#just working through some stuff

[sanguinebats]

Drop ur super angsty fic recs down below pls.

Need em for science. 🧐

[crowskyler]

About a month ago, my grandmother — my last living grandparent, on my dad's side — died. I've been wanting to sit down and write about it, but I haven't been able to actually do it before now.

It wasn't a shock. Her health had been declining for several months, and she'd been moved into hospice care roughly a month or so before. Two types of cancer and various other kinds of organ problems were the culprit. At 95, treatment options were limited, and she'd refused to do anything about it for months. I know this seemed to frustrate my dad, who went right into fight mode the second she needed to go to the hospital. He was carving out a plan with a specialist while my grandmother was sent to a physical therapy and care facility, where he had to fight her insurance tooth and nail — despite her not having able to walk more than a few feet.

Then a doctor from her plan got in touch with him and asked him why he was putting her through this. She was in so much pain from everything. He wanted to fight, but she didn't; she was over it. The doctor managed to convince my dad that she needed hospice care, to put together a plan to make her comfortable. And it worked. My grandmother was in much less pain when she passed, thanks to painkillers. When my dad told me she'd stopped eating, I knew what was about to happen. But my mind didn't really know what to do with the information.

I was at work when he called me, cleaning rooms at the hotel. Luckily it was a slow day and I only had to work a little bit more before I could go home, but I had to come in the next day. I was fine — unless someone talked to me about it, and then I was an instant crying wreck. I couldn't talk about it at all. My coworkers gave me a few hugs — the only people who did, and I'm grateful to them — and I managed to mostly get through the day, blessedly having two days off after that to attempt to process everything.

Or, I thought I was processing. But as I've come to realize, it was much slower than that.

My grandmother was the last of her friends to go, something that I'm sure made her feel pained and lonely; her best friend had died roughly a year ago, a lovely lady named Dorothy whom she'd talked to multiple times a day, for decades. Losing Dorothy took something out of her. Maybe that was the start of all of this. When my grandmother had been admitted to the hospital nearly 4 months ago, I'd started to see the writing on the wall. I'd already done some grieving and worrying. When she passed, I was able to feel a little glad that at least she wouldn't suffer anymore, laying in that bed and wanting to go back home.

As it turned out, my dad and the rest of my family very quickly went into practicality mode. My coworkers had put together a little lump sum for us, very kindly, and I offered to pay for a meal for all of us. A wake situation, or celebration of life — whatever you want to call it. My dad seemed bemused by the offer. Nothing's been organized. Instead, the project has been my grandmother's home. He offered for my sister and brother-in-law to buy it, and that's what they've decided to do, and now that's consumed everything. Sorting belongings, contracts, and finding an estate sale service to clear out everything we don't want. We're still in the middle of that. My sister sold her house and has about two more weeks until they have to move out. The estate sale will be this weekend, I think.

It's not my place to organize a celebration of life, or anything like that, but I've felt the absence. We had a wake for my mom a week after she died. Now, nothing. Just divvying up her belongings. Maybe we're waiting until my uncle can come down from where he lives, in about a month or so, I don't know. But my grief has sat nearly raw within me for weeks. When I go over to my grandmother's house to help out, it threatens to overwhelm me at least once. But with the exception of my brother coming over and breaking down a few times, my family's shown almost no emotion except on the actual day — when I heard it in my dad's voice. It's weird. Aren't we supposed to be commiserating and celebrating her in this time? But instead they're just gutting her house and acting like all of this is such a nuisance.

It's strange to get a hug from my coworkers and not my actual family. The silence has been deafening, from them and from the friends I've told. It's fine. I keep myself operating — mostly. And the lack of anything gave me a revelation, of sorts. When I was fifteen, I decided that I wanted to write. That's what I wanted to do more than anything. When I cleaned out a folder at her house, I found a story I wrote when I was a kid. Just some nonsense, but my grandmother had kept it for all of these years. She'd been an avid reader and had always wanted to read my writing, but after my mother had done so — and criticized it horribly — I became cagey about letting my family read anything. I'd wanted to become a published author, to present my grandma with a book she could read; to make her proud. But that hasn't happened. Depression and full time work have been a huge setback for years. And now she's gone, and I never had anything to show her.

I have many fond memories of waking up in the sun on her couch, while hearing the strum of my grandfather's guitar or the gentle brush on his drums, and smelling their coffee while my grandmother made us pancakes. My grandmother loved pizza, and she would often get it for dinner while I was there — and then we would have a cold slice of pizza for breakfast the next morning, another of her favorite things. She would give me a mini art lesson in the afternoon, or take me out for a walk, or let me play with all of her bead-making materials. In the late afternoon, she'd give me gardening tips while we weeded her yard and checked her tomatoes. In the evening we'd watch television. I'd sometimes beg to watch a nature documentary, which she was also happy to watch, or I'd content myself with whatever she found. On Saturday mornings we'd all watch cartoons together.

My grandmother was the most supportive person I knew as a kid, she would always listen to what I had to say. Even if she found it silly or weird, she would answer with words that made it clear that I was heard. As a teen who struggled with self esteem, it was everything to me. It's hard to accept that we can never talk about animals again (a mutual love of ours), or art; it's even harder to know that I'll never be able to listen to another of her lovely and funny stories. She had so many funny stories about the shenanigans of past pets and friends, and interesting stories about growing up in a rural and much less developed California. She taught me everything that I know about gardening.

And now I have to accept that I disappointed her, just like I've disappointed everyone else.

She would never say so, to be clear; she would hug me and tell me that she loves me no matter what, because that's the kind of person she was. If I said anything like this to her, she would tell me that I'm enough, I'm sure. But I've never managed anything impressive, or even average, and I know people in this family view me as a failure. I wish, desperately, that I had been able to do something to show her otherwise. Instead, I'll just have this emptiness for the rest of my life. No wonder so many people think of the afterlife as a shining place above, where you can watch your family below; future triumphs could be viewed by the dead, giving you comfort in life.

I hope writing down some of this has calmed the churning parts of me that haven't found any rest, these past few weeks. I'd like to start healing from this profound misery.

[egophiliac]

we were fucking ROBBED

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

this toxicity is going to kill me

but I can't stem the flow

it pulses out of my pores

and slicks all over the floor

i lose my footing again

and cast the blame on you

but i'm the one pumping poison

shoving you out of the door

[ninjasmudge]

cult of the lamb has some really cool visuals and the accent color is my fave so i really wanted to do some post-game designs and doodles to get out of an art slump

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing about ik is that she will always reach out

[vynnyal]

OK, fair warning to the few people I actually managed to convince to try the game??

Rain world does NOT play like hollow knight, and you'll get your butt kicked if you approach it like that.

It's really hard. Like, really hard. Instead of the game literally giving you abilities in the form of power-ups and damage buffs, the only abilities you gain is from what you learn and your own ingenuity. You're a rat from beginning to end. If you just beef your way through it, it's gonna suck and you're gonna be confused and frustrated all the time. But if you pay attention, take it slow, and learn how the ai works and how everything interacts with each other, you can consistently get through and dominate situations you thought were impossible to do so when you first began. Now get out there, kill some lizards, and bully some old computers!

[julykings]

the last bits of 2023

[ghostespresso]

staff logging on to tumblr dot com today

[corntired]

Fanfiction is so goated actually

No monetary incentive, just writing in one's free time. Some incentive for like kudos and comments, because who doesn't want to hear that someone else enjoyed what they wrote. Just writing a story that is good and/or enjoyable, no real-life pressure to keep it going because god forbid you and other people are depending on it financially.

Writing a story because you want to write a good story, so you can write what they want the way you want, at a pace that is realistic for you, with exactly the plot pacing you want there to be.

[dizzybizz]

hawthorne sprite HAWTHORNE SPRITE!!!!!!!! yippee

[katabay]

L'APPEL DU VIDE

okay so. jack! jack. what a collection of guys. the overlap between jack and the beanstalk and jack the giant killer, though. that sure is something! sometimes king arthur is there, which always takes me by surprise.

this. specifically. is an idea I've been kicking around. jack and the beanstalk is not a story I've ever enjoyed, as a kid it was probably my least favorite to read. as an adult, I was INTENSELY fascinated by reading j.g. ballard's the drowned giant. I think about it frequently, and somewhere during a re read of it, I ended up revisiting jack.

combining different versions of jack into one character is not a new concept, but it IS a fun one! the version I've been assembling together plays less with the fun elements of a jack story (and adjacent folklore stories), and focuses more on the potential for tragic elements with the addition of the usual grim and jagged narrative edges that I personally enjoy.

jack with the backstory of the devil and the three golden hairs, only jack doesn't find love, he's TIRED, all he wants to do is go home, but there isn't a home to go back to. what is the point of being born lucky if this is what it gets you? jack the giant killer, only he doesn't want to kill giants, jack who saw a body of a giant when he was a small child and cannot bring himself to do as a king commands. jack, who climbs up the beanstalk and stops halfway to look down. etc.

to go back to the drowned giant real quick, both to set the tone about jack seeing the body of a giant as a youth, and also because I've been haunted and obsessed with this excerpt of it ever since I read it:

J. G. Ballard, The Drowned Giant

anyway! this was originally like, a two illustration concept to get out of my system. however. I'm halfway through outlining a narrative. so. maybe it will also be several illustrations and also comic.

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

[clownsuu]

Ay. An offer; one doodle of lovelie for the price of answering my question 🦅

Eh? Eh?— Anyways my question is; what’s an art tip you can give that really helped you? Anything special when drawing or do you just have a hand of god?

(Btw your one of my favorite artists and I love seeing your work homie, number 1 inspo fr. Keep on cookin 🦅💞)

WAHHH THEY LOOK SO SCRUNGLYYYY (despite his many, m a n y crimes)

[marsisnotgreen]

I think part of the reason people want to see Timmy Turner in the new series is so they get a proper ending from him. The show went on for a few more seasons after Channel Chasers and nickelodeon just slowly let it die. I don’t think I remember a grand finale at all after Chloe’s addition. The show just simply died that’s all.

Not that I want Timmy to immediately show up or anything, but it would make some good closure if he did. I think it would be neat if he showed up in later seasons like a season finale or specials character as it wouldn’t make sense imo to have him appear in earlier seasons, especially considering he’s the one character the show is trying to move away from.

[buglvr24]

why why why is putting clothes away and keeping my room clean so difficult. it literally feel torturous sometimes. i know i need to try and do difficult things. i was trying to clean and i was like “i wish i could just have two laundry baskets. one for dirty clothes and one for clean.”

and my mom said, “you can’t do that”

so i said “well why not if it would help me keep my room cleaner and work for me”

and she said “well then what’s the point of having a closet and drawers, and your clothes would be all wrinkled, and you’d never be able to find anything.”

she’s right and i’d love to have everything put perfectly away but it’s just so much sometimes