My family went on holiday and my cat thought we’d left him forever so he ran away, and when we got home my dog thought he’d died or something, so she was in absolute grief, and I don’t understand why because they hate each other in real life.
I hope you’ll reblog and share my words. message to all of you lovely people ♥️ lots of love and godbless you all. I’m sorry it’s cut because Tumblr said I reached the video limit. And the last word for that is, just a little more and we will be there. I hope some of you will understand us. My partner is just a bike driver, his income is not enough for everything that we need. I hope some of you will understand us 😞🙏😢 thankfully this is gonna be my last blog for help. Soon ill just make good vibes 🙂👨👩👦 thank you people. And again, godbless you all. You all deserve so much love 💕💕❣️
“You good?” Dan asked after a long moment of contemplating his son.
“Yeah,” Ian said, feeling the truth of it, making him smile. “Really good. Are you?”
“Never better, kid,” Dan grinned. “So… are we good, son?” Ian could hear the emphasis on the last part, and he nodded again.
“Never better, Dad,” he said back, feeling bold and strong and ready for anything. Every bit his father’s son, for sure. Dan nodded back with that easy smile he did so well.
“You wanna get out of here, bud?” Dan said. “I guess if we ain’t gone to sleep, it’s still my night, right?” His grin was full of hot promise, knowing and inviting and encouraging all at once.
“Where you wanna go, big guy?” Ian said, feeling bold and aware of all the new possibilities between them now, giving the paternal arm encircling him a warm, slow squeeze.
“I’m open to ideas, son,” Dan said, eyes twinkling, and damn, if his father knew the kind of ideas Ian was having… but then, he probably had more than a few of his own, too. Ian wanted to hear about that, and explore them. As close as they’d gotten to each other over the years, if ever there was a night to get even closer, this was it. Who knew if or when the magic, and the opportunity that went with it, might fade away?
“Well, technically I guess it’s Father’s Day now,” Ian said, heart starting to beat faster again. “Let’s go do something special to celebrate it.”
* * * * *
Usually the ride from the gayborhood back to his place would have taken maybe ten minutes, but it was a Saturday night in summer, Pride weekend, and of course Father’s Day weekend too, so the streets were busier and slower than usual. Ian didn’t mind. He felt fucking great, riding the trailing end of the ecstasy Troy had fed them, halfway full of very good liquor, and still floating on the pleasant afterglow of the fierce, powerful orgasm he’d pumped down Troy’s talented throat. Beside his Dad, who was beside him now, sprawled out comfortably on the backseat of the Uber, long legs spread wide, his bare knee resting easily against Ian’s own, riding all those same good feelings and experiences with him.
It felt good to sink into the comfy backseat and just let the world go slowly by, dubby reggae playing low on the car’s sound system. Every once in awhile Dan’s knee would graze up and down against his, reminding him of where they were, where they’d been together, where they were going, and he’d look over and see the man, smiling that easy, half-buzzed smile at him, and feel the heat inside him turn up a little more. Thinking about all the stuff they’d already done, tonight and the other nights before it. All the stuff they might yet get to do tonight, maybe. The hot, playful, secret history between them, and how well it seemed to go along with the more typical father-son bond they had, without fucking either side up, or at least it seemed so far. Best of both worlds, seemed like, though he guessed tonight might be the test of that. Depended on how far they went.
Right now, they weren’t going very far at all, but that was OK too. He was eager to get back to his apartment, of course, to get to be alone with Dan and see what they both had in mind. But he knew it was good to have a little time to clear their heads before that, too. Not totally, of course – he liked the leftover vibes he was feeling right now, and he wanted them to continue. But it was good to be sure they were on the same page before they stepped things up, got even closer, and deeper.
Dan shifted in his seat, his arm stretching along the back, bringing him closer to Ian, who smiled and leaned into him, nice and easy and natural.
“Maybe we should’ve just walked after all,” Dan said, wrapping his arm comfortably around him.
“I dunno, it’s nice to sit here and be comfy and chill, too,” Ian said, looking at the sea of brake lights ahead, and not feeling the least bit wound up about them.
“Good point,” Dan said. “Big day.”
“Real big,” Ian grinned, and he wasn’t even trying to make some kind of double entendre, but Dan let out a soft, knowing chuckle and shifted his thigh against him, and now the double entendre was all he could think of. He looked over at Dan’s crotch, the handsomely proportioned bulge, thick and full, and felt the stirring inside him again. In the streetlight coming through the car window, he could even see the faint shadow of the wet spot where the head of Dan’s dick pressed against the fabric, where it had seeped slowly after the incredible blowjob Troy had given him, and felt his own cock stirring from its lazy slumber.
He’d touched that cock. Just the base of it, just for a moment, but shit, what a moment. While Troy was working it with his silky lips and tongue, coaxing the load from Dan’s big balls as Dan and Ian devoured each other’s mouths. Holy fuck, what a night. Him and his own father. All of a sudden he started to feel the bigness of it all, and it made his insides tighten up all over again. But under that, deeper, it felt good. He felt really good.
Dan looked over at him, saw where his gaze was directed, and chuckled low and deep, his arm squeezing around Ian’s neck.
“Like what you see, huh kid?” he murmured to him, and Ian felt a rush of pure heat go through him, from out of nowhere, as his cock swelled in his own shorts some more.
“Yeah,” he said, surprising himself a little, looking up at his father and meeting his gaze. “I do.” After a slow beat while they just looked at each other, adding, “Seen a lot of it, too.”
“That you have,” Dan said, grinning. “Looks like you might wanna see more.”
“Among other things,” Ian said, his mouth suddenly getting a little dry, savoring the way Dan’s eyes flared at that.
“Good,” Dan said. “Me too.” He gave Ian’s growing bulge a slow, deliberate, and thorough going-over with his eyes, and turned his hot smile back on his son.
That settled it, and Dan tugging his head closer to kiss him just sealed it. It was an easy kiss, sensual and deep in its own way, the kind that could get real intense and passionate real quick, For now, though, it felt good to let it flow, their lips smacking slow and soft, a good old-fashioned makeout, the kind Ian liked real well in its own right. Knowing they’d get where they both wanted to soon enough, and no need to rush in the meantime. Just enjoying the smooth, easy ride.
Mariah sharing that she dedicates an entire room for her ancestors. Its ok if living space prevents you from having even an altar. It’s my dream to become so successful that I can have an entire room for my ancestors. Just to be able to create an environment where i can sit, and talk as if they’re in the room. A purified dwelling place for them.
Dan’s eyes flared and he kissed Ian hard, growling lustily into his mouth when Ian’s other hand found the big throbbing curve of his father’s cock, and gave it a slow, soap-slick reverential stroke. They kissed long and loud as they cleaned each other’s most intimate spaces, Ian moaning as Dan’s thick, slippery fingertip slid inside of him, working its way around, probing and exploring and getting him all squeaky clean, and the longer he went at it, the closer he got to Ian’s prostate, and the more Ian knew what his father had in mind for him, and for his ass too. He shivered in the man’s grasp and found himself pressing at the tight knot of his own father’s hole in return, the two of them moaning to each other through their kiss as the man opened up to him with surprising ease, his cock twitching in Ian’s soapy slow stroke as he went inside of him.
Sooner than he wanted, Dan’s finger extracted itself from him, and then his big, strong hands found each of Ian’s wrists and gently, but firmly, broke their grip on him.
“Buddy, I knew we could make each other cum all over this fuckin’ shower,” his father said with lusty heat. “But there are better places to do that, am I right?”
Ian couldn’t help but shiver at the hot, hungry intensity his father was emanating, enveloping him with it. He nodded and let the man out of his grasp, and was rewarded with another lusty, tongue-swapping kiss.
* * * * *
They weren’t even properly dry when they hit Ian’s bed, the frame banging against the wall at their sudden combined weight falling onto it, all wrapped up together, legs and arms, hands and lips, tongues entwined as they explored each other’s naked, half-wet skin. Their cocks pulsed hotly together as Dan slowly rolled him onto his back and ground against him with the full length of his handsome body. Ian had never been so turned on, so eager, so full of the hot lust that lived down deep inside of him. The hot lust he’d inherited along with everything else from his Dad, it seemed, as the man pinned his wrists above his head with one hand and moved slowly against him.
“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, son,” Dan murmured, and the heat and the pride and the love in it combined to do a number on Ian’s head and heart and cock all at once.
“Jeez, Dad,” Ian said, suddenly short on words. “I…” he started, trying to grasp for something, some right thing to say to that, and then found it. “You made me this way,” he murmured, leaning up to kiss his father’s smiling lips.
“Damn glad I did, buddy,” Dan murmured back, letting his wrists loose so they could embrace while they kissed some more.
They could have gone on like that all night, and Ian sure would have been OK with it, but he had other things in mind too. Things he’d been thinking about for a long time now, that he urgently wanted to try, now it was clear he and his father were feeling all the same kinds of ways about each other. Free to explore, ready to roll, deeply into each other and the hot vibe between them as their new bond got deeper and stronger by the minute. A hot, heady sense of freedom at last, the blinders off, the rules tossed happily out the window as they went deep together.
“Lay back,” he said, shifting from out of his father’s lusty embrace, helping him roll onto his back. Dan propped himself up on the pillows and watched Ian with an amused, but hungry look as his son spread his long, strong legs and slid between them, looking up the firm stretch of Dan’s inner thighs, lingering on his cock with a little grin, then up to meet his father’s gaze.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he said. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”
Dan’s grin widened and he tucked his hands behind his head and watched, grunting encouragingly as Ian took his handsome, hard length in hand, licked his lips, and then licked the cock that had made him twenty-odd years ago.
My grandmother’s last husband was called in our family Granddad Kolya, but it was hardly ever forgotten that he was not a real granddad. He was a beautiful man: tall, wide shoulders, with a wave of brown hair in a somewhat-Soviet way, inexplicably: he had something of that cunning openness in his face—with that wave—that somehow marked him as a Soviet manager. I do not know a lot about him and have little to say. It may seem inappropriate to include him into my chronicles anyway. My grandmother and he did not have a peaceful life. They were constantly arguing, and witnesses of these arguments became us all whenever we visited. I remember he insisted everyone would drink cogniac while my mom leaned the glass above her plate to pour out excesses. I was ready to point at it with indignation to everyone, but she spotted that I spotted and stopped me with her sight.
About ten years my grandmother and granddad Kolya spend in the city of Bratsk, together, before they finally split or divorced, and she moved in to her solitary one-bedroom apartment in the city of Angarsk from which we replanted her [to Moscow].
There was a lot of enigmatic things about this union, as in, why she kept tolerating him for so long even as she seems to be unable to tolerate him. They clearly had a clush in those “Siberian characters” she claimed to have possessed. They were both stubborn, unyielding, categorical, and brisk.
For me, he was not a bad grandfather. He gave me a transistor once, I think, for my eleventh birthday (tenth? Ninth?) The transistor radio on a little leash, a beautiful little thing, a technological wonder. It had one flaw, I soon discovered: when you pressed a protective membrane on the speaker, the membrane would only spring back with difficulty. Once when I pressed it, it did not spring back at all. I had to use another pair of mom’s manicure scissors to unglue it from the speaker. But it turned out that scissors left traces, indelible marks that now freckled my beautiful transistor radio. It was so disappointing that the radio had to go. It went, to a wardrobe where it was hidden successfully before being discovered, with the traces of my crimes. If I was reprimanded by Granddad Kolya, it was gently.
Once when grandmother and he visited us in Moscow, he gave me a box of colorful pencils. She sharpened them all during that evening at the kitchen table working above a leaf of newspaper, putting the shavings there: they created an interesting colorful mass. One pencil was sharpened from a wrong end: from that point where golden letters where bound to be erased quicker than if the pencil was sharpened from another end. That was all I personally held against him, but it did not change the fact that my grandmother and granddad Kolya were not a durable couple.
Later, when she lived with us, she recalled with a poignant mix of jealousy, resentment, and shadenfreude how he would go to a restaurant without inviting her. But women in there, unlike her, a simple accountant, were working in supply, she went on, and they would tell him, not so fast, and he will crawl back to her telling her she is the best. I need to find that fragment in Russian where I recorded this drama more precisely. What she hated the most is the necessity to iron his shirts. Shirts, shirts, there were always those shirts to iron. They seemed to never end. “He loved to wear a well ironed shirt, you see.” That is how he is now known to me: the wave, the open face, liked to wear ironed shirts, sharpening pencils at a dinner table.
“…nobody has really discussed the alternative to the Family. The only obvious alternative is the State. Even supposing that the extreme anarchist school could prevail in a sort of universal riot of promiscuity, the result could only be that the whole new generation of humanity would be thrown on the resources of the only thing which could be considered responsible for them […] the frightful punishment of mere sex emancipation […] is not anarchy but bureaucracy.
[…] If families will not be responsible for their own children then officials will be responsibfor other people’s children […] The total control of human life will pass to the state; and it will be a very Totalitarian State.”
— G.K. Chesterton: The Illustrated London News, Jan/04/1936
Okay, so I stumbled over an old photo album tonight (and I mean OLD… the photographs are over 100 years old. From what I can guess, they’re from around 1908-1912 somewhere?) and I am AMAZED by the fucking QUALITY of these images. I took pics of them with my phone and that doesn’t catch all the details - but I can see individual WRINKLES and STRANDS OF HAIR on these! It’s amazing.
Anyway, this here is my father’s mother’s mother, Elin (who I got one of my names from), born in 1892:
And I have no idea who the rest of these people are, but here are two guys being bros from over a century ago:
And these are unknown to me but look at these lovely ladies:
(The last one, above this text, actually says 1920, and it’s from the back of the album.)
And this absolutely glorious moustache:
I just… Really love old photos. I feel like I need to scan these just to make it clear how absolutely PERFECT they are. Like. The quality is SO much better than today’s photos.
so do y'all ever sit at the dinner table while your mom is crying, your father is watching and you’re thinking about how you’re gonna throw up everything you’re eating as soon as you can or did you have a normal childhood? :)
I found out last week that my oldest brother has cancer of the lungs, liver and possibly the throat. Today his wife said he may not make it to his next birthday, which is mid-July.
My brother lives in another state, there’s ten years between us, and he’s always lived his own life, and pretty hard, more or less apart from our family. I think we’ve been saying goodbye for a couple of years now, so we’ve been able to talk about a lot of things. I’m sad for how things could have been and I worry about his wife of 15 years (a year younger than me), not having him to lean on.
Since I don’t live close by, I don’t know all there is to it, only what they choose to share. I do know he’s physically hurting, so if you believe, please pray that his pain can be managed during the time he has left.
For everyone who wanted to hear more cool stories about my mothers, I had a riveting conversation with them both last night where they both said that you should call Gavin Newsom’s office at (916) 445-2841 and send an email to him from his website to tell him that he needs to grant emergency commutations, clemency, and medical parole to 57,500 people in California prisons(including everyone over the age of 60 and everyone with a preexisting medical vulnerability to COVID-19) and that he needs to stop all transfers from CDCR to ICE.
As I learn more about autism I feel like I’m learning more about myself but at the same time I don’t know what to do with this information, I can’t get a professional diagnosis so I can’t tell my friends and family and I feel alone and missunderdtood
You don’t need a professional diagnosis to tell people who you trust. Think of the person who you trust the most, who you know respects you, and start with them. Tell them “So hey, you know how I’ve always done X or been Y way? I think I know the reason now.” Explain to them how you feel understood by the autism community and how it makes you feel like you belong. And then you can have conversations with the person about yourself as you learn these things, and you can be like “Hey so do you think this fits me?” or “What do you think about this autistic post?”
The first IRL person I told was my brother, and I told him long before I had a diagnosis. I told him “I figured out why I do these things, and I think it’s because I’m autistic.” and he said “Omg there’s a REASON you’re like that?” He was almost as excited as I was, and then we started learning about autism TOGETHER, because I’d tell him “I read this” and he’d be like “Yep, that’s you.”
So you don’t need a paper diagnosis to share your new discoveries with those you trust. Coming out as autistic is a bit like coming out of the closet I guess. Start with the one person you know will accept you, and go from there.
When Damian is about 16, a new team emerges in Gotham. It is a team of inexperienced young heroes from the city, and when a dangerous case from Batman’s past lands right in their laps, Damian does his best to keep them on track (and keep his father from interfering too much).
Someone’s dealing Joker Venom to kids at Brentwood Academy. Damian and his team are going to find out who.
2) Batman and Son Rewrite by fadesfanfic - 31K of a great story that is focused on Bruce, Damian, and Talia. It does deal with abuse Damian suffered by doesn’t demonize Tali which, hey, always a plus, and a rare thing nowadays.
Damian Al Ghul has been dying to meet his father for as long as he can remember, and after defeating his mother in personal combat on his birthday, he’s finally earned the right. But everything he does seems only to elicit his father’s disapproval.
Parents whose adult children don’t speak to them anymore always act like they’re the victim and hardly ever introspect about what behaviours may have driven their children away. More than half the time, these parents are actually just manipulative & abusive and drove their kids away by fucking with their heads.
It’s easier to blame someone else than admit you may have been at fault in the end though, isn’t it.
Guys it’s my mum’s birthday so have a shitpost of pictures I have with this amazing woman! She’s brought me into this world and done not a half bad job of raising me and my siblings. She’s not had an easy ride with it, but if I’m half as strong as she is in my adult life I’ll consider that a massive achievement.
All likes on this post count as a happy birthday message to my mum.
Our child, age 2.5, informed us that the doctor was wrong when she was born and she is a girl. Even at that age we could tell it was stressful and she has been SO MUCH HAPPIER since we were like OK so she’s a girl.
Most of the grandparents (¾ of the ones in her life) were like OK, she’s happy? She’s a girl. Yay!
My mom was… not. Admittedly, she did SOME work, but it has blown up into a re-analysis of “hey, mom, can you maybe try listening to and respecting my opinions? Even if you didn’t when I was a kid and teenager, I am now an adult who even has degrees in this shit, my wife and I are both trained to interpret this kind of research, we’re not pulling this stuff out of our asses here.” Not just about Nugget being a girl but lots of other things.
On the one hand, she has agreed to go to family counseling with us (and she is not seeing the grandbabies solo until that happens). On the other hand… she didn’t realize I was “so sensitive” about the stuff growing up (which we’ve discussed multiple times? How much of an effect it had on me and my anxiety and perfectionism??) and is sad that it has turned into drama which makes her uncomfortable.
Like. I love you, mom. We usually have a pretty good relationship. But. Seriously.
Saturday we went to my cousin Jenny’s house. They had just bought a jet ski so we had some fun on that. Charly got to go tubing. She is trailing behind in that top pic lol.
It was a lot of relaxing, playing games, visiting and playing cards. Even got some euchre in! And taught everyone how to play shithead.
I didn’t take many pics at all. My aunts and uncles stopped by as well and my other cousin and his family. It was just really good to see everyone ❤️
Sunday we had the neighbors over and Jon made cheesesteaks! I made the fries. It was all so very tasty. And afterward we went and soaked in the pool for a while.
Oh and we got the opportunity to move faux Heidi. Our neighbor has a dog named Heidi. Looks EXACTLY like the fake dog in the pics. A friend of hers gave it to her as a gift. Well she had it next to her garage and it scared the crap out of us when we were cutting through one day.
Well…that started the game of moving Heidi. Joanne got Kat with it by putting it on her back porch in front of the slider. Kat got us with it by putting it next to the trash (I jumped when I saw it after we got back Sunday morning). And then Sunday evening we put it outside the slider at Caitlin and Cameron’s. Haven’t heard yet if they noticed it lol
I think it’s something with the eyes. It is just disturbing and catches you off guard 😂. Well and you also think it’s real at first.