#I’ve had 3 meltdowns already this week

[theadhdgoblin]

[tiktaalic]

catching fire dash simulator

finnicksgirl Follow

my streams have been cutting all season omfg what is going on

caps4finnick Follow

cinnagirl3000 Follow

anybody heard from cinna lately?

plutarcheology Follow

Plutarch Heavensbee circa 2282

revolutionarykatniss

As if it’s not ENOUGH that yall wanna fuck the most morally bankrupt man alive who is more than complicit because he gets paid to live in luxury to ORCHESTRATE the deaths of innocents so that they’re a spectacle and don’t have the option to die even semi peacefully. as if that’s not enough. You wanna fuck him when he’s ugly?

caesarflickerwoman Follow

anyone else still thinking about how caesar and peeta were kinda ..

czrflckmn

Aren’t you the one who had the week long meltdown about peeta being overfamiliar with him

caesarflickerwoman

Well you see I’m gay and a man now

theeclove Follow

already tired of this fucking season of everlark -_- idgaf about the fucking fog

siblingvictors

DISTRICT ONE GONNA SEND THEM A CANCELLATION NOTICE!! #CASHMEREGLOSS4EVER

czrflkmn Follow

everyone looooooves to act like NOTABLE cishet peeta is so gay w caesar as if his gay cohost isn't right there.... slaying in a wig..... sending yearning glances caesar's way right before the camera cuts......

johannadykeson Follow

tbh she’s got the WORST taste in allies idek why i continue to stan. girl MAGS?

#my girl going to get slorn :/

katnissgirlsmakedo

She is choosing with her HEART she chose to save peeta in the games REMEMBERRRRRRRR she’s literally a lovergirl to the core

#lovecore #heartcore #truelove

lucygraydotcom Follow

Caesar flickerman kidn if a laughing gnome. Reblog

finnickforever Follow

I’ve supported finnick through a lot and defended them and I’ve always been proud they're from my district but honestly they went way too far by doing the salute during the interview. I can only hope that they just got caught up in the moment with everyone else doing it and obviously it’s a stressful situation but I don’t think I can continue endorsing them. I’ll be changing my url this week.

divorceekatniss Follow

hey guys i know times are tough for everyone and the capital has really cracked down but my mutual @divorceepeeta got flogged the other day and could really use some help. v3nmo here. anything helps #signalboost #mockingjay

disabledmags Follow

Tbh the baby is the saddest thing I've ever heard </3

peetaspride

Another citizen falling for capital propaganda. It's so glaringly apparent that this is made up to draw in views. The tributes undergo extensive medical examination prior to the games. They would NEVER let a pregnant woman compete.

disabledmags

As if killing children has ever stopped them before?

#We all saw him fall to protect her stomach before they even started the victory tour #Is it that ridiculous to believe two newlyweds fresh out of a life or death situation would celebrate a little carelessly?

peetaspride

If you think even the marriage is real you're stupider than I thought. Peeta spends every interview begging us to see his truth. The capital is shamelessly silencing him and "the baby" is a distraction.

peetasbabymama Follow

URL CHANGE!! faggotpeeta->peetasbabymama

cupcakeeverlark

this isnt funny. peeta's a real person with real feelings. it will never be funny to call someone a f***** as a joke. how would you feel if my url was f*****peetasbabymama?

peetasbabymama

ok

district420

isnt cupcakeeverlark literally prez snow's 12 yr old granddaughter lol

tendinghiswounds

OOMF IS 12???????????

everlarklovechild

the age is the problem here?

marriedeverlark Follow

Canon url 🎉🎊💅😁🥰♥️

beeteemp3 Follow

New content of my favorite tribute 😁😁😁

3ffietrinket

Girl there’s a 96% chance they die ?

peenick Follow

getting reports from the presidential banquet that Peeta looks gay as fuck

3v3rlark Follow

ik peeniss has been flagging w the rehearsed speeches but did anyone else see the way they looked at each other in the censored district 11 speech

rues-song

you’re STUPID she’s a capital pawn AND i fucked your mom while you were busy looking for illegal streams

senecacraneofficial Follow

rip seneca you were so babygirl </3

plutarchbaby69

so now you think we can’t fuck old men?

#this fandom is so ageist #this is prob what I get for blogging about thg tbh since # it’s literally about kids. Some of you ppl need to grow up

[heaven4lostgirls]

July (E.M)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warning: toxic relationship, yelling, angst, breakup, eddie is a dick, eddie meltdown

summary: based off of the song ‘july’ by noah cyrus

word count: 1.1k

a/n: was in the mood to write some angst so here you go! this is kind of heavy so proceed with caution, also new theme anyone?

“I’m sorry Eddie! Just listen to me please” you plead as he continues to storm through the door of your shared apartment. He’s seeing red and your body is filled with anxiety, this is not how you imagined your birthday evening going.

“How am I supposed to listen to you when that’s all I’ve been doing this entire evening?! It’s like you didn’t even want me there” he cries as he cracks open another bottle of beer and slinks onto the couch. He had spent the better part of the evening making his usual jokes, often at your own expense and you tried to take it with a pinch of salt, but you were so tired of being the butt of the joke.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Eddie, all I’ve asked is that you stop making jokes about me like that-”

“No! what do you did was make me look like an asshole in front of your friends, I’m always the bad guy when you’re around them, even Chrissy see’s it!”

There it is. The entire fucking reason this conversation happened. Eddie was always bringing up Chrissy in your presence, how often could you hear the name of another girl leave your boyfriends mouth before you had enough? The answer? Right now.

“I’m so sick of you bringing up Chrissy whenever we argue Eddie! She is not your girlfriend! I am!” you cry shamelessly as you explode in front of him as he already looks completely over the conversation. You don’t have it in you to keep having these arguments.

“Why am I never enough for you?” your voice cracks and Eddie’s indifferent expression fades when he realises this isn’t your usual arguments, not once have you ever questioned his love for you and his heart drops to his stomach as he realises this just may be your breaking point.

“Wait, wait hold on sweetheart-”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore Eddie” you sniffle, and your hands shake as you wipe your tears. Eddie shakes his head vehemently and tries to reach out for you, but you step away from him. He’s sick to his fucking stomach. He spent most of the argument angry, so sure of himself that you were in the wrong but as of right now, he’s not so sure.

“Let’s just talk this through o-okay? Please let’s just have a conversation” he pleads as he anxiously begs you to listen to pathetic reasons before you decide to walk out on him.

“I can’t Eddie, not when I’ve spent the last 3 months lying in bed alone as you throw back beers watching tv with Chrissy on the phone.” You tell him and watch as his expression turns fearful at your impassive yet pitiful gaze at his trembling form.

 “I waited for you” your voice cracks alongside Eddie’s heart. “I waited for you to climb into bed, tell me you love me, that I was enough for you, and you never did” tears roll silently down your face and Eddie looks close to bawling.

His eyes fill with his own tears at the reality of losing you,, he’s blocked out the noise surrounding him as he purely focuses  on your fragile form, your makeup is smeared and your hands are shaking, he remembers how he used to hold you, be your sense of comfort when the anxiety took over and now he’s become the sole perpetuator of the same monster’s  he swore he’d protect you from.

“Please baby- please just let me fix this okay? Let me fix us!” he probably  looks pathetic on his knees as he tries to pull you into him, you resist but his shaking and sobbing form is enough to let you relent and place your hand on his head as you turn your face to the ceiling, willing the tears to stop.

“Do you remember what you told me when you saw Chrissy at the bar last week?” you whisper quietly to Eddie’s shaking form, he sniffles and shakes his head, looking up to you with red rimmed eyes.

“I asked to leave because I felt uncomfortable and you told me to go, said you’d meet me at home” you chuckle bitterly. Every single comment Eddie had made to you in the last 3 months almost came bubbling out of you, yet you refrained.

“I’ve had my bags packed since then” you confess to him and watch as his face drops, knowing you’ve spent the last week planning on leaving him. “I needed you to tell me to leave, I would’ve stayed if you didn’t say that, and we would’ve carried on being miserable.”

Eddie shakes his head, that’s not true, you two weren’t miserable, right? Sure, you fought but all couples did that, it was normal! At least Eddie thought so, you didn’t really mean that he made you miserable, any minute now you’d hug him and tell him you were overreacting and he’d hug you so tight you’d do that little squeal-giggle you do, then he’d take you to your shared bedroom where he’d lay you down and tell you how much you meant to him, how much he needed you. He would love you right, he promises to make all that true as soon as this is over.

However, that doesn’t happen, in fact, you let go of him with a sad smile and make your way to the bedroom only to return seconds later with two packed duffle bags. Eddie’s ears ring as he tries to shake himself out of his anxious stance. Do something! Say something! Anything! You can’t let her leave like this! His mind screams at him, he stays still.

Watching as you make your way to him and kiss his forehead, he sucks in a sharp breath when he realises this is goodbye. “I truly hope you find someone that loves you better than I did” you whisper, and he winces. Nobody would ever be able to love him the way you did, unconditionally, even when he fucked up, you loved him until he took your love for granted.

Somehow through all of this, you hold no animosity to Eddie, you feel at peace for once as you walk to your car. Finally leaving behind the jail you found yourself in, it feels freeing, and you can’t help but let out a hysterical giggle.

However, upstairs on the couch of your once shared apartment, Eddie lays shaking and crying on the floor, holding your pillow to his chest, chanting continuously “wake up, it's just a dream, she’s coming back. Wake up, it's just a dream, she’s coming back.”

[quinnysnursery]

[👻🎥] you're an angel & i'm a dog | sam and colby one-shot

paring : little!colby brock x cg!sam golbach

summary : the comfort to the hurt (sequel to bad dog)

warning/extra tid-bits : healing from an emotionally and physically abusive relationship, lots of tears, panic attack, nightmares

word count : 1431

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (x's on the bottom are by @saradika-graphics)

a/n : i'm aware the lyrics don't perfectly fit the scenes but i tried my best okay guys (sorry for any typos, i'm just a girl!)

You’re an Angel,

Sam had stopped by for a surprise visit, Colby was ecstatic, Jennifer was not.

It started out fine. Sure, Colby knew he was in for the scolding of his life when Sam returned to LA but he missed Sam way too much to be worried about the impending punishments he’d receive.

Jennifer managed to make it to the second night of Sam’s stay before chucking yet another glass at the man in an act of blind rage. Sam heard from the upstairs guest room- of course, and called the cops.

That’s what got them here.

I’m a Dog

Colby choked out a sob, clinging onto the blonde man’s hand as red and blue lights flashed around the neighborhood. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you colbs.” Sam assured, keeping his best friend within arms reach.

Both men’s statements had already been taken, and the EMT’s had already cleared Colby of any physical damage. An arrest had been made and that was it, Colby’s daily nightmare was over. Jennifer Akins was arrested for domestic violence against Colby Brock.

The brunette man knew he should’ve been happy about it, ecstatic even.

But as Sam cleaned up the shattered glass on the floor and a now-regressed Colby sat on the marble countertops, he couldn’t help but feel a new sense of loneliness. Sure, Jennifer was probably the shittiest caregiver in the world…but she was Colby’s caregiver.

She was the first person who called Colby “her little one”. The first person to read him bedtime stories. She was his first caregiver, and Colby missed her.

Or you're a dog 

Sam knew the little sitting in front of him had seen enough for a lifetime. His heart broke for his friend, had Sam known the horrors that were Jessica’s actions, he would’ve done everything in his power to keep Colby in LA.

The dark-haired little yawned, reminding Sam that he was supposed to be responsible for his best friend. 

“Tired?” Sam asked gently, his heart breaking as Colby flinched at the silence being broken. Colby nodded sheepishly, earning a small hum of acknowledgement from the blonde.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” Sam smiled, offering his hand to the little. Colby blinked at him, confused- it had been forever since Colby was put to bed by someone else.

Sam figured as much, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care how long it took for Colby to be comfortable receiving love, Sam would be by his side every step of the way.

and I'm your man

Healing a traumatized little was easier said than done, that became incredibly clear within the first week of moving Colby back into him and Sam’s LA home.

“No!” Colby yelled, pushing Sam’s gentle hands away. Sam was only trying to stop him from tugging at his hair, but that didn’t matter to the little- at least not right now. Colby didn’t want comfort, comfort still wasn’t something the little was used too. It was unfamiliar, unfamiliarity was scary.

“Buddy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” The blonde tried explaining, both men falling victim to frustrated tears. Colby choked out a sob, hitting the couch cushion next to him. “Colbs, can we use gentle hands?” Sam tried, keeping his hands to himself this time. The little sniffled, pausing as he processed the words said to him.

If Colby wasn’t using gentle hands, was he using mean hands? This thought made the little want to curl up in shame. 

Jennifer used mean hands, was Colby just as bad as her?

You believe me like a god

Despite the meltdowns and countless tear-stained shirts, Sam wasn’t giving up. Colby needed him, or maybe Sam needed Colby to know he was worthy of love. 

Pure, unconditional love.

“Is it good?” Sam smiled at the little who was humming happily to himself, chocolate ice cream dripping onto the tesla’s leather seats. That didn’t matter though, Colby had a genuine smile on his face. “Mhm!” The little beamed.

The car ride home was filled with plenty of unapologetic giggles. 

That night as Sam was about to slip out of Colby’s room, under the assumption that the little sprawled out next to him had been asleep since the final bedtime story, the blonde haired man heard a sleepy voice call out. 

“Sammy, ‘tay…” 

So he did.

I'll destroy you like I am

Colby knocked repeatedly on his best friend’s room door, panicked tears flooding down his cheeks. “Come in!” Sam called from behind the door, unaware of the brown-haired man’s emotional state.

“S-Sam,” Colby choked out, his headspace taunting him. He wanted to slip, he needed to slip but right as he went too- he’d had a flashback. Resulting in his current panicked state.

Sam instantly sprung into action, “Hey…hey, what’s going on?” He asked, knitting his brows together as he stood up off his bed. The blonde wasted no time helping his friend sit down, “Deep breathes.” He reminded the taller man.

A sob caught in Colby’s throat, “I-I don’t want her back.” He thought out loud. It didn’t take Sam long to figure out who Colby was speaking about, “She’s not coming back, I promise.” He soothed. 

Colby nodded, trusting his friend’s words as truth, Sam hadn’t ever lied to him before.

When Colby finally calmed, he found himself lying atop Sam’s bed, the blonde running gentle fingers through his hair. “M’ sorry I bothered you.” The little mumbled, voice hoarse from sobbing just moments prior. 

“You didn’t bother me,” Sam reassured, “I’m really proud of you for coming to get me.”

I'm sorry I'm the one you love

Sam smiled proudly as he peaked at the crayon-drawing that the brown-haired little was working on, mac and cheese boiling on the stove behind him. “Is that Jake and Johnnie?” The blonde joked, earning a lighthearted whine from Colby.

“Noooo,” The little drew out, “...’s us.” Colby shyly smiled, despite the bundle of nerves in his stomach. Sam beamed, both internally and externally. “Me and you?” He asked, despite knowing the answer. Colby nodded meekly, “M’ sorry, ‘s not that good-” 

“Nono!” Sam quickly disagreed, bending slightly to meet the little’s eyes. “It’s perfect, should we put it on the fridge?” He asked, his heart fluttering as he saw a twinkle of the old childlike wonder that little Colby used to have in the brown-haired man's eyes. “Yeah!” Colby excitedly chirped.

Both boys worked together to hang the drawing, Sam holding the paper against the cool metal and Colby placing the magnet they’d bought from the Stanley Hotel almost 5 years ago down to hold it in place.

Sam wrapped his arms around the little, mumbling about how it looked “perfect”

No one will ever love me like you again.

Colby’s legs carried him before he could recognize what was happening. He’d had a nightmare, which wasn’t uncommon but that didn’t make them any less scary.

This one had been just like the rest, Jennifer somehow taking Colby away from Sam.

It dawned on Colby as he passed a window that it was late, maybe around 3:00 am. That didn’t stop him though, the little marched right through Sam’s bedroom door- tears falling down his cheeks.

“D-Dada,” He called out, much to little to chicken out of giving Sam such an important title. The blonde man woke up immediately to the sound of someone in his room, his heart instantly calming when he realized it was Colby. “Hey bud…what’s going on?” He asked, opening up the covers- allowing the little to slide into his arms. 

Colby simply sniffled, wiping his red eyes. “Bad dream?” Sam theorized, earning a painful whimper from the little. Sam cooed with sympathy, brushing the little’s hair in a soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, it was just’a dream.” He reassured, rubbing circles into his distressed friend’s back. “Don’ wanna go with Jenny, wanna ‘tay with dada…” Colby sniffled, his breathing hitching as he spoke. Sam paused just for a second, his own eyes welling with tears.

Dada.

Colby trusted him enough to give him that title.

“Dada’s not gonna let anything happen to you bud,” Sam kissed the top of his head, “Tomorrow we’ll take up and have pancakes, and you won’t ever have to go back with her.” He added, holding his boy close.

After a plethora of different reassurances and a promise that they'd get ice cream again, Colby fell fast asleep in Sam’s arms- knowing he wouldn’t have to live in fear of Jennifer, because his dada wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

taglist !! :

@beesonhoneytoast @mattssturnz @mattsturniologf444 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @cherry-red-heart @https--roman @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx @tyummyz

[jomiddlemarch]

let’s call this a win-win

33 hours, 2009 miles, 27 Chicken McNuggets, 2 mint Oreo Blizzards, one ill-fated round of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.

It was a fucking miracle the truck hadn’t broken down on the way.

“It was a fucking miracle the truck didn’t break down—” Joel said, pulling out Sarah’s floral quilted duffle bag first from the pile of luggage. The last few miles through the woods, he’d muttered his mother’s favorite prayer to St. Christopher and to Tommy’s mechanic friend Al. They were close enough to walk but that was not how he wanted to arrive, especially when he imagined what it would take to keep his daughter from a sugar-crash induced meltdown trudging through the forest.

“Dad! Language,” Sarah scolded, stretching out the a in Dad for maximum guilt-tripping. She had to uncross her arms to take the bag from him but she kept her cherry Chapsticked lips pursed. Despite his fatigue and the ache in his lower back from the crappy motel mattress, he couldn’t help grinning at her expression, her ribbon-tied pigtails, her carefully curated tank top and jean shorts.

“Put it on my tab,” he said. “The curse jar’s going to pay for your college and study abroad at this rate, not just those boots you want so badly.”

“I need those boots,” Sarah said.

“Save that for Uncle Tommy. He’s a soft touch,” Joel said. He took a look around the parking lot. Packed dirt overlaid with gravel, it was ringed by towering pine trees, the cabins of the camp hidden from view. There were a couple of non-descript sedans, a shiny black minivan with far too many bells and whistles, and two other pick-ups, both in better condition than his. No vanity plates though, which he took as a good sign. He got the rest of their bags out and slung his guitar case over his back. He’d been told to head to the main lodge to meet the camp’s director but a woman was already walking towards them, so he nodded to Sarah to stay put.

“Welcome to Camp Firefly. I’m Meghan Williams, the camp nurse, it’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to shake and Joel was relieved that her grasp was warm and properly firm but not intended to suggest she’d break anything. She wore drab cargo pants and hiking boots, her dark hair tied back and covered with a red bandana, and had a sturdy, reliable calmness about her that offset her relative slightness. She was not much bigger than Sarah, who was tall for her age, but who had, after all, just turned eleven two weeks ago.

“Likewise,” Joel said. “My name’s Joel Miller, I’m working maintenance, and this is my daughter, Sarah, she’s in bunk 3.”

“That’s great—my niece Ellie’s also in bunk 3. It’s her first summer here, maybe you can show her the ropes, Sarah,” Meghan said.

“It’s my first summer here too, but I’ve been at sleepaway before,” Sarah said, honesty warring with the self-importance that she used to offset her anxiety, a state she had been in approximately 80% of the time since she turned 11. “I went to Girl Scout sleepaway last year for two weeks. They had a lake there too.”

“You’re a veteran then. You can make sure she doesn’t set anything on fire when you make s’mores. Ellie’s a menace in the kitchen, God help us all when she’s got access to a campfire,” Meghan replied, smiling warmly. Her expression shifted to rueful when she turned back to face Joel. “Maintenance, huh? Marlene didn’t let you know?”

“Camp director Marlene? Let me know what?” Joel said. He and Marlene weren’t close, it was Tommy who had suggested to her Joel might work over the summer with Sarah going for free as part of the payment, but Joel didn’t see how she could’ve hired someone else and not told him before he’d driven halfway across the country with his little girl. Still, shittier things had happened and he started planning what he’d say to Sarah because he and her mom sure as hell couldn’t pay for her to go to the camp on their own and he couldn’t expect to land a job in the Middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire overnight. The higher rate for her mom’s gig as a travel nurse was going toward keeping her Grandma Denise in her apartment, money Joel didn’t begrudge his ex. They’d had an amicable enough split and they kept it that way by not bitching at each other about their finances or new relationships, not that Joel had much happening in either category.

“You’re not working maintenance. Or, not just maintenance. Gary, the guy who was supposed to be the woodshop counselor, backed out at the last minute, so Marlene’s kind of drafted you to take over. She said you worked construction, so you can help the kids make whatever they make in woodshop,” Meghan explained. Joel must have looked somewhere between blank and dubious. He felt that way. “On the plus side, you were going to share a cabin with Gary, so now you have the place to yourself. I heard he was a slob, but that might have been something someone said to make you feel like you’re coming out further ahead, since Marlene didn’t mention she’d be paying you more and she’s basically a card on the table kind of person, so I wouldn’t bet on a bigger paycheck, just the extra space.”

“That’s it?” Joel said. 

He wasn’t even sure himself what he was questioning—the extra work, the extra space, Marlene basically deputizing a stranger to tell him and avoiding his justifiable anger.

“For now. I think. Though you’ll probably get asked to play your guitar if you’re good enough to bring your own with you for the summer,” Meghan said. “No lessons, just campfire songs, folk songs, a little bit country, a little rock n’ roll—”

“No show tunes,” Joel interrupted. He liked this Meghan, her humor and her easiness with Sarah, her lack of vanity evident in the cargo pants, her sense of whimsy in the red bandana. Still, it was possible what he’d intended as banter had come out as gruff, shutting her down instead of picking up where she left off. “It’s just—”

“I get it. A man has to draw the line somewhere,” Meghan said. “Bunk 3 isn’t too far, I could show you the way there if you’ve got all your stuff. Sarah can meet Ellie and wait for the other girls to get in,” Meghan said.

Joel nodded and Sarah nearly bounced in agreement. They walked quietly through the woods, Sarah rendered speechless either by the intense greenness of the forest or the imminent meeting with Ellie and any other campers who’d arrived. Meghan didn’t appear to feel a need to fill up the time with small talk, though she did point out the path that led down to the dock and the sharply peaked roof of the main lodge. There was a clearing that showed the lake, laid out like a mirror, the pines and the cloudless sky redoubled, a pair of red kayaks making a cheerful splash of color on the distant shore. Sarah glanced at him, her eyes wide, and Joel smiled at her. This was why he’d driven cross-country in the truck that had seen far, far better days, why he was going to spend the summer dealing with rotting floorboards and teaching kids to make what, maybe some birdhouses, and whatever else Marlene decided he was going to do, probably dish up in the kitchen and if Meghan was right, lead the singalongs. They’d been at Camp Firefly for under an hour and it was already worth it.

“That’s the main campfire site,” Meghan said, pointing to a sizable ring of smoke-stained stones surrounded by grass matted down by hundreds of campers. There were a few white Adirondack chairs clustered together and a low, broad slab of rock Joel would pick to sit on if he had the guitar on his lap. “I’ll be sure to spread the word—no show tunes!”

“You’re not going to play ‘Hernando’s Hideaway?’ That’s your favorite,” Sarah said, blowing his cover. He shrugged and Meghan chuckled. 

“My favorite’s ‘Make Believe,’ but ‘Hernando’s’ a close second,” Joel said. 

“Gaylord Ravenal in the flesh,” Meghan said, winning some real points. Secret points because otherwise he’d have to admit how much he liked Broadway musicals. The next step would be disclosing that he’d always wanted to try out for the lead in the high school show but had been too busy at his after-school job that helped pay the family’s electric bill to be able to swing it.

“I can hold my own with his part. But I make a mean Magnolia Hawks,” Joel said.

“We’ve only got a lake, not a river. But it’s a big one,” Meghan said. 

“Dad, are you going to talk here all day?” Sarah said, this time stretching out all day long enough to make him shake his head and Meghan roll her eyes in amused commiseration.

“That’s Bunk 3,” Meghan said, gesturing over to an unremarkable log cabin that somehow managed to suggest a certain cheery impishness. That might have been the little face in the window, brown braids topped with a blue bandana fashioned into sort of a headband. “And that, as you may have guessed, is Ellie, holding down the fort. Sarah, why don’t you head in? Your counselor should be along in a bit. I’ll make sure your dad doesn’t get lost on the way to his cabin.” 

“Okay, yeah, Love you, Dad, bye!” Sarah said, making a beeline to the cabin’s front door and opening it after the briefest pause.

“I don’t need you to walk me to the cabin,” Joel said once they were standing there alone, the moment of watching the Bunk 3 door closing having past, leaving them as two adults just awkwardly near each other. At least, he felt awkward, laden down with bags, his lower back twinging again, suddenly unable to keep the frustration with Marlene from his expression, all out of small talk, not that he ever had much. He probably sounded rude to Meghan, he’d been rude to her, dismissive, especially when he didn’t exactly know the way to the cabin he and Gary had been assigned, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

“It’s on my way,” Meghan said. “And quite frankly, you don’t know where the hell you’re going so you do need me to walk you there. I’ll let Marlene know you’re settling in and you’d like a word with her before dinner. It’s at 6.”

She started walking, her boots’ tread audible on the leafmeal in the absence of any conversation, and Joel followed her. She was right after all. 

“I owe you an apology,” Joel finally managed to say. He looked her straight in the eye, there was that. Hers were a greyish green, darker than he’d thought when he’d first looked at her.

“No, you don’t. And I’ve never had one owed that was any good,” she said. “Relax. You didn’t offend me, not really, and I work in healthcare, I’m used to people mouthing off when they’re stressed. That’s before you add in dealing with my niece 24/7.”

“Don’t you get to be the fun auntie? She still gives you a hard time?” Joel asked. Sarah and Tommy got along like a house afire, as the saying went, largely because Tommy had never once said no to her and also never came to the Joel’s place without a bag of gummi bears that Sarah didn’t have to share with anyone. And a Barbie. He’d thought she’d tell him to stop when she turned 11, but she’d opened up Olympic Gymnast Barbie with the same degree of excited greed she’d brought to every other doll, secured more tightly in the pink box than whatever the hell they kept in Fort Knox these days. 

“I’m not the fun auntie, I’m all she’s got,” Meghan said. “I was 17 when my sister died when Ellie was a baby, her dad was never in the picture, it got really complicated for a while with the state, and you didn’t ask to hear any of this. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said. “I get complicated. Plus, now we’re even—we both tried to apologize and neither one of us would accept it.”

“I guess that’s good,” Meghan said. “That’s your cabin, right there,” she added, pointing to a small building nestled right up against a pair of pines. 

“Good enough,” Joel said. 

[elslittlestories]

The week after - Hunter (The Bad Batch)

This is a follow-up to "The morning after", a short fanfiction toying with the idea of an asexual Hunter and sensory issues. There should be a part 3 some day...

Gender neutral reader

1.5k words, some allusions to sex but nothing explicit

[Read on AO3]

⚠️Updated version available under the title:

Hunter stands at your front door, staring at you while he waits for your answer.

“You’ve got some nerves,” you say.

It’s been a week since that party on the beach, the kiss you shared and…everything else. Maybe asking you to go for a walk, like he has done so many times since you met, wasn’t such a great idea after all. But he’s not ready to give up.

“I’m sorry, I…Can we talk?”

You huff, intrigued despite yourself. After all, he’s here, and he does look sorry. You refuse to let hope take over you, but you step away from the door to let Hunter in. He follows you and you both sat across the kitchen table.

“I wanted to apologize,” says Hunter with a slight quaver in his voice.

“Took you long enough”, you can’t help but grouch.

Although it doesn’t bring you the sense of revenge you were looking for.

“I know…I needed it. I left Pabu for a few days.”

“So I’ve heard. Omega said you and Tech had some errand to run.”

“We visited some friends. A married couple.”

Hunter pauses, hands fidgeting, before he adds, “for advice.”

The leap your heart makes in your chest makes you dizzy. This time, there’s no stopping the foolish wish that he might love you after all.

“You needed advice from a married couple,” you repeat.

“I…wanted to figure out if what I was feeling was uh…more than friendship?”

Again, his voice gives away his fluster. The contrast with his confident stance is unsettling.

“…and?” you breathe out.

“And…I- Hum…Are you sure you don’t want to take a walk?”

At this point Hunter can’t look your way and his body feels so restless he fears it might trigger another meltdown. Even though he has taken every precaution to avoid it by wearing his most comfortable clothes and keeping his gloves on.

You take pity on him and agree to follow him outside, despite the throbbing of your heart. Without a word, you head down toward the beach, keeping an awkward distance between you.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” you say, making an effort of keeping your tone gentle.

Motion is already starting to ease Hunter’s edginess and when he starts speaking again, his voice is more gathered. What he struggles with is organizing his thoughts…

“It’s really important that you get that you are not the problem here. The reason I rejected you- it’s got nothing to do with you. I never wanted to make you feel like you didn’t deserve me. Anyone would be lucky to have you- not that I want you to go with somebody else. Well unless you want to. I’m not trying to force you into anything. I know I hurt and I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Are you trying to say you…want to be with me?”

The words seem even more foolish said out loud, but your pulse is racing and every inch or your body tingling. Your mind is already feeling up the blanks for him. He must have panicked because it was his first time, which would also explain his not so satisfactory performance.

“Well, I-…I like you.”

It takes every last bit of control in you for not tripping on the sand.

“I would love to share something with you,” he adds, flexing his hands. “But…”

“Ah,” you say with the wrong kind of butterflies in your stomach. “Here comes the but.”

Hunter looks at you, broken. He searches carefully for his words, toes digging into the sand for anchor.

“I don’t think I’m fit for this kind of relationship.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, your annoyance rising up again.

“I-…I can’t sleep with somebody.”

You stop dead. This chat is reaching a level of confusion you would never have expected! Hunter turns around to face you, cheeks pink and eyes avoidant.

“Sleep, as in sleep? Or the naughty one”, you hear yourself asking without thinking.

“Er…both? It’s uh…I think I struggle with the skin on skin contact.”

“And you only found out now?”

“Well, I didn’t have much experience with that until the other night.”

His face takes a darker shade. You can’t believe your ears.

“Nobody ever touched you? Not even a hug?”

“I was always wearing clothes.” Hunter shrugs.

The reality of this man’s life fully sinks into you. Your throat tightens as you try to imagine a child rising up without ever truly feeling the warmth of someone else against him.

“Is it okay if I hug you now?”

His eyes widened and you decide you don’t need his permission. You pull him against you and squeeze hard when you feel his arms closing around you.

“That’s so sad,” you whisper.

“It’s no big deal, really”, he replies with an uneasy pat on your back.

You step back, surprised to find your sight blurred.

“This kind of hugs works just fine for me,” he smiles.

“Is it because of your enhanced sense?”

“That’s Tech’s theory, yes. I’ve always had trouble with touch and texture.”

“Oh…”

There’s a silence as you take the news in and link the dots with your memories from that night, the fact that he never seemed to fully be touching you. Not in the way you were craving for him to touch you.

Hunter resumes walking, you catch up with him to ask:

“How does it feel?”

He sighs and doesn’t answer right away.

“Like staring at the sun but you can’t close your eyes.”

Mindlessly, you look up at the sky and squint at the brightness. Something twist inside you.

“So you didn’t have a good time, did you?”

“Not really, no,” he answers with a silent apology.

It makes your guilt flare up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I could just tough it out.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work. We’re supposed to both enjoy ourselves!”

Hunter stares in the far and quietly says: “I’ve never been interested in that, to be honest.”

You frown.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“My friend warned me this pill might be the hardest to swallow,” he makes himself joke.

“I mean, have you seen yourself in a mirror?”

It’s his time to frown, so you add:

“You’re hot, Hunter. Half of Pabu must be fantasizing about you and you’re telling you have zero interest in- in- in…the thing!”

He rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle. He never quite understood what people saw in him in that regard, but his brothers have made him aware of it in various teasing ways. Until now he just didn’t realize the fact that he never ever reciprocated the attraction was unusual.

“But wait! What about kissing?”

He winces. You catch it.

“I don’t mind the…closed-lip ones,” he says as gently as he can, aware he’s close to hurting your feelings.

“You don’t mind them.”

While your broken ego whales about your inability to entice desire in a man, you’re more concerned about having forced Hunter into something he clearly didn’t want to do. The question escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Was there anything at all you enjoyed that night?”

He gives you another of his apologetic, sad puppy look and you feel sick.

“But…” you add, “you were…hard.”

“I mean, the machinery is working.”

Somehow, his answer makes it even worst.

“And to be honest, I was expected something to kick in at some point. But with the sensory issues…it just never came.”

He notices how pale you are and quickly adds:

“It wasn’t so bad. I was probably more content by giving you a good time than anything. I’m not sure I did a good job with that, though…”

“First times are meant to be messy, but I wasn’t expecting to force you into yours!”

Hunter takes your wrist and waits for your eyes to meet before uttering:

“Hey, you didn’t force me into anything. I overestimated my abilities and chose to go through with it anyway, so that’s not on you, okay?”

You nod, giddy from his strong aura and the feeling of his gloved hand on your skin.

“This sucks,” you mumble.

He let go of your arm.

“Tell me about it…”

You walk in silence until you reach the end of the beach and turn around. Hunter wouldn’t mind sprinting away, if only to get rid of the tensions in his body. He’s never felt more exposed in his entire life.

“Maybe I should give you some space to process all of this,” he says hesitantly.

“Yeah…”

“I- uh…I’ll just go, then.”

He means to add he’ll miss you, but he doesn’t. After one last look and a shy smile, he bolts away. The run does help a little, but he’s got a burning question on the tip of his tongue, and he knows he won’t find rest until you’ve answered it. He speeds up, waiting for the rush of endorphins to wash over him and take away the dread that you might not want to see him for a while…

***

This headcanon of Hunter is very dear to me, I can only hope it resonates with someone else in any way.

I should probably have edited this more, but I'm too impulsive for this shit!

Thank you so much for reading and bearing with me 🥰

[genderqueerdykes]

Our Hunt for a Home Continues: February 19th - 24th, 2023.

View On WordPress.

We received a call on February 16th about an opportunity that had opened up with a low-income housing program designed for disabled people. We had been waiting on this opportunity for 4 or 5 months and were ecstatic when the call finally came through. The other units we were looking into renting were in the worst part of town, and charging $700 or more per month for a 1 bedroom or studio unit.

We were instructed to head over to this apartment complex on Feb 20th to fill out paperwork. We hopped in an Uber and went on over. We were shown the unit, then handed an application, told to get a $16 money order to cover the application fee, and come back and hand it all in. Well, it sounded a lot easier than it ended up being.

We don’t own a car and can’t drive due to disabilities (hallucinations, dissociation, anxiety, you get the picture). So in order to get this money order, we asked what places nearby could get us one. We were told to head to a local Circle K. We looked on Google Maps, saw it was 3 minutes away, and started walking. Well, it thought we were in a car, so it meant 3 minutes driving time.

After walking for about 15 minutes before realizing something was up, our legs felt like jello. Our left leg had a pinched nerve in it that day and was sending shooting pain up our hip and down our thigh with every step. Our hypermobile & arthritic joints were already screaming in pain and our feet needed a rest after just one city block of walking. We had to call another Uber. The problem was, for whatever reason, our cellphone service provider has abysmal service in the downtown Albuquerque area.

We lost service about 5 times trying to hail Ubers over the course of the day, causing us to have several public meltdowns. It’s hard to stay calm when your phone is on 20% battery, you keep losing your only way to hail a ride, and you’re in too much pain to walk anywhere where someone can help you. After a long fight we got connected with a driver who was very understanding of our situation, despite our language barrier.

They took us to several locations for free, as we first went to a Circle K gas station that didn’t do money orders, then attempted another gas station across the street, then a bank, and so on. It took a lot of stops but the driver didn’t mind, as I was paying for the longer stops across town. I didn’t care either because it became apparent that it was President’s Day after I tried to go to a bank and it was closed. I almost gave up, but decided to call the Circle K near my home, who turned out, did do money orders. I redirected my driver from dropping me off at home, got the money order, ran back to the apartment complex with just half an hour to spare before they closed.

Filling out the application filled me with dread. The desk staff person was very nice, but she was very blunt about the entire approval process. Because they can only take a percentage of your earned income, they are a very strict program that requires each tenant to pass a credit score check AND an extensive background check that monitors ALL of the renter’s history. She told me that this part of the approval process is where a lot of people get turned away. A lot of people don’t make it, she said.

After handing in my application, I knew it was fucked. I had been holding my breath and waiting for this unit. It seemed like it would come right in time- just right before the 28th, when I’m set to be homeless. But I got the call 2 days later where she said I was denied, due to an instance of unpaid rent in my past. I sighed heavily, asked her if I would be able to apply again after I got that sorted, and she said yes.

I freaked the fuck out, texted every local friend that I could, and let them know of my predicament. I was very lucky in finding a local friend whose roommate is leaving in 2 weeks. They are willing to charge me $495/month, which is way lower than anything I’ve been able to find on the market. We agreed to help each other out until I can figure something more permanent out. It’s not a solution I’d like to take, as I barely know this person, but if it helps both of us, so be it.

The instance of unpaid rent in another state was due to us having lived in Missouri at the time, far away from friends, family, and medical care. We were living with some folks at the time who ended up ghosting us after we helped them move in together. It left us stranded in a very cold state with unsurvivable winters and no programs for homelessness. There was no medicaid or other insurance that would cover me. I couldn’t even get my proper medical care while there, and after a while, my partner and I at the time decided we needed to leave for some place cheaper and safer. The heavy winters were too scary for us, as two people who have been homeless.

The landlord here would not allow us to terminate our lease early despite us expressing that it was an emergency and we literally could not stay any longer due to my health failing severely while in the harsh winters. I was developing arthritis symptoms that I had never seen before, and I was getting so sick that I couldn’t function. Still, my landlord wouldn’t budge and said we had to pay for the rest of the lease. We refused and left anyways, but the landlord didn’t care, I suppose.

I found out today that there is potentially help to get this debt paid for and consolidated, which will make me eligible for the low-income housing program for disabled people once more. I am not going to hold my breath that this is a fast process by any means, but, I am hoping that they will be able to clear that up so I can ever hope to rent an apartment of my own again. My credit score is 9 points under the threshold they wanted, so that will be my next goal…

The only other units in the city I could find that can drum up a lease for me with my circumstances were trying to charge $685/month and $725/month, one of which being in one of the worst parts of town. I would have to pay a massive $650 deposit at both of these places, plus have to get utilities set up in my name, as well as get internet set up for my job, and a lot of other costs that will not be apparent at first, but will stack on very quickly.

I am very scared moving in with roommates in general- I am not afraid of my current roommate, but I have lived with many, many different roommates, in many different places, for many different reasons. Roommate situations fall apart very easily. Money is almost always the thing that tears roommates and friends apart- whether it’s someone not paying their portion of the rent, not buying enough groceries, not paying for a bill, gambling, shopping when they can’t afford it, and so forth…

My case worker helped me contact a local Christian charity who does housing programs and we were able to contact someone who actually seems like they can help me with permanent, long term housing- they said all of their programs are permanent, but are best suited for people in low income situations and poor health. When they asked where I was headed my case worker said a friend’s couch, and this was the first person on the phone who said, after learning about my income being a fluctuating thing, “well now that makes me even more nervous- because if she* can’t pay that $500 one time, she’s very well gonna be right back out on the street. Roommate situations almost always fall apart. I don’t feel like that’s safe for her.” [*”She”s in this context referring to me/my system.]

This charity requires that the individual stays for at least one day at a homeless shelter in order to get an official letter of homelessness. I have been to and spent time in several shelters in my city, I don’t mind one day if it means a potential future of secure housing. They told me a lot of other things that sound quite promising. I just have to hope that I can hold out until they can get something prepared for me. They said they have furnished units that are basically ready and waiting…

Staying with a friend for now isn’t the end of the world. In fact, I’m going to save some money by not having to pay for a deposit, movers, and potentially storage, now. But I’m nervous, as any kind of roadblock can cause this situation to fall apart. Disagreements, not getting a lot of money from Etsy one month, physical and mental illness, personal issues, and other life stressors can cause a lot of problems. Plus, this person may eventually decide they want someone else to move in instead, as it is their place, not mine, and that is their decision to make.

With any hope, I can get my past rental dues cleared, and have a better chance with these programs. I am hoping and praying, but that will take time, more time than I have. It is February 24th, 2023 as of writing this, and I have to be out of my apartment on February 28th. I have to have all of my possessions and myself and my pet rat out on this date, or else police will be called, and my things will be thrown on to the sidewalk, and into dumpsters. My case worker confirmed that this is the case, and I have known people who have gone through this personally.

I am very frightened. It has been hard to stay calm. I’m not exactly excited to be working with a Christian charity as someone who is visibly trans- “”female”” birth marker and deadname, but High T body, deep voice, and short hair. It’s caused problems with domestic violence shelters in the past, and can cause problems with religious organizations. I just have to hope and pray that these people love Jesus more than they hate queers.

My case worker was pretty convinced we’d be able to get our hotel stay covered by some local programs, but after 2 hours of phone calls this morning, we discovered that all of the hotel voucher programs in town have used up their funds, and the majority of them require the individual to have a child, which I do not. I have littles, but they’re system kids, not bodily ones, but they’re not so kind as to consider any of that.

I honestly didn’t anticipate any of those programs coming through. I’m just hoping that I’m able to be able to afford the two weeks in an extended stay hotel and that not too many more things come up. I didn’t really want it to have to come to this, but it’s either this, or sign a 1 year lease for 1 bedroom apartment in the least safe part of town, for $685+/month. I can’t afford that, it’s unrealistic. As much as I’d like to totally have a place all to myself right now, I can’t do it unless one of these programs actually works with me.

Anyway, I just wanted to explain why it’s been so hard for us to post regularly lately. This has all been over the course of one week. One of the worst days of our collective life was on Tuesday, having to run around town to get a money order just to be told we won’t have a place to live come the 28th… heart breaking. It felt very uncomfortable to beg friends yet again for a place to stay, but this is the life of queer, poor and disabled people. We have to do what we have to to survive and it’s not pretty. Sometimes it involves putting strain on people you love and none of us want to do it.

With any hope our disability benefits get approved sometime soon and we won’t have to wait much longer to afford to live. But until now things are very tight, and any help that we get goes directly toward our survival and staying off the street.

This is why we take the time to thank everyone we can for their help and support- it makes all the difference, especially when programs that are designed to help people like me fail miserably, or have unexpected roadblocks. Every bit of help, even the smallest donations or purchases from our store enable us to stay safe, and we appreciate each and every one greatly.

We will try to post more updates as things progress. We are finding it a bit easier to endure this when we share updates, as it helps give people an idea of what life is like for people who aren’t quite so privileged. Things that take others a few minutes can take hours for us, given our lack of reliable transportation and inconsistent health.

Thank you for reading, take care, stay safe, and I hope you find an easier time staying sheltered if you are a similarly disabled, poor queer person. It’s not easy out there. We have to take care of one another, it is the only way.

Rook

[formula-red]

man these kids. this week has been so insane.

(continued below the cut cus this will be way too long)

ok so for like. those of you who care to read to this and who may not know this. i’m working in a rural school in the usa and by nature of the area a lot of our kids are really traumatised. a lot don’t get enough to eat or sleep and we have a significant population living w.out water or electricity. and i’m workin with a lot of our little guys. most of the day i spend with k/1 so like 5-7 y/os and then at the end of the day i see some 3 and 5s so like 8 y/o then 10 y/os.

alright so with that out of the way. the attachment issues and trauma frequency being so high means these kids have a really tough time in school and a lot of behavioural/emotional issues. even our little guys; they’ll lash out a lot and hit us or cry and really don’t do so well sometimes. but omg. these sweet little babies. augh. they just need someone who gives a fuck about them and who is kind to them.

so, as some of u guys have seen, i have my own trauma lol and i know what its like to an extent– obviously my experience is my own and drastically different than theirs but. like. i know enough. so its really important to me to just be kind to these guys even when they’re being mean and acting out. and augh. the reactions i’ve gotten from it.

i’ve already been able to get a few kids down from like. full on sobbing snotty tears streaming down the face defcon 3 meltdowns. one of them (like a 7y/o) had been with another person for like 10-15 mins and when i traded places was still in full meltdown and i had her back in the classroom and tear free in like 5 minutes bc like. i just sat down with her on the floor and talked to her and more importantly fucking listened to her. and another boy (10 y/o) who had been so bad during this group work for the first half of the week. i talked to him and was like bud i really don’t want you to get in trouble that’s not at all my goal here but we have to turn some work in . and he was still refusing to participate but i noticed he was kind of looking on a few minutes later but didnt have a pencil. so i put my own pencil down on his paper without saying anything while still working with the other kids and he just put his head down for like 30s all emotional before picking it up and joining in and he’s been so much better for me now. like SOB.

but yesterday. oh man. YESTERDAY. (kdz has already had a detailed recount of this but.) i have two boys, one in kinder one in 1st grade, and they both have really tough home lives. and i don’t know what happened yesterday but both of them were like GLUED to me. i mean they were both having a hard time and at separate points during the day i had to take them aside and just be like. what’s goin on why are you acting like this today and both ended up basically crying and hugging me a bunch and then wouldn’t go anywhere without holding my hand. and now they’re my little buddies when i’m in their classroom. the little tiny one even said HE WAS SCARED WHEN I LEFT FOR A FEW MINUTES 😭😭😭 when i had come back he ran over and hugged me and was just like. stuck to me.

like augh. idk how to explain what it’s like working with them. it’s really special to be a safe person for them and to be able to help them be more comfortable at school and to help them learn but it’s so fucking heartbreaking man. i hate knowing these kids go home to all the shit they go through. and of course it can be really frustrating and hard when they are mean or act out but augh. man. these kids just need love. so bad. i genuinely care for them so much already . augh augh augh augh augh 

[life-with-my-three]

I’ve been quiet on here. Life is going along. We’ve had a few bigger things happen in the last few months, weeks even, but in all honesty I’ve been so burnt out that even the thought of writing things down has been too much.

Fletch is really struggling with meltdowns at the moment. In the last few days we’ve had multiple big ones in public, where he’s screaming, hitting, kicking and just generally struggling.

We received the ASD assessment forms from his paediatric appointment today.

This morning when taking him to kinder he couldn’t find his dinosaur hat. This set off a mammoth meltdown. However long to get him into the car, and then he kicked me from behind and screamed the whole 20 minutes to kinder by which stage we were late. Drove around the car park 5 times, finally I saw the person getting into their car in what would be the best possible spot to tackle getting a screaming, thrashing Fletch, Harriet and her running tube feed, and Lucy out of the car and independently into the kinder.

There was no cars behind me so I stopped and waited. Just as the guy put on his reverse lights this guy pulled up behind me. Not even 20 seconds later just as I was about to drive into the spot, he pulls up next to me to block me and winds down his window. I have no idea what’s happening so I wind down mine and he launches into full on abuse. Which is great when you already having a kid kick you over and over and scream for the last 45 minutes. He constantly hauled abuse and could hear the chaos happening, and then yelled about putting my hazards on next time, and maybe I should have, but I can guarantee in those 20 seconds that didn’t cross my mind with everything going on. I pulled into the spot, somehow got all 3 into kinder. Fletch actually calmed and ran off to play. After this whole abuse scene Hattie hugged my leg and didn’t want to let go. One of the educators finally got her distracted to say bye.

I honestly felt miserable after the whole scene, so I took Lucy to the craft store and bought some things I’d needed.

Went home. Sent a whole bunch of life admin emails and made calls. Got a call from kinder saying Hattie was refusing to eat or drink (luckily we still have tube feeds/fluids to fall back on), that she was miserable and wouldn’t interact with anyone, even her BFF which is just unheard of. We were already picking them up early so we just stuck to this.

A few other things thrown into the mix today, but I am so sick of people.

[babyspacebatclone]

So, I jinxed myself last night when I casually posted that I can walk into work at the daycare, be told I’m being moved to another room because someone’s sick and I have the highest competency rating of anyone not in charge of a room already, and not even blink let alone meltdown.

Three guesses what I walked into at 9:00 on the dot because I couldn’t pull myself out of bed until ten minutes after I was supposed to this morning???

And of course it’s the Young Preschool Room.

Where the 16 kids come in 8 varieties:

1) On a behavior plan because they are nd, traumatized from family issues, and have responded to this by embodying the demonic spawn of a redcap and a tornado. (count: 1)

2) On a behavior plan because they are feral* and have an established history of attacking staff during tempter tantrums. (count: 2)

3) Not on a behavior plan because while they are equally feral and have worse temper tantrum behaviors than Group 2 they don’t resort to hitting or violence - usually. (count: 2)

You will notice I have already accounted for a third of the kids in the room.

4) Typically decent but with the energy of Kid 1 and the emotions of Children in group 3, but just sit and cry when having tantrums. (count: 4)

5) A recent graduate from the Toddler Room who would be in Group 4 but needs different handling. (count: 1)

6) Group 4 but less. (count: 3)

7) Should be in Group 1 but by a literal miracle is equal to Group 6. (count: 1)

8) Not present or else visiting the Older Preschool class today. (count: 2)

The two kids that make up Group 1 and Group 7, by the way, come from two different families that underwent witnessing a parent get arrested and that parent no longer in their life for at least six months (one from jail time and rehab; one from a non-contact order being 90% enforced).

…..

All and all, it was actually a good day. None of the kids pulled anything I haven’t seen before, and I am in a current mental-health upswing (relative to three weeks ago).

* Feral children: Do not get structure (i.e. told no) at home, and therefore resent any time an adult actually tries to impose limits on them, such as “It is now art time, put away your toys” or “Don’t climb up slides, you’ll hurt yourself.”

I live by the maxim “I’ve been through worse,” and today was definitely at least three levels down from worse I haven’t had a Meltdown over!

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

I posted 53 times in 2022

21 posts created (40%)

32 posts reblogged (60%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@undercoverwizardninjaturtle

@jadethest0ne

@undercoverwizardfanfiction

@starrcrossrose

@void-inked-pen

I tagged 23 of my posts in 2022

#rottmnt - 22 posts

#rottmnt fanfiction - 14 posts

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles - 14 posts

#undercoverwizardninjaturtle - 11 posts

#donnie - 11 posts

#tmnt - 9 posts

#leo - 9 posts

#rottmnt fantasy au - 6 posts

#rise of teenage mutant ninja turtles - 5 posts

#teenage mutant ninja turtles - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 50 characters

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtle fanfiction

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Title: Glass Shell

Verse: ROTTMNT

Summary: Afterall, aren’t we all in various stages of falling apart?

Characters: Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael

Pairings:

Warnings: PTSD, meltdown, nightmares, past trauma

@hoshisoul and @soldierofsirens thank you both :)

Being a record-breaking insomniac, Leo is always finicky if he wakes up before he’s ready. Normally the process includes twelve alarms, turning off the heated blanket he had started using for the top half of his body and the slightly warmer second heated blanket he used for the bottom half and letting nature do its work (if he’s lucky, he’d be up by noon). What he doesn’t like is having an empty bag dropped entirely on his face. For a moment all he can do was shoot up in a sitting position and swipe at his face furiously till he’s able to catch it and pull it off. He pushes up his eye mask and rubs at his face as he reads the bag.

“Naturally sourced fair trade premium coffee beans?” He looks up to his assailant. “Raph, I keep telling you coffee is a gateway drug and our grocery bills can’t afford another caffeine addict—”

“That's not—no, I don’t have the physical strength to fight Donnie for coffee every morning,” Raph says with a shake of his head, as though the very thought of it was enough to give him nightmares. “No, I wanted to talk to you, ’cause I think something might be happening and I’m not sure. I’ve been wrong in the past; I’ve made things worse in the past—” Raph starts tapping his forefingers as his talking speeds up. “And—and I don't want to overstep, but I can't stop thinking about it and—and I thought I’d come to you since you’re better about this—”

“Buddy, buddy, you’re at a 10 right now, I need you to be at a 3,” Leo pulls his water jug off his bedside and takes a sip. “Maybe a 2. “

Raph's face twists up in frustration, but he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths and opens his eyes again. He starts pacing across the small space between Leo’s bed and the door, gesturing with his hands.

“OK, so we got groceries two days ago. I remember because you always buy an extra three boxes of cookies. One for dipping into sour cream while you shop, one for Pops so he doesn’t eat your cookies, and one for the drive home, ’cause, and I quote: ‘I just did my chore for the week and I deserve this.’” Raph pauses and looks at him. “You know, how you’re still alive is beyond me.”

“Pizza Supreme in the Sky wouldn’t gift me to the world and take me away so easy.'' Leo grins. Now that he’s waking up more, he stretches out his arms and legs in almost a catlike manner and yawns. “OK, OK, so we went grocery shopping. So what?”

“So, every week Donnie gets four large bags of overpriced coffee from that vegan store on the other side of town because the one we used to go to banned you both.”

“We’ve been over this. If they didn’t want us to ride a robot bear through their vegan honey aisle they should have put up a sign—”

“—SO I went to throw it in the recycling bin. And I saw there were already, like, four bags in there. That doesn’t seem healthy.”

Ah, worried big brother Raph is a classic. Leo can’t help but smile and reach out, wrapping his smaller hand around Raphs larger finger, which instinctively wraps around his.

“OK, OK, big guy, come here. Come listen to Wisonardo.” He manages to scoot over to let Raph sit down next to him before he gets up on his knees and starts kneading his shoulder. But upon realizing his fingers didn’t have the strength to make a difference, he switches to his elbows. “I know you love to worry. It’s your favorite thing to do other than collecting Teddy Bear Town coupons and anxiety. And the fact you haven't been hovering over him is great and I’m proud of you… I mean yeah, that much coffee would kill a T-Rex. But Donnie—'' Four bags was a lot of coffee, was he not sleeping at all? “That is a lot for him, but we’ve all been going through a lot with the Invasion, and I think this is just how he’s coping. I think.”

See the full post

111 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

#4

An EDIT i made based on images from the ROTTMNT season 1 finale

141 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

#3

HEY! It’s Charmy here, over on the SaveROTTMNT server we’re gauging interest to see if anyone is interested in participating in a ROTTMNT movie zine! If you’re interested let me know, we need artists, writers and maybe a few mods. Just let me know and we’ll see how it goes!

143 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#2

I don’t normally draw but I’ve been practicing, I still consider myself a writer by trade but it’s fun to try new things

based on this post

486 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I’ve said it once I’ll say it again for those in the back. Because even I , who post REGULARLY, have been getting these messages lately

👏STOP👏HARASSING👏CREATORS👏

“But they’re taking forever-😭”

THEN YOU’LL WAIT FOREVER

“They’re my favorite creator-“

THEN STOP HARASSING THEM AND BE SUPPORTIVE DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO ADMIT WHEN YOU LOOSE INTEREST IN A PROJECT? IF YOU REALLY SUPPORT THEM THEN YOU’LL SUPPORT THEM EVEN IF THEYRE NOT GIVING YOU ANYTHING

“They left it on such a cliffhanger-“

THAT DOESN’T CONSTITUTE THE RIGHT TO THREATEN PEOPLE DENNIS

I DONT CARE YOUR ARGUMENT BECAME INVALID WHEN YOU STARTED BULLYING PEOPLE. LET PEOPLE LIVE THEIR LIVES STOP HARASSING THEM

This has been Charmy saying “stop being a jerk”😘

1,319 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[caught-in-time]

Academic identity crisis/perfectionist meltdown!

I’ve neglected myself for way too long and it’s caught up with me just in time for exams. I’m pretty heartbroken - restarting my second year of college only to be incompetent when exams come around again. I’ve fucked my brain up and that terrifies me, because for my whole life, I’ve known that my brain is all I really have. I’ve destroyed the only sense of value I ever had.

Tomorrow I’m going to discuss with my tutor (not tc) about sitting my exams in November instead of in 2 weeks, because I’m a triple failure, but I’m going to ask if I can stay opted-in for the upcoming exams. Hopefully that would mean still attending lessons and making my decision on the day of exams.

Because I cannot pull myself away from him any sooner than I have to. Though I could never suspect anything too deep, I have no idea how he feels about me anymore. But that doesn’t seem to matter when i only have ~3 weeks of lessons left with him. Time is running away from me so fast. He could be literally scowling and rolling his eyes at me and I’d still be desperate to get everything I could out of these last weeks.

Sorry for the miserable post that sounds more like an overheard therapy session :( I wish I had one of those old giddy updates about him… just once more.

oh! I just thought of something small but nonetheless sweet, which I’ll post separately because this post is already way too long

[otstudentwithalife]

From theory into practice: Week 1 was the longest week all year.

For me this year started off with my body physically attending lectures and even fieldwork preparation but my brain still on vacation. Which isn’t unusual per say, in fact in my 3 years of studying this was the first fieldwork preparation I attended, and it left me gob smacked for sure. The reality of the amount of, not only theory we were covering and the relevance of the past 2 years but as well as the idea of implementing that and treating patients to my full capacity was a sad trombone sound effect moment for me.

Sitting in that lecture hall and presenting my groups analysis of that case study and what our clinical reasoning was for what we planned made me realise that this year was about putting theory into practice after all. I didn't what I knew or didn't know but I was confident I would make it regardless.

In the words of famous baseball catcher Yogi Berra:” In theory, there is no difference in theory and practice-in practice there is.” Now my interpretation might not be what he meant but I know this struck me because I’ve always been an academic and OT has forced me to not only adapt to putting that knowledge into practice but within practice to be able to think on my toes because we work with people and no matter how many books, articles, and research I do. The people I see will never be predictable and the sessions will not always be a free-flowing downward stream, the weather quickly changes in sessions and that’s the beauty of this quote. Without discounting theory’s role in practice, I understand now that practice on its own has knowledge.

On my first day, I was so prepared that I felt little to no anxiety waking up. Of course, that was short-lived because as soon as I got my SCI patient and went to the ward, HE WASN’T THERE !! I hoped the OT was going to say “oh okay then I guess you can chill today, and we’ll get you another patient on Wednesday “ but no I wasn’t that lucky, I got a CVA patient. Now I am familiar with this diagnosis, so I wasn’t stressed, that’s until I went to see her. She presented in a way I’d never worked with before because it wasn’t the right CVA, left hemiplegic I was used to, but this Left CVA patient was going to present in ways I had never assessed or treated before. That scared me so much my anxiety sky-rocketed almost immediately. So I dealt with it the best way I know, I opened up the cabinet in my brain filled with all that theory and assessed her the best way I knew how. It wasn’t smooth sailing because my first obstacle was finding a way to communicate with my patient and ways to understand when she was trying to communicate with me because she not only has oral apraxia but also responsive aphasia. I had a mini meltdown for 2 seconds in my head because I intended on doing my interview so theory had to take a back seat right here. I had to then use practice and what I had seen from colleagues at other placements to get through the session and still achieve my assessment aims and some background information. It was a productive session but the cog wheels in my brain were spiraling already planning our next session and how I was going to effectively communicate and treat my patient.

I spoke to my supervisor who had observed a good portion of the session and her feedback most definitely eased my stress after the session. She gave constructive criticism which I absolutely prefer, as well as went as far as throwing me little golden nuggets as to how I could overcome this communication barrier I was struggling with. Speaking with her helped consolidate and validate my observations of that session and I went home back in my little to no anxiety state. I already had ideas on how to use the facilities resources to help me treat my patient and I was on a roll. I planned my first treatment session to be a colour sequence matching game that I had created for another CVA patient I saw 2nd year. The beauty of creativity I didn’t know I had was comforting in this moment, this activity had been trialed and errored so this time I made a few adaptations to meet this client’s specific treatment aims and I was ready and confident. The session was a great success in my eyes, the client was actively engaged, I heard her laugh for the first time and I could see the gratitude and excitement in her smile when we finished the session. So, the next session had to be her choice from a few pictures activities that I had chosen, and she chose painting and that was what we were going to do for our last session of the week. 

I went home motived and happy to plan the next session. Now I went into the third session expecting yesterday’s outcome, and Thursday was not like Wednesday. The session was successful, I was able to get more observations, more insight into my client’s condition don't get me wrong. All in all, I got a lot of information I needed in the session, but she was not as engaged and cheerful as she was the previous day. In that moment I told myself “Back to the drawing board”.

I still haven’t figured out why she chose the activity if she did not like it. My client was familiar with the activity, maybe she felt inclined to choose it among the choices presented to her. In theory when you give someone options and they choose to do something, they should be interested in it. Practice and reality say “Be willing to step outside of your comfort zone once in a while; take risks in life that seem worth taking. The ride might not be as predictable as if you’d just planted your feet and stayed put but will be a heck of a lot more interesting.” -Edwin Whitacre Jr.  (Quotefancy: Edwin Whitacre, Jr. Quotes, 2023).

So, theory maps out the path we need to take in intervention, but practice shows us the how to get there and it’s my goal to help her not only step out of her comfort zone but expose her to things she may not know she could enjoy doing or even do for leisure. Another lesson learned this week alone about going from theory to practice.

Now going into the new week, I realized I don’t want to not be anxious when thinking about my treatment sessions or not consider whether my patient will enjoy her time with me. This is because “It is not enough to give a patient something to do with the hands. You must reach for the heart as well as the hands. It is the heart that really does the healing “- Ora Ruggles and I intend to uphold that because to me it truly defines what my goal in OT for my patients is all about. (The Healing Heart: The Story f Ora Ruggles, Pioneer in Occupational Therapy. 1962)

[ambientbroth]

Self Diagnosis Autism Entry 8 (I think)

I left and did some reflecting

I watched a bunch of YouTube videos and dove into the side of self diagnosis becoming a very popular trend and topic discussion.

Becoming embarrassed of myself and what I choose to type out behind a screen I realized a couple things based on some of the more popular takes on why self diagnosis is not valid

Do they realize it’s a disability? Why do they want to have that disability?

I for sure know people go online and fake disabilities. I also know that when someone does that, it does mean there’s something else wrong but maybe not the disability they are fronting. I didn’t want to relate to Autism, I actually tried out all the other “common” disorders (by tried out I mean to do excessive research until I proved to myself I couldn’t relate to the disorder) but I so far I can’t disprove my Autism. I catch myself stimming, unable to bathe myself because I just like being in the bathroom for hours, unable to connect with people unless it’s a special interest, with many burned bridges, and failed coping mechanisms but finding Autism coping mechanisms to be extremely helpful. I could go on.

Even if you have the symptoms it doesn’t mean you have it. Correlation does not equal causation.

This is actually true but it’s so confusing for me. I demonstrate so many traits in Autism, some I’ve never made up, and the only explanation I can’t cross off is Autism. I know there are people to argue against it but I can’t disprove my love for dark and small spaces - so much I use to wander away from family events to hide in the trunk of cars, find new dark hiding places in every house I lived in; a closet room, a corner and couch, kitchen cabinets, boxes, under desk, and bathrooms. I can’t disprove the fact that when someone touches me it’ll feel like acid is burning me, or when I’m touched somewhere I feel it in my belly button?? The amount of times I’d been called a brat or my over sensitivity to sounds and lights and people and my own emotions being used against me. I can’t disprove my inabilities, the ones that I need to function. I’ve gotten away with so much of my behavior because I’m conventionally attractive, it’s not a brag, I needed and still need a lot of help.

Negative experiences in life don’t need a medical diagnosis

This is also very true. Like if you suffer with depression, anxiety, and or ADHD you don’t need that to necessarily tell you, you have sleep problems. It doesn’t make the sleep problems go away. It’s the fact that you’re experiencing them and need support. This is I do agree with. There’s a different between “Negative life experiences” and “being disabled”. Being socially awkward and over stimulated does not mean you have Autism. You can tell it’s a disability when you demonstrate “negative traits” of Autism as well as the “regular traits” I’m not using it as an excuse to be a bad person, I know this and my partner knows this. However, when it gets bad it gets horribly bad. It takes half the day or most of the night. It needs to be cared for with patience because I’m unable to be that myself, I might unalived myself if it was up to me to care for it. It happens less frequently now due to the proper coping mechanisms under Autism. Before my Autism discovery, I was having meltdowns 2-3 times a week. It was exhausting. I was always at a battle with my job, my relationship, my inward opinions of myself. It’s debilitating you have to know that it’s not just negative experience.

It’s just a label they give themselves it’s doesn’t actually help them so what’s the point?

I kinda already went over this but it helps in other ways rather than just finding comfort in the label itself. Like I said, finding the right coping mechanisms. I’m starting to unpacking what I was diagnosed with in adolescence and noticing how the therapy and coping strategies never actually connected with me or rarely helped or explain myself. I never really had anxiety attacks and I wasn’t really depressed so I felt like I had imposter syndrome - and my mom made it worse (but that’s not the story today lol) The panic attacks had were due to overstimulation, emotional processing, alienation, changes - which is common! But the coping mechanisms like:

“Okay you’re having a panic attack let’s focus on the senses” like THAT would stress me out even more, that made me feel worse.

Other than coping mechanisms, there’s also learning sign language and wearing noise canceling out in public (also as a coping strategy) but it helps.

Even if I may not have Autism, I’m finding, within myself, ways I’m improving my quality of life. It’s the most my life has ever felt explained.

[phantomcat94]

Hello this is just a vent post for the void to get my thoughts out without stressing out my friends (I already talk with them a lot about this, hopefully soon my insurance will get approved and I’ll get a therapist to do this with instead) TW suicidal ideation/language, abuse/abusive language

Today was frustrating. I almost got duped by one of those job scams that lists on job searches as a job but is actually a course to learn the skills to *potentially* get a job. Which, like, I initially thought I was a contracted “work when work is available” sort of job, but it was fitted pretty much exactly to my skills, it was remote (so I don’t have to worry about finding out the hard way how much my POTS still affects me in the workplace), it paid decently enough that a few hours a week would have been. You know. ENOUGH. Not to get out of my mom’s house but to have my own money. To afford the things I would really like to have without having to use my moms money, or the very smallest residual amount I get from my OnlyFans, or just putting it on a wishlist where it will rot until the day I die and looking at it wistfully sometimes. Think clothes that fit and aren’t almost 20 years old, a blender that works, a replacement for my sad melted phone case and broken pop socket, little things I don’t NEED but would be nice to have. (Mostly I was hoping to have a little money for a trip mom and I are taking in October. I’d like to visit my high school best friend and pay for my own food. Maybe get a trinket or two at the ren faire, nothing extravagant but some earrings or a necklace maybe, something to remember the trip by)

Anyhow so. The job wasn’t real but was somehow listed on Google jobs literally 50 times in a row from different companies which all linked back to the same site (it’s social sale rep btw) and then I was just. SO ANGRY and FRUSTRATED I had ti scrap todays plans to try to emotionally regulate (ahh, autism)

Some other highly frustrating stuff happened today and it led to me having a meltdown trying to tell my mom that, no, that job I was so excited to apply to wasn’t real, just like the last 20 I’ve found that are suited to my needs. And I’m so ashamed of having my friends say “are you coming to see me” and realizing that, no, I simply can’t afford to. I can barely afford to inhale. My mom had to unretire not only because of me (bitch is SHIT at financial decisions) but I’m certainly making things worse. A very dear friend of mine jokingly pointed out I’m not contributing and I couldn’t look at them and say “I know. It makes me want to kill myself. I spend every day maddened and sickened by the knowledge that I’m a black hole that does nothing but cost money and eat food. I am aware.”

And mom was (for once lmao) so supportive because she offered to have me move home so I could recover from fainting 3 times a day (2022 was a nightmare, man). So that I didn’t have to worry about work, after losing my dream job twice in one year for being disabled (Disney ghosted me and then I was forced to quit my performing job because you can’t perform when you’re unconscious and I just needed to move home). But I carry the shame and guilt of forcing her to unretire because she couldn’t make ends meet without working and I simply couldn’t. And now that I’m able to cognitively, I’m still scared to approach the physical workplace because I’m physically and socially disabled, I don’t know what the stress of work will do to me anymore. Also, getting people to comply with the ADA is like pulling teeth, and most people would realize I need accommodations and just not hire me.

So while mom was being supportive and saying she’d pay for some of the stuff I’m stressed about having to choose between… I remember when she used to threaten to kill me because of how much money she wastes on me. I remember the screaming matches. I have spent my life trying to be worthy of existing, trying to pay my own way and not need anyone to pay for me, and being back where I was at the height of moms abuse is… harrowing. Hearing her be so supportive and comforting is a dissonance that makes my skin crawl because… no. I look at her and think, “but you hate me for SPECIFICALLY this. You’ve said so. For almost 30 years. Many times and in many ways.”

I remember being the burden, the thing that ruined moms life (as well as the only thing keeping her alive, yes at the same time) the reason she never had money or got to do the things she wanted to do— etc etc. It’s not something I’m just gonna let go of and feel less stressed over, that’s the nature of the C-PTSD I got from this whole ordeal growing up.

Anyhow. That’s how my day’s been.

[amandachristine92]

A Little New York Yankees Rant

The whole 2023 season of the New York Yankees has been mediocre or average in general. What really infuriated me were the last two games that the Yankees played.

The second to last games was against the Houston Astros at Yankee Stadium. That game was a complete train wreck with how RHP Carlos Rodón crumbled once again in his pitching performance. Rodón had a solid 1-2-3 first inning, but started to let up the HR balls in the second and third innings, respectively. One of those home runs was hit by Astros CF Jake Meyers, which was a three-run shot, the first of two three-runs HRs by him in that game.

Anyway, what added insult to insult to injury (literally and figuratively) was that Rodón couldn’t even finish the third inning due to a left hamstring strain and was promptly taken out of the game by the Yankees medical staff/trainers and manager Aaron Boone. Rodón would end up going on the 15-day Injured List (IL) for this left hamstring strain the very next day.

Throughout the rest of this last game of the series against the Astros at home, the Yankees had plenty of opportunities to comeback, score multiple runs, and win this game. This would’ve led to a series win against the Astros instead of a split.

When the Yankees first tried to come back against the Astros, a handful of walks and a single by outfielder Harrison Bader led to the Yankees tying the score 5-5. The Astros starting and relief pitchers were nothing to write home about in this game. They walked at least seven Yankees batters and yet, the Yankees couldn’t break the tie score.

This would end up costing them latter as LHP Wandy Peralta came in to relieve Jhony Brito. Brito was the one who took over for Rodón. Peralta seemed to get in his own head after home plate umpire Angel Hernandez called a balk against the left-handed pitcher. Peralta was the one who gave up a second three-run HR to Meyers, making it 8-5 Astros.

After that, Peralta gave up a solo shot to catcher Martin Maldonado, who’s hitting under .200 this season (below the Mendoza line). It was now 9-5 Astros; they got the runs back that they gave up mainly through walks.

Fast forward to later innings, the Yankees would mount a second comeback, resulting in a two-run deficit at 9-7. The second rally was not enough to garner a win and the Yankees lost to the Astros 9-7.

Yesterday, when I saw the lineup that was posted for the road game against the Chicago White Sox, I was curious to see Isiah Kiner-Falefa being benched and Billy McKinney getting the nod in left field. I was even more disgusted to learn via X (formerly known as Twitter) that IKF has a .400 career average against last night’s starting pitcher for the White Sox Dylan Cease and Boone was sitting him.

Cease wasn’t even that effective at his start last night. The Yankees once again couldn’t capitalize on the walks they received and runners in scoring position (RISP) in general. The only mistake that Yankees starter Gerrit Cole made last night was to White Sox first baseman Andrew Vaughn, who hit a two-run HR off of Cole.

At some point during last night’s game, Boone made the move to pinch hit IFK in catcher Ben Rortvedt’s spot in the lineup. However, Cease was no longer pitching in this game and IFK ended up flying out to the outfield for an out.

What made last night’s loss so much worse was this: right-handed reliever Tommy Kahnle giving up three additional runs to the White Sox when the Yankees were already down 2-1 in the box score. Ironically, Kahnle had a terrible game on his 34th birthday and screwed the Yankees out of ever mounting a comeback.

Kahnle even had a meltdown — his second one in a couple weeks — in the dugout after the inning was said and done. The Yankees would go on to lose to the White Sox 5-1. The White Sox are not a great team in the standings and they’re terrible in regards to clubhouse morale from what I’ve heard listening to last night’s game.

The newest Yankee and former White Sox pitcher, Keynan Middleton, even said so himself. I appreciate his brutal honesty. However, there’s a unwritten rule about not dissing your former team and throwing them under the bus. Middleton didn’t have to comment as much as he did, but what’s done is done.

A side note about the White Sox: I don’t typically condone violence or revenge, but I do believe that White Sox shortstop Tim Anderson had that punch by Cleveland Guardians third baseman (Jose Ramirez) coming. Someone needed to put Anderson in his place due to his antics and overall attitude.

Also, even though Cole accidentally hit Anderson with a pitch because he wasn’t as sharp as he normally is, I had a big smile on my face.

I say these things because Yankees Josh Donaldson got suspended a year or so ago after calling Anderson “Jackie.” This was completely blown out of proportion and taken out of context. Donaldson, who probably shouldn’t have said anything to begin with, called Anderson “Jackie” because Anderson himself called himself the new Jackie Robinson in a Sport Illustrated article a few years ago.

Donaldson was simply referencing Anderson’s quote, not being racially derogatory. However, MLB didn’t see it that way, probably because Anderson made such a big stink about it. Yes, I understand that it’s coincidental that both Anderson and Robinson are Black. Again, at the end of the day, Donaldson was just calling Anderson “Jackie” due to that Sports Illustrated article quote.

Unfortunately, this is where things like cancel culture as well as the woke movement/culture gets out of hand. This is how Black Lives Matter (BLM) gets abused.

Trust me: I’m a believer in every race, ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation and/or identity receiving fair treatment and opportunities. I’m half Dominican and half Italian/Silician. My mom was born in the Dominican Republic and is Dominican (a Hispanic ethnicity/origin), and my dad was born in New Jersey to an Italian-American dad and a Silician-American mom.

However, when fighting for equality and rights continue to create division and toxicity in our society, that’s when I want to stay out of the picture.

Now, getting off of my political soapbox, go Yankees! Please win two out of three games against the White Sox to win this series! You have to do better this month into September in order to even make a wild card spot!