#this isnt love

[duck-4]

Got Greedy

"and if you want to call it ---- go ahead,

the shower i can admit i got greedy or whatever

and i shouldnt have done that one"

You're right. shouldnt have done that

"This accident that both of us caused

is not going to be pinned on just me"

You're right. I took the blame too

Im reminded every time I roll over to look

At your sleeping face

-kf

[ofduskanddreams]

What Lies Inside CH 25 teaser:

[Azriel’s POV]

Eris was waiting for him to reply aloud, to confront his answer and what it would mean.

A memory surfaced. The lake’s softly lapping waves, the piney alpine air unique to that swath of land between steppe and mountain, the stomach-swooping, fist-clenching, heart-in-throat feeling flooding him as his boot toyed with the edge of the rockface high above the water.

It was, he realized, a sensation identical to what he was currently experiencing. It was the adrenaline heady, trepidation-limned moment before his wings would spread and his legs would leap unsure of whether he’d plummet or soar, but jumping all the same.

[julygirl67]

Things a Narcassistic person does to suck you back in after a discard

They will like your posts on social media or comment..this would be weeks or months after a discard. They will text your freind or family memeber to ask how you are doing. This is only if they know your freinds or family. They will definetly text you with a hi how are you. This is a minimum effort to show you some attention. If someone truly cares and wants you in thier life they do not throw you breadcrumbs. This hey how are you will happen once in a while over a period of time. Do not reply...its just for an ego boost or they are suffering a moment of bordum. They will stalk your social media page. They will chat you up, future fake, apologize, lament about how hurt they are how sorry they are and how depressed they are. This may go on for a few days even a onth..then they dissapear again. Once you think they are in for good this time..they leave again. This feels lik another rejection because it is. They may say lets meet up, i miss you, we need to talk and never ever follow through. After a second or third discard...do yourself a favor...block them from social media and your phone. I know its difficult. You will want to hear from them but is it worth the hurt? After they give you attention and then leace...you get let down again. yes? yea...so give them a chance maybe a third chance but after that...you see its a pattern. trust patterns not words.

[chiisana-lion]

[thissmycomingofage]

- Left-wing deputies of the newly formed French parliament refusing to shake hand with the member of the far-right tasked with guarding the ballot

[plainolpuppet]

You still visit me in my dreams. You still trail across my lips in sad song. I miss you. But we are better off apart. I hope you are well.

[deathwillsaveme]

You are fucking useless to me if I still have to deal with these feelings alone

[aterfish]

i love ways the word 'halfa' can be interpreted

[xtrablak674]

I am Alive

I'm trying to remember if there are any picture of my father and me together after this image, and I don't think there are any, ergo my using this photo as the thumbnail for this entry. Addendum, I had used the photo I was talking about as a thumbnail on another entry and decided to change it with this scan of my father's public benefits card also from nineteen ninety-one, its like the story writes itself.

According to the postcard the year is nineteen ninety-one and the date is November twenty-ninth, the things that are immediately clear to me is that this isn't my campus address, and Ithaca is spelled incorrectly.

Context is very important so Dear Reader I will give you some, maybe with in a year or two after the above photograph my father moved back into his parents household where I was already residing in their former living room having been turned into a bedroom for their first-born grandchild after the passing of his mom maybe a year or two before this photo is taken.

Curiously as I did my yoga this morning I was thinking about this trucker hat that I used to own, I remember it being two shades of blue with a white plastic mesh, and as I was taking another look I am actually wearing this hat in the picture below. Its funny to me because behind the scenes my subconscious has been putting together the pieces of this journal entry in subtle ways. Last week I was sharing the postcard from my father with my nephew when we were sharing college experiences.

As usual I have gotten off-topic, but my father had moved into my 'bedroom' and we shared the pull-out bed in the couch. Interestingly I hadn't shared a bedroom since I was maybe four or five years younger, my mom had moved me into my older brother's bedroom in our apartment feeling I had the need for a bit more privacy and my father sharing a bed and room with me was a double regression, one for him and one for me.

I am feeling hesitant in how to proceed because I am not sure if I have written about how the man who had been my best-friend for most of my life turned on me, and attempted to murder me right in his parent's home which he had returned to.

I will say this our relationship was never the same after the attempted, well which is it manslaughter or more appropriately boyslaughter, or is it attempted murder? According to a Google search its all about intention, so I think this was totally murder. But thats not what I want to write about, I want to write about this postcard and the desperation that is laced in it.

When recounting the experience years later in therapy Ms. Kennedy asked me, did someone call the police? The saying, you could have knocked me over with a feather could never have been more appropriate. I had never even considered at the time that filicide is indeed a thing, there is literally a word for when a parent attempts to exterminate their offspring. The only defense I have for my grandparents is they made him leave the next day, so I only had to spend one night with the man who attempted to extinguish my life, there couldn't be anything traumatic about that, could there? #sarcasm

As an adult I can admit that folks all around were trying to do their best, it had to be hard for my grandparents to have to choose their grandchild over their first-born child, but I was the minor and legally under their care, my safety had to be put first. Writing about this now this feels like such an abstraction for me, never in my entire life I would have guessed that my own father would be the person who would attempt to assassinate me for ultimately being too much like him, not that there is ever any excuse for an adult to lay hands on a child.

I am not saying I made it through childhood unscathed, but the monsters or villains of my youth were usually people who weren't related to me. Like Marvin Church my god-grandma's eldest son who did things to me that a forty year old man should have never done to a ten year old. My father's girlfriend Patricia Jackson had beaten me in the head until I was unconscious I think the first time in my childhood I had lost consciousness. Whatever would lead me to believe that my dad would join these brutes as one of the people who weren't looking out for my best interest?

Back to the postcard, I can see that this wasn't any off-the-cuff postcard, some serious thought had went into its selection pairing humor with morbidity, an appropriate reading of his sense of humor which is also mirrored in my own humor.

Back of postcard:

"Name of Item

The letter you were expecting has been placed on back order.

We expect to ship within the next year.

Thank you for your patience."

He clearly was in his feelings about my lack of contact since I had left for college. Small context about college, I had done all of the necessary documents, applications, paid fees all on my own. My grandparents nor him had any part in my getting into the private college in upstate New York. Out of the five that I applied to I am even surprise they found out which one I was accepted to, maybe someone from my high school helped them with that piece of evidence, because I didn't share my acceptance letter with any of them.

Well it seems I need more of an explanatory comma here, at eighteen I was more than ready to leave my grandparents house, my burgeoning sexuality had caused tensions between me and the matriarch of the house leading to many terse conversations.

I was not only coming into my own, but taking the steps to realize those dreams without any input or participation of the adults in the household. There may have been some resentment on her part because it must have been embarrassing when her friends or sisters inquired where was I and she didn't have a clear idea. This probably lead to my eviction and subsequent homelessness that would happen within months of this postcard.

Front of postcard:

"I am alive.

As are your paternal grandparents.

How about you?

Please advise.

Am still working on the w.p.

I love you very much.

Aṣẹ

V.O.M.-C.M."

I have to pause a minute, I seriously thought this journal entry would be about this piece of hard paper that has been living in a collage on the wall of my bathroom, but emotionally there are feelings tangled up in how we got to this postcard, some that I didn't even anticipate. For a moment I believed that this would probably be a humorous short entry with a couple of photos. But there was so much more to unpack.

"I am alive."

Curiously two years after this postcard nearly to the month he wouldn't be alive. He'd be found in his apartment body rotted for weeks in the un-air conditioned enclosure of his Harlem apartment. The same address which is a stamp near the bottom of this missive. With his death my orphanage would begin in earnest having less than ten years with my mom and fifteen with my father, albeit I was in my early twenties when he died, after his assault I never saw him again.

"As are your paternal grandparents."

His father would die eighteen years after this postcard and his moms thirty years later peacefully in her sleep at home.

The most curious thing is he feels the need to distinguish his parents as opposed to my moms parents. She was the one who asked them to take me in case of her death, he wasn't even under consideration as a choice because he hadn't shown a level of stability in his adult life that she could trust to be conducive to raising a child. Ergo she asked his very responsible, stable and capable parents to take in his first born child. His simple sentence is laced with an un-earned self-satisfaction that I was under his parents, my grandparents care. But I think what he's missing is I should have been under his care. He was only reflecting his own failure as a parent. #idiot

"How about you?"

Well, I am guessing if you thought I was dead you wouldn't actually be writing to me. There's not much to say about that. I think I fully had cause to not want to have contact with him or his parents who non-verbally condoned his violence by not having him arrested.

"Please advise?"

I can assure the studio audience that I didn't respond to this inquiry, nor did I feel it necessary to do so. I was enjoying the freedom of young adulthood and learning so much about life attending this away-from-home college living amongst people I couldn't even imagine associating with.

"Am still working on the w.p."

This is the saddest thing in this postcard, because once again it emphasizes my father's failures. I think months before I was set to go to college he had asked me if I needed anything, that in itself was odd because at no time prior had he ever attempted to take on a parental role. He usually enjoyed embracing the role of friend or compatriot not a figure of authority or rule.

He had also never directly asked me about my needs or wants. And sadly he was decades too late! I had become very self-sufficient as a young adult having not only held a job consistently since I was fourteen but also going to school full-time and doing volunteer work at theatre downtown.

His asking me for what I wanted was a foreign and new feeling to me and I recall being taken aback because I had never even considered him as a person who would support me in anyway beyond the comic books he bought for himself that he gave me after he read. I said a word processor, clearly dating myself, but also being practical. A manual typewriter would have been unwieldy but a word processor would be useful in college a place where writing papers was the norm. But it would never come. I bought my first computer a used Macintosh SE from a junior high school friend.

"I love you very much."

I am guessing in his way he did albeit I don't think he did a good job of showing it physically. Unlike my other siblings father's he was at least more present, I visited with him much more than the other dads would visit with their children. So maybe this was love. The thing it had been tainted because of his actions towards me which he never apologized or made reparations for.

He may have been alive, but he had been dead to me for a long time, and in '93 his status had caught up with his body and he was truly dead.

[Photos by Brown Estate]

[sealsdaily]

Seal noises please?

awawawawawawa.....

[bigolialragu]

hecate

(print)

[stars-and-birds]

Dana’s last ‘fuck you’ to Disney

He/they collector

Genderqueer/bi-gender papa king

TWO girlfriend kisses

Onscreen mlm kiss

Implied aladarius

a happy ending to the bi/enby couple

A happy ending to the aro/ace character

And

Death to the white Christian puritain

[stiffyck]

Good luck during pride month to all the aroaces who are gonna be blasted with "love is love" everywhere

Edit:

This post includes aplatonic people, loveless aros and any other people who fall anywhere on the aro and ace spectrum.

Stop saying "but theres platonic love and familial love-"

[candelasobscura]

please enjoy this eastern grass owl. owls are so important to me please observe him

guys pls i just found this photo on pinterest, idk the situation of this owl, i just thought it was cute, chill 😭 i know its bad to keep animals as pets and idk the situation here. pleeeease chill out, i thought it was cute

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[tadfools]

You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?

You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on a chapter at three am is right?? Right????

You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?