#and while i was there my mom saw my old 4th grade teacher and was like “omg you should go talk to her” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelengthyposts · 11 years

Text

Of peers, studying, and attitude.

As a child, my mom noticed that I was a child who was "smarter" or rather, learns faster-- than my peers. In fact, even today my mom would always boast that when I was only 7 months old, my development as an infant was already that of a 1yr old+ baby.

So I suppose I wasn't really a gifted child.. I'm no genius. But I suppose I have always been "above average."

In turn, my mom focused on my studies while I was growing up. She was always there to teach and tutor me.. do my homework with me.. even force me to study and finish my homework when really, all I wanted was to play or watch television. I remember I used to throw LOTS of tantrums.. but she always got her way. I ended up studying anyway.. and because of that, I had become a "smart kid."

When I was in 1st grade.. I was already 4th of my class. In 2nd grade, I had become 2nd (I think..). And by 3rd grade.. and 4th grade.. I had reached rank 1. I'm not really boasting. Just stating a fact. I mean, I still did play and watched lots and lots of anime but I also studied AS MUCH... thanks to my mom's help.. I didn't really mind the fact that I was "the best." I mean... THAT WAS A GOOD THING.

That was until... somewhere along the way, my peers started to view me as someone different. It was all child's play but it can't be denied that I developed major, and I mean MAJOR, side effects.

I became alienated. I was the rich kid, the popular kid, the teacher's pet, and the smart kid.. all rolled into one. What a perfect child. When the mothers of my peers started saying "Ah.. I wish she had been my daughter.." Well.. that's when things started. I suppose it wasn't my peers' fault but that of their twisted mothers' way of giving their child a challenge.. but that's another story and another rant..

So I became alienated. It hurt back then. So much.. that I developed the habit of being carefree-- too carefree-- and lazyyyy.. having an appearance and outward attitude of: "Ah.. I don't wanna study. Studying is lame.." etc.

That was the beginning of the "life-experiment" that is the main point of this blog. I had become too carefree-- all I wanted was to play.. and watch anime. Forever. And it didn't help that I was "smart" because all I had to do was maybe read the topic three times and never study it again and basically get perfect scores on exams. Indeed, I had it the easy way. And thus, I became lazy.

Then I went to the US. 5th grade. New environment.. new life. New culture. I suppose I was culture-shocked... in what I like to think as a good way.

Because we were only starting and was basically dirt poor, my school was located on what you'd call a "ghetto" neighborhood. I mean, it wasn't bad.. but it was on the ghetto side of the city. I started being independent then.. but not too much. Still pretty dependent.. but hey, I used to take the bus to school. THAT never happened before. Haha! :P

And what can I say? I LOVED IT. I fell in love in one of the aspects of American Culture-- the "don't mind others' business" part. Suddenly, my classmates no longer cared if I was smart. They didn't care who my friends were. I was me. I was just.. me. No labels attached.

And it had a positive effect on my psyche. I had become.. apathetic towards what others think of me. I just learned not to care anymore. That was good.. because the next year.. I came back home. And the people I left behind, hadn't changed. But I did. So while the labels became reattached.. I didn't care anymore and lived my life.. the way I wanted to. Without being concerned with what others thought of me-- a principle that I, up to this date 10 years later, still live by. And I'm proud to say that yes. I don't care about what other people think of me.

2 Things then: (a) I had become lazy. (b) No longer affected by how others saw me. One positive, and one negative effect.

Then came the 3rd happening.. which resulted in a negative effect. "8th grade". I had become alienated again. But unlike before, though I no longer cared about what other people thought of me.. Deep inside.. I still had this urge to make them like me. I suppose it was the hormones thing.. I was around 12 at the time.. So what did le 12 year-old me did?

I started to TRY and CHANGE myself.. catering towards what people would LIKE me to do. Peer pressure is indeed a scary thing!

The negative effects? I became rough and rowdy with my body language, hand gestures, and even the way I walked-- So they wouldn't see me as a ladylike person. To remove the shy image.

I started to talk a lot with cuss words. YES! I cussed a lot. Just so they would think I was just like any other person. To remove the rich kid label.

I had become arrogant in my choice of words. Joined them in badmouthing teachers and class gossips. So they'd think I didn't care about studies and hated school.

I even forgone fashion! Yes. Believe it or not. I started dressing up in the worst combinations. I didn't care about what I wore. Just to remove the popular kid label.

THAT DIDN'T WORK THOUGH. Because I was still the smartest kid in class at Rank 1. (Yeah. Nice try, Kid Me.)

So after a lot of drama and angst... I ran to America. Back to the culture I loved. Back to where I can be myself and stop myself from permanently becoming the person that I had become.

But that was around 2004. That was when the mainstream music and feel and mood of American adolescents were.. emo. And I. Happily embraced the culture. Inwardly.

No, I didn't wear eyeliners. Didn't dress in black (Actually wore lots of white back then). Didn't have piercings or tattoos. No drugs. No alcohols. No emo slash-wrist blogs.

But I did rejoice in the idea of.. loneliness.

Then I met friends. Good friends. And they sorta kept me sane enough. I was still pretty emo inside but I was happy. Very happy. Being "emo" was not the major state of mind that I had. It became limited.. and erased it even. (Thanks, guys! I love you!!) Now, being emo is just a distant past in my memories. Oh, and I'm still pretty familiar with the emo songs of that era.. but my affinity to the subculture remains at that.

Hanging out with my friends.. I had become myself. Again. Just like how I was in 5th grade. Oh, and I was still smart. Except now in high school, not even once did my mom do anything with my studies. They actually never attended the parent-teacher meetings too. LOL.

They trusted me. And it wasn't blind trust either. My first two years of high school was 100% straight As. Then I took AP classes.. so the laziness that I had wasn't able to properly cope with that.. hence me resulting in lower grades in the last 2 years, but hey! I still graduated as a CSF/Honor Society member and a guaranteed acceptance to UC Davis and UC Merced, so whatever! :P

Then college happened. I was still as lazy as ever. But I had become carefree and.. apathetic. Yes, I fully embraced the culture of apathy and going with the flow. SOOO much.. that I had no concrete plans for my future after college. I actually chose my major at random too. Like I didn't really care. Just going with the flow. So naturally.. I wasn't very interested in the subject matter. Thus.. I only studied enough to pass.. but still failed most of the time. Went out with friends. Prioritized unimportant things like anime/jdrama/kdrama over studying. SOOO bad. That I was actually dismissed once, the reason for which is having been on probation for 2 semesters.

Yes.. that was the time when.. I didn't really care if I passed or failed anymore. Because I had given up on learning. On my future.

I had become a goalless individual.

A fleeting existence.

Alive, but with no future.

Hopes and dreams didn't matter anymore. They didn't exist. I had began living in the moment. Not planning ahead. At all.

Then my college best friend and most of my batch mates graduated college. While I.. still had unfinished units left. That was a wake up call.

So I did my best. And was able to graduate on time (Yeah, I was trying to finish a 4-year course in 3.5 years.. -__-)

So yay! But now I'm a medical student.. I'm still failing.. Then I realized. The problem was.. MY ATTITUDE.

In high school.. I blamed the environment. My peers. The culture.

In college, I placed my blame on the fact that I was not really interested in my major. At all. I never considered a career in that field. It makes sense. How could I do well in a major I didn't even like?

Now.. I have nothing to blame. Because I want to be a doctor. Yet.. I'm still failing. Yes. Attitude problem. Too much laziness, distractions, and confidence on my part.

And I'm trying to change. Laziness had become a habit. So I must counter it by developing a new habit-- the habit of being studious.

And so.. the point of this blog is?

It doesn't matter if you hang out with the worst crowd or graduate in a good school.

In the end, it's your decision.

Your future.

Your call.

#life #introspection #blogging

0 notes

cherrymad0nna · 1 year

Text

Saccharine Hearts) 1: Elementary School Tales

Part 1- In school

We begin at the table.

Wooden table

Blue swivel chair

"Can we switch spots? I want to sit next to him."

Three cups. Red, green, yellow. They showed us how quiet we were. Being quiet was a good thing here.

Lunch just ended and we need to get in line so our teacher could get us. So we threw our food away and went to make our line.

Holy shit. He just slid across the floor so he could get in front of me and be the line leader. It's so impressive that he just did that. His name was Raymond. He had to stay behind a year. But he slid in front of me and now he was the line leader. He seemed like a mean kid and I remember what his parents look like because I saw them once somewhere. His parent's are like a shadow in my memory, I can't necessarily nail down what they looked like but the caricature I have of them is there.

Sometimes, the parents come to eat with their children. One time, my uncle came to eat with me. He is my Boro Khalou, my mom's eldest sister's husband. He worked in the marines in Bangladesh and was a commanding officer in some position I don't know which one exactly. He lived in government-provided housing where there was a badminton court in the grounds of the apartment complex. I think about how he came millions of miles and flew across continents to visit me in this cafeteria. Later he watches me throw up into the trash can because I don’t know, that's what kids in elementary school did.

"Hey, why does he comes in here every day to eat with her? He's too old to be a student." And he was too old. He was pretty much balding with a fauxhawk so you know it's 2014. He comes in here every day to sit with his daughter and eat. Every day. My pals would look at him and think about why he was here because it was out of the ordinary. Typically, parents sit with their children and eat at the "parents and children eating table", but he would just sit right there with all of the other kids and his daughter. The weight of his head was enveloped in his palm so his pupils could dilate just a little bit more. And my pals would look at him and point fun because we didn't know any better.

Sometimes, these other two parents would wait outside of her class to see her. Were they staying outside of her class for what reason? Did they just want to see their daughter? Or did they have no where else to go? I don’t know. Part of me believes that those parents were there because they simply did not know where else to go. They waited outside of the classroom that their daughter was in and waited. The dad was balding with a gray shirt and faded jeans, while the mom was wearing a black cardigan and blue shirt. Her sandals had straps on them. And her mascara was a bit too clunky. I think they were there because they had no nowhere else to go also because I saw them waiting outside of the classroom on multiple occasions. The man here has that same look as the man in the table sitting with his daughter. There was a tiredness in his eyes, like life has defeated him in so many ways but the one thing that he knows he can consistently put effort into is the ability to see his daughter and be there for her.

One day, a mom walked into my 4th or 5th-grade class. I don��t remember which one because both of them were held in the outside trailers that were also being used as classrooms. But this mother had a hijab on, like the orange-green one my mom used to wear but now we use to dry our hair. In Bangladesh, we call it an urna.

She wanted to check out her son. She walked straight into our classroom though, typically if a parent wants to check out their child, the parent will go to the front office and wait for the child. But here, the mom just walked straight into the trailer. It was strange and out of the ordinary. For some reason, there was this perception that if we saw what your parents looked like, that it was much too revealing for us as little kids. You can tell a lot about someone based on how their parents look like and act.

She was out of the ordinary though. She was the people of my people. South Asian, brown, Muslim. It's what I've been surrounded with my entire life. But that was so different from the teacher we knew. Our teacher was a blonde hair, blue-eyed white lady. That was the average at this school to be fair, most of the teachers were white women. But when this mother came into the classroom, it seemed to rupture the norms we had expected. I think that her appearance, being so dramatic and unprecedented, caused us to judge her. Or at least, it might have made my classmates judge her. And who could really blame them? These were kids that were no older than 11 and they probably just saw the first Muslim lady of their entire lives. But in those few minutes, they poked at her hijab, the patterns she wore, and the Bata sandals that protected her feet.

She walked away and went back to the front office so she could get her child "the right way".

Later the brown kid that looked like me was called up to the front office and he was checked out. Just like a regular day.

So it was just a misunderstanding then? But this lack of awareness caused a classroom of kids to look at her, judge her, and analyze her and it made me feel like I should do the same as well. It was what everyone else was doing, so I thought that I should probably follow that too.

Part two-- The bus

The bus was interesting.

I was on bus one oh four a. All of my friends were on bus eighty two b, and most of the brown kids were on one of four a. I didn't like that. I wanted to be with my friends on eighty two be. So that's what I did. I rode the wrong bus so I could be with the people I felt safe with.

In the mornings, I would skip breakfast and just go straight to the bus stop. It was right infront of my house so it was easy for me to ditch the breakfast and just go. But one morning, my nature valley bar decided it wanted to make its way back into the palm of my hand.

Hector Martinez was also at the bus stop, along with Christian Le. I would always keep my blue Adidas backpack on the couch while I ate breakfast. But on this day, I decided I couldn't finish and that it was time for me to go. The bus was going to be here soon. I grabbed my backpack and hoddled over to the front door where I would put on my busted Vans slip-on rip-offs from Payless. I loved those shoes, so I kept buying the same ones. I walked over to the bus stop, sat, and waited. Hector wasn't really someone that I liked if I'm being honest. He was just someone that was in my neighborhood and I ended up talking to him at the bus stop. But I never really liked him. He was large for his age and he was branded as one of the "tall" kids in the grade. He would talk to me about how he plays baseball. His dad and his brothers were all baseball players, and he played too. I remember his mom would smoke e-cigarettes and he said his parents don't smoke, but they just smoke e-cigarettes. He was related to Christian, whose dad would get a little too drunk at the neighborhood pool. Hector was my gateway into America. He told me about what his parents were like, the baseball games he attended, and his different brothers. I just had one sister, two grandmas, and a mom who were around most of the time. I was raised and taught by strong women my entire life, and he seemed to be raised by men. We were different.

But on this morning when I sat with him, my Nanu came to the bus stop as well. Nanu was what I called my maternal grandmother. I hadn't finished my breakfast, so Nanu walked to the bus stop and handed me my breakfast. She wanted to make sure that I ate, and because I didn't finish, she wanted to make sure that I had the energy to make it through the morning. Bengali people have something called "khao khao" culture, which translates into "eat eat" culture. It's where the parents feed their children a little too much. We don't give our children an option as to whether they want to eat or not at the moment, but they are forced to eat regardless. It's a fundamental part of the Bengali child's experience to grow up in "khao khao" culture because our parents don't want us to go hungry like they were. Nanu handed me my nature valley bar, gave me a kiss, and left.

Hector and I would ride the bus back home as well. Usually, parents wait for their children at the bus stop for them to come back home. But for me, my parents would be at work or studying, so they weren't available to see me at the bus stop. Instead, it was Dadu who would wait for me at the bus stop. Dadu was what I called my paternal grandmother. She would wear her light blue cardigan and kamise with pink flowers on it. And her hijab would match them as well. The kamise had this light blue/light pink color scheme that was in so many of her clothes and I loved how it looked on her. Hector would see my grandma as well though while she would wait for me. "Look at that old lady why does she look like that? Hahaha."

0 notes

l-egionaire · 3 years

Text

This is something made from a chat between me and @ordinaryschmuck.

Just imagine Vee attending Luz's human school and on her first day, she notices how everyone either avoids her on sight or mocks her. Whenever she tries to talk to people they scoff just call her a freak. Then she runs into one of Luz's old bullied who makes fun of her and even tries to take the hexes-hold um cards she had on hand. Vee is so scared and panicked that she punches the bully hard, but she's the one who gets in trouble because the teachers don't believe her due to Luz's bad reputation and the bully pretending to be innocent

Bully: Come on Noceda, We've been doing this since 4th grade. You should know how this works by now.

Of course, unlike Luz, Vee tells Camila and when she hears about all of this, she knows she has to have a talk with Luz.

Assume that this take place in an AU where Luz is domehow able to contact the Human World using titans blood and a pair of mirrors)

So, the next time Luz contacts home, her friends standing off to the side as she speaks with her mom Camila reveals what Vee had told her about what the kids at school did.

Luz has no choice but to admit that those kids had indeed been bullying her for years and they even made sure that the other kids all ignored her or thought she was a weirdo by spreading terrible rumors about her.

And Camila ends up asking the obvious question: Why had Luz never told her about this?

Luz admits that she saw how long and hard Camila worked and didn't want to burden her with her problems after she already made her deal with so many issues due to her getting into trouble. She also, tearfully, admits there was another reason.

Luz: Whenever I tried to tell a teacher or someone else they....they never believed me. They always took the bullies side. I was just scared that... maybe you wouldn't believe me either. That you would take their side too.

Camila: Mija, I would always take your side

Luz: Then why did you send me to summer camp?

Camila falters.

Camila: Because...Because you kept doing such reckless things! The snakes, and, and the fireworks-!

Luz: I DID THOSE THINGS BECAUSE I WANTED SOMEONE TO NOTICE ME! I just..wanted one person to look at me and not just ignore me or call me a freak. 😪

Luz finally breaks down and admits she doesnt want to go back to Earth to have to face that.

Luz: "Here I have friends and an awesome girlfriend and...and people who care about me besides just you! Mom, I'm sorry. I love you, but I don't want to go back to being that weirdo freak who no one wants to be around! I...I can't go back to being alone."

Camila: But you're not alone. You have me!

Luz: And that's not always enough!

Camila looked at her in shock.

Luz: You're gone so much at work. And, even then, you're the only one who actually cares about me! If I vanished or something happened to me, no one else would care!

Luz begins crying heavily, her whole body shaking with her sobs.

Luz: I just wanted to be able to get someone else to care about me and, and LOVE me. Like you did. But...but I never could. And after a while I started thinking maybe...maybe I just wasn't someone other people could love.

A tear drops from Camila's eye. She wanted nothing more to hold her daughter and help her but she was stuck, both on the other side of the mirror and an entire world away. Hearing Luz say things like that-that no one else cared about her, that she might not be someone that could be loved- shattered her heart into pieces.

But then, Amity comes over and hugs Luz from behind.

Amity: I love you.

Then Willow comes over and hugs her.

Willow: I love you too.

Then Gus.

Gus: Me too.

Next Eda comes and holds her.

Eda: Don't even think for a second I don't too kid.

King hops onto Luz's head with tears in his eyes.

King: IVE NEVER LOVED ANYTHING LIKE IVE LOVED YOU!

And seeing Luz crying into her friends arms, as she was finally getting the love and appreciation she'd craved all these years, it finally hit Camilla. How her daughter had felt so alone and unlovable for so long. How she'd failed to notice how much Luz was hurting. How the bright light of her life who's smile always made her feel better was now so sad and crushed, and in pain and it was because she was so ignorant, Camila just...cracks. she falls to the ground and starts brokenly crying, beating herself up inside for not seeing this before it had become such a problem.

Vee put an arm around Camila to comfort her and once Luz sees her mother crying, she immediately feels guilty because she thinks telling her about all of this made her feel bad.

Luz: Mom, I'm sorry! I-i shouldn't have said all that! I shouldn't have told you-!

Camila: NO! Don't you dare say that! I needed to know that! Don't ever apologize or feel upset about how feeli g how you do!

Luz: But...but I made you cry.

Camila: And I made you feel alone. Unloved.

Luz: No. You didn't. Everyone else made me feel like that.. You were the only person that made me feel like I actually mattered.

Luz wipes away her tears and gets a genuine smile on her face.

Luz: Coming home to be with you after being ignored and bullied at school were the best parts of my days. Hanging out with you, and watching movies with you, or going out into the woods with you to play...those were the times when I never felt alone. Mom, you were never why I left. You're the only reason I even think about going back home.

Overwhelmed by their emotions, Luz and Camila stamp themselves against their sides of the mirror and cry into them. The others just watch in silence as they whisper "I love you" and "I'm sorry" and the like to each other. Letting out all their love for each other and soothing the stings of the past caused by lies.

#The Owl House #Owl House #ToH #Luz Noceda #luz owl house #toh luz #luz noceda #camila owl house #camila noceda #the owl house camila #toh camila #vee noceda #vee owl house

386 notes · View notes

giveemhales · 3 years

Text

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 22/?

For @sterekvalentineweek Day 3

Secret Crush

4 times Stiles gave Derek a valentine, and 1 time Derek decided to return the favor.

The story can be read under the cut or on AO3!

1st grade

Derek was new, and that’s what causes the whole fiasco.

Well, not exactly new. He had been at the school since the school year had started back in August, and it was now February. But he was new in that it’s the first year anyone in his family has ever attended public school. Born into a powerful pack of werewolves with a history spanning back centuries, he had been raised surrounded only by werewolves and humans who knew about the supernatural. None of his relatives had ever gone to public school, as the risk was deemed too great to send children out in public where they may accidentally reveal their true nature. Derek and his siblings were supposed to be home-schooled, as was tradition.

However, times were changing, and their emissary had suggested the children should start attending public school. Not only was it to help the children learn how to handle being around humans and in public, but also the hunters were becoming more aggressive, and it was advised that they act as much like normal humans as possible so as not to raise suspicion.

So Derek and his older sister, Laura, were the first werewolves in the Hale pack history to go to public school. It was their first year for both of them, Derek in first grade and Laura in second. They had spent the years before learning how to control their shift under the guise of home-schooling, and the family was confident they would blend right in.

They did blend in, for the most part, never letting their eyes change color and holding back growls no matter how angry they became. But apparently, there was more to being human than just looking the part. There were all these rules and customs that everyone seemed to know except them. Derek rarely minded his family’s social faux pas, honestly never really noticing them. But on this one occasion, everyone noticed, and he was particularly upset.

It was Valentine’s Day, a holiday which his family never celebrated (why did humans need a holiday to show their adoration for their mates? How strange). The lack of experience with the holiday is why nobody in the family realized it was customary to bring “valentines” to school to share with classmates, and that’s why he arrived empty-handed.

When all the other students set up their boxes in which to receive treats, he watched in confusion, which morphed into dawning horror when he realized everyone had gifts to hand out except for him.

Derek had hoped he could slip under the radar, receive the gifts like everyone else and then maybe bring double the treats next year to make up for it.

The teacher had a different idea. The teacher scolded him in front of the whole class for being irresponsible and inconsiderate, and told him that if he had nothing to share, then nobody could share with him. He had to sit in the corner by himself and think about what he had done wrong (he was 6 years old, he didn’t have money or a calendar, this hardly seemed like his fault).

So Derek sat in the corner by himself, not only having to hear all of the other kids laugh and have a great time, but also smell the delicious treats thanks to his werewolf nose. He was used to being on his own at school, not having made any real friends, but it hurt so much more knowing he was being purposefully excluded. He had to fight hard to hold back his claws, and even harder to fight back tears. He hated this stupid school and the stupid humans in it and their stupid rules and traditions and just wanted to go home.

When the school day was finally, blessedly over, Derek shuffled out of the room with his head bowed and shoulders hunched, not wanting to see the smiles on all of the other kids’ faces and not wanting them to see the frown on his, unable to help feeling like they were mocking him.

He made it out the front doors of the school, and thought he was finally free, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned with a scowl. It was a student in his class named Stiles. Derek wasn’t really friends with him. They had played together at recess a couple of times and he seemed funny and nice, but it wasn’t like they had ever spoken outside of school.

Derek began to wonder if he was wrong in his categorization of Stiles as nice, because he could think of no reason for any of his classmates to stop him except to gloat. Before Stiles had even said anything, Derek was already seething, thinking about the treat Stiles had brought that everyone had gotten to try except for him. While most of the students had just brought candy, Stiles had brought clearly homemade sugar cookies, and the scent had had Derek salivating in his isolation.

Before he could snap at Stiles in anger, however, Stiles thrust his hands forward in an offering. Derek looked down and was surprised to see he was holding two cookies, each partially covered by a napkin.

“Sorry Mrs. Johnson was so mean to you today. She said that we weren’t allowed to give you any valentines but I think that’s mean and dumb and I don’t follow mean and dumb rules. So I saved you a cookie. Actually, I saved you two cookies, one of them is for your sister because I figure if you didn’t bring any valentines then she probably didn’t either and might have also not been allowed any treats, which would be so sad because what’s the point of Valentine’s day besides the treats. If you eat them both, though, that’s okay because you didn’t get any candy or anything so I think you probably deserve two cookies. I would give you even more cookies but I only had the one that was already for you, and then the extra one my mom packed in my lunch box. I wanted to eat that one and then I also wanted to eat yours but I realized I shouldn’t because my mom already gave me a cookie last night so I really don’t need another and also my mom bakes all the time and most people don’t get to try the greatness of her cookies and so I have a respons- responsabl- responsibit- it’s my job to share the cookies.”

Stiles finally quit his rambling to stare expectantly at Derek, who was staring back in shock. He shoved his hands forward again, until Derek finally took the offered cookies.

Derek didn’t even get the chance to say thank you before Stiles was talking again, telling some story about a time he forgot his shoes at home and how that was way worse than forgetting some valentines. He kept talking before he noticed the bus was beginning to leave, and sprinted off without so much as a goodbye.

Derek looked down once again at the cookies, and saw there was a note included. Written on a sticky note in first-grader scrawl, it said Sorry the teacher is so mean. You can be my BVF (best valentine forever). Valentine was written three different times, the first two times crossed out as he clearly wasn’t positive how the word was spelled.

Derek did end up giving the second cookie to Laura, and he found he didn’t mind because he knew the note was all his.

4th grade

Derek still didn’t particularly care for Valentine’s Day, his introduction to the holiday forever tainting his opinion, but he had still come to find himself excited about the impending sugar.

There was a storm cloud over this Valentine’s Day, though, at least for Derek and definitely for Stiles. Ever since first grade, Derek had looked forward to the homemade treats Stiles would bring, baked with love by his mother.

Derek knew that wouldn’t be the case on this day, though, because Stiles’ mother had passed away a couple of months before.

Everyone in the small town knew about it, rumors constantly spreading about the sheriff’s new drinking habits. Nobody seemed to notice the effect it had on the young boy. But Derek did.

Stiles had become more withdrawn in the months leading up to his mother’s death, presumably having to deal with her illness, but it was like he shut down once she was gone. The boy who once talked a mile a minute now was silent, except for the occasional whispers to his best friend. His absences became more frequent, and he stopped bringing a lunch to school, instead having to buy cafeteria food he would rarely eat. The worst part though was the scent of grief that constantly clung to him.

Derek saw how badly he was affected and could only hope that he would heal with time. Derek wished he knew how to help, but he still hadn’t even figured out how to make friends, let alone how to help someone cope with the loss of a parent.

So Derek knew he wouldn’t be getting any baked goods on this day, that he probably wouldn’t be receiving anything from Stiles. He just hoped that the teacher wasn’t as rude about it as his first-grade teacher had been.

Derek was proven wrong though. Stiles hadn’t brought cookies or anything of the like, but he had brought valentines. For every classmate, he had a red piece of paper which he had folded into a heart and marked with their names. They weren’t perfect, but they were definitely better than most nine-year-olds could do.

Derek was so touched at the small gift, and seethed when he saw none of the other students saw it for what it was. He even saw one student throw their heart in the trash (which Derek made a point to dig out and keep for himself because that heart was something Stiles had spent time on and deserved to be cherished). None of the students realized how kind Stiles was. That while dealing with grief, which was probably made even worse with the holiday bringing on a reminder of a tradition he could no longer partake in, and a father who himself was probably still grieving and didn’t remember he was supposed to get valentines for his son, Stiles had still made sure he had something to give to his classmates. This gift was far more valuable than anything any other student had brought.

Derek was even more touched when he realized that there was a note written inside of the heart, too. He carefully unfolded it, making sure to keep track of how he did it so he would be able to refold it, and read what was inside.

Don’t tell Scott, but you’re still my favorite Valentine.

It was made even better when he realized the other heart he had, the one from the trash, had no note, meaning Stiles had written a note especially for Derek.

Derek gave Stiles the warmest smile he could from across the room and vowed to keep that note forever.

6th grade

Derek was quick to realize Valentine’s Day was not the same in middle school as in elementary. For one, there was no making mailboxes or handing out valentines. If you wanted to celebrate the holiday, you had to do it on your own time.

The second major difference was that “like-liking” someone was a thing, and lots of girls “like-liked” Derek. Derek was apparently one of the cutest guys in the grade, and that helped immensely with his popularity. He had finally been able to make some friends, which was nice.

Derek wasn’t really a fan of all of the attention he got at school, though. He would have preferred to just spend time with the couple of best friends he had made, and ignore all of the people who wanted to be his friend solely for his status.

He knew Valentine’s Day would give some girls the perfect opportunity to confess their “feelings” for him (they didn’t even know him!) and Derek was not looking forward to it.

Derek had been correct in his assumption, and by the end of the day, three different girls had asked to be his Valentine, and he had to kindly reject them all. It was far too much for him, and he was exhausted by the end of the day.

Before he could go home, though, he had to stop at his locker to grab a textbook he needed for class.

He was surprised, and a little bit disturbed, to find a box of chocolates in his locker. It was definitely too big for someone to just slip through the slots, so someone would have had to break into his locker to get it there.

Derek immediately felt all of his annoyance of the day growing. Why could these girls not leave him alone?

However, when he leaned in to grab the box, he caught a whiff of a scent that had him calming down.

Stiles.

Suddenly, Derek found he wasn’t too upset. It wasn’t at all surprising that the boy knew how to break into lockers, and Derek found himself inexplicably preening at the thought that the boy still wanted to be his Valentine.

Taped to the bottom of the box was a typed note with no signature, clearly meant to anonymous. Derek likely never would have known who it was if it wasn’t for his werewolf senses.

The note simply read “Why don’t they let us hand out candy anymore? Middle school is lame. Don’t worry, I won’t let them ruin the holiday for you (everyone knows the sweets are the whole point). Hope you enjoy the chocolates, valentine.”

On second thought, Derek realized he probably would have been able to figure out it was Stiles, just based on the note. He could practically hear the words in Stiles’ voice. He would still let him think he got away with being anonymous, though.

Maybe middle school Valentine’s Days weren’t so bad, after all.

10th grade

Derek just knew this was going to be the worst Valentine’s Day ever, and he wished that he could just skip the whole day. He would totally pretend to be sick so he could stay home except that werewolves can’t get sick so he doubted that would fly with his parents.

Derek had broken up with his girlfriend, Paige, just a couple of weeks before. He knew that in the grand scheme of things they weren’t that serious, they hadn’t even been together for a whole year, but he had felt like he was madly in love with her.

He was healing, of course, and, for the most part, had moved on. But Valentine’s Day would just be a reminder of what he was missing (it stung every time he remembered he never got the chance to celebrate Valentine’s Day with her, he had been secretly excited to finally have a real significant other to be romantic with). That, and due to his popular status, the day would either bring on pitying looks from all of the students who thought his relationship was somehow their business, or flirting from girls who thought they now had a chance. Knowing his luck, probably a combination of both.

Derek groaned when he walked into his first-period history class and saw a heart-shaped balloon tied to the back of the desk he usually sat at. This was absolutely the last thing he wanted to deal with. He thought about just sitting at a different desk but figured it was better to go ahead and throw away the balloon before class started so as to avoid drawing any attention.

When he got to his desk, he saw a note tied to the string of the balloon. He opened it and a smile bloomed on his face when he was met with typed words.

Of course! He had been so focused on Paige that he forgot about the annual tradition Stiles had begun in the sixth grade of leaving secret gifts with notes for Derek.

Stiles wasn’t even in the class so Derek didn’t even know how he had known which desk was his, but at this point, nothing Stiles did could really surprise him.

I know they may not be the usual sweets, but I figure with this, you can tell anyone who bothers you that you already have a valentine. You know I’ve always got your back, Valentine.

The note just reconfirmed for Derek that it was from Stiles.

The gift cheered him up immensely, and he felt his qualms about the day beginning to melt away.

~~~

The day dragged on until lunch, made better by the balloon Derek carted around, which actually did help keep people away.

Derek was sitting at his usual spot with his friends when he hears a commotion from the other side of the cafeteria, and turned to see what was going on.

It seemed everyone turned to look, although he’s not sure if they can all hear. It was easy enough with his enhanced senses, though.

Derek could make out Stiles standing up on a table, looking down at a girl with strawberry blonde hair. The rest of the people at the table had faces ranging from shock to embarrassment, except for one guy who looked like he was fuming. Derek honestly didn’t know if that table was where Stiles usually sat, or if he had just decided to crash.

“Lydia, today, on the most romantic day of the year, I must make my feelings known. I know you are a goddess and I am a mere mortal, but my heart sings for you and I can no longer hide it. Reject your other suitors, for none see how brightly you shine like I do. Please accept this token of my affection, and be my Valentine.” Stiles opened up a thin box he had been holding to reveal a heart-shaped cookie cake.

Derek cringed in second-hand embarrassment, especially when he saw people giggling and filming the whole thing.

“I’ll think about it,” the girl responded in an airy voice. She was too far away that Derek couldn’t tell if she was being mocking or serious.

Stiles’ grin didn’t leave his face as he stepped down from the table. Derek saw him offer Lydia the cookie cake, but she held her hand up in rejection. Stiles shrugged and held the box closer, then grabbed his friend, who Derek recognized as his best friend Scott, by the shoulder and rushed out of the cafeteria.

Derek found himself fuming. At first, he thought it was at the way everyone was laughing at Stiles after he put himself out there, and the way the girl didn’t even appreciate what he had done. But he realized that wasn’t what it was, not really.

It was jealousy.

Derek had always cherished the tradition he had going on with Stiles (although he supposed it was mostly one-sided and it was secret), and it had made him feel special. Now he felt like it meant nothing. It was nothing more than Stiles feeling bad for the kid who once had a bad Valentine’s Day.

Derek abruptly shoved away from his table and stood up. He grumbled an excuse about having to be somewhere and stomped out of the cafeteria, annoyed he had to drag the balloon from Stiles with him. All he wanted was to pop the dumb balloon and shove it in a trash can, but knew he would regret it if he decided to do that in front of a cafeteria full of people.

As Derek stormed down the, thankfully empty, hallway, he heard a voice. He froze when he recognized that it was Stiles’ voice. He immediately hid himself against the wall, then rolled his eyes when he realized Stiles wasn’t even coming toward him, but seemed to be having a conversation in the hallway perpendicular to the one Derek was in. Derek knew there was no reason to, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“I just don’t understand why you did that! You know Lydia would never go for you!” That was Scott’s voice, and Derek couldn’t help but feel offended on Stiles’ behalf.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Scott. I feel like the more pressing issue that you could have mentioned is the fact that I don’t even swing that way, which would have been a much less hurtful thing to say.”

Derek froze. Had he heard that correctly? He felt guilty realizing he had listened to Stiles out himself, but felt frozen in his spot.

Scott sighed explosively. “Okay, so then why did you do it?”

Stiles gave an equally dramatic sigh. “Because Lydia asked me to, duh. Besides the fact I’m too afraid of her to say no, she gave a compelling argument. She’s currently fighting with Jackson and wanted to piss him off and make him jealous, and you know I’m always down to piss Jackson off. Plus, she said she would get a cookie cake and let me keep it, which, as you can see, she did. Plus, it’s not like I have a reputation to uphold. This isn’t even the most embarrassing thing I’ve done this year.”

Scott laughed. “Oh yeah, you mean like wooing the same person for years but not even telling them it’s you? Or talking to them?”

Stiles hissed out a “shut up” in anger, but Derek tuned out the rest of the conversation, feeling like he was on cloud nine.

Scott must have been talking about all of the gifts Stiles had been giving to Derek. Which meant it did mean something, and that Stiles actually had feelings for Derek. Not for Lydia, who didn’t even appreciate Stiles.

Derek spent the rest of the day feeling like he was floating, proudly holding his balloon through the hallways. It wasn’t until the end of the day that Derek that the way he was reacting was a bit over the top unless…

Did Derek also have feelings for Stiles?

12th grade

Derek felt like his heart was about to pound out of his chest, and he was certain he had already sweat through his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this nervous.

It was Valentine’s Day, his last one before he went to college. He knew if he didn’t do anything, it would be fine. Stiles would probably give him an anonymous gift like every year, and it would be a nice thing to reminisce about one day. It would be the same as always.

But Derek decided he couldn’t let things stay the same, and he was about to throw a wrench in Stiles’ plans.

He wasn’t sure at what point he had begun to develop feelings for Stiles, but he had realized in tenth grade after he heard about Stiles’ feelings that they were definitely there, and at this point they had become too deep to ignore. He wanted to be Stiles’ valentine but he wanted it to be for real this time, and the only way to make that happen was by telling him. And desperately hoping that he hadn’t completely misinterpreted everything.

Derek had arrived to school over half an hour early, parking right next to Stiles’ usual spot to make sure he didn’t miss him. He wanted to catch him in the parking lot, to hopefully stay out of the way of prying eyes.

It had seemed like a good idea, but now he was left stewing in his own anxiety, thinking about everything that could go wrong and wondering if he should back out now before it was too late. He even wondered if he shouldn’t have made his younger sister hitch a ride with someone else so that at the very least he would have company, but he knew she would only make him more stressed. Sisters were evil like that.

Fifteen minutes before school began and Stiles finally arrived.

It was now or never.

Derek got out of his car just as Stiles did, and called his name. Stiles jumped in shock and turned to face Derek. Derek caught a whiff of nerves off of him, but he didn’t run, so at least that was a good start.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”

Stiles looked surprised, but he nodded and approached Derek. “Uh, sure. Did you want to go inside, or…”

“No, we can talk out here. Actually, it’s better out here, because I have some stuff. In my car, I mean. So it’s easier if it’s here and I don’t have to carry it and we can just talk here now.” Derek realized none of what he was saying was making sense, and felt dread pool in his stomach when he saw the confusion growing on Stiles’ face. God, why was this so hard?

“I just wanted to say- uh- Happy Valentine’s Day. Well, that wasn’t all I wanted to say, but- One sec.” Derek ducked into the back of his car, glad he had an excuse to collect himself for a moment.

When he reemerged, it was with a box which he placed on top of his trunk. He was grateful to see that Stiles hadn’t fled.

Derek looked down at the box, avoiding eye contact with Stiles to the best of his ability, and began pulling out items one by one. “In second grade, you brought me a brownie, one that had heart-shaped sprinkles that your mother had baked. In third grade, it was an equally delicious cupcake.” He pulled out a brownie and cupcake (both store-bought and certainly not as good as Stiles’ mother’s baked goods, but baking was not his strong suit) and shoved both into Stiles’ hands, continuing on before Stiles could interrupt him. “In fourth grade, it was a folded heart, which I now realize was very impressive, since I’m about double the age you were when you made ones for the whole class and just this one took me about 20 tries.” He gave out a self-deprecating laugh, and once again handed the item to Stiles. “In fifth grade, it was a heart-shaped lollipop. In sixth, a box of chocolates. Seventh, conversation hearts.” He realized Stiles’ hands were too full to hold anything else, and began placing the items onto the trunk next to the box instead. “In eighth grade, it was a teddy bear. Freshman year, it was chocolate covered strawberries. Sophomore year, you gave me a heart-shaped balloon, which was actually quite useful.” He had to lean back into his car to grab the balloon, since it had been too big for the box. “Last year, it was roses. And all of it began in first grade, when you decided the nobody kid in the class with no friends deserved to have something nice, no matter what the teacher said, when you gave me the best cookie I have, to this day, ever had. You told me then, and for years to come, that I was your valentine. And as much as I loved that, I want something more. Will you be my real valentine? Will you be mine?” Finally, he pulled out a heart-shaped cookie, covered with pink icing and the words Be Mine written on top.

Derek finally looked up at Stiles, who had his mouth open in shock. He smelled like a myriad of emotions, and Derek was having difficulty getting a read on him. As the seconds passed, he began to get the sinking feeling he had royally fucked up.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles finally burst out, and barrelled on before Derek could even figure out what part he was reacting to. “You’ve ruined my ten-year plan! I have been secretly wooing you- or at least I thought it was secret- for years, and today was going to be the grand finale! I was going to confess that it was me all along and then I was going to offer you a kiss and if it was weird and you weren’t interested I had some chocolate kisses to give you so I could play it off all cool, but then if you were interested we were going to have a great, romantic first kiss. But you have out-romanced me in one fell swoop! How dare you!”

Derek stared back in shock. He felt.. actually he had no idea how he felt and wasn’t even sure what part of that he was supposed to react to first.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Stiles demanded, although Derek could see the smile hidden on his face.

“Uh… is a kiss still on the table?”

“Chocolate or real?”

“What do you think?”

Stiles pretended to think about it for a moment. “Well, after that grand romantic gesture, I would say a real kiss. But I do know you have a sweet tooth, so it’s hard to say for sure…”

“How about this? You kiss me now, and then after school we go on a date and finish that whole bag of kisses together. And all this store-bought shit I got you. Sound like a good compromise to you?”

Stiles smirked. “Sounds perfect, Valentine.”

After that, Derek helped Stiles put all of the gifts into his Jeep, and then they walked hand and hand to the school, not even caring they were probably late at this point.

Suddenly, a thought hit Derek, and he froze, causing Stiles to stumble and then turn to him with an expectant eyebrow raised.

“Wait, you said ten-year plan. Have you actually been wooing me this whole time?”

Stiles blushed, and it was the prettiest thing Derek had ever seen. “Well, not exactly. But after I gave you that cookie in first grade, I saw the way your eyes lit up, and when you smiled at me, well, my little 6-year-old heart knew you were going to be the only Valentine I’d ever need.”

135 notes · View notes

thewriteside · 3 years

Text

2002 (Anonymous Submission)

Growing up as a military brat was fun. We lived in Germany, traveled Europe and moved around. As a kid, Mom being in the Army meant “Mandatory Family Fun Days” and bike rides across Germany. Before 9/11/2001, no one talked about war. My dad had been in Desert Storm, but to 10 year old me that was “so far in history”. We moved to Texas in 1999, my dad drew the year in the concrete he poured for our front walk. We lived in the middle of nowhere. Cows were my neighbors. We didn’t mind because we still went for bike rides on Sundays and had family game nights. The only change was “Mandatory Family Fun Days” now took place at a lake with a water slide. What no one knew then was that my graduating class would have the longest in memoriam since Vietnam for our school.

On September 11, 2001 I was sitting in my 8th grade chorus class when our teacher made the announcement that a plane had hit the Twin Towers. Shortly after, the suspicion of a terrorist attack was announced, I was in history class. I remember Coach Jackson saying, “Ladies and Gentleman, pay attention, you are watching history unfold”, as we watched the news in class. That night my parents didn’t come home, the base had been locked down. At 14 I was in charge of myself and my 12 year old brother for the next 36 hours. We had no idea how much our lives were about to change.

In January of 2002 my mom’s company received their orders, they were shipping out. At first it was fun, helping mom pack her rucksacks. It was my job to stand on them to make sure everything fit. Five pairs of BCU pants, five jackets, ten shirts and as many pairs of socks as we could fit. The list was two pages long and the gear filled our entire living room. Once the last bag was locked with its small golden master lock they were set by the door. The orders had come, but no date was set.

I was 14 years old. Old enough to know how dangerous the desert would be for her, but too young to cherish the time we had before she left. Those rucksacks became a signal, if I came home from school and they were by the door, mom would be home by dinner. If they were gone, I wouldn’t see my mother for a year. Those huge green bags sat there by the door for over a month. I stopped worrying they would be gone when I came home. The rucksacks by the door became as much a piece of the decor as my dad’s ugly forest green recliner

It was a Tuesday, unusually warm even for a Texas February. They were gone. Over the next four years they stayed gone, more often than they were by the door. I felt a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, the anxiety of wondering when she would go was over, but now she was gone. My mother was in the signal battalion attached to the 4th Infantry Division. Her job was to go into the desert and rebuild the communications infrastructure that had been destroyed by the Taliban. She told us before she left that she wouldn’t be able to contact us as soon as she arrived and she didn’t know for how long we would go without talking. It was 3 months.

Over the course of my high school career I saw my mother only a handful of times. She was in Iraq for my first homecoming dance, in Egypt when I “fell in love” for the first time, in Germany when I felt my first heartbreak. Over time it became easier for me to ignore her calls than to answer. I knew she was a hero and I was and continue to be so proud of her service. But it was hard to not be angry. Being at the age a girl needs her mother most and not having her led to me feeling resentful of the career my mother was so proud of.

While my mother was across the globe, saving women and children from the terrorists, I felt alone. My mom was my hero,my best friend. Every time she said “Yes”, to Uncle Sam, it felt like she was saying “no” to me. How was I supposed to tell her I needed her more. More than whom? More than the Iraqis she was helping, more than the terrorists she was fighting? Living in a military town we were taught to be proud of our soldiers, be brave for them. If we complained we were only making their jobs more difficult. The problem with that sentiment, they never recognized, was that we didn’t ask for this. I wanted my mom but I never told her.

I can not tell you who my mother dreamed to be as a little girl, before she became a mother and a soldier. I can tell you she was the oldest of eight children, and that she is a twin. Veronica Lynn and Victoria Leigh, I only met mom’s twin once, she was nice but too quiet and she smelled like an ashtray. My mom, Veronica, worked in Westborough State Hospital when she met my father. We joke that they didn’t really work there but that’s definitely where they met. I can’t tell you how she felt the day she decided to enlist. I can tell you that she was the life of the party and we used to lay in her bed and eat junk food on rainy days watching some crime drama. I couldn’t begin to tell you what her greatest insecurities were. I can tell you that she was funny and she was always ready for the next adventure. I remember one night my mom came home, it was about 10 p.m., with an assortment of seafood. My brother and I didn’t eat seafood but when mom was in her “really good moods” there was no telling her no. That’s the night I tried shark steaks.

When I was in the 7th grade my mom was diagnosed with Hepatitis C, I used to help her with her medications and bring her cold waters. After her last tour overseas she was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. When I found out so much of my childhood clicked into place, she would leave to go to Walmart and come home with a new car. Or she couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time. Even on those crazy up or down days, we still laid in bed on rainy days and laughed. We could sit quietly for hours or never stop talking depending on the day. Serving overseas only served to exacerbate her symptoms. She was never quite the same.

Twenty years later, and our relationship is still strained. It is not completely one sided and if you were to ask her, she would say it is because I am just like her. Stubborn to a fault. To be honest, I never asked her to come home. I can not say with any certainty that she knew how I felt as a teenager. I also can not say she wouldn’t have retired the moment I let her know how alone I felt. I am now 33 years old, I have 3 children of my own and have built a life with the man I love. My mother has only met each of my children once. The last time she re-enlisted, I left Texas before she came back. I was living in Massachusetts for four months before she knew I had left the state. The truth is, I gave up on her. -Anonymous

27 notes · View notes

mcytblrconfessions · 3 years

Note

i had a dream where me and my class decided to dress up or cosplay as the characters from alvin and the chipmunks for some kind of event, we all had blindfolds for some reason?? that matched the main colors of our costumes (i wanted to be the purple chipmunk) i put on the cosplay on and went out of the changing room to see niki nihachu outside (and she was my 4th grade teacher??) flying a small blue plane and i just randomly hopped in?? while it was in the sky?? after that, i went back inside and it was the afternoon, i was still in my jeanette/purple chimpmunk costume and i was in a living room at our school?? with my mom, my sibling, and crumb cuptoast but it was just the small cat version of her that she doodles alot, me and crumb were talking to eachother and she pointed out the old static tv nobody used in the living room (it was literally the only thing in the living room besides the 2 sofas and one single potted plant) and why there was a huge keylock behind it on a wall. it was midnight, we all had protective yellow suits, crumb was now an anthropomorphic cat and we collected a bunch of huge copper keys and tried to unlock the keylock behind the tv, we unlocked two parts of the keylock(the keylock had layers or something), and we saw a little bit of what was inside, there was a dark but static background and two creepy mickey and minnie mouse disney costumes trying to escape, me and crumb looked at eachother and started to run but as we started running they broke the wall by themselves and started running after us

#confession #dreams #long post #cc: cuptoast

13 notes · View notes

bobohunn · 4 years

Text

— summary : It was tough for you to trust and open up to people, after all you've been through. When you finally let your walls down, Chanyeol left you hanging. (part 1 of 2)

— pairings : chanyeol x reader

— genre : angst, fluff

— warnings : mentions of anxiety, alcohol, bullying, & gaslighting, hints of sexual assault & harassment, description of anxiety & panic attacks.

— word count : 3.9k words (part 1)

— author's words : hi!!! I'm not really good with titles so this goes untitled for now 😅 I'll add the title when I post the 2nd part 💛 this is not proofread and edited yet pls forgive me. I'd really appreciate it if you tell me your thoughts on this! ☺️

It was a year ago today. The day when you were supposed to wake up with a smile, hearing your family’s thumping steps on the wooden floor on the way to your room. The day when your younger sister was supposed to be running towards you to attack you with kisses, your mom holding out a cake that says ‘happy birthday’, and your father following closely behind them, singing the happy birthday song with his awfully hoarse morning voice, just like the annual tradition. Rather, you woke up to the loud and thunderous knocks on your bedroom door, along with what you recognized as your father’s voice. And the second you turned the lock on the knob, the door flew and a hand met your right cheek.

You were scared, but you weren’t sure what you were scared for. Sure your dad looked scary, his face was blood red, his breathing uneven, and his hands clenched into fists, but you didn’t know what he was acting scary for. You held your cheek, trying to ease up the stinging sensation that lingered.

“D-dad?”, you managed to stutter out. Your father shut his eyes close and sighed.

You looked away and noticed your mom and your sister on the wooden staircase behind your dad. Your mom was holding her face in her hands, and your sister was rubbing her back. Only then did you realize that they were both crying.

“M-mom? S-stacy? W-what’s going o-on?”, you choked out, feeling the hot tears that were running down your face.

It was silent again, and you hated it. The silence was deafening and you swore you almost heard the cells in your brain die. You always hated situations like this, it made you feel so anxious and you were about to throw up.

“D-dad, M-mom what’s happening w-why are y–”

“You don’t have to call me dad anymore,” your dad cut you off, and you heard your mom cry louder.

“D-dad w-will you please at least t-tell me what’s going on?”, you said in between sobs, “please?”

Your dad let out another loud sigh, and you noticed his eyes getting misty. “Stacy, give me your phone. Your sister wants to know why, so I’ll show her why”, he said in a firm tone.

Stacy stood up from the stairs and took out the phone from her pocket. She handed it over to your dad, avoiding his gaze including yours. You were practically begging for her to look at you with your eyes while your dad was fumbling with the gadget, but she stood behind him, staring at the floor with her hair covering her face.

Your father handed to you the phone, showing a paused video on the screen. You pressed play, and turned the volume up. You were puzzled to say the least. The video had poor lighting but when the light source hit the surface of a very familiar face in the frame, you dropped the phone, leaving a small crack on the lower left part of the screen.

Your brain tried to put the pieces of information it recently gathered together, but you were about to pass out. Unconsciously shaking, you stumbled on your feet, and dropped to the floor. That was the last thing you remembered before your sight blacked out.

Your life today is a little bit different to how it was a year ago, yet it was still sort of the same. You moved to a different town, a different school, a different environment. It isn’t much worse now, but some people would still look at you and gossip as you pass by the same. Others don’t even stab you in the back, they hit you in the front now.

You moved with your family in the hopes of forgetting everything and starting anew, but unfortunately the news reached your new home too. Your parents insisted that you move places again when people in your school started talking, but you hated the feeling of being an inconvenience. So you did your best to heal and learn how to not a give a fuck to what others say, even if it burnt you out on most days.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be alright, they’re not hurting me anyway,” you said in the softest voice.

“Are you sure? We can just move out of the country, baby. It’s best that we just go, hmm?” she held your hands in one, and caressed your face in the other.

“Yeah. We should just move if you’re uncomfortable here, my love,” your dad added as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Then we’d have to spend money again. I know you guys had a hard time adjusting as well, especially Stacy,” you fumbled with the fabric of your shorts, “I’m okay, really.”

But even though you’ve learnt to not give a shit and shrug off what bullshit other people— who don’t even know you, by the way— say anymore over the past months, there are still times when you have to endure how painful the words you overhear from conversations of people in your school are. And when you couldn’t, you’d have to run back to your only safe place in school, the comfort room at the back of the school library to turn into a ball and cry. On some days when you think you’re all better and don’t give a fuck anymore, you hear words you tried so hard to delete from your system, and it makes you want to throw up again.

You hate whoever did this to you. However, over the process of healing, you realized that you hate those people who try to act nice in front of you, act like they care for you, act like they support you, but actually talk rotten behind you more. And you hate people who try to control you into thinking that you are the one to blame, the most, because there are times that their words sting too much you begin to doubt yourself again after trying so hard to convince yourself that you were never at fault.

It’s the first day of the semestral break, and you couldn’t be more happy and relieved to be far from society. You don’t have to do anything but lie down in your comfy bed, and binge watch your favorite shows all day. You can read books you hoarded in the past but never really touched after, as well!

“Y/N! Stacy! Come here, give these apples to our new neighbors!” your mom shouted from the kitchen.

You and your sister, Stacy peeked out of your bedrooms at the same time, and when your eyes met you both sighed.

“I was watching Stranger Things, I was in the good part!”, you whined.

“I was reading a good fic on Tumblr as well! I was in the climax of the story!”, Stacy stomped her feet playfully and you both giggled.

“Y/N! Stacy! Did you hear me?” your Mom shouted again, which made you and Stacy instinctively run down the stairs.

“Good afternoon Mister– uhmm?”, Stacy said to the man sitting on the balcony outside the house your mom sent you to for a quick mission.

“Park. Mr. Park,” the grown man smiled.

“Oh, nice to meet you Mr. Park! We’re from the house next to yours. We heard you just moved in, so my mom wanted you to have this!” Stacy beamed at him, while you stood behind her quietly.

“Oh I see! What are your names? You should come in! We had a feast for lunch, you should help us finish the food!” Mr. Park said while turning the knob of the front door.

“I’m Stacy, this is my older sister Y/n. My mom’s name is Rachel, and my dad’s is Samuel”, she said as she took off her sneakers.

“How old are you guys? I have a son who’s in the 11th grade, and a daughter who’s gonna be in her 2nd year in university.”

“I’m in 11th grade as well, Stacy is in 9th. We’re in Jungwon Highschool”, you said as you took off your jacket

“You should meet my son then! He’s transferring to Jungwon! But he’s not here now, he took the dog out on a walk in the park”, he said while grabbing plates from the kitchen.

After eating a few sweet fruits, you and your sister headed back home with two full plates of side dishes Mr. Park’s family offered. You passed by a tall unfamiliar guy carrying a black dog on the way back, and you figured maybe he was Mr. Park’s son.

It’s the first day of the spring semester, the weather's been really better the past few days and you couldn’t be any happier because it means you don’t have to wear a heavy coat to school anymore.

While walking to the bus stop, you saw a familiar guy crouching down to pet a kitten.

Cute

He picked the cat up and moved it to a spot away from the pavement onto the bushes, probably for its safety. The moment he turned to your direction, you realized he was the same guy who you passed by once, on the way home from your new neighbor’s house. He was wearing the same uniform as you, and there you confirmed he really was the Parks’ son.

The bell rang and your class adviser went into the classroom. He was with the same guy you encountered earlier, announcing that your class has a new student to welcome.

“My name is Park Chanyeol. Please take care of me”, the guy said as he smiled and bowed down. He took the empty seat in front of you and settled down.

“Pass your quizlets to the president after lunch. Late submissions will have deductions. Is that clear, class?” the 4th period teacher announced as she walked out the room.

The chime rang on the school speakers, and the lunch break started. All your classmates darted out the room, while you stayed in your seat, resting your head on the desk to take a nap like usual. Except, this time you aren’t left alone in the room. Chanyeol stayed, seemingly finishing the quizlet the teacher gave.

“Excuse me, can I borrow your eraser?” He asked, knocking on your desk to get your attention.

“Ah, sure. Here,” you pass him the black piece of soft rubber from your pencil case.

“Didn’t know they sell black ones. I should get myself one like this too. I actually hate when the white ones get dirty,” he rambled on while erasing whatever he had to erase and gave it back to you. You nod sheepishly as a response.

“I’m Chanyeol. What’s your name?” he pursed his lips while waiting for you to answer.

“I’m y/n. I actually live next to you,” you smile, scratching your nape.

Chanyeol was saying something but you weren’t really listening. Not when you heard some girls at the back door say, “what is she doing? Is she flirting with him?” “I seriously can’t believe her, after all that happened to her she has the guts to flirt with boys again?” “Maybe she thinks she can bait the new guy because he’s clueless” “and attractive, too”

You just smiled at him, and rested your head back down again, wearing earphones this time to block out whatever conversations you didn’t have to hear.

You were sitting on the bench outside your go-to place, the comfort room at the back of the school library, watching whatever random videos youtube recommended in the home section. A video of a band doing a cover of some other band’s song came up, and you suddenly heard someone clear their throat from behind you which made you jump a little bit from your seat.

“So, are you into bands?” Chanyeol asked as he sat beside you on the bench.

If you were to be really honest, you grew scared of meeting people through the past year. You really hate it when people bring up things which they are not in the place to talk about. You’d tell them if you wanted them to know, and if you wouldn’t then they just have to accept and respect it, not be a total nosy ass. And unfortunately, everyone who tried to talk to you in this school brought up things you wished they didn’t. It made you feel like they’re only talking to you to know the tea. So you shut them out immediately, afraid to be hurt by them again if you get attached to them.

Which is why you struggled to let out a response to Chanyeol’s curiosity.

Why does he want to know about that? What will he do with that information? What if he uses it against me in the future? I should be careful with what I say, I might give out too much information.

All sorts of thoughts, running in your mind right now.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he realized you were only staring with a surprised expression at him, “is something wrong?”

“U-uhm, yeah. And, n-no. I’m s-sorry,” you looked away, keeping your phone in your pocket.

Chanyeol chuckled, “why are you getting flustered? I don’t bite!”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” you purse your lips.

“You’re a shy one, aren’t you? Don’t worry! I’m good at making people open up to me” he said as he placed an arm around your shoulder, to which you flinched at.

And Chanyeol was right, he was good at making people open up to him indeed. He made you feel at ease with his jokes, but more than that, you felt safe at how he doesn’t pressure you to talk about yourself, he just waits for you to willingly share things with him. He just keeps on going on and on about what he wants to say, but he listens attentively the second you open your lips to talk.

"Oh how I love animals so much! I have a dog, his name is Toben but he doesn't listen to me. So i kinda hate him" he said enthusiastically.

"I think I've seen you once with him, the black one?" you recalled.

"Yes that's him! I used to have a cat too but he ran away from home. His name was Bach"

"I actually have a hamster. Her name is Lilie. You should meet her she's a total fluff ball" you said as you took your phone out and show him a picture of your syrian hamster.

"Oh my god she's so cute!" his eyes grew wider than it originally is.

You chuckled, "You must really like pets that much."

"Oh trust me, I even brought a rat home. My mom scolded me so much," and it's you who has wide eyes now.

You grew close to Chanyeol in a span of a few days. You would walk to school and walk home together with him almost everyday. You learned a lot of things about him, while he was also able to slowly make you open up to him. The both of you would ramble about random things while doing homework or eating dinner at each other’s house, but he never crossed the borderline and asked you about your past. You couldn’t be more grateful that you found a friend like him. It’s the bare minimum, but it’s important to you and no one really does it like that anymore, not for you at least.

“What’s the square root of 441?” He asked, biting the tip of the pen he was holding.

“21, I think? Let me check,” you said as you took out the calculator in your backpack.

“It’s okay I got it aaaand— Wow! You’re right!” He jumped out of his seat and ruffled his fluffy brown hair in amusement. You chuckled and took a sip from the tea his mom made for you.

“You’re amazing, how do you know that? Did you just mentally solve that?” He sat back down again.

“Of course not. I liked maths so much as a kid, I memorized the perfect squares at some point.” you mumbled, redirecting your focus back to the homework in front of you.

“In many years of living, I never once met someone who memorized perfect squares” Chanyeol said as he held his face in his big hands.

“Now you did”

He chuckled, “Yeah, memorable. Anyway, are you free this friday?”

You bit your lip in sudden anxiety, “I-i don’t know. N-not sure. Why?”

“Some of our classmates are going to a party, and they invited me,” he hesitated a little before he continued, “I just wondered if you wanted to come? With me?”

You feel your heart beat faster, “No, sorry. I think I’ll be helping my dad on Friday.”

“Oh it’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” whispered Chanyeol, looking back down to his homework.

Friday came, and you thought it was weird to walk home alone for the first time. You got used to chatting with Chanyeol while on the way home, and now it was completely silent. When you got home, you threw yourself to your bed. You decided to get your laptop and binge watch another series on netflix.

It was around 7:30 pm when your phone rang. You looked at the caller ID and picked up hesitantly when you realized it was Chanyeol’s. “Why would he call so suddenly though?” you whispered to yourself.

“Chanyeol?” You said as you bring the phone up to your ear.

“hey Y/N! What’s up?” he chirped weirdly, probably drunk.

“Nothing much. Are you drunk?”

“I’m wasted. They tricked me, they said it was juice. They tricked me, y/n!” you cringed at how much he was slurring his words. It was obvious that alcohol was already in control of his system.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“I don’t know. Everyone is drunk here and–” he hiccuped, “they’re all nasty. I wanna go home”

You paused for a bit, checking the time on your laptop. “Turn on your location and stay there. I’ll pick you up”

Chanyeol nodded and hummed from the other line. You quickly ended the call to run to your closet to grab a jacket, and leave the house.

You didn’t know if you were dumb or stupid, but you were sure you were either.

Why would you suggest picking him up? From a house party? Which you avoided so much with all your might?

When you reached the house that showed up on Chanyeol’s location— which took you 30 minutes to find, you had to pat yourself on your shoulders and remind yourself that you were doing it for a friend, and if you were just gonna walk away, this friend might get in trouble. You inhaled deeply before entering, a pool of evidently alcohol intoxicated bodies welcoming you.

It took you only a few seconds to spot Chanyeol, the only giant in the room. But it took you a few minutes to get to him because as he said, the crowd was pretty nasty.

“Alright time to go home now big buddy, let’s go” you tapped Chanyeol on his forearms, bracing yourself in case he’d stumble and fall.

“Goodbye my friends!” Chanyeol screamed over the booming music from the speakers. “You’re leaving already?” a familiar voice replied, and you realized it was one of your classmates, Max.

You only nodded at him after flashing a small smile. “Are you seriously going Chan? It’s too early! We haven’t been to the fun part yet!” Max said before taking a sip of whatever alcohol from his red cup.

“What fun part? I think I’m just gonna go home, Max” Chanyeol replied, seemingly sobering up a little.

“Oh you know, the fun part! When all the chics get wasted!” your mind was getting hazy at what you heard, and you nearly lost your balance. Your grip on Chanyeol’s sweater got tighter, which made him look at you.

But he didn’t answer Max, instead he turned away. You took that as a signal to go. “Yeol, the door is this way” you told him as you tug on the sleeve of his sweater.

The walk back home was messy. Chanyeol was silent but he was walking in zig zags and you had to hold him up a couple of times because he would fall asleep while walking.

“Y/n?” you hummed in response.

“Nevermind” he replied. Honestly you were nervous, what did he want to say? Is something wrong? But you only let it go.

“Y/n.”

“Yes Yeol?”

He stopped walking, “Why don’t you ever tell me anything about you?”

“What do you m-mean? I tell you about myself too,” you managed to mumble out.

“No, you don't,” he said in a tone an octave lower.

You held onto his arm again and dragged him with you, “Yeol, you’re drunk let’s go now.” He allowed you to pull him and just walked along, still in zig zags.

When you were in front of his house you took your phone out to call his sister, to help you get him in. You helped him sit down on the chair outside while waiting for her to pick up.

“Y/n, you know I’m not one to pry, right?”

You looked at him in confusion, you slowly nodded. You waited for him to continue.

“But I really have to ask this,” he said as he played with the zipper of his backpack in his hands, not looking at you.

“What is it?” you shivered.

“By any chance, were you from Hyundai Highschool?” he finally looked at you, straight in your eyes.

You didn’t know what to do or what to feel. He was sober now, and you could tell he knew what he was talking about. Many questions were popping in your mind, yet your brain felt empty. You weren’t able to form anything to say. You only backed away from him, and then ran away.

You went straight to your room, ignoring your father’s attempt to hug you. You fell to the floor the moment you closed the door.

Why did he ask you that?

How did he find out?

Were people talking about you at the party?

Did someone gaslight you at the party, again?

Will he judge you too?

You spent the whole weekend locking yourself up in your room, overthinking about the same things over and over again. You were almost sure someone told him from the party, and he will probably think differently about you now. But you are honestly hoping that he wouldn’t. He’s a good guy, isn’t he?

Monday came, and you were mentally preparing yourself to talk to Chanyeol while preparing your lunch box. You made sure to go out earlier than usual to wait for him so you could walk to school together, but to no avail. There was no sign of your giant friend going out of the house next to yours. You had to run to school or you would be late for the first period.

When you reached the classroom you looked around but Chanyeol wasn’t there. You caught your breath and sat down quietly on your seat. There was barely 2 minutes left before the first period, and you were worried for Chanyeol.

“Hey Y/n, where’s Chanyeol? You didn’t come together?” one of your classmates asked. You shook your head no, but suddenly the back door opened.

There he is

He took his seat in front of you but he didn’t spare you a smile, not even a glance.

The whole day went by with Chanyeol avoiding you and ignoring your attempts to talk to him. He looked at you at some point, but with sad eyes and a small smile. After that, you decided to give up and let him be.

You know—you think you do, why he was acting that way, and you don’t blame him for it. But you at least need to hear it from him, rather than assume things which could be entirely wrong.

You didn’t expect him to pull you to the school garden at dismissal, though.

“Y/n. I know I’ve been such a horrible friend today,” he paused. He looked down, avoiding your eyes.

“but I don’t think we should be friends.”

90 notes · View notes

mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

Note

What did the moment you realized/affirmed that losing your sight didn't mean losing all the things you've used to reading (ie social media/movies/books)? If you had to deal with it, that is, I've only recently followed you and might have missed something. I'm rather near sighted and my great grandmother (who raised my mom) was blind due to glaucoma not being treatable at the time. I got glasses at 9 thought I've been terribly near sighted since forever. So as a kid I used to think about maybe going blind a lot and I try to be conscious about blindness as much as I can. Reading and writing is such a major part of my life, I know I won't lose it should I lose my sight, but it's still made me hyper aware of accessibility in regards to sight.

So, I was usually okay with my vision loss as it happened. I certainly had bad days and breakdowns, but for the most part I was emotionally okay. I think a huge part of that was that I had exposure to blindness in media that wasn’t all bad rep, starting from when I was a kid:

1. My 4th grade language arts textbook had a short non-fiction story about a high school girl who was blind and what kind of changes she made, like having a cane and putting braille labels on everything. She still went to high school, had friends. There was a photo that was edited to be blurry in what I hope was a way similar to what she experienced. There was something incredible about it because to me she was just a normal person who saw differently, but her life was normal. Whoever wrote that short story did a good job if that was my takeaway at nine years old.

2. There were a few books I read around that age with disabled characters, including Of Sound Mind ( M C is hearing but his whole family is Deaf) and Things Unseen ( M C wakes up one morning invisible. While trying to solve the how and why of that he visits the library and physically runs into a blind girl. They start talking, he thinks she’s cute, it’s a romance. Cute story. I can’t remember if the girl was homeschooled or did special education, but part of her education was listening to audio books at the public library in pre-audible times. She also had a cane. I don’t remember much beyond that on accuracy)

Having books available to me as a kid with prominent disabled characters or stories about real blind people did normalize it for me

Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of bad rep I found too, but it was easier to look at it and say, “I don’t think that’s quite right” because I had some good rep in there too.

3. At the school I attended from 7-9th grade, there was a girl a year or two older than me who was blind and I would see her every day between classes. I remember she had a cane one year, and then a black lab guide dog the next year. She also had a teachers aide going to classes with her. I remember she was in one of the advanced choir groups, but how I knew that was because in 6th grade my school took a field trip to that school to prepare us for middle school and we saw a choir performance which involved the girls singing and dancing, and after the performance my friend told me that one of the girls was blind and had a cane. (I was very nearsighted as a kid, I could not have seen that from where I was sitting)

I remember my thought process at that point, and it wasn’t “oh, so blind people can dance too.” It was, “oh, she must have worked hard to get the dancing right.”

4. There was a boy in my 9th grade English class who was blind, also had a cane and a teachers aide. I was too shy to talk to anyone, but I remember thinking he had chill vibes and that he was funny. He was one of the easier kids in that class to talk to.

That’s all the exposure I think I had before my vision loss symptoms began, which was when I was 17, though I had no way of knowing how serious those symptoms were going to become until I was in my twenties.

A big thing for comfortably transitioning (emotionally) with my vision loss was Molly Burke, who began her YouTube channel in 2015. I think I found her channel in the summer or fall of 2016, right as my symptoms began to evolve from “inconvenient” to painful, concerning, and difficult to deal with. She’s only a year older than me and while she came across more closed off and introverted in the early part of her YouTube career, she was incredibly personal and relatable. She had a career, she had lived alone in a big city, she traveled for work, and was incredibly independent.

But more importantly, she was independent because of the blindness life skills she had spent her life learning. O&M, Braille, using screen readers on her laptop and phone, shopping and picking her own outfits with a combination of touch and communicating with a sighted loved one. Having a set routine for everything, including makeup. She had her shit down because she’d practiced at it. So, reasonably, I could get my shit together if I took the time to learn how too.

Individual moments are harder to come by, but here is a distinct one:

-My first time using a cane was life changing because I wasn’t scared of my next two steps anymore and I could walk on my own again. The first moment of walking independently without anxiety was its own high, because I had taken a small part of my life and independence back.

For an essay, I would write: Through the internet, I found the disability community and blind role models who were living independent, happy lives because of the adapted life skills they learned.

I found my blind role models through the internet and studied what skills and changes they’d made to their lives and incorporated them into mine.

(kind of a spin off on that, but it gave me the following sentences)

This meant reaching out to schools for the blind, and

(which isn’t the prettiest sentence, but you’re looking at the first draft and my thought process. I pick the best bits and move forward with that. This whole process is me getting all my thoughts out and finding the most important details and translating them into something concise and simple)

#college applications #mimzy things #Anonymous

23 notes · View notes

lynelovespopculture · 3 years

Text

THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA CHAPTER 14-A SPELLMAN FAMILY SOLSTICE

Faustus and Zelda had a long recovery in front of them. Faustus had only awakened 1 hour before his wife so they were healing at the same time. They both were assigned to complete bed rest for the next 3 weeks. In that time, they rested, snuggled together, and watched the defeat of Blackwood video numerous times. They both agreed that there was no foolproof way to get rid of Blackwood forever; they had to just keep their guard up and hope for the best. Zelda also told Faustus how Lilith had reclaimed hell for herself and found happiness with a new Adam. After the 3 weeks of bed rest, Faustus and Zelda were up and around and just in time to help celebrate Sabrina’s 18th birthday. (Since this was Sabrina’s last year at home before college, new rules were set. Thursday nights were family dinner night, absolutely no excuses for not attending, and Sunday was family movie night.)

Later that week, Faustus and Zelda managed to find some time to sit down with just the twins to have a serious talk about the adoption. Zelda explained that this adoption was less about guardianship, as the twins were almost 17, but more of a show of commitment to be their mother. Zelda nodded with understanding when they told her that they wanted time to think about it. Yet, there was 1 issue that the male twin didn’t need to think about at all. Just like his sister, Judas wanted to forget about his life with Blackwood. Soon enough, he confessed that he hated the name of Judas, so with his parents’ full support, changed his name to Jacob. It wasn’t long at all until he was used to the family calling him Jake. 3 days later, Faustus took Zelda for a romantic dinner in the fanciest restaurant in town. As they clinked their wine glasses together, Faustus explained that it was the 1st anniversary of him being free from the curse. Hearing this, Zelda re-clinked the glasses.

“To the first of many, many years,” She smiled.

They went home, and make wild, passionate love before drifting off in each other’s arms. Late that night, Zelda turned around and found herself alone in bed. She caught Faustus at the entrance of the attic, which Ambrose and Jake now shared.

“I still can’t believe we’re all home now,” Faustus whispered as his wife linked her arm with his. With a kiss, Zelda led him back to their room, where they made love for the 2nd time that night.

Their 1st solstice all together as a family was a very special one. LJ and Jake were both all smiles as together, they handed Zelda a gift. After wrapping it, Zelda gasped, for the box was filled with papers, but not just any papers. On top were the half-filled adoption papers and beneath that, were papers for legal name changes. The twins explained that not only did they want to be adopted but they were also ready to become Spellmans. All the family couldn’t agree fast enough. Zelda did a pretty good job of blinking back her tears of joy, or she did, right up until the twins called her ‘mom’ for the very 1st time. This happened right after Zelda gave LJ and Jake their Yule present. A thick photo album filled with pictures of their birth mother, Constance, at every stage of life so the twins could look at it whenever they wished.

In the new year, after Hilda and Dr. C celebrated their 1st anniversary and Zelda filed the paperwork for the twins’ adoption and name changes, plans went full steam ahead for LJ and Jake’s joint dark baptism. Jake kept it simple, by picking Jacob Faustus for his baptismal name. LJ’s was longer. LJ explained that her name was to be Letitia Judith Constance Zelda.

“To honor both my mothers.” LJ smiled and Zelda kissed the girl on the head, blinking back happy tears once more.

The baptism, attended by family and coven alike, went off without a hitch. For the next few months, the Spellmans’ lives were blissfully quiet and uneventful. Their lives revolved around work, school, and most importantly, each other. On April 2nd, the whole family gathered to celebrate Cordelia’s first birthday. They threw a party, of course, with cake and gifts but it was Faustus and Zelda who got the best present that day. It was later that night after they readied Cordelia for bed, they sat Cordelia down in front of her crib as they did for the last 3 weeks. It was normal when Cordelia pulled herself up to the crib with her tiny hands but then something new happened. Cordelia took her hands off the crib and took her 1st few unsteady steps towards Zelda. She playfully touched her mother’s cheek before saying her 1st word loud and clear. “Mommy!” After kissing her daughter silly, Zelda turned Cordelia around so she could walk to Faustus. The baby took 3 steps before she stumbled on the 4th and would have fallen but Faustus managed to catch her. He was rewarded with a giant smile. “Daddy!”

Spring and summer flew by and before anyone knew it, it was September again. Everyone came out to see Sabrina and LJ, who graduated a year early, off to college. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. When she was 3 and big enough for a big girl bed, Cordelia was given Sabrina’s room by her still at college cousin. The following year, Hilda, Faustus, and Sabrina convinced an uneasy Zelda to allow Cordelia to attend mortal kindergarten, just like Sabrina before her. Cordelia’s parents sat her down and explained to her not to talk about witches or use magic at school. They also kept their promise to the witch’s council, to keep them updated on Cordelia’s magical development. Yet, there was little to report. The baby who cried the devil out of the house was growing up as normally as any other little witch, except for a slammed door or a few floating items. Her powers were at their strongest when her emotions were at their peak. One afternoon, Cordelia wanted to play outside but Hilda explained she couldn’t because it was raining, hard.

“I don’t want it to rain!” As soon as Cordelia stamped her foot, the sun came out. Hilda stared wordlessly, yet Cordelia didn’t even seem to notice. It was on the 1st day of school that Cordelia met Erin, Emily, and Erica Warner, mortal triplet girls who quickly became her BFFs. Meanwhile, with his youngest now in school, Faustus was feeling a little lost. Ambrose and Jake formed the perfect team to run the funeral home together and the rest of the family were busy with their own thing. 1 night, Zelda suggested her husband should return to teaching. Zelda knew she got through to him and was waiting for Faustus to ask her to return to the academy. So, she was shocked when he told her he gotten a job at Greendale middle school, teaching 7th grade. Theo Putnam was also a new teacher.

It was a cold night in the late December of Cordelia’s sixth year that the child awoke with a start.

“Who’s there?” She demanded with the greatest demand she could mutter as she sat up and looked around the darkened room. She looked around and saw nothing, yet she felt someone was nearby. Cordelia sighed, this wasn’t a new feeling. She pulled back her blankets and got up. Might as well go to the bathroom while I’m awake. She thought.

“Hey, Salem.” Cordelia petted Sabrina’s familiar on her way back to bed. Then she picked up her favorite doll, tucked it under her arm, sighed as she laid down, and closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, sunlight tickled at Cordelia’s eyelids. 1 quick look at the clock and she jolted out of bed and down the hallway. Her own school had let out for Christmas yesterday, but the academy was a year-round boarding school that demanded much of its headmistress. Cordelia felt that she spent less than 10 minutes with her mother all week. Maybe it was still early enough to catch her. She stopped short in her parents’ doorway. Not only was no one in here, but the bed was made and everything was neat, suggesting that both her parents left long ago.

“It's not even 9 yet! Well, so much for that idea.” Cordelia muttered as she headed for the steps. Downstairs, Cordelia found her brother fluttering back and forth before the front door as if he was preparing to go out. “Where’re you going, Jake?” she asked from the stairway.

Jake looked up, pausing as he put on his coat. “Good morning, Cordy. Mom just called, she needs someone to fill in for her with the choir ASAP.”

“Mom’s already at the school?”

Unfortunately, Jake was too busy to notice the sadness in his sister’s tone. “Yeah. Bye.”

Cordelia was left to frown at the closed door when the wonderful smells finally reached her nose. Those smells only appeared when someone special visited. Now wearing a tiny smile, the 6-year-old ran into the kitchen and hugged the visitor from behind. “Hi, auntie H!”

Hilda, who was baking, half-turned and gave her niece a 1 arm hug. “Hello, darling.”

From his stool 3 feet away, Ambrose waved. “Hello, cousin.”

“Hello, another Spellman who no longer lives here.” Cordelia teased good-naturedly and Ambrose laughed. He and Prudence had only moved into a small apartment together downtown 3 months ago.

Meanwhile, Hilda wiped her hands on a towel. “It’s cereal alright for breakfast?”

Cordelia smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.”

“So, Cordy, how did you sleep?” Asked Ambrose.

“Good! For the most part.”

Ambrose and Hilda exchanged a look. “For the most part?” repeated her aunt.

“Ghostbusting again, cuz?”

Cordelia gave Ambrose an annoyed sideways glance. “No, Ambrose. Ghostbusting would imply that I actually see the spirit.”

Ambrose was now confused. “Wait, you don’t see the ghosts? Ever? But you had this problem for a while.”

“Since before feasts of feasts as I recall,” Hilda added.

“I don’t understand. If you can’t see them, how do you know they’re ghosts?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know, it’s just a feeling. Most girls my age are scared of ghosts; I just want them to make up their minds! They should show themselves, tell me what the problem is so I can help or just let me be so I can sleep at night.”

Hilda and Ambrose both had nothing to say so they just stared at the girl. Cordelia sighed, what was needed now was a change of subject and she found it on the serving tray. “Who pops popcorn this early in the morning?”

Ambrose sprang to life. “Oh, I almost forgot! I was supposed to bring out the cranberries and popcorn to Dr. C and Uncle Faustus. They finally setting up the Yule tree!” Ambrose grabbed the tray and rushed out of the kitchen.

“Well, I got to go too,” Cordelia announced.

“Why?” Asked Hilda.

“Because my bowl of cereal was on that tray!”

Hilda laughed, shook her head, and returned to her baking.

“I swear, we get this tree up later and later every year.” Faustus sighed.

“Well, we’re busy men,” Dr. C assured him. “Me at my bookstore, you at the middle school. Here comes Ambrose, at last.”

Faustus smiled as the younger warlock rushed in. “We were beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”

“I’m so sorry that it took me so long,” Ambrose said. “Aunt Hilda and I got to talking and then Cordelia walked in.”

“Oh? Cordy’s up?”

“I sure am!” The child was right on Ambrose’s heels. She was closer to Dr. C so she greeted him first. “Hi, Uncle C” She hugged him and then went over to her father. “Hi, Daddy” she giggled when Faustus kissed the cheek of his youngest child. The 2 men went back to trying to steady the tree, as Ambrose found a chair and began to thread the popcorn and cranberry strings together. After reclaiming her breakfast, at last, Cordelia sat on the sofa and asked about the only thing on her mind.

“How long ago did Mom leave for the academy this morning?”

“About an hour and a half to 2 hours ago” Faustus answered casually. “Why? Do you need her?”

Cordelia frowned. “No, I don’t need her per say, but I do miss her. It’s like I barely have seen her this week.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Faustus soothed his daughter. “While it’s true that Solstice demands more of the high priestess’s time than normal, all she has to do is get through today and perform tomorrow’s midnight mass then Zelda will be free to spend the rest of the holidays with us.”

“Don’t forget when we go get the girls tomorrow.” Dr. C added. “Zelda would never miss that.”

Although both LJ and Sabrina left for college 6 years ago, the girls were still away for their education but for different reasons. Unlike Jake, who left a year after his sister and cousin and return 2 years later, business degree in hand. Poor Sabrina was having a tough time, having changed her major 3 times. On the flip side, LJ had not only completed university in record time but was enrolled in 2 different medical schools. When done, LJ would not only be 1 of the few female witch doctors, she would also be the 1st witch doctor trained in mortal medicine. With a sister on her way to glory and her mother already in the history books as the 1st high priestess, Cordelia was extremely proud of her family and sometimes wondered if greatness lay in her future as well. Having finished her breakfast, Cordelia now lay the now-empty bowl on the coffee table and went to the old cardboard box that held the tree decorations. After a few seconds of digging around, Cordelia was able to her favorite one. It was a diamond full moon on 1 side and the other side was a picture frame. The picture itself was taken on her 1st solstice. It was of Zelda, Faustus, and Cordelia herself, when she was still just a baby. While Cordelia stood admiring the photo, Dr. C lost his balance on the step stool and bump into the girl, causing her to lose her grip on the glass moon and it smashed on the floor.

Dr. C rushed to the child’s side. “Oh Cordelia, I’m so sorry!” He hugged her.

Cordelia put on a brave face. “It’s okay, uncle C. We have lots of others.”

As they spoke, the fragments of the glass moon float up in the air and magically fixed itself.

“But this 1 is your favorite,” Faustus held it in the palm of his hand. “I know because it’s my favorite too.”

Cordelia smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

Putting up the tree nearly took all day. Cordelia was excused because right after lunch, the Warner triplets called their friend to come with them to go to the mall to see Santa. Cordelia was gone all afternoon and returned just in time for dinner yet her mood seemed to change. She was quiet and seemed angry. At first, Hilda thought her niece was annoyed because Zelda called to say that she was too busy to come home for dinner. Then, in the middle of supper, Jake knocked over a glass of water. On the other side of the table, his baby sister jumped up in horror.

“You should be more careful!” She shouted before she ran out of the room. Faustus and Hilda found Cordelia in her room pacing back and forth before her bed. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry!” She muttered to herself.

“Cordy? What’s wrong?” Faustus asked.

His daughter looked up, frowning. “You should have told me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“THAT OUR KIND CAN MELT!!” Cordelia shouted.

Faustus and Hilda exchanged a confused look. “Cordelia, love,” Hilda said gently, “what exactly did you and your friends do this afternoon?”

Cordelia sighed. “After the trip to the mall to see Santa, Mr. Warner invited me back to their house for hot chocolate and it was there that Erin, Emily, Erica, and I watched a movie.”

“What movie?” Her father asked.

“The Wizard of Oz.”

Both Faustus and Hilda felt instant relief. Hilda left to go inside the bathroom while Faustus took his daughter by the hand, guided her to the bed, so they could both sit down.

“Darling, while it’s true the mortals have short lives, while we witches can live for centuries and centuries. Surely, we can’t live that long if we are in danger of something as common as water.”

“But in the movie-“

“The movie is not real. It’s pretend, make-believe. You remember when you, Mommy, and I had our talk about make-believe?”

Cordelia nodded. “I remember, but it’s so confusing! After all, mortal parents tell their children that witches are make-believe.”

Faustus nodded. “That’s true but I can prove I’m right! Think back to every mass you attended, all the times Zelda took you with her to the academy, have you ever, after all that time with the coven, even seen a green witch?”

“No. Hey, wait a second, I didn’t tell you that the witch was green! How did you know?”

Faustus laughed. “The Wizard of Oz is a very famous movie and you’re not the 1st witch to get spooked by water after seeing it. I guess you could call it a witch childhood rite of passage by now.”

“Your father’s right,” said Hilda, coming toward the bed, glass in 1 hand. “When your cousin Sabrina saw that movie, she reacted the exact same way you did. That’s when Zelds and I came up with the test.”

“Test? What kind of test?”

“Come here and I’ll show you.” When Cordelia didn’t move and kept staring at the glass, Hilda tried again. “What’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?”

This softened Cordelia immediately. “Of course I do, Auntie H.” The child got off the bed and came forward and Hilda knelt down to look her niece in the eye. “Now just give me 1 of your fingers.” Cordelia offered up a finger. Hilda took it and put the tip of the finger just under. “Now, how does that feel?”

“Wet.” Was the child’s only reply.

Hilda laughed. “Yes, it’s wet, but what else? Does your finger feel like it is going to fall off or melt?”

Cordelia smiled and shook her head. Hilda smiled. “Good, the test has worked in our favor yet again.”

“Thank Hecate!” Faustus added. “Can you imagine how foul our world would be if none of us would be allowed to bathe?”

Cordelia laughed at her father’s funny face as Hilda kissed her brow.

A few hours later, Faustus turned down the bed as Cordelia got ready in the bathroom.

“Cordy, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“Doing it right now, Dad.”

Faustus couldn’t resist. “With water?”

First, there was silence then came a low moan. Faustus smiled to himself.

Cordelia switched off the bathroom light and walked more into her bedroom. “Hecate, I’m dumb,” She muttered.

When she was close enough, Faustus put his arm around his daughter. “You are not dumb. You, my girl, are 6. Considering how you speak and behave most of the time, it’s easy to forget how young you are.”

Cordelia gave a half-smile. “Still young enough to be read to?”

“Not very subtle, miss Spellman.”

Cordelia giggled and crawled into bed as Faustus grabbed the book on the nightstand. Some little girls like fairy tales, most, at least, like a story with a plot. But most nights, Cordelia favored spell books, especially the Latin ones, even though Cordelia didn’t speak the language. She said it soothed her faster. Tonight, Faustus only read a page and a half before Cordelia was fast asleep. He tucked her in and tiptoed out of the room. The next thing Cordelia was aware of; someone was arranging her blankets. Her 1st thought was that the troublesome ghost was back but she was instantly awake when she saw who it really was.

“Mommy! I missed you so much today!” Cordelia sat up and threw herself into Zelda’s arms.

Zelda kissed her brow. “I’ve missed you too, little one. I didn’t mean to wake you, but your father told me that you had a scare today.”

“That’s not important,” Cordelia dismissed. “Will you come with us to pick up LJ and Sabrina tomorrow morning?”

Zelda nodded. “I will, but I must get back to the academy by early afternoon at the very latest.”

Cordelia frowned. “But tomorrow is the day before Solstice. You always spend it with us.”

“I know precious but we’re so behind this year. I mean, the church is not yet decorated or prepared for midnight mass yet.”

“How about I go with you? That way you could get your work and we could still be together.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No! Wait! Don’t go yet.” Cordelia grabbed her book. “Read to me.”

“It’s late, Cordelia.”

“Please, Mom?”

Normally, Zelda would have held firm but she felt massively guilty about barely being home lately. Zelda sighed and took the book. “Move over.”

An hour later, Faustus went to look for his wife and found Zelda and Cordelia snuggled up together, both fast asleep. Faustus went to Zelda to whisper to her. “It’s late, my love. We’re going to have to leave for the airport, well, in just a few hours now.”

“Mmm,” was Zelda’s only reply.

It was only then that he saw the book. “Did Cordy get another story out of you?”

Again, “Mmm.”

“Dearest, are you asleep?”

“Mmm?”

Faustus smiled. “That’s what I thought.” Gently, he put 1 hand under Zelda’s head and the other 1 under her knees. Then he carried Zelda out of Cordelia’s room and back to their own bed.

Even though they had only been home a few weeks before for feats of feasts, Sabrina and LJ’s homecoming was a joyful one. At the airport, there was much hugging and kissing, done by all the family. The morning flew by with all their laughing, talking, and catching up. After lunch, most of the family went to the church with Zelda to help set things up, yet Sabrina went for a different reason. All Sabrina had to do was wait for an opportunity to talk to her aunts alone. She got 2 and chickened out both times. Fed up with her own failure, Sabrina teleported herself back to Spellman’s kitchen and groaned.

“Just tell them, you coward!”

The loud whistle of the kettle startled Sabrina. She turned and saw Faustus at the stove,1 of his eyebrows rose. “Something wrong, Sabrina?”

She could feel her eyes watering. “Yes.”

Faustus said the 1st thing that came to mind. “Are you changing your major again?”

Sabrina shook her head. “No, I’m not changing my major. I’m not going back to school at all!” There, she finally said it.

For his part, Faustus got out 2 cups and saucers, poured the tea, and sat down at the table with Sabrina.

“I can’t seem to bring myself to tell Auntie Hilda and Aunt Z. I wasted 5 years, 3 majors, and all that money. My aunties are going to be so disappointed.”

In an effort to comfort his niece, Faustus took Sabrina’s hand in his. “All your aunts have ever wanted for you is to be happy.”

“I tried, I tried so hard.” Sabrina’s lip quivered.

“I know,” Faustus soothed. “Maybe this could be a blessing in disguise,” he suggested. “Maybe, by taking a semester off will help you relax and figure out for sure what you really want to do.”

“But I was sure all those times I change my majors,” Sabrina stressed.

“You know, 1 of my favourite teachers once told me that the secret to professional success is to pick something that you love and are good at.”

“But I don’t know what I’m good for a job.”

“What about helping people? You’re good at that.”

“But that could any career.” Sabrina pointed out.

“How about a therapist? I would be lost without mine.”

Sabrina smiled. “A therapist? Me? You remember I’m the one who causes most of the problems around here?”

“Oh, that was when you were a teenager,” Faustus dismissed. “You’re grown up a lot since then. Besides, if nothing else, the outlook of a half-mortal, half-fallen angel raised by witches is bound to be interesting.”

Sabrina laughed. “True. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks, Uncle Faustus.”

He was shocked. “You’ve never called me uncle before.”

“I know but it’s high time I did.”

“Dad? I’ve been wondering something for a long time, but I’m not sure how to ask.”

It was late that night and Faustus was readying Cordelia for midnight mass. In his opinion, she looked great. His daughter was wearing a new red dress, her white winter tights, and shiny black Mary Janes. He was now adding the finishing touch of a ribbon in her red hair, exactly like her mother’s. “Cordy, don’t be scared. You know you can ask me anything.”

“Okay, Dad, don’t you believe? I mean, I know that Uncle C isn’t a warlock, so it makes sense that he doesn’t share our faith, but why don’t you believe?”

“But I do believe, sweetheart. I was baptized the night after you were born.”

Cordelia seemed confused. “You were?! Then why don’t you ever attend mass?”

Faustus sighed. “You have to leave in a few minutes and it’s a very long story and I promise that someday we will discuss this in greater detail, but for now all I can tell you that when I was high priest, before you were born, I did things that I am deeply ashamed of. The coven has since forgiven me but I am still weary of being near them. I do attend mass, in fact, I’m there every week, but I don’t sit up front with the rest of the family, I actually like to sit in the very back pew. I also like to be the last one to arrive and the first one to leave. I like it when the coven doesn’t even notice me.”

Cordelia thought for a moment and then said, “Are you sorry about what you did?”

“Oh, Hecate, yes! I’m sorrier than anyone can ever know.”

Cordelia shrugged. “Then the coven has to forgive you. It’s just good manners.”

Faustus hugged his daughter, grateful for her innocent logic.

A little later, Cordelia found herself at the church, sitting in the front pew with Hilda, Sabrina, Ambrose, and the twins while Prudence sang in the choir. Even at 6, Cordelia felt proud that it was her mother who performed the service, glorious in her white and gold robes. During the middle of the service, Cordelia took advantage of her end seat and looked toward the back. Sure enough, she found her father, who waved at her. After mass, Cordelia stayed behind to help clean up and help her mother say goodbye to the coven. When they drove home, there a raven haired woman near the stairs. Cordelia didn’t know who the lady was but, judging the way her mother was gripping the wheel, Cordelia guessed her mother did.

“Is she the one who keeps bothering you?” Zelda asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Mom, who is that?”

“Go inside and get dressed for bed, Cordy. It’s late.”

Cordelia did as she was told but she did pick up some bits of dialogue.

“Bright solstice, Zelda.”

“What are you doing here, Lilith?”

“Come now, surely I’m allowed to check up on my son’s future bride.”

That was all Cordelia heard. 10 minutes later, Zelda came into Cordelia’s room to kiss her daughter goodnight.

“Mom? I heard you and that lady talking. Who’s getting married? Prudence or LJ?”

“No one in this house is getting married!” Zelda declared firmly.

Zelda went to bed mad and woke up even angrier. “I don’t get it, Faustus.” She said to her husband as they went downstairs for breakfast. “We heard or seen nothing of Lilith these past 6 years and the 1st thing she mentions is that stupid marriage contract that I signed in invisible ink and can’t possibly be binding. Lilith knows that! What game is she playing at?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Faustus answered honestly. “Whenever it is, we’ll deal with it together like we always do. Today is solstice. It’s time to celebrate that and the fact that this is your 1st day off in weeks. Then, later on, tonight, I get to show you how terribly I and our bed, have missed you.” He kissed her hard before they walked into the kitchen, hand in hand.

According to tradition, the family waited until sundown to gather round the Yule tree and start exchanging gifts. Half an hour later, the get together was in full swing, with music, talking, and laughing all filling the air. It was about this time that Faustus gave Zelda a small blue ring box. Inside was the 6th annual charm that Faustus gave his wife every Yule to go on the bracelet that he had given her on their 1st Solstice that they spent together as a married couple. However, the meaning of this year’s charm was lost on Zelda.

“A white rose?”

Faustus nodded. “A symbol of eternal love.”

Zelda gave a sly smile. “Yours or mine?”

Faustus laughed and stroked his wife’s cheek as he received Zelda’s thank you kiss. Then Faustus stood up and grabbed a skinny gift from under the tree. He passed it to Cordelia. “Speaking of jewellery, here a little something from your mother and me.” Cordelia smiled as she took the gift and unwrapped it. It turned out be a golden chain with a crescent moon attached, not unlike her own birthmark. She looked up at her parents from her place on the floor.

“I love it! Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom.” Cordelia got up and hugged both her parents.

“May Hecate bless and keep you, my Cordelia.” Zelda smiled at her daughter.

“Amen.”

“Oh, it seems we ran out of music and could use a new Christmas CD.” Hilda sighed.

“I’ll go change it since I’m up.” Cordelia offered and journeyed to the stereo but before she got there, she passed a window and froze. She looked very upset.

It was Hilda who first noticed her distress. “Cordy, darling? What’s wrong?”

“It’s her,” Came her niece’s reply. “The ghost that keeps up me at night. She’s right outside.”

“How do you know? You said you never saw her.” Ambrose pointed out.

Cordelia shook her head. “I never did, but I always felt her just as I feel her now and I’m looking straight at her.”

Faustus got up to collect his daughter. “Come sit down, sweetheart. We’ll figure all this out later.” Yet just as he put an arm around Cordelia, he looked out the window and saw the ghost too. “Constance?”

“Faustus, may I see you out in the hall for a minute?” Zelda asked as she rose.

“I think we should let Constance in.”

Faustus couldn’t believe his ears. “What? Zelda dearest, what are you saying?”

“Well, I think it’s perfectly oblivious why she’s here.”

Faustus nodded. “Yes, she’s here to ruin our family solstice.”

“No,” his wife disagreed, “I think she’s here to see her children, the twins, as is her right.”

“I think you’re giving her too much credit. Don’t you remember how she behaved the last time we made contact with her? You had to bar her from the house!”

“That was over 6 years ago. Maybe she changed.”

“Changed?!” Faustus sneered. “Then why has she been bothered Cordy for over a month?”

“Why don’t you go out there and ask her yourself?”

“Fine, I will,” Faustus agreed. “But you’re coming with me.”

A moment later, Zelda and Faustus stepped out onto the frozen porch. Constance was right before them.

“If we allow you into this house, will you abide by its rules and customs?” Faustus asked.

Constance smiled as she nodded. “I will.”

“Come in. You are welcome.” With those simple words, Zelda broke her own spell.

The whole family was shocked when Faustus and Zelda returned with the ghost. Hilda was the 1st to recover.

“Um, Ambrose, Prudence, Sabrina, Cordy, could you come to help me and your uncle C in the kitchen?”

“I think I’ll join you.” Zelda turned to join the family, but Constance called her back. “Please stay, Zelda, there’s something I would like to say to you too.”

“Ok.” Zelda was unsure as she slid into her chair next to Faustus. The twins were sitting on the sofa. Zelda noticed that the twins were holding hands, something they only did when they were really anxious.

“Is it true?” Jake asked. “Are you really our mother?”

“She’s only our birth mother,” his sister answered him, “Zelda is our real mother.”

“LJ, please!” Zelda didn’t mean it, but her mothering tone came through.

Constance didn’t seem to mind as she stared at the twins and smiled. “You are both so beautiful.” She touched LJ’s face. “My daughter on her way to becoming a witch doctor!”

Jake lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not a genius like LJ.”

“Are you happy, my son?”

“I am.”

Constance smiled. “That’s all that matters.”

“And we’re safe,” LJ added.

“That’s right,” Jake agreed. “Blackwood is no more.”

Constance smiled. “I know; I’ve been watching you. I’ve been watching all of you.” Constance turned. “Which brings me back to you, Zelda Spellman. I have something important to say to you. Thank you. Ever since you dispatched with Blackwood, you have done everything to make sure that my children felt safe and loved. I can never thank you enough for that.”

LJ got up and walked to Zelda’s side. “Why would even doubt her? She cared for us when we were babies. I mean, this is the same woman who whisked me away at birth and loved me when she didn’t have to.”

You must understand,” Constance stressed. “The last time I saw Zelda; she was heavily pregnant. I thought that she would prefer her own child and become a petty and jealous stepmother to the 2 of you. Just” Constance sighed and cast down her eyes in shame. “Just as I did with Prudence. Happily, that didn’t happen. She loves you as if you were her own.”

“I love them because they are my own,” Zelda said gently, “Just as Cordelia and Prudence are. Perhaps you would have learned this if you’ve survived but a mother’s heart can never be too full.”

“Wait,” Jake was confused. “If all you wanted was to have a peaceful heart-to-heart, then why have you been bothering Cordy all this time?”

Constance looked startled. “Have I? I didn’t mean to. Please apologize to her for me.”

LJ leaned in to whisper in Zelda’s ear. “I guess the divine child’s powers can pick up a rogue ghost better than we can.”

Zelda’s focus was elsewhere at the moment. “Constance, you’re glowing. You’ve never looked better.”

The ghost blushed like a schoolgirl. “Am I? Well, I guess being at peace agrees with me then. You see, I recently re-met a friend from childhood on the other side, and he has been helping me to put aside my anger and bitterness. I’m starting to see things differently now. Zelda, I understand that you didn’t set out to break up my marriage, Faustus’s heart was yours long before I came around. It’s perfectly fine that my children have 2 mothers, as long as they are loved and protected.”

Sensing that her time was up, Constance kissed both her children and turned to leave when

“Wait.” It was the 1st time Faustus had spoken since they had all sat down. Now, he stood and when to the ghost. “Constance, I have never seen you speak so tenderly or behave so kindly. I just to say I’m sorry. We never were a love match but I could have been kinder to you during our marriage. Not pressuring you for a son, been more of a comfort during your miscarriages. Enjoy the happiness you have now; you certainly deserve it. Bright Solstice.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. The lights flicked and then the ghost was gone.

It was when Constance was gone that Jake fell on his knees before Zelda. “We love you, bonus mom.”

LJ hugged her. “We sure do.”

Faustus watched this touching scene for a moment and then turned his attention to the hallway. “Okay, guys, you can come out now. Don’t think I don’t see you spying over there!”

The guilty gang filed back into the living room and the Solstice celebrations continued.1 hour later, the room was quiet as Ambrose read Charles Dickins’ A Christmas Carol aloud. Fearing that she would too big to do it next year, Cordelia grabbed her favorite blanket and settled herself on Zelda’s lap. She was going to ask if she was too heavy when her mother held her closer.

“Hecate, bless us, everyone,” Cordelia whispered.

15 notes · View notes

mizufae · 3 years

Note

4, 9, 21, 30, 48, 68

SO MANY ASKS, MY BOREDOM RECEDES

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

ugh. I was the super smart but smelly kid, basically. I got placed in a GT core program in 4th grade (gifted and talented) and even there I was immediately shuffled to the second to last rung on the social ladder, I was the most normal one of the kids who ate erasers and were obviously autistic. Like also, I guess I was described as “an old soul” and “rude” because I used bad words. Before the GT program I was a bookworm and before that I was “extremely shy” but in 2nd grade I woke up one morning and was suddenly obnoxious. I suspect that my teachers didn’t know what the hell to do with me most of the time, but I always got really good grades despite refusing to do a lot of homework so it was kind of hard to crack my nut, I guess. One time in fifth grade I was called “tactless”.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Honeysuckle on a warm clear night.

The town I moved to when I was seven years old has a big festival every year with craft booths and outdoor concerts and lots of food and carnival stuff and they have fireworks! It was within walking distance of our house, so every summer we’d walk there in the afternoon and spend a couple evenings there. This was how I saw Carbonleaf for free about a month before they made it really big! Anyway, here is the memory:

Walking home at night, sticky leather sandals on my feet. My friend met up with me while at the festival and she peels off to get to her neighborhood a few blocks along. My mom and dad are meandering about half a block ahead of me. I have a cracked glowstick around my neck, it’s a soft green and pink. The firework smoke has mostly cleared and the nearly full moon washes the dark streets with enough light to navigate without the flashlight my mom had tucked in her purse. The streets on this block don’t have sidewalks so we have to be careful, but everyone is walking home around this time so it’s not too dangerous. The breeze passes through and any lingering smoke is blown away, replaced with a floral waft. I don’t understand what it is until I bump into my parents who have stopped. My dad is picking at a bush that’s grown over a chainlink fence. “What are you doing?”

“Eating honeysuckle,” my dad responds. I make an incredulous noise. “You can eat it, see? You pick a flower, like this, without any leaves on the bottom, and then pinch off the bottom. The stamen will come through and pull the nectar down... Then you suck it like the bottom of an ice cream cone. It’s sweet. Here, try it.”

After I try one and mangle it, my dad prepares one for me. I’m surprised. I’d only eaten pansies before, and those tasted like mint and parsley had a baby, not sweet at all. “Can you eat the petals?”

“Yeah, but they don’t taste like anything. Here, you want more?”

“I can do it this time.”

“Okay, be careful though, don’t pick any too low down, dogs can pee on it.”

“Ew, Dad!”

At this point my mother chides us on back home, but I pulled off a big tendril to pick at the rest of the way.

21. obsession from childhood?

When I was little I was terrified of most things, but a big thing that really freaked me out was clowns and also people in mascot costumes. As an adult I have made some uh... progress on this (am I a furry? am I a clownfucker? I not NOT those things...) but anyway in an attempt to get me to maintain my chill if I accidentally found a clown or mascot at one of a million children friendly places where such characters appear without warning (the zoo, a baseball game, the mommy and daughter beauty pageant my mom idiotically signed us up for when I was like, three... every halloween ever... the library...) they rented this movie that was like, a behind the scenes clown circus documentary.

I have spent a solid 20 minutes trying to look it up just now and it is ungoogleable because of all the trendy murderous clown bullshit these days, thanks a lot stephen king, but anyway. My older brother had to watch it with me the first time but it was like... the clown showed how he went from just a guy through every step of putting on the makeup and costume, and some juggling stuff and some other tricks, and what makes a funny physical joke, and some other circus things... And then he took off the clown outfit and became a regular guy again. I WAS OBSESSED. Apparently, I requested we rent this movie from blockbuster EVERY TIME for MONTHS to the point where blockbuster offered to sell us the VHS. I still remained scared of clowns for years after this but it helped me out a lot and also it’s connected to my whole thing about practical effects. I also watched the jim hensons secrets of the muppets thing about twenty bajillion times, it all exists in the same space in my brain.

30. places that you find sacred?

Gazebos and thresholds, mostly. Also I once had a religious experience staring at a Van Gogh in the National Gallery of London. It was Wheatfield with Crows. I don’t think I saw god, because I dont particularly believe in god much, but I do feel like... some part of me cracked open and was able to connect with some part of a person who had painted it a hundred years ago. I only learned that it was possibly the last thing he ever painted like, a year later. I was in London visiting a friend who had moved there a year before, we were in our senior year of high school, I was 17 and applying to art schools at the time, so maybe it was just a thing about, like, the right time and mental space for it, but also... me and Vincent are like... yeah. This is what I hope I see when I die, etc.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I hope that I would be an apricot but that’s just cuz I really like them. Maybe I am a coconut, hairy on the outside and a hard nut to crack.

When I started to grow boobs, my mom told me a funny story about how in college she walked in on her roommate standing in front of the mirror in just her underwear, cupping her breasts. And when my mom was like “uh... what are you... doing?” her roommate was like “sigh... do you think I have oranges? Or are they more like tangerines... I wish I had grapefruits like you!” and from then on the citrus system of breast classification was set. Hippies, amirite?

Anyway my boobs kept growing and growing and growing. I am currently a K cup??? But anyway one day as a teenager I was in the grocery store and they had these fruits that were EVEN BIGGER than a grapefruit. They were pale green and smelled really nice! And when we sliced it open it had SO MUCH PITH, but the fruit inside was a pretty pink... It’s a pomelo! The precursor to grapefruits. My breasts are now bigger than even pomelos, but whenever I see them in the market I’m like “my boob fruit!”

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

I try my best to taste foods I’ve disliked over and over again throughout the years to get myself to become okay with them because I find the enjoyment of food to be vitally important to my willingness to continue existing. But one thing I will NEVER force myself to eat again is natto. I tried it about four different times, once the cheap conbini kind, once at an extremely swanky japanese hotel breakfast, one in a really nice sustainable sushi restaurant with my favorite fish mackerel, once from a friend’s fridge, and UGH, every time, I just wanna spit it back out immediately. Sorry, fam.

In terms of things that come in different flavors I think the grossest soda is the grapefuit favorito which is like drinking bubbly soap.

#tijuanabiblestudies

5 notes · View notes