my grandma has one of these

kdotjay-draws-and-reblogs  asked:

are you also a grandma?

I’m a grandma twice, with one of the grandkids being almost 2 years older than my own youngest child.

I’m a mom-in-law twice, which means my original 7 living kids has grown to 9.

I’m the mom of a ex-marine-corporal trucker and the wife of a trucker.

I’m a wife for the 2nd and last time, to a man 29 years younger than me and 5 years younger than my eldest kid.

I’m an excellent cook and baker, a saponiere, a knitter and fiber artist, a tattoo artist, and a homeschool teacher for 26 years now (and not done). I ride a motorcycle.  I forget how old I am, because I secretly refuse to believe I’m not 17.

Thanks for askin’.

Mom Adopts a “Dog”

So y’all keep blowing up my notes with the various Family Lore stories I’ve been telling, so I guess I should tell one on my parents now.

My Mother’s Father was part of the United Auto Worker’s Union, and during the 50′s and 60′s, was on strike a lot. My point is, grandpa got himself an entirely deserved reputation for being a sucker who loved animals, so people would dump thier pets on him. Hence, my mother grew up in a house with pets such as Picket the one-eyed tomcat, Tweety the Bald canary, Dummy the cat, Stupid Son of Dummy, Spooky Garbage Dog and Chiquita the Tarantula.  Eventually Grandma put her foot down when Grandpa brought home Gerta the Saint Bernard.

I say all this because it provides some context for how the following occured.

Mom and Dad had just moved in together (my parents dated for six years and were engaged for 13 days, driving everyone on both sides insane), and unfortunately, My mother’s German Shepherd, Cops, has just passed away due to bone cancer.  After mourning for a bit, Mom and Dad decided to get a dog together, as a couple.  

For context, my father had never owned a dog in his life.  His mother had ‘Pretty Bird” the budgie as a child but parrots are alien life forms, not pets.

So they go to the Palo Alto Animal shelter to adopt.  The year was 1987, and at the time, Palo Alto was… not a great place.  Lots of drugs, gangs and poor civic managment.  Mom told me that she learned to identify different types of gunfire while living there. They get there, and mom explains that she’s always had a preference for Big Dogs, and the guy’s face lights up.  Oh Yes, he says, We have a Big Dog.  For expirienced owners, yep, adoptable today, here we’ll give you a discount even-

Somehow my parents were not suspicious about this.

They were shown to the Animal in question, a Gorgeous blue-sable beastie with pretty golden eyes who immediately pressed herself against the fence and gave them the best PUH-LEEEEEEASE TAKE ME HOME puppy eyes 100lbs of canine can do.  Mom and Dad fall in love instantly.  They sign all the paperwork and take her home for $10, and name her “Mazel” as in “Mazel Tov.”

Within the hour, it becomes clear that something is amiss.

Cops had lived with his kibble stored in a plastic garbage can in the garage for six years without incident.  Mazel figured out how to open doors and got the locking lid off the can in six minutes, horking down about four pounds of the stuff before my mother notices that it’s been weirdly quiet.  Most dogs bark at or chase squirrels.  Mazel stalked and caught one the second day, presenting it to my mother like an offering.  Mazel knew all her commands but would clearly stop to consider before obeying, and trained my dad to give her good treats within a week.  The locks on the side-yard gate were undone, and she took a stroll around the neighborhood, but always retuned home for dinner.

After a week of gradually realizing that Mazel was smarter than most of the professors my mom worked with, they took her to the Vet for a routine checkup.

Dr. Hamada walked into the exam room, dropped the clip-board and said “Where the HELL did you get a Wolf?”

After a bit of prodding and a very-angry-dr.hamada-calling-the-pound, they determined Mazel was a high-content hybrid, probably with a husky, but was going to be a lil shit her entire life.  OK, said Hamada, I don’t like destroying animals and you’ve got a lot of expirience with dogs, so I’m okay with letting you keep her, but you should keep her away from small children because her Prey Drive could kick in.

Two years later, mom got pregnant with me.

Mazel noticed instantly, and reacted by digging a large hole in the yard and catching even more squirrels for mom, because she needed the protein or something.  That what you do when the Alpha Bitch is preggers, right?  Dig a den and ply her with food?  On the advice of my grandmother, my mom stayed overnight at the hospital once I was delivered, and dad went home with a shirt that had moms and my scent on it.  Mazel spent the whole night puzzling over it.

The next morning, when mom came home with me, there was the sudden and instantaneous recognition of PUPPY!!!!!! :D:D:D!!!!! PUUUUUUUPPY!!!!!!  and Mazel turned into the most aggressively maternal being I’ve ever met.  Playing with me on the blanket, sitting under my chair at meals (I was a messy eater), sleeping under my crib, teaching me to walk by letting me hang onto her fur and shuffle around.

Dr. Hamada thought mom was a madwoman, until he saw me holding Mazel’s mouth open and sticking my face in so i could look at her teeth.  He gave up when my mom announced she was pregnant with my sister.

I’m making living with a Wolfdog sound awesome, but it did come with some drawbacks:

  • Mazel did have to be muzzled at the vets, because she had Opinions about having things stuck up her butt.
  • HAIR.  One of my chores growing up was to brush her out every week and I’d frequently end up with more hair than animal.
  • the only way we could reliably get her to stay in the yard was with an overhead tether with a STEEL cable, which she chewed through anyway.
  • Do you like waking up by being hit in the face with half a dead animal? No? Wolfdogs may not be for you.
  • More than capable of opening the fridge and eating everything if you’re not watching
  • Will get into everything if not otherwise occupied.  Including eating your tax forms.
  • Howls along with sirens at 4 AM.

PROS of growing up with a wolfdog, as a small child in the 90′s

  • I was afforded a degree of freedom normally associated with a pokemon trianer. It was no big deal for me and my sister to walk three miles through my not-really-good neighborhood to the Froyo if I took Mazel with us. People tended to leave us alone when we had 100lbs of overprotective Apex Predator following us around.
  • WINNING at Pet Day at school.  There wasn’t actually a compettion but Billy’s hamster sucks in comparison to an animal that is perfectly willing to demonstrate how she can snap an oak branch in half on command.
  • PTA moms losing their shit because Mazel would walk down the block by herself to come pick ups up from school.
  • Grew up associating the word “Bitch” with teeth and the willingness to rip an asshole’s face off for being rude.  Never changed the definition.
  • Learned the I-Own-This Strut and Murder-Stare from the absolute best.

When she was 17, Mom and Dad decided to add another room on to the house.  They rigged up the overhead tether so she could be outside but not underfoot for the contruction guys.  One morning, mom came out to notice them all milling in the side yard entrance, muttering worriedly.  When mom asked what was wrong, one of them explained that Carlos forgot to bring the Hamburger.  What do you need a hamburger for?  Asked mom, and they pointed down the side yard to where Mazel was sitting, doing her best Viscious Alpha Bitch Stare.

Apparently they’d never realized that she was on the VERY end of her tether there and couldn’t actually get to them, and had been scamming them for a big mac a day for a month.  Mom had my six-year-old sister pull her away to show she wasn’t dangerous and tired her best not to laugh but kind of failed.

Mazel ended up living to be 19 and a half, and except for some minor arthritis, remarkably hale until the day she passed away in her hole in the back yard while taking a nap.  I maintain that Death had to wait until she was sleeping to get a crack at her, or she would’ve taken his scythe for a chew toy.

Ugh. Reading a whole lot of ‘queer history’ posts on Tumblr that are exclusively North American. Elsewhere in the world, we have a different history, a different lexicon and different experiences. I have a different experience of coming out 21 years ago than someone in the USA would. Our politics were slightly different here, and still are.

For example ‘queer’ is just a mainstream word here in Australia. Perhaps some very old people (I’m thinking my late grandma) may have used it to mean ‘strange’, but I only ever heard the word referring to people who weren’t of mainstream sexes, sexualities or genders. The first time I heard that it was a slur was when a teenager demanded that I stop using ‘a slur’ to identify myself on my own Tumblr.  

I know Tumblr has a lot of US folks on it, but I think it’s important to remember that the USA is just one country, there are nearly 200 others. Your history is not everyone’s history. Your experience is not everyone’s experience. I will be respectful of your experiences where appropriate, but you also need to be respectful of mine. And that includes not trying to make me ashamed of the word that I use as my identity for any reason. 

This is the Jataí, a bee native to Brazil. Like all bees native to Brazil, she has no stinger and is super chill (nowadays we have bees with stingers, but they all came from Europe and Africa).

They like to build their hives inside nooks in solid rock or concrete and make a distinctive tube-like entrance that is carefully guarded against predators.

They’re really tiny and aren’t at all bothered by humans getting close to their hive so long as we leave them alone - my grandma had a hive on one of the walls in her yard for over 25 years, right by the narrow staircase that went up to the second level of the house where my gran lived (my cousin lived on the bottom half) and those gals gave zero fucks that a bunch of pinkish giants would stomp by their doorway on a regular basis.

I could stick my face right by their hive to watch them from close up and so long as I didn’t disrupt traffic absolutely no fucks were ever given.

Some of y’all are asking about the ritual with the scotch, so HERE IS A STORY THAT SPANS SEVERAL GENERATIONS OF SHENNANIGANS.

So my dad’s side of the family is a bunch of rowdy farm boys with a dark sense of humor. My oldest uncle Tim was the first to get married and the rest of them orchestrated this complicated, almost medieval style dance routine on the dance floor where they would switch dance partners mid-song and slowly danced the bride towards the door, swept her up, put her in the back of the pickup truck, and took her away.

Tim doesn’t notice until the song ends. This was in the 70′s, way before cell phones. The front desk of the hotel gets a call, it’s one of my uncles. “We have your wife. The price is one bottle of scotch.”

He’s like ‘what is this shit?’ And he figures they can’t hold out too long. They have to come back sometime. No. They are literally driving her around the block several times, stopping at pay phones to check in to see if he’s gotten the ransom. This goes on for about an hour.

So he goes out and gets a bottle of scotch, puts it by the door as they drive by and everyone returns.

All the boys got married in the order of their birth and let me just say… they’re not above petty payback. Next one up is Jay who just… seems to forget entirely that his brothers are complete jackasses. Also, he was kind of the ringleader at the last one so there’s no way they could do it to him!

Haha… ha…. haaaaaaaa… oh, uncle Jay. You sweet summer child… who is also several decades older than me. 

Bride gets kidnapped, almost in the same manner as Tim’s. The price, as always, is a bottle of scotch. But Jay… oh… Jay…

Jay just HAD to get his ass married on a Sunday and this is Indiana, buck-o. There ain’t no alcohol sales on Sundays. No liquor stores, no grocery stores, no convenience stores. Nowhere. But there WAS a bar at the Marriott holding the reception. So he had to pay the front desk $75 for a bottle of scotch maybe worth $20 so he could get his wife back. 

A pattern emerges. 

My uncle Moe was next in line. They…. eloped for reasons, but for the purposes of this story we will say that he avoided a situation where his brothers could steal his wife. It’s kind of a personality thing with him, we’ve noticed. Just… ‘oh! Let me avoid this conflict entirely.’ 

Next up is my dad, who is a fun-loving dude who had his reception at a bowling alley and he was NOT, I repeat: NOT- going to have this night ruined by larceny when there is IMPORTANT BOWLING TO BE DONE. Buys a bottle of scotch and and presents it to his brothers with a big audience just so no one can claim that he didn’t. Everyone has fun. 

Moe’s first marriage falls through, and I’m not saying that there’s superstitious reasons for this but I’m just saying- he most certainly DID NOT present a bottle of scotch as an offering at the reception so we must reasonably assume that this had something to do with it. He gets married again and you better believe that there was a bottle of scotch waiting for his brothers at their table. 

So this tradition carried on into the next generation. No one actually expects that the four of them are up to kidnapping anyone when they’re well into their 50′s, but no one is about to risk it. There is a bottle of scotch at the table where the brothers sit at every wedding. 

But my cousin Julia is a perfectionist and if there is any detail that might go wrong, she is going to obsess over it. Because of this, she has a tendency to overcompensate to make sure that NOTHING goes wrong. NOTHING. 

She plans her big moment TO THE MINUTE and a week before the wedding she has this revelation… she has heard… stories. 

Oh no. 

The scotch. 

Around the same time, my grandma is moving out of her old house and she’s inviting family members to rifle through her old things before she gives them to Goodwill. Me, my dad, Tim, and Jay are all there. We’re about to leave when Moe comes up the drive way with a BIG BOX. 

And Gran is like ‘I don’t need more stuff… I don’t need more stuff.. what the fresh hell have you brought to me this time, son of mine?’

He sets it on the floor and it clinks. 

“Julia has ordered me to bring this as a preemptive offer to ensure that there will be no need for a ransom.”

He has brought 24 bottles of scotch. Each brother, including himself, can have six bottles. Whatever debt might have been incurred from his first marriage has been paid off. Her children, and her children’s children, and her children’s children’s children… will no longer need to live in fear of kidnapping on their wedding night. 

This is a sharp contrast to my sister-in-law, who learned of this tradition a week before her wedding, went out and bought a bottle of scotch, slammed it down on their table, and told them to fight for it. 

Bob Harper had a heart attack.  Now leave fat people alone.

Bob Harper, a former trainer on the Biggest Loser, has been one of the fittest men on television for over a decade.  He had a massive heart attack a couple of weeks ago and was hospitalized for eight days.

Bob Harper – a fitness guru who’s the host of “The Biggest Loser” – suffered a heart attack that left him unconscious for 2 days.

Harper tells us he was working out in a NYC gym 2 weeks ago when he collapsed. A doctor who was also working out administered CPR and used paddles to keep Bob alive.

The 51-year-old was taken to the hospital and says he woke up 2 days later. He was hospitalized for 8 days and is still in NYC – he lives in L.A. – because his doctors have not cleared him to fly.

(cont. TMZ)

Heart disease and heart attacks run in Bob Harper’s family and he says it’s all genetics.  I’m sure he’s absolutely right, but why are we okay agreeing with a fit man who says his heart attack was genetics while we view fat people who say “it’s genetics” with such disdain?

Keep reading

AMERICAN GODS SENTENCE STARTERS

episode four - git gone

  • ❝ d’ya mind ?
  • ❝ best drinks have self defining names. you order a manhattan, god knows what you’re gonna get, but you order a gin and tonic, a jack and coke, it’s not just a name. it’s a command. ❞
  • ❝ how long you’ve been working here for
  • ❝ ooh, that’s bad luck. ❞
  • ❝ don’t do it. ❞
  • ❝ i was waiting for you. ❞
  • ❝ why’d you help me ?
  • ❝ you’re really not very good at this; i saw you coming a mile off. ❞
  • ❝ are you trying to recruit me ?
  • ❝ you could be a world class thief. ❞
  • ❝ you look like you could get anything you want just by asking for it. ❞
  • ❝ what d’ya say, huh
  • ❝ hang on a minute. i’m sorry. ❞
  • ❝ i owe you one. i feel beholden. ❞
  • ❝ let me buy you a drink. ❞
  • ❝ let’s go somewhere. ❞
  • ❝ so you are a thief. ❞
  • ❝ the weak spot, see ––– all you need is one. and it’s usually people’s attention. ❞
  • ❝ show me. ❞
  • ❝ oh, god. ten years, and [ … ] has NEVER looked at me like that. ❞
  • ❝ there’s a lesson in there somewhere. ❞
  • ❝ my grandma always had cats. she said that they could see ghosts when we can’t, and warn you of thieves. ❞
  • ❝ do you ever worry about what will happen if you keep stealing
  • ❝ do you believe in the afterlife
  • ❝ all i know is there’s more than i know. ❞
  • ❝ yeah, i think that might sound wiser than it is. ❞
  • ❝ when you die, you rot. it’s a fixed system. physics doesn’t take sundays off. ❞
  • ❝ my parents believed in everything. father, son, holy ghost, spirit filled and full of the light of god. they taught me all of it, chapter and verse. ❞
  • ❝ i went to bed every night in a world full of magic where anything was possible. ❞
  • ❝ it’s like everything that made the world anything more than what it is is just –– stories. like snake oil. but worse, because snakes are real. ❞
  • ❝ i wanted to get that magic back so bad, but one day i just accepted the fact that i couldn’t, because life is just not that interesting. ❞
  • ❝ don’t look at me like that. ❞
  • ❝ the fun is just getting started. ❞
  • ❝ i could teach you to fight. ❞
  • ❝ hey, you want coffee ?
  • ❝ are we pregnant ?
  • ❝ what i’m about to say may sound irrational to you, but i have all sorts of rational reasons for saying it, and doing it. ❞
  • ❝ say it, and we’ll talk about whether or not you should do it. ❞
  • ❝ are we … discussing this, or are you telling ?
  • ❝ there’s some wiggle room. ❞
  • ❝ are you unhappy ? because i’m happy, okay, you make me happy. ❞
  • ❝ yes, i see that you’re happy. from this side of it. the wrong side of it. and i think maybe i resent not being happy. not resent you, just … resent. ❞
  • ❝ do you still love me
  • ❝ we are like a history book. we’re established fact. we don’t change. ❞
  • ❝ i represent FAILURE to you
  • ❝ i can take it. if you’re on the other side. i can make it if you can. can you wait for me
  • ❝ just glad that i could be here to help you, you know
  • ❝ hey, don’t stay here alone tonight. ❞
  • ❝ why did you say that ?
  • ❝ come on, [ , say what you mean. ❞
  • ❝ last night was a one time thing. you were there. and thank you, but we’re not doing this. we did this. and now it’s done. ❞
  • ❝ you don’t love him. not the way he loves you. ❞
  • ❝ is that all this was ? just fun
  • ❝ are you saying no
  • ❝ i lived my life, good and bad. definitely not light as a feather. ❞
  • ❝ in life, you believed in nothing, so you will go to nothing. you will be done. ❞
  • ❝ there is nowhere else for you to be. ❞
  • ❝ tears have fallen for you. ❞
  • ❝ do i get a say in this ?
  • ❝ death is not a debate. ❞
  • ❝ how many do you think have come before you, all with promises and threads and offers of gold, glory, love ? who are you to misguide me from my duty
  • ❝ you are but a man, not even one i should remember. ❞
  • ❝ i’m gonna come in now. i’m gonna come in now, okay
  • ❝ is this a haunting ? are you haunting me ?
  • ❝ does [ … ] know
  • ❝ i’m a vulgar woman. anger and grief have just really made me vulgar. ❞
  • ❝ god, you know, i should thank you. it’s so much easier grieving someone when you’re glad they’re dead. ❞
  • ❝ oh, fuck your feelings. ❞
  • ❝ everybody has feelings, everybody cares about what they feel. i don’t care about what you feel. i care about what you think. what do you think about what you did ?
  • ❝ what was your big lie, [ … ] ?
  • ❝ i love [ … ] … loved [ … ]. love [ … ]. i love [ … ]. (s)he’s the light of my life. ❞
  • ❝ you, i remember. ❞
  • ❝ there is nothing i can do to lighten your heavy heart. ❞
  • ❝ your heavy heart sank you like a stone, right back where you last left off. ❞
  • ❝ was it love ?
  • ❝ love will always have you at a disadvantage. ❞
  • ❝ many is the man who would take any version of his lost love rather than leave his love lost. ❞
  • ❝ (s)he/they will say thank you to whichever god has sent you back to him/her/them. ❞

anonymous asked:

How do you still watch/like supernatural???????????

WHAT AN INTERESTING QUESTION

well thought-out. a lot of question marks. this is serious.

alright.

i know a lot of people who love blue cheese.

i think it’s awful. i look at it and ask, “how? how can someone like that? by eating it, who are they trying to impress? they look like they’re genuinely enjoying it, but how? it’s so awful” without considering the other option

they have a different preference than me.

that’s a lot to take in, so i’ll give you a second.

ok, i think you’re good.

now, i would ask those people, “don’t you realize it’s…that…that’s mold? there’s mold there. i can’t get over the fact that there’s something inherently bad in it” and they shrug, recognize that yeah that is what it is, but there’s so much to it that they do like that just because someone else isn’t into it, doesn’t mean they’re giving it up. and hey, it’s not bad for them, so they have at it. it’s improved a lot of things for them, too. salad. hot wings. the works!

but then i might think, “they can’t POSSIBLY keep liking it. they’ve liked it for so long! get over your love for blue cheese!”

but that isn’t how having like, a favorite of something works. it’s available to them. it makes a lot of stuff better for them. they don’t always have to have it, but when they do, they enjoy it. maybe they went through a period where they had it on something they didn’t like, left a bad taste in their mouths, and they dropped it for a minute, but they couldn’t give up one of their favorite foods.

so, spn is my blue cheese.

yeah, i recognize why it’s, in many ways, wonky. but the cast, the crew, the fans? everyone has become a part of a family i never really got to have. i have sweet loving grandmas i never got, and mothers who look after me and check in on me. i have kind men who give me fatherly advice, and i have big brothers who tease me but stand up for me when they see i’m down. this show has given me opportunities, courage to pursue what i love, and friends who, i don’t think i’d still be here if i hadn’t made them. friends who help in tremendous ways for someone who’s across the planet.

as for the show, last season was a rough one for me. but i love when they tackle big religious topics, and how they do it to this day. for some people, it didn’t jive, and that’s cool. there’s a lot of good content out there. (seriously, i’m still a huge advocate of american gods! if you’ve dropped spn but miss that early-season aesthetic and LOVE gore, give it a shot. aw yiss)

i hope i covered all of the points and removed some of the question marks from this question!

Originally posted by lamthetwickster

anonymous asked:

please gimme more Italian Pidge hc

oh h*ck lemme see

-her grandma/nonna always told pidge not to curse but then five minutes later started cursing out the TV in italian

-dipping bread in oil olive is one of her favorite snacks

-i feel as though sewing is a very italian old lady thing????? idk it could have just been my grandmothers. but anyways. pidge can sew really well and her nonna taught her.

-pidge has a fucking HUGE extended family. like, almost as big as lance’s.

-her dad isn’t italian rather a mix of irish/british/welsh/whatever and because of that her last name is holt. her dad also doesn’t really know which culture to cling onto because of that, so that’s why her immediate family adopted the italian-american culture so fully.

-there’s like…..this de facto old rule in italian-american families that you have to marry someone who’s both catholic and italian. while a lot of italian-american families have dropped this ideaology, we still joke about it a lot so i can imagine that pidge would bring home her first girlfriend (who is an outerspace alien, of course) but then suddenly panics as she’s introducing her gf because she isn’t catholic or italian.

-pidge is like so fucking critical of pizza, pasta, meatballs, and gravy (sauce). like, she even said to hunk (the best cook she’s ever know) in the nicest way possible that his meatballs won’t ever compare to her nonna’s.

-she would rather die than use canned sauce

Emergency: Abuse/donations/Support

For those who don’t want to read skip to the tl;dr for the gist of it.

Hey guys, I’m sorry to make a post about this and I can’t ass a pretty picture, if anyone cares to lend an ear please. My families abuse on me has increased and gotten worse, I’m not being fed and I can’t even get a job (the Refuse to take me to interviews, or to the actual place I need to work) and when I get money form whatever job I get they take it, but food and I get none of it. I tried to bring this to attention to this before. This a sue started sophomore year in high school and just gradually got worse, yes CPS was called but of course they didn’t do anything, I’ve told therapist, my friends and everything and nothing. My boyfriend is unwilling to let me move into his apartment with him at the end of the month because he says I don’t have a job. (Yes i told him that’s awful thing to say) I’ve put effort it o getting and finding a job and effort into trying to get out of this house. I to inform everyone that there is a possibility that all the power in my room will be shut off because my older cousin believes I don’t deserve power in my room if I can’t get a job (yet he’s the one who hit me and kicked me a few times as well). They value our dog over me. I’ve asked for help about my severe depression and other mental health problems including my bi-polar disorder. Instead of taking me to a doctor, my grandma got my brother therapy even though he doesn’t want it (he’s also depressed but doesn’t want the help). My brother, has no job, also depressed and doesn’t do anything all day hasn’t given my grandma money, he doesn’t pay rent, and or do chores. I am depressed, I do chores, I pay with whatever cash the can mange to milk off of me. He’s fed everyday I’m left literally nothing, I’ve lost weight, I’m constantly sick and I’m lying to my one or two irl friends that I’m healthy and well. I can’t sleep, I don’t have proper medicine to deal with my asthma, anemia, or my insomnia. I’ve tried sleeping remedies melatonin and all that. I’ve asked for help multiple times and got nothing. If you can donate or support I have buttons on my page for that. (PayPal and Kofi) I’ll even do a bunch of 5 dollar sketch commissions so I can at least get some good or save money so I can at least move in with my boyfriend even if it’s temporarily. Im in desperate need of help. I’m not sure I can’t keep up being “strong” anymore. I’m close to giving up.

Tl;Dr: My family is abusing me, I want to get away, I’m starving. Please help me.

5

okay but have you considered little old lady fanclub

(because if there’s one thing conversations with my grandma and her crew at the old folk’s home has made clear to me it is that polite young people with nice arses are a desirable commodity at all ages)

“You don’t know me, Nurse!” Dex yells, turning and slamming the door on his way out.

Nursey sinks down into his chair, hands shaking with the adrenaline rush that always comes after a blowout with Dex. He grabs his headphones, tugs his sweatshirt on, and laces up his running shoes. He’s feeling like he could run six or seven today, after a fight like that, but he doesn’t want to overdo it, so he’ll stick to his usual three.

He refuses to allow himself to think for the first mile, focusing on his breath and the sound of his feet against the pavement. It’s warmer than it should be, this time of year, but the air is still cold enough to feel that bit of chill in his lungs.

By the second mile he’s working through the argument in his head, parsing through everything leading up to it and trying to figure out what started it. He can’t figure it out, or maybe he just doesn’t remember. Whatever started it, Dex had surely ended it. You don’t know me, Nurse. A lie if Nursey’s ever heard one. He knows Dex.

I know Dex, he’s repeating through the third mile. He doesn’t know why he’s so hung up on it, except that it’s total fucking bullshit. I know Dex. I know him. I do. Fuck him for thinking I don’t. Fuck him.

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Neighbors (Part III)

Neighbors

Neighbors II

She hasn’t seen him for a while, the gym being empty and his car being away for a while. She tried to distract herself, she went to college parties, studied, worked a lot. They both have been busy with Shawn’s trip to Brazil coming up and her studying for her upcoming exams but she had to admit that she missed him. Those eyes and his adorable smile and his voice and scent and curls. But they wanted to take things slow, figure things out. 

She doesn’t even know what it is they are figuring out. But, oh well.

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Ad-Listed. [smut]

A;N: So, hello! This is kind of different for me, I’m well aware of that, but I had the idea in my head and I couldn’t let it go! This is an AU as Stiles is not in BH, he’s in his senior year of college! Please let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy xo Lau

Pairing: StilesxReader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Explicit Content.

Word count: .10, 810

Listen to me.

One week to Kirstie’s wedding.  

You groaned as you slid into the pleather booth at the local diner, glancing at your phone. Ten till two and he said he’d be here at two. Guess I better get a coffee then. You flagged the waitress, ordering a latte as you sat and scrolled through your phone, looking at the date your bridesmaid dress was supposed to arrive. Why did you leave getting your dress until so late, you always leave everything until it’s so late. You sighed to yourself as the waitress brought your coffee, a wide grin on her face. You smiled back as you looked out the window, watching as Mike walked past the window.

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one phone call away

The loft doors click shut and Alec sags back against them, sighing deeply. It’s only around six in the evening, but it feels much, much later. The world is stuck in that liminal space between sunset and darkness, leaving just enough light to make Alec wonder whether he should turn on the lamps. Everything is bathed in sepia tones falling through the windows, washed-out and almost soothing, if only it didn’t make the flat feel more empty.

He rubs at his face, tendrils of pulsing pain climbing up the back of his neck and into his temples. The objective silence of the loft makes it worse - cars keep driving on the road below, someone is playing loud music, but up here everything is too quiet, devoid of Magnus’ usual familiar presence. It doesn’t feel like a home without him, instead only like a space to inhabit, one with a bed too big and too many coffee cups for one person.

Alec toes off his boots and sets his bow down in its usual spot, before making his way through the living room and towards the kitchen. While passing by the couch, he shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it carelessly onto it, shoulders rolling to try and diffuse the tension in his muscles.

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breyito  asked:

Hi, I know its monday and you probably have tons of things to do, but could I get some fluff, please? It's been an awful weekend(one of the most loved grandmas of the neighbourhood died saturday) and my grandma(who I haven't seen in years) died today and we can't go to her funeral. I am a breath away from an anxiaty attack and later today I have to go back to college alone, after weeks in family. So please, can I have some Tony&Peter or Tony&the bots or Tony&Harley&Peter&Rhodey fluff?? Thanks

Aw burrito. :C


Tony ran a hand through his hair and sighed, dipping his head. “Okay. All of you have new wheels. You have new screws. Dum-E has a new strut because he bent his somehow–”

Dum-E let out a happy beep and spun in a circle. Butterfingers and U watched him for a moment before following suit. Sometimes they really were like little kids that copied their older brother.

“Sir,” JARVIS said. “You speak as if Dum-E didn’t bend his strut trying to keep an engine from falling on you.”

“Shh,” Tony answered immediately, scowling.

That had been a… frightening day. Tony didn’t like to admit that he made mistakes, but he had, the chain hadn’t been checked properly, the engine hadn’t been anchored properly, Tony hadn’t done everything properly. It was his fault.

He had been so–so scared when the chain slipped and the engine started to fall–more scared that when he battled Doom Bots or sentient slime, because this–this was what he did for fun, and he’d felt a little betrayed over it, even if it had been his fault. So many calculations had run through his head and he still hadn’t been able to get out of the way in time.

And then Dum-E–dear, sweet, foolish Dum-E–had let out a terrified squeal and clenched his claw around the alternator, and the sudden weight had caused his strut to bend with the stress, almost fold in half, and his servos had whirred frantically.

Butterfingers and U had zipped over, wheels leaving burnt rubber on the floor, to hurriedly grasp the engine. They’d beeped at each other and moved together to settle the engine on the floor a few feet away as Dum-E creaked his arm down to tap Tony’s face with his claw. Tony had felt awful that Dum-E had had to damage himself to save him.

“This should stand up to any engines,” he said to himself, reaching out to run his hand over Dum-E’s strut. Dum-E rolled closer to let him. Tony smiled tremulously. “Good boy, saving your dumb old daddy.”

Dum-E let out an offended beep and shoved his open claw against Tony’s stomach, curling it just slightly so that he was holding Tony’s waist.

“Dum-E does not like it when you call yourself dumb,” JARVIS supplied.

“Oh, but it’s okay when I do it to him,” Tony said, lifting a hand to wipe away–sweat, yeah, sweat.

Dum-E pressed closer to him, chassis bumping against his knees. He beeped again. It sounded… fond.

“I love you,” Tony blurted out, wrapping his arms around the bot as well. “I know I don’t say it enough, but–I do.”

Butterfingers and U rolled over to grasp at his shirt and arm, beeping quietly.

“We love you too, Sir,” JARVIS said quietly, part translation and part sincere.

Tony pressed his forehead to Dum-E strut.

He’d kind of figured that, when Dum-E had grabbed a falling car engine to keep it from killing him at the expense of his own arm.

On Tradition

My great-grandmother used to say that tradition was tending a flame, not worshiping ashes. She also used to say that just because something was always done, didn’t mean it was always right.

Just because tradition says that there are strict gender roles in your religion, doesn’t mean you have to accept that. Just because tradition says that the divine expects this or that of you, doesn’t mean you have to agree to that. 

When people cite tradition, sometimes they’re really saying, “We don’t have a good reason, except that it’s always been this way.”

Fight for what you want your religion or your magickal tradition to be. Don’t just accept that because it has always been one way it must always be that way.

You want to be a High Priestess but everyone says you can’t be because you’re trans? Do it anyway. You want to hold the so-called “masculine divine” inside you at a ritual, but you’re a cis-gendered woman? Do it anyway. 

Make a new fire and tend that one. Don’t worship their ashes.