#I'm off tomorrow at least but I'm gonna look into health insurance stuff tomorrow...

[audiovisualrecall]

The two sketchbooks side by side 😊

[begitalarcos]

Hey Guys

Wow it's been quite some time. In regards to my last life post (that I don't remember making) but did happen and was very difficult to deal with all the fall out for like... more than a month after.

I'm sorry I left you all with that and then just disappeared again. Things have been weird the last couple months... to put it in simple words... shit sucks

The falling out with my daughter caused a huge rift between several people who (were not involved but still had a very loud opinion about things) and quite a few uncomfortable conversations.

I unfortunately started drinking as a way to deal with not dealing with things (I'm good now but I had about 3 weeks of just being smashed on the regular) and during that time I suffered an awful fall which resulted in me slipping a disc in my back. Possibly 2 of them but I've had such a hard time dealing with doctors lately that no one in the medical field has been particularly helpful. So I've been living off a cocktail of painkillers for almost 2 months now (which I hate), I was going to physio but then my insurance decided not to cover my sessions until I could PROVE I was actually hurt.

Tomorrow I go for an assessment with a new doctor to try and get my insurance to cover treatment again, my MRI isn't even until August of next f*cking year. -_-

Our healthcare system is an absolute joke right now.

On top of being in CONSTANT pain (not being able to sit or lie down for very long either cuz I lose feeling in my legs) my daughters disability/mental health program has decided to just... not help anymore until she gets a new assessment. Even though its been almost 3 years and she's still on a waiting list for an adult psychiatrist.

So the last week or so now everyone is coming back to me to try and fix/smooth things out again (after I was basically pushed out of her life because I was "making shit up" and "didn't actually care" and apparently was just being a control freak) and no one has apologized for the way they treated me or forced me out of helping my own kid. Nope. They just expect that now that she has no financial coverage that I should be the one to speak for her again cause they have no idea what to do. -_-

My husband has been solid thankfully, even though his relationship with Sassy has suffered so much because of the people around her who have influenced her... not always for the better. But I at least have maintained a sense of control in a way that's worked for me.

I told everyone who has given me grief for the past couple years about Sassy (including Sassy) that if I am going to advocate for her and get this stuff sorted out that I'm doing it my way, and if I get any push back or flack from anyone - then I'm done. They can figure it out themselves and I wash my hands of it all.

My husband thinks I shouldn't have gotten involved again at all, but I know (and I knew things were gonna blow up eventually) if I don't fix this... its gonna become my problem again anyways.

This past month or so I've had some really good breakthroughs with my therapist about my toxic coping skills, people pleasing and lack of boundaries with family members.

I feel better about things though than I ever have and now that I am standing firm with my boundaries and my convictions its been much easier for me to deal with any gaslighting or potential drama that people have tried to start up with me.

I know this got super long winded and I didn't intend for it to be as rambling and trauma dumpy as it was but - it is good to get things out and clear the air. As I feel like I sort of left an air of weirdness here for quite sometime.

Working on getting back to the things that I enjoy and stop becoming immersed in other peoples drama and things that I can't change.

I've missed you guys and crikey has Tumblr changed since I've been away. But I'm hopeful and I look forward to getting back into fandoms and gif sets and all those things I loved so much again <3

much love to you all

B

[lampmeeting]

“show me where it hurts” + chickles for the caretaking prompt, if you’d be so kind ♡

ooooo gladly! :D this got a little longer than i planned haha! i haven't written in weeks and weeks and i miss it :')

The back bedroom of the apartment stunk of body odor and pot and old takeout, but Charles was keeping a stiff upper lip. He had receipts and ledgers and forms spread out on the foot of Pickles' bed, and he'd dragged in one of the last functional kitchen chairs. Somehow, showing the boys how to do their taxes had turned into Charles doing all their taxes while they played.

Well, just as long as they were practicing...

Beyond the closed door, the band was so loud he worried his fillings would come loose from the vibrations. Or maybe a neighbor would call the cops again. At least he always kept earplugs on him, even if the little pieces of foam were no match for this "death metal" stuff.

His eyes were beginning to cross from the strain just as the music thankfully let up. Charles sighed and took the plugs out to rub at his sore ears and yawn.

"No, dood! Back off, no way!"

"Scho I can't even TRY?"

The muffled conversation from the living room quickly grew into a shouting match, and Charles recognized the culprits. He stood, fixed his suit jacket, and left the bedroom to assess the situation.

"Murderface, if you don't stop tryna touch me I'm gonna start punchin'!"

"I wanna help, asschole!"

"I seen where those fingers've been! Fuck you!"

Pickles was on his feet near his drum throne, right arm held close to his chest like it pained him. Murderface was up in his personal space, looking hurt and frustrated.

Charles found Nathan against the wall. "What's, ah...is everything all right out here?"

"It's fine," Nathan said. "Pickles just fucked up his arm again."

"Oh," Charles said. "That doesn't actually sound fine at all."

"That'sch what I'M schaying!"

Pickles bristled. "Fer the last time, Murderface, yer NAHT touchin' this arm! Yer gonna fuck it up more!"

"I'm a licschensched masscheusche!"

Magnus let out an incredulous bark of a laugh. "Since when??"

"SINCE WH--" Murderface just about popped from anger. "I TOOK NIGHT CLASSCHESCH FOR THE LASCHT SCHIX MONTHSCH!"

"Ohhh," Skwisgaar piped up. "DAT'S wheres you was goings to. Thoughts you ams leavings all de times to makes us thinks you ams havings a gorlfriend."

"Y'KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU GUYSCH I QUIT!"

"Awwww," giggled Skwisgaar.

Magnus rolled his eyes. "Nooo dooon't."

Murderface slung his bass over his shoulder and stormed out of the apartment in a pout, slamming the door behind him. Charles wished he'd still been wearing his earplugs.

"Sorry about that shit," said Nathan to him. "Magnus, fuck's sake, can you, like--"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll get the kid. Hang on."

Magnus left, and Skwisgaar laid down on the sofa to do some fretting exercises. Nathan grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed it to Pickles, who pressed the can to his elbow, wincing.

"Fuck...s'pretty bad this time, Nat'n."

"Why didn't you fucking say so before practice?"

"I dunno, thought I could power through it with some coke like usual."

"We need a drummer that can actually, like, drum, Pickles."

"I know, dood. I'll get it looked at next week."

"Tomorrow."

"Sure, okay. Fuck."

Pickles didn't have health insurance. Charles knew this. None of them did, in fact. And he'd just been going over the band budget. They didn't have money for doctors. Not until the record deal with Crystal Mountain finalized, if it was even going to work out at all.

Charles cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I don't mean to, ah, overstep here...but Pickles, I could look at your arm, if you'd like."

Curious green eyes blinked at him. "Really? You a lawyer and a doctor?"

"No, ah, just...I studied a bit of kinesiology in college."

"Well I dunno what the fuck that means, but awright, sure."

Given the earlier fuss over Murderface's offer, Charles hadn't expected Pickles to accept so readily. But before he could think about it too hard, Pickles led him into the back bedroom again and shoved aside the papers and notebooks so he could sit on the edge of the mattress and crack open his beer. Taxes obviously were not getting done tonight.

"You may want to actually, ah, lie down."

Their eyes met again, and suddenly there was heat under Charles' collar.

"I-I mean if you--only if you're comfortable."

He hadn't anticipated how intimate this would feel. He'd helped his fencing teammates with their injuries all the time and it was never awkward. Then again, he hadn't been in their bedrooms.

Pickles chugged the beer down and pivoted himself on the bed so he could recline into the pillows. He let his injured arm rest loose beside him.

"Now just, ah, show me where it hurts."

"Like right here," Pickles said, pointing with his other hand to the crook of his arm. "Right in the elbow joint. Hurts to straighten it out or bend it too much, and pressing on it hurts like a bitch."

"I see." Charles wondered if he should remove his suit jacket for what he needed to do next, but decided to keep it on in the interest of maintaining at least some professional decorum. "Unfortunately I will need to press on it."

Pickles swallowed. "S'okay."

Taking Pickles by the wrist, he gripped the offending elbow and slowly turned the arm in various ways, feeling out the tendons and muscles surrounding the joint. Every time Pickles flinched or inhaled sharp, Charles applied some pressure to zero in on the problem, until finally he pushed his thumb in hard and Pickles yowled.

"FUCK!"

"Ah, there it is."

"Fuck you, that HURTS!"

"I know it does, I'm sorry. It you could manage a bit longer, though."

Pickles hesitated, eyes watering, but gave him a nod.

Charles held the arm steady and dug into the muscle, dragging his thumb up along the bicep and into the shoulder, then down into the meaty part of the forearm, then repeating, over and over, not letting up even as Pickles let out a quick sob and threw his other arm across his eyes.

The whole thing lasted maybe fifteen minutes, but by the end both men were sweating and exhausted as if they'd been working out together for an hour. Charles really should've taken off his suit jacket. Oh well.

Cradling the elbow in his hands, he bent it gingerly, then straightened it out again. "How is that feeling?"

Pickles rubbed at the corner of an eye and sniffled. "S'better. Like not all the way, but--"

"Oh, no, not without rest. A week off the drums might suffice."

Pickles started to sit up and protest, but Charles put a hand to his chest and coaxed him down.

"And you need to ice it. Not just, ah, beer it. All right?"

"...awright."

Charles still had his hand planted on Pickles' chest. The heartbeat beneath his palm was strong and fast, the skin under the ratty black fabric overheated. He drew himself back from the bed and straightened his tie, feeling much too hot himself.

His fingertips buzzed. He wasn't accustomed to touching people much anymore.

"I'll, ah, go get some ice for that now, actually. You just, ah. Stay here. Take it easy."

"I'm real good at that."

Charles went for the door, already anticipating how nice it was going to feel to put his head in the freezer.

"Hey Charlie?"

He paused in the doorway. "Hm?"

"Thanks fer the help." Pickles nestled further down into the pillows. "I usually just get so high I forget it's hurtin', but I like doin' it yer way."

Charles smiled. "Once it's healed, I can, ah, show you some preventative stretches. If you'd like."

"Oh word?" Pickles smiled back. "Well it's a date then."

A date. How silly. That didn't sound very professional at all.

But it did sound...nice.