#my grandma had a stroke and it was real bad

[boyhooters]

I think it is so interesting that, time and time again, worsening economic conditions result in a radicalized left youth. Growing up in dire conditions inspires them to do better.

I'm not saying it's good we have to live like this, I'm saying those who have put such oppressive systems in place NEVER fucking learn their lessons.

[artdcnaldson]

UGH ok twist my arm i guess!!!! as a little treat!!!! dr donaldson <3

so gynecologist art, yall, doctor donaldson. cat and i were in the dms TRUST. so art decides that he should probably have a backup plan, just in case tennis doesnt work out after college. he doesnt expect to actually need it because his tennis is going great, hes on track to go pro very soon. but JUST in case, he decides to use his good grades to study some kind of medicine. initially he had thought some kind of sports medicine, if nothing else then it would be good knowledge for himself down the line.

but after his grandma passes (not of a stroke) and he hears his family discussing how if only her gynecologist had paid better attention and taken her serious she might have lived longer (idk anything about medicine but probably some kind of cancer yknow?). anyway he sees that a his motivation and picks gynecology as his field. patrick absolutely teases him to death over it, "you're gonna be a pussy doctor? what so you just get to look at naked chicks all day? i'd quit tennis for that too". again he's not really expecting to need it, so he doesnt take it too hard. but he's kind of obviously the only guy in the course, and the girls all think he's kind of weird for wanting to pursue a field of medicine that isnt relevant to him. but after him telling the story about his grandmother they all coo and comfort him that its okey and they understand.

he does well in all his classes because he does truly find it interesting and wants to do his best to help women. but as he's getting ready to go pro, he has an accident on the court, as he's going to return a long ball he twists his ankle and takes a bad fall. his recovery is good, but his ankle will never be as it was before, and his chances of the big tennis dream slowly dies. and ultimately he's just unwilling to spend his life as a struggling tennis player, when he could be making a real difference.

now that he has his own practice he likes to tell that story to his new patients, especially the ones who seem tense with the fact that he's a man, who will be examining their most private area. it does well to ease their minds. hes been doing this for many years now, he enjoys the work, and the women who come to him are happy with his work. his patients are typically slightly older women, as they're not as phased by a male gynecologist, whereas most younger women arent as comfortable with the idea. he doesnt mind that, in fact he understands perfectly. honestly hes grateful for it, he fears the day he might have a patient whos just a bit too attractive and he'll have to struggle to keep his cool.

that day unfortunately comes sooner than he had hoped. its your first appointment with him after having him recommended by a friend, you had contacted him and told him how you were very unhappy with your current doctor and wanted to try something else. not having had a male doctor before, except like your dentist, youre very nervous for the appointment. not knowing what to expect from it, or how seriously he will take your issues. out of nervous habit youve gotten ready for the appointment as if it were a date rather than a clinical exam. showered, shaved, cute panties, hair and makeup done. its all totally unnecessary, but the moment you see him for the first time you thank the divine for looking your absolute best. GOD hes so hot. far too hot to be a doctor. lets just say that he wears scrubs because theyre so sexy, and they truly are criminally flattering on him. he sits on his chair, typing away as youre lead into the room by an assistant. as soon as he looks up and asks you to have a seat with him, you both know youre screwed. the tension is immediately noticeable as you discuss your reason for coming in, just a routine check because your last doctor wouldnt do it thorough enough and didnt listen enough to your issues.

he leaves the room while you strip off and leave your clothes in a neat little pile, panties clearly on top in the hope that he'll see them and think theyre cute. and he does, in fact his eyes keep fluttering to them as hes getting ready for the exam. he has to adjust his chair a little lower in the hopes that you cant see that he's getting hard. meanwhile youre going from soaking to sopping wet as you watch him put on the latex gloves, snapping them against his wrist.

he can tell that you're tense, but as its your first appointment with a male gynecologist, he assumes thats the reason, and not the fact that youre mortifyingly wet. he tries to calm your nerves by telling you what he'll be doing, he sits right in front of you on his chair and tells you how first he'll examine externally, just checking for anything irregular. then an internal exam with the same purpose, and then finally a physical exam where he will just have to feel your tummy as well as your pelvis to ensure everything is as it should be. totally routine stuff, nothing out of the ordinary, if anything hes far more attentive and careful to make sure youre comfortable. but the way hes saying it, his voice and the way he's looking at you has you clenching your thighs shut and trying to keep yourself from making a puddle on the table.

as he gathers his tools he asks you to place your legs in the stirrups, he sees you struggling a little to get your right leg properly in place, he gently grabs your leg and helps you place it properly. goosebumps cover you leg as he pulls his hand away again. you can feel how wet you are as youre not totally exposed to him, dripping wet, youve been less wet when hooking up with people. this is just from interacting with him briefly, really its embarrassing. hes so sweet asking if everythings alright, and if he can do anything to help you relax. and after squeezing your eyes shut and holding your breath for a second you finally get out that you just feel like youre really wet, and youre not youre not sure why, this doesnt usually happen. hes so sweet, trying to reassure you, telling you its perfectly normal. its a natural response from your body, if anything its a sign that youre healthy!

hes not lying, he really does mean what hes saying, it is good and it is normal. but hes never seen anyone be quite this wet during an appointment in his office. youre soaked, its practically dripping onto the table and forming a puddle. if he was sporting a semi under the table he might have referred you to a different doctor. but youre so pretty he cant help himself.

he really does try his best to stay professional and not let his attraction crack through and distract from his work. but fuck youre so tight around his latex covered fingers when hes doing the exam. and you only squeeze down tighter when he tries to reassure you, tell you youre doing good. its making it hard for him to focus on the task at hand. it takes everything in him to keep his hands from drifting and moving to find those sweet spots inside of you. he doesnt have to deprive himself for long tho as he accidentally brushed against your gspot. his cheeks turn bright pink as he hears a tiny moan escape your lips. and youd been so good at keeping them in the whole time too. but this one couldnt be contained. he stays good, doesnt say anything, just carries on with his work. but he almost lets out a moan of his own as he sees the ring of cream gathered around his gloved fingers.

he takes his work very seriously and he doesnt take the idea of losing his medical license due to malpractice lightly, so he wouldnt be just giving in to his urges. his resolve breaking doent come lightly, its a big deal to him. he goes home that day and jerks off in the shower while thinking about you, he knows exactly what your pussy looks like, what it feels like, how soaking wet you got for him. he cums again in his bed and humps his mattress while dreaming about you. he wakes up and decided he needs to see you again. asks his assistant to set up another appointment with you. when he asks what for, he stutters and says something about needing to do some tests just to be sure of something. hes lying, obviously, but he needs to see you again. he cant stop thinking about your tight little cunt...

-🐞

ladybug your mind amazes me... <3

He can't risk medical malpractice, and he really is a good doctor, he loves his work, he wants to help people. And he's really never, ever reacted this way to a patient before, but god, he can't get you out of his mind.

So maybe he schedules a follow up for a week later. Maybe his heart is racing and his palms sweat when he walks into the examination room and sees you in the little fabric gown, hands in your lap, worrying your lip between your teeth.

He feels like a nervous teenager on a first date, not a fucking healthcare professional.

He listens to you speak about your concerns, walks through your test results from the week prior. Everything looks good, he says. Nothing felt abnormal, your body is working just how it's supposed to. Do you have any questions for me?

You shake your head, sweet and shy, aching for an excuse to get his hands on you again, but running low on things you can ask for.

[artstennisracket]

Artrick hurt/comfort? I think I need art being comforted by Patrick about something so bad

this was soooo cute, I feel like Patrick would 100% be amazing at comforting Art

cw: fluff

Art never really cried often. There were exactly two times that Patrick had ever seen Art cry, once when he took a tennis ball straight to the dick during practice (it was very painful) and second when his grandma ended up in the hospital. She was still kicking but the thought of losing her struck Art to his core.

One thing Art never really cried about was tennis. He had been doing it for so long that he’s accepted that losses just come with playing the game, no one ever always wins. However, this particular match was the tipping point.

Art had been having such a shitty week. His girlfriend, Stacy, had broken up with him. She felt like he prioritized tennis (shocker they go to tennis boarding school) and Patrick, over spending time with her. Whatever. He also wasn’t doing too hot in his history class. He usually aces everything but his mind had been really cloudy the past few days, his game has been off, and so had his school work.

Now come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Patrick since last night so who even knows what he’s been up to. Overall Art was just feeling pretty down and upset so he knew he wouldn’t be on his A-game for Florida Regional Boys Final that day. This was the one year he had a real shot since him and Patrick didn’t end up versing each other in any of the qualifiers, so once Patrick lost, Art realized there was no other competitor he was worried about.

Unfortunately it was just bad timing. It was down to last set and the odds were not in his favor. He had missed too many shots and lost the final. He felt like he wanted to cry right there on the court, but he held it in until he got back to his room. There, Patrick was already waiting with open arms.

“hey it’s okay babe, you’ll get ‘em next year.” Patrick says soothingly as he takes Art into a giant bear hug.

That was enough to let the flood gates open and now Art is full on sobbing in Patrick’s arms. Patrick takes Art’s hat off and strokes his hair, his other hand moving up and down Art’s back hoping to calm him down.

“it was just a bad match is all, that happens sometimes.” Patrick says softly.

Art shakes his head no, inadvertently nuzzling into Patrick’s chest, “no i’m such a fucking idiot. i should’ve trained harder, i should’ve been better, but i’m just a fucking loser.”

Patrick pull away to look Art in the eyes. “no none of that, you’re not a loser. what loser ends up in regional finals to begin with? how many people did you have to beat to get there? and you are definitely not an idiot you get way better grades than me, if ur an idiot what does that make me?” Patrick says in all seriousness.

Art sniffles looking down, breaking their eye contact, “doesn’t matter, i lost the game that mattered.”

Patrick puts his hand under Art’s chin, forcing Art to look up at him. “but they all matter don’t they? that’s the only way to get to the final. my point is art you are an amazing tennis player, if not this year then i’m sure you’ll win next year. you did really well, i’m so proud of you babe.” Patrick responds.

Art’s sniffles start to subside and Patrick wipes the fallen tears on Art’s cheeks. “can you take a deep breath for me?” Patrick asks.

Art nods before taking a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“there we go, now how’re you feeling?” Patrick questions.

Art shrugs. He’s definitely calmed down but overall he just feels meh.

“hm well we can’t have that now can we?” Patrick smirks and before Art can register what’s happening, Patrick’s hands make their way to Art’s armpits and he starts tickling him.

Art shrieks, “patrickkkk! stopppp”, he’s laughing and trying his best to wiggle out of Patrick’s grasp.

Patrick stops, letting go of Art. “i just wanted to see you smile babe, consider it payment for my services.”

Art shakes his head, faint smile on his face “yeah yeah, whatever. now i’m just exhausted and kind of hungry too.”

Patrick nods, he thinks for a second then says “well how about I go get us something from the cafeteria or better yet i’ll order some takeout and then we can take a nap, how does that sound?”

That actually sounded really nice. Art never realized just how much Patrick takes care of him, “thank you patrick.”

Patrick shrugs, he knows he’ll always take care of Art no matter what they go through or how they change throughout their life, “you don’t have to thank me, that’s what best friends are for.”

[achaotichuman]

See the thing with Tamlin having a daughter, he's absolutely a single parent and has no clue what the fuck he's doing.

So, balancing having a newborn with also rebuilding a Court from the ground up would be one of the most mentally taxing jobs he's ever had. He's so exhausted and can barely think straight or string a sentence together, and there's no real help in Spring, because most of the servants, or nurses, or anyone that could provide any support are still wary to enter.

So, he reaches a point where he's like, 'If I keep going like this, I'm not going to survive.'

Therefore, desperate times call for desperate measures, and Tamlin goes to one source of help that might take pity on the situation, or least on his daughter Dahlia.

And goes to Day, where Andrea, former Lady of Autumn, is staying with Helion.

Cue super adorable step in grandma and grandpa Lady of Autumn and Helion.

Anyway, it would start something like this.

Rain pounded down on the Day lands. People rushed inside, desperately dragging signs and chairs into buildings. Using books, clothing, anything to shield themselves from the onslaught of water that poured and poured from the raging dark clouds above. 

Andrea drank jasmine-infused honey sweet tea. The warm liquid slipped down her throat, and soothing her body. The Day palace was warm and dry, a stark difference from the thunder and lightning cracking in the sky. A fork of brilliant white light streaked the sky, Andrea smiled, she had always loved storms. 

Her husband… not so much?

Helion huddled himself closer to Andrea when lightning followed quickly by a snap of thunder pierced the sky. The Day Lord had near a dozen blankets wrapped around himself, his head lying in Andrea’s lap. Andrea laughed as he jolted and wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pressing his face into her navel. She toyed with the braids in his hair. 

“It isn’t all that bad,” She assured him, leaning back into the soft white couch, while her eyes tipped to the balcony across from them, the glass doors sealed tightly to shelter them from the rain. 

“It is that bad,” Helion insisted, “The thunder has no right being that loud.”

Andrea laughed quietly, stroking her husband’s hair. Placing the porcelain cup down on the table beside the lounge, Andrea tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Smiling to herself at the next round of thunder, holding Helion closer, knowing he was ever so frightened of the storm outside. 

She sighed, this was nice. 

There was a rapping at the door. Looking up Andrea furrowed her brow, surely none of the servants needed them currently? After a moment’s hesitation, Helion sat up and looked at the door, then Andrea. It was Andrea who called out, “Please come in!”

A short female with wild brown curls, red eyes and fluttering wings entered. She bowed low, then straightened, “Your Majesties, there is a visitor requesting your presence.”

Andrea put a hand on Helion’s. Her brown eyes turned to his, though she found no answer, his face was as confused as her own. Helion took in a breath, “Where are they as of now?”

“Still at the entrance, my Lord, the guards have not let him through.” She replied. 

There was a moment of silence as Helion and Andrea assessed each other. Helion raised an eyebrow, Andrea shrugged ever so slightly. They weren’t in the middle of anything, the slight quirk of her lips told Helion she was just a little bored and this could be some form of entertainment.

“Alright, we’ll head down, thank you.” Andrea told the female. 

She again bowed low, then quickly fled the room, flittering off to wherever she was required. 

Andrea and Helion fixed themselves and quickly headed down for the Day Court palace entrance. Whispering to each other, “Who could be visiting so late?” “Perhaps a courtier, or emissary?”

They reached the tall golden doors, the two guards stationed there shared a glance. When Helion lifted his hand, they nodded, the doors flew upon. 

Immediately there was an onslaught of cold wind, it rushed through the threshold and splattered water across the polished tiles. Hail had begun, the small balls of ice rained down from the sky, smashing against the flooring. 

Andrea had closed her eyes and put her hands out in front of her as she adjusted to the sudden cold. Then she looked up to see the person standing at the entrance. 

Her jaw fell open. Looking at Helion his face had gone white. 

Tamlin was shivering in the cold, his whole body quivering. His eyes were dull and his skin was near grey. His lips were blue and frost-bitten. Instead of the normal greens and whites he wore a heavy black coat with a hood that had fallen off. His hair was a wild mess of knots and tangles. 

And in his arms was a tiny babe, so small she couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. She had tiny golden curls and pale skin, mostly wrapped in linens, her face was red, she was crying and screaming in his arms. 

Tamlin met Helion’s eyes, then turned to Andrea’s. Looking back at the High lord, he half-sobbed, “I had nowhere else to go.”

He stumbled like at any moment he might collapse. Snapping out of the daze they had been shocked into, Andrea made the first move. Like him or not, he had a child in his arms. She quickly approached the male and gently took the small girl from his arms, hushing and cooing as she did in an attempt to console her. 

As soon as the babe was safe in another’s arms. Tamlin collapsed to the floor. Helion then rushed to the younger High lord, shouting orders for a room to be made up and dry clothes to be brought out. Andrea rocked the crying girl as Helion picked up Tamlin. 

The doors were shut and the storm was locked outside. Helion and Andrea exchanged a look. Then the Lady of Day looked at the babe in her arms. 

Green eyes glistened up at her. Andrea stood there in pure shock. She looked like a tiny version of Tamlin. She screamed and Andrea watched as tiny claws pricked out of her fingertips. 

“Thats…” Helion trailed off. 

“The future Heir of Spring.” Andrea finished, her voice filled with wonderment, “Tamlin’s daughter.”

Tamlin himself shivered and gasped in Helion’s arms. The older High lord gritted his teeth. Her eyes didn’t deceive her, Andrea saw Helion bring the younger male closer to his chest. 

“What do we do?” Andrea asked. 

“We do what’s right.” Was all Helion said, then a group of servants came out. 

The oldest among them said, “We have prepared a room for the guest.”

Helion nodded, he then said, “Tamlin and his daughter will stay with us until further notice.”

Looking back down at the baby in her arms, Andrea bit her bottom lip. 

“Why were they out in the storm?”

Helion shook his head slowly, “I don’t know.”

[ironborealis]

Lineage Cousins AU pt. 3

aka Missed Connections on AO3

Part 1 and Part 2 on Tumblr

Anakin has fixed a lot of dejarik boards before.

Well... Mom did all the soldering of the broken circuit boards because she said that the fumes were bad for growing boys, BUT it was his responsibility to take everything apart and carefully label it, test the circuits and mark the ones that Mom needed to fix, and then put it back together again when she was finished. He even tested the projectors and commands to make sure everything was in working order before Watto put it in the shop's inventory to sell.

So... He's mostly fixed a lot of dejarik boards and tested them afterwards, but he's never actually played dejarik before.

He hopes Mr. Kenobi hasn't noticed that Anakin is just making things up as he goes, figuring out how the pieces move by watching the projection stall for a split second every time he tries something that the rules don't allow.

He must have fixed a hundred, a thousand boards since he was old enough to start helping -- and the boards always sold quickly because everyone and their great grandma plays dejarik...

Everyone except Anakin and his mother... he doesn't think any of his friends on Tatooine had played either.

There's something sick growing in his belly as he thinks about it all, tears pricking at his eyes -- but he's pretty sure that Jedi don't cry, and he's a padawan now so he can't cry -- if Mr. Kenobi doesn't ruin everything by telling the Jedi Council to send him back to Tatooine.

Mr. Kenobi hums after Anakin's last move, stroking his beard and appearing to be deep in thought.

Mr. Qui-Gon had explained that Mr. Kenobi wasn't his brother-brother, like Kitster and Kassu who had the same mother, but a 'lineage brother' because the same Jedi Master had trained them both to be Knights.

Anakin thinks his Jedi grandmaster must be very old, to have taught both Mr. Qui-Gon and Mr. Kenobi.

Not that it matters, because apparently Master Dooku left the Jedi after Mr. Kenobi was knighted, so that only left his great-grandmaster Yoda... The green person with big ears on the Council who had thought he was too scared to be a Jedi.

He misses his mom.

Mr. Kenobi's foot taps the base of Anakin's chair, and Anakin realizes that Mr. Kenobi is waiting for him to play, but Anakin was so busy gathering eopie chips in his head that he'd missed Mr. Kenobi making his move.

He can feel the tips of his ears grow pink with embarrassment. Surely real Jedi don't become distracted or miss their moms and of course they all know how to play dejarik --

He reaches to move the big white monster, but Mr. Kenobi purses his lips and hums.

"That's an interesting choice -- I would have used the Grimtash's -- the gray one -- special attack," Mr. Kenobi keeps his eyes on the board.

"...Why?"

Anakin uses his best sabacc face, like he's only interested in Mr. Kenobi's strategy and not desperately trying to figure out how to win a game he doesn't know how to play.

"It's special attack is powerful enough to defeat my Ghhhk, which you've been abusing," Mr. Kenobi points out the dark green creature on his side of the board.

Anakin debates for a moment whether or not to take Mr. Kenobi's advice. If they were on Tatooine, it'd be a given that Mr. Kenobi was trying to trick him -- but they're not on Tatooine and besides he's pretty sure Jedi aren't allowed to lie unless it's really important.

He makes the move that Mr. Kenobi suggests and watches as his piece battles and destroys Mr. Kenobi's.

They continue to play, with Mr. Kenobi occasionally talking about what his strategy would be. He thinks Mr. Kenobi must be a horrible sabacc player, with all his obvious facial tells and the way he literally just tells you what he's going to do.

Maybe that's why Padmé's handmaidens like playing with him every night -- he's such an easy mark they must have taken every single credit he has by now.

Anakin doesn't always do what Mr. Kenobi would do, but he starts feeling more confident about how the game works and most importantly, how to win.

Soon, it's just Anakin's Grimtash against Mr. Kenobi's K'lor'slug (the purple one), and then it's over and...

Anakin won. He won! He didn't even know the rules and he won anyway, AND he beat a Jedi who's probably been playing dejarik since he was in diapers --

"Good game, Anakin." Mr. Kenobi holds his hand out over the board for Anakin to shake. His tone is jovial, like he hasn't just lost, and he's got that same amused glimmer in his eye like he did when Anakin tried bowing to him like a proper Jedi.

The sick feeling is back in his stomach.

"You let me win, didn't you?"

Mr. Kenobi's expression falters for a second, before becoming even faker than before.

"No, I didn't --"

"Jedi aren't supposed to lie!" Anakin jumps out of his seat, his heart pounding in his ears. "Did you think it was funny? It's not my fault that I don't know the rules! Dejarik is a stupid game anyway!"

Mr. Kenobi's face goes unnaturally calm, and Anakin knows now that Mr. Kenobi has a sabacc face that could rival some of the best on Tatooine -- and he hates it. He hates being made into fool by someone who's supposed to be deciding whether Anakin is good enough to even be a Jedi, it's not FAIR!

"What's going on?"

Mr. Qui-Gon appears, coming out of their room, and glaring at Mr. Kenobi like he did something wrong.

"He let me win!"

Anakin tries to put as much weight as he can into his accusation, to convey the seriousness of the situation in a Jedi-like manner, but when he hears himself, he sounds more like Kitster's little brother Kassu whining whenever he lost at a game.

The confused look on Mr. Qui-Gon's face only confirms that he thinks Anakin is acting like a baby.

The anger, humiliation, and homesickness are all boiling away inside of him -- ready to explode at any second. Anakin can't do that here, in front of these Jedi, he's already embarrassed himself enough.

He pushes past Mr. Qui-Gon and goes into their room. He can feel electricity arcing underneath his skin, forcing him to pace the room to burn off some of the energy before he does something un-Jedi-like.

He can hear Mr. Qui-Gon and Mr. Kenobi talking outside, their voices growing louder until he can clearly hear some of what they're saying.

"...won't hold it against him..."

"Well... pretty hypocritical of me... didn't you tell me..."

"Knight Kenobi why can't... in the moment."

Anakin climbs the ladder into his bunk, trying to get away from something he knows that he definitely doesn't want to be hearing. Even the walls back home were thicker than this.

"Tell me... dangerous, they all sense... what changed?"

Anakin pulls his pillow over his head and screams to drown out the noise around him and inside of him.

[hotchocolateandpillowforts]

It's been a few days so I guess I'm in the mental headspace where I can talk about IRL stuff for a second. (I ended up breaking up the paragraphs a lot because I can fucking rant y'all.)

I had a pretty rough doctor's appointment on Wednesday morning. I told my neurologist about a few new symptoms I've developed since I've seen her last. (Pulsatile tinnitus that's especially bad at night when I'm laying in bed, numbness in my hand when I wake up in the morning and at some random points throughout the day, and, it's not new but it's worse, the tinnitus I experience pretty much 24/7 is getting worse.)

She asked a few questions and said I probably have carpal tunnel because of my job plus doing schoolwork after my 40 hours a week job. We're going with a brace at night for now to see if it helps. If it doesn't I get to do an invasive test that includes getting a shock in order to stimulate the nerve AND a needle pressed into the nerve. Fuck that shit.

She also said that she wants to do a Magnetic Resonance Angiogram in order to "rule out any possible aneurysm" which is just amazing to hear as someone who has a brain disorder and has an uncle who had a stroke less than a year ago. But apparently hearing your pulse in your ears is bad and is usually caused by aneurysms or cardio vascular issues of some kind. The soonest we were able to schedule the MRA is this Friday in the morning.

But that wasn't the end of my horrible day. A couple of hours later I got a text from my brother telling me to call him. I did so and he told me one of our other uncles had died. It was sudden and out of nowhere so it was a real shock. The ME thinks it was probably a heart attack but we won't get the official cause of death for another week or something like that.

So that day was just a garbage fire day. And my week continued to get worse (somehow) with my cousins and grandma getting into fights about doing a service. I guess the cousins don't want to do one but my grandmother wants one. (And this is the second child she's burying in her lifetime so maybe give that woman whatever the fuck she wants.) And no one could give me any dates to tell my employer so I can take bereavement. Then my husband and my brother got into a fight because my stress and anxiety and grief have been so fucking hard to handle and all I wanted was a fucking date so I could have a plan. I think I just wanted to be doing something other than going to work and being sad and being anxious about my health stuff. And if I had a date then I could tell my boss and make plans and feel like I'm making progress.

I've said it before and I'll say it again (and probably again and again) this is a shitty fucking year and it can go straight to hell. I fucking hate this year. I'm going to get ready for bed now, work 4 days in a row (while also keeping up with school work and my workout routine and my reading habits because how else am I going to get through this week), get up early on Friday for an MRA, drive up to Oklahoma and spend four days with my wretched family.

[maerenee930]

this doesn’t feel real… 😣 it’s been about 5 days and it still keeps hitting me over and over again that my papa is gone. 😞 i can’t believe he’s really gone 😓

my head is all over the place and just- it still feels so wrong. 😔

i wasn’t really close with him. not many of us were to be honest. it was hard to bond with him for many reasons. but over the past year, i had spent more time with him and my nonnie (my grandma. that’s what we call her on my mom’s side cause we’re italian) and got a bit closer to both of them.

(i realize this is a very long post and i’m so sorry it is. i don’t mean for it to be. there’s just a lot of thoughts and feelings i’ve had about this and would like to get them out on here as well. also, i’m very sorry for any spelling and grammar errors. and i’m sorry if all of this is like all over the place or of it doesn’t make much sense.)

my mom would tell me that over the past year and a half, he always asked about me when she would visit him and my nonnie. which ngl, really surprised me 😅 i mean for the longest time, he didn’t really care for most of his grandkids once we started talking and forming our own opinions. i wish i was joking about that.

i mean don’t get me wrong, he did love us, but he only really liked us when we were small. 😅 it was like once we got older, he just didn’t care for us as much. unless you kinda put him in his place, he didn’t really care if you were there or not. or he would make comments about some of us gaining weight, telling us we’re getting fat and we need to start exercising more and lots of other unkind and not okay things to say to his grandchildren or his daughters or son. yeaaaah… he was pretty good at making his family feel bad about themselves… 😣

he like anyone, was a very flawed human being. but he was also just that, a human being. he had a lot of mental health issues that he wasn’t willing to admit, acknowledge/address or face. and those issues caused a lot of pain and heartache for him and the people he cared about. but for being raised in a time when that wasn’t even anything that was somewhat taken seriously, it doesn’t come as a total surprise that he wouldn’t take care of those issues for himself.

and when i stop and really think about it, even though this man loved to throw himself a good pity party and loved to wallow in his own pain and grief and as we joked was “always dying” (he was a very dramatic man lol) and while he also very much had the mentality that he was better than everyone, he really could be a good guy and had some legitimate reasons to wallow in self pity at times.

he was just a child during world war two. thankfully his family did survived it. but he also had a very abusive father.

he came to america from their home in italy twice and made a life for himself and my nonnie. leaving his family and the one place that was truly his home.

he suffered multiple work injuries over the years and one of them resulted in him actually losing all of his fingers on his left hand expect for his thumb 😣

he had multiple strokes over the past decade. one of which was one of the worst kinds someone could have and thankfully came out from it so much better than he could have.

and there were many other things that happened throughout his life and i only know very few of those things.

but the fact that he survived through all of the things he did, it just- it shows that he had so much strength and i do admire him for that.

and now as an adult, i can understand a bit better why he did wallow in self pity as much as he did. (i’m not saying it’s right that he did or that he let it consume him and stop him from having good and long last relationships with his children and grandchildren, because it wasn’t. i just can understand a little better as to why he would do it. and how those things helped shape him into the person he became, you know?)

my papa would tend to tell us grandchildren the same few stories when we were growing up. most of the time the moral of those stories was that we are lucky and spoiled children and that he had it so much worse than we did/do or ever could have. so you know, that was always fun to hear and felt great 🙃🤦‍♀️

and man oh man, did he love to talk about himself ��� i mean this man really, really loved himself a lot lol. he loved to talk about how wonderful he was not only in general but so many things lol.

one of his favorite stories was one where he had a very rude boss who was a jerk and just an ass. and to quote my papa this guys was “the big boss”. well, one day my papa stood up to him and would giggle every time he said this or got to this part of the story and he said in his italian accent “and imma tella hims to go fucka himself” 😂 and after that, his boss respected him. he would tell us that he thought his boss was gonna fire him but he didn’t cause he knew he (my papa) was right. (that’s legit how he would tell it 😂)

it was so funny to see him giggle and just the fact that that was something that was so just like big to him and just so unbelievable that he would do something like that 😄

but to a lot of us, it sounded about right. and it made sense that he would say that to one of his bosses. it was just very papa.

one story that my nonnie always loved telling me about something i did cause of my papa when i was small was i used to sit on the top of the couch in the living room. idk why i did, but i did.

so anyway, one day i did it and papa told me i needed to get down or i could hurt myself. no i’m sorry, it wasn’t just because i would hurt myself, it was because i could’ve possibly broken his picture window and gotten hurt from it.

so me being my normal stubborn and sassy self, i argued with him and told him i would be fine and i wouldn’t fall back. i told him i’m not gonna get hurt and or break the window.

he told me i would and i needed to get down. so finally at some point i did. and i went to my nonnie all upset and mad. she asked me what was wrong and i very dramatically told her that papa was ruining my life 😂🤦‍♀️😂

it’s one memory i will never forget and am very thankful to have a silly and stupid moment like that with him.

i didn’t really have a lot of good moments with him. at some point i learned to keep my distance from him.

i would say hello to him and goodbye and didn’t really talk to him or with him unless he asked me something, told me to do something or if someone asked me to tell him something.

i just- knowing what most of my family had been through with him and the pain and heartache he caused them, and not really having the kind of grandpa us grandkids deserved or needed, it was hard to want to be around him.

it really sucks to have mixed feelings about someone you love.

someone who you were supposed to adore and look up to. but who just wasn’t the kind of grandparent we needed. i realize he was also just a human and wasn’t perfect and had a very hard life and made mistakes just like anyone else. but letting things throughout his life get to him the way they did caused him to do and say some very hurtful things to the other people that i love so much and who have been there for me and loved me and supported me in ways he really didn’t. 😞

how can i have mixed feelings about the person who helped bring my mom into the world? 😣

how can i have mixed feelings about the person who helped give me the family i have and wouldn’t trade for the world…? 😓

how or why could i not move past my issues and just push and push and try to make us have a better relationship?

why couldn’t i just push through my anxiety and heartache and just go see him and spend time with him when i had the chance to? to show him that i do love him and he does mean a lot to me. to be there for him when he needed all of us and i wasn’t. 😣

how could i not go see my papa one last time and tell him i love him. he deserved to know and hear that.

i should’ve told him that 😞

i’m so sorry i didn’t, papa. i do love you so much and i am so glad you aren’t in pain anymore. i’m so glad you finally get to be home with your mom and dad and the rest of your family.

i’m so glad that you get to just relax and rest. you fought and worked hard for so long and for so much of your life.

i’m very thankful i got to have you as my papa. i didn’t expect losing you would hurt quite as much as it does. but i have to say that i am thankful it does it hurt so much. it’s a nice reminder that i do and will always love you because you were my papa.

thank you for being my papa. thank you for ruining my life 😉

i miss you more than you know 💖

[petcemetaryskin]

it's midnight

Get to know me (part 1)

I have been in and out of foster homes for my whole life.

My life is divided into several sections. During my first eight years, I was obsessed with Monster High, as I was alone very often. I would go to my best friend's house to play Monster High. When my cousins visited, we would play Monster High and watch the movies. We went to my family's cottage and my family's cabin in the woods on the lake. When I was eight, my family celebrated Christmas for the last time. My mom yelled at me about how Santa isn't real.

My mom and I had to move out of my grandma's house because my mom hit her and lied about me hi__ing her. That's when I started being alone. I was alone all of the time, and that's when I started hyperfixiating on things. Descendants. I loved Mal, and therefore loved Dove Cameron (still do). Her boss's daughter and granddaughters stared babysitting me. Being with her granddaughters made me so happy. They were like sisters to me. We played the game of life together. My babysitter had a boyfriend who was very tease-y.

Also, I started going to school at Woodland Elementary. It was hard at first. During lunch, I hid in the closet's where we put our backpacks because I didn't have any friends. Later, I made friends with the "popular girls." They were fun. The next year, I wasn't in a class with them. There was no room to sit with them at lunch. My only friend for a while was a boy that I didn't really know. Also, I was living in a different house. My mom would just walk up behind me and strangle me. I started always feeling like there was someone behind me. I got some best friends. I had my first obsessive crush. I started being really depressed. My mom was chasing me around the house with a hammar. Then, an electric screw driver. I developed early (puberty at eight), and I was almost her size. I grabbed the screwdriver from her. Then, she locked herself in her bedroom and called the c_ps. Then, the c_ps came.

When I hit puberty at eight, I didn't know what was happening. My mom only told me about sex and periods before I was eight. Everything else was a mystery. I was scared of my pubic hair and dry shaved it with my mom's cheap r__ers that she used to c_t herself with. I got bullied and called a monkey (I went to an all white school. My teacher would watch me specifically when I was playing with the toys) for having body hair. I dry shaved and accidentally c_t myself a lot of times.

Then, in fifth grade, I was in a new class. The year before, my mom quit her job (years before then, she yelled at me about her boss a lot) and that was the beginning of our financial insecirty. I was always scared of not having food in the future. I didn't really eat because I was always saving food for later.

In fifth grade, I missed a week of school from having upper respiatory illness. For me, it was embarrassing, so when my teacher asked me in front of my class why I was out sick, I told her that I had strep troat. Then, she told me that that's no reason to miss school for a week. Then during libarary time, she said in front of my class that she called my doctor, and my doctor said that I never had strep throat. Later, one of my classmates asked me why I lied about being sick. It felt like there was a microscope on me. When my mom picked me up, I was crying. My mom called the school and yelled at them. The next day, my teacher said that she never said that I wasn't sick and that she loves my hair, and she asked me to make a wig for her out of my hair. Then, my mom and I moved back to my grandma's house.

UPPER ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

When I moved back, I made a lot of new friends. My mental health got really bad. It was really hard for me to be at school, and my mom pulled me out of school to do "homeschool". The year was full of her abu__ng me while I watched my grandma slowly d__ (after her stroke).

My mom drove me to our family's cabin in the woods. When we got there, my aunt went outside to talk to my uncle. I was inside with my aunt and cousins. I heard yelling outside, but I thought it was just d_unk people yelling. My aunt said, "we were thinking of having you live with us" I thought it was just a compliiment, and I said thank you. Then, my cousin took me to her sister's car and locked the door. She told me that the things that my mom was doing to me weren'tnormal and hugged me. Then, my mom knocked on the car door and told me that we're leaving. Then, I was in my mom's car, and my aunt was aggressively trying to open the door. My cousin whipped the passenger side door open and unlocked the doors. Then, my aunt whipped the door open, and tried to pull me out of the car. My uncle was d_unk and yelling at my mom about how she said that she wanted me to k_ll myself. On the car ride home, I apologized to her. Then, I found out that she posted on facebook something along the lines of "When is Breanna going to k_ll herself already?" and the only reason she deleted it was because her friend told her that it was a bad look. She didn't actually feel remorse.

For the next couple of years, she told me that I should just k_ll myself because it's never going to get better. She said exactly that to me.

For my year of middle school, I was in band class playing the tenor saxophone. At the beginning of the year, there was a straight girl who pretended to like me and started dating me because she wanted to experiment. Then, at the Halloween dance, she broke up with me in the girl's bathroom in front of our friends. Later at the dance, I started dancing with Gabe. He was really positive and curious. I was doing a lot of weird stuff back then, and he was so supportive. We were dating for a couple weeks, and he broke up with me on our two week-aversary. It made me sad, and I pined after him for six months. Then, lockdown happened. Then, I got back into BTS, and I instantly felt so mch better.

[yoori-ya]

31 and 2024 in Review

Here we are again blog, cresting the end of another year, and what a year.

I was speaking to M the other evening, and she had mentioned that while 2024 was a solid year, she felt a little complacent. I get it. I was also a bit of blob this year. I had thought 2023 had ended on a high note, but in hindsight, my triumph turned out to be nothing more than a thin cover. Despite everything I had proclaimed, 2024 started off bad. My mental health cratered to a scary low. I thought about offing myself a couple times, and once almost did. I was folding, collapsing in on myself and my friends could only do so much.

In 2024, my main objective was to heal. To pull myself up over the edge and regain my footing. I spun up a cocoon and sat in it. In stark contrast to 2023, I stayed in my comfort zone. No hysterical socializing. No extreme traveling. I spent a month on my aunt's farm navel-gazing. I attended therapy sessions that had at first, felt pointless, but I dutifully knocked them back, week after week. I didn't notice it real-time, but I did start to get better.

When was the turning point? I'm not too sure. Maybe around May or June? Spooky G and H with her thousand-eyed gaze came into our lives. I started baking sourdough bread. I started pottery. I cried when I needed to. Slept when I wanted to. I was gentle with myself. My therapy sessions had finally hit critical mass and was starting to take effect. I was ~*~healing~*~. Life was getting good again, and when I looked around, I suddenly realized the edge was growing further away.

Honestly, I had thought I'd stay in the cocoon for at least another year. Then, in September my grandma passed, and whether by fate or coincidence (or maybe it's all the same), on the same night of her passing, J ripped me out. It was disorienting. I still felt raw and mushy, and a little scared. But as the situation progressed, I caught my bearings and surprised myself with my own change and growth. I recognized immediately when I was expected to make myself small and uncomfortable for the sake of someone else's stupid, self-centered, pig-headed comfort, and I hit back hard with a nasty, six paragraph-long, "How. Fucking. Dare. You. You fucking thought."

Yes you fucking idiots. She fucking bites. Venomously. Jesus christ. These days I'm infuriated whenever people stroke me the wrong way and expect me to still purr and sidle up to them. Kid Lori will no longer be emotionally man-handled by greasy-palmed, sausage-fingered, pin-headed buffoons. If you can't be fucking gentle and respectful, it's easy: Don't. Fucking. Touch.

This year started with me buckling under so many heavy things, but I think I've been able to set a lot of it down. I'm looking forward to starting 2025 lighter, to shaping a brand new year as myself rather than this Thing that had consumed me for the last two years.

When I speak with my friends about my goals and what I want, I tell them my focus these days is less on the tangible things (not to say I don't have those too), and more on my feelings. I know how I want to feel, and how my decisions and actions should feel. "To let things breath," I've repeated. To lead with feelings sometimes when things are murky. To trust the heart rather than the head. To not always be grappling for control in confidence that I have control over myself.

You can exert too much unnecessary anxiety and tension in a quest to rationalize your emotions...the denial of your emotions tricks you into thinking you are making decisions based on the rational rather than emotions.

I also learned a couple handy things or two along the way this year, simple but key revelations that make me say to friends, "Oh my god it really is that easy, huh?" And the women/fem people all laugh and say, "Yup."

My biggest takeaway from 31/2024 was that no one can fuck with you if you understand and love yourself more than anyone else can or ever will. If anything, I've proven this to myself this year: I've got you, Kid Lori, and I love you so fucking much 🖤.

[masterkirby]

How do I even

How do I talk, how can I

How to think about my deceased Mother?

I'm terrified of not having enough memories so I don't try to dig in my head for them because they don't come to the surface naturally, instantly. I quite often dream about her, but she's just there, as part of a family situation, just talking, laughing, whatever. No indication on part of my brain that anything, anyone, is amiss.

How can I think about her?

Round features, prominent chin, piercing blue eyes, thin, wavy and frizzy hazelnut hair,

always wearing a long skirt and that type of top that grandmas and aunties here wear, bought in this or that bazarek, ryneczek.

I kept thinking recently about this leather coat she'd wear, but couldn't find it anywhere.

She's been keeping me warm all these years after her death because I'm just going through her coats.

She was a bit taller than me, I never got taller then her, even when I stopped growing.

When I'd hug her, I'd put my chin over her shoulder, so soft and warm.

Dad would buy her chanel 5 during trips abroad, when he'd fly. I have her last bottle on my shelf and sniff it from time to time.

I don't remember her voice and can't find any recordings. I want to find one so, so, so bad. Her laugh, she would be so cheerful, a sun ray (despite her sun allergy)

Although I've mostly been pondering her melancholy over the years, having moved very suddenly to a country beyond the iron curtain, to marry and live with, basically, a stranger. They'd written letters to each other, my mom and dad, before meeting each other in real life. Dad was a uni professor who fled to the United States, she was a country girl, first in her family to go to university and she studied pharmacy. Dad's father was a professor at med school and somehow got them acquainted. Mom had a way of reaching people's private lives, or hearts. I still don't know and have no way of asking now how Dad got to her heart. Recently he told me, prefacing with a "if you've ever wondered how Mom and I ended up together", that they were both deeply heartbroken at the time. But that she was good to him and he wishes he'd been better to her.

So yeah, alone in a foreign country, no knowledge of the language, and her husband turns out to be... well, now we acknowledge he's on the autism spectrum but back then it just looked like anger issues, depressive episodes and spacing out (not caring about everyday stuff).

I remember surprisingly little about her from my childhood. What did we do together?

I remember asking her why she wears diapers (when I found her sanitary pads)

and her giving out food like kabanosy (where did she get those from??) during long car trips

And going to the supermarket with her

And the Polish food store (where we'd get Kinder niespodzianka and torciki wedlowskie)

And I think the video rental was nearby

I remember going to the Badzian family with her, where they had a TV (we didn't have cable) and Tereska and she were crying when the Pope died.

Tereska tried to teach me English before I went to kindergarten but didn't manage to (I acquired it at school but still have no clue how I survived the time before I knew any English).

We would go to the pool sometimes and that's how I learned how to swim, I guess. It was an outdoor pool and she'd love to swim using the frog stroke, always a dark one suit and a beige, wide-brimmed hat. She'd complain about having to shave specifically for the pool.

She never wore make-up so that was something I learned and unlearned on my own.

She had this silly szlafrok type gown, hot pink, over her regular sleeping gown.

I probably spent a lot of time with her in the kitchen. I remember making rice krispie "cake" together and brownies. She would often make ciasto drożdżowe and I'd eat out the kruszonka, both in baked and unbaked form. We also made flubbers and I'm sure she helped me with any school science experiment I had.

There was something with creating a rainbow on the windowpane.

She would love to make us kanapki for dinner which we would make by ourselves, as in she'd prepare various ingredients and we'd make ships out of them or whatnot.

I want to make an omelette like she did someday.

Another speciality of hers were oponki and she'd make them for everyone's birthdays. And the gołąbki and eggplants with cheese and zapiekanki. Her schabowe were the best I ate.

Turns out she never really cooked before getting married so she had cooking classes, but I only know this from stories and pictures.

Zalewajka, rosół, pomidorowa z ryżem, which is interesting because her mom always makes it with noodles.

She had a small garden in the backyard but only really mint grew there from the times that I remember. But she kept a row of beautiful roses out front, just like grandma does. She loved roses best.

She was overall a very romantic and poetic soul, idealistic and dreaming. Open to people and experiences, well, mostly... She was a devout Catholic which is the reason we'd fall out when I was a teenager and young adult. It was hard hearing that pregnancies from r@pe should be carried to term... And that homosexuality is a disease and we should have compassion for those people but pray for their recovery... Yeah ...

This is always the part that makes me pause my reminiscing. As warm and hard-working and caring a person she was, I always arrive at this... confusion. That I can't help but remember her, in my heart, as somewhat cold and narrow-minded and hurtful.

I remember going to her with my problems (some school drama) and hearing that I should go to god for help. Or all our disagreements because I liked going out, partying, drinking alcohol, wearing skimpyish clothing, making out with people, and so on. When I once told her that I'm being bullied by this one girl, she responded that that girl has a tough family situation. I had hellishly low self-esteem for some reason as a kid and now sometimes as well. Always hearing to be modest and give way for others...

Or when they did a 180 on us when our trip to Poland was supposed to be a one-year sabbatical but turned into a "lifetime".

Her lack of trust in me hurt me deeply and I always couldn't help but compare it to the trust I felt from Dad (I have to ask him someday if it was illusory). And I guess I felt that lack of trust in her overprotectiveness. However horrible it sounds to complain, she'd sometimes show up at my middle school with, say, lunch, or something I forgot to take. Imagine my horror as a kid trying to fit in, in a school where people would regularly be bullied for lesser things. Or she'd try to recruit kids for her rosary circles... I cringe. It hurt to be the laughing stock of, well, at least a few classes. It was a big school.

Or she'd always volunteer to supervise trips and school balls and to go to every school year ending and beginning. I feel like crying even now for feeling... ungrateful. But it just wasn't what I needed as a growing person...

She'd once scolded me for not going to an extracurricular class and she'd never let me not go to school unless I was super sick. But she let me stay home a few days once in high school when my anxiety/depression was really kicking in.

I spent most of my middle school outside of home, if not school then roaming with friends, returning late at night. In highschool my views started forming, far from her own, and I was consumed by school life, building a social persona, dating, having (gasp) premarital sex (not that we ever talked about that). She was more and more into the church, spending all her time and worry on problems of the parish community. We grew distant.

I moved out for uni and she soon fell ill. There wasn't enough time to grow back together.

I don't know. I started therapy recently and I repeat to myself, like a mantra, a thing the therapist said:

Sadness isn't something we're born with. It always comes from somewhere.

I don't think my mom was ever a driving force for my sadness but I have been sad ever since I was a kid. What gives?

The therapist says I didn't have my emotional needs met. Maybe? But still, nothing that traumatic happened in my life until my Mom passed away so suddenly.

I wish I could talk to her about what she remembers about me as a kid. Maybe she could help provide the clues to my potential autism diagnosis. I'd want to hear more of her stories and thoughts. I'd love to hear her worries and troubles and be able to help her, as an adult in my own right. I'd love to get tips on running a household from her, cook and bake together.

I feel like I never really got to know her.

[doodlenoodleboi]

(Just a rant about my long distance lover things are but rough right now but I know it will work out in the end!) part 1 of my romance rant

These fictional characters remind me of him, I honestly had his contact as miles for a minute because that’s she he reminds me of. As I to know him more he did show more quality’s of Tsuki in the way that he tries to be nonchalant but once again he’s simply the playful type like miles but he could be the mysterious type if he ever chose to. But I promise you that pink hoodie and nervous sounding taking he had in the beginning of our relationship is far from mysterious. I thought he was just shy but English just isn’t his first language.

He has pretty tired eyes like Shinsou his hair is also similar to miles but different texture. His eyes are almond shape like most people associate with Asians because his grandma is Chinese and whatnot. We can say that he’s Blasian but he doesn’t really fit the label nor really like it so let’s just say he’s black. I feel like he fits the description even more so with all his traveling and his remarks on the UK sounds like he’s been there. My significant other at the moment is busy at the moment with his stuff and I’ve come to terms with trusting him and believing that everything will be work out in the end.

I don’t know why but I copy people I love so much like my s/o (significant other) has glasses so guess what I get glasses. My crush in middle school through high freshman year, I got not one not two but 4 skateboards because of him. (I still can’t skateboard properly, I prefer skates) which one our first “date�� was at a skating ring wayyy to loud for us. Oddly enough we’re both introverted but my s/o just adapts easier. I fixked up so bad around him I even fell making him look so much better than me but hey we both have our embarrassing moments.

My s/o one time mistook a stuffed animal at the park when we skipped school for a real bear and I was so confused but when I realized it must have been to embarrassing for him. So every time I’m embarrassed of past events and or experiences I think back to that and most of the things I’ve done weren’t that embarrassing. The man is practically blind without his glasses and decides not to wear them most of the time even though he looks so good with them on. At the same time I think I stroked his ego just a bit given he did wear his glasses more often afterwards.

I love him… 

- ✩ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧

[akuma-homura]

truthfully even with this being My Account My Blog My Personal Blog yapping about my woes just feels annoying

and it's like,,, it's not annoying when others vent about whats going on in their lives, but it's really felt like stuff just keeps happening on my end and that feels like. others would just. get tired of it? tired of me?

like, gonna be real, the scam thing actually still isn't even settled or fixed. that was from february and felt like it kickstarted the awful stress and just. sick feeling of being tricked but also feeling like we should have known. some people were nice enough to send money and stuff and that DID help us but I also feel. guilty. about that

and especially since it's still an on-going thing. dad hasn't been able to use his own bank account literally all year. i'm lucky mine is decently disconnected.

long-covid-like-stuff kicking my ass, the stress adding on top of that, all of which adding on top of existing health issues, then my brother fucking dies when he was gonna come down here and was turning his life around, and the stress and grief from THAT kicked me down AGAIN / even more

and i'd just been trying to get myself together decently enough but not. being able to as well as i would hope. for most of this year.

and then my grandma has a stroke just before my birthday and dies just after my birthday.

and even listing this all just feels. Bad? Excuses? I should just get over it all? But I can't?

Like, life isn't all horrible!! obviously!! i've had happy times!! i've still been creating to the best of my... current ability. I love my friends and my friends have been there for me.

but it's still just this. everything that has happened, is happening, just... hurts. and is a lot. and I hate it.

[seungwoonies]

Health care for the elderly is so bad here, my grandma had 3 strokes in 4 days, is now paralyzed in half her body. Literally cannot do anything without assistance, sometimes requiring multiple people to help her to her chair or even eat.

and the authorities take more than a week to find a care home for her. What if she didn’t have family to care for her like we do every second of the day and night? (We can only do this because it’s summer break and don’t have to work out otherwise fulltime jobs)

the care home is on another damn island, which makes visiting real difficult and to make things worse we have to wait until Thursday to get her admitted into the care home. If we reject this offer, they will throw her off the emergency waitlist.

they (the authorities) wait and see and claim to look for solutions but they don’t to anything. We can’t keep this up, everyone is drained emotionally and physically. Why aren’t the proper institutions helping? Why won’t they admit her to a care home nearby that has space (albeit only for dementia patients; if there’s no patients why not use that damn spot for someone who desperately needs it as well)

[stressfulsloth]

anon, i'm really sorry, i accidentally deleted your ask for the game thing!

answer for MC is i don't know what kind of reputation i have. at work i get told i'm really upbeat and overly positive, but that's 100000% the masking. i know in my family i have a reputation for being a rabid leftist because when my grandma was in hospital and drugged out of her mind on pain killers she told me that she knows i'm trying to destroy our country lol

and pluto- okay so i was a weird kid and there is a high likelihood that this was a dream or a story i convinced myself was real, but once when i was a kid we went to stay at this really really old hotel in lyme. i had this really weird vibe about the place, like just felt like i was being watched the whole time, and when i went to bed that night i started having freaky dreams. so i was about 12, and i was meant to sleep in the adjacent room to my parents, so totally on my own, door locked. i wake up in the night to someone sitting on the end of my bed, stroking my hair, and thinking its my mum i just go back to sleep. next morning i ask my mum what she was doing in my room, she's confused. denies it being her. it definitely wasn't my dad either, and the room was locked and on the chain. so *something* knew i was having bad dreams and tried to help, i guess. i still don't know what it was.

[rustworks]

The Brokowski Files - 10

Fahey slid out of the car at sloth speed. Brokowski smiled and nodded casually. “Detective.”

“Hey there, Detective Mauer!” blurted Fahey. “Long time no see, sir! Ha ha! You know, because we just saw you?”

“That we did,” Mauer cooly replied. “Been trying to find you. We’ve figured things out and you’re a big reason why.”

“Oh man, Detective Mauer! I can explain! My old lady lost her job and I’ve…”

The detective held out a hand. “Easy there. Let me finish.”

“Of course, Detective Mauer sir!”

“I don’t know how you do it, Brokowski.” Mauer gestured to somebody behind him. It was Officer Menchie, holding a bag of Funyuns. “That look familiar?”

Fahey laughed hard. “Those are the Funyuns you snagged! Now they’re getting wet, amigo sir!”

“You did it,” Menchie said. “You boys did it.”

Fahey started to fidget, but Brokowski spoke first. “Do tell, bros.”

“Always playing it cool, Brokowski,” Mauer said with a laugh. “Care to weave your tale?”

Brokowski shrugged. You should. Sound it out for us.”

Mauer smirked. “I’ve got to hand it to them. Smuggling cocaine in bags of Funyuns. Their inside men sticking them behind the normal bags. But you two still found them.”

“We did?” Fahey screwed up his face. Brokowski elbowed him.

“Not the time to be modest, boys. You sniffed out the Riaz Crime Ring. Paying their head honcho a visit really spooked them. And then your master stroke, Brokowski…”

Brokowski grinned and shrugged modestly, so Mauer continued. “Mr. Incognito, is it now?” He chuckled. “Your little ‘anonymous’ call to Mueller’s show? Calling out Riaz publicly? That was the death blow. You could have just come to me, but that ain’t your style is it? Always got to add the Brokowski sizzle!”

“What’s he…ow!” Fahey hopped, clutching the foot Brokowski’d just stomped on.

“You rattled Perlman too, during your little confrontation with him.” Mauer pointed at a nearby squad. Perlman was scowling at them from the back seat. “His thugs holding up QuikMarts to find the drugs first? Bold move to take on the Riaz Family, but crime doesn’t pay for either of them when Brokowski’s on the case!”

“I just like clean streets,” replied Brokowski.

“You care to explain why there’s high-quality reefer in your warehouse?” Menchie suddenly called out, motioning some fellow officers to join them.

Fahey made a sound that surely meant more bad news for his trousers. Brokowski shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong guy, bro. Ask him.” He gestured at Coggs.

Coggs’ eyes went wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“This one of your crew?” Mauer asked Fahey, gesturing to Coggs.

Brokowski answered. “Clearly not, bros. Fahey doesn’t deal that crap.”

Coggs cried out in protest, but Menchie’s men dragged him away.

“You’ve done this city a real solid,” Mauer said. “The check’s going to be in the mail. Have a good day, friends.” He tipped his hat and strolled off.

“Thank you, sir! Always a pleasure, Detective Mauer!” Fahey called out, waving like one does when they see their grandma after years.

“Can we finish our business?” Brokowski impatiently asked.

Fahey rushed to his car. “I crapped my pants again. Thank God I carry extras in the trunk!”

“Is this a common problem, bro?” Brokowski followed him. Man, he needed a grit.

Fahey flung open the trunk and started laughing.

“Now what, bro?”

“Look at that! All this time, I had the KB in the trunk! That’s pretty hilarious, bro!”

[hmslusitania]

in which, Eddie and Chris actually talk to each other and our boy does not pull punches. technically speculation for 5x03

“Hey, can we talk for a second?”

Chris looks up from his book, the camp light beside him throwing weird shadows across his face that make him look so much older than eleven. If Eddie thinks about that too hard, it’s going to break him.

Well.

Break him more.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks.

“Nothing’s—” But that’s just not true, is it. Eddie sighs and sits down on the foot of Chris’s bed. “It’s about Ana.”

Chris just stares at him, waiting for Eddie to continue.

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie starts, slow while he tries to put the words together in a way that’ll make sense to an eleven-year-old. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I have to break up with her.”

He braces himself for the explosion, the broken salad bowl all over again, the running away.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself when Chris’s response is a level, even, “Oh. Okay.”

He keeps talking before he’s really processed Chris’s non-reaction, because it had taken him so long to get the words right in his own head.

“Because I don’t love her, and I don’t think I’m ever going to, and it’s not fair to her to do that to her. And I know you’ve liked having her around, and that you like spending time with her, and if you want to be friends with her, that’s—you—what do you mean ‘okay’?”

Chris shrugs.

“No, no shrugging,” Eddie says. He squeezes Chris’s foot under the bedsheet and gets the tiniest hint of a grin in response. It fades just as quickly. “What do you mean ‘okay’? I thought you liked Ana.”

“She was my favourite teacher,” Chris confirms. “And it’s been nice having her around sometimes since I didn’t get to see any of my friends during quarantine.”

The unsaid “but” echoes in Chris’s bedroom. Eddie waits for him to say it, and when he doesn’t, he squeezes Christopher’s foot again.

“But?” Eddie prompts.

Chris shrugs again.

“Chris—”

“I didn’t want to say anything because she’s nice and I thought you liked having her around,” Christopher says, completely avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “But sometimes, some of the stuff she says reminds me of Grandma.”

Before Eddie can even begin to process the instant bile that goes along with the “oh god I’ve been dating my mother” of it all, Chris continues.

“And I love Grandma! And I know she loves me! But, I don’t know, sometimes it feels like she thinks I can’t do anything,” he says. “And sometimes it feels like that with Ana too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know how successful he is at choking down his horror. He hasn’t been very good at swallowing back any emotions these days.

“Because I thought you liked her,” Chris says. “And I want you to be happy, Dad.”

“I thought me dating her made you happy,” Eddie replies.

“It doesn’t make me unhappy,” Chris says, which is at least something of a relief. “But I don’t understand why you can’t date someone who makes both of us happy. Like Buck.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s going to need 5-7 business days to recover from this conversation.

“Buck dating Taylor makes you happy?” Eddie asks.

Chris rolls his eyes and looks so much like a teenager, Eddie kind of wants to run and find a way to time travel so he can make his kid be a little kid again.

It would get him out of this conversation at least.

“No,” Chris says. “I mean, you could date someone who makes you happy and makes me happy. Someone like Buck.”

Eddie doesn’t know how long he sits there, slack-jawed, but it’s long enough Christopher has to lean over and tap him on the shoulder to break him out of it.

“Buddy, that’s not — Buck and I aren’t — I’m not—”

“It would be okay if you were,” Chris says, and if Eddie has to hear an entire it’s okay to be gay speech from his child, he might have to check himself back into the cardiology ward. “And I always like having Buck around, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that part.”

“That’s—”

It feels a little like his life flashing before his eyes.

Dropping Christopher off at Buck’s loft before the tsunami.

After, telling him there’s no one in the world Eddie trusts more with his son.

This is my kind of therapy.

Putting Buck in the will.

This is what I want for him.

All the time Buck had spent with Christopher while Eddie was recovering. Hell, all the time he’d spent with Eddie.

Of course he can’t handle a pre-fab, just-add-water, ready-made family with Ana. How the hell is she supposed to fit when he’s already built an entire family, a real one, an unbreakable one, with Buck?

“Too bad he has a girlfriend,” Chris says, and there’s something just a little teasing about it, like he might have noticed the disgust on Eddie’s face when he mentioned Buck and Taylor.

“Yeah, well, right now so do I,” Eddie replies, and when Chris grins at him, Eddie thinks that he might, somehow, have just followed all of Eddie’s internal processing. Or, at least, the broad strokes of it. “One problem at a time, okay?”

And now, he’s just got to rip the bandaid off. That part, at least, should be easy.