A few days ago I went to visit my grandpa, as I haven't seen him in a few months.
He's on his death bed; his time is fast approaching. I saw it in his eyes. They looked glassy.
My father warned me that it wouldn't have been pretty to see him like that. I wasn't expecting it to be. He's been sick a while and my dad has been taking care of him almost entirely by himself, so I knew it wasn't gonna be nice. Though I'll say, seeing my boisterous, larger-than-life grandfather reduced to the shadow of a man left a bitter taste in my mouth - and tears in my eyes. Still I did not cry. I didn't want grandpa to see me, just in case. I realized that he wouldn't have been able to see me anyway: he looked almost lost in thought. Completely out of it. All he could do was hold his face in his hands, too weak to even roll over.
He didn't respond to my dad when he called for him, nor did he acknowledge my presence initially. My dad glossed over it. Apparently he's not been able to recognise my dad for a few days now. Still, I could have sworn I heard my grandpa mutter his name a few times.
After a while, something happened. Grandpa took his hands off his face and glanced around. Then he looked at me. I cocked my head to the side and said hi. His eyes went wide when I smiled at him. He smiled back. Half hearted, strained, but it was there, and I was so relieved. My dad was wrong; he recognised me. He knew I was there and that I came to say goodbye. I extended my hand towards his own over the bed. He was far away, I thought had to lean in, but I didn't need to. He reached out first. His hand was shaking, purplish in color, but it held mine like it was his last lifeline.
For some reason, this reminded me of something. From times when grandpa wasn't sick, and I heard him talking to my dad over the phone. My dad is a 60 year old man: and still, before hanging up, my grandpa always told him, "A dopo amore." ("Later love"; in Italy, parents oftenly refer to their children as "love"). Because he's still his father's love, even at 60 years old. Me and my sister were also given the same nickname by grandpa, and even as he was fading away, I was still his "love". I felt it in the way he held my hand.
That's how I wanna remember him. So I won't be going to see him again, nor will I look back. I left him with that.
A dopo, amore.
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-mor mandela fellas-
Bunch of old DTIYS I participated in last year on instagram (my artstyle has changed quite a bit…)
Jus wanted to compile it into a post!
LIST:
@/bluez.revelol’s DTIYS (#reveloldtiys)
@/minteey_mint’s DTIYS (#minteeysbpsdtiys)
@/toast_not_here.exe 300+ DTIYS (#thetoast300dtiys)
[under cut]
@/polybiuses_ 400+ DTIYS (#polybius400)
(mark w/ blood vers. + another dtiys undah cut in case of tw)
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GRAHHHGHGHHGHFRRGRRR sorry this is a purrsonal complaint post but like i understand people who think zim is like 30 like whatefur thats fine but what i DONT get is people who then go and ship him with PROFFY M who thought he was a CHILD HIS SONS AGE ((even if mew dont think he is)) GRAHHRRRRR
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Am I the only one who makes whump content of SCP-049?
i hope not, cause that's a cool concept!
overall, SCP whump is something that I've never thought of, but the setting is pretty good for it.
this is barely related to this ask, but speaking of SCPs in a whumpy setting, there was this one that trapped a scientist in a separate realm to just torture the poor guy endlessly by basically writing its own SCP file? it was kinda meta and reminded me of the stories where the whumpee is somewhat aware of existing in a story that's being written to make them suffer. if anyone remembers the SCP number pls tell me! and also if this kind of concept sounds fun to you this is a psa to do horrible things to Cato in a story by @hurtthemgently which has a similar vibe and meta-aware characters. :)
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