#i was at my paternal grandmas house with my dad grandma and my dads friend

[the-mozzarella-brothers]

ghhh i miss being in israel so bad

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Interview Tag

Thank you so much for the tag, @kaylinalexanderbooks!!!! (here)

I'll go with Nimwen from Of Starlight and Beasts because I don't think I've done one of these for her yet!

Are you named after anyone?

"I was named after my paternal grandmother. My parents' marriage was severely looked down upon by my mother's side of the family, because Dad wasn't of noble birth. They decided to choose the name because it was a nice keeping my grandma's memory alive but also a little bit as a way to stick it to my maternal grandparents. Her relatives never really got over their union, and didn't rest until they got the King himself - who was apparently a family friend - to annul my parents' marriage. Her family then arranged for Mom to marry some random noble from a 'proper House' - despite her protests - and cast my father and I out of their social circle."

When was the last time you cried?

"Hmm. That's uh... quite the question, isn't it? Very personal all of the sudden, y'know (her hands squirm and she laughs awkwardly). Let's just say... I have nightmares, and some of them are more... severe than others and sometimes end up crying because of it. I had one recently. I won't go into detail about the dreams though - that's not for you to know. Only Scarlet knows, and even he doesn't know the extra gory details."

Do you have kids?

"Certainly not! I'm barely a grownup and I don't think I should be left in charge of anyone other than myself - Scarlet is always going on like (she mimics her adoptive brother's voice and tone) 'why don't you take care of yourself?' or 'didn't you think this through before doing it? Again, Nim?', so maybe I perhaps might not be the most responsible person to grace this earth. I know, shocking. (giggles). But in all seriousness, I have far too much going on in my life to even think about something like that in the coming years - unless you count my friend Syp as a kid, because he's the youngest of our bunch and is always following me like a little shadow."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"No, not really. I'm usually too nervous about hurting someone's feelings or being misunderstood in what I'm trying to say or causing a mess, to the point that I somehow end up just fumbling over my words and making a fool out of myself. Scarlet is the king of sarcasm though, he always knows what to say or how to come up with a sarcastic quip at the right timing. I'm not that lucky (laughs awkwardly). He says I'm fine the way I am and that I don't need to change to be like others, but I do wish I was more eloquent like him."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"If they're dangerous or could be a potential threat. I've learned the hard way not to trust too many strangers and still struggle with a lot of... ghosts from my past, per se, looking to strike me down so I've got to be on the lookout for anyone that looks like they could work for the King or the Royal Guard. I also notice their stance and if I can use the terrain around us to my advantage to escape if need be."

What’s your eye colour?

"Dark blue, like my Mom's! I've got Dad's long strawberry blond hair to remember him by though, so that's nice. It's like I've got a little bit of both of them with me at all times - which is comforting, and sad, and a little bit weird. But nice."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings, happy endings all the way! I hate scary stories - there's enough terror, and gore and violence and hatred in our world, why should we be subjected to those things in the very fiction that is meant to let us escape it? I hate when the other kids in our bunch start telling horror stories when we're gathered around the campfire - it usually leaves me up all night thinking about it! I know this is probably very silly of me. But I still don't like scary stories one bit and I will keep not liking them until the end of time itself because I don't like being scared."

Any special talents?

"I'm very good at hiding - when you're the daughter of someone who was executed for treason he didn't commit, you learn to hide like your life depends on it, because it really does. Scarlet has also taught me how to shoot the bow and arrow, and I'm... average at it. If I really, really focus I can hit close to the target of my choice, or even hit the target itself if I'm lucky, but if I have to do so whilst moving that arrow is missing the target by a mile. I also know how to sew and embroider, as well as play the harp, which are things my father taught me when I was a child and I haven't really done in a while, so I wouldn't know whether or not I'm still any good at it."

Where were you born?

"I was born in the city of Sylla - which used to belong to another kingdom but was annexed by Tirawen around forty years ago. My Mom comes from a long line of Tirawenian nobles, who moved to Sylla when she was a child because they were given land - a lot of land - in the conquered terrioty by the royal family. My Dad came from a local family of much humbler standing, and he'd risen in the ranks of society by pursuing a career as dyplomat. It didn't end well, as you probably already realized."

Do you have any pets?

"Scarlet has a pet hawk called Arrow! I consider it my pet as well. My brother has trained Arrow to carry messages for us and to hunt. Sometimes he also sends it to scout terrain ahead to check if it's safe for us to pass. Arrow is the most adorable, cutest little bird of prey you'll ever hope to meet! He loves snacks and always chirps happily when you pet his feathers!"

What sort of sports do you play?

"Oh, many! The other kids in our little group of 'outlaws' are always coming up with new things to spend our time doing, so I'm never bored! If anything I'm the opposite. I'm also very good at running, climbing and jumping! And as I mentioned I have a passable knowledge of archery."

How tall are you?

"I would say average height, I never really put much thought into measuring my height, but I seem to be somewhere in the middle between tall and short. Scarlet is very, very tall, so I don't think he counts as a comparison, but my height is similar to that of most of our friends."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"... I uh, didn't really get to attend any of the schools and academies of the kingdom. With the whole 'my dad getting beheaded for treason' ordeal happened when I was really young so I didn't really get a chance. But I think I would've liked to attend the royal academies - I used to love books!!! I still do, but there aren't many opportunities to read when you're living in the forests as an outlaw."

What is your dream job?

"Okay, now, don't laugh, but when I was a little kid I used to dream of growing up to be a pirate - I loved reading tales about pirate adventures and the sort, and couldn't wait to see the ocean one day. I even got a cute little pirate costume for my sixth birthday! But I do realize now real life pirates probably aren't really that nice though. Nowadays I would say my dream job is to become something like a physician or an apothecary - I would love to help more people, especially those who don't have the means to afford healing, because the kingdom all too often tends to forget they exist."

Tagging (gently, no pressure):@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @inky-duchess @late-to-the-fandom @eccaiia, @willtheweaver @littleladymab @cabbojage @lassiesandiego @little-peril-stories @oh-no-another-idea @thepeculiarbird @rickie-the-storyteller @crowandmoonwriting @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gummybugg @forthesanityofstorytellers @doublegoblin @aalinaaaaaa @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @elshells @clairelsonao3 @anyablackwood @tabswrites and OPEN TAG

[farmerbebop]

I heard some birds singing at midnight yesterday and thought "At least McGoohan photoshopping has one good side effect, I guess".

So I put him in paintings again, while thinking of my paternal grandpa, who died before I was born. Yes, in case you are wondering, he also "resigned".

He was chosen to be a revolutionary at a very young age by an army officer who came across a group of boys playing one day and noticed one of them was different than the rest. He was then trained among the "elite" of his generation, who all went on to be high-ranking politicians, except him.

While he and his wife were out there fighting against the biggest war machine in the world, his son was raised on a thousand lines of epic poetry recited to him by his illiterate grandma, on the songs and poems of his father's friends. Dad didn't mind not being as talented as his father, in music, poetry, sport, everything. He loved swimming in the river, playing the guitar, and being mischievous. He later caused his mother many troubles, the least of them was him saying "How can I work for a boss who is less qualified than I am?" everytime she sent him somewhere to apply for a job.

How my grandma raised three kids alone after grandpa's death, how she wrote poems for him every year on his death anniversary, how we struggled and are still struggling to live, like many millions of our people who don't belong to the rich and corrupt ruling class of our country, I can't really tell you. I have never been good at this.

I just want to say one more thing. That "The Best of Friends" also reminds me of my best friend. She used to take a nap after lunch, I didn't. Everytime I turned up at her door after lunch she told me "What are you doing here?". And then let me in. After doing the dishes, she and her sister soon fell asleep with me lying between them, wide awake, daydreaming the summer noons of my childhood away. Those were probably the happiest days of my life.

References:

Pereza andaluza (Julio Romero de Torres)

Reading by Candlelight (Carl Vilhelm Holsøe)

In front of the house (Józef Mehoffer)

Wild Friend (Évariste Carpentier)

[acommonloon]

Earlier today I met up with friends to drink a beer that reminded me of earlier days. Earlier good days and today was a good day. Later I stopped for groceries and as I got out of the truck I saw a woman walking towards me.

She was wearing a loose dress and her hair was covered with a scarf. Her brows were dark her skin tanned, I thought she might be mid to late twenties. She held a piece of cardboard low against her chest. Based on world events, I thought she might be collecting support for Palestinians. I waited. “Excuse me sir” her voice was soft and I detected no accent. She unfolded the cardboard.

I glanced at it but only saw the words mother, hungry, children before I looked back at her eyes.

I was transported instantly to Strasbourg France, 2018. We were at the Christmas market there, it was near dusk and raining and one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever beheld. The medieval town square filled with lighted booths the towering church looming over it. We were cueing to get into the church when my son said, “Oh dad, there will be gypsy beggars up here. Don’t give them anything. It’s a scam.”

When the gnarled old woman shuffled up to me and handed me what I thought at first was a brochure, but was a tattered written plea for alms, I smiled and gave her whatever loose Euros I had in my pocket. My son snorted but I didn’t care. Didn’t care if it was a scam. It was small change.

In Chicago once I was approached by a young black woman who asked if she could have $5.65. I was surprised and asked why she asked for that specific amount. She pointed at the McDonalds I’d not noticed and said she could get a certain meal for that amount. I’d no idea if she was sincere but I laughed and gave her the cash I had on me which wasn’t enough. I shrugged and she thanked me in a perfunctory manner. It still makes me smile.

Anyway, I grew up just shy of really poor. My mom brandished a form of pride I recognize now as her shield to ward off shame. She was ashamed by her…our financial circumstance and she returned the near constant assistance she got from my dad’s mom with as much resentment as appreciation. She never failed to criticize welfare families even though we would have been them too without the help of my grandmother and others.

Some of that shame couldn’t help but rub off on me yet I was far more influenced by my grandmother than my mother. Seeing the grace with which she shared her own minimal resources with us, made me want to be like her. lol one last sidetrack.

I was 12 when my paternal grandfather died. By all accounts, he was a mean old man. Decades later a stranger said to me, upon finding out who my grandmother was, “There was never a finer woman than your grandmother.” Then he said, “She never deserved Alec.” Referring to my grandfather. Alec was a nasty man with rarely a good word to say about anyone. Except me. He called me little shitass and I knew he loved me.

When he died, he had a healthy bank account but also $4000 cash was found in a roll in the tackle box he kept in his truck. I heard my parents talk about this. One evening a few days after his funeral, my parents, my two sisters, both younger than me, and I were up at grandma’s. I’d been staying there anyway so she wasn’t alone.

My grandmother said, I want you to go into the dining room and in the drawer of the sideboard you’ll find where Alec kept all the wallets he got for Christmas presents and he never used.

I said I didn’t want a wallet. She said, “Go on, he would have wanted you to have one.”

I spent so much time in that little house on the Blue River, I knew where the wallets were. I pulled open the drawer and picked up the first wallet from the pile. It fell open in my hands and it was full of cash! A lot of cash.

I carried it into the living room to my grandma’s chair and held it out to her. She took it and looked up at me and said, “Where did you find this?”

“It was on top.” I said.

She said, “That can’t be. All your uncles and even cousins have been in there to get a wallet.”

She burst into tears. Her hand shook as she handed me a fifty. She pulled out more money and gave it to my parents who were also in a state of shock. Then still crying she said, I can take that trip to the Holy Land!

Her tears were of joy and though all I did was carry the wallet to her, I felt like I had done something for my grandma to make her happy. That feeling was a heady drug.

So. I fully recognize when I give someone something, I’m doing it for me.

It isn’t transactional. If they don’t appreciate it I don’t mind. Also, I recognize a gift can cause distress. I’m mindful not everyone feels gratitude at being given a gift. I learned that lesson…anyway

Today, in the Meijer parking lot, I looked down at the woman and smiled. “I’m going to give you some money.” I said as I reached into my pocket. “Where are you from?”

Romania

I laughed at that. Thinking of my son and Strasbourg.

I said, “Okay, I wonder if you are scamming me.”

Sorry, I don’t speak good English.

Right. I handed her a five and said, “Have a good day.”

I didn’t wait to see her reaction. On the way into the store my phone chimed with a text.

It was my son.

I typed, Hey guess whatI just did!

[plutopools]

about rocky and lola

(ahoy! oc x canon/self ship ahead! also, walls of text)

some of you guys wanted to know more about my oc, so here you are!

i would also like to preface this by saying: i am not an immigrant. while i am of italian descent, there are things in here that i cannot relate to because i was born in the us. please let me know if my oc is a gross representation of immigrants. i would feel awful if my character offended or misrepresented anybody. i won't be upset, i promise. please let me know

before lola met rocky:

lola immigrated from italy to the united states in 1912, due to the rise of crime and poverty. while i would also say fascism too, but mussolini didn't start his regime until the early 1920's.

she immigrated with her father and paternal grandmother. they would move around a lot while her father scrambled to find work. they finally settled in saint charles, missouri. her father worked several jobs to stay afloat.

while lola doesn't have many memories with her father, she knew that he was doing his best as a single dad who only knew so much english.

the few things that her father and her would do when he wasn't busy, is play guitar- which is how she got into playing music. (this is important to her adulthood btw- put a pin in it)

they lived a few houses down from the mcmurray household.

during that time, lola really locked down on learning english. her nonna was more like a drill sergeant when it came to teaching her granddaughter a different language. in some instances, she'd wake lola up in the middle of the night for quizzes. lola wouldn't say anything about it though. you don't talk back to nonna.

lola would also do insane amount of chores for nonna, and she'd take advantage of this full force.

this might make it seem like her nonna was uncaring and cruel, she really wasn't. she is more of a cool disney grandma than anything else. she's just looking out for her granddaughter the best way she knows how.

after lola met rocky:

after a while, rocky and lola bumped into each other when they were 11 and became friends.

'bumped into each other' is a cuter way of describing their first interaction. in reality, lola found rocky stuck in a bush and helped him out. it was awkward. but they warmed up to each other!

lola understood most english, however didn't understand rocky's grandiloquent way of speaking.

while rocky wanted to be courteous and speak in a way easier for her to understand, lola wouldn't allow him too. she wanted him be himself. that, and she also didn't want to be 'dumbed down' in a sense. she wanted to understand more english, and was adamant about it.

rocky inadvertently helped her with a lot of vocabulary, simply just listening to him and and asking him questions if she couldn't put the pieces together.

this also made her love his poetry, especially when they became teenagers.

rocky enjoyed listening to her speak in italian. with his fondness of romanticism and the renaissance period, he thoroughly enjoyed just listening to lola. it would be his very few instances of calmness.

he also thought her accent was adorable (who can blame him though? children speaking in italian is really cute)

music is when rocky and lola had the most fun. they would play music for hours, teach each other how to play their instruments, create instruments with glasses and cartons.

they were both just shining balls of creativity, and being together sparked it even more

( a little side note, but i headcanon rocky as an ENFP, and lola as an INFP )

rocky was, of course, much more adventurous. he'd drag lola into situations all the time. this would get her into a lot of trouble depending on how dangerous the 'adventure' was.

lola never got angry at him however. if anything, she was glad it happened.

there were only a few instances were lola ever raised her voice at rocky, but they were for good reasons.

lola was iffy about aunt nina. while she tried to understand why she acted the way she did, she just never understood her disdain towards rocky.

lola never disliked nina, she was very nice to her when she was by herself. but she also didn't like her in a way either.

rocky never opened up about his past until later in life, so she didn't know much about why he didn't have parents or why he was living with his aunt's. and frankly, she didn't want to pry.

lola knew, in a small way, what it was like to not be raised by your parents, so she didn't want to make him feel anymore alienated than he already did by asking questions.

she just understood, and rocky appreciated her so much for that.

for a brief synopsis of their childhood friendship: rocky helped lola come out of her shell and take risks, while lola helped rocky enjoy the littler things in life and taking things slow.

i'll talk about their relationship as teenagers in a later post, because this one is just so long as it is.

i imagined lola singing this and i started smiling like an idiot

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Trick or treat!

It's not done, but here's part 1 of this year's spooky Midge story.

“You know you don’t have to go.” 

Rose Maisel huffs out a sigh as she packs her bags. She’s well aware that she doesn’t have to go. Not only has her father been reminding her for a month, but her mother and grandfather as well.

“I’ll be dead soon, you know,” Zeyde Joel had complained to her the last time they spoke on the phone. “Wouldn’t you rather spend the summer with me?” 

Rose hadn’t said no, exactly, but it was relatively clear that she wasn’t terribly interested in spending the summer after her senior year of high school in Chinatown, doing the same old things she always did with her grandfather. 

Her paternal grandmother is rarely around long enough for a visit, but to Rose, the woman is fascinating. Famous and glamorous, and funny, but lonely, too. Her father and aunt don’t have much to do with their mother, and Rose’s own mother thinks the older woman is a monster.

To Rose, Grandma Miriam just seems lonely. Even with a slew of famous friends and a schedule so packed she hasn’t made it to a Passover Seder since Rose was little, there is something solitary about the woman, and Rose feels like maybe she can help with that.

“I know I don’t have to go,” she tells her father. “But I want to. I want to get to know her before it’s too late.” 

Her father sighs, a hint of sadness washing over his strong features. “There’s not much to get to know. If you’ve seen one of her comedy specials, you kind of know all there is to know about her. That’s just who she is now.” 

“But maybe it’s not,” Rose offers.

“That’s very sweet of you to think so,” he says, before letting out a deep sigh. “Okay. But if she drives you crazy, you call and your mother and I can come and get you.” 

She huffs out a soft laugh. “Okay, Dad.” 

***** 

Midge Maisel’s house is enormous, and beautiful. Right on the Long Island Sound. You can smell the salty on the air from the water, and off in the distance, Rose can see ducks heading for the beach. 

Her mother takes her hand as they stand in front of the house. “Call regularly,” she orders. “And don’t let that woman push you around.” 

“I won’t,” Rose promises. “She really lives here all by herself?” 

“Her and her ghosts,” Chava Maisel responds. 

It’s an odd sentence and Rose tilts her head, ready to ask about it, but before she can, the front door swings open and her grandmother rushes out.

“You’re here!” the older woman cries, rushing up and hugging Rose tightly. “Let me look at you,” she says, pulling back to take account of her granddaughter. “Ugh. You’re gorgeous. Look at this curly hair, and those cheekbones. To die for.” 

Rose hears her mother grumble something that sounds suspiciously like ‘go right ahead,’ and grins at her grandmother. “Hi! How are you, Grandma?” 

“I’m fine,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “Just taking a little time off, and I’m so glad I get to spend it with you! I have so many plans for us. We’ll get our hair done, and our nails, and we can go shopping.” 

Chava clears her throat loudly before Midge can keep talking, and the older woman whirls to look at her daughter-in-law. 

“Chava! You’re here, too!” 

“Hello, Mrs. Maisel,” Chava responds with a tight smile.

Grandma Miriam nods slowly, her lips pursed. “Still haven’t discovered conditioner, I see. I’ll have my hair stylist send you an email with some recommendations. Don’t you worry.” 

“Okay!” Rose cries, trying for a big smile. “Thanks for driving me, Mom. I will definitely call.” she hugs her mother tightly, before tugging on her rolling suitcase. “Bye!” 

“Is that all you brought?” Grandma Miriam marvels. “How do you pack so light?” 

 Chava sighs heavily, watching them go, before getting back into her car to drive away.

*****

The inside of the house, like the outside, is beautiful. Decorated in warm tones, with imported marble floors in the front hall. The living room holds a grand piano with a slew of framed photos settled atop. 

Oddly, there are very few family photos that Rose can spot. Her father’s baby photo in a small frame. Her aunt’s wedding day photo. Rose’s own school photo from the first grade, and a few older photos of her sister and cousin, but nothing recent. 

“Wow, Grandma, your house is really something,” she comments as she’s given a tour through the first floor.

“Thank you,” Grandma Miriam beams. “I love this place. I loved it when I first saw it, and I love it even more now that I’ve spent so many years making it my own.” 

Rose smiles as she’s showing the beautiful dining room, and the enormous kitchen, which she wanders around, inspecting ovens and stoves, refrigerators. 

“You like kitchens?” Grandma Miriam asks. 

“I do!” Rose enthuses with a grin. “I’ve been accepted to culinary school.” 

“That’s wonderful!” Grandma Miriam crows. “I used to love to cook, you know.” 

“You don’t anymore?” Rose asks. 

The older woman shrugs and gives her a sheepish grin. “There’s not really anyone but me to cook for, so I don’t really have a reason to. And I have a cook who makes most of my meals now. It’s just easier that way.” 

“Well, maybe we can cook together while I’m here,” Rose suggests. 

“Maybe,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “It might be fun.” 

Rose is about to respond, but gets extremely distracted with the pink Kitchenaid stand mixer in the corner. “Ohmygod.” 

Grandma Miriam laughs. “Note to self: leave Rosie the stand mixer in the will.” 

“It’s so pretty,” Rose breathes. 

“I never really had a chance to use it,” Grandma Miriam shrugs again. “Come on. I’ll show you the upstairs.” 

Rose nods and follows her up the back staircase to the second floor, where, presumably, the bedrooms are. “Do you have a lot of staff here?” 

“Not really,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “A cook or two. A couple of housekeepers. Nothing too extravagant.” 

Rose purses her lips, mulling that over. “Her family doesn’t have any of that. It’s just the four of them in the brownstone in Brooklyn. Rose, Mom, Dad and Shira. They do all the housework and cooking. It feels strange to have people do those things for you, but Rose supposes that with Grandma Miriam being so much older, and living by herself in such a big place, it only makes sense.

“This is going to be your room,” Grandma Miriam tells her, opening up a door at the end of the hall.

It’s another lavish room; the canopy bed is enormous, and soft-looking and there are bay windows with a perfect view of the Sound. There’s even a little TV sitting on top of the dresser. 

Rose looks around, stunned, as she takes it all in. “Whoa…” 

Grandma Miriam beams. “I’m glad you like it. My room is just around the corner, near the stairs to the basement.”

“What’s in the basement?” Rose asks. 

“Nothing, really,” Grandma Midge responds, waving a hand. “Just some old things. I use it for storage.” She beams at the young woman, reaching out to brush her curls away from her face. “You get settled. I am going to talk to the cook about what we’re having for dinner.”   

“I could cook,” Rose offers, watching her. 

Her grandmother waves a hand. “You just got here. Relax.” 

Rose watches her grandmother bustle away, before looking back at her new room.

“Right,” she breathes out. “Relax.”

[moonssugar]

i dont think i know any of your ocs off the top of my head BUT!!! 👑🧸🐾 :3

👑: person who raised your oc and/or was important during their formative years

i love this ask! for my character chelsie, her parents are divorced and she ended up in custody of her mother growing up. her mother is terrible though and chelsie is closer with her paternal grandma chandra. they dont get to see each other in person but they always video chat and talk on the phone, share the things going on in their lives. her grandma even thought her how to cook that way. her grandma has been a source of love and comfort for chelsie her whole life even more so after the relationship between chelsie and her mother got worse when she came out as transfem. because her parents are divorced her grandma is also the main connection to her south indian culture as chelsie is half south indian. chelsie confides in her grandma before anyone else. she wants to become more like her in so many ways. to chelsie, shes everything she could dream of becoming

🧸childhood friends:

sam has known em the longest of all his friends and they met at the beginning of middle school. because theyre both misfits they stuck together and had been each other's only friend for a long time until they went to high school and met more people. they have an overlap of interests like fandoms and both of them have a soft spot in their heart for each other. for em particularly its special because after discovering theyre aroace they hesitate to form close bonds with people for fear that someone will want something romantic from them. sam never did that and made it clear he'll never expect that from em so he's earned his place as their most trusted person

aubry and fatima have been best friends since they were five years old and they've been inseparable ever since. they live in a small town so the choice for friends is few and the topics for gossip is many, not a good combo for them unfortunately being easy targets. when people refer to them they always refer to both of them as a pair because they are always together. the girls are very content to be each other's only friend even if their little backwards town thinks theyre both strange. aubry appointed herself fatima's defender long ago and thats never going to change. i hope you can tell theyre very in lesbians with each other

🐾pets:

aubry has a chesnut mare she named ....(drumroll) chestnut who she absolutely loves. that horse is a little wild though but theyre made for each other. she takes care of two more horses (applesauce and benny) that arent technically her's but her dad's and belong to their family. sam takes after his mom when it comes to loving plants and his room is full of plants he's named and looks after. he loves the succlents and cacti the most! chelsie doesnt have pets (or plants) although she tried mice one time and it was disastrous (it ended with her and her mom having to move houses lmao)

link to original list of oc asks

[krookodyke]

do you have any hcs for which yellowjackets are jewish?

anon by sending this ask you have secured a spot as my best friend. please come over for challah & kugel on shabbat this week.

ANYWAYS obviously clearly shauna is jewish. it’s a very certain and specific vibe… i think both of her parents are, her bubby on her mom’s side came over just before WWII and her dad’s family has been in The Area since the early 20th century i’d think. she doesn’t really GAF about her own judaism but jackie thinks it’s soooooo cool. jackie pulled up to the shipman family seder once when they were smaller kids and was like WOWIE ZOWIE! that’s also because jackie loves shauna’s family so very much and they love her, LOL, so by proxy she loves anything jewish because it’s associated w that joy. i’ve actually written a fic about shauna’s bat mitzvah (she’s acutely miserable) i also have a fic in the works that’s shauna sitting shiva for jackie… YAAAAYYY MISERY! 🖤

because i tend to project i really want to say van is jewish… but in a distant way. i’m thinking there’s a paternal jew slay there, in that her dad was jewish but didn’t want to raise his kids jewish and after he died (i’d think when van was little but small enough to remember, like she was maybe 8) it was like. Well. and her mom is suuuuuper catholic so there’s not much space for her to explore it. she probably has a bunch of her dad’s old judaica but just has it sealed away in a box in the attic or something… honestly i don’t think (crash or no crash) van ever saw any sort of faith fitting into her life (or at least her life out of the Wilderness), much less judaism, so it’s just something she doesn’t do. vicky palmer gives me irish american vibes, but like Assimilated (like her family came over a Good amount of time ago) and van most likely did irish dancing as a kid much to her chagrin. poor girl!

i think nat’s dad is italian catholic but her mom is lowkey jewish. like nat’s maternal grandma was jewish but she died when nat was really little and her mom doesn’t talk about it and just won’t. something interesting about nat’s mom is that she’s very, like, submissive, and will just succumb to the circumstance and doesn’t really challenge things. because of this nat knows she’s locked off, she’s a sealed box, and won’t talk about anything regarding her parents to nat. it’s distant and a sore subject and nat doesn’t like to talk about it really either, especially because her mom doesn’t even talk to her own dad (nat’s grandpa) anymore. might be because of that might be because of Something Else. who knows!

but tl;dr i think miss shipman is Definitely a bonafide new jersey jew, with nat and van being Jew-ish but it’s not really something they can talk about or ask about further. i would love to write (or see!) a fic about the yellowjackets coming over for a passover seder at shauna’s house on the second night… i think it would be very fun & sweet & slay. as east coast girls it’s just improbable that None of them are jewish… and at the very least i hope we get shauna jewish confirmation… it’s so needed.

[allisonreader]

It's been a busy past four days. From going out of town for my brother's graduation, to watching a streamed funeral for the last of my mom's aunts, to driving a family friend to a different city and back home today. Well, I guess technically that's been over the course of five days. It's still a lot. Especially when a lot of it is dealing with higher level emotions/draining of the social battery.

For my mom the funeral was hard, not even so much for the fact that it was her last aunt who died, but it struck her in particular about the emphasis that was put on how much she loved her grandkids and great grandchildren. When my brothers and I NEVER had that. My mom's mom died when she was only 21 due to breast cancer, so none of us knew her. Though my mom knows that she would have doted on us. Her dad and her had a strained relationship and had pretty much moved out of province as soon as my grandmother had died. Though all things considered, he was a pretty decent Grandpa. He always made sure each of us got a card on our birthday and a card at Christmas. We usually saw him at least once a year whether it was at Christmas, him visiting us in the summer or later us visiting him in the summer. Even if it took us two days to get to where he was.

My dad's parents were closer, only a five hour drive instead of a two day one, but they barely grandparented. Grandma in particular didn't have much to do with us and didn't like mom. Grandpa was a little better, as he was slightly more active and intent on being a grandparent, but let's just say crying didn't happen at either of their funerals by my brother's or I. How do you mourn for people you barely knew? Any from us was more for what could have been or those who were closer to him.

The most grandmotherly figure that I had and knew was my cousin's grandmother. She died at the beginning of COVID, right around Easter time. Her death was the hardest out of them all. Even just writing this has me teared up completely because she truly was the closest person we had to a grandmother. And because she died during the peak of lockdowns I never got to go to a funeral or memorial for her like I always expected to. She felt like just as much as family to me as any of my other grandparents, but in a way more than that too. As she was almost always around when we went over to my Aunt and Uncle's. We saw her at Easter, we'd see her at Christmas. We got to enjoy her baking. She was truly such a loving and caring woman who was a social butterfly.

While you're reading this, you can't really see how many times I've stopped to have a cry about my surrogate grandmother. Which has been a few and she's been the only one that I've actually cried for, and she's not even technically my grandmother, but she sure took the place of one.

The thing is, she takes such an important place in my heart without even ever having given me a direct gift. Just being around her and her love was enough of a gift (and her baking).

The one time, when I was already an adult, I had to drive my mom to the city that my Aunt, Uncle, and grandmother figure lived for medical reasons. During that trip, I along with my cousin and her cousin (who for the longest time I thought was my cousin as well, just because I always saw her at my actual cousin's place) were invited to their grandmother's place for lunch. That was the first time I truly understood what going to grandma's house could be like. It was such a revelation to me, because I had never had such an experience like that one before. I felt so loved with these three people I had known all my life as I was encouraged to eat more than I could fit. So different from what little I could remember of my own grandmother who had died years before and showed preferential treatment to other cousins.

I can remember both the last hug with my grandmother figure and my paternal grandma. Both were long, but grandma's was long and awkward (at least to me, I haven't a clue how she felt, but we both knew it was likely her last hug.) . While grandmother figure's was long, slightly to the point of awkward, but filled with such love and care, knowing that while it might not be the last hug, it definitely could be. And I think it probably was. But oh I still love her so much and miss her. Which is why writing all of this up about her is making me cry.

I'm far off the point that I originally intended, which is not directly related to my grandmother figure, but due to the fact that beyond her, my brothers and I really didn't have a big grandparent influence on us. All of our great grandparents were long dead by the time us kids came around and my mom always hurt for us kids for what we didn't have in the way of missing grandparents. But as I told her yesterday, we didn't know any different. To us, distant grandparents was all we knew, and my brothers knew that even more than me. And when you don't know what you're missing, then it can't bother you. I really only started to learn about how active some grandparents were in their grandkids lives after I was an adult and started working. That's when I started to really realize what I had missed out on and became slightly jealous over the fact that others had such loving and caring grandparents. Now I'm kind of past that, as I know what kind of grandparents my parents will be when I hopefully have babies. They'll be the kind that I never had, except through my cousin's grandmother.

[voxceleste]

my maternal grandparents are moving out of their house rn (it was a rental but they've been living in it my whole life) and i feel some type of way about it considering that my paternal grandparents' home (that they built themselves in the 70s and i grew up next door to) burnt down last year and in both cases i didn't get a chance to do any like. last visits or chances to document these immensely emotionally meaningful childhood places before losing access to them... :^(

particularly b/c my extended family relationships by and large could not be said to be uncomplicated or "good" but i have so many memories of running around playing in those forests with my siblings and cousins because they were both rural properties in the woods... my paternal grandparents aren't selling the property (yet), they're living in the trailer i grew up in, but their house itself was very magical and unlike any other house i've been inside in my life... multistory eccentric log cabin full of hundreds of books and 40-year-old couches and walls covered in newspaper clippings and weird photos and souvenirs and figurines and stuff. lots of random animal skulls that were found around the neighborhood over the decades or while treeplanting, including a bear and cougar. the whole thing was like a weird art installation. and it's gone forever...

right after my dad died i was worried they were going to sell the property to cover debts and things so when i was back for the funeral i took some cursory photos of the place and i remember my grandma was all defensive like "are you taking pictures to show your friends [with the implication that it'd be to make fun of them/the house]?" and i've never forgotten that... truly iconic moment that sums up that entire side of the family... like what the fuck, you're all so cynical and defensive about your weirdo lifestyle you voluntarily chose to live, i'm trying to keep some kind of archive of one of the most beloved places in the world to me because my father who grew up here just died... HELLO

[lea-heartscxiv]

15 OC Questions!

I was tagged by @van-yangyin, thank you so much for tagging me!

Among so many sims that @van-yangyin and I have created, this time I'll choose Icaro D'Angelo from our "save" IcarRyu, since last time I chose one of our sims from our "save" JAKK. (Although it doesn't really go for separate saves since they coexist in the same savefile, but it's to understand me better).

My name is Icaro d'Angelo, nice to meet you or as they say in my place of origin: Piacere di conoscerti.

Well, let's start with the questions and see how I answer them.

1. Are you named after anyone?

My parents wanted to continue the tradition of naming their first child after my nonno (grandpa), since my uncle Luca skipped this tradition. But my paternal nonno (grandpa), Alessandro, had enough of that and said: Non più Alessandro [No more Alessandro!]

This anecdote is always told by mom, saying me: Your grandfather Alessandro shouted it in the hospital while he was visiting you for the first time.

Dad started thinking about my name, poor him, he thought had my name all figured out. Mom and grandparents (my paternal grandfather and my maternal grandfather) were talking and came up with three names, and at the end it was nonna (grandma) [my paternal grandmother] who gave my name, saying these words: Questo piccolo cherubino si chiamerà Icaro d'Angelo. [This little cherub will be called Icaro d'Angelo].

My father could not say anything, as he never disagreed with my grandparents, although he only wished that I wasn't stupid, as he said Icarus of Greek mythology was.

When I was 5 years old I asked my nonna (grandma) why she gave me that name and she told me: Perché dal momento in cui ti ho visto so che saresti stato curioso e saresti volato alto, ma con cautela. [Because from the moment I saw you I know you were going to be curious and fly high, but with caution].

Me: So it wasn't because you thought I was dumb?

She that day touched my head and said would talk very seriously with my father, in the afternoon I heard a few screams from nonna (grandma) and dad asking for forgiveness.

Also from that day on Dad never said anything to me again about the story of Icarus and how silly he was.

And that is the story of my name and who gave it to me.

Sorry maybe this doesn't interest you but I had to write it:

They say that there is a star called MACS J1149+2223 Lensed Star 1 that is more than nine billion light years away from Earth, that they nicknamed it with my name, well with the name of the mythological character in his honor and that has never been photographed, so I wonder: How do they know it exists if they haven't been able to photograph it?

I feel this, sometimes I write my own thoughts, something that not everyone likes, as they say that they are things that are not asked of me.

2. When was the last time you cried?

The last time I cried was when Orion my best friend and with whom I shared many getaways and outings, took her last trip to the stars.

I miss her licking and her soft fur, but I know that she's protecting me from her constellation, I know that wherever I go she can see me.

Since I was little she has always accompanied me, and we have always slept together, in winter it was a good blanket, in summer it was very hot but I relaxed sleeping with her, so I knew I wasn't alone in that big room.

3. Do you have any kids?

I don't have any kids, but as if I do since I have two little brothers and sometimes when my father goes for a week or two to work abroad and my mother accompanies him, I'm left in charge of them, I'm lucky that sometimes Ryuuya comes to help me, I haven't told you anything but Ryuuya is my best friend, my schoolmate, my neighbor and my boyfriend (it makes me tingle when I say that word).

When we go to college, Ryuuya and I will go to a house or apartment to live without our parents.

My parents and Ryuuya's parents are so called helicopter parents.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

I don't know what sarcasm is, rather I don't know how to use it and I don't understand it, I looked it up once on the internet, but I don't understand it.

I mean, why do people say those phrases if they really don't mean it but the opposite? Why can't they say it clearly?

This example I'm going to write is taken from the internet

Example, they don't want to be talked to because they say: Talk to the hand.

They couldn't say: I'm not interested in what you say, don't talk to me.

It's easier for Ryuuya and me to understand the latter than the former.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

The hands if are visible, but the lips because that's where I look when I talk to someone to look "normal"' and make them think I'm looking their eyes.

6. What's your eye color?

My eye color is normal in my family, although they say I have beautiful light blue eyes, lighter than my family's eyes.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies, I like scary movies a lot especially watching them with Ryuuya, it's a lot of fun because we start making theories and the things that the main characters should do to not be in that situation. Sometimes we also watch it with Marena who is my cousin, she likes the romance ones, but she doesn't like to watch them with us because she says we break the ending for her.

Besides, happy endings look very unrealistic, since it doesn't always end well outside of the movies.

8. Any special talents? Special talents? Talent?

My special talent? Mmmh… I really like astronomy and mythology, but I think my talents are photography and painting.

9. Where were you born?

I was born in Tartosa, where you can see beautiful stars, because there are never lights that break the peace of a starry sky. But where we live now, I have to wait for a blackout or go far away to the countryside to be able to see the constellations.

That's why every summer when there's camp, I like to sign up and drag Ryuuya and my cousin along with me.

By the way I now live in Evergreen Harvor, the only nice thing there is Ryuuya and my room.

Before I lived in a big house, with a big room, I'm not going to say I didn't like it but sometimes it was too big for me, the room I have now is cozier and more comfortable, the only thing I miss from the other one is the constellation sky that dad had made, following the constellation map I made for him, and the balcony I had in my room, where I could look from a small telescope I had, the stars.

Dad had the idea of saying that we were going to live in an apartment like the working class people lived in, and that's what we did.

Although I must say something, when Dad said the word move, I thought I was the one who was going to move to an apartment alone… but Dad and Mom said I was too young to live alone, and I gave them many good reasons why I should live alone, but they said no, and they got angry.

10. What are your hobbies?

My hobbies are Astronomy, Mythology, Photography and Music.

Astronomy I can only practice it when the weather and lights let me, but I can always talk and write about it.

Mythology I love, all kinds of mythology, not only Roman and Greek (although those two are my forte).

Photography is one thing I always do since I always carry my camera with me, the camera was a gift from nonna Celestine (my grandmother Celestine), she gave it to me when I turned 4 years old, and I haven't stopped taking pictures since that day.

I love music and yes, I'm a classic, I really like the Spanish guitar, I don't like the electric guitar, the Spanish guitar has a special melody, more natural and more beautiful, at least for me. By the way, we have a musical group.

11. Have any pets?

No, in the apartments we live in we aren't allowed to have pets, but when Ryuuya and I go to live in a place where we' a're surrounded by countryside I will have many dogs and a cat…. well two, with Ryuuya, I think he's the reincarnation of a cat. My nonna Celestine has a very nice and quiet cat, maybe too quiet. She also has a dog just like Orion, and that's because he's one of Orion's children, since she was mom and grandma.

I used to have Orion as I said above, she was my best friend and only friend, since I used to do home school, but I'll explain that another day, assuming you are interested of course.

Sorry, I'll continue with Orion. She was an Australian Shepherd, for me was the most beautiful of all, was smart, learned things very fast, and my mother told me that since I was born and we went home, she never left my side for a moment, I must also say that she liked to run a lot and when I went jogging Orion went out with me, some nights we would escape and we would both go to see the constellations or the full moon that looked beautiful from the beach of Tartosa.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I have 3 favorite sports but none of them are played at school, during the summer surfing, during the winter snowboarding and all year round skateboarding.

Yes, as you can see all 3 sports are board sports, I don't like anything to do with balls, not even ping pong balls.

13. How tall are you?

My height is 185 cm/6' 1".

14. Favorite subject in school?

If there was astronomy it would be that one, but since it doesn't exist, I would say Art and Music.

15. Dream Job?

My dream job would be to be an astronaut but I don't want to be away from Ryuuya and I want to have a dog, and in space for now you can't have them.

So my second dream job is to be a private investigator, so I could be close to Ryuuya and have a dog to be my work and adventure partner.

My parents want me to work in whatever motivates me, except for what my uncle Luca works in, I don't know what he works in but my father says he is involved in weird business.

✨✨✨✨

I am shy and a disaster to communicate with people, I will leave a notice that NOBODY is forced to do it, do it only if you feel like doing it, clarified that, I will tag: @simsfurr ,@mocham-sims ,@simsjerry , @freedomending(Hi, nice to meet you. As Van said you can do it about any of your system members if you want, if it doesn't make you uncomfortable of course, if it's rude then please ignore my tag 🙇💦), @kyou-sims4, @fuku0330, @bnt0,

Also anyone who wants to do so and is not tagged.

What I would like is that you tag me to know more about your OCs.

[addictwoapen]

talking with grandma

i'm very lucky to have my grandma. She is my maternal grandmother, and we talk on the phone every two weeks. I call her when I go for a walk because I like her company. I ask her questions about her life, she is exactly 60 years and 12 days older than me. We are both Geminis with emerald birth stones, and when she passes her favorite emerald ring will go to me.

My grandmother is a very intelligent woman. She was married at 19 and had two kids within a few years. She has been widowed since I was five years old, and is a testament to the resilience of women. I don't remember my grandfather well, but she speaks of him so fondly, and he seemed to match her intellect so well. I only hope to find something like that some day.

While walking the other day, the subject turned (as it does often) to my dad (her son-in-law), and how I wish that he would heal from his trauma and let go of grudges. We talk about this often, because no on else in my family will listen when it comes to the issues my dad has.

Eventually, my grandmother says "it always astounded me how you could find a way to be out of the way whenever we needed you to be". She recalled the time my brother and I were rough housing and he fell onto our our chair in the living room, one with an old large nail sticking out, and cut his leg. My brother is autistic, and this was the first time he was going to need stitches, so my grandma took us to the emergency room and called my parents. She says I walked right over to the little coloring table full of kids and colored quietly in the corner.

Before my grandpa passed, he had had a stroke about 7 years prior, and so he struggled with mobility. Well one day he fell and it was pretty serious, but my grandma had to pick me up from daycare, and when we met the nurse back at her house, I walked to the kitchen, sat down, and started coloring.

She said "you were always so mature for your age". "you always knew, at a scarily young age, how to make things easier for other people".

In case you were wondering, I'm in graduate school to be a therapist.

"You were always a fixer", my dad explained to me weeks ago on a phone call when talking about me in high school.

Both of these phone calls make me sad. Because for years I was like that, and I think it made me angry and upset. I think my brother struggled with autism, and while he needed the attention and rightfully so, I felt like I had to be perfect just to make things easier for my parents. I don't want them to worry about me, because I had to go it alone for a majority of the life.

This was true when three close family members died within three years. This was true when my dad and his niece were not on speaking terms due to conditions of my paternal grandmother's will. This was true when I was depressed and had no friends.

I kept to myself because I didn't want to be the reason to cause any problems.

This was also true when I started having suicidal ideation. This was also true when I started cutting myself with a little shard of glass in seventh grade that I kept hidden in my window after a picture frame fell off my bookshelf.

My parents have no idea that these things were occurring. As far as they were concerned, I did well in school, I got good grades, I was a really good athlete, and I didn't get in trouble (unless you count refusing to eat my vegetables).

Finally in eighth grade, the mental illness was taking a toll on 13 year old me's body, and I was tired all the time. "Lethargy" they called it. I couldn't run for long periods of time, and my gym teachers noted that I struggled to have the energy to complete the daily warmups, which was strange for me since I was an athlete and played multiple sports at the time.

So, my parents took me to the doctor, and they ran a blood test. They suspected low iron, and that was unfounded. There was no issues with my thyroid despite the expansive family history of women who struggle with hypothyroidism. There was no explanation for my lethargy. So it stopped there.

No one asked how I was doing mentally (hint: not fine).

No one asked how I was handling the deaths of my aunt, then my beloved grandmother's dog, then both of my paternal grandparents (hint: also not fine).

No one asked me how my family was doing. With my dad's rage and both of my older brother's seclusion (hint: really not fine).

It's hard now as an adult to look over that and think "why did no one look out for me". "why did nobody think that I was worthy of attention and checking-in on?".

No wonder I became a fixer.

No wonder I'm a therapist.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

128 of 2024

Favorites

Created by shelbylovestyler

Soda: vanilla Coke, but since I can't consume caffeine, then Fanta. Food: waterzooi, rice with veggies, Polish bigos, cabbage rolls. Video Game: none. Board Game: none. Phone App: any photoediting app. Website: priyom.org and sigidwiki.com. Letter: J. Number: 16. Time Of Day: morning. Color: black, green, purple. Day: Friday. Month: from April to September. Season: spring and summer. Store: Delhaize. Fast Food Place: McDonald's. Movie Genre: none. Music Genre: djent, prog metal, sludge, post metal, hip hop, aggrotech, 80s synthpop, futurepop. Book Genre: young adult. Yes I know. Pair of shoes: my black high top canvas sneakers from Fila. Brand: Bershka, Pull & Bear, H&M, Cropp, House. Boy name: Joris, Damian, Adrian. Girl name: Laura, Monica, Sylvia. Sibling: my sister as I have only her :P Animal: cat, cheetah, elephant, rabbit. Body of water: the sea. Planet: Saturn. Game show: none. Tv show: Ranczo, Swiat Wedlug Kiepskich, Allo Allo, Keeping Up Appearances, Poldark. Flower: tulip and iris. Occupation: electrician lol. And anything to do with trains. Train drivers, train conductors, railway maintenance staff. Hobby: trainspotting, photography, signal identification. Cartoon: Shaun the Sheep. none. Card Game: none. Cookie: chocolate cookie. Smell: vanilla, cinnamon, lemon, sea air, and the air after rain. Flavor: cherry. Emotion: happiness. I also like dark things, but I'm not depressed. Kind of cake: European cheesecake. Vegetable: cauliflower, broccoli, bell pepper, leek, onion, garlic, carrot, beans, green peas. Fruit: sour cherry, strawberry, green grape, tangerine. Seafood: no, thanks. Family member: my dad and my sister, and my late paternal grandma. Friend: my husband. Text smiley: :D Word: alsjeblieft. Quote: none in particular. Gender: I'm definitely into guys. Hair color: light blonde, copper red, black. Eye color: green and blue. Time of day: morning. Clothes to wear: hoodies, platform boots, wide leg pants. Chore: dishes and laundry. Alcohol to drink: white wine, apple cider, kriek beer. Actor: none. Actress: none. Feeling: calmness. Fabric: satin, cotton, silk. Pattern: horizontal stripes. Holiday: Christmas.

[min3nc]

interesting facts about my family:

the matriarch, my grandpa’s mother, was a prostitute named Empress (Emperatriz) not a stage name. that’s her actual name. it’s a cool ass name btw.

we’re, as some DNA test my brother did some time ago out of curiosity say, related to Chile’s conqueror Pedro de Valdivia.

my grandpa once got a call from argentina, and i was close enough to hear (plus his phone was really loud lol) how some dude said “Mr Santander? Yes, I’ve called you to tell you that you’re my brother on (their father side).”. My grandpa went “ah, am too old to do this shit again.” and hung up. he already did it with two of his brothers btw, some guys he met and the 3 of them went “yooo we all look the same! we pass off as brothers hahaha! crazy!” before they realized that they had the same mother.

my cousin was the second case in chile for aneurysm in children. my aunt was the first recorded aneurysm case in her town. my cousin’s daughter has an aneurysm lodged in her spine and is the only case in chile to have that condition. my dad’s ex wife once was, very rudely, joking about how our family seems to bring aneurysms to people. she had one a few years later.

all of the women in our family have almost been nuns. I don’t know why we never committed. I just know that none of us ever finish the communal studies. my middle brother was also almost a pastor but also didnt end up committing and also almost got kicked out of his school because he wrote “Nun (name) likes ‘em veiny.”. we’re all agnostic btw.

my older brother ended up marrying a woman whose parents were my grandparent’s best friends when they were teens. they even have pictures together! the interesting thing is that this isn’t the first time it’s happened, as my mom and dad got married and only then did my grandparents realize they ALL knew each other, and both my grandpa’s had actually known one another for years, bc they had founded a fire station together, and my paternal grandpa has a pic of him holding my mom!

my mom has had many boyfriends and lovers who are rich, famous and important. she still married my dad, for some reason. One of his boyfriends went to become a SENATOR, another a Succesfull ATHLETE, and another one’s an actor. my dad sometimes can’t breathe in his sleep. my mom is still madly in love with him even though they’re divorced and have been divorced for almost 20 years.

my brother once escaped our house to go “adventuring” and ended up in Bolivia. no one knew where he was until he crashed into my dad and his ex-wife; or, at the time, his side-chick. awkward

anyways. why did i feel the need to write all of these? idk. i was simply talking with my grandma and we had a laugh over these. have fun.

[tentavamp]

I don’t really make life updates on here because im not really like. “exciting” or on at reasonable times or up to date on what everyone’s talking about to join in on the conversation… or producing any content worth paying attention to… but my god i’m fucking going through it so im sorry but i need to write a little vent diary entry here.

I’m kinda half moved in with my paternal grandmother, because she’s at the age now where she needs some help here and she doesnt trust strangers, so my family enlisted me to help as sort of a little part time job thing that they would pay me for (they havent started paying me yet). I’ve been here a few weeks but all of my stuff, including my critters, are back home. it’s only 30 or so minutes away but it’s fucking me up.

I feel like I don’t live anywhere right now. all of my stuff is back home and i can’t keep constant vigil over my animals. my dad keeps calling me a hoarder and won’t just let me move all of my stuff here as if i actually WAS living here. i cant stay with my girlfriend because the longer im away the worse i feel and the more they imply im not fit to help her. i’m supposed to just doing small stuff around the house for my grandmother but somehow im not doing it good enough.

I’ve been hyper paranoid about listening out for any sounds that might mean that she needs my help. My sleep schedule is so fucked because of it.

But even though im fucking trying to be hyper aware at all times, she fell while she was getting up out of her chair this morning. it was at like 5 am and i didn’t hear her and wake up until like 7. i feel so fucking awful. im already wracked with so much guilt about not doing a good job and feeling guilty for being so depressed. im trying extremely hard to fend off those kinds of feelings towards myself but the longer the morning goes on im just getting more creeping dread and feel like i’m gunna have another breakdown. my last one was only last week. my girlfriend has to deal with it all because we’re trying to move out together and she’s one of the only people i can really talk to. i cant express this to my parents.

I’m so emotionally exhausted, tired, haven’t really been eating when i should. i feel isolated and ive been trying to focus on myself to do things with friends but if i go out too much i feel guilty. i feel fucking trapped and i want to leave so bad, but i cant until me and my girlfriend are able to finalize our plans to move.

It sounds so awful to say this but for my grandma’s sake I hope she passes peacefully soon. She hates living like this, she tells me that she doesn’t know why god has kept her here and given her all of these ailments that she’s suffering from. She simultaneously feels smothered by her kids and like she’s a burden to all of us. And as much as I don’t want her to die, I don’t want her to have to live like this anymore, and it’s hard for me to live like this seeing her suffer.

Frankly I do not know what to do and I have been too tired to interact with people. I just feel really hollow in an extremely complex way right now. I feel like I’m tangled up in knots that I can’t undo.

[pinkaroma]

The Silent Years

Most people don't have recollection of the first 5 years of their life. A friend once told me his earliest memory of his childhood was around 6 years old. Unlike me, I remember many memories of my childhood before the age of 5.

My mom met my dad at the age of 18. She had a strong desire to leave home and start her life as an adult in the real world. But my grandmother had strong traditional beliefs that a woman should not leave the family home until she is married. This prevented my mother from going off to college with a full ride scholarship she worked hard to receive. She turned it down in respect of my grandmother's wishes and to avoid her own mother from ending all contact with her for a possible few years as my grandma once did so with my eldest uncle. (He married the woman of his choice and she didn't like my aunt one bit. My uncle went against her wishes and moved away to marry her, thus causing a fall out, and in the end result she did not speak to him once for another 6 years).

To my mom, marrying my dad was her one way ticket out of the house. At first my mother didn't love him. It took her a few months to fall in love with the man she married. Almost similar to how arranged couples take a while to fall in love together. And to my dad, marrying my mother was his only way to get a green card as he was a Canadian citizen.

My mom was on the patch. (A form of birth control). Of course she was sexually active with my father. She went to live in Canada for about a year with my dad as she wanted to meet his side of the family. It was there that I was conceived. I was a literal "whoops". Despite being incredibly responsible with changing her patches on time, I was still an outcome. My father was livid, because he didn't want children until later in his life. (Even though he was literally 10 years older than my mother.) He was so mad. He pushed my mom down the stairs of his parent's home when he found out. But my grandmother intervened to defend my mother, and she cursed my dad out in Vietnamese, my mother didn't know what she said to him, but she knew it was enough to put him to shame. At first, he didn't want me. But his family was so happy about the news of me being a girl as all the grandchildren they gave my paternal grandmother were all boys, I'm guessing it was the only reason why he didn't object afterward. I'm the only granddaughter for my paternal side of the family. My mother was emotional, I mean it was her first pregnancy, who wouldn't be? She decided she wanted to have me in the states back in her home town because she wanted to look to her own mother for comfort, advice, and other topics. My grandma was the main reason why she wanted to move back and have me there instead.

In November of 2003, I was born.

I can say for a fact I don't remember much for the first 3 years of my life. I have blob-like memories of that timeline. Like going on trail walks with my parents, family members, my cousins, smells, my old daycare, and faint memories of playing in the plazas of Mexico, my grandmother's house in Mexico. Burning my hand on a iron because I was curious, scraping both my knees on the same day, one knee in the morning, the other shortly after. My neighbor friend. My first family dog. Just small memories of different things.

But the vivid memories I have are of my closet's darkness, the tears streaming down my mother's face, my dog's dead body lying on the face of the backyard concrete, the broken glass girl's tea set I had been gifted from my mother, the bright blue and red lights outside my home window, and the sound of my father's vociferate voice when he was angered.

My father, as you've already noticed, had anger issues. He still does now, but he hasn't done anything similarly close to what I remembered since he was forced into state mandatory anger therapy.

I remember how easily upset my father got when I was a child. It was like walking on egg shells around him. Anything could piss the man off. He was so mad once that he broke one of the plates of this beautiful glass porcelain tea set my mother got me. My mom and I were playing together because I asked her to play tea party with me. We put the set in dirty dish sink because I used actual desserts on it, and used water to pretend I was drinking tea. I don't remember what he was mad about but I saw him raise the plate and bang it on the marble counter causing it to break.

Not once did he ever touch a single hair on my head. It was only my mother he took his anger out on, I have memories of him beating her. He expected her to do everything herself, and even maintain an image. He wouldn't give her money either. He was so frugal, a literal cheap ass, he forced her to give him the receipts of the things she bought at stores. It was so bad, we barely had furniture in our house, I didn't even have my own bed until the age of either two or three. My mother would hide money she received from family members to buy everything we needed. I also remember I had a tiny time gap away from my parents from when I was around 2 years old. I don't remember the reason why, but I remember living in my grandmother's house for a few months in Mexico until my mom came back for me. I remember clearly how verbally abusive my dad was. And at times, I was there to witness both my parents physically fight. The scarring, the bruising. I was so scared that most times I went up to my room to hide in my closet and I'd just cry in there alone as I heard the furniture downstairs knock over, the tumbling, yelling, and the sounds of my mother in distress. Although I don't remember the call, my mom told me in one of the fights my parents was in, I took the house phone and dialed 911 for help. I do remember the police showing up and instead of accepting the help the two cops offered, she instead refused them and said everything was fine. And my parents were both silent for the rest of that night. My mother never said anything or asked for help from anyone. She had always kept silent. My mom told me that while she was married to my dad, all she wanted was to die, but she always thought of me and my brother first.

After the aftermath of one fight, there was broken glass on the floor that no one realized was there because it was clear, that I ended up stepping on it, and to this day I still have a small yet healed scar on the bottom of my right foot.

And while pregnant with my brother, she discovered my dad cheated on her with his co-workers multiple times. My step-mother in the near future also happened to be one of these co-workers. And it was thanks to him that my mother contracted an STD. (If you ask me which STD, I truly don't remember, I'd have to ask her again.)

There was also another time, in which my mother purposely got a job at a small grocery store just to earn money to support me, my baby brother who was recently born, and our dog and used it as a perfectly good excuse to stay away from my father. I remember while she was gone at work, my dad was so mad at our shih tzu, his name was Gizmo, named after one of the Gremlins from the movie. He had peed and chewed up the TV chords and my dad was so mad I remember he grabbed Gizmo from the back of the neck and walked to the backyard door, opened it, and threw my dog across the yard as if he was a football and I saw him fly, his back hit the tall wooden fence, and then I saw him fall to the concrete floor. Our backyard wasn't a normal backyard with grass but rather an entire area of just concrete. Soon after, he called my mom saying he messed up. She got off work early worried that he might've hurt me or my brother, and when she walked in, I had told her what happened and we both rushed to the backyard to see poor Gizmo on the ground in a pool of his blood. She rushed him to the emergency vet, apparently he didn't make it that night. She was so sad and felt so bad about it that she had to lie to me telling me he was in the puppy hospital getting better. Within the next 2 weeks, she bought another Shih Tzu with the same colors, but the spots were in different areas, and named it Gizmo. (I noticed the spots were different but I didn't think much of it. I was clueless.) She lied to me saying it was the same dog because she didn't want me to know our actual Gizmo passed away. The amount of blood I saw on the original Gizmo was so traumatizing, that when I saw Gizmo #2 walk past me, I had thought I saw blood on his back and even said "Mommy, Gizmo's bleeding." And there was nothing on his back, but I swore I saw it. I don't know if my mom remembers when I told her that.

At some point, it was finally too much for my mom and when I was around 4 and a half years old, she divorced my dad. From that point on, I had two different birthdays and two of each holiday.