bookelfe:

I would like to start an official movement to replace the prevalence of manpain in fiction with granpain.

A grandmother’s boyfriend is left dead in her apartment.  She cradles the body tenderly.  Her face hardens.  SHE WILL GET HER REVENGE.

A grandmother stands on a roof, in a billowy leather coat.  A single perfect tear trickles down her cheek — but when she turns around to confront her ten attackers, there is no trace of it.

“No,” says a grandmother, when her grandchildren attempt to dissuade her from her lonely path of vigilante justice, and turns her sad, noble profile to the side.  “I work alone.”

GRANPAIN.