seen from France
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brunei
seen from China
seen from Poland
seen from China
seen from Poland
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
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seen from Spain
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
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So tomorrow is laundry day
Which means I have run out of clean underwear and am instead wearing a two piece velvet underwear set I bought from Killstar that’s just a little too small until such times as I can get my bag o’ stuff washed and dried for next week
Hopefully
Man I really don’t think I can take another year living with my mum. I hate the fact she makes me wear female clothes like dresses and vests and short shorts and then gets angry when I am visibly upset and try to stop her from doing it. I fucking told her I’m trans a few months ago and she said i only feel this way because of the ‘abandonment issues’ I have because of my dad leaving. Which by the way fucking happened over ten years ago and I’m over, since I have a really kind loving stepdad. she seems to be the one clinging on. Between these kind of events and the mildly transphobic (sometimes just goddamn offensive) stuffs she says I just... can’t. I mean I love my mum and I have hope that she can change when I start to transition but if I have to put up with another year of her mocking trans issues and telling me to ‘get the fuck over it’ when I’m crying about being in a dress she forced me into then I just feel like I’m going to fucking off myself. But don’t get me wrong she not a bad person, I really think she will change her view when I start to transition because at least I know I got my stepdad. I just really don’t know if the rest of my family would be as accepting so yeah that why if I don’t get into uni this year I’ll die
think I’ll try to do both Inktober and NaNoWriMo this year... all in an attempt to get back into my creativity.. which honestly is all that really keeps me going.. it pains me that i’m not as good as i want, and trying to ignore the nagging voices in my head that tell me i wont be good enough. all i can do is try.
*sings in 5 different languages*
Y'all
My mom said she doesn't see the symbolism in Mary shooting Sherlock right in the chest/HEART and "I'll burn the heart out of you" relating to that. That Anti-Homo heteronormativity is really fogging up her view of the show. I'm praying that the lord controls my pimp hand cause it's itching right now
Another little au family drabble.
It was a beautiful afternoon. The kind that could make you feel guilty if you spent any of it inside. Will was running around the garden in circles like a crazed lunatic, with a delirious Daggoo tailing behind him. Every so often the pup would trip him and they'd collapse in a heap on the grass while Will laughed as hard as his lungs allowed. Whenever they hit the ground I would look up from where I was reading on the porch, fulfilling my motherly duty to check that nobody was hurt, and Mulder would smile in to his glass of iced tea.
Folding the corner of the page down to keep my place (a habit that never fails to infuriate my husband), I place the book on the small table beside me and turn to him. His face is tipped up towards the sky, his eyes closed as he enjoys the sun beating down on us. He looks so content. And handsome. My word is he handsome. I notice some beads of sweat on his forehead.
"Do you want some sun block?" I ask, my eyes travelling from his messy hair, down his profile and to his neck. I know exactly what his neck tastes like when he's been out in the sun and my tongue darts out to moisten my lips. He makes it entirely too difficult to get anything done around here some days, and he knows it. He shakes his head without opening his eyes, and a lazy hand comes up to rest on my bare thigh. It could have been promising if it wasn't the middle of the afternoon, our impressionable little miracle child wasn't in our direct line of sight and Mulder didn't seem to be dozing off.
I know Will and I will need more sun block before long and I stand to go back inside and retrieve the bottle from the fridge. My mother always kept it there when I was little and the cold liquid always felt wonderful as it soothed my slightly pink skin. Will had inherited my complexion and had to be careful in the sun, while Mulder could sit or play out for hours and never come back to the house with anything more than skin the colour of toasted sugar. Did I mention how insanely handsome he is? Fatherhood and middle age suit him. His warm hand comes up to cup the back of my thigh.
"Where are you going?" He was defintley dozing off. His voice is sleep soaked and my stomach flips. I almost roll my eyes at my own love sick girlish-ness but then I tell myself to back off because we have fucking earned this. I run my hand through his hair. It's hot to the touch and I really shouldn't let him fall asleep out here.
"Inside for a minute. Do you need anything?" His eyes open and he grins up at me goofily, his hand now moving from my thigh up to my back to pull me forward.
"Are you offering me a little afternoon delight?" he asks against my lips and I giggle as I fall forward in to his lap.
"That would make us very irresponsible parents," I say, as I wrap my arms around his neck and smile at him like he hung the moon for me. I've definitley had too much sun today. He kisses my nose and my pink cheeks and as I lean in to his mouth Will suddenly lets out a frightened cry that descends in to a full blown wail of pain. I almost topple to the porch floor as Mulder jumps to his feet, but I catch myself quickly and we are both off running.
As we get to Will he is standing with his hand outstretched and an angry looking welt in the middle of his palm. A bee sting. Mulder and I both heave a sigh of relief and with an arm each around Will's shoulders and some words of comfort we guide our son back to the house for antihistamines and TLC.
----
After dinner I have some work to do before bed so I leave Mulder and Will to their game of chess. Mulder has been teaching him to play for a couple of years now and this current game has been ongoing for a few weeks. I suspect Will will be able to beat his father by the time he's 11. As I work I can hear snippets of conversation coming from the other room, and eventually there's an excasperated "Stop scratching it!"
There's some grumbling from Will and then a clearer, "I hate bees."
I can't help but laugh as I hear Mulder respond, "You have no idea, kid."
----
Maye an hour later Mulder comes in search of me. His hands find my shoulders and his mouth finds the nape of my neck.
"The offspring is counting sheep on the sofa. I'll put him to bed in a minute. You want a glass of wine?"
"Yes please," I say, and I tip my head back for a kiss.
As Mulder heads to the kitchen for the wine I head to the sitting room for my not-so-baby boy. I manage to lift him up without waking him, and head towards the stairs. Mulder comes from the kitchen, a glass of red wine in each hand.
"You need to stop carrying him up those stairs. He's almost as tall as you are and he weighs a ton," he scolds me.
"I want to do it for as long as I still can. It won't be long before it becomes impossible due to your ridiculous lanky genes." He laughs and leans forward to place a quick kiss on his son's head and a lingering one on my lips.
"I love you. Be careful on the stairs."
*finds spirited away sheet music*
“dang i wish i could cite read”
“oh wait. i can”
;)
hey friends
i'm navigating my braintides at the mo. i'm still interested in my mutuals lives, but i don't have a lot of energy to scroll through yr blogs personally. how have y'all been?
