In honor of NYCC and the PJO news that has been blessing our dashes, we are happy to share a first look at Super Six and the Sirens Call (posting this December.)
AKA: the FirstPrince PJO AU that everyone needs in their life, co-written by @inexplicablymine @read-and-write- and @happiness-of-the-pursuit
Alex didn’t ask to be a Half-Blood, and he definitely didn’t ask to die before he hit sixteen on a Tuesday morning. But apparently beggars can’t be choosers.
Not that Alex had ever begged for anything in his life… except maybe for a dog, but he maintains that was a reasonable request to ask of his parents. Well, parent.
Ellen Claremont told him it was too much responsibility to have Alex trying to take care of a dog in the White House while she didn’t have time to clean up after it.
If only she could see him now.
Thank you to @orchidscript @14carrotghoul @suseagull04 @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @kiwiana-writes @rmd-writes for the tags over the last 14 days for Sunday shares! Happy to be back and sharing again :)
Would love to see words from anyone and everyone @adreamareads @mudbloodpotter05 @myheartalivewrites @roseapothecary @cha-melodius@gwiazdziarka @leaves-of-laurelin @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @xthelastknownsurvivorx @sherryvalli and anyone else who wants to share!
Looking back on the whole Apu controversy I wonder how much of the hatred for Apu is just a form of self hatred among 2nd generation Indian immigrants. I notice its usually 2nd generation Indian immigrants bitching about him. Even, though Apu is a 1st generation Indian immigrant.
I still feel this way about my own father's death.
Second open heart surgery, triple bypass, 91% blockage in at least one artery. A necessary risk if it meant a full life after heart surgery.
All was well, until he threw a clot from that, it went to his brain causing a bad stroke.
Neurology left us in lurch. Dropped the ball for the first year or two.
Diagnosis: VASCULAR DEMENTIA
That goddamn clot killed the brain tissue. It deteriorated his brain over 5 years. That's the average lifespan of someone with Vascular Dementia. He made it just barely into a sixth year. And only because we tirefully (yes we were very broken down tired at that point) without help of any kind kept him going until his appetite and ability to swallow finally ended his life.
There were some fun days, some jokes, some hugging and kissing and buddy days. But there was a lot of fucking suffering. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. The confusion, the bizarre things he'd do and say, the physical attacks. The moments of clarity which were like teasing us that he's back to himself only top disappear again for months.
And Death isn't easy. I was there for it. It looked hard for him. It was excruciating horror for me, and for my mom she handled it differently, maybe or her profession girded her better. Maybe it was my already fucked up psychological problems that made it so much more drastically worse for me, that and my deep closeness with my dad.
I wish I could find what Mandy Patinkin did in his scenes with the six fingered man, a short moment of catharsis. I'm still anguished about my dad's death. Granted its only been a year and 8 months for me, but it's there everyday, every second.