#and the half life on my prescription stuff is clearly too short

[antiadvil]

send you a vibe!! 〰️〰️ hope you feel better soon 🫶🏻

thank you 🫶🏻 luckily the post-tit headache was just like 2 days and now i am back to normal headache 🫡 i really appreciate ppl checking in though 🥹

[3wisellamas]

Giant Sweet Cap’n Cakes Headcanon Masterpost!

(Fun fact, I thought most of these up while on one REALLY long hike.  ^^;  You can tell I fell for these three pretty hard.)

Music:

-I like the idea that, while the three all share a love of hip hop, glitch hop, electronic music in general, and a little lo-fi for chill times, they all have different tastes outside of those.  (Meaning if you pass them the aux cord, they WILL argue!)

-Sweet's actually the biggest audiophile of the group, with by far the most eclectic tastes; he will literally put together playlists that go from dubstep to heavy metal to classical to rap to vaporwave to even country.  The others don't really get it, but they're cool with whatever he puts on, and learn a lot of new music from him!

-He also owns an electric guitar, which he just plugs into himself to use as an amp and plays early in the morning to wake the others up if needed (he's the early riser and the other two are night owls...)

-Cap'n's definitely got a more narrow focus than the other two; he likes rap and also R&B, jazz, and even a little swing/electro swing.  He's also been caught more than once listening to cheesy romantic pop songs, claiming he's just into them for their potential madamoizel-attracting uses but really he's just a sappy romantic.

-He can also rap, very well in fact, and gets Sweet to beatbox while he freestyles. 

-Heck, he's just got a good singing voice in general, helped by having a built-in autotune, and dominates at karaoke!

-K_K also has a really broad range, but stays more towards the electronic end of the spectrum -- melodic dubstep, synthpop, disco, trance, chiptune, DnB, even occasionally puts on straight-up ambient spa music to chill out to (the only genre the other two will NOT tolerate.)

-K_K has also, in the past, set up entire mini-raves just by themselves, complete with glowsticks and everything, while Cap'n and Sweet were out doing whatever.  They were...not pleased, when they got back, mostly because they weren't invited.  All three got to have one together eventually though.  

-Physical media is king in their shop; if it's not on a CD, cassette tape, or a vinyl record (or an 8-track, though they have to dig out their old player for it), they will refuse to play it, and might even ask you to leave.  "MP3" is an extremely dirty word to them.

-(In fact, they don't get along too well with the MP3 player-headed robots elsewhere in the city.)

-They are indeed always listening to music on physical media as well -- K_K and Cap'n are their own CD players (though Cap'n's one of those models that's also got a built-in FM radio), while Sweet has a straight-up Walkman.    

-(He's also the group's cassette champion, claiming his media of choice is superior to CDs because you can record music on BOTH sides of the tape!  The other two just don't have the heart to point out that each side only holds half as much music as a CD, and you don't even have to rewind those...)

-Jury's still out on Hit Clips.  Cap'n and Sweet think they're just toys, but K_K genuinely collects and appreciates them and treats them like actual music (it helps that they are only around four seconds long!)

-Believe it or not, the headphones are only decoration, all three actually just...listen to their music entirely within their own heads, though they can also switch to playing it externally on their speakers as well.  Perks of being robots!  Though, sometimes K_K has his internal volume up too high, and misses things that other people say because of it.

-Sweet also has an input port, and connects himself to his turntable to act as the speakers!  The other two are WAY too embarrassed to ask if they can use it as well.

-Sweet can play almost any instrument you throw at him, as long as it's not a woodwind (Surprisingly, he can do brass, since those work on vibration rather than air!).  He prefers his guitar or violin when he isn't spinning records on his turntable.  Where the other two just enjoy music, he's the actual trained musician.

Voice headcanons:

-Sweet:  Kind of deep, bass-y, lots of reverb, a slight tinny audio distortion to it like a low-quality recording that becomes much more pronounced when he gets upset or starts shouting.  And since he's a speaker, you can literally feel the vibrations he makes when he's speaking!

-Cap'n:  Scout from TF2.  I am sorry, but I absolutely cannot get that out of my head for him.  XD  However, he's actually putting that voice on as an "accent" of sorts, his real voice is actually super autotune-y like K_K's, and it comes out whenever he gets flustered, his pitch only getting higher and higher as it gets worse...

-K_K:  Pure autotune, he can just do whatever the hell he wants with his voice -- pitch, tone, whatever, and while he tends to keep it a little higher he can and does change it to fit his mood!  He often has a completely different voice every day, but the others are used to it.  He also just straight-up vocalizes sound effects (like, the kind that make you go "How did you just make that sound with your mouth?!") and can mimic other people perfectly (though the slight mechanical distortion does give it away).  There are absolutely no rules when it comes to K_K's voice.

-They harmonize perfectly whenever they sing together! 

Sweet:

-I like to think Sweet's actually the brains of the group; like, not SMART, he just holds their one collective braincell most often.  He does any technical work when they're building stuff, like soldering circuits or the occasional programming, and even handles a lot of the actual business operations and pays the bills.  The other two also like to follow his lead when it comes to rebellion plans, even if he’s not the official leader.

-That said, though?  It's balanced out by him being rather hotheaded and having the shortest temper by a lot.  There are REASONS why he's not usually out selling bagels with the others -- he's unfortunately prone to some more "extreme" sales tactics, like hurling half their stock at random passersby until they finally agree to buy some.  On the plus side, he's always the first to step up to defend the gang from anything that dares to harm them, and is always on guard.

-He can also hold a heck of a grudge -- don't ever get on his bad side!  Cap'n and K_K are mostly immune to this though, if he gets upset with them he works through it by the end of the day.  It helps that they can all hug it out.

-He's a bit of a perfectionist, often working overtime to try and get everything they build exactly right.  He can get really frustrated when things don't work out the way he plans, or when he can't make sense of a problem, or when Cap'n and K_K are goofing off instead of doing their part, and needs to go blast some loud music and blow off steam.

-He does have a really tough time keeping his balance, since his head is a bit heavier than the rest of his body, but he takes tripping over his own feet constantly in stride.  The biggest problem he has is with dancing -- while he'll join in with the others on occasion, he can't match their more acrobatic moves and sticks more to actually PLAYING the music they're dancing to.

-He's also really, really unlucky, just in general.  He actually considers the other two his good luck charms, since they help him out whenever he trips or gets into a bad spot!

-He's the fashionista of the group, surprisingly.  It's difficult for him to find clothes that fit his body, so he tends to get a little creative with it and has a whole closet full of different stuff!  And since Cap'n is roughly the same size they'll occasionally swap jackets.

Cap’n:

-Cap'n actually has managed to score a handful of dates with girls in the past!  However, NONE of them went well, and only one actually made it to the second date (only to break up right in the middle of it), so he always ends up returning home heartbroken and in tears.  Sweet and K_K, by this point just ready for it whenever they hear that he's going out that night, always dry him off before he shorts himself out, take him to bed and cuddle with him (platonically, I don't see them as brothers but I also don't see them as having that conversation until Cap'n's ready, which he clearly is NOT), remind him that it doesn't hurt forever and he isn't unlovable and that he'll find someone eventually, etc.

-They have sat him down multiple times to try and gently suggest to Cap'n that he might just not be into women?  And that he’s actually turning them off by trying so hard?  To which he's always just like "No, of course not.  I'm straight.  Love the ladies.  Totally.  Oh no they didn't catch me checkin' out that one dude earlier did they?  Is that what this is about?!"

-(Basically, Cap'n is just a hopeless romantic in love with the idea of being in love, but is absolutely clueless as to how it works or what he actually wants, and his best buds are always there to catch him when he falls.  ;v; )

-The glasses are prescription -- he's SUPER nearsighted, a hardware glitch he refuses to fix.  Sometimes when he's working on something close up he'll take them off, panicking when he can't find them afterwards, only to have the others point out that they're just on his head.  He’s also got non-tinted glasses, but you will not catch him DEAD wearing those unless it’s an absolute emergency.

-This dude is SUPREMELY insecure with himself.  Like, his rather questionable fixation on romance aside, he basically runs off of others' validation, the "cool" persona he's spent much of his life building up being how he hides the fact that he isn't really sure who he is, or what he wants to do with his life, or what he's even good for -- the others have learned to check on him now and then whenever he hides away in the back of the shop, since he can slip into some pretty dark places when left alone to sulk.  It took a long time for him to open up even to them to share his feelings, and sometimes still has doubts about whether they or anyone else really care about him as more than just The Smooth One...

-He's the only one of the three to actually enjoy the occasional silence, especially when he's trying to think, or whenever he's upset.  So, his headphones also serve a dual purpose -- they're noise-cancelling!

-He's the video guy, carrying around a small camcorder and constantly trying to record the group's activities, to put together into music videos!  He also just likes to record himself doing stupid stunts for posterity, though K_K just takes these and makes (affectionate) blooper reels.

-Cap'n is not his real name, similar to K_K.  However, unlike K_K, he refuses to say what it is, just that it's embarrassing.

K_K:

-K_K has a bad habit of just completely zoning out when he gets into his music, getting completely lost in the groove and needing to be pulled back to reality.  It's not a bad thing during jam sessions, but at work, or in the middle of a battle...not so much.

-He kind of needs to have some kind of music going at all times -- silence drives him absolutely CRAZY!  Though, because he gets distracted by his own music, he then misses out on entire conversations, only tuning back in towards the end.  Sometimes the other two have to repeat or summarize what they just said for him.

-He knows sign language, and taught the others to use it.  They're able to communicate reasonably well no matter how loud their shop gets, or on days when K_K isn't able to form words properly (he's just shy, and even when he isn't he gets tongue-tied a LOT).

-He's easily the best dancer of the three, and uses his extendable body to get really creative with his moves!  He even knows a little ballroom, somehow, which he'll pull out sometimes to make the others laugh.

-(Seriously, K_K CANNOT stand to see Sweet or Cap'n not smiling.  He'll do anything to keep the group's spirits up, usually cracking jokes during a scrap project or doing little favors, and they appreciate all his efforts!)

-K_K has the WORST sleep cycle, ever.  If you let him, he will stay up all night working or partying, finally going to bed at 6AM, and will then sleep until 6PM if the others don't wake him up at some point.  If they know he was up really late they'll let him sleep in a little, but he's often pretty sleep-deprived and running solely on sugar and caffeine, which doesn't help his natural loopiness.  

-He is a VERY physical guy.  Seriously, he will just scoop up and hold Sweet or Cap'n like a cat every five minutes; at first they were just like "Oh.  Okay.  We're hugging now I guess," but after a while they got more used to it and even anticipate when K_K is going to do it.  And he also initiates tons of snuggles and gives piggyback rides whenever one of his bandmates (usually Sweet) requests.  

-K_K actually scrapbooks, collecting pictures and little mementos of places he and the others have gone and things they've done.  After the library fountain is sealed, he pulls them out to show everyone else from Cyber City and reminisce about home.

-It's very hard to make K_K angry, since he tends to stay super chill and brushes off almost everything.  But, on those very, very rare occasions when something does get under his metal outer casing, he'll go full-on silent treatment, not speaking to anyone for up to a week as he sulks and stomps around the junk shop, and even refuses to play any music!  And no amount of sweets or hugs or cheering up will bring him out of it, either; the other two have learned to just wait him out and let him have his space, letting him come to them when he's finally ready to talk about it.

Misc:

-Though all three love everything sweet, K_K's the only one who really goes overboard with it, making whole meals out of candy.  Sweet, ironically enough, actually prefers more salty/savory snacks, while the less is said about Cap'n's hot sauce addiction, the better.

-Okay, actually, I will say more about it.  Cap'n loves spicy food in general, and literally drinks tabasco sauce right from the bottle.  However, he's got a bad habit of daring himself to eat hotter and hotter stuff, ESPECIALLY if someone is watching, and can easily get in WAY over his head before begging for milk.

-They also all totally drink battery acid like Queen.

-Heck, being both Darkners and robots, they can really eat literally anything.  Normal food, milk, oil, batteries, gallons of pure sugar, toothpaste, moss, glitter (NEVER let K_K get hold of any though, he gets lost in the sauce), broken glass, etc, and of course their own deep-fried CDs.  Only thing they can't do is water, since, you know, robots.

-With a lot of the aesthetics of Cyber City being close to turn-of-the millennium and early 2000s (CDs and boomboxes, popup ads, wired mice, Queen theorized to be one of those see-through iMacs, EVERYTHING about Spamton), I like the idea that the boys DO NOT have smartphones, and if you handed them one they'd have no clue how to use it or what to do with it.  But they do have cell phones:  Sweet's got an old flip phone covered in stickers (courtesy of K_K), Cap'n splurged for one of those that slide open and with a camera (he set his background to a tiny, grainy photo of the three of them!), and K_K has one of those indestructible Nokia bricks, that Sweet got him after he kept breaking all his other ones.  They can all text, but that's about as high-tech as they get.

-Same with tablets or newer computers in general, they might share one tiny netbook at most.  Cap’n never remembers to log out of his Dark World dating profile, so the others will snoop or post embarrassing things to it.

-They're really, really durable, even without milk -- they're made of 90s plastic and electronics, so it takes a LOT to take one of them down!  Plus, they regularly repair each other back at the shop (it took a LONG time for them to gain enough trust to physically open and work on each other), so as long as at least one's left to drag the other two to safety they'll be just fine.

-However, if they get splashed with water, caught in the rain, or worse, drowned, they will short out, or shut down on the spot to prevent damage.  Once they completely dry out, though, they'll start right back up, no worse for wear.  When only one of them gets waterlogged the other two will break out the hair dryers to dry them out faster, or even pop them into the oven in a pan of rice like an iPod that got dropped in the toilet...

Finally, backstory?

-Cap'n and K_K met first -- maybe both as new recruits to another, much less savory gang of music equipment robots, and bonded as a result of being put upon by the more established members (Cap'n probably even had to defend K_K more than once when his inattentiveness got him into trouble!)  But, they both had enough one day, and decided to break off and form their own thing, making music and selling CD bagels to support themselves.

-Sweet, meanwhile, has the complete opposite background, coming from a rich and important family of musicians in Cyber City who regularly entertained Queen in her mansion (hence why he always used to get sweets from her!)  But, he was kind of the black sheep, preferring his own style of music, and decided to strike out on his own as a street musician instead.

-They met when Cap'n and K_K accidentally set up to sell bagels on Sweet's usual corner, and he battled them to reclaim his turf.  But, they were evenly-matched (even two-to-one; Sweet's definitely the strongest of the trio!), and impressed each other with both their fighting and musical skills, so Sweet decided to join their tiny group, and thus Sweet Cap'n Cakes was formed.  

-After the whole situation with Queen is resolved, SCC turns their rebellion into an anti-DRM kind of thing?  Nobody can hold back the music, man!

[justnerdthings]

New Beginnings Ch. 7

Female reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao (Might end up being both)

You should have killed Lao last night.

Liu confesses something.

Chapter is a little short. My apologies.

A knock woke you from a dead sleep. You groaned and lifted the covers over your face. You immediately regretted it. Your arms ached so much! Oh, god your arms. You rolled over and bundled up. You must have pulled some muscles pulling Lao up from that ledge. Chasing him with a sword probably didn't help either. Who knew swords weighed so much?!

And he’d done the whole thing on purpose! He’d nearly killed you! You hated him. You wouldn’t risk your life for his ever again. Boy who cried wolf. Fuck him.

You wondered if the whole argument at dinner last night was on purpose as well. Was it all part of his sick plan? Get you so worked up that you would face your fear? Fuck him.

Another knock dared to disturb you again. You didn't move. Maybe if you just ignored it, it would go away.

"Y/N! Get up!" Lao called from the other side of the door.

You groaned again. No. Not today. Not after last night.

"Y/N!" He banged on the door.

"Go away!" You shouted groggily. You were in no mood for him today.

"Get up! You have to train!"

"Leave me alone!"

He banged again… and again… and then he just kept banging. He was going to annoy the shit out of you to get you out of that bed.

Fine.

You sighed and threw the covers off of you, freezing for a moment as pain shot through you again. You got out of bed and opened the door just a few inches to look at him. "Go. Away," you told him, anger and annoyance on your face.

Lao grinned to you. "Good morning."

"Fuck off."

"Ooo," he feigned hurt. "Are you still upset about yesterday?"

You just gave him a look.

"Okay. Okay. I admit it. I took it a bit too far—"

"A bit?"

"Okay. A lot."

"You could have gotten us both killed, you idiot."

"But we didn't."

"You're an asshole."

"So I've been told." His stupid grin was plastered to his face.

You sucked in a breath and just stared at him.

"If it makes you feel any better, Liu scolded me last night after you went to bed."

"Liu's a smart guy." And Liu was. He was easily your favorite of the two of them.

Lao was silent for a moment. His eyes searched your clearly unamused face. "You really are upset, aren't you?"

You sighed. "Yes. And frankly, I don't want anything to do with you right now."

His jaw hardened as he realized he had severely fucked up. "Okay," he said. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help you get over your fear of heights."

"The sentiment is nice. But the execution was shit."

"But it worked. Right?"

You stared hard at him. "Go away, Lao," you said and began closing the door, but his foot stopped it

"Okay. Alright. You can be mad at me. But you still have to train today."

"Ask Liu. I'll train with him."

Lao looked hurt. "Liu's busy this morning."

"Then I'll train by myself."

"You hardly know what you're doing."

"Lao…"

"It's me or nothing."

You stared at him… Dammit, he was right. "Fine. But don't pull anything like you did last night. If you do, I'm letting you die." You knew you wanted to let him die, but you probably wouldn’t.

"No you won't," he said knowingly, smirking. Again, he was right.

"Yeah, I will," you lied.

"Okay. Fine. I promise."

You stared at him, then shut the door in his face with a slam.

"Oh! C'mon!" He banged on the door again. “Y/N! Don’t make me kick down this door and drag you out!”

You rolled your eyes as you got dressed, flinching through the pain in your arms. Today was going to suck so bad. Yesterday sucked… the day before sucked… the day before that… It was just going to get worse wasn’t it? Just one big suck-fest. The only good thing to come out of all this was now you weren’t going to die of heart disease…

Okay, that was a big good thing. Breaking yourself in training didn’t seem like a bad trade off. And you guess you owed Raiden that much at least. Reaching behind you, you nearly shouted as pain shot up both your arms. You’d managed to keep it to a moderate whine.

“You okay in there?” Lao’s voice called. Now he’d sounded concerned.

You turned to look at the door. It was still closed. He must have heard you. “Yeah, fine. Hold on,” you said as you looked down. Your sash was on the floor, having dropped it when you tried to tie it around you. You bent down and grunted as your back protested, but picked up the sash and walked over to the door. You slipped your feet into your shoes and opened the door.

Lao was standing right there. He pulled his head back as the door creaked open and looked you over. Had he had his ear on the door? You rose a brow as if to ask him, but he stepped back to give you room. “You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded and stepped out, closing your door.

“You’re lying.”

You sighed and gave him an unamused look before walking for Raiden’s arena, the one with the fucking ledge. He followed you this morning.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you lied.

“Why are you lying?”

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Why do you even care, Lao?” You asked, now fully and thoroughly annoyed.

His hand caught your shoulder and stopped you. You winced with a sharp gasp, but quickly tightened your lips to hide the pain. It didn’t work. He pulled his hand away and an uncharacteristic look came to his face. Was he… worried? “You’re not okay,” he said.

“Mn? No.” You shook your head. “I’m fine. See?” You forced a smile and turned to continue walking, but he grabbed your wrist this time.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone taking a stern turn. “You’re not okay. What’s wrong?”

“I just pulled something last night. I’m fine,” you moved your hand to pull it out of his grip, but his grip tightened.

He stared at you. His eyes searched over you. You could swear a twinge of guilt sparkled in his eye. What the hell was going on? Your brows knotted and you tugged your hand back. He let you go.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you said, turning to continue walking.

He followed. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, but neither of you said anything.

At the arena, you walked to where you had meditated yesterday and took a step forward. But before you could sit, Lao tapped your shoulder gently, very gently. “Closer today,” he said and pointed towards the edge. You gave him a warning glare. “I promise. No tricks,” he said. And something in his tone made you realize he was telling the truth. No tricks.

Lao walked, stopping about half-way between you and the edge. He pointed to the ground in front of him and you hesitantly followed, sitting in front of him. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You straightened up… carefully. A flinch crossed your face for a moment before you relaxed. You heard something drop to the sand in front of you. Opening your eyes, you were surprised to see Lao sitting there, facing you. Your brows knotted again.

“Close your eyes,” he told you, watching you. You did. Whatever. He could sit wherever he wanted to. “Deep breath,” he said. You took one and let it go slowly. A pang shot up your back and you winced. “Relax,” he said. You let your back slouch a bit, and surprisingly, he didn’t correct you. “Breathe.” You took another breath. When he didn’t say anything afterwards, you figured he meant to just keep breathing. So you did.

You were so tired. Everything hurt. You’d kill to just get some advil today. Or a heating pad. Liu wasn’t kidding when he said you might feel like they were trying to kill you. You felt like you’d been dropped in a blender. It was like they wanted to break you. Break you and piece you back together. But that was what they were doing, wasn’t it? Molding you into something new? Mold you into a fighter. A killer. You let a sigh go.

“Focus.”

You took a deep breath. God, if you could just punch him right in the face… How could Liu stand him? Lao was the most annoying, most stubborn, most idiotic person you’ve ever met. How could anyone stand him? You should have let him fall last night. Maybe you’d have done the world a service… No. He needed to fight in Mortal Kombat. The more help the better. And last night proved he was far better than you. He played with you like you were a toy! Would you really be able to keep up with him and Liu in the few months Liu said? Ugh, this was going to be the worst few months of your life.

Your arm started twitching. A knot twisted your stomach. Oh no. Not this again. Your arm shook and the tremors returned. You sighed again. You went to purposely shake your arm in a hope that it would calm the nerves down, but a hand caught your wrist. Your jaw tensed and you opened your eyes.

Lao was leaning towards you, looking at your arm as it shook in his hand. He reached over with his other hand. He felt up your arm, giving firm, but careful squeezes along the way. Was he trying to massage your arm? Would that even help? He pressed on your unimpressive bicep, and you nearly shouted. You pulled away from him and covered your arm with your other hand, guarding it. You hissed as the pain surged into your shoulder and back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. He moved onto his knees and closer to you.

You scootched away from him. “Just… Don’t touch me,” you told him, rubbing your arm carefully.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He looked down at the sand, then got up and stepped away. “You were doing great, by the way.”

You watched him with knotted brows. What the hell was up with him? Did he actually feel guilty? Was he even capable of that?

Instead of heading to breakfast after your morning meditation, you had walked yourself to the infirmary. Partly because the pain wasn’t getting any better, and partly to get away from Lao. The monk that saw to you had examined your back and arms. It was all stuff you’d expect to be done as a nurse. It brought a sense of routine… of normalcy. It was easier to relax. The monk seemed to confirm your suspicions. He believed you had torn quite a few muscles, maybe even strained your shoulder joints. His prescription: Rest.

Oh, thank god.

You’d since laid back on the gurney, a heating pad under your shoulders and back. It felt amazing. You allowed your eyes to close and self to relax. Finally, some luxury in this place, even if it was only a small one. You had just about dozed off when you heard a gentle knock. You could groan. Why did this place insist that you not sleep? With a sigh you opened your eyes and looked over without turning your head. “What?” You answered.

“It’s Liu,” you heard his voice answer. “Are you… decent?”

You took a deep breath and let yourself relax again. Liu was welcomed company. “Yeah. Come in.”

The curtain was pulled aside and Liu stepped in. His face was all shades of guilt as he looked at you. You knew what was coming and closed your eyes.

“Don’t apologize,” you told him.

Liu didn’t say anything for a moment, as if having to think of something else to say. “Lao told me you came here after meditation.”

“For once he told the truth.”

You heard the stool being dragged over to your side. “He feels guilty that he may have caused you injury.”

“He should.”

You imagined Liu nodding. “How bad is it?”

“Several torn muscles and possible shoulder joint strain.”

Liu was silent for a moment. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just keep him away from me,” you sighed.

“What he did yesterday is inexcusable. But he meant well.”

“Please don’t defend him, Liu.”

“... I need to confess to you. Before things get worse between the three of us.”

You opened your eyes to see him sitting next to you, thumbing his prayer beads as he watched them. Your brows knotted. “What could you possibly need to confess, Liu?” Honestly. Had this guy ever sinned?

“We’ve been testing you. Lao has been purposely trying to upset you, to see what you would do, how far you would go. He went too far yesterday.”

You watched his face sink further into guilt. If he hadn't have been so damn cute you might have gotten angry. “And what did you do?”

“You remember the halls I led you through to meet Lord Raiden?... That wasn’t the only route. It wasn’t even a logical one. I just wanted to see how you’d react. And I went along with Lao’s plans.”

Your jaw clenched. You looked away and to the ceiling. “Lord Raiden curing me of Heart Disease wasn’t a lie, was it?” You could feel your chest tighten at the idea.

“No.” He shook his head. “That did happen. I swear to you.”

Well, that was good. You relaxed again. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I was hoping we could start over.”

“No.”

He was silent.

“It doesn’t make much sense to start over. It’s fine. I’m not mad.”

“You aren’t?”

“No.” You were, in a weird silent way. But you wouldn’t let him know that. He was at least trying to remedy the situation.

“So you will continue to train with us?”

“Yeah… I get it, Liu. You two had to see what you were dealing with. Just promise me something.”

“Of course.”

“No more tricks.”

“No more tricks, Y/N,” Liu promised.

@ancientowlgirl @miss-nori85

[keeper-not-hero]

MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) - 

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection.  Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void)  - 

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space)  - 

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.)  - 

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance. 

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) - 

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals. 

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

[scribbleb-red]

Hello Ghost (An Afternoon Andreil AU)

After college, the Minyard-Hemmicks sell up in South Carolina and Andrew is signed by the Baltimore Bombers.

He buys a house on the outskirts of Leakin Park, it's pretty grand but he has a vision of inviting his family to stay, one day, perhaps.

The house is also more than a bit run down (which is why Andrew figures it was a good price). 

He starts to fix the place up. New paint. New floors. New windows. 

But then weird stuff starts happening. 

Food he was sure was in the fridge disappears. Stationary and paints will vanish from almost under his nose. Tools go missing only to reappear somewhere else. And clothes too (he is sure he brought his favourite black hoodie with him from SC, and Aaron swears he hasn't got it...). 

He starts to hear noises - not loud, just like shuffling, sliding, sometimes like a door is creaking open.

Andrew has nearly done the ground floor when he thinks he's found the answer - navy paint paw prints - all across his freshly stripped and varnished wood floor. 

He won't lie, they're kind of cute. The creature must have knocked over the feature-wall paint.

But then, one day after practice, he comes home and takes off his headphones and he's sure he can hear humming. Whatever animal the pawprints came from, he's sure most of them won't know Bohemian Rhapsody.

He creeps up the stairs, it's pretty tatty up here still. The only room he's really bothered is his own. There are rooms he's barely opened since he arrived - particularly the one that looks like it once belonged to a kid (the yellow clown wallpaper *has* to come down soon).

The humming is coming from the main bathroom. 

His hand hovers over the handle. 

He presses down. 

The door swings open. 

 He swears he sees a flash of red. Blue eyes in the mirror. 

But when he pushes inside, nothing and no one is there. 

"The actual fuck??" he mutters.

The actual fuck is right. 

Over the next few weeks Andrew becomes increasingly paranoid. Summer has bled into autumn and he is pretty sure he's being haunted. 

There is a ghost in this house. There is a ghost in these walls.

He talks to Aaron who just shrugs and tells him to call an exterminator if he has rats in the walls. Andrew is sure there aren't rats in the walls. That's not what he's hearing. Rats don't have nice tenor voices that hum Queen and Blue Oyster Cult through the piping. 

He talks to Nicky, who freaks out because omg Andrew you have to get out before the ghosts turn violent Andrew, you don't know what kind of ghost it is Andrew, what if you piss it off by accident Andrew. Maybe you can get an exorcist Andrew. Or salt? Isn't salt bad for ghosts?

He calls Kevin, who frowns down the line. 

"Are you okay, Minyard? Not getting rattled now you're in the pros?" 

No, Andrew is not rattled. He's doing fucking great for the Bombers. 

"Then get some sleep and... maybe call Bee?"

Great so Kevin thinks he's mad.

He calls the estate agent last. Though really he should have called them first.

"There's something wrong with this house," he says. "Tell me what's wrong with this house." 

"Oh dear." The estate agent is very anxious. "I'm so sorry, Mr Minyard. I thought everyone knew."

Turns out everyone except him did know. Andrew's grand house that he got for basically pennies was once the home of the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew missed the memo though, too busy getting his brother clean and surviving the mood-meddling, court-prescribed drugs at the time.

"I'm so very sorry," says the estate agent. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do now, but I do know a good geomancer who could feng shui the property for you." 

 Andrew slams down the phone. 

 So he has a ghost in his house. 

 Probably a murder ghost too. 

 Fuck.

He decides that if he's going to get rid of his ghost, he's going to have to figure out what exactly the ghost is taking, when and why. He starts keeping track in a little notebook. He quickly notices something even weirder than the missing stuff though.

The ghost takes food - not a huge amount - but enough each week. It's mostly fruit and vege, the occasional protein bar. If Andrew makes smoothies from fruit, the ghost will take some. And sometimes the ghost will make smoothies itself and leave half for Andrew.

The ghost launders any of the clothes it borrows. Not everything is returned. But socks will miraculously reappear. So will tshirts and sometimes jumpers. The black hoodie has not made a reappearance. But his woollen winter jumper does, with the elbow holes freshly darned.

The ghost showers. Andrew has noticed more than once that the bathroom mirror is misted and the towels damp when they shouldn't be.

The ghost leaves red hair behind, long curls of it.

The ghost is probably not a ghost. Or if they are, they're a very very corporeal one.

He decides maybe - just maybe - he could lure the ghost out. 

After a shower one day, he writes on the misted mirror:  HELLO GHOST. 

The next day, the ghost leaves a reply: HI HUMAN. 

 Andrew frowns and scrubs the note away.

He goes out to buy clothes for the ghost - no need for them to nick his favourite stuff if they have their own right? 

He leaves the bag in the bathroom and writes: THE BAG IS FOR YOU. 

The next day he sees: THANK U. 

The day after: CAN I HV A TOOTHBRUSH? 

Andrew buys one, even though the ghost writes like a fuckboi.

When he comes home from a long weekend of away matches, the toothbrush is used and wet. There's a Smiley on the mirror in the the mist. Andrew scowls. And he realises the ghost is near - because there's a shuffle, a sigh & for a second he's sure the shadows behind him move.

Andrew and the Ghost fall into a rhythm. 

Sometimes when the ghost needs something there will be a note on the bathroom mirror. Sometimes when the ghost is thankful, they'll leave homecooked left overs in the fridge for Andrew, presumably made when he's at practice.

Aaron asks him one day if he solved his rat problem. 

"It's a ghost problem,” Andrew tells him. “But yes, something like that."

For Christmas, Andrew goes to visit Nicky and Erik in Germany. 

It's three weeks away and he's so anxious about the flights, he forgets about his little ghost in the walls. 

He packs in a hurry. He turns off the lights. Turns down the heating. Locks the doors.

The holiday itself is good. Nicky is thriving now he's back with his boyfriend and Andrew almost feels bad that he kept Nicky from being this happy for so many years. Almost. Because he wouldn't trade those years with Nicky and Aaron for anything. 

He goes home, content.

As soon as he opens the front door, he knows something is wrong. 

It's freezing cold. So cold his breath is vapours on the air. 

There's a smell too, stale and fetid. Like old fruit. 

And that's when he sees him, the ghost.

The ghost is a boy, but he certainly looks half dead. 

He's sprawled on Andrew's new sofa. He's all bones. Emaciated to a point where he looks childish. His skin is sickly pale. His hair is dank and plastered to his forehead. His eyes are closed.

Andrew drops his bag and the ghost's eyes flutter open, just a slither before closing again. 

The ghost is sick. Incredibly sick.

Andrew calls Aaron. 

"My ghost is sick," is the first thing he says. "He has a fever. I don't know what's wrong with him." 

Aaron doesn't pretend to understand, he just lists off ways to bring down a fever. "I can be there in the morning," he tells Andrew. "Just --"

-- Aaron stops short. He can't tell Andrew to keep a ghost alive can he? 

Andrew does what he can. He lifts his ghost up into his arms, wrinkling his nose at the sweaty, sick smell rolling off him. He's far too light and far too small.

Andrew tucks him into his own bed.

He finds a can of fizzy lemonade and brings it upstairs to the ghost. He's barely stirred but as Andrew cracks open the can, the ghost lets out the tiniest of whimpers and it breaks Andrew's heart.

Carefully, he nudges the ghost awake and helps him to drink some of the lemonade. 

"Bring up his sugar levels. Make sure he has plenty of fluids. Anything cold to bring down his temperature." 

It takes nearly an hour for the ghost to drink the lemonade.

Andrew doesn't sleep that night. Doesn't stop applying cold flannels. Checks his temperature every 30 minutes. 

"You better not become a real ghost, Ghost," he warns the boy in his bed. "I want my fucking hoodie back."

Aaron arrives and it’s a good thing he's just finished his rotation in the ER because Andrew's ghost is a young man with one of the worst cases of pnuemonia he's seen in a while. He calls up a professor and explains why he needs a prescription for a variety of medications.

He's able to get them within the morning and they set Andrew's room up to be a hospital bed minus the bleepity-bloopety machines. 

Andrew finally sleeps when Aaron forces him to - but only for a couple hours before he's back at the ghost's side. 

Two days go by.

Ghost wakes up. 

For all that he looks like he hasn't eaten a full meal in his life, his eyes are the most striking Andrew has ever seen in his life. They are coldest blue, like a winter's sky. 

"Hello Ghost," Andrew says. 

"Hi Human," replies the ghost.

Ghost recovers slowly. He sleeps a lot. Andrew cooks for him. Makes him eat soups and broths and slowly reintroduces solids. 

Turns out when Andrew left, he'd locked Ghost inside with only enough food in the cupboards for a week. 

Ghost managed to make it last 12 days.

But with the heating off, Ghost had shivered his way into sickness. 

Andrew asks him how the hell he's been haunting his house when he's clearly not a ghost. Ghost frowns. 

"The walls," he says. "He built the walls too thick so they could hide escape routes." 

 "The Butcher?"

Ghost nods. He's so pale. Andrew presses because he knows there's a secret here and Ghost finally admits: "He was my father." 

The pieces fall into place as Ghost recovers. His name is actually Nathaniel but every time Andrew uses it, Ghost flinches.

Andrew moves Ghost out of the walls where he used to hide and into the house. 

"Why didn't you leave after your father died?" Andrew asks one day over hot chocolate and coffee. 

They're curled up on the sofa, their feet overlapping but nothing else.

"Because he didn't die," Ghost says. "He was killed." 

And out comes the story of how Ghost lived in the house as his father's prisoner. How he was trapped and how he was punished the few times he tried to escape. 

 There are scars, Andrew has seen them. They make sense now.

"My mother escaped though. With millions that belonged to my father. A couple years ago my father killed her... my uncle came in retribution. He killed my father. I was there."  Ghost's voice is thick and raw. His eyes won't meet Andrew's. "He said he'd come back for me."

"He never came back," Andrew fills in the next line. 

"No." 

"But you stayed." 

"I've barely been outside before. I never... I had rations stored and I figured, it was safe here at least, now he was gone." 

"And then I arrived." 

"Yeah. And it was kinda nice. Being your ghost."

Andrew chest feels warm and full. "You're still my ghost," he says after a minute. 

And it's true. This boy from the walls is going to haunt Andrew forever - and he doesn't even mind.

Andrew learnt to live in increments, one breath at a time, one minute, one hour, one day. He'll teach Ghost to do the same, over years. 

They'll find a human name for Ghost. They'll settle on "Neil", a name untainted by the father who hurt him or the mother who left him.

They'll cook together in the evenings, brushing against each other in whispers.

They'll fall asleep together on sofas and then, later, in their shared bed. 

They'll move house together one day, when Andrew transfers to another team. 

One day Andrew is lying in bed next to Neil, tracing patterns over freckled skin and taut muscles. 

"I meant to ask, what was with the pawprints that time? With the paint on the floor?" 

And Neil looks puzzled, then smiles. "Maybe it really was a ghost."

THE END 

[prorevenge]

Abusive mom is ruined and wanted

It's a rough story to start, so I'll just go chronologically.

The first exmaple of how evil she was my older brother told me. Back when I was really young, my dad was in the Army and managed to score some leave (vacation time) from Desert Storm to surprise my mom for her anniversary. When he knocked on the door, all my mom said was "Why aren't you dead, I need the money." Her new beau then started backing out of the garage in my dad's mustang cobra.

He got revenge, but that's a story for later if you guys want.

The divorce was pretty much what you expect, mom got custody of me. My dad later tricked her with some money and got me for a visit, then filed for custody since my mom had warrants out for her arrest.

A few years later my dad remarried to your typical evil stepmother who doted on her daughters and hates her stepson. For example, for Easter my step sisters got huge baskets of candy and chocolates, a couple toys, etc. I got an old soup can with my name painted on it (poorly) that "I could use for pencils."

This witch managed to talk my dad into sending back to my mom, and here the story begins in earnest.

Where my mom was living was an old two bedroom, one bath house. My sister's shared one room, my mom and stepdad shared the other, my brother got the whole basement, and I got a "room" so small that I could touch fingertip to fingertip each wall, and it was double that long. I had a curtain instead of a door.

I got nothing. I hated life there. I was one of only a few white kids at school, so I got beat up alot for being white, it was low income area in Michigan, so I was the one who always had to shovel, rake, mow, and then my mom would "rent me out" to the neighbors, and they all just paid her. I did all the chores and was "grounded until she felt like ungrounding me." I basically sat on my bed for six years anytime I was not in school, cleaning, or making her money.

I learned this later, but my mom was "extorting" money from my dad. She would demand $3000 for a school photo, and he willingly paid $700 a month in child support, even though there was no need to. (He worked in the oil field business after he retired, on a corporate board). She would make stuff up like "Our car broke, etc" and demand money. My dad had to fork over $12,000 for me to go visit him for a week. He couldn't take me in at the time, he wasn't home enough (lots of travel) and he was single, but I found out he was sending me Christmas and birthday gifts every year, and I later found out from my brother she pawned them all. He bought me a brand new Color Gameboy, which was promptly taken away because "I was grounded." She pawned that too. She would often hit me for stupid reasons, like when I once put the dishes away a bit damp or if I managed to get a chocolate milk from the school cafeteria. Once I got fed up and pushed her, she called he police and he chided me.

In short, it was hell.

Meanwhile my sister's got upgraded to a private school and lots of amazing toys. She took custody of my grandfather who had MS from the waist down and couldn't even use the bathroom by himself. She got power of attorney and took all his money and blew it, as well as taking half his pain meds (like Vicodin) and giving them to my brother to sell. This will be important later, kinda.

Now the revenge part. This is going to be a bit long, so I apologize in advance.

In my junior year of high school, I got to working in the library. My teachers were amazing and supportive, and knew my situation. I got my dad's email, and we started planning. He figured once I finished high school, he would personally come up and get me. Finally when my mom decided to have a "graduation party" for me, complete with inviting all her friends and none of the like, two people I could call a friend, a couple days before my graduation ceremony. About two hours before the party was going start, my dad pulls up. I invite him in, and he looks around, looks confused. He leans in and asks me "Where is she?" I point. She was right in front of him lying on the couch. He screwed up his face, and said he'd wait in the car.

While I was gathering all my stuff in a single garbage bag, my mom finally realized who this stranger was, and lost her shit. She tried everything from bribing me with Nascar tickets (I hate Nascar, she liked it but I knew she didn't have any) to physically obstructing me. She had pulled out all the stops for this party, spending a couple thousand and lots of time cooking, err making me cook. I get outside, throw my stuff in the truck, and we take off.

(Side story. We get halfway down the street and my dad has to pull over. He laughs uncontrollably for awhile. I asked his what's up, and in his Texan accent says "Boy, when I was a kid I always wanted to marry a movie star. I just didn't think it be Jabba the Hutt." Evidently they didn't recognize each other at first, she put on ALOT of weight after they divorced.)

We get to his place, and it starts. I get updates from my sister in law. The party was f*****d. She was humiliated. Since she didn't have me, my dad stopped sending money. They had months worth of unpayable bills. She had to pawn her jewelry, pull my sister's out of the private school and back into public school, sell one of the cars she had. Soon she started calling for money claiming someone stole the mail all the time so they couldn't pay their bills and needed money to replace the mailbox so they wouldn't steal it anymore.

It was refreshing knowing I was free, and I could say no with no repercussions. I was happy to live and let live. I vowed to leave her be and let her sink or swim by her own hand. I was elated to be free, and had no desire to look back at that part of my life.

But she wasn't done with me.

I decided to follow my dad's example and join the service. I decided the Navy was the place for me. My job required a top secret clearance, so they do a very thorough background check, to include a credit check. Turns out I was delinquent in mortgage payments, I was receiving social security, and I owed a power company alot of money among other credit card debts. That b****** stole my identity and ran me into debt since she couldn't get anymore money. I knew about identity theft, it just never occurred to me that a parent has everything they need to do so.

This couldn't stand. After I finished basic training and my technical school, I spoke to my Chief (supervisor). Chief was awesome. She managed to wrangle me a "temporary assignment" to a recruiting station in my old town where my mom lived so the Navy would buy my plane tickets. I spoke to the police and filed a report. One by one I managed to clear most of the debts from me and send all the debt collectors after her.

Then I made a visit to the social security office. I was in uniform at the time, and spoke to a clerk about how I was somehow getting payments when I never got anything. She looks up the account, and boom. My mom was here. She claimed I was permanently mangled and disabled in an accident and I was physically unable to sign, giving her permission to cash my checks. The clerk read that last part out slower as it dawned on her that I was clearly more than able. She opened a case. For the monolithic bureaucracy that was the government, they move pretty fast when someone's stealing money from THEM.

Turns out when they went to investigate, she had already skipped town. They issued warrants for her arrest and she is on the run.

I got cut a check for $20,000, the amount that was garnished from my wages for what she stole from the social security administration, and she now owes that much to Uncle Sam.

So this was ten years ago.

So evidently my brother found out that not only am I doing great, I am very successful. I recently left the service and I am starting an even more exciting job. So he told Mom, and she came crawling out of the woodworks via Facebook for money for a "doctor", but I told her prison gives free medical care, and it felt good. Turns out when my aunts (her sisters who lived in another state) found out about how she treated me, she was cut out of everyone's will, to include my grandmother. Unfortunately we didn't get to my grandfather before she cashed in on him.

So heavily in debt, with no family to turn to, no way to get a job, with fraud on her record as well as selling prescription medication, and warrants out for her arrest, my mother, Jabba the Hutt, is receiving hers.

I got cut a check for $20,000, the amount that was garnished from my wages for what she stole from the social security administration, and she now owes that much to Uncle Sam.

Sorry if this is the wrong sub, but I thought I'd share.

(source) story by (/u/Admiral_Bismarck)

[irondadgroupie]

Bohemian Rhapsody: Chapter 10

A/N: You might be wondering how long this story is going to be. Truth to told, @iamwhump and I have NO IDEA!

“Ugh, your hair is getting too long,” Tony muttered as he brushed the boy's curls. “How can that be? I thought your body would be focused on repairing your brain! Or did I misread the manual to your powers?”

Peter, as always, gave no answer but Tony did not let it get him down. If he did that, he would have lost his mind weeks ago.

“Would you mind if I cut it some? You have so many split ends you won't even believe!” He brushed loose hair from Peter's pillow and let out a breath. “You know, I do love myself but monologues are getting kind of boring. So, if you would be so kind to wake up that would be great.”

Peter stayed silent.

“Hey, any sound would do. A groan, a mumble, a scream, anything your mouth can come up with.”

Tony waited but nothing happened. He was too used to the ventilator, he was afraid Peter would never learn to breathe by himself again.

“Okay, do you want to see a movie then? May brought a bunch of them. Let's see... Peter Pan, the human version, Harry Potter, Robin Hood, God I have not seen this in ages! I loved it as a kid- Mom took me to see it in the premiere.” He trailed off and did not witness Peter's eyes opening. It was a shock that nearly stopped his heart.

“Peter,” Tony breathed out and stood up from the slouched position. He cradled the boy's face in his hands and tears filled his eyes. “Kiddo,” He kissed the boy's temple and embraced him. “Oh my God! You- you're here!”

Tony let go and stroked the boy's cheek, tears falling onto his skin. “You gave us such a scare but you came through, like you always do.”

Peter was staring at the ceiling, his eyes unblinking.

“You're such a brave boy,” Tony moved closer so he was in Peter's line of vision.

Nothing happened.

Tony frowned. “Peter?” He waved a hand over the boy's face. No response.

“Hey, kid,” Tony's heart nearly stopped again and he grasped the boy's shoulders in a desperate act. “What is wrong? Are you blind? Can't you hear me?” He pinched Peter's arm, but got no sound, no twitching, just a red mark from his nails. “Help!”

Things happened all to suddenly for Tony to make sense of them when the doctor entered the room, May following closely behind. It didn’t take either of them long to find the reason for Tony’s panic, and paradoxically, the medic managed to ease his worries and make his heart ache at just the same time.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. This is a good sign. A very good even so.” He said, swiftly moving the penlight across Peter’s line of vision. “This counts to the first signs of reaching a minimally conscious state. While he won’t yet be responding to commands or follow objects and such, he becomes increasingly aware of his environment. You might be experiencing him grasping your hands, probably even attempting to vocalize on reflex.”

“Vo-“ May stopped. “Will he be aware of the ventilator?”

“That’s hard to say. Given his vitals, he’s clearly already fighting back against it a little. But most patients in coma do not mind the ventilator in early stages of even a newly gained full consciousness. And we hope to have him away from the vent before that happens. If he continues to progress at the rate he is now, I don’t see any reason for it not to happen.“

“Alright so - what are we supposed to do now?” Tony asked, still struggling to regain his composure after the initial shock.

“Just continue as you did before.” The doctor answered with a smile on his face. “Talk to him, respond when he’s showing physical signs of short consciousness. The only thing that becomes important now is that you close his eyes when he opens them for too long at a time, because the blinking reflex might be hard to control just yet. But at the state he is in right now, I would rather not want them to be taped, in case he quickly regains consciousness.”

“Quickly? What time spans are we talking about right now?”

There it was again, the casual shrug. “Hard to quantify. Maybe just a few hours. Maybe another few weeks. It’s very individual.”

Tony sighed, fingers tracing the line of his eyebrows before he turned around, looking at Peter. The boy’s eyes had closed again. “You’re an especially sleepy individual, huh?” He smiled weakly. “But take your time. Your aunt and I won’t go anywhere.”

“Man, this movie is dark,” Tony muttered as Lampwick turned into a donkey. “How did your parents let you watch this?”

Peter laid beside him and Tony was almost expecting the boy to stay silent for the rest of his life. The doctor had informed them a week ago that Peter was now in a minimally conscious state and yes, there were some moments when Tony was certain a part of Peter got through the haze in his brain. But those moments were few in between.

“Jiminy Cricket is absolutely useless,” Tony shook his head and leaned on the pillows. Peter’s hand twitched and the man smiled tiredly. “Fine,” he grasped Peter’s hand and kissed the boy’s knuckles. “He is a great little bug. My new favorite.”

Peter grasped his hand.

Tony snorted. “Oh, so that you hear? And all those heartfelt proclamations of undying love you chose to ignore.”

“It’s not his fault, you told them while he was sleeping,” May chuckled as she opened the door. “Oh,” She glanced at the screen and offered Tony a take-away cup of coffee. “I was so scared of this movie.”

“I am not shocked,” Tony smiled and took a sip. “I have half a mind to turn this off but Peter doesn’t let me.” The man softened the blow with leaning down and setting a tender, long kiss on Peter’s head. The boy grasped his mentor’s hand.  “You’re pretty communicative today, kiddo.” He remarked, caressing the boy’s cheek with his knuckles.

“Maybe he simply knows what time it is.” May guessed, letting herself sink in the chair at Peter’s left side, her hand finding his. Tony had his eyebrows raised, but taking a look at his watch, he understood what she was talking about.

“Your aunt’s right. Almost forgot it’s training time already.” That fact was true in even two definitions: Ever since the first days of coma - or rather ever since his hand allowed it - he’d done the prescript workout with Peter every morning and evening, hoping to counteract the muscle-loss that the doctors feared was only increased by how enhanced his metabolism worked. However, it was Saturday, and Saturday evenings were usually spent training with the other Avengers. Tony should probably be down there too, but he couldn’t care less. At the moment, he had more important things in mind than his superhero-side or even company business. Pep kept him informed over the most important stuff when she came for lunch, but the decision-making rested on her. Once all of this trouble was over, Tony mentally reminded himself, he definitely needed to profoundly thank her for never not having his back.

“The others miss you a lot.” He started, standing up, deciding to start with the kid’s legs this time. “If you’d be conscious enough to give it a glance, you’d see the tons of gift cards and presents. Literally everyone sent one.”

“It’s beautiful, really.” May agreed. “There’s the new flowers Pepper brought yesterday, Areca palms. Huge ones, but the doctors said it might do you good because it supposedly keeps the air in this room fresh and clean.”

She and Tony shared a look instantaneously, realizing yet again that neither of them had an idea when Peter would have the pleasure of breathing in said freshness again.

May shook her head and just went on. “Then there’s literally dozens of ‘get well soon’ cards. And I mean dozens. Probably more than I have colleagues - and you know what that implies. I probably don’t even know half as many people.” Tony laughed while his hands were gently moving Peter’s feet.

“Me neither.”

“How come everyone knows Peter then?” May asked.

“Answer’s easily given, isn’t it?”

The smile finally reached the woman’s face too and she tightly squeezed her nephew’s hand. “Yes. Yes it is.”

“I can’t really pinpoint when it happened, but he certainly became everyone’s favorite intern. He’s really talkative, but in a genuine way. Most highly intellectual people have a tendency to be very unsociable. Peter isn’t. He’s the one person you tell about your daughter’s birthday once and he remembers it and brings a card the right day the next year. People like him because he actually listens to what he’s told.”

“Most of the time.” May put in.

“Most of the time.” Tony agreed, thinking about those plenty times the kid has disobeyed orders given, though for a good reason. “But seriously. If engineering isn’t going to get your speciality, you could really become one of those classic talking therapists. You never fail to make people happy, and make them become the best version of themselves he can.” Tony coughed, contrived enough to ensure May that he wasn’t sick, but natural enough to hide the intense sadness lingering behind the words. Peter had really managed to get the very best out of him.

“Speaking of Happy,”, he casually changed the topic, moving up to the kid’s arms to work on the arm muscles too. “He brought a card, too. And that new self-driving Lego car you so eagerly talked about last time he shuttled you. He might appear a little distant sometimes, but he really cares for you, too. We all do. And we’d all be goddamn happy if you just wake up soon.”

Peter didn’t respond, neither by a hand twitch, nor by opening his eyes, and after a while, May just continued to describe the presents he’d gotten.

Tony woke up around midnight that day. Lights were dimmed down – he’d asked Friday to gradually lower the settings beginning at eight pm to imitate somewhat of a daily routine to Peter. It took him a few minutes to realize what had woken him, and another to try and translate it into his language. Peter was moaning quietly, single vocals forced out of his mouth despite the breathing tube holding them down.

“You’re okay, kiddo? Does something hurt?” The boy had been laid on his back again, and Tony feared that it had not yet fully recovered from being laid on for almost two weeks straight. However, Peter’s heart rate was too low to indicate that something was physically painful.

“Or was it because I fell asleep?”, he inquired, squeezing the kid’s hand gently and massaging his temples with his thumb. “I should’ve stayed awake. It’s your aunt’s sleeping time. I’m sorry. Watching movies all day is just really tiring.”

Peter moaned again, and the sound broke Tony’s heart. He’d give everything he had just to hear the kids real voice again.

“I’m here, don’t worry. I’m always here.” He assured, but that didn’t entirely seemed to be it either. Tony tried to make the next guess. “Wanna hear a story?” Peter neither agreed to, nor refused the offer – or maybe Tony just couldn’t tell. He reached forward, scanning the literal tower of books they’d built for something he could read. “Something light-hearted, I assume, huh? Don’t have to get deep into the sciences when it’s almost midnight.”

Tony laughed at the irony that – if things were alright – they would be probably awake spending their time in his lab; on science stuff. Although Peter always became a little groggy around midnight, and they usually spent an hour just sitting in the kitchen, finally eating and drinking the required amounts and sometimes searching for new shirts for Peter. “I really miss seeing those engineering puns on your shirts. They certainly never failed to make my day.” He swallowed, suddenly having a vivid image of the hoodie Peter wore the day things were still alright. The print said: “I make horrible science puns, but only periodically.” The kid had loved it, given that this basically summed up his humor. But it had probably been cut apart by the emergency services. Tony would definitely order him a replacement. “Maybe that’s what we should do. Try and find you some new jokes to try out when you’re better. What do you think about that?” He used the time waiting for an answer looking his request up until he found some good ones.

“Okay, you’re ready? Here we go: A photon checks into a hotel and is asked if he needs any help with his luggage. He says, ‘No, I'm traveling light.’” Tony rolled his eyes. “God, that was a really bad one. This one’s better. Organic chemistry is difficult. Those who study it have alkynes of trouble. If that isn’t worth a shirt-print I don’t know what is.”

He saved it, deciding for himself that he was going to get the kid the best self-made science-shirts that ever existed, just to see Peter’s eyes light up in laughter. “Let’s mix it a little. One good – one bad. Although I bet you’d laugh about all of these. What did Gregor Mendel say when he founded genetics? ‘Woopea!’. We forget about that one and just go on. A couple of biologists had twins. They named one Jessica and the other Control.” Tony smiled. “I bet we’re going to hate this one in just a few weeks. When we’ve adjusted your formula to the new requirements, they’re gonna beta-test it on rats to see how efficient it is in comparison with control groups.”

Tony spent the next half an hour reading all kind of science jokes to Peter, suddenly realizing he probably wasn’t doing it mainly for the kid – but for himself. Whenever he finished reading one he imagined the boy’s reaction to it: Simply rolling his eyes, or even crying in guffaw over how awful some of these were. When Tony had once pulled the “Iconic Bond” joke, Peter had laughed so badly he couldn’t breathe straight for a solid ten minutes. God, how badly he wanted just to travel back to that moment and pretend the last weeks have been nothing but a very, very cruel nightmare.

“I had to make these bad chemistry jokes because all the good ones Argon.” He finished fittingly, after what must be the hundredth joke. “Some of those were actually quite good, weren’t they?” Peter squeezed his hand, and Tony smiled. At that point, he could easily imagine the kid might’ve even heard him in the haze of his brain. “But it’s really late, so maybe we’re just going to read you a goodnight story, and then you just relax for a little while. I put on some music, too.” He picked a book filled with Toy Story short stories and searched one he hadn’t read to the boy just yet, leaned back in his chair and started telling Peter about Woody’s on-road adventures, until even his eyes almost dropped.

“Goodnight, Pete.” He whispered, tenderly stroking the boy’s curly hair.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Fuck!  Fuckfuckfuck!

I got six hours sleep, and could not get more, so the cats took turns sitting on me while I read.  I finished the Marlowe Dido and made good progress on the Medieval old french "Silence," which is a massive disappointment.  It is the story of a girl raised as a boy, who becomes a jongleur than a knight before reverting to womanhood.  It has elements of Pheadre, and is vaguely Arthurian in that it references Tintagel, but it really isn't, since the King is "Evan."  Unfortunately it's extremely misogynistic, gender essentialist, homophobic, and racist against the Irish.  I plan tofinish it anyway, as it's an historical artifact.  I had a hard time dislodging Tavy so I could dress and attack the to do list.

So today I was expecting two out of town guests, some of my oldest non-continuous friends.  The one doing the scheduling was not exactly reliable.  So I did not get my hopes up too high.  Still, I put on one of my nice shirts and the best fitting of the fancy pants.  (The one I'd tried first was a size too small, confirming the remembered eccentric sizing).  Livia still disapproves of them, but she is no longer terrified of them so that's progress.

I had to do a pharmacy run, as the prescription wasn't ready Wednesday and it's a thing I'm not sure I had enough of for a wait until Monday.  While out I confirmed that the tire I have concerns about is unsafe, as I was suspecting.  It is terrifying, but it needs to go on the next month's problems list.  When I got back, I lunged and ate.

Then I started working on Gothmas stage three.  I had about an hour and a half, and made the assumption they would likely be late.  I worked in such a way that I could shift the bits i was working on out of the way at need.

In the even there was no need.  I expected them at five.  A call came 5:30ish, with the right area code, but it was just the Police Charity Scammer with yet another new number.  I got it all up, which was a whole extra layer of complicated as I had all the missing stuff we found during storage reorganization.  There were my share of the family ornaments my mom sent my first year out West, and all the things Skye and I accumulated in a decade together that I haadn't been able to find.  things from our families and friends, some more geeky ones we'd gotten each other.  I knew who made the origami and that the Legolas had been me to him and the origin of the cool gargoyle cats.  I can't for the life of me remember who made the dragon and the rose ones from the short list of likely people to have made them.  I remember someone making the two cute little stained glass things and being touched by them, but not who made them.

Clearly I should have labelled them like my parents always did, though I'd likely remember the origins of all of them if I'd not lost them for well over a decade.

I would have liked to see my friends, but I am as bad as my dad when it comes to sitting quietly, mesmerized by my own lights, so it was not a total loss.

UPDATE:  The other friend contacted me.  He didn’t turn up yesterday for a Friendsgiving dinner.  No word to them.  No word to me.

The other friend has some innocuous options, but he was thinking two dark ones, and I was thinking four (two of which were also the ones he thought of).  Look, we’ve both known him since we were teens.  Too well, really, hence me thinking 50/50 something might happen and they not show up.  Missing two days though, knowing him as well as we do, other friend is trying to decide if he should phone around to hospitals.

Fuckfuckfuck. I think we can rule out “flaked out,” especially when adding in new information from other friend.  Fuck!  Although one of the other fairly innocuous ones is still technically viable, I’d not bet on it.  Fuck!

And of course this sort of thing reminds me of that time Sky got murdered and it took a weekish for them to find his body, so I have a lot of emotions about it.  Missing friend knows this.  He was there when they told me they’d found Skye and he held me while I cried.

[transitverse]

Eggshells: Chapter 6

WORDS: 1104 CHAPTERS: 6/9 CHARACTERS: Aubrey, Kaveh CONTENT WARNINGS: Implied past abuse

Soundtrack: Clear Honey - Jetty Bones

You're sitting across from Aubrey when she runs out of painkillers.

You glance at her from the other side of the couch, because the rattling of the bottle sounds distinctly hollow; she upturns it completely, and the last two pills fall into her palm. You hear her swear under her breath as she discards the bottle and reaches for the glass sitting on the end table.

"You got through all of those already?"

"Yeah." Aubrey shoots you a look as she takes a sip of water and pops the pills into her mouth. Don’t question me, it says. But you have to, when the only way she could have burnt through them so fast is by maxing out her doses every day for the past week.

"Has it been bothering you that much? After this long?"

She doesn't answer. She turns her gaze away, swallows, and takes another sip of water to chase it all down.

"Aubrey?"

"No," she mumbles, still looking at the TV. You wait for a further explanation; she fails to deliver.

"So what's it for?" More silence. "Aubrey?"

"It's--other stuff, okay?" she snaps back, taking another swig of water like it'll excuse her from having to talk.

"What other stuff?" And nothing. God, if she's developing a dependency on top of everything else-- "Aubrey--"

"It's nothing. It's just... pain. It happens all the time."

"What pain?"

"I don't know, just, like, pain. Generally." She looks visibly distressed, now, as she puts her water back down on the table and sinks lower into her blanket pile. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. You can't fix it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it happened a long time ago, and you can't change that."

"Aubrey, what happened a long time ago?"

"Stop it." She shrinks into the corner of the couch and pulls the blanket up around the lower half of her face; though it muffles her voice, you can still hear it crack. "Stop asking about it."

The sudden fear in her voice trips you, and you stop, blinking. You didn't realise it was such a sensitive topic. Perhaps you should have.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry." You let the apology hang in the air for a minute, leaving her time to absorb it and for the tension to dissipate. It's not worth pursuing the past when your concern, right now, is her present state, and you don’t know that you’ll glean anything meaningful from interrogating her about her history. Once you feel like she's had enough time to cool off, you test the water with another, hopefully-less-invasive question.

"You said this happens all the time?" She refuses to look at you, and doesn't move, but reluctantly murmurs an answer.

"...Yeah."

"Is it--what is it? Where is it?"

"It's... everywhere. Anywhere. It moves. I don't know."

"Is there anything else that helps?"

"I guess, sometimes--If it's a specific place, then heat, or ice, or..." She trails off, shrugging her shoulders. "Hard to do that when it's all over."

"Right." You take a moment, again, to process everything. You wish you’d known. There was no way you could have, but you feel a vague, nagging sense of guilt nonetheless. "Well, I'll... grab you some painkillers when I go out. They won't be as strong as the prescription stuff, though. I'd say go back to medical and ask for more, but they'll probably start poking around and doing a bunch of tests if they think it's your side still giving you grief." And you don't need any kind of response from her to know that that is completely out of the question.

You run a hand back over your hair and sigh. "I think you should... still talk to the doctors, though. I know you don't like them," you add hastily when you see the look on her face, "But they might be able to come up with something. A long-term plan."

She continues to eye you warily. She looks like she wants to say something--but, ultimately, she doesn't; she uncurls just slightly and pulls the blanket back down from her face.

"Yeah. Sure. Maybe."

"I'm just saying, you... you shouldn't have to live in pain all the time. I mean-- Jesus, have you been coming to work like this?"

"I can still do my job." She spits the words out and scowls at you, but there's a hint of that all-too-familiar desperation in her voice. "It doesn't get in my way, if that's what you're implying."

"I’m not. But it's not about whether you can. It's about whether you should. And you shouldn't. You shouldn't have to." You turn your whole body towards her, now, and you'd put a hand on her shoulder if you didn't think she'd break your arm for trying. "There's ways we can manage this. I don't want you showing up every day and having to be on your feet for ten hours when you're hurting the whole time. That's not fair to you."

She gives you another look, but this one falls somewhere between surprise and confusion, like you're proposing a completely alien concept to her.

"Just give it some thought, okay?" you continue, when she remains silent. "I won't make you do anything, but I'm--I'm worried about you. You have a lot going on. If there's anything that might make your life easier right now--and this might--I think it's worth seriously considering it."

Aubrey glances away, shrugs, and then nods slightly.

"Sure. I'll think about it."

"Okay. I'm sorry I got pushy with the questions a minute ago."

"It's... fine." She shakes her head and shrugs again. "If they know, they--they won't stop me from going back to work, right?"

"No." Your answer comes quick and decisive. "You're not the first person to turn up with chronic pain. Plus, you said yourself, you've already proven you can still do your job, and I can vouch for that. Don't worry." You get a little nod in response, and Aubrey sinks down against the back of the couch, laying herself flat with her head propped up against the pillows.

"I'm so sick of being stuck here."

"I know. I’m sorry. I mean, I do have to go to the store, if you wanna get out just for a half hour. If you’re feeling up to it."

"I don't. That's the worst part." She laughs defeatedly and rakes her fingers down her face. "My legs hurt. Everything hurts."

"Maybe next time, then." You reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder--successfully, without her snapping your wrist like a twig in response. She closes her eyes and sighs.

"Yeah. Next time." 

***

Aside from a few bumps here and there, the rest of Aubrey's stay passes by relatively uneventfully. You take her back for a checkup ten days after her discharge; she's tense in the waiting room, but the nurse gives her the all clear and you're in and out again within minutes, much to Aubrey's relief. 

Your messages to her from work, letting her know you're still alive, become a simple part of your routine. She's steadily regaining her mobility. She stops wincing when she bends down; trips down to the laundromat to get her out of the apartment for a few minutes turn into short walks to the convenience store. She's iffy with dogs, you learn, as she eyes a big, clumsy-looking mutt passing by on the sidewalk, only to spend five minutes enthralled by a friendly neighbourhood cat that catches her attention on the walk home.

You still find her crying, some nights, but you learn to take it in stride.. She offers no explanation and you don't ask for one. A half hour spent soothing her so that she knows, for once, that someone is there for her is worth the sleep interruption that leaves you yawning at work the next day.

Though there are no further major incidents, you do continue to be concerned about her. It's hard not to be, when she's on the defensive at any perceived slight, or always expecting you to be angry at her, or paranoid about her absence at work and whether or not they'll take her back. You quietly hope that her impending psych assessment flags up her issues so that they can be addressed, properly, by someone who's actually equipped to do so. This is way out of your depth. You want her to get help. You want her to thrive here, not just scrape by, isolated and grappling with her demons alone.

Happy. You want her to be happy. She’s suffered enough in life. It’s time that changed. But she needs more than you have to give.

There are still days when she wakes up in pain, too, and they're harder to manage without her prescription meds, but the two of you do your best. Sometimes, it gets better; others, it lingers, despite your efforts. All you can do is keep the OTC pills coming and make sure there’s always an ice pack or heat pad ready to go.

(She admits, here, the one thing she misses about life with gangs: she never had any trouble getting hold of strong painkillers.)

When you return home from the gym one night, you almost bump into Aubrey in the hallway. She's got a mug of coffee in one hand and a snack bar in the other, a chunk of it already bitten off and still hanging between her teeth.

"Hey," you greet her, as you slide your sneakers off. "You good?"

"Mhm." She nods, quickly chews through her mouthful and swallows. "Yeah, I was just--just watching something."

"Watching what?"

"It's an old movie. Some animated thing." She looks… embarrassed? Uncomfortable, in some way, but it's hard to tell exactly how. "I used to… watch it a lot when I was a kid. I can turn it off, if you want to put something else on."

"No, no, it's fine," you assure her. "You carry on. There's nothing I wanted to watch. TV's all yours." She perks up, just a little bit, and wastes no time returning to the living room. You hear the TV start up again as you go about getting a glass of water for yourself; voices in a language you can't understand.

Curious, now, you exit the kitchen and lean against the living room doorway. You don't recognise the movie playing at all; it's not reminiscent of any of the mainstream animation studios you have a crude knowledge of through cultural osmosis. You're still no closer to placing the language, either, as you watch a woman in armour kneel before another that you'd guess is royalty. You can make out the subtitles clearly.

-And you would be?

-Your champion, Your Grace.  

"What is this?" you ask, as you slide into place on the couch beside an enraptured Aubrey.

"Knight Saviour Luna," she answers, after a moment, looking kind of sheepish. "I know it's tacky, but it's… I don't know. I like it."

"I've never even heard of it. How old is it?"

"2043. It's Serbian, actually, too, so it never got a ton of publicity in the UCAS." Well, there's the language mystery solved.

"How'd you find it?

Aubrey pauses, then shrugs. "We had a lot of immigrants living locally who ran their own shops. They used to import stuff like this. Then I got the--the cyberdeck, when I was older, and it's easy to dredge this stuff up on the Matrix, if you know what you're looking for. It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

“Huh.” Animation’s not your thing, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit interested in what’s going on on the screen right now. It obviously didn’t have a huge budget--the animation gets choppy in places, and there’s some very questionably-drawn backgrounds--but in a world choked by a handful of megacorps and their subsidiaries regurgitating the same repackaged visual media over and over, it’s at least a refreshing change of pace.

At the end, when the war is over, the knight and the princess stand on the balcony of the reconstructed palace. The knight takes the princess’ hand and kisses it softly, smiles on both their faces.

[rochellebuckleyhandmade]

This is another post where I just don’t know where to start.

I feel it is important to give you a little background so you can appreciate the enormity of what I’m about to share.

For those of you who don’t already know, I have acromegaly.  A rare pituitary tumour that causes all sorts of grief and problems (I’ll expand more on that in a later post).  I think it was about 2007 when my diagnoses was finally confirmed.  I say “I think”  because I have a dreadful memory. I like to blame the tumour for that one.

It was long before my diagnosis that I knew something was wrong. I don’t know how long the tumour had been living quite comfortably on my pituitary, some specialists believe it may have nested either after the birth of my first born or shortly after the birth of my second.  There’s no way to know for sure.  My first child was born in 1995 and my second was born in 1998 so it may have been around for some time.

I remember struggling terribly with depression and anxiety which really began or esculated after the birth of my first. It was really bad,  although there were extenuating circumstances,  every medical professional I sought help from told me to suck it up and be grateful for the beautiful little girl I held in my arms. Not even a mention of post natal depression. I can’t help but wonder now if that tumour may have been responsible to a small degree.

As the years ticked by,  the depression esculated exponentially and there didn’t seem to be much I could do to stop it or even ease it.

By the time I was working I had piled on a stupid amount of weight but I didn’t understand why.  My joints began to hurt, I ached all over and I was always tired. The job I had at the time was managing a not-for-profit that mainly provided free or low cost groceries to those who needed a hand up.  The store was located in an industrial building with concrete floors, tin roof, no heating,  no cooling and not much of anything else either.  Although I only worked two and a half days a week I was always exhausted, increasingly tired and so,  so sore.

Me almost at my heaviest of 253kgs

I tried for years to tell my doctor there was something wrong with me but again,  I was told I was just too fat and needed to lose weight. Problem was, I couldn’t lose weight.  I tried everything, every diet and exercise known to man at that time.  Exercising became just too hard.  The pain of simply walking was unbearable.  I begged my doctor to help but again and again I was told I was just too fat.

I tried to continue living my life but I couldn’t.  I had to quit my job because I could no longer walk,  stand or get any relief from the pain.

I finally decided to see another doctor and I remember at one stage telling him that I’m not aching because I’m fat and weight bearing. If that were the case, why did my hands,  wrists, jaw,  neck ache and burn and hurt so much especially since they’re not weight bearing.

To cut a long story short, my doctor could see that I was very unwell, despite every test returning negative results.  It was so disheartening and depressing. Why was I like this? What on earth is wrong with me?  I began to think it was all in my head.  Was this something I’ve subconsciously created to overcome past hurts and failures?  Surely past stress couldn’t manifest into something this bad.

Finally,  in 2007 I received a diagnosis. Acromegaly.  I sat in my endocrinologist office and wept tears of relief.  To know that it was not in my head and there really is an illness was one of the biggest reliefs of my life.

I travelled from Lake Macquarie near Newcastle to Adelaide in September 2010 just one day before my 36th birthday to have the tumour removed.  It was such an adventure.  I loved seeing more of this beautiful land in which we live and although I was incredibly ill,  I remained wide eyed and completely enthralled on our journey.

Here I am in Rundle Mall, Adelaide just one day before surgery to remove pituitary tumour.  I had a craving for fresh oranges at the time.

By the time I was ready for this surgery I was quite unwell. My weight had ballooned to over 200kgs (223kgs to be exact,  that’s 492lb or 35 stone). I had lost the feeling down my left side,  I could barely speak,  partly due to swelling of soft tissue and I could not walk unaided. My vision was deteriorating rapidly and I was struggling to see.  My hands stopped working and I could barely even feed myself. The tumour had wrapped around my carotid artery and invaded my cavernous sinus. The surgeon was convinced he would NOT be able to remove it entirely. I could no longer drive and I was forgetting everything.  I even forgot how to cook and I had almost no memory of my past. I used to spend evenings with my sister as she regaled me with tales of my children growing up because I just couldn’t remember.  My mind was empty.

By this stage I had been receiving monthly injections of Sandostatin LAR or Somatuline Autogel for the past three years (from the time of diagnosis until surgery). Gee did this stuff made me sick. My stomach hurt all the time,  I would spend a considerable amount of my day on the bathroom.  My hair fell out, my skin hurt,  and I had a collection of cricket ball sized lumps on my rump at injection site that would become very bruised,  itchy and lasted about three months each.

I felt like crap constantly.

The tumour was removed successfully and entirely by Mr Santorenos.  Despite being told that I would not make it through surgery,  mainly due to my morbid obesity,  I’m still here to tell my tale.  We were told,  since I was so over weight and so ill,  I could expect to be in ICU for up to six weeks and another twelve on the ward and in rehabilitation – that is of I even survived surgery and didn’t have a heart attack or stroke.

Here I am back on the ward after leaving ICU. You can clearly see the fashionable nasal tampon, vomit bag and towel to try to relieve my thumping migraine.

I was out of ICU within 12hrs and discharged from hospital five days later.

Then my challenges began. Again. My recovery was incredibly slow,  arduous and painful. Regrettably I thought that everything would just go back to how it was pre-tumour. Oh how wrong I was. Why didn’t someone tell me it would be so bloody hard?  I spent the next twelve months flat on my back in bed.  I put this down to over doing it after being discharged from hospital.  We traveled home via the Great Ocean Rd from Adelaide to Newcastle.  It was stunning, breath taking and totally divine, but I had diabetes insipidus as a result of surgery. Cerebral fluid was leaking from my nose and every time we climbed a small hill in our car my nose would bleed and leak fluid, not to mention my smell and taste had gone after my olfactory glands had been damaged during surgery. This meant I would never smell or taste again. Something that I would have appreciated being told about pre-surgery, even if just to psychologically prepare.

The beautiful Loch Ard Gorge on the Great Ocean Road. I managed to kill my good DSLR on this trip. Just being sick and clumbsy.

Just at the end of my twelve months of being too ill to get out of bed, where my children had to feed me, toilet me, do all of the housework and everything in between, my husband left. At the time, I never saw it coming. I went into shock, my blood pressure went through the roof and as a result I lost my eyesight. Completely. No one knew if it would ever return. It did three months later. Not only did it return but some four years later, my eyesight (an astigmatism and shortsightedness) has improved so dramatically I need to get a new prescription every twelve months. My optometrist believes I will not need my glasses at all soon.

There has been so much that has happened between then and now. Challenges, crap, really tough times, including an horrific single car MVA just over twelve months ago in which I broke my neck in two places, my collarbone, five ribs and a bone in my ankle. I’ve struggled terribly with depression and anxiety and have found it very difficult to hold down a job with the chronic pain I experience.

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Me in hospital trying to walk again after my accident

I recently left the job of my dreams. I was so incredibly crushed. I loved the job, my work, the people, clients, my boss and my colleagues. Unfortunately the workload became just too much and my body and brain could no longer cope.  It just did not end well and I went into shock and commenced another cycle of grief. I am incredibly thankful that this cycle did not last long, thanks to my family and wonderfully amazing and supportive friends.

I can’t deny that my life has been pretty darn challenging but I am here to give you all hope and hopefully joy in your heart.

You see, whilst I was laying in that hospital bed in Adelaide some five and a half years ago, I started a rather rudimentary bucket list. In all honesty I never, ever believed I would be able to check any items off my bucket list, given my health challenges and my lack of financial stability (due to being unable to work for so long and fork out on medical expenses).

A few weeks back, I experienced a few events and read some stuff that has really given me a kick in the pants. This was a culmination of events, including my beautiful boy being beaten by an unknown drugged young man, a friend posting an interesting letter written by an 18 year old to his father and a blog article that, along with a few other things have combined to change my life for the better.

As a result of these events and with enormous thanks to my amazing, supportive, encouraging friends and family, I am beginning to see my bucket list come to fruition. Please remember that I have been told time and time again that I would never walk again, by now I should have been confined to a wheelchair at best. I should not be able to talk and I would be incredibly lucky to have survived beyond my 38th birthday. This year I will celebrate my 42nd birthday and between you and me, I plan to celebrate many more.

Well, I am here to prove those doctors and specialists wrong and offer hope to my fellow Acromegaly sufferers, those who battle mental health, those who can’t find the strength to go on. You can do it. You really can. If I can negotiate my way through this thing we call life, so too can you. Please, I implore you, DO NOT GIVE UP, EVER!

So what is it that I can share here with you today that I have checked off my bucket list?

Wait for it….

My dear friend took me skydiving!

Yes, you heard right. Skydiving.

Now, to most of you this may not be such a big deal, but for someone with a chronic illness, someone who has battled anxiety, panic attacks, depression and bucket-loads of self doubt, Someone who is completely terrified of heights and even more so of flying, this is MASSIVE!

Check out that goofy grin that hardly ever leaves my face. My dive instructor was absolutely amazing and I cannot recommend the team at Skydive The Beach and Beyond, Newcastle highly enough. I cannot thank my dear friend Doug enough either. Without his constant support and belief in me, not to mention his spontaneous suggestion I attend with him the evening before over dinner with Bec, I would never have accomplished this dream. Heartfelt thanks to you Doug.

Yes it was raining, yes it was freezing but it was so flipping awesome I just can’t wait to do it again.

If I had listened to those most of those doctors, specialists and other naysayers, I would not have experienced one of the most amazing thrills of my life. I would not have checked another item off my bucket list, I would not have found the courage and strength to over come. I would not be here today offering encouragement and moral support to you.

Please do not ever give up on your dreams. I can completely understand that life can be one great big fat challenge, obstacle and barrier, but please try to not let it beat you.

This event took place just four weeks ago and I have so many other adventures to share with you since.

Stay tuned and find joy.

Please scroll down to the bottom of our page to leave a comment. We would LOVE to hear from you. 

Learning to Live Again – New Adventure #1 This is another post where I just don't know where to start. I feel it is important to give you a little background so you can appreciate the enormity of what I'm about to share.

[withoutbringingmedreams]

Eyewitness fic pt. 13

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Pt. 7| Pt. 8 | Pt. 9 | Pt. 10 | Pt. 11 | Pt. 12 or AO3 

Lukas cuts off his bike engine, but Phillip’s arms don’t move from their spot around his waist. His grip lingers—tightens, even—squeezing out one last sort-of embrace before they’re forced to separate.

It’ll be the last time he gets to feel Phillip’s touch for the next six hours. He rests his shoulders against Phillip for a split second before hopping off the bike, forcefully tearing himself away.

Mistake. His heart reacts to the loss of contact by missing a beat and then slamming repeatedly into his chest. How is he going to survive the day with Phillip so close and yet so far away?

Phillip moves more slowly to stand and pull off his helmet. His jaw is tight and hollow circles darken his eyes.

“You okay?” Lukas murmurs to him. Under his breath, of course, where the passing students can’t hear him, can’t put two and two together.

Phillip gives him a tight smile. “Yeah. I mean, okay enough.”

“Hey, Lukas!” It’s Simone again, waving him over. And Eric and Rose and all the rest of the usual suspects…except for Jake Gardner, thank goodness.

Lukas jerks his head at Phillip, indicating he should follow. And Phillip does that much, at least, but once they’ve reached the crowd his eyes drop to the ground and his hands stuff themselves firmly into his pockets.

Simone gives him a quick side-eyed look. As in, what’s he doing here? But Lukas must be more interesting to her because soon she’s fake-punching his shoulder. “How was the suspension, Floyd Mayweather?”

“Uh, it was fine. Mostly just had to do more chores…and I guess I was grounded.” God he’s so awkward. Never knows what the hell to say, and it’s only getting worse.

“Why’d you do it anyway?” Eric asks.

He waits for Rose to help him out, but she’s paying more attention to Phillip, who has started shuffling his feet while apparently studying the dirt on his shoes.

“Jake was talking shit.”

Phillip doesn’t look up from his toes. He’s back to being the weird loner kid, the guy with no real friends, the one the jackasses call fag behind his back.

A knot builds in Lukas’ throat. Time to get the hell away from here. “Hey, I gotta talk to my teachers about makeup assignments. See you guys later?”

Simone frowns, but steps aside to let him pass. Before he makes his escape, he manages to turn slightly and catch Phillip’s attention. “See you in third period.”

Phillip’s smile barely lifts the corners of his lips, but his eyes are grateful, and it’s something.

Baby steps.

The accomplishment—saying a relatively normal sentence to Phillip in front of curious friends—keeps him sane until the middle of first period. But Mrs. Decker’s droning voice somehow manages to sap his tiny flicker of confidence. She’s going on and on about the people and their responsibility in government. Action instead of talk, she says, and he’s so pathetic he’s actually drawing connections to his life.

Can he even consider his morning with Phillip an accomplishment? Sure, they rode to school together. People saw them. He said a few words to Phillip in public.

A few fucking words.

It’s nothing, really. He said more to Simone and she’s starting to annoy the hell out of him. How can Phillip be okay with taking his crumbs?

A tickle starts in the back of his throat again. He swallows hard to get rid of it.

If he’s stressing at having to sit in class and listen to stuff that seems both completely pointless in light of people getting shot at and murdered…and also weirdly relevant… how must Phillip be doing? Phillip’s still clearly hurting from his loss, he doesn’t know where he stands with Lukas, he’s shy and withdrawn around other kids at school, and he’ll have to wait two more periods to see if Lukas can summon the balls for a repeat performance of a one-sentence gift.

Fuck. Swallowing isn’t helping anymore. His chest is starting to ache.

He’s supposed to be paying attention. He’ll have to write an essay for Mrs. Decker to make up for his days of missed class. He’s supposed to keep his grades decent, clean up his image, and get himself a new sponsor. He’s supposed to be figuring out how to be a real person again. With Phillip. Somehow.

Hell, there’s twenty more minutes. Twenty more minutes of torture where he has to sit here and be still and keep tumbling over all the supposed-tos while also worrying if Phillip is okay, if he’s struggling to breathe, too…

He yanks out his phone under the desk and texts Phillip. Meet me on the roof. Now.

What? His phone buzzes back. I’m in class.

It’s important. He stumbles to his feet after his last text, making all twenty-three students and the teacher stare up at him. “Gotta use the bathroom,” he announces, and he must really still have some of those pity points because Mrs. Decker actually lets him go without a word.

By the time he bursts out the heavy metal door and into the crisp air, dread is starting to press at his lungs. God, not this again. He squats down and leans over, sinking his head to his knees.

He’s not going to flip out this time. No way in hell. He knows how to breathe. What was that thing Helen had done? In and out, in and out. You’ve got this.

“Lukas?” Phillip’s arm lands on his back. “Are you okay? Are you having another panic attack?”

His chest opens at Phillip’s touch, and air rushes in. Thank God.

He slowly stands back up, blinking away the last traces of dizziness. “Will you quit saying that? I don’t have panic attacks.”

Phillip frowns. “Well you look really pale.”

“That’s my natural color.”

No one could argue with that, really.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Phillip presses. He’s drawing closer. Close enough to kiss.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lukas manages a tight laugh, and he reaches out to squeeze Phillip’s shoulder.

“Then what was so important that I had to rush up here in the middle of class?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Lukas answers, and it’s not quite a lie. “Your first day back at school and everything.”

Phillip shrugs. “Okay. Sure. It kinda sucks, but whatever. So how come you were all hunched over when I got up here, and it didn’t even seem like you heard me the first time I called y—”

“Jesus Christ, Phillip, let it go!” If Phillip doesn’t stop worrying about him, he’s going to scream. He needs to worry about Phillip right now. “I told you I’m fine. I just got antsy, having to sit in class and pretend like everything’s normal. Like we didn’t survive a serial killer kidnapping us and shooting me and …and doing what he did. So I wigged out a little, so what. It’s probably just ‘cause it’s my first day back around lots of people without the meds.”

Both Phillip’s brows shoot up. “Meds? What meds?”

Oh, hell. He hadn’t meant to go opening that can of worms.

“From the hospital. From when I got shot, remember? They gave me a prescription to take for the pain.”

Phillip’s look softens, and he gently rubs at the wound from above Lukas’ shirt. “Shit, yeah. Does it still hurt?”

Leaning into Phillip’s touch makes everything feel better. “Yeah, a little.”

“Then where’s the medicine now?” Phillip keeps stroking the spot.

Lukas breathes deeply and closes his eyes to soak it all in. “My dad took them.”

“How come?”

“He was worried I was taking too many.” 

The gentle massage stops short, and Lukas’ eyes fly open. Maybe there is such a thing as too much truth.

Phillip’s jaw is clenched. That’s a bad sign. “And were you?”

“Was I what?” God, he’ll never lose that dumb defense mechanism, will he?

It only makes Phillip’s expression grow fiercer. “Were you taking too many pills.”

“I mean, not that many… 

Phillip storms a few steps away, thrusting his hands into his hair. “What the hell, Lukas? What the hell is wrong with you? You seriously think after everything I went through with my mom that I’m gonna stick around with someone else who wants to—“

“No, no.” He chases after Phillip and blocks him off from the door. “No, I’m not. I’m not doing that, I swear. I was a little messed up after everything and maybe I did use a few more than I was supposed to, but it’s been days now and I haven’t taken a single more pill. Even though my shoulder hurts. I’m just gonna take the pain, okay? I won’t… I won’t use any more. I promise.”

Phillip’s not having it. He shakes his head and withdraws again, folding his arms. “It’s not just that.”

“What is it then? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” The words tumble out too fast. Mrs. Decker would call it all talk. He’s still falling short on the action.

“You turn to everything else before me.” 

What? “I’m here with you right now. What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you were upset, and instead of coming to me, you decided to abuse pain medication, beat up some kid…you even talked to Helen before you told me what was going on.”

Oh.

“Why do you always choose me last?” Phillip’s voice is hoarse, struggling past emotion.

Lukas chews on his lip, buying himself time to come up with the right answer. There’s not much action he can take on a rooftop. All he can do is explain himself, and he’s never been too great at that. “Don’t you get it? I was supposed to be there for you, Phillip. You lost your mom, and I don’t remember all of how that feels but I remember enough to know it fucking sucks. I was supposed to be the strong one, and instead I was just a pathetic mess. I fucked everything up and I blamed myself and…and you deserved better.”

Phillip’s jaw finally unclenches. “You…you don’t have to be the strong one,” he says quietly.

Lukas arches a brow. “So, what, you’re gonna be the strong one?”

Phillip snorts, and his mouth actually quirks up in a half-grin. “Maybe neither of us is ‘the strong one.’ But maybe we can be stronger…together.”

Lukas blinks a few times. “That is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

They both burst into relieved laughter, drawing them back toward each other. Lukas reaches out and unfolds Phillip’s arms so he can hold him close, tuck his head in against Phillip’s neck and just rest there, secure in their embrace.

Maybe he can’t make it six hours without touching Phillip. At least there are ways to get the fix he needs.

The door to the roof swings open suddenly and they jump apart. Keith Horner, resident pothead, scratches his ass as he walks out to join them.

“Hey, dudes. Just gonna smoke some. You wanna?” He holds out a joint.

“Um, nah, we gotta get back to class,” Lukas says, fighting to keep a straight face as Phillip is giggling across from him.

“Yeah, man, cool.” Keith lights up, already ignoring them, and Lukas and Phillip scramble away.

They clamber down the steps, but before they reach the hallway, Lukas grabs Phillip’s shirt and yanks him into a kiss. He doesn’t let go, instead backing Phillip into the corner of the stairwell and making it clear this isn’t just some little smooch. This is enough of a fucking kiss—legs entwined, lips smashed together, tongues tangling—that they’re both going to need a minute to cool down before they can be seen in public again. 

“Come to my place after school?” Lukas whispers in Phillip’s ear, and maybe not-so-accidentally bucks up against his crotch.

“What about your dad?” Phillip is breathless and glassy-eyed.

“Shouldn’t be home for hours.”

His cocky grin spreads to Phillip, and it’s all the help he needs to make it through this day.  Heart to heart talks are important and all…but it’s about fucking time they got in another way to let off some steam.

[goseeastarwars]

My grandmother has Alzheimer's. It'd been about 5 years since she was diagnosed. My aunt decided to take her into her home when it became apparent that Gram couldn't keep track of where she was going while driving and wouldn't feed herself anything but whatever was readily available, often just candy on the table. This lasted less than a year, despite my grandmother's early stage of Alzheimer's. She would repeat herself, but reliably follow written reminders to take care of herself, so she wouldn't forget. At this point, my aunt had already decided that because she couldn't be bothered to keep things organized enough to help grandma function, Gram had to go to a nursing home. My aunt also cited baggage from her childhood as being too much to bear to take care of Gram after loudly volunteering to take her in. It's been easily 55 years since my aunt was a child. So my mother stepped up, the only one out of three other siblings to decide to take Gram in. She would already have Gram visit us and stay here every weekend. There were never screaming matches, and the only times my mother and grandmother would get upset would be times that her Alzheimer's had to be directly addressed. For two years, my mother had grandma here, and she was doing great. They go on golfing trips, Gram flew for the first time, before she was at a stage she wouldn't be able to remember right away, and Gram was doing great. Many of those days, her Alzheimer's was. Arely detectable. A stark contrast from what my aunt claimed my grandmother was like. Nearly a year ago, my mother was given an opportunity to take a great job with benefits and room to work up the ladder out of state. I live in a small town, with no options in my mothers field of auction and online sale listing software customer support, and the job she currently had was not doing anything to help her plan for her own future. By this time my grandmother was clearly falling deeper into Alzheimer's, but still functioning mostly on her own with the use of daily notes and gentle reminders. Assisted living was the goal, to allow Gram to maintain her independence while staying in the area she grew up and spent most of her life. Until there was an opening in the facility nearest, it was decided that Gram would remain here with my father and I while my mother moved 9 hours away for her necessary career opportunity. Before my mother moved, she was able to organize everything to be handled by the facility that we hoped she could move into in the near future, as they had a day program for seniors during normal working hours, where she had endless company, her prescriptions were handled, and she was fed. For some reason, my aunt decided that Gram should be in a nursing home immediately instead of being taken care of by her son-in-law and her granddaughter. At this point I should note that my aunt lives about 45 minutes away out in the back country, but with a clear and fully paved route to my town, where she and her family travel to go shopping a few times a month. My mother made the trip to pick up grandma when she was with my aunt every single week before she came to live with us. My aunt visited her own mother about once every three months for maybe a dinner outing, but more often just sitting in my kitchen for an hour talking about herself and the Dog Whisperer. She never offered to take grandma for a weekend, never offered to give my mother a break. She made it clear that she could not be bothered. My aunt threw such a fit, not about my grandmother needing to be with her direct family for care, but because my aunt decided instead of staying in the house that she had been in for 2 previous years, she should be in a nursing home. My aunt didn't want to take care of her instead of us. She wanted to dump her off for strangers to take care of, I can only assume to rid herself of the guilt over her own failings to take proper car of Gram. This disagreement over the living situation of my grandmother turned into a feud that ended with 2 of my mothers siblings disowning her as family. This led to a full year of my aunt claiming that she wasn't visiting her mother because she lived at my house and she couldn't stand to face me or my father. My aunt lives 45 minutes away and comes to town any way, but she hasn't even bothered to see her mother in half a year. 8 moths ago, my father went out of town to visit my mother over the 4th of July, and my aunt agreed to have Gram over for the weekend when asked, but only if she was dropped off. Everything seemed fine, on the Monday after the holiday weekend, my aunt was supposed to drop her off. This did not happen, my aunt decided, while having emails detailing the fact that her facility and daily program completely handle her medication and appointments, to just take grandma from her home her and put her in the facility near her home, out in the middle of nowhere. She came her to look for her prescriptions and grab more stuff grandma has. She was completely clueless about Grans day program, demanding to know where the rest of her prescriptions were. My mother has been completely transparent about everything she organized for her mother, from the mutual agreement from all siblings that my mother should have sole power of attorney over my grandmother, to updates after every appointment my grandmother had, to the grand plan of getting grandma into assisted living. Upon realizing that she couldn't actually just kidnap grandma, she just dumped her off without her weekly pill box, her weekend bag or anything. My father had to stop and pick up my grandmas belongings from their house, where my aunt and uncle would not face him, they had my cousin throw everything of grandma's in her bag without any kind of organization and drop it out on their front porch. My aunt and my other uncle, who lives 6 hours away and simply couldn't visit much began attacking my mother and father, demanding that she is put in a home immediately. Not that they would like to take care of her. My aunt was nothing but complacent and rude to my parents, which resulted in a long scathing email from my father, completely insulting her for her ignorance about both my grandmothers disease and the process we had begun to get her better care. Cut to this past month, my grandma has deteriorated all of a sudden. She hasn't been able to follow notes, she stopped eating anything we put in front of her, taking little bites and then saying she wasn't hungry and couldn't eat. She began spending all her time sleeping and skipping her day program. My father and I bother work during the day, when she would skip her program, she wouldn't have any breakfast or lunch. On weekends she would get ready for her program and sit on our front porch in her coat for hours waiting for her taxi to take her to her program on days it didn't happen. Without the means to supervise her throughout the day, and without an opening in assisted living, the only option available was to start the process of actually putting her in the Alzheimer's unit at the nursing home part of this facility. There was an opening immediately, it all moved incredibly fast and within a day's notice, Gram was moved in without a fuss. We made it clear to her what was happening, there were no tricks involved. My mother decided not to notify her siblings before the move. Now my aunt is incredibly upset that she wasn't involved, that she didn't get to help love grandma in, and that she didn't get to put her in the underfunded questionable facility closer to her. I don't understand how anyone can be so selfish and angry about people working toward the benefit of her mother. By keeping her at our home, my grandmother has had the benefit of taking advantage of the NY healthcare system, higher standards of care and staying in the town where she knows many people from her time as a nurse in our local hospital. My mothers relationship with her siblings that she had always been closest with seems to be ruined forever simply by stepping up and intelligently making what seemed to be the best call for my grandma's health. My relationship with my aunt and uncle and their families is also ruined by their open disrespect and attacks of my mother. It's insane, 6 years ago my uncles family, my aunts daughter, my mother and I took an amazing 2 week long trip together through Ireland and then over to London. There was no conflict then, and it was a wonderful time. It's so strange to see that in this short time, it could all crumble like it has, and over nothing but the specifics of how my grandmother is cared for. My grandma was never abused, and there was never any conflict in the time she stayed her after my mother moved. I feel absolutely distraught about my grandma being in a nursing home, and my only comfort is that it is right around the block from my home and that she will be able to socialize and have company all the time now. She loves to talk and listen to other's stories. She has a wonderful collection of old local postcards depicting the area long before anyone living can remember and she will show anyone that she can. She loves playing games, something she didn't get enough of with my dad and I. I'm very conflicted about nursing homes. I would rather have her home, but she wouldn't be doing well here any more.

[papermoth-bird-blog]

Mexico: The pals in Playa del Carmen.

I’ve never related more to being a person of Baltic bloodlines, than I have being in Mexico. Between my pale skin & the heat-- I have to take super extra precautions so I don’t exhaust myself. Even though I am doing my all time adult-best at wearing sooo much sunscreen, I am clearly not drinking enough water. Yesterday I kinda paid for it & was feeling quite ill. Man, I feel like I constantly have to have water in my hand just to keep up. I do realize I’ve never really been to a climate like this, and so, I suppose there are some adjustments to be made. Especially having lived in the Maritimes for over 6 years- where it rarely reaches temperatures close to 30. The remedy for me has been fruit- any and all fruit- as much as I can at all times. 

Katie & I spent our first few days taking it easy under the scorching heat. Both of our hair grew so big in curly, It would have stirred jealously from any 80s hair band. We ate at a cute little taco place the first nice. There was a man with dreads who pulled up right beside us and started loudly serenading us as we tried to eat. It was kinda funny in the end. For some reason I decided the thing to do was get a margarita- because “when in mexico”. With one sip I now fully realized any remaining affinity for alcohol had vanished from my system entirely. I am simply not interested in any kinda way. So I gave the massive thing away. 

When we got back to the apartment, Ramin (katie’s friend that we were staying with) was home. Ramin is like this big, tan, German Aquaman type human. He works as a scuba diving instructor, and so, has moved/traveled all over the world doing so. Katie & him had met in Guatemala years ago, and managed to reconnect in a few different locations over the years since then. He is friendly and open minded- yet still intimidating in the way Germans can be sometimes. 

The next morning we woke to Eli making his strange little cat noises at us from outside the window. We had to go get him because the apartment has like four different key/lock situations to get into. A bit excessive- we decided. On a side note- there seems to be so much fear mongering in/about Mexico, specifically geared towards tourists. It really is difficult to tell whether that is warranted in any kind of way. I tried not to listen too much, knowing how fear works & spreads. That being said, I was being safe & cautious & paying attention to my surroundings always. If not for “stranger/danger” purposes, certainly for the fact that drivers here are absolutely chaotic (although maybe not as bad as South America). 

Eli & I went to a cute little cafe called cafe choux choux, eager to get out of the house. We stayed there a long while partaking in many breakfast items & some fancy lemonades. Even the fancy places here and still affordable, even for someone on a budget like me. The cafe was clearly the place that a lot of ex-pats gravitated to. The group that sat beside us flickered between speaking spanish, then english, then french, then german, depending on who came up to greet them at their table. We stayed for a long while, basking in the atmosphere & playing on our computers.... and mostly waiting for Katie. We wandered over to another cafe called BiOrganico & had some lunch. Katie & I then wandered off to explore the market area of Playa Del Carmen.

We were in search of a few things neither of us had- sun glasses, sun screen, shorts, sandals. OKay- I know that seems like almost everything you need for a trip to Mexico, but to be fair I had absolutely no idea when I left for my trip that I would end up here. Happy that I am, but my bag was not packed according to that. Actually even looking at the wool sweaters in my bag gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can try my best to set the scene of Playa to the best of my ability- but I should perhaps preface it by saying that at one point, this was a natural paradise. First there were small rental houses, then hotels, then bar and bars and bars. These days there are McDonalds & Subways & Forever21s. Which feels weird, of course. It’s one of the most rapid & evident gentrifications I’ve ever witnessed. But in many ways, I realize my complicit behaviour in all this- I probably wouldn’t have ended up here without it. Although it’s probably what I least enjoy about it. As you walk down the street everyone is trying to sell you something- of course they are- Tourism is basically the only driving industry out here. Especially being a woman, you get all kind of weird comments like “You need this” “don’t get lost” and the most classic “Do you need a Mexican Boyfriend.” Katie was obviously quite angsty with all the comments. I tried my best to tune them out & live in the happy little peaceful world in my head.

The plant life is beautiful & so too are the birds. In playa del carmen, however they are groomed & tamed in a more manicured way. Woven in amongst the huge heaps of concrete jungle that has been superimposed on the jungle paradise of the Yucatan Penninsula. I won’t say it truly overwhelmed me, having just spent so much time in much bigger cities. I understand how it could, though. Especially with the added trickiness of the language barrier (though many folks do speak english). Katie & I continued to stroll around, stopping in to buy water at many points. We dared not sit down, mostly because the public benches were metal (WHY). We wandered over to get groceries and ate more tacos. Eli & Ramin both joined us- all of us sweating profusely, slowly stripping down into half-dressed states. Not in a sexy way. In a very, very sweaty way. Which was especially pleasant considering the extremely feeble water pressure in the apartment that made showering a challenge. 

We woke early in the morning on the 3rd day. The early morning is the most reasonable time to go out, without a doubt. By 10am it is already quite hot & doing anything other than chilling out, is less appetizing. We walked over to the beach to greet the rising sun & went for a swim. While wading in the growing waves, Eli told me all about the cheap healthcare here. He said loudly that I should try to get contacts here. I agreed- that would be great! Not two minutes later, as we laughed about something else, I suddenly got hit in the face with a big, aggressive wave. I felt my glasses fly off my face & over my head. The water was particularly thick with grey & seaweed. Though we combed through the water. There wasn’t much hope. It seemed the comments earlier about contacts had been taken as a dare from the universe. So I bumbled around without glasses back to the apartment to fetch my extra pair. 

Eli and I went to the glasses store later that day- he speaks Spanish which made the interactions a bit easier to manage. Although the two places we went to didn’t have my prescription in stock. It would take five days to get them,  so we decided it was best to wait until we got to Tulum to get them. But I have to say- I didn’t quite realize how much more affordable medical treatment is in mexico. For my contacts- the exam was FREE and three months worth of lenses were 48 dollars. I now understand medical tourism. It isn’t like it’s sketchy either. All the places we went to were clean & professional & so so friendly. Despite my blindness, the whole experience wasn’t stressful in the least. 

I will say I could feel Katie getting stressed. I mean I think it was a lot of things. Her personal life as of recently, has been super emotionally complicated. As she also had a bout of skin cancer not long ago- the sun has been stressing her out. She’s been staying in the apartment a lot as to how avoid it, but also I think she still feels overwhelmed by the “spring break” vibes in Playa. The apartment is small, and so at a certain point we certainly started to bug eachother in ways. It came to a head when we were supposed to go down to the beach for Danielle Moore’s ritual. She had wanted me to take more leadership in regards to it. I wanted to give her her space as she had clearly been in a grumpy mood all day. On top of that she refrained to the fact that she felt weird about the ritual all day. It resulted in us being entirely cross with each other at the beach, ducking between tipsy strangers & me eventually crying out of frustration. We decided it didn’t feel right to do a scared ritual in an emotion state like that. On top of that, we clearly had some stuff to talk through & so we went home and did that. We came to a place that felt nice, which was relieving for sure. Katie & I have never fought like that. I’m really glad we can still talk through it. We decided to do it in the morning- the beach would be empty then & we would both be cooled off (physically and emotionally). 

It did actually feel like that was the way it was supposed to go. We were mostly silent throughout the whole ritual, though we started it with a prayer- one we learned from the ashram. We made a mandala in sand with the flowers we bought & other materials we found on the beach. Then we sang a few of Danielle’s favourite songs. Doing the ritual felt so private in an internal world kind-of-way, but connected to all the friends & communities that knew her & loved her. Being a way from the physical communities felt difficult. I did what I could to stay connect & support the effort. I spent some computer time a talking to others organizing & fencing some tech-difficulties when the page went down. It was powerful & healing to feel connected in the small ways during this time. And to see so many talking power & inspiration to making the world better after such a terrible event. Mostly though, my attempts at support were done out of love- for Danielle, but also for Kluane. I wanted to be able to do anything I could support her in the ways she was grieving & working through that grief.

Earlier that morning- even before the sun was a a light deep in the horizon, Katie woke up to call Klu as she boarded her plane in Winnipeg. Klu herself said she was surprised she found it so difficult. Kluane has always been an avid & regular traveller, but I too of course understand that the circumstances of airplane travel have changed so much. Especially considering Klu was leaving from the Winnipeg airport, the same Danielle had left from only days earlier. My heart ached for the situation- but I knew that she was well taken care of. The flight attendants all knew & supported her throughout her journey. Katie went to the airport to pick Klu up, after we ate breakfast together at a downtown cafe. It was good for us to take time apart for a few hours & also I knew Katie would be there for Klu. Apparently when Klu came out, she was wearing a big Christmas sweater complete with Reindeer & Holly, as well. I love that through anything- these two women in my life still find anyway to make us all laugh.

After quite a bit of waiting, tidying & other bits and bobs on my end, the crew eventually returned to the apartment, ready to move onto Tulum. They picked up a fellow traveller named Geoffroy from Montreal & so we all piled into the car with all our luggage, cranked the AC and headed for the highway. 

On the drive we all talked about love & life- of course. And caught up with eachother in the ways that aren’t always easy over technologies. We listened to country songs on Katies phone between checking directions- as the sux cord wasn’t working in the car. When we finally got to Tulum, we spent a lot of time in the grocery store, where Eli eventually met us. I am still amazed at how inexpensive all the food is here. I thing that Eli kept reminding us all of was that Mexicans love their sugar. I guess I didn’t really realize how much until I tasted some of the items. I was desperate for a bit of ice cream in the car and so we Mcgivered one out of a lid & I ate pretty much a whole pint to myself. 

We rode around for a short time trying to connect with a few friends before getting to our house. There were some funny moments that involved various chain reactions of annoyed-ness. “I think he’s annoyed I’m annoyed at him” Eli said as we chased after Alex’s speeding car. As we sat waiting for Eli, Klu and I got a little over excited about a particularly lovely old chevy truck that we enthusiastically jumped out of our car to take a picture with, before realizing the owners of said truck were right there. We share a love for this one particular Femme-Queer instagram account called @Truckslutsmag. One day, we said we will be on it. That day is not now however- haha. Later, on our way to our house at long last, this truck full of Mexican tradesmen speed alongside us on the highway, pointing at us & the car. We didn’t know what the heck was happening, until we finally put the dots together that Katie’s phone was not in fact in the car, but instead on the roof of the car as we speed down the highway. We agreed something strange & silly was in the air. It seems there seemed to be a resistance that had built up, that hadn’t been there until this week. I suppose mercury is in retrograde, but I’m sure there is more at play for whatever reason. 

The house we are staying at it so beautiful. The outside is the most perfect eggyolk yellow colour. The rest is painted in warm oranges & reds, with details or light blue, white & dark wood colours. The main room is open concept (although it doesn’t carry acoustics well). There is so much space- we almost immediately went on to plan how we could come back & stay here with more friends in the future. Every room has a balcony. The roof top is easily accessable & oh so perfect for dance parties. The property has pretty flowers & desert plants nestled in beside the pool & house itself. When sitting by the pool, all sorts of birds come swooping in- especially these beautifully delicate flying swallows. Swiftly after dropping our bags in our respective rooms, we jumped in the pool naked. ...Only to later discover the owner of the house has security cameras all over the place. We laughed for a second, but promptly messaged him to see if he could turn them off while we were here. 

So far, I have managed not to get burnt. Which is a win for sure- seeing as I tend to burn extremely easily. I haven’t spent that much time in the city of Tulum itself, although I did go into town to get my contacts. The town of Tulum already feels much more low-key (in the SPRING BREAK kinda-way) than Playa del Carmen felt. The vibe is much more bohemian- health/healing type-people & shops. I mean it is strange though, it has that gentrified feel to it too though. Fancy pantsy, tourist/ex-pat places sit right next to little shacks held together with ropes. It’s an interesting experience in that way.

That being said- at the house at least- I haven’t felt more “I’m on vacation” feels since starting this trip. It feels weird to do nothing. I guess I’m enjoying it- but not more than I do doing stuff. I worry that I will loose my motivation to do anything at all. The heat has made me groggy & I’ve been falling a sleep in various places. That being said, I’m feeling more reclusive- Katie & Eli have gone to various ecstatic dance events- but I don’t feel terribly social. 

Having contacts has been a game changer though! Being able to see without anything on my face has felt really freeing. Although, I am still not great at putting them in & taking them out. But there is so much potential with having them! I can go in the pool & put my head under water without worrying! I can wear any costume I want without being confused! Also, so some reason I feel it is suddenly more appropriate for me to get a really weird hair cut. The world is my oyster, really. It may seem over dramatic- but after being bound to glasses for over a decade, to have my face back in my possession is freeing.