happened during his five years in India, is:

In the West, the structures of faith are elaborate (e.g., the Catholic church) and faith itself is tortured and ambivalent. In the East—again, speaking broadly—faith is lived; its structures are woven into daily life. Essentially, history’s spiral spins, over and over, into all time; we’re caught up, we live and die, in its churn. We don’t contemplate the churn until something like war brings us face to face with its reality. When you’re confronted by the nature of life in this way, you can either fashion a philosophy in which there is a God in charge of it all and fear of this God and obedience to Him give you a door out of this world and into Heaven. Or you can live your life in such a way that you might be able to renounce earthly life and exit the spiral of reincarnation or repetition for all time.

It’s an age-old opposition, nothing new, and Larry’s foray into Hinduism does feel like an orientalist answer to the question of occidental faith. But I think it’s hard to deny the appeal that non-duality—the idea that the mind and the body, the self and the world that surrounds it, are not separate; that all that is is “awareness”—can have for philosophically dualist societies and belief systems predicated upon Cartesian conceptualizations of the mind and body: the materialist idea of a concrete, distinct self tied to each body, which interacts with a world outside of it, that persists despite it.

Larry’s contention seems to be that in non-dual traditions, questions like “why did God create evil, or make evil possible?” can be answered—the answer being that there is no God who creates this evil or can save you from an original sin that’s intrinsic to your being, and nor is there any such sin. There is simply an Absolute from which the stuff that is your eternal soul is descended, to live out temporal loops of incarnation—as many as it takes to live a life free of misdeeds. And it falls upon you, in your soul’s current manifestation, to live in such a way that you might earn an exit from these loops—a return to the Absolute.

How do I feel about Larry’s argument? I can imagine that the idea that no evil really exists is comforting when you’ve witnessed something that’s otherwise entirely aberrant, senseless, unconscionable, like a person you love being blown to bits in front of you. Even if the other possible answer—that evil exists, and you’ve just witnessed it—seems just as plausible to me.

And while I’m sympathetic to Larry’s desire for truth. I don’t know that non-duality is where I’d find it. Or traditional religion, for that matter. I don’t consider the question of sin in terms of the state of one’s soul pressing. I consider the question of sin in terms of wrongs and harm done to others pressing. And something about the former way of thought feels a little self-absorbed to me—as though you’re interested in spiritual truth because of what it might mean for you, as opposed to what it might help you do, how it might help you minimize the harm to others that you might commit if you didn’t think in terms of right or wrong and about what’s ethical and what’s not.

But I say all this as a product of my particular historical moment. As I read The Razor’s Edge, my own distance from essential questions of goodness and evil felt very clear. I don’t know that I could imagine a Larry Durrell type living in 2019. I came to wonder if living in late-capitalist liberal democracy, post-religion, has robbed me of a capacity for deep moral or spiritual investigation like Maugham’s (or Graham Greene’s, another very moral writer I’ve read quite a bit of lately). After all, I too live in interesting times, times whose questions are full of moral stakes. (E.g., you live in a world that’s capable of separating migrant children from their families, keeping people who are blameless for their own conditions penned in arbitrary borders and denying them the right to live where they please based on the contingent fact of their citizenship. Do you participate in this world? How?) But—and I realize how self-indulgent this sounds; what the times I live in mean for my art is hardly the most relevant question I ought to be asking about them—I don’t seem able to write anything of real depth about the times in which I live. Let alone come up with substantive answers to any of my moral questions.

After I finished this novel, I came to think: maybe religion gives you the terms for a moral understanding of the world. And when you’re shaped by conditions that don’t mandate a faith—when the structures of your world are entirely liberal-democratic, or commercial, and not moral in any way—and you live a pretty safely bourgeois life, and you are not driven through an experience, like the war that Larry Durrell survives, that sends cracks through those conditions and reveals how contingent they are and the depths of human suffering that their prosperity can obscure—you become complacent. No questions like the ones that inform this novel ever occur to you.

Or rather, by the time that the things you’ve gotten used to break down, revealing the questions that you thought the End of History had rendered moot, you’re left with no sense of what the answers to those questions might be, and only the most unfit tools to find them.

#literary #books #novels #w. somerset maugham #the end of history #religion vs. secularity

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foofygoldfish · 6 years

Text

deputy alice riley

Soooooooooo this is gonna be long, but it’s pretty much anything you could ever want to know about alice lol

her full name is Claire Alice Riley, though she pretty much only goes by Alice. Staci calls her Allie, and she haaates it.

She was born in Falls End on October 30th, 1992.

Her face claim is Anya Taylor-Joy, just shorter (5′) and with pink hair. She naturally has dark brown hair, though when her hair isn’t pink, she dyes it blonde.

Her childhood in Fall’s End was fairly average - her sister was annoying (Jane was the designated babysitter, and hated it), so was her brother (he loved frogs and spiders, she… didn’t; though she got him back by her loving snakes and him being terrified of them, which is still true), her parents were happily married. The car crash happened after a Girl Scout’s meeting (the troop disbanded not long after, but not because of the crash) that her dad picked her up from. She came out with a broken arm and a concussion, but that was it. She doesn’t really remember much from the few hours before or after the crash. A few years after, the Sheriff had Jane (who had custody at this point) send her and Caleb to California, where her aunt and uncle were her legal guardians. Her uncle is a chef for big events, so he had weird hours, but they were able to live comfortably and (to Alice’s amazement, Caleb’s disdain) to have passes to Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm. Her aunt works in the industry and travels a lot, but both of them tried to be home more for the first few weeks after the twins moved in. The twins were both involved with theatre, but Caleb is the one with the real acting talent - Alice thought about being a voice actor, but it’s more of a hobby for her than anything.

Her family owns the Fall’s End Garage - she’s not the best at the mechanical side of running the shop, but she’s pretty good at running the business side of things. She wanted to ban peggies from the shop, but Jane wouldn’t let her.

Lives in the house behind the garage in Fall’s End - it was her parents, her sister kept it after she moved in with her then-boyfriend - she didn’t want to stay, but nobody was really looking to buy houses at that point, so she boarded it up for the twins. Jane joined after the house was “given” to Alice, so the house was fine.

She misses LA like crazy, especially once winter hits. She loves having rainy days again, but ten years of no winter? Her dream.

Her brother, Caleb, thinks the testy festy is hilarious, and after everything is over, is so mad that he missed it. Alice doesn’t agree with him. At all.

She’s technically Catholic - she was baptised, went to her first communion, and then pretty much stopped going to church. She goes to Pastor Jerome’s masses for the comfort and traditions when she moves back, but she doesn’t really believe.

She loves being on the water. She prefers surfing and kayaking, but adapts to the lakes and rivers of Hope County quickly. She’s not a huge fan of fish, but she starts to like fishing at some point. She definitely prefers it to hunting, and if given the choice, will definitely go fishing.

Speaking of hunting... Alice has a habit of darting off into a field of bliss when she’s bored hunting in the Henbane. She doesn’t actively do drugs, and doesn’t want to be an angel, but... She gets bored. And has impulse issues sometimes.

The Seeds tease/taunt her because of her height - she doesn’t even come up to Jacob’s shoulder, which I also think is kinda hilarious lol. Staci used to tease her too, but the entire department learned not to/were told by Whitehorse to stop (unless she can’t reach something and she doesn’t have anything to climb on)

When everything’s done, she helps Grace open up a little cafe. There’s plenty of people to help run it, and she thinks that (after a nice vacation) it would be good for Grace, and eventually Jess as well.

The Sheriff forces her to take a vacation after everything. She tries to go back to just being the Junior Deputy, but she gets roped into continuing to help the resistance. She pretty much takes over Virgil’s responsibilities as mayor, and helps to set up a small school for the few kids left in the county.

If you’ve seen Wynonna Earp - she has the same blue and white truck as Wynonna. She came back to Fall’s End with her little electric car, but that isn’t really feasible to keep using, so she took it up to Missoula one day and sold it. The salesman tried to sell her a fancy new truck, but she was happy with the one Jane had kept for her.

Most called gun for hire: Jess and Grace. She’s not the best at being sneaky, and her eyes aren’t the best for sniping (she had an optometrist appointment for a week after the initial mission, she obviously missed it), so she almost has one or both of them with her. When she needs to just fuck shit up, she’ll call Sharky, though

She started at the sheriff’s office as a secretary - it was a job, and she’d be able to look after her sister (“who didn’t need looking after” but there had been some fainting spells), and then after Hudson’s partner died, Whitehorse told her that she could apply for the role, and she took him up on that.

If she did join the cult, she’d have a fairly nondescript position - probably something administrative, as that’s what her degree is in. Definitely something behind the scenes and non-violent.

Fucking loves disaster movies. She’s a slut for disaster movies. Like, she’ll sit through all the shitty SyFy channel ones as well as the big budget ones (San Andreas is one of her favorites - it’s so cheesy, but it has Dwayne Johnson and Alexandra Daddario, AND GIANT FUCKIN EARTHQUAKES. And the guy from Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries who is a total teddy bear)

She doesn’t really like planes or helicopters - if they are needed, she’ll get Nick or Addie. She knows enough to take off and land, but she’ll avoid flying herself if at all possible. The mission where Kim has her take Carmina and blow up peggie supplies? Fucking terrifying.

She rock climed and did some parkour back in LA. She didn’t keep up with it when she moved, but it obviously comes in handy...

Alice has two cats: Crookshanks and Data. They are both huge Norwegian forest cats, Crookshanks is an orange tabby, and Data is a grey tabby. When she’s not home, Mary May happily takes care of them.

She has a shitton of anxiety problems. She had a decent supply of meds when shit went down.

She has a major panic attack after driving Nick and Kim to the clinic. Even without the shit all over the road, she was terrified that she would crash and hurt or kill the Ryes.

Relationships:

Jane - She’s 8 years older than Alice. Alice absoultely does not approve of her relationship with John, and is horrified when she finds out that her sister married the fucker.

Caleb - Both of them are horrible at keeping in contact, so he’s not worried at all when she goes off the radar.

Joseph - She thinks he’s full of shit lol

John - Direct quote from when she’s told her sin is wrath: “No, it’s not wrath, it’s I fucking hate you.” Once they’re able to laugh about it, Hudson doesn’t let her live that down.

Faith - Uh, she obvs thinks Faith is the cutest. She has a hard time keeping her sass to an angry level, rather than super flirty.

Jacob - They fucked. After the Rye’s barbeque with the infamous watery mac n cheese. I still haven’t figured out why? She hates him now, and absoultely regrets the one night stand (...mostly. She thinks.)

Mary May - Her childhood best friend. They tried to keep in contact after Alice moved, but they eventually both moved on - Alice with new friends in LA, Mary May with helping to run the bar.

Pastor Jerome - He doesn’t mind that she isn’t a practicing Catholic, and welcomes her with open arms. She tries to get people to go to his church again after everything, to mixed levels of success.

Dutch - She’s not a huge fan of him, but she’s grateful for his help, and he is grateful for what she does and how she helps Jess.

Eli - He can’t reconcile the image of the Junior Deputy and the Alice he knows in his head - she doesn’t act anything like the rumors flying around the county, but he loves her (as a friend).

Tracey - They don’t get along very well - it’s a very strained, very professional relationship. Tracey knows that Alice likes Faith, and is very worried that she’ll be too soft on her.

Virgil - She loves his pins, which makes her super cool in his book. They quickly become friends, and he becomes a sorta mentor to her before his death.

Nick and Kim - Nick finds it hilarious that she hates planes so much, and he only uses it to tease her sometimes. Nick quickly becomes like an older brother to her, and she spoils Baby Rye rotten after she’s born.

Adelaide - Also amused by Alice’s feelings on flying, but doesn’t bring it up often as Alice was a frequent visitor to the marina before shit went down. Adelaide doesn’t understand Alice’s crush on Faith, but she will tease her about it (as long as Alice doesn’t defect).

Grace - The two met once before Grace’s parade, and then again at Alice’s dad’s funeral. They get along pretty well, and Alice always has her with her when liberating outposts or doing anything that requires her to have good vision.

Hurk - He drives her insane. She thinks he’s funny, and a really nice guy, but he��s so loud.

Sharky - On the other hand, she loves Sharky. She teases him about the time he puked on Grace every time he mentions having an upset stomach. They’ve drunkenly kissed a few times, but they both try and act like it didn’t happen.

Jess - In the main story? Her girlfriend by the end of the game. Jess teaches her how to hunt properly, even though Alice hates it. Jess joins in her teasing of Sharky about the puking. She hates it when Jess uses the fire arrows - Sharky and Hurk already set her clothes on fire, she doesn’t need it from her super-stealthy person! At the end of everything, she tries to convince Jess to play video games (instead of killing people), to some but not much success.

Relationship wise: They start off with drunken kisses, then one night stands, and then realise that the amount of one night stands (and nights when they fall asleep together) they have mean they’re kinda girlfriends.

Fangs - She sleeps with Boomer in her bed every night, despite her cats protests. She’ll cuddle with Peaches and Cheeseburger when it’s cold and she’s outside, but it’s a little harder to get the two of them inside the house.

Marshal Burke - She thinks he’s a decent person, a little egotistical, but decent. She’s super shocked when he shoots himself.

Whitehorse - He’s part of the reason she starts to not mind fishing. He’s her surrogate dad, and has been looking out for her since her dad died. They’re both relieved to see each other after the crash.

Hudson - She’s not too sure about Alice at first, but she quickly becomes protective of the “city girl,” and willingly does all of the night driving.

Staci - Her brother’s ex-best friend (for the same reasons as with Mary May). She didn’t really get past “I tolerate you” until the events of the game. After he’s rescued, they become platonic cuddle buddies, even after he starts his thing with Stella. They both agree to not tell Caleb exactly what happened to both of them.

#deputy alice riley #oh lordy this is longer than i anticipated and i still cut out half of what i have in the word doc #apologies to anyone on mobile

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stevedonnellyfaith-blog · 5 years

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Family Gatherings (Post 118) 12-2-15

About two months ago Pam's mother Barb let me know about that Pam's Aunt Patty was planning a family reunion for the Saturday after Thanksgiving and asked us if we would be able to make it down. I told her we would attend as my social calendar is as empty as the state of Wyoming in a spring snow storm. I think my next semi-firm appointment is my brother's retirement from the Navy this spring. I don't count the plant Christmas party because really that is business.

I will probably attend that as well, as my office mate has solemnly promised me that he will not twerk this year. Several people have offered to provide me with video clips of his outstanding performance last year, but I am a "no twerking none of the time" type of guy. Anyway I guess I have a few things I will be going to this holiday season, but a trip down to Maryland sounded like a good way for Natalie to get to meet more of Pam's family than she has gotten to see since we migrated back East.

Although Abby had made plans to spend Thanksgiving with her friend Tyler in New York City, she arranged her schedule so that she could catch a bus down to Baltimore on Friday morning. As usual, she had everything about her week in New York and the transit south to meet up with the rest of the family planned down to a tee. Nicholas also performed to his consistent level of planning efficiency by forgetting to ask off from work at O'Reilly's Auto Parts but that was serendipitous for me as his oversight freed me from having to kennel the two dogs that my middle children conned me into allowing them to purchase nearly two years ago. One of the two critters is actually lying on my legs and gnawing on a raw hide product as I am typing.

So everything about the trip to Maryland went smoothly unless you count the text message that I got almost immediately after leaving my Ohio house. It was from Tyler who let me know Abby's schedule because Abby had left her phone accidentally in Tyler's dormitory room and was headed to Baltimore incommunicado - something no normal person has considered doing on purpose since 2005. Unfortunately for Abby, I had goofed off that morning and slept in late enough so that my vector was trailing her now silent arrival into the greater Baltimore area by several hours. Luckily, Barb was able to coordinate an effective meetup without the need of cellular communication. I wasn't all that disturbed as the rendezvous was in broad daylight at the White Marsh park-and-drive which, in no way, resembles the hood.

Stephen, Natalie and I arrived at Barb's house a few hours later to find Abby and Denny, Pam's father, binge watching some type of post zombie apocalypse martial arts cable series of which I had never heard. Abby had planned to stay at the house with Denny, Barb, Pam's brother and his son. She wanted to do what she could to cheer up Denny who was recovering from shoulder surgery and has been feeling out of sorts. In retirement Denny likes to keep busy but physical activity does not mix well with a shoulder sling. My father-in-law looked quite pleased to have his granddaughter handy for watching what looked to me to be the modern equivalent of a spaghetti western.

The rest of us, on the other hand, were scheduled to stay with Pam's uncle Johnnie, a retired probation officer who lives alone in the old house that his father had built for the family fifty or sixty years previous. Johnnie gets a kick out of Natalie and Abby, but was quite satisfied to have at least one of them under his roof, which is located about twenty minutes away and within a couple of minutes' drive of the family plot where Pam is buried along with her grandparents. We met up with Johnnie at one of Pam's sisters' houses located another twenty minutes from Pam's folk's house in another direction entirely. Pam's Baltimore-centric immediate family does a Friday night post-Thanksgiving left-over pot luck that was quite enjoyable. Plates cleared, we trailed behind Uncle Johnnie, or UJ as the kids call him, back towards his Hanover, MD abode after the dinner broke up.

I stayed up a while talking with him after Natalie shuffled off to her guest bedroom. Stephen and I were sleeping in the living room. I enjoy talking to Johnnie as he and I share many interests. His politics are more conservative than mine and he prefers the Latin Mass only while I am more Catholic with respect to my Catholic masses, but we both share a love for military history. With regard to the Civil War, he likes the gentility of the Gray while I prefer the idealism of the Blue. I am forever a Yankee in all respects other than baseball, but Johnnie and I appreciate each other's opinion. We also share an unspoken camaraderie as circumstances have turned both of our lives into sometimes lonely but not morose slogs in the footprints of those who have preceded us towards and though the veil to eternal life.

We woke up relatively late, breakfasted and made a quick stop at the cemetery for a visit with Pam and her grandparents before heading to the family reunion on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Natalie was pleased that her memorial stones painted as a butterfly and hamburger were still in the same positions on the graves where she had left them in September. Some poor soul had pilfered the bronze vase from the marker assembly of Pam's grandmother, but Johnnie was already aware of the desecration and seemed resigned to the fact that we live among a generation of grave robbers.

After a short visit and no tears we began a much longer car trip than I expected to where Barb's other sibling, Patty, now resides. Her husband, a twice retired cop - formerly a barracks commander for the State Police and then a County Sherriff - has now found work in an unelected second-in-command at the Sherriff's office of a county that is very close to a place called Ocean City that I had heard of but never visited. I believe that Ocean City is a Maryland equivalent of the Jersey Shore without as much swearing and orange toner. That might be an inaccurate characterization as I am a rank amateur with respect to Maryland cultural studies.

The journey did include a fly-by of Annapolis, my stomping ground several decades previous, but mostly the drive broke new ground for me. I am sure that I probably have been across the Bay Bridge - Chesapeake version, but I didn't really remember the road or the scenery. I did notice a definite improvement in how property was maintained in the towns of the Eastern Shore in comparison with some of the Baltimore neighborhoods we had driven through the previous day. Things appeared conservatively well-kept if not crazy wealthy and the drive was a pleasant one. I was just glad that the reunion was not planned for the summer as there seemed to be only one main drag, Route 50, which probably would be grossly inadequate for the onslaught of weekend beachcombers if we were visiting in the last days of July instead of the final November weekend.

Once we arrived, we enjoyed the party although we found the festivities slightly divided along family lines as many reunions tend to be. Patty's relatives tended to congregate in the living room and sun room of the house, while her husband's relations mostly conversed in the kitchen and family room. It was a natural division and an amicable one. I had joined the family over a quarter century pervious and had encountered a couple of Scott's extended family members less than a handful of times.

I caught up with the lives of those few that I knew, but mostly played wingman for Johnnie when I wasn't conversing with Abby. Natalie played with the pack of collective kiddies, while Stephen wandered around the yard which had little bit of a beachhead on a creek-side location that let into a river then into the Chesapeake and eventually into the Atlantic. I was disappointed not to catch of whiff of salt marsh, an odor that evokes my seafaring days. Unfortunately, this property was more inland and manicured like a golf-course in a tasteful and charming sort of way. Perhaps Copperopolis, Round Valley and Muir Wood has spoiled me so that I can now only appreciate the breathtaking. Ohio fall forest colors does fit the bill, though.

While we were frittering through the afternoon in small talk over light snacks, I did catch a bad vibe from Johnnie. The nexus of his discomfort seemed to be the respective spouses of the brother and sister who had been the flower girl and ring bearer at my wedding what seems like eons ago. To my eye both had married well. The ring bearer had picked up the tools of the family trade, a badge and pistol of some sort. His spouse was a pretty blonde whose slim waist seemed in congruent with her three rug rats that I could see pictured in the family portrait on the coffee table next to where we sat. His sister had married a nice looking young man that was thoroughly balding but pretty athletic for a posture that was probably pushing thirty-five. I watched him pitch whiffle balls to his two pre-school aged sons alternately. The younger one was a tiger.

I didn't see the problem, so Johnnie explained the issue. Both the spouses were atheists and none of the kids had been baptized. Under closer observation, I noticed that neither of the spouses really smiled or enjoyed other people. Maybe they were put off by being tertiary participants in a family gathering that didn't interest them, but they seemed to be alone within a large group of joyous people. It is possible that other people were thinking the same thoughts about me, but their separation seemed to be palpably different, and I considered adding the two of them to my prayer list, but I didn't know their names. Johnnie couldn't provide them, he said that he had never been introduced in the half decade since the two joined the family. Evidently, both the flower girl and ring bearer live quite close to Johnnie, but there is no contact between them. I expect that UJ is the Godfather of both of them as he is to one of my children.

The separation seemed strange and disheartening to the both of us. Both of the little families had raised high bulwarks to prevent any possible intrusion of Jesus Christ. I expect that someday and unforeseen tragedy will visit them in their purposefully insular worlds and they will discover that their walls bricked to keep out Our Savior will unfortunately form a bathtub of pain for them to marinate in. Neither Johnnie, Jesus nor I are satisfied with that situation, but we respect and disagree with their choices as responsible adults.

I am not a particularly good prayer warrior, but I do plan to spend some time praying for something to innocuously breach the walls of their atheistic aquaria. Advent seems like an excellent time to affix our eyes on a better outcome for whatever relatives and friends we have that have chosen problematic paths that are currently orientated away from True North.

#Jesus #God #The Holy Spirit #The Virgin Mary #grace #hope #faith #love #family #holidays #gathering #bereavement #Latin Mass #Catholic #eternal life #baptism

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atricksterproblem · 6 years

Text

Fanfiction: Devil May Care Chapter 2

It’s finally done and posted! Link to AO3 below, if you’re into that.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926723/chapters/37470068

“Vashti, this book you gave me? About the alien race car drivers? It was appalling. One of the worst things I have ever read.”

She beamed. “I’m so glad you liked it! I thought you might.”

The two were at their usual little table within easy reach of the coffee urn in the refectory. That first meeting over books had turned into two, and now three. Without really discussing it, this one night a week had become their own private book club.

Vashti gave him back the book he’d lent her last time. “I have to say, this book about the underwater colony of human-fish hybrids was also spectacularly bad.”

“Good! I should get you book two next time...”

Papa gave her a little smile. “However….I have to ask. Did you… mean to give me this one?” Papa held out a book. The cover was lavishly illustrated with two Victorian-era gentlemen in various states of deshabille.

Oh no.

Vashti felt herself blush hard enough that it made her lightheaded. “N-no, I meant to get a different book entirely I am SO sorry--”

“I didn’t figure you for a romance reader, my dear.”

I can’t believe this is happening, she thought.

She buried her face in her hands. “You weren’t supposed to get--”

“Because if I’d known, I’d have brought you the one I have about the Steampunk vampire and his werewolf boyfriend. I’ll bring it next week.”

“...Wait. Wait, you read these things too?”

“Of course I do! They’re just awful, aren’t they? The very worst! So tell me…do you read the straight ones, or just the ones with the boys?”

Vashti mumbled something incomprehensible.

“No matter. I’ll bring you the vampire one next time. Watch out for pages eighty-three and eighty-four, though. They may be a bit…sticky.”

She took her hands away from her face long enough to gape at him. “Papa! That’s disgusting!”

He beamed. “Isn’t it, though?”

“I can’t even look at you right now!”

“That’s too bad, because I thought I was particularly cute today….”

“I am NOT having this conversation with you.”

A lifetime as an appalling tease had given Papa a finely honed sense of when his target had been pushed to the utter limit of what they were able to stand. He judged that it was time to back off a bit.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t tease. Forgive me?”

“Sure, if I survive this experience at all!”

He laughed. “I think you will.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“You shouldn’t worry so much. I read them too, you know. Two boys, two girls, one of each.”

“.…me too.”

“You are bisexual?”

This was not a particularly outlandish question to ask a clergy member of Unholy Church. The overall incidence of non-straight orientations was much higher than in the general population thanks to the Church’s hangup-free approach to sexuality.

“Pan, actually.”

“Really? Me too! Who knew we had so much in common, eh?”

Vashti began to consider removing her hands from her face. Maybe. Not yet.

“When did you know?”

She gave some thought to Papa’s question.

“Always, I think. You?”

“Always, yes. I never told my family, though. They were Catholic and would not have approved in the least.”

That was enough to make her sit up and look him in the face again. “Wait. Your family?”

He laughed. “Well, not the Emeritus side, of course! No, these were my mother’s people.”

This gave her pause. I never thought about him having other family before. The Emeritus bloodline always seemed…self-contained. But of course he must have had other family. The Prime Movers had to come from somewhere.

“Were you…close to your mother?”

“I don’t remember her very well, Vashti. She died while I was still quite young.”

She had kind eyes, he thought. And she read to me, to help me sleep.

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

“It’s all right, my dear, it was many years ago now. She was a strega, you know. A witch. But of course she was Italian, so her extended family was Catholic.”

“And you knew her family well?”

“Only a few of them. Her parents, my grandparents. And her uncle, my great-uncle Salomone. Most of them rejected her after I was born. She was not married to my father, of course, and that they could not accept--and of the few who might have come around, they took one look at this Eye of mine and ran the other way.” He smiled wryly.

“But--that’s awful. You were just a child.”

Her gray-blue eyes were wide, and full of some emotion it took him a moment to identify.

Not pity.

Compassion?

He shrugged. “I never knew them, so it was no loss. And I did have my other relatives. My grandparents were the first ones who taught me to dance, who played me music. Uncle Sal used to take me to the theatre when I was very small.”

“Have you stayed in touch with them?”

“...No. When I was ten, I was given over wholly to the Church for my education as a member of the bloodline. I didn’t hear from them much, after that. They were very old even then, you know. I don’t suppose they are still alive.”

Vashti looked at him, her face set. “That was wrong of them. The Church, you--you deserved better from them, Papa.”

He grinned. “You never knew me when I was younger, my dear. You might not say the same if you knew what a difficult boy I was.”

“No, Papa.” Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. “I--I would always say the same. Of you.”

Their eyes met for a moment. Hers, a little frightened, but full of conviction.

His, a little blank with surprise.

Very gently, he laid a gloved hand over one of hers.

“You are…kind, my dear.”

They smiled at each other, very briefly.

He looked away. “I should go, I have work to do--”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep--”

“I’ll see you next week, Vashti?”

“...Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Until then, my dear.”

She watched him leave, and wondered.

Alone in the cloister walk on his way home, Papa’s mind was in a whirl.

I haven’t told anyone some of those things in years. Decades. Why did I tell her? I am surrounded by enemies.

Why am I so sure that I know she isn’t one of them?

Notes:

Papa's Great-Uncle Sal is named in honor of my own great-uncle Solomon. Uncle Sol was a great trickster in his own right. Once, when he was in the hospital, he organized the other patients and held wheelchair races in the hallway.

Papa's Great-Uncle Sal was the one who first took him to the Commedia Dell'Arte as a boy, an experience which became a lasting influence on his life ever after. There will be more about this in later chapters.

I should also note that the book Papa was suggesting to Vashti for next time is, in fact, based on Soulless by Gail Carriger. The first book in a series well worth reading!

#Papa III #fanfiction

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miss-ladyy-blog · 6 years

Photo

Annette “Lady” Margaret Grant -- Character Sheet

saturday night she's rockin' out by the bonfire / foot hangin' from that tail gate and crankin' up the dial / come sunday mornin' she'll be singing with the choir / drivin' me crazy with that kiss me smile

there's a little bit of devil in her angel eyes / she's a little bit of heaven with a wild side / got a rebel heart a country mile wide

Archetype — The Innocent Birthday — September 5, 1995 Zodiac Sign — Virgo MBTI — INFJ Enneagram — 3; the Achiever Temperament — Melancholic Hogwarts House — Slythpuff Moral Alignment — Neutral Good Primary Vice — Gluttony Primary Virtue — Charity Element — Air

Overview:

Mother — Kathleen “Katie Erin” (nee Miller) (48) (FC: Valerie Bertinelli) Father — James Clancey Grant the III (50) (FC: Hugh Grant) Mother’s Occupation — homemaker Father’s Occupation — judge, holds seat on city council Family Finances — well off, not super rich but definitely comfortable Birth Order — eldest Brothers — James Clancey Grant the IV (2, birthday: September 10, 2015) Sisters — none Other Close Family — Aunt Sarah (Jim’s sister) (47) (FC: Mädchen Amick); Grandma (Margaret Grant) (paternal grandmother); Grandpa (James Clancey Grant the II) (paternal grandfather); Grammy (Annette Miller) (maternal grandmother); Grampy (Robert Miller) (maternal grandfather); Uncle Robert Miller the II, Aunt Rose Miller, cousins: Robert the III (28) (wife: Allison, kids: Ronald (5), Nicholas (2)), Zachariah (24) (wife: Betsy, kids: Mary (1)), Jessica (20), Margaret (16); Uncle Nate Miller, Aunt Rachel Miller, cousins: Sarah Beth (25) (husband: Kevin Lund, kids: Matthew (1)), Andrew (24), Marisol (23); Uncle Josh Miller, Aunt Tina Miller, cousins: George (21), Martin (18) Best Friend — Constance Gutting (Kelly Marie Tran) (lowkey ex-girlfriend), Elizabeth Haynes, Nancy Boyd (sorority sisters); Jenny North and Kimberly O’Neill (best childhood friends) Other Friends — Aleatra (sorority chapter president), Adele, Margaret, Angela, Michelle, Debra (other sorority sisters) Enemies — rival sororities, Don Barker (ex who leaked nudes) Pets — none at the present time :( had a cocker spaniel back home named Precious and a chestnut quarter horse named King. Home Life During Childhood — it was good, her parents have a bit of a strained relationship, but overall kept up appearances around Lady, and she was definitely spoiled. When she turned 16, they told her the truth about being adopted, but Lady just kind of--elected to ignore it, at least on the surface. What did it matter? Her parents still loved her and everything. Things only got tense when her mom got pregnant. Her father is warm, but he’s also very serious and gone a lot, works long hours. Especially when she was a kid because he was a lawyer--he only recently graduated to judge. Her mom and her were really close until she got pregnant. Town or City Name(s) — Born in: Rincón, Puerto Rico; grew up in Atlanta, Georgia; specifically Ansley Park. What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — She’s had the same bedroom her whole life and has changed many times. But, it was always pretty organized. Soft pastel colors. It has a mural on one wall of rolling hills and a sunrise, that her mother painted when they were working on the adoption papers. The room is decorated to match those colors--pinks and yellows and reds. Any Sports or Clubs — She did softball in middle school, rode horses basically her whole life. Was on the newspaper for her high school. Was her class’ treasurer. Did a lot of charity work. Favorite Toy or Game — Is excellent at lots of board games--Clue and Monopoly are the ones she absolutely crushes at. Schooling — Private Catholic school for basically her entire life until college. Did well. Hardworker. Her grades slipped a little after she found out she was adopted, but she brought them up again quickly. Favorite Subject — English. Popular or Loner — Popular, but softspoken. A follower, not a leader. Important Experiences or Events — Finding out she was adopted. Her first boyfriend (when she was sixteen, his name was Patrick Banks, they broke up pretty amicably.) Her first girlfriend (Constance, was her sorority sister. They kept their relationship a secret. Broke up because Constance wanted to go #public.) Her nudes getting leaked. (By her boyfriend, who she broke up with after he showed up at the sorority house drunk one time, Don Barker. They sued him. (Part of her still loves him, because what they had was ~real.)) Nationality — American. She was just born in Rincón, Puerto Rico, but adopted within a year, and she doesn’t consider herself Puerto Ricanf. Culture — Southern American Religion and beliefs — Republican. Catholic.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Denise Bidot Complexion — Dark, olive-y toned skin. Hair Colour — Dark, dark brown, but she’s dyed it before. Eye Colour — Brown Height — 5’11 Build — Curvy Tattoos — None Piercings — Ears Common Hairstyle — Long and wavy Clothing Style — Keeps up with the modern trends but errs on the conservative side of things Mannerisms — Talks with her hands. Nods a lot. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Pretty hardy, only gets colds and such. Physical Ailments — None Neurological Conditions — None Allergies — None Grooming Habits — Very good. Uses face masks/hair masks. All good high-brow products for her makeup and lotion and stuff like that. Sleeping Habits — Sleeps pretty well. Can’t sleep in. Gets up at 8 almost every morning. Eating Habits — Eats pretty healthily, she’s pretty aware of her weight and doesn’t really like to eat around others except for small things. Which always made her family get-togethers hard. But, she definitely loves her Southern food. Exercise Habits — Does yoga. Goes for walks every morning. Is pretty in-shape. I give her a 6/10. Emotional Stability — Pretty good. She does the whole conceal, don’t feel thing. But she also tries to just push through things. Body Temperature — Runs a little hot. Sociability — She’s kind of nervous and quiet for the most part, a follower, not a leader. But, if she gets the hint of something she’s curious about she doesn’t let it go. Addictions — Sweet tea? Drug Use — None, usually. Has smoked pot before. Has done Molly. Alcohol Use — Binge drinks, but not often.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — doesn’t speak up for herself, timid, follower, too curious Good Habits — very courteous, also curious, kind, warm Best Characteristic — her curiosity Worst Characteristic — letting herself get pushed around Worst Memory — her break up with her girlfriend, Constance, and her boyfriend, Don--her photos getting leaked. Best Memory — getting inducted into Phi Mu Proud of — her status in Phi Mu Embarrassed by — her leaked nudes, her weight, the fact that she’s adopted. Driving Style — excellent driver, usually the DD for her friends, has a clean record. Strong Points — loyal, kind Temperament — mild, so mild, the most mild, even if she gets bothered, it is hard to annoy her. Attitude — very southern and charming, of course. Weakness — doing whatever people say Fears — that people won’t like her for who she is Phobias — doesn’t like the dark, or snakes, or spiders Secrets — she’s adopted, she is still in love with Don, she actually doesn’t want to be such a Good Girl, is resentful of her brother Regrets — breaking up with Constance/Don, Feels Vulnerable When — people talk about her weight or appearance or what she’s eating, etc, etc Pet Peeves — people who are rude Conflicts — wanting to break out and be rebellious v being afraid Motivation — to prove herself Short Term Goals and Hopes — explore Swynlake and all it has to offer Long Term Goals and Hopes — get married, settle down, start a life Sexuality — bisexual (closeted) Day or Night Person — day person, definitely Introvert or Extrovert — introverted, for sure Optimist or Pessimist — a little bit of both? I’d say more of an optimist for others, pessimist for herself

Likes and Styles:

Music — Country, of course! Loves Dixie Chicks, Lady Antebellum, Garth Brooks, Dierks Bentley. Both the more recent stuff and oldies. Though, she also loves some good pop music and more folky stuff too. She finds rap to be offensive and too “urban” and can’t understand why anyone would listen to something like that. Same with heavier stuff like rock’n’roll or screamo, etc, etc. Anything that shocks or offends is definitely not Lady’s cup of tea. She will go out of the way to listen to the clean versions of songs and I think that says a lot about her. Books — Gone with the Wind is her favorite. Her favourite book as a child was “Because of Winn-Dixie”; A Streetcar Named Desire, loves Pat Conroy and Nicholas Sparks. Also enjoys some Flannery O’Connor. Also enjoys In Cold Blood. Magazines — Oprah’s Magazine, The New Yorker, InStyle, Vogue, Country Living, Vanity Fair, The Weekly Standard, The American Conservative--she has a bit of a magazine addiction. Foods — Lady is very conscious about what she puts in her body. She’s certainly not vegetarian or a health nut, but she tries to balance herself. Though, that is hard to do with all the delicious Southern food. She loves ribs and barbecue and coleslaw and baked beans. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Chicken wings. And she absolutely adores sweets! She loves lemon drops and keeps boxes on her pretty much all the time. Drinks — Sweet tea, of course! Lady’s blood, she’s pretty sure, is sweet tea at this point. Chick-fil-a is the second best sweet tea to the one she makes at home and she used to go and get one almost every day. She was addicted. She’s gonna hate not having Chick-fil-a in Swynlake, or England really at all. Animals — Lady isn’t too much a fan of animals. She likes cute ones--dogs and cats and horses, but hates animals like rats/mice or possums. She believes they’re vermin that should be killed and dealt with. Hates snakes. Hates raccoons. Really she dislikes more animals than she likes probably. Sports — road horses, did softball when younger. Social Issues — right-leaning, is pro-life, things the gays shouldn’t get married (at least, outwardly, she’s still accepting that part of herself), is kind of afraid of people who seem “middle eastern” or uh like y’know just kind of in general American racist. You know. (Which is ironic bc she’s Mexican/Kuwaiti.) Favorite Saying — “After all, tomorrow is another day.” -- Scarlett O’Hara Color — Bright colors! Pinks and blues and reds and yellows--as long as it is bright! She also loves pastels, they are classic when it comes to fashion. Baby blues and powder pinks. She wears a lot of more neutral clothing too, but it is bright colors that make her the happiest and she will almost never be caught in something like black! Clothing — Her favorite stuff is her white dress for most Phi Mu events. Also loves her straw hats. Definitely a fan of her cowboy boots. She tends to dress modern/Southern. Owns way too much Lilly Pulitzer, probably. Jewelry — Her necklace of pearls is her favorite and she wears them to all special occasions. She wears jewelry to accessorize otherwise, but it’s usually costume jewelry. Websites — tumblr, instagram are her big ones TV Shows — Heartland, Pretty Little Liars, Gilmore Girls, Golden Girls, Gossip Girl (do you see the pattern here?) Movies — Gone with the Wind, of course, is a Southern classic. She also loves Under the Tuscan Sun. All Nicholas Sparks movies. Secret Life of Bees. Forrest Gump. Also loves musicals--loved La La Land when it came out and loves Wicked, Phantom of the Opera, etc. Not too sure about Hamilton. Some of the songs are good, but she doesn’t understand the hype. Greatest Want — to fit in somewhere Greatest Need — to accept herself

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — She lives with her Aunt Sarah. She hates it. Household furnishings — Pretty modern. Nothing special. Favorite Possession — Her journals. Most Cherished Possession — Her pearls, they were her great grandmother’s. (Her older cousin Sarah Beth was pissed that Lady got them and she didn’t.) Neighborhood — Tortuga Place. Town or City Name — Swynlake Married Before — No. Significant Other Before — Patrick Banks, Constance Gutting, Don Barker Children — None Relationship with Family — A little strained, atm, but overall pretty good. Car — She had a black Chevy Sonic (2015) but not anymore. Career — Journalist for the Swynlake Squire. Dream Career — Journalist for Vogue or InStyle Dream Life — Married, writing a fashion blog, two kids, a dog. Love Life — Pretty nonexistent. Talents or Skills — Excellent writer, very organized, very good at taking care of people. Intelligence Level — Quite smart, rather intelligent. Finances — Cut off, currently. Makes a meager wage at the Squire.

#character sheet #about #inspiration

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asingleredheart · 6 years

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Why Great Uncle S Hates Coconut Cake

@gallusrostromegalus as a thank you for all your crazy family stories, please have one of mine.

Recently I visited my great Uncle S (my paternal grandfather’s younger brother) and he filled me in on the story of how my paternal grandparents met. Turns out there was a bit more to it than I knew.

First, what I was told before: Grandpa H was in the Navy during the Vietnam War. He and Grandma M were high school sweethearts, wrote to each other faithfully, got married when he was discharged, and lived happily ever after.

Now the real story.

First of all, Grandpa H and Grandma M weren’t high school sweethearts. In fact, they had never met when they started writing. Instead, Grandma M was the friend of one of Grandpa H’s shipmates’ girlfriend, who agreed to write to her friend’s boyfriend’s friend who was sick of being the only guy on board not getting letters from a girl.

Now, Grandpa H wasn’t getting letters from girls because he had no idea how to talk to them (cause, you know, talking to girls like fellow human beings was inconceivable). But he was smart enough, and some of the other guys ghostwrote for him, so by the end of the war, Grandma M was completely charmed. They decided to meet up.

Despite not having his buddies’ help on land, Grandpa H must’ve had something going for him, because within 2 weeks of him getting home, they were engaged.

Here’s where it gets crazy.

To understand why the shit hit the fan, you have to understand Grandma M’s mother. Great Grandma K was born in the Netherlands to 2 Nansen passport holders (Nansen passports were granted to some stateless persons post WWI to give them some amount of rights in whatever country they had ended up in). As you can imagine, life as a child of two stateless persons was not fun. So Great Grandma was going to do something about it.

For years growing up, Great Grandma K had one goal, and one goal only. She was going to marry a man so rich, she would be able to completely bury her stateless childhood. And she devoted her life to becoming the kind of woman she thought a rich man’s wife should be. She would spend hours crouched outside the windows of charm schools, listening to the training she couldn’t afford. She obsessively studied all the latest fashion and arts and the like by scrounging magazines and newspapers out of garbage cans. She was a woman possessed.

But you know what, she did it. Great Grandpa K was as rich as they came. No one is quite sure how the stateless Dutch girl met the son of one of the wealthiest merchants in Germany, but they met, they married, and they had a little girl. And then 2 weeks later, the Nazis invaded the Netherlands.

Everything Great Grandma K had hoped for came crashing down when the family went into hiding. Miraculously, they all survived and made it to America, but Great Grandpa K’s fortune was gone. They had to start over.

And yet again, they did it.

By the time Grandma M was writing Grandpa H, the family was wealthy again. Not as wealthy as in Germany, but they had a nice big house in New York City and Grandma went to private school.

As far as Great Grandma K was concerned, Grandma M was going to ensure the family’s continued status by marrying a man just as rich as them, if not more. She was decidedly NOT going to marry a man fresh out of the Navy that came from a family of blue-collar workers from Brooklyn.

Another family mystery is what happened between Great Grandma and Grandma. The general belief is that Great Grandma stopped short of physically preventing the marriage because Grandpa H at least had the decency to be Jewish (It’s probably for the best that she was already mostly mentally gone and living in a care facility by the time her only son, my Great Uncle R, announced he was marrying a Catholic)

Whatever Great Grandma did, it wasn’t enough to stop the wedding, and 2 weeks after meeting in person for the first time, Grandma and Grandpa were wed, and the two families got together for the first, and last, time for the world’s most awkward post-nuptial dinner

(Great Uncle S said that dinner somehow managed to be more awkward than the one 8 years later when he came out as gay. And that dinner ended in Grandpa H calling him a pedophile)

So, the families are together at Great Grandma K and Great Grandpa K’s house, mostly because Grandpa’s parents’ place wasn’t big enough. Already there’s been awkwardness because Great Grandma K thought that Great Uncle S (who was only 10 at the time) should eat in the kitchen and not at the table with the grown ups.

A shouting match ensued which Great Grandma K somehow lost (Great Uncle Stu says that in retrospect, the whole later disaster could’ve been avoided if she won), and they all sit down.

Now, in all of Great Grandma K’s “rich man’s wife” training, she had never taken the time to learn to cook. Why should she? She was going to marry someone with servants to do things like that. And if the war hadn’t happened, she would’ve been right. But in America, the family wasn’t that rich.

So, no one is happy to be there, the food is awful, and generally this is not a good start to a marriage. As his brother is being critiqued to death by his new mother-in-law, Great Uncle S manages to choke down some of the food “like a big boy”.

Finally, after eons, dinner ends, and everyone retires to the living room for dessert and coffee.

Enter the final nail in the familial relations coffin: Great Grandma K’s Hellspawn Coconut Cake. Hard as a rock, containing an entire bag of sugar, no leavening agents, and drowned in fake coconut flavoring on top of the bag of shredded coconut.

The adults managed to choke it down alright. Great Uncle S was another story. After the raw-on-the-inside-burnt-on-the-outside fish, the broccoli boiled to green mush, and some unidentifiable other side that was orange, that cake was too much for his poor 10 year-old stomach.

Great Uncle S barfed. He barfed everywhere, and he barfed hard. He splattered two couches, Great Grandma K’s best dress, and (worst of all) all over the heirloom family rug from Germany that had somehow survived the war and the trip to the States.

Great Grandma K had to be physically restrained from smacking Great Uncle S around, and they left pretty quick. After that, both sides of the family pretended the other didn’t exist. They never got together again, not even when Grandma M gave birth to my dad and uncle. And to this day Great Uncle S can’t stand coconut cake.

There was, however, one good thing that came out of it. Great Uncle S’s dad was so happy to get out of there, he decided not to argue when Great Uncle S announced that he wasn’t going to play football since it would cut into his practice time at the local theater.

#my family #family #long post #text #vomit tw #coconut cake #asinglewritingheart

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therightnewsnetwork · 7 years

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Never Date A Colored Girl

“Never date a colored girl. They’s all got the clap. They get it from they mamas.” My grandmother’s sage advice to me at five years old.

In spite of all the glamour shots of Spanish moss, and cypress trees, Louisiana is about as out of luck as one can get when it comes to being from somewhere. It’s hot, muggy, racist, and nobody’s family tree has a fork in it. Mine was no exception. My grandparents were first cousins, and I guess that’s why we all look alike, have every health condition known to America and some third world countries, Louisiana being among that group in spite of it being positioned at the tail end of the Mississippi River.

Long about the time I was three years old God decided it was time to kill me so I contradicted polio and something called the “sleeping sickness.” I lived, no thanks to the medical care of the day, and the following year they gave me a polio vaccination. You can’t make this stuff up folks. So at five I was deaf in one ear, which still rings till this day, blind in one eye and walking like a duck, but by golly I was white and that counted for something I guess.

Being white in a Klan based state had its perks, the main one being there was a whole race somewhere just a below white trash, which is what I was. What that amounted to was we could vote without getting lynched. Now we couldn’t marry a girl with all her teeth because that meant she’d been to a dentist and obviously was a blue blood, not capable of finding love unless black folk raped her. Then, of course then there’s the hanging, and Scarlet grows a new hymen just perfect for her fiancé Buddha Montgomery, heir to the gas station and thirty second degree Mason to boot.

All of this meant nothing to a kid growing up in a shotgun shack, living on liver gravy and bread with a flea bitten dog and a yard full of chickens, even in town. The difference between our “neighborhood” and “Nigger town” was the distance between the shacks. Theirs were closer. My most vivid memory was my uncle and dad “gigging” frogs and butchering them in the kitchen sink. All they’d eat were the legs, but they had to cut their heads off anyway, I suppose for the entertainment factor, and I’d watch them eat the frog legs while the heads blinked at them from the counter. They’d actually position the heads so they could see that. And poor old Martin Luther King tried singling “We Shall Overcome” to these guys. He’s lucky he wasn’t blinking from a sink.

I really did end up in a hospital when I had polio, but for minor ailments like nails in the foot, cut throats or pneumonia, you’d get taken to some camp in the swamp where a voodoo woman would blow smoke up your butt (literally) or put a penny on the wound so the spirit of Mr. Lincoln could draw out the poison, I crappith thee not!

I went to an all white school, but let me clarify. There’s white, then there’s white. The whitest kids had clean clothes and smelled good. I had neither. I usually wore a flannel shirt, and blue jeans with iron on patches. Iron on patches were the rage of the age. We was proud of iron on patches. I’d sit by the ironing board and watch in snake amazement as the patch cleaved to the fabric as if by magic. I really didn’t understand the social structure in school, only the fact that certain kids could hit me anytime they wanted to. There was this spoiled brat, Vance, I still remember him, who’d seek me out and beat me up during every recess. One day, in a moment of clarity, I hit him back and he fell, crying, so I hit him again. The teachers had to pull me off, but I think that was possibly the most memorable day of my life, that is until Velma Prigmore took off her blouse under the football stand years later, but I’ll save that for another chapter.

I was surrounded by family but none of us liked each other. I remember that every time there was a get together it ended up in a drunken fight with the kids all screaming, followed by that wild ride back to Shreveport across the Red River bridge with the car bouncing off the rails. The only good thing was at that age when you life flashes before your eyes it doesn’t take long. I know because every time I got my butt beat my life flashed before my eyes. Usually involving blinking frog’s heads.

My life flashed before my eyes when my grandmother got a hold of me once. I think I was five. We had this fat little dog named Maybelline. One day I had to pee, and couldn’t make it so I peed on the wall in the hall. My grandmother came along, saw the pee, then me, then the dog, picked up a stick and beat puppy crap out of Maybelleline. Wow! Remember, this was the days before internet. Next day, pee a little higher, bigger thrashing for Maybelline. Finally, I decided to kill the dog. I peed about two feet ABOVE my head. Now Maybelline was about the size of a fat possum. I have to give my grandmother credit. She did everything she could to match that dog’s butt with that pee before my life flashed before MY eyes!

Louisiana people will eat just about anything, steak, road kill, all manner of guts, small negroes, you name it. After the frogs I realized my dad was crazy and I generally stuck to liver gravy at home. Wonder Bread was safe. Rice. Beyond that was pot luck. Crawfish. Oh my LIVING God! Etched into my still developing mind was the image of huddles of inbreds sucking crawfish butts. Now, I’m not saying that’s wrong, some of you might suck crawfish butts, just not me. And Boudin sausage. I think there might be an FDA warning on that now. For those of you who do t know what that tastes like, take a dirty sock, pee on it, wring it out and stuff it in your mouth. There you go. Don’t forget to wash it down with some of dat good ol’ Jax beer.

And Jesus? God, did they have Jesus. My grandmother on my mother’s side, you know, the one who married her cousin, well, when we was living on Laurel Street, she would drag me down the the Baptist church and sit me right up there in the amen pew while this crazy old man screamed that me, and practically everyone else there was going to “hayell” and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it except put money in that little plate he had passed around. Jesus scared me to death until I was twenty-eight years old! I was just glad I wasn’t Catholic, and double glad I wasn’t black, or God forbid a black Catholic. Hell, if I turned out to be one of those I’d have just jumped into the Red River and been done with it.

I was told, when we lived Kaywood Apartments in Bossier City, to never go near the river. Now this is how much common sense we had at that age, and survival skills. With God, mosquitoes, teachers, the Klan and your parents all trying to kill you, you knew damn well not to go surfing on the Red River. This factor wore off by the time you got to high school because they were forever fishing teens out from under logs where the gators had stuffed them for seasoning. Oh yeah, we had those too. See the contrast; kids these days don’t know any better than to eat a dishwasher tablet and we used to play among the gators. We knew better than to eat a dishwasher tablet, one, because there weren’t any, and two, if there had been we’d have ended up down on the bayou with some old black lady blowing smoke up our butt. That’s called preventive medicine.

Not all things were bad. School lunches were a bitch. Till this day I have a prejudice. You see, all the school cooks were big, fat black women, and the result was whatever they come up with. Liver and onions, fried chicken, chicken and rice and courtesy of Huey Long you could eat all you wanted. They all had them Aunt Jemima wraps on their heads, a big smile, and even bigger spoons. They would throw mashed potatoes on the plate and it would drip over the side. Even today I have a hard time eating white woman cooking to the point of giving it to the dog when she looks away. Then you’d come home on the Good Ship Reality and find your uncle and dad in the kitchen with a case of Jax beer and a croak sack full of unfortunate frogs.

Louisiana weather sucks like a French lady of the night, and I know something about Them because Louisiana is full of them. You can’t see the tornadoes for the trees. I still remember the alert coming on the TV, the one you had to slap on the top to get reception from the station five miles away, and a very serious voice saying, “This is a severe tornado alert!” As opposed to the more mundane kind I suppose. Now, you didn’t know where it was, couldn’t see it, I’m told you could hear it, but that’s hard from under the bed. If you lived you’d stay up all night anyway just in case it had babies on the way through. Then the next day, in school, you have a bomb drill because everyone just knew the Russians were gonna bomb Barksdale Air Force Base at any given moment. All of this and the grown ups were worried about the blacks drinking out of the wrong water fountain. But . . . they all had Jesus!

By the time we moved to Texas I was ten years old, and pretty much bat-crap crazy. Had a permanent ringing in my ears, constantly looking over my shoulder for bombs, blacks, and bloody crosses, and the scary part is I left an entire state behind that thought just like me, and they’re still THERE! Well, the ones the gators didn’t get. Texas was a whole new deal, and I had to work it, which has only taken me fifty-five years, six wives, ten houses and three fortunes. This book is my story and thousands of baby boomers just like me!

The post Never Date A Colored Girl appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

from http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/never-date-a-colored-girl/

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patriotnewsblogger-blog · 7 years

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Never Date A Colored Girl

New Post has been published on http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/never-date-a-colored-girl/

Never Date A Colored Girl

“Never date a colored girl. They’s all got the clap. They get it from they mamas.” My grandmother’s sage advice to me at five years old.

The post Never Date A Colored Girl appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/never-date-a-colored-girl/ %cats%

#conservative #republican #tea party

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realestate63141 · 7 years

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These Two Gay Swimmers Are Best Friends And Each Other’s Rock

This article originally appeared on Outsports

We’re two swimmers and best friends, both in college, who happen to be gay. We came out to each other via text, and our bond and friendship has only grown. We don’t know where each of us would be without the other. We wanted to share our stories.

Axel Reed, will graduate this spring from Chapman University in Orange County, Calif., where he was a swimmer. He previously swam at Villanova. Josh Velasquez attends the University of Arizona. He went there hoping to swim, but an injury cut short his career.

Before we tell you the story of how two gay swimmers helped each other come out, we want to share some background about each of us.

Axel Reed

Growing up in Trabuco Canyon, in Orange County, Calif., going to church on Sunday and having chapel twice a week at my elementary and middle school definitely was a challenge.

I always knew there was something different about me from my friends. A difference that was hard to comprehend because I grew up being taught that men were essentially programmed to marry women and that is how the world works. But that wasn’t how I was programmed. I was always good at hiding my emotions and pushing my feelings deep inside, so I had no problem hiding that I was gay until high school.

High school was four years of confusion, depression, anxiety and all other emotions you feel when you’re hiding who you are every day. On top of everything else I was a competitive swimmer, a sport known for being “more gay” because my uniform was a tiny piece of fabric just large enough to cover “my stuff” and I went to a private, Catholic high school.

Swimming was my outlet, my distraction and my excuse. I dated a few girls, but never anything too serious. I would consistently use training as an excuse to not date. At the same time swim practice meant lying to my coach and teammates — the people I called my family. I was afraid of telling my teammates that I was gay because I feared they would look at me differently or my guy friends would distance themselves.

My freshman year of college at Villanova, I told myself, “it’s four years, just fake it” because now that I was a Division I swimmer I really thought I couldn’t be out. That was not the case. As much as I tried to hide my boyfriend during freshman year from my teammates, it was inevitable they were going to find out.

I started by telling my small group of close swim friends and then let the word spread to the rest of the team. Everyone was supportive and later on in the year two of my other teammates ended up coming out as well. It was a pretty amazing experience. When I transferred to Chapman for my second year of college, I came out to my teammates there more quickly than at Villanova, and was greeted with the same response: nothing but love.

Don’t get me wrong — having supportive teammates meant the world to me, but it didn’t help with my confidence or being comfortable with myself.

I was faced with a lot of stress and anxiety that first year of college and found myself often driving aimlessly through Pennsylvania or sneaking into the pool area to sit in the bleachers and just think. I struggled a lot with the thought of people knowing and having the confidence to walk around campus and the pool deck having people know the real me.

I realized the hard part wasn’t telling people. The hard part was the lonely, dark place I put myself in when faced with the reality that people knew I was gay. That emotionally draining pit was what I wanted to help Josh avoid because I knew he was going through the same thing.

Josh Velasquez

Growing up in Corona in Southern California, I was an only child, with a single mom as my only parent. My father tried to be a part of my life when I was younger but it never built at the time into father-son relationship.

My family was extremely large and we spent most holidays together. Throughout my life, I saw all of my aunts and uncles happy together, and my cousins in happy relationships. But they were all guy-girl relationships. It was the norm in my family. All I wanted was to be part of that norm.

I knew I was attracted to men at a young age but I fought those emotions and pushed them far down. Along with my entire family being “normal,” my family is very involved with the Christian church. I’ve had such hard time coming to terms with my sexuality because I was scared that my family would hate me because homosexuality is a sin.

Athletically, I swam my entire life. I swam club and varsity my entire high school career. At my school, swimming was considered a “gay” sport because of our little Speedos. I refused to be part of that stereotype. I would date girls so no one could see that I was hiding my true feelings.

My freshman year I became extremely close to the seniors and juniors on my swim team. I was this little freshman who got to hang out with people I looked up to and wanted to be like. They all had girlfriends and in my eyes I wanted that too. I wanted to fit in with my friends.

Luckily, I was able to play a good cover. I didn’t have that hard of a time getting with girls in high school. I felt so cool to be a part of the older group. The younger guys who were my age hated that the older guys wanted to hang out with me and not them. It was amazing but the whole time I would think to myself, “Do everything in your power to be straight. Don’t disappoint them, Josh.”

Even though I wanted to just be “normal,” that was not the main reason I couldn’t wrap my head around with being gay. When I was in elementary school, a neighbor decided to take advantage of me. I was a very vulnerable boy because I did not have a father figure in my life at the time.

My mom was working her ass off to make sure I had a privileged life. This neighbor saw that as a way use my body for his pleasure and take advantage of an innocent child. He made himself the male figure in my life whether I liked it or not. This went on for about two years and I did nothing to stop it. I was scared. Scared of being hurt by him. Scared he would hurt my family. Scared for someone I loved and wanted to protect.

Being sexually abused as a kid was what made it impossible for me to accept myself. I thought “Why? Why did this happen to me? If this wouldn’t have happened would I be normal and like girls?” I hated myself up until November 2016. I still struggle accepting myself to this day but every day I get closer and closer to finding happiness within.

My mom would ask me all the time, randomly, “Josh do you like guys? Josh are you bi? Josh are you gay?” I would always get defensive and deny it. Until one day in the summer of 2015, I finally decided it was safe for me to tell her. It was scary to finally say those words. I told her she couldn’t tell anyone. She kept her promise.

Fast forward to family weekend, my sophomore year at the University of Arizona in 2015, when I finally felt comfortable with my family knowing. I told my sister and brother in law one night. I was beyond scared that I would disappoint them because everyone thought I was this “lady killer.” Once I told my sister she cried and said, “It makes me sad to think you couldn’t tell us this.”

My brother in law told me, “I think I love you more now because you let me in to get to know the real you.” It was a huge eye opener. The day my family was leaving, I decided I needed to tell my dad. I was so scared that I wouldn’t be the son he wanted and I he wouldn’t love me the same. I was completely wrong. He told me, “this isn’t going to be an easy life, but I’ll be there the whole time with you while you go through it. I love you, son!” That moment I felt completely normal. My immediate family finally knew the real Josh.

Axel and Josh’s life as best friends

We both swam for club teams in Orange County, Calif. We ran into each other at meets but never really became friends until one day in 2014 when Axel messaged Josh on Instagram. We would chat all the time and the summer before we both left for college we became extremely close. It was really hard to say goodbye to each other after becoming so close.

Swimmers have a special connection, and that was the reason we clicked. There was something else though, another reason why our friendship was different. We found out that reason our first semester at college. One night Josh received a text from Axel. Josh opened the text and all it said was, “I’m gay, Josh. Are you?” Josh waited about 10 minutes to reply because he didn’t know if he was ready, but with confidence he replied, “Yeah, I am, Axel.”

That day was when we became each other’s rock. Little did we know that we would really need each other multiple times after that, especially Josh. Since Axel came out a year before Josh, he was able to help guide Josh through the tough times.

Axel had a boyfriend while at Villanova so he got to see how it was to have a “normal” life with a guy. During this time Josh would sneak around when drunk with one guy at school but both were deep in the closet. It took a toll on Josh and he was jealous that Axel could have a normal life.

Josh tried to push Axel away, but Axel never let that happen. He would always make sure his friend was OK, because of what Axel went through after coming out. While Axel’s dad had a hard time accepting him, Josh would tell Axel to give it time and he would come around. It was ironic that Josh was giving Axel this advice when he couldn’t come to terms and tell his own parents.

Axel was the one person Josh could cry to and vent because at the time Axel was the only one who knew about Josh. Axel would always say, “it’s time to tell your mom.” Josh would reply, “No I’m not ready. I can’t do this.” And like a best friend, Axel stayed by Josh’s side the entire time. Josh didn’t come out to his mom right away but with Axel’s guidance, he finally did in the summer of 2015.

Josh didn’t realize how special Axel was until the day Josh broke down emotionally. Josh got put in a situation at school where a guy he didn’t know almost attacked him. It brought back memories from his childhood abuser. Josh did not want to wake up the next day. He was disgusted with himself. Ashamed of himself and embarrassed, he told his family about everything that happened because he was scared he’d do something stupid.

In his sophomore year of college, Josh fell into a deep depression. Josh’s depression came from his past. Josh never dealt with his problems. He would always push them down and hide them from other. Finally one day they all came out and he didn’t know how to deal with them. He thought he was alone, even though Axel would tell him that was not the case.

Axel would be the one to call, Facetime, text and always make sure Josh was OK. He would remind him that what he was going through was just a speed bump and that everything would work out. That was hard for Josh to see because he still wasn’t out at his school. If it wasn’t for Axel, Josh might not be here today.

However, don’t think this is one-sided. Josh helped, and still helps Axel, whether he knows it or not. One characteristic of Josh is that he radiates confidence, despite whatever he is going through. Axel struggled a lot after coming out, always worried about what other people were saying about him and judging him.

Although Axel was out, he did not have confidence. Josh would go out with his group of friends who knew about him and be 100% Josh, confident in himself and his sexuality. Seeing Josh be so comfortable with himself pushed Axel every day to step outside of his comfort zone because he wanted that confidence. He wanted to be go out with friends and be himself, hold hands with a guy, and not care about other people’s opinions. Josh will never let Axel think badly about himself.

Today we have never been happier with ourselves. We’re finally letting people into our lives and letting them get to know the real Josh and Axel, not the disguise they use to wear.

We wanted to share our story jointly so that other swimmers or people struggling to come out don’t feel alone. Realize that others are experiencing the same thing as you and they made it through it. Love yourself and don’t push away the people close to you because this is the time you want them as close as possible.

Axel Reed, 21, will be graduating from Chapman University early with a B.S in Business Administration and an emphasis in Real Estate. You can find him on Instagram(@axel_reed). You can also email him at [email protected].

Josh Velasquez, 21, is a junior pursuing a degree in neuroscience and cognitive behavior at the University of Arizona. You can find him on Instagram (@whoisjoshv) and Facebook. You can also email him at [email protected].

For more from OutSports, check out these stories:

This trans athlete is a sudden star on her Connecticut high school track team

Cubs allow Wrigley Field to be used in gay-themed baseball comedy

Out band director at Catholic university still bears physical scars of living in the closet

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abenteuerinwestberlin · 8 years

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PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 3/8

Setting: 1955. West-Berlin.

He was lucky, really, that he’d managed the restaurant he had - although in truth, he hadn’t done much; he’d called in a favor to his uncle, whom Bertram knew to be a completely hopeless romantic, and the actor had called in some favors and pulled some strings, and now Bertram was taking Diana to a really top class restaurant, settled in the French occupation zone.

He picked her up at her parents’ house, as promised, at eight in the evening. Of course, he was invited inside so that her parents could ensure that he was an upstanding gentleman - which he was, by all standards. They hadn’t asked as many questions as he’d anticipated, and Bertram and Diana were free to leave by a quarter after the hour. He showed her to his car, opened the door for her, and let her inside. He hoped that she couldn’t tell how sweaty his palms were through her gloves, and he told himself that there was no way for her to hear his heart thumping out of his chest, especially once he started the car.

“So,” Diana began once Bertram started driving. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“I got us reservations for a French restaurant in the north,” he said. “And… then, if that goes well… I thought we might go dancing? That is, if you’d like to do that.”

He saw Diana smile out of the corner of his eye, and he reminded himself to pay attention to the road. A car crash would certainly ruin the night. Fortunately, though, Diana didn’t seem to need him to look at her, at least while he was driving. She answered, “That sounds wonderful.”

He really was on cloud nine.

They made light small talk as he drove to the restaurant, and Diana insisted upon using first names, if still “Sie”, which was, really, more than Bertram could have hoped for.(1) He swore his heart skipped a bear when she said, “Bertram… that’s a very nice name.”

They arrived at the restaurant in one piece, and he made sure to open her door for her, like a proper gentleman. She thanked him and held onto his arm as he escorted her into the restaurant. The maitre d’ hôtel asked for their name, so Bertram gave them his, and - Bertam could scarcely believe it - the maître d’hôtel showed them to their table. Of course, he’d known his uncle loved him and wanted to help, and he didn’t doubt that his uncle was sure there was a reservation, but Bertram had been a bit anxious that the reservation would have been under his uncle’s name, and then he’d have to explain the whole thing to Diana right there rather than as some charming anecdote months down the line. But they were seated, and of course Bertram pulled her chair out for her, and they received their menus.

“Order anything you’d like,” Bertram said. He hoped he was being charming, and for what it was worth, she smiled at him. He ordered a bottle of merlot for the two of them to share, and let her place her own order (at least, that’s what he thought he ought to do; he hoped she hadn’t anticipated him ordering for her).

“It’s hard to imagine we can sit here and order merlot now when just a few years ago, all the food had to be airlifted into the city.”

“I was still in Munich at the time,” he said. “My parents were very reluctant to let me go to university here; they were afraid it’d happen again.”

“Oh, I moved to Berlin afterward, as well. During my summer holidays.”

She didn’t seem to have an accent atypical to the region - or any accent at all, really, so he saw no harm in asking, “Where did you move from?”

“Nowawes,” she said. “But it was annexed into Potsdam when I was a child.”(2)

“My uncle spent the war in Babelsberg,” Bertram said, grateful to have some common ground. “He shot some films there; his sister was a director, although she, uh, ended up fleeing to America in thirty-five. She came back to the Federal Republic a couple years after the war, but she hasn’t, to my knowledge, directed any films since then.”

“What was her name? Maybe I’ve seen some of her work.”

“Juliana Muhlfeld. She’s my father’s sister’s husband’s sister.”

“And her brother was an actor?”

“Yes,” Bertram said, “Rolf Muhlfeld. He still is an actor, actually. Their father was a stage actor in the Republic, Wernher. Also… somehow, my grandfather’s best friend.”

Diana smiled, but raised an eyebrow quizzically. “You seem to have some close contacts with artists for a lawyer. Are you the black sheep in your family?”

Bertram shook his head. “Not at all. All the men in my family, at least my father’s side, have been lawyers. My family really emphasised education, and made my aunt go to a girls’ gymnasium rather than a lyceum. They tried to get her to go to university, too, but she just wanted to be a housewife. Her mother - my grandmother - never understood it. She was practically in the first class of women admitted to university in Munich - studied law and history.”

“...A woman lawyer?”

“Oh, she never practised,” Bertram said. “It would have been impossible; could you imagine, a woman lawyer in the last days of the Empire? But she used it and her status to get my father out of the First World War.”

“She did?”

“Good thing she did, too, or else I wouldn’t be here. My father was granted permission to work at an army hospital, and that’s where he met my mother. She was from East Prussia, so it’s not as if they’d have met otherwise.” He took a sip of his merlot, vaguely aware that he was rambling. “A-anyway, what about your family?”

“Oh,” Diana said. “That’s not very interesting. My father was born a count, my mother’s father was born a count, and despite all the Reich’s efforts, my parents only ever had my sister and I. I’d love to claim my father was in the resistance or something exciting, but, well, you’ve just met him, so that’s clearly not true. He did what everyone else did, and my mother tried to teach my sister and I compassion for all people. My sister used to wander around Neu-Babelsberg after school to see if she could find any film stars - but that was before the war. We had a bombing campaign in forty and that was enough for my mother to take us to a family estate in Mecklenburg. We moved back home after the war, and our house was still standing, but my father chafed under Soviet control, so we moved to Wannsee in forty-nine. My sister’s married to a man in Schleswig-Holstein, so we still see her on holidays.”

“I have a brother,” Bertram volunteered. “Maxi. Max. Maximilian. He’s five years my elder, and he tried to get out of the draft - it didn’t work. He was in the East. The only one of my family to be; half of them were stationed in France, and my father - he was drafted, and he had military training - he was in the West, too, most of the war. My mother took me to my father’s family estate in Bavaria. My brother… was a prisoner for a while, and he never talks about it, but now he’s married to a woman named Hanne and they have a son called Erich.”

“Does your family look like you?”

“Well,” Bertram said, “we all have blue eyes. My mother’s hair’s brown, and so’s my brother, but my dad’s hair’s red. My aunt, though, has blonde hair and brown eyes, so I guess we don’t all have blue eyes. Her son, actually, Nicklaus, started studying here last year, on condition that he lived with me - which I wouldn’t have objected to, anyway. We feel like we have to stay close, besides - we’re Bavarians in a foreign land.”

“Well,” Diana said with a light laugh. “I’m Prussian, so I wouldn’t know anything about that. Wannsee is terribly like Babelsberg, only the occupying soldiers are kinder.” She took a sip of her wine. “Is your brother a lawyer, too?”

Bertram nodded. “Constitutional law. Which is… a bit tricky now, but he’s doing well. All my family except for two cousins live in Munich, and… honestly, I don’t think it’ll be long at all before my aunt and uncle leave. They’re already beside themselves letting their only son study in Berlin alone - despite the fact that he’s not alone. But they have a daughter who’ll enter Gymnasium in a few years, and I feel like they’ll move up here then if it doesn’t disturb her too much.”

“They have a daughter in primary school and a son in university?”

“Oh, their eldest, my cousin Aleida, is older than I am. Meike, their youngest, was… a special case, I think.” At least that’s how he thought he should refer to his cousin being an unplanned (but very much wanted) pregnancy. “Aleida lives in Hamburg,” he added.

“Do you have any family in the East?”

“No one that I’ve met,” Bertram said. “But my paternal great-grandfather came from Prussia, as did my mother, so I’m sure I’ve some extended family in the East or even in Poland. But I’ve never met them in that case. I suppose that’s what happens when your entire family settles in Bavaria. What about you?”

“No immediate family,” she said, “but I do have some cousins who can’t make up their minds whether to stay or go. Most of them after the revolt(3), but I think some of them… some of them find the idea of socialism appealing.”

“Well,” Bertram said slowly. “It is appealing. My family were largely monarchists and centrists, but it’s easy to see, living in a city, how working hard doesn’t always give you the result you deserve, and a system where everyone has their basic needs provided for by the state can be seductive. But for me… I’m a Christian Democrat.”(4)

“Oh, I’m not political,” Diana said. “Neither are my parents. But I am a Christian.”

He saw his opening, and he knew he had to. “Protestant or Catholic, out of curiosity?”

“Protestant. Lutheran. I hope that’s not an issue.”

Of course she was. His parents were sure to be thrilled about that, but Bertram wasn’t about to let that ruin a potentially fruitful relationship. “Not if it’s one that I’m Catholic,” he said.

“Oh, my father doesn’t care. He just wants me to marry a man who treats me well and who can support me financially.” She took a sip of her wine. “Although, we’ll have to have a family discussion later on about our children.”

“Our children?” he repeated. He’d thought this was going okay, but he hadn’t dared hope that she was thinking that far ahead.

Diana nodded. “Of course. I want to have children.”

“W-with me?”

“Unless you’re opposed…”

“I’m not opposed!” he insisted in what was probably, honestly, a bit too manic a tone. “I just… I had no earthly idea that you were thinking this far ahead…! But that’s great!” He took a sip of his wine, trying to stall and to gather his thoughts into something coherent. “I… had no idea you were as interested in me as I am in you, that’s all!”

Diana looked slightly put off, and Bertram hoped desperately that he hadn’t let everything go to hell. “You didn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

“Well, I’ve always greeted you in the mornings. I greet Herr Strohmann, of course, but I don’t greet any of the other lawyers… just you. I must admit… my first impression of you was that you were very handsome, and that you seemed very kind.”

Bertram temporarily found himself unable to form coherent words. “You… you thought that I was handsome?” he managed.

Diana smiled. “Of course.”

He went to reply, but was interrupted by the server bringing them their meals. The rest of the night went, at least in Bertram’s eyes, surprisingly well, although Diana didn’t make any more comments about their future children together. They went dancing after dinner, and he managed to get her back home before her curfew. She kissed his cheek before they got out of his car, making it clear that she didn’t want her parents to know. He walked her to the door, and said goodbye, and promised to take her out again the following weekend. She smiled and thanked him for a lovely evening, and then went inside.

He went home feeling like he was on cloud nine.

--------

NOTES:

“Sie” is the formal form of address; being young people in the 1950s they probably could switch to the informal form on a first date, but they’re both born and bred nobility, so I had them keep this last layer of formality

Nowawes / Potsdam / Babelsberg is right on the southwestern border of Berlin, next to Wannsee. From 1945-49 it was part of the Soviet occupation zone, and from 1949-90 it was part of East Germany.

She is referring to the 1953 East German civilian revolt, which was brutally suppressed with help from Soviet tanks

Christian Democrat: German centre-right party, focused on “family values” and Christian faith. Generally like pre-Reagan Republicans. This party was favored by the American occupiers due to their “christian” traditionalism, and so supported by the actual occupying forces because America loves propping up specific political parties in other countries.

#Bertram & Diana #Bertram von Brandt #Diana von Brandt #prequel

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