#school because i was mourning. my grandpa was going to call me + yell at me for skipping until the beans spilled. but by november that stuf | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunnysidevans · 4 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

Summary: Ransom has time to reflect on his relationship with you and all the things he put you and your relationship through.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW themes, slight knives out spoilers, fluff, swearing, angst.

Authors Note: This idea has sat in my brain for a few days and I thought it was a good idea so I hope i did it justice and you enjoy it. I also did leave some parts out from the movie just for the sake of storyline, some things are also not 100% accurate. enjoy :)

READERS POINT OF VIEW

TWO YEARS PRIOR

The leaves had just started to fall in Massachusetts, it was finally fall and you could break out the fall sweater and finally ransom could pull the cable knits out from the back of the closet. Ransom hid them really well in the closet before fall because knowing you, you’d find them and hoard your favorite cable knit because it always smelled like pine and all things Fall. After much convincing Ransom agreed to go to a family party at the thrombey house. “Babe” he sighed, sitting back on the bed, against the headboard in his Calvin Klien underwear, watching as you rummaged through your sweaters deciding on what to wear to the family gathering. “What?” you turned, hand on your hip watching the smirk on his face as you stood in just a pair of underwear in front of him. He held his hands out to you in a grabby hand motion as you smiled walking to him climbing in bed and straddling his waist, crossing your arms across your chest “what drysdale?” you giggled smiling as he put his hand on your hips “I want to admire this view duh..” he grinned moving your hands to cup your breasts, causing a shiver to run down your back “baby.. Your hands are cold” you tried to push his hands away from your chest as he continued to run his fingers over pebbled nipples. “Ransom..” you sighed as he quickly rolled you onto your back and hovered over you, smirking down at you “I know you can't resist me missy” he smirked kissing down your neck as you tangled your fingers in his short brunette hair that had gotten slightly messy as the seasons changed. “C’mon baby we agreed to go to the party we should probably go” you gasped as he took your nipple in his mouth smirking at the gasp circling his tongue around the nipple biting it slightly, pulling away he smirked “what was that again baby?” he chuckled watching your face as he kissed you passionately.

Arriving at the party in true ransom fashion you were almost half an hour late. “Ransom!.. Oh- (Y/N)” Ransoms mother Linda greeted you as you arrived “hello mother” he sighed, giving her a wave as he tightened his grip on your hand. You waved to Linda and gave her a smile as you entered the family room at the Thrombey estate which held, majority of the thrombey family, including ransom’s grandfather Harlen. “Fran” Ransom snarled, snapping for the housekeeper, a heavy sigh followed “Yes?” she snarled as ransom and you sat down “can you please get me a drink” He sat back, arm around your shoulder as you shook your head quickly “don’t worry Fran, I’ll get it!” you smiled at her, walking to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen Meg, Ransom’s cousin had walked in and greeted you, She was always one of the kindest Thrombeys. “I really do not understand why you date him” she sighed leaning against the counter watching as you poured two glasses of bourbon for you and Ransom. You turned to face her smiling softly “He is just a man, hard headed and ignorant, It took a lot of convincing to even get him here tonight let alone even to sit down and have a drink” you smiled at her and nodded “I’m trying to get him a little more family oriented” you smiled at her again as you walked toward the family room again “You look great meg, I hope school is going well” you nodded to her. As you entered the living room a screaming match had begun between Ransom and his uncle Walt. “You are just a selfish prick who doesn’t even know how to do anything!” Walt screamed at ransom in which ransom laughed in response “I don't know how to do anything?! How does it feel to ride daddy’s coattails! You run a publishing company that publishes like what? One book a fucking year?! Really smooth Walt real smooth!” as walt’s wife spoke up “Don’t use that language in front of our son ransom!” she pitched her hand on Walt's arm for support. “Enough!” Harlen spoke from his chair, standing in the front of the room, “You both are old enough to act better than this” he sighed shaking his head as he pointed to ransom “My office, now.” he sighed walking to the office, Ransom following like a lost puppy. The yelling continued in Harlens office, as you sat on the loft stairs waiting for ransom, it didn’t seem promising as the yelling continued. Twenty minutes later ransom stormed out of the office, coat in hand storming to his beamer, leaving you and the thrombey house in his rearview.

A YEAR & A HALF LATER.

You sat in ransom’s home, watching the news as you did every sunday morning, it was rainy, May showers had finally rolled in. After a long eventful night in the sheets with ransom, you woke early and had a cup of coffee under a blanket when the news had a report. The news anchor sat behind the news station, it felt he was right in front of you. “Renown Author Harlen Thrombey has recently passed, News broke this morning that Mr. Thrombey had passed early into the evening” You couldn’t believe it, “RANSOM!” you stood setting your cup down on the table as you ran up to the bedroom quickly barreling in the bedroom to ransom. “Hey..” you whispered, shaking him gently as he groaned “ugh what” he groaned rolling over to face you “baby.. Your grandpa he’s gone” you whispered rubbing his arm and ransom rolled over with a mumbled “so”.

After a few days Ransom finally agreed to head to Harlens estate to see his family, in the mourning process of his grandfather. “I know you don’t want to go babe” you sighed watching him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze “I don’t, I think this is stupid, we both know he’s dead” he snarled ripping his hand from yours. Arriving at the estate was much more of a dread than you had thought. “Hugh Drysdale?” A man in a black suit stood at the top of the steps as ransom stepped towards the house “Call me ransom it’s my middle name, only the help calls me hugh” as he pushed through the detectives you stood there, watching him walk in shaking your head slightly smiling at the detectives. “And you are?” the one asked, “I’m (Y/N), Ransom is my boyfriend” you smiled softly, shaking their hands and nodding as they took your name and progressed into the house.

In true Thrombey fashion Ransom sat down for a total of five minutes before a screaming match had begun between the thrombey family. “You know what? Eat Shit” Ransom snarled, sliding the cookie into his mouth “Oh that's real rich Hugh” Meg snarked back as Ransom laughed “Up your ass” he sassed back to her as the both of them continued to fight you watched from the back, beside Marta. “Well how nice of you to show up on time for the will reading Hugh” walt snarked to ransom as he sat back “Son” Richard, Ransom’s father pitched in “Father”. “Why don’t you tell em Hugh, huh?! Because good ol grandpa cut you out of the will! Jacob heard everything from the bathroom” Walt pointed to Jacob, his son sitting in the chair as he looked up from his phone and whatever phony news he was reading. “I also heard ransom say.. “I’m warning you”``Jacob nodded quickly in response looking between them all. “Ransom, is that true?” Linda spoke up as ransom sighed “yep” popping the p, watching everyone in the room as they laughed “well.. Maybe this will teach you a valuable lesson and maybe have you grow up a bit” Linda sighed.

After a week of fighting and constant nagging. The family was called back to the Thrombey estate. “I just want to thank you all for being so good to me” Marta began to address the family as you stood beside ransom, rubbing his arm in support. Marta’s speech was over before it ended before the detective pulled her into the room, leaving everyone confused, until a detective came back for you and ransom. “Marta I’m so sorry” Ransom replied as the detective sat him in a seat and stood beside you. “You switched the bottles” the detective began watching the straight look on Ransom’s face and the utter surprise on yours. “Marta” he sat, rolling up his sleeve, “go ahead and tell me what you did for Mr. Thrombey” he nodded, as Marta did her routine she did every night for Harlen, he nodded “you knew what the right thing was, because you did it so many times” he nodded to her as he stood turning to ransom. “Marta knew what she was giving Harlen because she had done it so many times before, but when you didn’t show up for the funeral, you left one thing out, Fran saw you, Fran saw you switch the viles while no one was home. This was because he cut you out of the will” he nodded as Ransom huffed his chest and stood as Marta took a phone call “Thank you doctor we will be there soon” she hung up the phone looking between them. “She’s gonna make a full recovery” she nodded, smiling at them as the detective turned to ransom “I’m going to say this just to you, no cameras no courtroom, just you because you know it's true, we allowed you into our home, we let you watch our granddad, we let you into our family, and now you think you can steal from us? You think I'm not going to fight to protect what's mine?” Ransom approached Marta, hands on his hips, his nose flared as the detective started to laugh. “That is a bunch of crap and you know it” ransom rolled his eyes turning to him angrily “yeah I killed Fran, But I guess I didn’t so you get me on what? Attempted murder-” you spoke up “ransom..” you whispered watching him turn to you quickly, shaking your head biting your lip watching him turn back to the detective and Marta “Arson for the building which with a good lawyer, Which I have I’ll be out in no time” he laughed as Marta began to gag, not holding her lies very well. A confused ransom turned as Marta had puked up her beans on him, wiping her mouth she whispered “Frans dead”

You stood on the end of the thrombey staircase, watching as your boyfriend of three and a half years walked out of the house in handcuffs, You watched him confess to killing his grandfather and the housekeeper. As ransom turned back to you, you shook your head, wiping your face with your sleeve turning away from him. Getting into your vehicle before the cop cars drove off and drove off from Hugh Ransom Drysdale and the Thrombey Estate.

PRESENT DAY.

You walked into your apartment after grabbing the mail as you looked through, in which was mostly bills but one caught your eye, Massachusetts Correctional. You bit your lip as you debated even looking at it, You didn’t know what to do, deciding against your better judgment you opened the letter.

(Y/N),

I wanted to write this to you, I know this is probably much overdue.. I don’t know where to start. As I sit behind these bars I realize how terrible I was to you.. You went through this whole process and I am so sorry. I know I was a terrible person then and still am, I just want to apologize for the man I was, for closure for you, I hope you are well and I just want to apologize again.. You deserved a much MUCH better man than me. Much better than me,

Ransom

As you sat in your kitchen reading over ransom’s handwriting you thought back to that time in your life, when you were in love with a cable knit wearing asshole and not a criminal, You did deserve much better than him, but sometimes thinking back about that, you missed the cable knit sweater wearing asshole. Even if you did deserve better than him.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombrey #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey fanfic #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic

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shinsorokiri · 4 years

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UA Idol | Chapter Three

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Word Count: 2,204

Warnings: Language, big anxiety

A/N: Chapter Three is up because my dumbass forgot to upload last week! So here’s some more. The “original song” is “Pantaloon” by Twenty One Pilots, so if you would like to listen to it, go ahead! I hope you enjoy and I promise I’ll stop forgetting to upload lmao.

UA Idol Masterlist

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You two are pulled aside and interviewed, in which Mina gives a short little excited burst of personality, and you’re there to make sure she doesn’t start shrieking again. It’s pretty endearing, it’s very obvious you two are best friends. After all of that is over with, the two of you are able to wander around, so Mina obviously drags you over to where Denki and purple boy were. They’re still there, and Mina makes it a point to shake the ticket in front of her friend’s face.

“No fucking way! You did it!” he yells, engulfing her in a hug. You don’t realize, but you and lilac man both cringe at their volume, but nevertheless you smile for your best friend. After all, this is a dream come true for her. You’re still in shock from your audition, so all you can think about is the pride and happiness you have for Mina in this moment. “Oh! My best friend and roomie made it to!” Mina squeals, grabbing your wrist and shaking your hand that’s holding the ticket for you. “Denki Kaminari, (Y/f/n), (Y/f/n), Denki Kaminari,” she says, motioning from him to you then you to him. “Hi there, cutie,” he says with a slight smirk and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Call me that again and it’ll be the last word you ever speak,” you say, and to your surprise, he laughs. “Damn, Mina, it’s like I’m looking at another Shinsou,” he says, and that’s when the lavender dude sighs. Ah. So, he’s-

“Mina Ashido, Hitoshi Shinsou. Hitoshi Shinsou, Mina Ashido. (Y/f/n), Hitoshi Shinsou, Hitoshi-”

“I got it,” you and Shinsou say simultaneously, with the same inflection in your voice and deadpan facial expression. That’s when you look at each other. And by that, I mean really look at each other, not just look at the other person when their eyes are focused on something else. And that’s when everything just kinda… stops for a few seconds. The only thing you can even focus on is him, and you can’t tear your eyes away from his, no matter how much you want to. Do you even want to? You don’t even know the man, and yet butterflies are erupting in your stomach and all feelings of unease leave your body. Of course, Mina and Denki don’t notice the cease in time or the feelings exploding in your body. You’re only forced back into reality when your best friend’s voice interrupts you. “Holy shit, they’re like clones of each other,” Mina mumbles, staring back and forth between you two. “The only difference is-”

“Contestants 14799 and 14800? Follow me, you’re on deck,” the same producer who grabbed you two away from them earlier comes and snatches them away from you. “Don’t go anywhere, Mina. If you’re cool with it, I kind of want to go to dinner to catch up after this, it’s been too long,” Denki says, and Shinsou raises his eyebrow at him. “What about me and (Y/n)? Are we supposed to tag along on your date?”

“Oh, honey, I’m gay as fuck. But Denki, I’m so down to catch up! I can’t believe we went a whole month without linking up. And I’m sure (Y/n) would be happy to come with. Especially if we go to her favorite restaurant which I just so happen to have a coupon for because I was gonna take her there to celebrate or mourn after the audition.”

“Awesome! You two stay right here, we’ll be back out!” Denki screams over his shoulder as Shinsou drags him away. “Seriously, Denki?”

“What? I want to talk to Mina again! She and I were literally the best pranksters of our little group in high school and it’s been like a month since we last caught up with each other,” Denki whines and Hitoshi sighs. “But why did you need to drag me into it?” he groans, and Denki smirks at him. “Oh please. Don’t pretend like I didn’t notice you eyeing up Mina’s friend.” “Choose your next words wisely.”

“Shin. Come on. You at least think she’s pretty since your eyes literally didn’t leave her the entire time she was by us. Give her a chance at least, maybe she’s the one,” Denki says, his joking demeanor gone away. Shinsou hesitates before speaking again, saying the thing he’s said to his overexcited blonde friend multiple times before. But this time, he doesn’t believe it as much. “I don’t have time for love, Denki. It’s time consuming and I need to spend my time on more important matters.”

“But she was really cute, right?”

“If you call her cute again, I will beat you up.”

“Why?”

“Because she was cute. And I don’t need you to make me think about it every five seconds because my brain is already doing that on its own,” Hitoshi mumbles, looking away from his friend who has a smug grin on his face. You were cute, so what? You were so cute that the world around him stopped functioning for a bit when you two made eye contact and all he could focus on was your eyes and how you made him feel like he was okay despite the fact that his anxiety was through the roof right now because of the situation he is in and all the people surrounding him at all sides because that’s normal. That’s normal, right? Please, assure him that it’s normal. “Hm. Have you thought about buying her dinner? That’ll send off the right message.”

“Shut. Up.”

“What’s up guys!” Shinsou and Denki’s conversation was cut short by Present Mic literally screaming at them. “Just getting pumped to do this!” Denki responds immediately, hopping up and down in place. “Alright! That’s what I like to hear! Now, who are you guys?”

“I’m Denki Kaminari and this beautiful bastard next to me is Hitoshi Shinsou,” Denki responds, finger-gunning over to Shinsou. Shinsou sighs but gives a genuine smile to Present Mic as he waves. “COOL! So, are you guys a duo?”

“No, we’re just here to support the other! My family doesn’t live around here and Shin’s… couldn’t make it!” Kaminari covers up for Shinsou, knowing that he just told the entire story of why his family couldn’t support him right now to the producers maybe thirty minutes ago. Shinsou silently thanks him for that, knowing he’d probably have to tell at least some of it again to the actual judges. “I love seeing y’all supporting each other like this! Makes me think of when I supported Aizawa the first time he ever actually performed instead of just sat on the sidelines watching someone else sing his song! Kaminari, you’re first, you ready?” “I was born ready.”

“HELL YEAH! Go on in!”

Hitoshi watches his best friend enter the room, his own nerves starting to kick in. Regardless of how he’s feeling, he listens as Denki belts out Kiwi. For someone who has the personality of a corroded triple AAA battery, his voice is really pleasing to the ear. Especially when he lays on the distortion but still somehow manages to hit high notes in his belting range. Honestly if anyone was born to be a rockstar, it was Denki Kaminari. Unsurprisingly, he comes out with a ticket, waving it around like the excited Pikachu he is. “I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it-”

“Okay I get it! You did it!” Hitoshi says, waving his fists in a little celebratory motion. He is genuinely smiling though. He’s happy for Denki. And then he realizes it’s his turn. “You got this, man! If I can do it, you definitely can!” Hitoshi gives him a small smile of appreciation before walking through the doors himself. This was... a lot. It was a lot. He stopped in the middle of the performing area and looked at the judges. “Hello, handsome.”

“Midnight. Please.”

“Never, Aizawa.”

“I’m sorry for her lack of professionalism. Hello, what’s your name, where are you from, and why are you here?” Aizawa completely ignores Midnight and Hitoshi clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Hitoshi Shinsou, I’m 22 years old, and I’m from Tokyo. I’m here because my roommate convinced me to audition with him, but I also just really love music and it would be pretty nice to have my mom see me performing.”

“Aw, a family man. How sweet,” Midnight says and Hitoshi shrugs. “It would just be nice for her to see it before she... you know.”

“Is she sick?” Hawks asks, a small frown on his face. Hitoshi nods. “Yeah, she is,” he says, and there’s a sympathetic look on all the judge’s faces. Goddamn empaths. “Well, hopefully she gets to see this! I’m sure you’ll do great,” Toshinori says, giving him a reassuring smile and thumbs up. “What will you be singing today?”

“Um, I was actually planning on singing an original? If that’s okay?”

“That’s more than okay! Go for it,” Midnight says, and Hitoshi makes his way over to the piano. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you tell us what it’s called?” Aizawa asks. “It’s called The Pantaloon,” Shinsou responds, placing his hands on the keys. He starts playing away, hoping that what he sings for them is good enough. He had to shorten the song a bit, but it’s still pretty wordy, so he’s worried they won’t like it that much. He also knows that his style and voice in general is a little different, so he hopes they don’t hate it.

“Your grandpa died when you were nine. They said he had lost his mind. You have learned way too soon You should never trust the pantaloon.

Now it's your turn to be alone. Find a wife and build yourself a home. You have learned way too soon That your dad is now the pantaloon.

You are tired, you are hurt. A moth ate through your favorite shirt. And all your friends fertilize The ground you walk, Lose your mind.

You like to sleep alone, It's colder than you know, 'Cause your skin is so Used to colder bones. It's warmer in the morning, Than what it is at night. Your bones are held together by your nightmare and your frights.

You are tired, you are hurt. A moth ate through your favorite shirt. And all your friends, they fertilize The ground you walk. So lose your mind.

You are tired, you are hurt. A moth ate through your favorite shirt. And all your friends, they fertilize The ground you walk. Lose your mind.”

It’s funny how when you do something well, you forget how it went. Hitoshi finishes out the song, playing the last chord, hoping it went well but not really knowing since he kinda... blacked out...? Not really, but he doesn’t remember how it all went, so he hopes it went well. “Wow,” Midnight’s voice pulls him out of his head, and he looks over at the judges. “Literally what the hell, he’s the second person who auditioned who is better than me!” Hawks basically yells, throwing his hands up, the pen he had resting in them flying up and then coming back down to hit him on the head. Hitoshi can’t even pay attention to the fact that Hawks just assaulted himself because I’m sorry, did he say better than him?? He has 10 Grammy’s what the fuck does he mean better than him??

“What are the odds two kids like them would audition not just in the same season but on the same day not even forty minutes after each other?” Toshinori says, awe evident on his face. “It’s certainly rare, I can tell you that. Especially when it comes to actual songwriting ability, which it’s evident they have,” Aizawa says, and Shinsou’s breathing literally stops. Aizawa Shouta is his literal idol. And he just complimented his songwriting skills? What? “Well, Shinsou. I think I can say with confidence this isn’t the last time your mom is going to see you perform,” Midnight says, and Shinsou smiles. This is crazy. “You’ve got a future in the business kid, even if you don’t win, I see you in the top two with the other singer-songwriter we saw today. Easily,” Aizawa says, and Shinsou literally cannot believe what he is hearing. “Really?” he asks, disbelief in his voice. “Yes! Of course, after a performance like that in a room like this with a song like that, of course you’ll make it far in the competition! I’d bet you even make it to the top two with it!” Toshinori basically yells, and Shinsou scratches the back of his neck, letting out a flattered chuckle. “Thanks… thank you,” he says, and Aizawa picks up one of the tickets. “I’m just going to give this to you. I think we all agree that you’re a yes.”

Hitoshi goes and takes the ticket, thanking them again and again before walking back out the doors. He shows Kaminari the ticket, and Kaminari literally screams in his face. Full on shouts. “I FUCKING KNEW YOU COULD DO IT BRO!”

“Could you please be quiet? For once in your life? Just shh?”

#shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero x reader #shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #shinso #hitoshi shinso #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #anime

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sara78 · 4 years

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Thank you, Supernatural

I don't think a simple thank you can cover everything these boys have done for me, for many of us out there.

For lots of people, supernatural is just a show.

But for me and for lots of other people it means many more.

Let's be honest, this year sucked.

2020 for me started empty. I would wake up every morning with emptiness in me, because one person I really looked up to and loved with all my heart, my grandpa, suddenly died in front of my eyes and I couldn't do anything but watch. Even though everybody thought I bounced back from that really fast and adapted to it, it was just my very well built mask. I didn't want them to know. That maybe wasn't the right thing to do, since I for sure wasn't the only one mourning, but I just got used to throwing out masks and smiles whenever it was a bad day because they usually wouldn't understand why am I upset and would tell me to stop being a crybaby.

The fact that I lost my grandpa who was my father figure, who raised me up and was the only one who ever supported me and had my back, tore me apart. I was aware I will never go and spend summer breaks in village with him, I will never be able to watch "Only fools and horses" with him on TV.

It just couldn't settle.

And then, the Corona virus happened.

Let me be honest, school and certain people in it helped me with mourning. A lot. Being able to focus on schoolwork, studying, projects, it took my mind of for a brief time. But then, we were all of a sudden closed in our houses because of this whole situation and I didn't thought it was going to be this painful for me.

I was always thinking "Meh, I rarely went out anyways, I got used to being home" but the fact that I was back in the apartment where my grandpa died, and the fact that I woke up every morning and went to the living room to see an empty bed and a turned off TV, instead of him sitting there, reading the newspaper while waiting for a certain TV show on the TV... It didn't feel like home.

I closed in my room. Most of the days I would spend by trying to figure out everything about school, who's using what platform etc. Soon enough, my mother, a nurse in city hospital, told me that she will be transfered to work on a Covid part of it.

I didn't really think it would change anything, but hell, was I wrong.

Every day, she would come pissed from work. She would scream at me, yell at me, blame me for whatever happened in her shift, blamed me for everything that wasn't in my power.

Listening to constant hate from her never had such an impact on me. She would usually do that but grandpa would always be there and talk to me. My mom would usually go to my grandma to see her and talk to her about her troubles at work, but she couldn't risk going to her place, so she decided to obviously, yell and scream at me, thinking I don't bother because I never showed it.

She would just randomly slam the door of my room open and start telling me I'm a terrible daughter, that I don't want to do anything, that I'm useless, that people will never love me, that I'm stupid etc. Those words now started to settle down in me and started piling up. Day by day, the pile became bigger and bigger and I was in a darker place than ever before.

I didn't talk to anyone about it. I didn't want to bother and others had problems too, much bigger then this one.

I was really desperate. I needed a way to get out.

One of those days, I called one of my good friends, and asked him to tell me something that he likes to watch, or to play. I needed a run from reality and I decided to find it in a video game or a TV show.

That's where supernatural came.

April 5th, 2020.

Just when I thought this year would never get better, it did.

I tested the waters with the pilot - he told me that I would like the show since I was a fan of The X Files and Scooby-doo. He was right. It took me one episode, and Dean's famous "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days" to get me hooked.

Every day, I would turn on the show and would run away from reality. Every time it all became too much, I would watch them. Soon enough it felt like home. Those boys going around the country, hunting, having each other's backs, it really was unique and interesting to see how well they worked together.

As the show progressed and the boys went more mature, I started feeling better. I wouldn't have dark thoughts, I wouldn't feel empty anymore. Even though I could never talk with them in person, their presence helped me deal with my grandpa's death and my mother's sick obsession of blaming me for everything.

Sam and Dean taught me to stand up for myself. That's what I did. I stood up for myself and told my mother to stop being such a fuss and blame me for whatever happened to her on work because I'm no God (Chuck now 😂) and I'm not controlling anything. She was at first pissed when I talked back to her yelling but soon she stopped as well. I don't know where did she take out all of that anger and I honestly don't care. As long as it wasn't me, I didn't care.

Sam and Dean taught me that nobody really dies. Well, those boys never seemed to stick to that title. But the ones who did, as for example their dad, mom, later on Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Ash, Crowley, Rowena, Jack, Kevin,... You shouldn't think about how you lost them, about how you will never get to see them again. You should remember and cherish the moments you got to spend with them, and to be grateful that you were able to spend time with them. I started watching at grandpa's death from another point of view. Instead of missing him, I remembered him. Whenever I felt that feeling of empty, I would take our photo album and watch our photos together. I would read my old diary entries in which I wrote about how he took me to a fair and bought me a gigantic burger. Instead of tears, I would smile and be happy for being able to spend the time of my life with him and was grateful for making me who I am.

Sam and Dean taught me that family don't end with blood. But it doesn't start there either. I started taking better care of my friends, tried to talk to them more, ask them more often how they felt. I knew how bad I wanted someone to ask me that when I was in a bad place and I knew someone would appreciate that. But as well, I opened up more to some of them. It really felt nice, knowing that they don't care that you're broken and that they are more than ready to help you deal with whatever you need to.

I binge watched the whole show in about 4 months. I watched the boys grow up, and so did I. I learned so much from them, I loved them for who they are, I cried and laughed with them, I was scared and happy with them, I would stay up late at night just thinking about Dean and Sam and whatever they were dealing at the moment or rant to my friend who never even watched the show about how much I love Castiel for being who he is.

Also, I fell in love with the actors. Jensen, Jared, Misha, later on Mark Sheppard, Alex Calvert,... I laughed for hours when watching their panels, comic-cons and other interviews they did. I learned about the always keep fighting campaign, and much much more.

I was happy to be in this fandom.

And so, I want to thank them for giving us the opportunity to watch Sam and Dean's adventures. I want to thank Jensen, Jared and Misha for sticking with the show for years, for giving us a ticket for the most wild and exciting ride that will always be a great, bright memory in our lives.

You guys left a legacy behind, a big legacy. As long as there's us out there, you will never be forgotten. The show will never be forgotten as long as there's people to remember it and talk about it, write fanfictions about it, re-watch it, laugh about it.

The show might be ending, but what it's left behind, that never ends. This family the show has built, there is no other like this one. There's no other Fandom like ours. This fandom is much more than just a fandom. This fandom is also a place where everyone is welcome, there is no judgments, no hate. This fandom is a family. A legacy. Not much shows can say that they've left a legacy behind. Right?

As much as I am sad the show's ending, I'm happy it happened. I'm happy I got to see 15 seasons of it, knowing many shows don't make it past 10. I'm happy I got to see Team Free Will kicking names and taking asses.

So, don't cry because it's over. Smile, because it happened. Part of a journey is the end, but then, nothing really ends.

Carry on... ❤️

#supernatural final season #supernatural season fifteen #supernatural fandom #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins #alex calvert #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline

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for-f0rever · 6 years

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I Miss You - Zoe Murphy x Connor Murphy

i had the inspiration to write this yesterday afternoon and well, this happened pretty quickly. i'm sorry i know it's probably a mess and sad and everything that i never thought i'd write at least in this moment? but i did and now we're here and there's just a lot of emotion.

please let me know if you like it :)

title is from I Miss You by Blink-182

Graduation day is supposed to be a day of celebration, a day of happiness.

Zoe Murphy’s graduation day is the opposite.

She knows she should be excited. Graduating with honors is a huge deal, and spending the night celebrating with her friends and family is all Zoe wanted. She wanted to be happy, she wanted to be excited about leaving high school behind, moving onto college where she knew she’d make a ton of friends and a million new memories.

But there was a hole in her heart. A hole that nothing could ever heal or replace.

She and Connor were not best friends, at least not when they were teenagers. Often times they fought, Connor would threaten to kill her and she’d call him a psychopath. She feared him, to put it lightly. She feared for her safety, that one day he would try to kill her. But most of all, she feared for his own safety.

She remembers hearing the news that Connor had died like it was yesterday. She remembers her mother hysterical on the phone with her father, saying that he had been found by the police in the park with an empty pill bottle in his pocket. He died at the hospital just over an hour later with Cynthia and Larry both by his side.

Zoe had waited in the waiting room after briefly mumbling some sort of goodbye to him. She couldn’t see him take his last breaths. She hated that the last image of her brother was him with a breathing tube shoved down his throat, and the last words he said to her was that she was an annoying bitch.

She remembers the chills that ran through her body when everything began to process. Her brother had taken his own life, the burdens of the world too much for him. She hated that that’s what it had come to, hated that they didn’t try to get him help sooner, that he felt like no one cared about him.

The weeks and months following his death were the worst of Zoe’s life. Her parents fought more than ever, finally enrolling in marriage counseling at Zoe’s insistence that what little piece of the family was left was falling apart. Her dad never wavered once in his opinion that Connor wanted attention, and Zoe spent nights fighting with her parents about how they failed Connor, that they barely put in the effort to help him.

One by one her friends began to trickle away, and Zoe became more withdrawn. She had a few friends when she graduated, but none of them understood how she felt.

She hoped none of them had to understand.

Zoe had gone to a grief counselor in the months after Connor's death, talking through things with the woman who explained that it was okay to feel anything that she felt. It ended in a lot of tears, a lot of closed fists and questions as to why she didn’t miss her brother as much as she thought she should. She was told that it had a lot to do with their relationship when he died, how things were rocky and that contributed to how she felt about him dying.

Zoe didn’t buy it.

The first holiday season without Connor was the worst that Zoe had ever remembered, and she felt like that was saying something judging by how the last few holiday seasons went when Connor was alive.

They exchanged gifts, but Connor’s stocking stays hung on the fireplace, no gifts overflowing from it and no presents under the tree with his name on them. It doesn’t feel right, Zoe thinks. None of this felt right, and she knew her parents felt the same way.

Larry ends up at the bar by mid-afternoon, and Zoe and Cynthia end up ordering Chinese. It’s the only thing that Zoe felt like was appropriate in the whole day.

Now she finds herself, a year and a half after her brother’s death, standing at her graduation ceremony. A year to the day since they were supposed to be sitting at Connor’s own high school graduation. Her skin crawls at the thought of her making it further in school than him. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.

She hates it.

She receives her diploma, looking out to where she knew her parents were sitting with her grandparents.

Connor wasn’t there.

She bites her lip until it bleeds to stop the tears. The guy she’s sitting next to asks her if she’s okay, and she just nods. She doesn’t trust herself to talk to him without crying.

She thinks he knows why she’s so upset. She’s just grateful he doesn’t say anything about it.

She meets up with her family when the ceremony ends, the hugs lasting longer than normal. Zoe’s okay with that.

“We’re so proud of you,” Cynthia says, her eyes filled with tears. Zoe knows they’re not all for her.

“Thanks,” Zoe whispers, turning to hug her father and grandparents quickly. “I know my party is in a few hours, but would you mind if I went out for a little while alone? I’ll be home well before the party, and I’ll help set up when I’m back,” She promises, and Cynthia nods immediately.

“Take your time,” She says, and Zoe has a feeling her mom knows where she’s going.

She walks back to her car, stopping for photos with some friends with promises to take a million more that night when they come over for her party. They smile at her and she attempts to smile back, but her eyes are glossy and she's fairly sure it comes out as a grimace. She walks to her car before they say anything about it.

Zoe turns her radio far too loud when she leaves the parking lot of her high school for the final time, blasting Blink-182 and singing along at the top of her lungs.

It’s the most alive she’s felt all day.

She doesn’t have to think about where she’s going, her mind subconsciously takes her there.

When she drives through the gates of the cemetery she turns the radio down to a more acceptable level, finding it slightly inappropriate to blast songs where people are mourning the loss of loved ones.

She tries not to think about how if Connor were sat in the passenger seat he would’ve turned the music right back up, rolling down all the windows and singing at the top of his lungs. It makes her laugh.

Pulling her car over to the side of the road Zoe takes a deep breath, shutting the car off. Her legs suddenly feel like lead, like if she steps out of the car she’s going to collapse.

She forces herself to do it anyway.

She’s been to the cemetery more than she thought she would have been since Connor was buried, mostly when she needed to get out of the house and away from her parents fighting. She brings flowers sometimes, despite knowing full well that Connor would’ve hated flowers.

She does it mostly for herself. It helps her feel like she’s being nice after years of not being great towards him.

She doesn’t have anything this time except for the flowers her parents had given her after graduation. Shrugging her graduation gown off she leaves it on the driver’s seat and reaches across to the passenger seat, pulling the flowers into her hands. Her mom will understand why she doesn’t come home with them.

The sun is beating down on the cemetery, birds chirping in the trees lining the streets next to the plots. Zoe’s legs carry her through the rows of headstones, stopping when she reaches the one that’s all too familiar.

CONNOR L. MURPHY A LOVING SON AND BROTHER 2000-2017

Sinking down to the prickly grass, Zoe sets the flowers at the base of her brother’s headstone, running her fingers over the cool granite.

“Hey,” She says, sitting down on the grass and taking a deep breath. “I um, I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you in a while. Exams were crazy, and I was trying to enjoy my last few weeks of high school. Which was basically impossible to enjoy with everything going on, by the way,” She says quietly, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist.

The bracelet Connor had given her for Christmas when she was 12. The one that she now never took off.

“I graduated high school today. I’d like to think that you were there in spirit, you know? That you would’ve been proud of me if you were here in person. You would’ve probably been so obnoxious at the ceremony. Yelling my name and embarrassing me,” She laughs, because in the state Connor left the Earth that would’ve been opposite of how he would’ve reacted.

She likes to pretend that that Connor didn’t exist. That the Connor that left this Earth was the one that was her best friend, that was always proud of her — even when she messed up.

She knows that’s an awful coping mechanism, but it’s all that works.

“I’m going to college in the fall. Studying to be a grief counselor. It’s going to take me forever before I’m finally certified, but I hope maybe I’ll be able to help people feel better the way that the grief counselors helped me feel better when you…when you died.”

Zoe swallows the lump in her throat, taking a moment to look away from her brother’s headstone. She notice an older woman in the row behind Connor’s leaving flowers at a headstone. She wonders if she's going to sit and talk to her family member, too.

“Everyone is back at the house getting ready for my graduation party. Grandma and Grandpa have been here all week. Mom and Dad aren’t letting them stay in your room, obviously. That hasn’t been touched since…well since everything happened. But I think Mom is about to suffocate with them staying with us. You’d probably have made some stupid joke about it by now, and I would’ve laughed but Mom would’ve given us that look and Dad would’ve said how we needed to behave in front of family.”

“All our aunts and uncles and cousins are coming, but all I can think about is how much I wish you were going to be there with us. How I wish I could find you in the sea of relatives we barely know, and you and I could sneak upstairs to your room and play games until Dad would find us and we’d get in trouble. Because all I really want to do today is hide away from everyone.”

Zoe wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she takes a shaky breath. She looks up towards the sky, squinting her eyes when the sun became too bright.

“I miss you, Connor. I miss you more than I ever thought I would. More than I ever wanted to miss you, if we’re being honest,” She laughs at that, blinking away the tears. “I just wish you were here, and that I could’ve done more to help you, to save you.”

She sighs, biting her lip as words fly through her mind at a million miles a minute. She doesn’t know what she wants to say, but often times she just comes and spends a few minutes with him. She needs more now, more time with him, more time to cope. There's so many things on her mind that she wants to say to him, but she struggles with where to begin.

Finding those words doesn’t come easy.

“I drove here with Blink-182 blaring. I turned it down when I pulled in the gates, but I thought about how you would’ve probably turned it louder and left all the windows down while you sang obnoxiously.”

“Sometimes when I’m driving in my car I think about how you used to sit slumped in the passenger seat, whining about how lame it was your younger sister had to drive you everywhere. That Mom and Dad shouldn’t have taken your car keys even though you know they had every reason to. I know you hated those car rides with me and you would’ve rather driven yourself. I didn't really like them back then either, but now they’re my favorite memories. They’re my favorite because we rarely fought in the car. You were just there and things felt okay even though they were the furthest thing from okay.”

Her bottom lip wobbles, and she laughs sadly. “Fuck, this is supposed to be a happy day, but all I can think about is how you never made it to your graduation. We never got to see the person you were going to be. We never even got to see the person you were behind all that hurting.”

Another deep breath. A rough, wet cough. “I’m so sorry, Connor. I’m so sorry you hurt so much that you felt like the only way to escape was to take your own life. I’m sorry we failed you. I'm sorry that you and I stopped getting along and I didn't do enough to help you like I know I could've, and that you felt like you couldn't come and tell me how you were feeling. I’m sorry that you’re not here today and you’re not here to make me laugh, or to sneak me away from everyone when things are going to be too overwhelming.”

She punches the ground once, covering her mouth as she sobs. The older woman looks back, giving her a sympathetic smile.

Zoe just lets her head fall.

“I love you, Connor. I know we didn’t have the best relationship. I know that you left this world hating me and I deserved it. I know that you weren’t my favorite either. But I fucking love you, and I never stopped loving you, even when you made it impossible for me to. Even when you threatened to kill me, or you yelled at me when I didn’t deserve it. You're my brother and I always loved you.”

She leans back on her knees, reaching forward and running her fingers along the cool granite, tracing the etching of his name with her fingers. Her nail polish is chipped, just like Connor’s always was.

“I’m going to come more often, if that’s okay with you. I know that it’s not the same as you being here in person, but maybe me visiting will heal some things,” She sighs, memorizing the way his name feels under her touch. “I’m so sorry, Connor. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t the sister you needed.”

She lets her hands fall to her lap, biting her lip. “I should probably go home. Mom and Dad probably need my help before everyone comes over,” She mumbles, as if Connor is going to answer. “I um, I miss you Connor. I’m never going to just stop missing you, I don’t think. I don’t think this is going to get any easier. Please, can you look out for me? Steer me in the right direction, help me through this crazy life. I can’t…I can’t do this alone.”

Slowly, on shaky legs and tears still streaming down her face Zoe stands up, taking a deep breath and running her fingers along the rough edges of the top of her brother’s headstone. “I’ll be back soon, Connor. I love you.”

Her legs carry her back to her car, where she shuts the door and lets her head fall against the steering wheel. She hits it a few times, letting out a strangled sob as the tears fall again. She gives herself a few minutes before wiping her eyes, slowly making her way home when she feels like it's safe for her to drive.

Later that night, when the Murphy’s house and backyard are filled with friends and family celebrating her graduation Zoe looks up at the sky, noticing a blue balloon that didn’t come from her party decorations floating by.

She pretends it’s from Connor. Giving her a sign that he’s there, just like she asked from him hours before.

Somehow she feels like everything is going to be okay.

#deh fic #dear evan hansen #connor murphy #zoe murphy #cynthia murphy #larry murphy #dear evan hansen fic #connor murphy fic #zoe murphy fic #i'm so sorry for this i just couldn't help myself #deh #my writing

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ynibytina · 4 years

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Meet Evan Welcher!!!

With the recent passing of my Grandpa Peterson, I thought now would finally be a good time to put up an interview I did a while back with my friend, Evan Welcher since it also deals with death. I met Evan on Twitter through his twin brother, Steele, who happens to be the resident life manager of the dorms at WITCC (where I recently graduated from college). Evan is the senior pastor of First Christian Church in Glenwood, Iowa. In the last five years or so, Evan's been on quite a roller coaster ride of emotions, but that hasn't stopped him from trying to make a smile on other peoples faces. He went from the extreme happiness of meeting and then marrying his lovely wife, Danielle, (whom he refers to as "My Resplendent Bride"), to the agonizing sorrow of her cancer and death. To learn more about Evan and his new journey through life, please check out his personal Twitter, Instagram, or website.

People Who Inspire You: My Resplendent Bride, Rich Mullins, John Stott.

Favorite Bible Story: The parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32).

Favorite Bible Verse: John 11:25.

Favorite Musician: Rich Mullins.

Favorite Movie: Lady In The Water.

Favorite Books: Too many to list!

Favorite Color: Yellow.

Favorite Holiday: Thanksgiving.

Mac or PC: Mac.

Twitter or Facebook: Twitter.

Blackberry or iPhone: iPhone.

Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate.

Winter or Summer: Summer.

Pancakes or Waffles: Waffles.

Math or Science: Science Fiction.

Past, Present, or Future: Future.

Have you always wanted to become a preacher?

What made me want to be a preacher was the way God comes down into human history and saves fallen, broken, messed up people like me. When Jesus saved me I said to myself, "I have to spend the rest of my life telling people about this Jesus!" He is the only God who gives up His life for His people instead of the other way around.

I did not happen to grow up in a church-going family, but I did, in my totally biased opinion, grow up in the best family. God saved me when I was 16. At the time I wore a lot of black and was rather unpleasant to be around. I was a committed atheist and my world view was hostile to religion in general organized or otherwise. A friend of mine had become a Christian the summer of my 16th year, and when school resumed had been annoyingly faithful at telling me all about Jesus. She invited me to Church often. I always refused invitations and for my part, faithfully mocked her. One night I had a dream in which Jesus saved me from my wretched self. I awoke the next day perplexed and annoyed. I wondered if I had eaten a bad taco the night before. Nonetheless, despite my attempts to brush off and rationalize the dream...it stayed with me. Yes, it gnawed at my pompous faith in my intellect. I began running through the practical ramifications of being wrong about the existence of God. My atheism was based upon the shaky foundation of me assuming there was no God because I had never experienced God in my short life. I wagered that if there was a God He would not take kindly to the immense ungratefulness exhibited by of one of His creations going around telling His other creations that the Creator was, in fact, a fairy tale. My friend invited me to church again, and I went. The gospel (Good News) was explained to me and for the first time, I believed that God was real, and, that I was alienated from Him because of my own sin, and furthermore that all that stuff about the Cross was Jesus dying in my place so that I, even I, as undeserving as I am, might be declared righteous, and forgiven. Through no goodness or wisdom of my own, I believed that night. Faith was God's gift to me on that October evening. He bids us all to come to die with Him that we might live with Him. I love how just God is, because He won't turn anybody away.

When did you find out that your wife had cancer? How did you react to the diagnosis?

My Resplendent Bride had been coughing for several months. We went to the Dr. and they thought it was anything from her asthma acting up to pneumonia. However after several weeks without improvement they did an X-Ray and saw the baseball-sized mass in her anterior mediastinum. The mass was situated between her lungs right next to her heart. It was pushing against her lungs making it difficult to breathe. We later learned it was lymphoma, which is a blood cancer. We were sad because we both had seen the pain: cancer caused in our parent's lives. Her father had fought against brain tumors for many years, and my mother died from lung cancer.

I held my Danielle in my arms and we wept together: for the fight ahead, for the fears we harbored, for our unborn children. We were keenly aware of the fight ahead of us, but we also purposed in our hearts to trust in God's sovereignty. We believed that God is in control of all our lives and that nothing merely happens by coincidence.

A verse we clung to was Isaiah 41:10, "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

My Resplendent Bride fought cancer like the woman of grace that she was for nearly two years. During that time her lymphoma came back twice and morphed into leukemia. She went home to be with her Savior (John 14) May 3, 2014, dying from complications of a failed bone marrow transplant.

I have never known anyone like her. She was the love of my life. She is the best person I have ever known. God gave her to me for less than 3 years, but oh, the mark she left on my soul is indelible. Danielle was a woman who had yielded herself to her Lord as much as a human can. She was a missionary to S. Sudan, a teacher, a daughter, a friend to more people than I can count, and my Resplendent Bride. It is not cliche of me to write that her love changed me in ways that I can not fully comprehend or explain. True love has a way of doing that.

Is there anything that we can be praying about for you?

Please be praying for me as I mourn the loss of my Resplendent Bride. The Bible says that two become one in the covenant of marriage (Ephesians 5:22-33). There is something mysteriously powerful about marriage that I fear may be lost on many today. When someone is widowed they have spiritually been torn in two. The beauty of Christ is that He shall put us all back together again.

Many of the people we walk past and ignore everyday are virtual walking Humpty Dumpty's marching along in a daze. The people of God are tasked with waiting with the broken while rescue comes. This is God's beautiful design for the Church.

How do you turn such negative events in your life into positive ones?

I am thankful that it is not up to me to bring good from evil. God is always working (Romans 8), and it is enough for me to know that He is good, knows what He is doing, and has not forgotten His little lambs.

What does a normal day in your life look like now?

I wake up and drink in the coffee as well as tidings of distant lands that transpired while I slumbered (the news). If people are lucky, I take a shower (people are always lucky). Then I head off to my study at the church building and work on whatsoever needs working on! I believe God does powerful things through the proclamation of His word to His saints (don't you love how the Bible calls Christ's Bride "Saints"? That proves our righteousness comes not from ourselves but for Him!) so I spend a good portion my week writing Sunday's sermon.

If you could preach about any topic or Bible story on a Sunday, what would it probably be about and why?

My favorite thing to preach on is the forgiveness of sins, which is inseparable from the Cross of Christ. The banner we dwell under reads, "Christ Crucified For Sinners". The best thing about the Gospel is that it is not about us, it's about Him. The world has enough people who are really into themselves. The cool thing about God is that He knows our frame, that we are but dust. He knows we dustlings are fragile, broken, and rough around the edges. He also knows that we are battered, bedraggled, broken things looking for shelter. If you think you need to have all your stuff together before God will have anything to do with you: you have never heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

How would you describe your style of preaching? Also, why should people come to your church?

I don't yell at people. I don't beat the sheep.

I preach through books of the Bible, verse by verse. At First Christian Church we believe 2 Timothy 3:16, "All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness."

Preaching through entire books ensures that the Church gets a steady diet of God's revelation in the proportions the Holy Spirit doles out. When a guy is just doing topical series after topical series there runs the risk of the people of God only hearing the preacher man's hobby horses.

First Christian Church is an independent church trying to do things as much as the New Testament Church did as we can figure out. We admit that we are only human, and that the first century was a long time ago, but we think there are some clear hints in the New Testament about what the Church should look and feel like. At the same time, we deeply value the contributions of our brothers and sisters in Christ have made to the global church over the last 2,000 years. Tradition is not a dirty word.

What do you like to do in your spare time?

I read, lift weights, bike, write, and try to figure out woodworking!

What are five things that most people don’t know about you?

I am painfully shy.

I throw tomahawks.

I don't have all the answers, but I know the one who does.

I am a sinner/saint.

I am rooting for them.

What’s the best part of being a pastor and why?

The best part of being a pastor chooses to use us to accomplish His goodwill, and that goes for all His children.

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perfectlittlesatellites · 6 years

Text

October 3, 2018

I’ve had a really long day of running around. Grading during free periods, ending my day with 3 classes in a row and office hours, driving down to the hospital for a staff meeting and then back to school for the Freshman Parent Guidance Meeting, which I was asked to attended and have been hounded about for a month and have always received grief for not attending the evening session, only for Mark to ask me when I arrived, “What are you doing here?” because I was the only advisor to show up. The rage-filled live-texting I did was an excellent sample of the pettiness of school idiocy and politics, (and the violence of my creative streak).

I get home and S looks very grave and says he has to tell me something, and he didn’t want to tell me earlier because he knew the type of day I was having. He starts talking about my grandmother, who beat breast cancer-but we found out a year or so ago (when she fell and broke her hip) that her numbers were up, and it turned out the cancer was back and had metastasized in her bones. It’s terminal. We know that. She has been slowly but steadily declining in the two years since she broke her hip, but she’s also 86. She recently began experiencing difficulties urinating, got catheterized 2 weeks ago, and her urologist told my mom and my grandparents earlier this week at their appointment that the bladder itself is fine, but the issue could be tumors in her spine compressing her bladder, so they now have another appointment scheduled with her oncologist to get a prognosis.

All of which I knew-except, obviously, that last part, about spinal tumors and worse cancer news. Because despite telling me she’d keep me posted, when we talked this week my mother said everything’s “fine, nothing new.”

That information slipped out to S in a conversation with my brother yesterday morning, when when S let him know that our mom had specifically not mentioned that news, G turned white, looked sheepish, indicating to my husband that there was a reason I hadn’t been told, and that he had fucked up by sharing that information.

Needless to say, I’m fucking furious.

This has been my relationship with my parents and G more and more since moving out, reaching a really noticeable point about 4 years ago. My mom had called my at work one night and told me the cancer was back and that it getting into her bones was terminal. My voice shook a little when I asked about prognosis and next steps, and my mom said to me, “There’s no use crying about it. She’s in her 80′s. She’s had a good run. However long we have her, we have her.”

Like she’s a horse we’re sending out to pasture or something, and like I was unstable to react otherwise. This is where the alienation began to shift, and slowly turned into secret-keeping.

Like the dozen or so times over the last 2 years that my parents and G would have dinner out with my grandparents (and sometimes my aunt, if she was down from MA) and were eating 10 minutes away from our house and never thought to ask if S and I would like to be included, only to talk casually about it the next time we talked. Or my cousin’s autism diagnosis, which I had called 2 years beforehand anyway as a possible explanation for his over-stimulation and social lag. Or my older cousin’s anxiety diagnosis that eventually came out of all the GI tests he had done. At their anniversary dinner 2 weeks ago, my mom super conspicuously ducked out to our living room to take a phone call. After a few minutes I got a sinking feeling it was about my grandmother, since they had cancelled with us last minute because of her ER visit, and she looked like she got caught in a drug deal when I entered the room, only to tell me that she was getting an update from her cousin on my great aunt, who had been in the hospital and was being discharged to a rehab. And even then, that day it had taken all sorts of awkwardness and borderline aggression to get the information about my grandmother. My grandfather left me a message simply stating he was canceling and wouldn’t answer the phone when I called back to communicate my regret about it. So I called home and no one answered. When I texted G and asked what was going on, he hemmed and hawed and pretended not to know anything (because he was buying time to text/call my mom), who then called me from the beach and still resisted telling me what was happening until I pushed. So this whole keeping me out of the loop about family business has been building and building, and now it’s got me pissed off. Because it’s like since I don’t live under the same roof anymore, that dynamic I had always pushed back against-like my mom, dad, and G are family and I’m not-has just escalated, and now I’m not privy to any information whatsoever.

It’s like I’m no longer family-or at least truly family-because I was married and out of the house by 26, and did what I was supposed to by leaving the nest. And while before when we were kids G woudn’t stick up for me, but cling nervously to his position as the favorite, he is willingly watching me be cut out of this family-like, surgically, participating in the secrecy towards me and not really questioning it more than a superficial shrug.

So my dad bullies me with or without an audience, my mom and brother allow it, and my mom and brother block me from knowing what’s going on in the family, like I don’t have a right to be a part of it.

What. The. Fuck.

All because I got a little choked up when my mom dropped the bomb on me at work that my grandmother’s cancer was back when she had been cancer-free for so long?

Or is it because I cry at all?

Because here’s the thing: I know my grandma will likely not be with us much longer, especially if this tumor hypothesis ends up being true. If she has to be permanently catheterized, she will become demoralized, depressed, and give up, and she will deteriorate even faster. I know her well enough to know that. I don’t need a medical degree to get that.

And when she eventually passes away, I will cry. I will mourn the loss of my only grandmother that I really knew. I will miss her. I will grieve the impossibility of her getting to meet the next Eileen, her great granddaughter, and it will suck that she, my mom, my baby and I will not ever get to all be together. That sucks. I will shed a tear for the fact that when she and Grandpa went to Florida, and when mom and dad made up their minds about me, this altered the course of my relationship with her for a long time, and what it could have been, which I’ve only recently been able to enjoy. That we weren’t closer, especially as I became a woman and an adult. Sure I will.

Because I’m a fucking human being.

But I’m not going to lose my shit. I won’t be fucked up about it. Because I realized a while back that my parents had their own version of me that they presented to other adults in my life. And that while my grandma sipped the Kool-Aid for a little bit, and has spent most of the last decade living a mile or two away from my parents and G, she has been at times vocal about her preference for G-not directly, mind, but the message was there. But she also never did it at my expense. She clearly preferred him because he was the one my parents deployed to help them with tech in their house, and he was the one at all those dinners my mom was telling them I was busy for but I was actually ignorant of, and all offers I made to chip in were brushed off by my mom. But when she and I were alone, when we had our time together, she let me know what’s what.

I remember back in 2009 she was the one who requested my mom invite me to join her Mother’s Day trip to New York for an evening dinner and show since I lived there. She insisted on coming to see my apartment-she beamed at how, “metropolitan” I was, and as she was getting ready to get in the cab at the end of the night, she hugged me tight, and she kissed her bold red lipstick all over my face, and she told me,

“I am so proud of the brave woman you are. Keep going. I want you to stay here and see this through as far as you can take it. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not smart or you can’t do it, because you are! I love you for it, so much, my girlfriend.”

I obviously minimized and self-deprecated, just like I’ve always been taught. She whacked me in the leg with her cane and said, “Stop it. I love you, girlfriend. You keep all of this up-don’t you disappoint me by stopping too soon. I love you too much for you to ever settle. You got this.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know you do. You show me all the time by how proud you make me, every day.”

I cried so hard after that cab pulled away because that was the first time in at least a decade that anyone in my family had told me they were proud of me, especially without a qualifier (especially one that involved G), and it was the first time an adult in my family had said, “I love you,” in almost as long.

Since then she has often reminded S to, “worship” me because I am a catch, because I am her girl.

She gushed throughout the entire wedding process.

Every time I see her, she is happy to see me and she tells me how glad she is I continue to invite her for holidays (as if I wouldn’t?) and I get her her favorite snacks, and get her, “cool” gifts that help her feel hip and chic.

We had a long conversation when I saw her the 2nd or 3rd time after she fell, when she was in my mom’s nursing home for rehab. She was depressed and self-pitying and angry with mom for making her go to PT. I talked to her about the validity of her feelings and fears, but encouraged her to start the antidepressants that were being recommended by the staff psychiatrist-that there’s no shame in needing a little help-that her body and mind are connected, and it’s not as simply as willing the pain away. I encouraged her to talk to the social worker, to have someone on her side whose only agenda was to provide her with safety and validation and encouragement. And if she wouldn’t, to call me and yell and wail and bitch and that I could hold that for her. She got tearful and asked, “When did you become so smart, and so wise?”

I told her simply that it had been a while, but that mom and dad didn’t quite see it that way, and that it could stay our secret. And she took me up on it a few times, and she was always grateful for the ear.

So maybe she only sipped that Kool-Aid, and as much as she sings G’s praises and S’s in front of others, it will only ever earn an eye roll from me.

I won’t have unfinished business with her when she passes, whenever that is. Will I wish she had been more public in her acknowledgement of me? Sure. But that’s about me, not about her. She is a black and white thinking, and can only have one favorite. It doesn’t mean she devalues me. I will wish we were closer. But she knows I love her. She loves me the way she knows how: by outwardly favoring the boy, and sharing her quiet, more vulnerable moments with me.

I will not have any regrets. Because she saw me, and I let go of the need for her proclaimed approval once I knew it existed at all.

You know who will be really fucked up?

G, when he loses his most vocal source of praise and one of the few people who, “needs” him.

My uncle, the favorite child who has been largely uninvolved with her care despite being 15 minutes away, and missing many opportunities for time with her.

My aunt, who is depressive and perfectionistic, and who will struggle with guilt and anger towards her husband for uprooting her and the kids to MA, and couldn’t be more involved despite desperately wanting to be.

The most fucked up of all will be my mom. The oldest child who was never the outward source of pride, who broke her own heart to get the approval she wanted and is bearing the brunt of her care now. Who rarely gets a thank you but gets bitched at simply because she’s there, because she’s safe and reliable to receive her anger. I know she’s internalizing this. She is already batshit crazy about all of the praise she’s not getting, the reciprocity that’s not obtainable so long as my grandma is as bitter and angry and lost as she is right now.

The woman scolding me for having a human reaction to a cancer relapse is going to need the most whenever Grandma’s time comes. She is going to be bereft and lost.

And who does she think is going to provide her emotional support and hear all of this?

My, “feminine logic,” emotionally retarded bully of a father?

My emotionally stunted, overgrown adolescent brother who still sleeps in the same twin bed and lets his dad make his bagged lunch?

Or her daughter, who can speak about and hold emotions and provide empathy and gentleness, not just because she’s a compassionate person, but because she’s a trained fucking counselor, and not a cyborg?

THIS. THIS is what makes me so insane about all of this shit with my family.

I’m never smart enough until there’s a question G can’t answer because it’s my area of expertise. I’m never wanted around until I heed that response and back away. No gift good enough. What have you.

And I’m unstable and emotional when I communicate that they hurt me, and ask for what I need, or am overwhelmed or stressed about how my family treats me. It makes me angry and unworthy.

But when you need a free therapist? That’s when you want me to provide all of the things you denied me for all of these years, even as you’re still excluding me and hurting and keeping secrets from me?

When do I get to become a fully operational person to them?

Maybe I need to cut away from my family for a while. Or maybe altogether.

I feel like they just make me so angry all the time, and I hate the person I am in those moments.

I feel like with all of this, I’m being poisoned. I hate it.

#dysfunctional family

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