#Real life story

[muffinmonstah-art]

Numa y Nando

"Numa made his presence felt through quiet heroics: no one fought harder for our survival, no one inspired more hope, and no one showed more compassion for the ones who suffered the most. Even though he was a new friend for most of us, I believe Numa was the best loved man on the mountain." - Nando Parrado

#my art #la sociedad de la nieve #society of the snow #nando parrado #numa turcatti #real life story

[asherisawkward]

Are au's where Belos is "good" or get's a redemption an insult / offensive to abuse victims?

I don’t think so. I’m going to share an example of something similar that happened in my family for an explanation.

My dad grew up with a pretty terrible alcoholic for a father. He would yell, hit his family, and threaten them. A couple times the police were called from what I heard. One of the stories he ever told me specifically was when my dad was young. My grandfather threw a mug at him from across the room, and it hit him in the head. Dad still has the scar from that, and it was forty years ago.

In short, it was hellish and incredibly unsafe. My dad got himself out of there, put himself through college, and did a lot of really amazing things.

When dad was older, my grandfather started going to alcoholic support groups and therapy so he could work on his addiction. He was able to go to my parents’ wedding, and was an actual part of my dad’s life again. When he died, he was more than twenty years sober, and my dad speaks fondly of him.

If people can change that way in real life, I don’t understand how it could be harmful to depict it in fiction. It would need to be done carefully, because abuse is a complicated situation. It doesn’t always get better, and people don’t always redeem themselves from that.

But it’s possible, and I find it heartening to read.

#The Owl House #TOH #Philip Wittebane #Emperor Belos #Philip Wittebane redemption #Good parent Philup #Real life story #Trigger Warning: abuse #Trigger Warning: alcoholism #Redemption #Ask

[fleet-of-fiction]

Aggelos - Part 1

I think sometimes closure comes in many forms. I thought, perhaps, mine would be different. But it never came in the form I expected. I have to create it for myself. So here it is. My closure. My story. From start to finish. From the moment I met him to the moment I pressed Post on this eulogy of a love I didn't expect to know.

It was a bitterly cold January morning when I first met him. Bed hair unbrushed and my breasts swinging freely underneath my husbands hoodie that I'd grabbed off the pile at the end of the bed. It was still early, only days after celebrating the new year. The 4th to be exact, and time really wouldn't wait.

I'd known my Mothers house was in need of some repair. Her physical condition meant that some changes needed to be made in order for her to stay there. A ramp at the back of the house to enable her to exit in her wheelchair. A lift in the kitchen that would take her upstairs without having to transfer into another chair. A few hand rails here and there, and some repairs to the drain out back where the ramp would need to go.

I was prepared for the upheaval. For the early mornings where I'd need to roll out of bed to let the contractors in to start work. My Mother is not an early riser, her condition meaning that nights can sometimes be disturbed. And as I only lived a two minute walk down the street, I was happy to be around if the work men needed anything.

I paid little mind to myself that morning. Scooping my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head as I always did when I didn't have time to do anything with it. I told myself; all I need to do is open the gate for them and I'll come back later to make them all a nice cup of tea. I didn't know that morning was about to change the course of my life forever.

I was standing in the garden when I heard them. Deep, jovial voices speaking a language I couldn't understand. I thought perhaps they were Spanish at first, two olive skinned smiles turning the corner to greet me. The first was Giannis, a heavy set and darker toned 30-something with grey hair and sparkling eyes. He had lived in the UK for twelve years after meeting his wife online, he told me later on, and had moved his construction business over with him. He shook my hand and moved aside so that he could introduce me to his brother, Aggelos.

Aggelos was fairer than his brother. With caramel brown eyes that were almost cat-like. He was taller and slimmer, with a smile that didn't sparkle. It was quieter, more reserved. His dark hair peppered with grey, but not covered like his brother. He didn't shake my hand he just nodded and smiled wryly.

I gave them a briefing about my Mother. Explained that I'd be back later to get her out of bed and that if they needed anything just to call me. I handed Giannis my phone number and told him to call me every morning when they arrived so that I could unlock the gate for them. He thanked me and I walked away. Back to my life down the street.

Where I lived with my husband. My husband who, for now and for always, will be my best friend. My husband who has walked by my side for the last eight years. Who took on my children and navigated my mental and physical health issues with me. My husband who shares a set of friends with me, family, memories and experiences. The person I always thought I'd love, and no other, for the rest of my life.

I hadn't really noticed the shift in our closeness until Aggelos. I just immersed myself in Greta Van Fleet and the obsession that was Jake Kiszka. Safe. A man I could never have. A man I could fantasise about when my husband paid me no attention. A man I could imagine myself with when my husband would have rathered do anything but spend time with me.

It wasn't that we disliked each other. It wasn't even cruel. It was just gradual. Unnoticed to the untrained eye. The years unravelling, and our comfort becoming more and more until we never sat in the same room. Never watched the same tv shows. Never walked the dog together. Our personal schedules in complete contrast. We weren't unkind to each other, we just weren't...anything.

On the second day, I rolled out of bed and in the same manner I let Giannis and Aggelos through the gate. This time we stopped and spoke more, Giannis telling me that Aggelos wasn't even supposed to be there. He'd been visiting for christmas and was meant to be back home in Athens, Greece. But he'd extended his stay in order to help his brother complete this job. He didn't even work in construction, he worked in finance.

Aggelos didn't say much. He was nothing like his brother. He had this way about him that was almost intimidating were it not for the way he smiled. I thought he was shy. He was only 24, he was young. And me, at 39 almost fifteen years his senior, I was of no interest to him. Giannis was almost my age, we talked about things casually that were age appropriate. Aggelos agreeing with him every time he would shoot him with a "Eyy... Aggelos, isn't that right?"

On the third day, they began work on the broken drain that sat just outside the kitchen window. I was dutifully making cups of tea, stood on the other side of the glass as Giannis removed the old pipe. Aggelos, stood watching, his eyes moving from what his brother was doing up to inspect what I was doing.

I caught his eye. For the briefest moment, brown met blue. And I felt it. That heat in the space between your stomach and chest. Like a bundle of nerves had just punched me straight in the gut. And I hurried to busy myself with the drinks. Telling myself I was stupid and delusional. I didn't just see what I'd just thought I'd seen. He's 24. You're married. You look like shit. You don't even have a bra on. Or a stitch of make up. You haven't brushed your hair. He's just from a different country, he's probably intrigued.

On the fourth day, Giannis needed to go to the store to pick up some supplies. He dropped Aggelos at the gate and promptly drove off, leaving his quiet little brother to explain the situation. Mother was still asleep and the weather was getting colder and colder. He wasn't used to it, he stood there shivering and his teeth almost chattering as he spoke in very good, but slightly broken english.

And I noticed it for the first time. The way he would pause on his next word and say, "Ok...errmm...ok..." before speaking. It was endearing. Sweet. Like he didn't want to say the wrong thing despite the fact he could speak an entirely different language than his own and I never could.

I told him to come inside. That he didn't need to do anything until Giannis got back. He wasn't so sure, he'd been given a few tasks to do in the interim. I said "Ok, I'll be inside if you need anything." and I watched him dither and blow heat into his gloved hands until I couldn't take it anymore.

I'd never seen anyone look more grateful as I opened the door and presented him with a steaming cup of tea. He stepped into the kitchen and it was like his entire demeanour changed. I was suddenly aware that, despite his age, he was a full grown man and was capable of knowing what he wanted.

We talked for a little while while sipping our drinks. He was a smoker, and asked if I minded that he smoked. I used to smoke years ago and my Mother does to this day so there was always an ashtray at the back door. I shook my head and watched him roll up a cigarette so deftly I was sort of mesmerised by his technique. Almost one handed and he explained to me how he had acquired this skill.

Four months ago, In October 2023, he was playing basketball as part of an amateur team in Athens. He'd got slammed to the ground and landed palm down, his entire weight and that of his opponent crashing down onto his hand breaking every single bone in it. He'd had surgery, he showed me his scar, and told me about the physio he was still undertaking. How helping his brother was all part of that, learning how to use his hand again.

It felt like the 10 minutes we'd been stood there drinking tea and him smoking was much less, I found myself not wanting to let him carry on working. I was lingering and I felt stupid. Ridiculous. But, he was lingering too. More so than I was.

There's a saying I'd heard before. "He fell first, but I fell harder." I didn't know it then, but it was about to ring true.

That night was the first time I fantasised about him. Laying there next to my husband imagining what he might look like under his clothes. What his kiss might feel like. What it would be like for him to make love to me. Wondering what his cock looked like, not knowing that it was the most beautiful cock I would ever see. Not knowing anything that was about to happen would lead me into the most gut wrenching pain I had ever known.

My husband and I hadn't spoken in days. Not because we had argued, not because either of us were annoyed with the other. We'd simply been working, taking care of obligations, our separateness meaning sometimes it was just like that. But for some reason, as I laid there, thinking about Aggelos, he turned to me and asked how the work on Mothers house was going. And I didn't realise how dry my mouth was until I tried to speak. Unable to say much, afraid that I'd say something incriminating. Like one little word would make it obvious that the thoughts in my head were impure.

I was in trouble.

On the fifth day, they came a little earlier. I knew their work was only contracted to seven days and they needed to get everything done. I hadn't been able to sleep so I'd woken early and decided to shower and blow dry my hair. I put a little bit of make up on, not too much. Just a little concealer and a sweep of mascara. I wore clothes that weren't ill fitting, I don't recall what exactly, but when the van pulled up and Aggelos jumped out he almost sprinted towards me.

That was the moment I knew. I knew I wasn't delusional. I knew I wasn't alone in whatever this was. My fate was barrelling towards me and I couldn't stop it. And this time his smile was not shy, it beamed and he said Good Morning to me like he'd been waiting with baited breath all morning to see me.

And then he said it. "You look beautiful this morning." in his greek accent, in his slow and soft way of speaking.

I almost died inside. On the verge of my stomach threatening to tighten so much I would choke. Something my husband hadn't said to me in a long time, something I didn't want to hear from him anyway. I didn't want anything anymore, if it wasn't him.

Giannis lived on the other side of the city. A thirty minute drive from where I lived. As the day came to an end and they packed up to leave, I found myself in a situation I hadn't anticipated. Aggelos was staying at his brothers house, and he very sweetly invited me to go and meet him later for a drink at a pub nearby. He explained that he would like to pick me up but his car was at home in his garage, in Athens.

I giggled and told him I was married. He said he knew, he'd seen my wedding ring. But he stood firm. Stared at me whilst I tried to hold my nerve. He wasn't forceful, I could see that it meant something to him. He wanted to thank me for being so welcoming. For making him feel comfortable in my company, he admitted that he struggled to form connections with people but with me it had been so natural. And I had to agree. Everything with him had felt so natural, like breathing. So of course, I said yes.

I could tell chapters of detail. Paragraph after paragraph of the way we sat there trying not to admit how we felt. Trying not to acknowledge that my thigh was brushed against his as we sat at the table, me drinking rum and coke and him nursing a neat whisky. I could tell you about the guilt and how it ate me alive because I knew that if he tried I would let him kiss me. I could weave an epic tale of it, how I knew that night that I was in love with him and I couldn't stop it from happening. But I wont. Because some things are just too hard to bear. Even if writing this is meant to be closure, some things only need to be touched upon. Only the periphery of the memory ever talked about. Because, if ever I opened the door to those memories, I would drown in my sorrow.

Suffice to say, he did kiss me. In the parking lot. He took me away from where I stood and transported me into the very beat of his heart. He loved me, he loved me so much I could taste it in his kiss. And nothing and nobody else mattered in that moment, I wasn't married. I wasn't a Mother. I wasn't anyones but his. And it was like that until he went back to Athens three days later.

Then our life in messages began. Weekends we would spend 12 hours or more talking. Week days I knew his routine, he knew mine and we would meet and talk until the early hours. Whenever I was out of the house in the evening we would talk on the phone, me listening to him rabble on about nothing inparticular in the way he always did.

We were together. A couple. I knew his physio schedule, he knew my after school club schedule. I came to know everything about him, things he had never told another soul about his Mother dying when he was 9. Experiences he'd had with ex girlfriends. His Father not speaking to him for 2 years because he wanted to study abroad. How his sister, Sofia, longed for him to settle down with a girl. His Father lived in a house by the sea, he wanted to take me there. To show me Greece. And we would always part each night with him saying "tomorrow" and I would say "Always."

Some time at the end of January, he came back. He didn't tell Giannis he was coming, he could only be here for one night and had to fly back for work. I'd been struggling with guilt, struggling with being parted from him. He wanted to make sure that I was ok. He made the journey. A 30 minute drive to Athens airport. A four hour flight. An hour and a half drive in a hire car to my city with nowhere to sleep just to look me in the eye and tell me that he loved me.

I broke down. We walked in the woods near my house, holding hands, talking about the reality of our situation. He had never been in love before, he didn't know it would be as intense as it was, but he was determined to love me regardless. I cried a lot. Letting him put his arms around me and hold me as I tried to reconcile the fact I was married. He never once asked me to leave my husband. He never once asked me to do anything that might jeopardise my home life.

Only a hand full of times he never lost his cool. One night he couldn't take it any more and told me that he would fuck me like he hated me for not making it to be with him "years" ago before I met my husband.

I had only kissed him at this point. Most of our devotion had poured out in messages. We were intense. Bereft. Heart broken at not being able to be together in the way we wanted. He was terrified I would leave. I was terrified I would leave, I blocked him four times in moments of despair. Going back hours later each time, unable to let him go. And each time he begged me never to do it again.

I was losing my mind. I missed him, I loved him. I didn't love my husband anymore, he was like a stranger to me. Aggelos was my partner, he was the one supporting me. And I couldn't be with him.

I have to write this epitaph in two halves. I can't see for tears. I can't write the next part until I'm stronger.

#personal #my story #my love story #love story #real life story #my greek lover #my love #closure #stories

[jeonsupershy]

me: sees a black cat

also me: hehe that's totally jeon wonwoo

#real life story #it's after this that the superstition crossed my mind #shutup kashi

[lgbtq-archives]

Dwelling on regrets or embracing challenges?

#lgbtq #older gay men #older gay #gay community #mature gay men #gay over 60 #mature gay #gay couple #life regrets #dwelling on regrets #life perspective #real life story #losing parents #i'm not a victim #lgbtq archives #Youtube

[space-blue]

Wait what's this about neo nazis in memorabilia??

I mean, there simply are neo nazis in NZ.

The main shocker for me was how open they were. It wasn't so much of a problem in Wellington apparently, but I was told they were way more prevalent in... Napier, iirc.

Anyway, I was walking down Cuba st, *the* Wellington downtown hangout, middle of the day on a sunny Sunday... And I see this guy with his goth GF... He had that bavarian dungaree thing on, big work boot and knee high socks for the full look, and his tee shirt had a portrait of Hitler on a backdrop of Nazi flag.

On his chest.

And I just gaped and looked at him, waiting for someone to curb stomp him. But nobody did! Like, get out of your house like this in Paris where I'm from, and you're a fucking smear on the pavement before the hour is gone. You'll be made into a statistic.

But nobody did or said anything, and my friend explained, you know, things are different here, people were so far removed from the war... And other hogwash to try and excuse 21st century people tolerating fan clothing of the biggest, most famous genocidal maniac ever.

Kiwis are lovely, but in that regard, definitely too chill. I never encountered much racism, certainly *nothing* like the shite I saw in OZ, but that nazi bloke on a midday stroll downtown really made me queezy.

#anon ask #neo nazi #nz #new zealand #real life story

[harrison-abbott]

He was in a bad mood the moment I saw him. And remained that way for a couple of hours. He and his girlfriend ate some slushy mince and potatoes whilst they watched a comedy. And then she stayed in whilst he and I went out and about to look for a drink. And he was just mean. About my music. Kept saying these ugly things about my songs. And my lack of talent for the keys; over and over. I checked him about his aggression. He shrugged. I asked what was up with him. He said he was frustrated; that he was on anti depressants … that his girlfriend was on them, too. The flat they were staying in was this horrible part of the city. Where somebody had gotten their throat slit, literally, a few months back, for wearing the wrong football top. It was cheap: which was the only reason they were living there. He was working in a bar job, all the same, up town. When he came back with the drinks he slated one of my songs, again. “It could’ve been done better.” I had recorded it with another person and not him; and he was saying that he could have done a finer job with the song, if he was in charge. I didn’t agree with that; felt quite the opposite. And I wondered why I even stayed with him that night. It was just so odd and surprising: to have travelled three hundred miles down the nation, to hang out with your old mate, and for him to be such a bastard, all night. I understand depression, too. Of course. It doesn’t make me act like that. … Nor did he apologise for his aggressive behaviour. In the morning he just hugged me as if nothing had happened. “Harry’s shit at piano,” was the bluntest insult of the episode. But, I still kept being friends with him. Until last year, when I went to try and record with him again: and he snapped and lost his temper on Day 2. Said all of this mean stuff. So I left. Like I should’ve done back in 2015. And never went back.

#writeblr #real life story #creative writing #memoir

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

#emmanuel macron #real life story #this is not fiction

[loustrawberrie]

Anthony decided he needed a change in his life and enrolled in an exchange program in Canada. He thought it would be an opportunity to escape the social pressure and expectations of his life back home. However, what he found in Canada was much more challenging than he expected. Anthony felt lonely and depressed, missing his previous life and regretting having gone to Canada.

Meanwhile, Anthony starts dealing with feelings he had never experienced before. Gone were his days as the popular, heterosexual guy at school. He begins to question his sexual identity, feeling confused and alone. However, despite his pain and suffering, he finds a light in his life. The president of the science club, a smart and talented young man, starts paying attention to him and making him feel valued.

Based on true events.

A story of gay romance.

#bases on true events #real life #real life story #wattpad #ao3 link #ao3 writer #ao3 story #original story #gay #gay story #gay pride #gay teen #gay romance #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #writing #writing community #writing prompts #love story #ao3 love story #ao3fic #larry fandom #gay books #book recommendations #bookworm #lgbt books #bookaddict

[agentem]

One thing I wish I knew when I was in school and complaining about them, is that life is just one big group project. And you are always saddled with at least one idiot.

But somehow we gotta get the project done.

... that’s also Congress now that I think about it.

#real life story #congress #life advice #teen me #school #group project

[eclectic-ways]

Imagine, you have been through tragedies in your personal life. In your 30s unfortunate things still continue.

Imagine, you started dodging everyone, especially avoiding romantic relationships. For two years you had no sex.

Imagine then someone very special comes into your life. Someone that comes to your place so often whom you talk to from 8pm to 4am for weeks, not knowing how time passes. You decide to finally let things be and happen.

Imagine, it is still hard for you to give in to love, to touch and to kiss. But this person is becoming more irresistible on each meeting. After four weeks of frequent meetings through deepening bonds, you finally become “one”.

Imagine, this person learns about the most personal things about your life from health and family issues to how wounded you are in relationships, in your heart and soul.

Imagine, you start to feel like you met the twin flame and the future spouse of your life. You do your absolute best to look your prettiest self to this person that has huge muscles and great body. Most importantly, to a person that has these beautiful eyes and soul. You have never seen beautiful eyes like theirs in your lifetime.

Imagine that you do intensive workouts and all kinds of facial treatments to look better, to “deserve” them. Cleaning your house like a crazed Virgo before each meeting despite of your (fibro) flareups. And one day you accidentally cause a crack on your femur bone (which you had so many issues and surgeries from before) because of pushing too hard during a workout.

Imagine now, you immediately have to go abroad, to the country you were born in to meet your leg doctors. You get the bad news that you have to be taken to a surgery asap. You go through a major surgery for 6 hours. They keep you in sleep for 3 days straight post-surgery due to severe pain.

Imagine still how much motivated and happy you are thinking about your person. Can’t stop talking about them to all your friends and family. You start doing crunches on the floor of your hospital room on the 3rd day of this heavy orthopedic surgery while morphines are not enough to suppress your leg pain, just so you don’t gain weight back and lose shape for your loved-one. Doctors and nurses watch you in awe.

Imagine, you’re still so motivated, and this indescribable warmth covers your entire chest despite of all the anxiety and physical pain. You can’t stop smiling about how they almost teared up the day you left. How they hugged, cuddled and kissed you for hours before you left. How hardly they left your hand like in the movies. All the promises they gave you. You also get carefully picked and thought-out presents for them and their mother before you leave your native country.

Now imagine, you go back to where you live. You rush there not listening to anyone, leaving all the support system behind and going abroad just a month after a life changing surgery.

Imagine, after 14 hours of flight and pain, heavy morphine in your blood, you arrive home (where you live). And your person comes to your place few hours after your arrival — only to give you the bad news.

Imagine, they tell you that they want a break or a breakup. But they still stay in your place for the night. You give them the presents anyway. The next morning they hold your hand and look sad and confused.

Imagine so you try hard not to lose them for about a month. But they are just fading away. They said they want the possibility of being together again in the future but they act like they don’t mind losing you at all. They don’t even care about your wellbeing at this point. You ask every question as for why they don’t want it, they genuinely deny it all.

Imagine finally, you cut the cords with the person you fell in love with for the first time in 15 years. Imagine the pain and suffering. Imagine the swallowing darkness.

Imagine, this actually happened to someone.

#imagine #bpd #real life story #this actually happened #bpd blog #bpd fp #spoonie witch #spoonie blogger #spoonie #relationship #breakup #fibrolife #soul shatter #trauma #heartbreak

[weightlosstransformationstories]

The bride who lost 135 pounds and wore her dream wedding dress.

When Mary Jane O'Toole got engaged to her longtime boyfriend in 2016, she couldn't have been more excited about it. Weighing 281 pounds, however, made picking out a wedding dress somewhat of a disheartening process.

"I didn't want to buy a plus-size wedding dress, because they cost way more than straight sizes," O'Toole told People in April. "I felt like I was paying this fat tax—I didn't have the ability to buy affordable clothes because I was bigger."

When she and her husband-to-be saw photos of themselves from a trip to Disney World, they made the decision to lose weight together and began tracking their calories and meals !

O'Toole lost 75 pounds in the first year, and another 25 once the couple began incorporating exercise into their routine. By the time the wedding rolled around earlier this year, she had lost a total of 135 pounds and was able to walk down the aisle in the dress of her dreams.

#weight loss #lose weight #lose stomach weight #losing weight #how to lose weight #how to lose weigth fast #lose weight fast #lose weight before marriage #real life story #popular post #weight loss solution #weight loss transformation

[some-girls-diary]

this is my REAL life story that HAPPENED to ME!!!!

my friend and i were very distraught over the death of neil 😔 so we went to spencer’s tm 🤪 🍆to go piss out our sadness. we were minding our own business, pissing on the dildos when a #karen 🥑👩 employee came up to us and said, rather rudely: “why art though pisseth on mine spencer dildos?” 👉👌 we just turned to her and said: “THIS IS FOR NEIL” 🤟🤟 we kept on pissing and had a gay ol’ time. after a moment the ENTIRE store started clapping and chanting: “neil neil neil neil!” and we all danced into the night on the down with cis bus and sonic showed up and we convinced him to love the sjw’s!🫀👦📬.

that was my REAL LIFE REAL story! hope you liked it reblog if you support gay people.

#real #real story #this happened #this happened to me #neil #neil is cool #me and my friend did this #down with cis bus #support gay people #real life #real life story #neil did a good job in his play #real story that happened

[liquidstar]

Yes, Greece still exists, we didn't all die 2000 years ago. Yes, people speak Greek. You people are so fucking stupid for real. So many of you claim to love ancient shit but can't even acknowledge the actual living culture of the people whose mythology and classics you romanticize. You keep leaving annoying comments about how you just forget Greek people still exist, thinking you're being quirky because you love ancient stuff soooo much that you forgot about the people it came from. You think about it so little you don't even realize that an actual Greek person has to read this shit, making it clear how little you actually care about the culture beyond the romanticized (and westernized) mythology. Don't claim you love Greece, don't use our mythology anymore if you can't acknowledge that we're still around without making it about how little you think about us. It's mind boggling that you'd think a Greek person would read this and think you're anything but obnoxious. Explode.

#this post is edited because you're all annoying. maybe I'll turn it back someday #it sucks that people can't even be normal about a funny family story once the fact that we're greek comes into the fold #suddenly its all about blorbofied mythology shit and idiots saying ''GREECE IS REAL???? 🤯🤯🤯🤯'' yeah percy j*ckson didnt make it up #maybe it would be less annoying if they weren't all saying it like I'd think it's funny that they don't know we exist instead of like #disturbing on a personal level. like what the fuck #man if you can't acknowledge we exist in real life just name your oc Icarus something else idgaf #so yeah explode. Skase. Voulos'to. Valto mesa sto katamalakismeno mouni tis mana's sou. Psophise. etc.

[planningisnotmystrength]

something I think about often is this one time when I was at Souplantation (buffet-style restaurant in southern California, keep up) and they had just brought out a completely fresh cheese pizza as I was making my way through that part of the buffet line and this like 11-12 year old kid next to me immediately does a fist pump and under his breath goes "yuss, score one for the Coopster."

#I think about him a lot #I hope he's happy #because that moment has brought me so much joy #score one for the coopster #real life story #man I miss Souplantation #shit was good #souplantation

[coolaboutlucy]

bro don’t put me in the court for any sport. i will LITERALLY become a professional bench warmer. like for example, can’t play basketball because a. the stupid hoops are phonys and b. i can’t get my trick shot in. can’t play volleyball either! almost broke my glasses tryna serve a ball once and baby… that impact ain’t no joke. ts HURT SO BAD!!!!

#wlfabby #adria lore #sports #real life story #😱