When I was seven years old, my Grandmother’s ladle went missing.
This was her favorite ladle. This was her only ladle. She had a very bizarre attachment to this ladle. She became convinced it had been stolen.
Suddenly, she trusted no one in the family. Accusations were thrown left and right. Fissures were ripping the family apart as everyone claimed innocence and my Grandmother only grew angrier. Everyone had unbelievably bad alibis. No one could be trusted in the Dark Times ruled over by the ladle thief.
She couldn’t just buy a new ladle, no, it was the principal of the thing- this was her Prized Ladle, and some heathen who dared share her blood had betrayed her and stolen it. The family was in complete turmoil- no one could hold a conversation for longer than five minutes without begging for the return of the ladle. Grandmom stopped making family dinners. No one was safe, no one escaped without feeling the weight of this crushing catastrophe.
And then, one day, upon opening a bag of flour, my Grandmother learned the horrible truth.
Her ladle…had just simply fallen into the bag without her noticing.
You would think this is where the story ends.
You see, Grandmother simply couldn’t be in the wrong here. She, upon letting everyone back into her life again, declared this was all Bonnie’s fault. Cousin Bonnie had been using her kitchen for something around the time of The Incident and must have knocked the ladle in, on accident or on purpose was anyone’s guess, and left it there for the bag to be sealed up without anyone checking.
The family was incredulous! After all the drama, the woman can’t even admit her on wrongdoing? We could not just stand for this. This was injustice. The eldest of Grandmother’s children started to formulate a plan amongst themselves.
For context, there are Nine Children, and at the time of this event, perhaps…Twenty Grand and Great Grandchildren, all of varying ages. All were eventually brought into play within the plot.
On Christmas, at the large, loud, entertaining family party, my Grandmother never stood a chance of noticing her daughter Megan sliding into the kitchen.
She never noticed the shinning, silver gleam of a ladle clutched in her hand, as she handed it off to Bonnie.
She never noticed Bonnie slipping it into her bag, and never questioned why Bonnie was leaving the party so early.
The plan was in motion.
It took dear Grandmother far too long to notice the ladle had once again gone missing. By the time she turned up at Bonnie’s doorstep demanding answers, the ladle was well on it’s way to Japan.
Grandmother wasn’t told this, however; Just told that maybe she should keep a better eye on her possessions.
Before the ladle got to Japan, there was a brief stop at Bonnie’s brother’s home in Hawaii, and he gave the ladle a tour of the beautiful islands, taking pictures all the while. Then, he had to deploy with the army in Japan, and the ladle went with him for some time. She saw the gorgeous sites and also learned the ways of a soldier.
The ladle grew weary of this life, and was mailed off to another relative.
Every day, my Grandmother would wax poetic about betrayal and her missing ladle. Every day, the ladle experience a new event, city, state, or country.
While smiling, peace keeping family members would come over to help my grandmother search her possessions for her missing ladle, the ladle itself was on the trip of a lifetime.
Sports games, box seats, tourist sites- this ladle and our family knew no bounds. One uncle bought a bunch of those can holders that look like shirts, so the ladle could keep modest on her adventures. Celebrities held her in their hands. She touched foreign sands. She found herself, her life and ladle-ality on this trip. The family literally sent this utensil on an Eat, Pray, Love journey just to be petty.
My mother and I received the ladle in the winter months, near the end of her journey. We took her to New York City with us, she saw the Rockettes, toured NBC, and sat with me at David Letterman’s desk.
Everyone, for all of the ladle’s journeys, took pictures.
We reach Christmas, a full year after the ladle escaped my Grandmother’s dramatic clutches. Grandmom finds herself surprised when she’s pulled into the living room and presented a large scrapbook and a large santa-sack that appears filled to the brim.
She opens the scrapbook and gasps, now face-to-face with what has been going on all year. The book was titled ‘The Adventures of Mabel the Ladle’. The first page proclaims that Mabel escaped because she had been lonely, and every picture in there conveys every single one of her fantastical adventures with the entire extended family.
Grandmother opened the santa-sack to discover everyone had bought her ladle’s that year for Christmas- metal ladles, fancy ladles, themed ladles, every ladle you could ever imagine.
Mabel the Ladle was never lonely again.
My grandmother never lacked in kitchen ware again.
When you’re at a party with a bunch of people, and it becomes so loud that it overwhelms you and you no longer understand or hear conversations. Basically, you leave to go to a different room in the house where it’s quiet and there’s nobody to bother you.
The part of the interview where Louis says he doesn't feel he's earned the status and wealth when compared to the average working class man, just makes me understand more why he does so much charity work, often anonymously and we only find out when the recipients come out to thank him. He donates his money & time, sponsors kids parties, families to stay at nice hotels & watch their concerts, or trips to Disneyland. Louis is trying to share his good fortune with others less fortunate and in need.
author’s note: my first mitch rapp anything really! i hope you guys enjoy this because i’m so genuinely in love with this fic! special thank you to @were-cheetah-stiles who helped me with this and gave me so much support! she’s on vacation right now, so she is unable to read it. anyway, enjoy!
Pulling the chair from underneath the table, Y/N set the last box of ammunition on the wooden surface next to the various handguns spread across the table as she sat down. She pushed her hair back behind her ear and sighed, ejecting the magazine from the gun by pressing the button on the side of the hand grip. She inserted the ammunition into the magazine, filling it back up before reinserting it briskly, hearing a clicking noise, which indicated that the magazine was locked in place.
She continued her actions, awaiting to hear the news on her next assignment from Irene Kennedy who was the director of the Counter-terrorism center at the CIA. Y/N had been recruited four years ago as a potential agent, only being twenty one years old. When Irene heard of the young woman and what happened to her as a teenager, she immediately took an interest.
Hades: “Never seen anyone open a pomegranate like that.” Persephone: “Fear me.”
First date. Going great.
(I’ve been making some editing and polishing on my comic The Family Party, since it maybe will be published in Swedish next spring. One thing I did was to add more pomegranate juice on Persephone’s hands in this scene. Which probably is my favorite scene in the whole comic, btw.)
Dionysus is that uncle that slips you wine under the table at family parties (because “I don’t believe in putting age limits on the little things in life”) and takes you to concerts with headlining bands you’ve never heard of (because “It’s music, kid, you don’t need to know it, as long as you feel it”) and goes to your first pride with you (because “The world is queerer than they’ve lead you to believe”) and when you have a problem he might not know how to fix it but he’ll sure as hell sit there and listen to you rant until suddenly you find yourself laughing and you know it’s thanks to him (because “Life only brings you down when you let it”) and he’s a little bit best friend and a little bit protective older brother and a little bit mentor and a little bit partner-in-crime and sure sometimes it feels like he’s the only one on your side but with a guy like him, the whole “you and him against the world” thing doesn’t feel so lonely.
Walking into your room, you didn’t even have to look to know he was sitting on your bed, you could smell his cologne the second you walked into the house. “Need something Klaus?”
“Just you love” you could hear the smirk in his voice. Finally looking up at him he was already staring at you. You hated it, but you also loved it. “I’ve come to invite you to my families latest party.” he got up and walked up to you. Looking down at your face he lightly strokes your cheek.
“With what happened at your last party, I don’t think so.” you turned away from him trying to avoid his gaze.
“What can I do to convince you to come? It wouldn’t be a ball without the most beautiful creature in Mystic Falls.” he had gotten closer to you.
“Well, with that compliment, how could I refuse” you tried to sound sarcastic, but he knew you meant it.