#Threw in a bit of Maden

[void-hoodie]

(A timestuck au)

Maybe he shouldn't have left the kid with his brother who lives in a hunted cabin

Some of the story

I read a few timestuck AUs, and what caught my attention the most was when ever the twins separated and Dipper ends up with Ford, he's subjected to a lot of stress and emotional distress due Ford's unstable behavior and constant distrust, especially when it's specifically the time where he calls Stan to hid the journal. along with physical harm when Bill possess Ford's body, even attempt to kill him.

so in this one it was inspired by this fic (not fanart but got the idea from it) i decided to take it up a notch!

the twins who was about go spend their summer with their grunkle ends up both with young Stan instead. Stan after they showed him the proof of them being from the future after showing him a picture of his big brother shermie in his senior years, decids to take them to his estranged twin brother to try and figure out how to help them. (it was a bit before the portal was activated for the first time, but still had a fight with Fiddleford)

the next day,Stan, after realizing Ford had no actual food in his home other than coffee, decides to go shop for a few thing.

it was also 5am in the morning everyone was awake except Dipper who was too mentally and physically exhausted to wake up to anything.

Mabel decided to go with Stan to make sure he buys what they need, but she was hesitant about leaving Dipper, but she knows that this is gonna be the only time he sleeps deeply until their situation is solved, and with some reassurance from grunkle Ford about telling him when he wakes up, she goes.

Ford deciding to figure out what to do to send the twins back to their time, goes to the basement to do some research, accidentally falls asleep.

BILL who was watching the whole time immediately took control of the sleeping man's body, excited about someone new to play with he looks around , graps a scalpel puts it in the possessed man's pocket and leaves the basement straight to the attic where the boy is sleeping.

seeing the sleeping form of the kid, starfished, using Stan's dirty jacket as a blanket snoring softly.

BILL chose to mess a bit with the kid before trying anything else, he got closer and held the tween's nose cutting his breathing, gradually Dipper started to squrim from not breathing right, trying to breath from his mouth, BILL used his other hand and cut that too.

eventually, Dipper jolted from his sleep trying to breathe the missing air before he noticed his other great uncle looking down on him, smiling amusingly, like he was enjoying the fact Dipper almost choked, his smile also held sadistic enjoyment.

Alarms blaring in his head, he moved away,from the man, and he heard him say in a disoriented voice "why the rush to leave? We're having fun!" He said joyfully.

Fight or flight kicking in, Dipper picked the nearest box and threw it at his great uncle(?) And immediately jumped to his feet and ran out the attic, thinking of rushing outside the cabine the man is instantly chased after him, like he wasn't fazed by the attack, so Dipper hid instead.

Waiting for the man to go somewhere else, his heart beating like a rabbit's, he strains his ears to hear if he's still around.

Believing the coast to be clear, he leaves his hiding spot and books it for the door.

Only to feel a hand on his arm tighted and harshly pulling him backward in a painful tug, immediately following a sharp burning pain in his right shoulder, tearing out an ear splitting scream from him.

Trying to focus his eyes, he saw a scalpel imbued in his shoulder. He couldn't even register his blood before it was ribbed out and pierced into his left thigh, making his vision momentarily disappear from the pain.

He heard a maden laughter from above where he was laying on his back in pain and his right arm still held in a bruising grip.

The last thing he his mind made out before shutting down was the blooded surgery knife coming down on him again.

The first thing Ford mind caught on was all the fresh blood around him, that's the only thing his mind locked on the moment the his eyes caught sight if the blood staind hat with the little star on it.......

He knew who's the owner of the hat, even if he only met him yesterday, but where is he?

That is the only thing that circled his mind. Not the growing pain in his head, not the blood-soaked scalpel, not even moving a muscle from where he's kneeling.

He only moved his head when the door opened and two different gasps, followed by a shriek and sound of some things dropping . Meeting the horrified faces of his twin brother and the sister of the gone boy.

(Might make a comic for the rest of this idk)

[viscountessevie]

Mayrid of Problems

[No that title is not a typo, it will make sense when you read the fic]

A/N: Gahhh it frustrates me that I didn’t like/reblog/bookmark the post that inspired this fic but if the blogger who came up with that headcanon sees this, please tell me so that I can give you all the credit you deserve for this genius prompt. I present to you:

May and Marid’s One Night Stand

May groaned as another boyfriend walked out on her. What was it with people and unable to deal with the fact she did not want to have kids? Her nephews nieces were more than enough.

It wasn’t just the kids issue; her previous beaus always found one reason or another to leave. She can’t blame all of them for her short term relationship; she has broken up with several of them because they wanted the fame that came with dating the Queen’s sister. It was fun the first few years, her boy craziness finally paying off. Everyone wanted her and she gladly welcomed her. But now well into her 30s, she wanted to settle down. To have that one companion she can count on whenever. She wants what her sister has with Maxon.

As she watched her now ex-boyfriend walk away, she knew that wasn’t happening anytime soon. She wished she could turn back time and enjoy her youth a little bit more. That’s what she needed; to feel young again. May was usually a magnetic and positive person but some days just got her down and she needed to drown her sorrows. She ended up at Angeles’ Hell, a new and upcoming bar for the 20 something trust fund babies of Angeles. This was the perfect place for her to down a few drinks and momentarily forget about her failure of a love life. Hey, maybe she could find a younger guy to keep her warm for a night.

That is exactly what she did.

His bright smile was enough for May to swoon. She could have ran her hands through his mass of curls for the rest of her days. His eyes were deep set and charming. He dazzled and swept her off her feet. He was the perfect stranger.

So of course she slept with him.

He was the solution to her problems. She needed to feel young and that young man fulfilled all her needs. For that one night, she felt free of her previous romantic endearvors. She didn’t have to worry about what would happen next. She just focused on the now. She could worry about tomorrow when it came.

Worry is exactly what she did.

Marid Illéa just turned 20, he was determined to finish his teenhood bucket list and start a new one for adulthood. He had finally checked off ‘Sleep with an older woman’. My, the redhead he picked up the night before was wild. He was feeling pretty good about himself. So good that he was going to ask her to stay for breakfast. You need to know that Marid does not do The Morning Afters. He’ll usually kick her out the moment she opens her eyes. He stared at his ceiling and sighed contently. He heard his redhead echo the content sigh. They simultaneously turned to each other and yelled. They jumped away from each other in digust. They should have known better.

His dazzling smile was a little too iconic. Her red hair was a little too Singer.

As they examined each other, they saw all the years they missed after the Illéas left the Palace. May saw how his round face had become a strong jaw line sharp enough to cut, and his stringy limbs had filled out, she had felt up his muscles the night before.

Marid was at a loss for words. He used to have a school boy crush on her. She had aged well. Her features were more set and prominent. Her usual giddy smile was pulled back into a grimace as she assessed the situation.

“You can’t tell anyone!” They both exclaimed at each other before sighing in relief that their twisted secret would be kept safe. Marid was still in awe of his old babysitter. The Schreaves and Illéas were busy people so when their children needed tending to; Magda and May would take over. This was of course before they had moved. Marid had taken a immerse liking to May.

May noticed his staring and raised her eyebrows.

“What are you staring at?” “I can’t quite believe it’s you. How have you been?” “Can I have a moment to change and breakfast before we start with the small talk?” He nodded and left her to be while he changed in the guest room. Once they were both dressed, they met up in the living room. May was examining the apartment. She turned to him when she heard footsteps.

“Where are your parents?” He rolled his eyes. “I moved out the moment I turned 18. We had differences in beliefs.” “They seem to have differences with everyone.” May joked. Marid could only respond with an exasperated sigh.

“So what was the beloved sister of the Queen doing at Angeles’ Hell? You and I both know that isn’t the place for the larger than life May Singer.” He could pretend all he want but he had kept tabs on the royal family, especially May. He was hoping for the day he could reenter her life because she had always made his life a little brighter. He was also keeping an eye out for a husband; it couldn’t be just anyone, it had to be someone worthy of May. So of course Marid had guessed why she was at the bar the night before. She was lonely.

Despite it all, he wanted to hear it from her. It wasn’t his place to throw assumptions at her. Being May, she was known for being energetic and happy all the time. She was determined to keep up that side of her even if it gets tiring after a while.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teased him. It was better than admitting that the cheerful May Singer was lonely and a little sad. Marid saw right through her but decided to keep quiet. She would open up when she wanted.

“Fair enough. Strawberry tarts and chamomile tea just the way you like it.” He served her. As she took her place at the coffee table, he went back into the kitchen to get his own breakfast. “Chocolate covered waffles and mocha I assume?” She guessed. He nodded with a smirk. It’s like they never left each other’s lives. They spent the rest of breakfast catching up. While Marid was on task with keeping up with the Schreaves, May was only vaguely aware of what Marid had been up to all these years.

After breakfast, they had to get on with their lives. Marid was deflated that the spell would be broken as soon as May left. Quite the contrary, before leaving, she turned to him.

“We should do this again.” Running the words through her head, she corrected herself, “By this I mean breakfast and nothing else.” Marid grinned, clearly amused but nodded nonetheless. They bid their goodbyes and went their seperate ways.

They both became too busy to have breakfast again. When Eady announced her Selection, both of them got to working. May was obviously helping her niece prepare while looking for her own suitors in Eady’s pile. Marid, on the other hand, had more devious plans. For you see, beliefs that Marid and his parents differed in involved the Illéan Throne. August and Georgia were perfectly fine with the Schreaves ruling whereas Marid felt as though he had been robbed of his birth right. A little after the Illéas had left the Palace after their falling out with the Schreaves, Marid took his father’s stash of diaries by their ancestors as an act of defiance. He found Gregory’s journals and started reading. The more he studied Gregory’s journals, the more he wanted the Throne and knew he deserved it.

As right as Marid may be about the Throne being rightfully his, he wanted it for all the wrong reasons. He wanted it for the power. To have a kingdom at his fingertips. The Schreaves - especially King Maxon had inherited the Throne deservingly and was ruling the country for the right reasons. He wanted the best for Illéa.

For years, Marid had been waiting for the ample opportunity to slither into the good graces of the Schreaves and strike. Eadlyn’s Selection was the opportunity that he had been waiting for. He had waited years, a few more months until she has narrowed down her Elite was nothing. His plan was to reenter her life and sabotage the Elite all while making himself seem like the perfect suitor. Once Eady marries him, he’ll either stage a death or make her bend to his will.

The idea came to him when he slept with May. Initially, he wanted to use May to get to his goal but he respected her too much to do that to her. Eady on the other hand, he knew from the moment they were playmates that she would be a terrible Queen. So there would be no lost love.

While May was trying to piece the most fulfilling life for herself, Marid set his plan to get Eady in motion. In short, his plan did not work. It all went down the drain. She declared Illéa a constitutional monarchy and picked a husband who wasn’t even in the running for her Selection. He was hoping the backlash of the latter would help him gain favour of the citizens. But before he could devise another scheme to do that, May put a stop to it.

This was their first meeting after the one night stand. May was furious. How dare he manipulate her niece like that? She barged into his apartment and started giving him a earful.

“How could you?” Was the first thing she yelled at him. Then she goes on to rant about everything wrong with what he did to Eady; all the manipulation and blackmail. She went on about how disgusted she was about all of it. Marid was hardly paying attention, he had heard this all from his parents after The Schreaves had relayed the shit he had tried to pull. The only thing that struck a chord with him when May gave him a piece of her mind was when she delievered her final line.

“I’m so disappointed in you.” He stopped breathing for a moment. He turned to her slowly. No one has ever said that to him, his parents somewhat expected this. They were always mad at him, not disappointed. Disappointed suggested that they believed in him. No one ever believed in him, he had to believe in himself and built himself up to be the man of the media he was today. He knew there was a reason he liked May. Even when they were younger, she believed in him. He knew what he had to do. Marid never had any regrets in life but the only two he had now was not reaching out to May earlier and having disappointed her. He did something he never thought he’d do. He apologised.

“I’m sorry, May.” She softened a little, seeing how apologetic he was but that doesn’t excuse how he was with Eady. She stared him down firmly. “I’m not the one who you should be apologising to.”  He pursued his lips. He did not want to apologise to Eady. She would throw it in his face. May, almost reading his mind, insisted that it was the right thing to do. He groaned and whined but eventually gave in. May escorted him to the Palace to make sure he didn't make a run for it.

He didn't even want to replay that scene in his head. She laughed at him. That horrid girl - his Queen actually laughed at him when he apologised. With the killer side eye May was giving him, he had to take the emotional hit. He was not happy about it to say the least. He crossed his arms furiously as he stomped his feet all the way out like a child throwing a tantrum.

“I can't believe you made me do that!” He turned on her as soon as they left the Palace grounds. She rolled her eyes. “Eady could have had imprisoned for treason so don't pull this tantrum with me, Marid. I'm losing my patience with you.” May said sharply. He was taken back. He was starting to see the error of his ways. When you piss off May Singer, you know you're doing something wrong. He apologised meekly but she was having none of it. They parted ways, May asking him to only contact her after he has pulled himself together.

True to his word, he stayed away until he got himself together. Months later, he set up a meeting with May. He had a surprise for her and funnily enough she did too. He asked her to meet him at Leo’s soccer games. She was confused at the location but agreed nonetheless. When she walked up to the bleachers with a certain tall, dark and handsome gentleman, Marid’s heart dropped. His plan was a bust. May thought the same when she saw a caramel haired man by Marid’s side. They pushed all negative feelings away and smiled at each other. They introduce each other’s companions.

“Baden Trains?” Marid frowned, wasn't he a part of Eadlyn’s Selection. “Your uncle?” The dashing young man by Marid’s side was far too young to anyone’s uncle. Then again so was she. They excused themselves from their friends and sorted this out.

“Are you trying to set me up with your uncle?” “Are you doing the same with Baden?” They both nodded at the same time and grinned. They wished each other luck and went to meet their respective dates.

Marid shook hands firmly with Baden and was immediately smitten. May shyly went up to Marid’s uncle, most likely August’s brother because they looked so similar. She offered him a tentative smile; she felt like she was 14 all over again. She did all the crushing rather than the other way around. He beamed at her and held out a hand.

“Hello I'm Jules Illéa.” May blushed. “May Singer...say do they name all of you after the months of the year?” He laughed a beautiful laugh and that's when she knew.

He was The One.

[writingwitheli]

GrandMech

Most mechs were hard to function, even with experienced pilots.

They didn't move like people do, the mechanics don't really allow for that. You have to know the engineering intimately to clearly envision how the thing was going to react to your direction. Most pilots spend months learning their piece before going into the field. There were simulators, and for a while the board argued for mechs to be built in a uniform manner for faster learning.

But technology went a bit too fast for that. And the things were way too expensive to mass produce.

Grandma Katersfield knew this well. It was her life's work.

I mean she wasn't my grandma. But she kinda was. She was everyone's grandma, in a way. Most mechs these days still have her work in them, even if there were scraps rebuild around it. Some people called it practical. Pilots called it good luck. The engineers called it "Finally someone who knows what they're fucking doing."

When she passed away, in her garage (had she ever existed anywhere else?), the military held a funeral. Most of the planets held a funeral. The board, somewhere in their core-planet bunkers, held a meeting.

The war wasn't over, and we weren't winning. And we'd just lost our best engineer. It was a big fucking hit for morale. There were losses everywhere.

Presumably after sending a swarm of government drones through the property, the board very quickly touted "Katersfield's Final Work", and "The culmination of everything she's ever done". Some people pointed out the public images that showed how the thing was half-done. But enough people wanted hope that everyone gradually bought into the idea.

The board appointed Katersfield's daughter to lead the finalization of the thing. Ann wasn't exactly an engineer, but they knew how the public would read it. They gave her a team of their best to work with.

When construction was nearly done, the board officially announced that Katersfield's son-in-law would be piloting it. Everyone expected it; he was the only striped pilot in the family. But it hit the top of everyone's news anyways.

The public test run was expected to be simple, and broadcasted live as far as the outer-space colonies.

It… didn't go so well.

Okay, it went very badly.

I mean.

Bad.

What followed was a lot of media confusion. The board hastily tried to put the blame on over-eagerness. People were fired. We lost four moons while our squadrons re-evaluated their lives.

Mark and his husband, Will Katersfield, had a very public divorce. Some people argue it was the media pressure. Some people suspect that the board forced them apart. I think it was a long time coming.

For a while the board pushed forward other candidates. They ran competitions for new mech designers and engineers and electricians. Offered an absurd amount of money and resources. A lot of cool stuff came out of it, but nothing really compares to Katersfield's work.

It was three years after that when media went into a frenzy over a low-grade video of the mech doing cartwheels over the family farm. Fucking cartwheels, man. I can't even do those in my own body most days.

Every news ship went down there as quick as they could. A bunch of civilians, too. Granny says a board member actually showed up in person.

Everyone was immediately on Ann about it. She was the only one that really stayed on the farm. She knew the machinery well enough. And maybe she'd inherited the pilot skills of one of Katersfield's late spouses.

To the dismay of the board, Ann insisted that the pilot was Thoma, one of Will's children. The media went ballistic. Kids weren't even supposed to be piloting mechs in the first place.

Thoma gave an interview to their school teacher and described the sensation of piloting upside down as "even better than going all the way around the bar on a swing and then having Grandma's cookies with two scoops of ice cream!" Their wide grin with missing teeth was eventually made into metal-cards for soldiers to attach under their breast plates and remind them of home.

At some point, Ann made the mistake of admitting that she'd taken it out for a test-run while she was tuning up some joints (she hadn't been an engineer when this started. But things change).

The board came down hard. They publicly announced that Ann was the cartwheeling pilot, and further that she'd accepted a high raking military title with absurd honors and enough pay to buy a moon. They posted a date with a public countdown clock for her departure to the front lines.

Now the way Granny tells it; Ann didn't know about any of this until her neighbor came by with the milk and a congratulations. Granny would probably piss on the board if she still could. Don't let her try it.

Ann did go. She didn't have many options, really. Her bio-logs phrase the situation as "the board made a decision. I complied."

We pushed back the front by two whole planets. Ann wasn't much of a pilot; she spent too much time thinking, but the war pushed around her. Most of the time it only took a three second clip of her unnaturally smooth landing and quick gravity adjustment to a new planet. My old mech would take two minutes to land and readjust. A lot can happen in two minutes.

The official report says Ann died on Mitas 9. The board will probably censor this whole damn thing if I try to explain what happened, but just remember that official reports are. Well. Official.

The mech was commandeered immediately. They cleaned it up, threw on a new coat of paint, and put their highest ranking pilot in the hotseat.

Everyone was in a hurry to get back to it and have a plan ready before Ann's death was publicly announced. Yeru knew the schematics by heart and spent one month living with the mech every hour of every day to make up for lost time. The board went as far as making them legally exempt from standard reports. Yeru's bios were never made public, but you can pull them from the military archives in Section B. They clearly knew their way around a mech, and honestly seemed to be a good person as far as I can tell.

The board had seemingly learned from prior incidents. The Generals hosted a secluded military showing of the first test-run. Those archives are probably deleted, but all you really need to know is that Yeru never made it off the ground.

For a few months, the military looked into sabotage. Yeru's bio-post about the joints being "just plain creaky no matter how much I oil the thing" convinced a bunch of higher-ups that the mech had been swapped out or something.

I know. Creating a whole fake mech to replace it with? Somehow managing to swap the thing out with as much board, military, and media surveillance as it has? Absurd.

Also I'm sure you're well aware that plenty of good mechs have creaky joints. I hear you ran Sacrifice 2 for a while there. Lt. Jen complained about how loud that thing was for months after he shared a hangar with it near Osylus. Not sure if that was your time or not. I'm going to tell him it was, so he'll have something to complain to you about. When he does, ask him about the wardrobe cloning incident. I'm sure he'll know what you're talking about.

Anyways.

The news about Ann went public, and the board pushed it down the feeds with reports about a new Stealth Carrier that would move faster than a pilot-ship. It did. Everyone loved it. I'm sure it's shit compared to the last carrier you were on.

Thoma, meanwhile, had grown up and gotten their way through military school. It might seem strange to you now, but Thoma actually didn't touch a mech the first decade of their service. They had a few friends and plenty worshipers, but still hadn't officially earned enough stripes to be a pilot. The Generals wanted to make sure Thoma was knocked down enough to keep from getting big-headed about it. But Thoma didn't really care.

Thoma fought hard and studied harder. They proved themselves again and again. You can look up the public records of their medal-acceptance speeches. Every damn time they would say "This is a great honor. Can I trade it in for a mech?"

Pissed a lot of people off, but it was fucking hilarious if you ask me.

Eventually Thoma led a fairly large squadron and took a half a continent in a week. When I asked them about it, they said they had sent a text message to the Generals saying "I could've gotten all of it, if I had my own mech :,(". I know them well enough to know they probably actually sent a frowny-face emoji to the Generals. Don't do that. It's hilarious. But, Don't.

Probably.

For now, anyways.

The board reluctantly let Thoma break the mech out of some museum somewhere as a reward for their service. They weren't intending for Thoma to actually run as a pilot since Thoma had already gotten to be in charge of things. It would be a media mess, at best, a military loss at worst.

Thoma did a fucking backflip over live media.

Anyways the board and the Generals argued about it for a week, but eventually did the only thing they could do. They made Thoma a pilot. There were lots of assurances that Thoma would still be holding their responsibilities as Planetary Sergeant. No one cared. Thoma had done a fucking backflip; the Katersfields were at it again.

I'm told that week of debate consisted of at least fifteen other pilots trying the mech out and reporting up failures of various kinds. Don't worry about that, you'll do fine.

I'm sure you know most of the story from there. Thoma took Belet 5 through Belet 11, and some other smaller planets along the way. Majestic. War hero. Idol. Etc etc.

The board immediately pushed Thoma’s son, Madene, into the military and straight into pilot's school. They make a lot of dumb decisions, but even the board could see the pattern here.

You might not have read this about me, but I used to be an electrician. I worked on Thoma's team for a while. The Generals gave Madene special permission to visit us sometimes so he could learn the mech hands-on. He'd always wanted to be an artist or a planetary refurbisher. That was clear from the first day we met.

I'll tell you this now, it's not part of public record: Madene ran the mech just fine when it was just us around. Thoma would give some long drawn-out speech about minding your manners and being careful with her. It was their Grandmother's soul in that machine, after all. Madene didn't really listen, but the mech ran just fine anyways.

When Madene was nearing graduation, the Generals sent their scouts around to see how things were going. The mech ran straight into their drones and fell convulsing onto the ground.

It was a hard time for a while, Thoma was upset with Madene and Madene was embarrassed. There were lots of arguments, and the Generals tried to pretend Madene just didn't have enough experience as a pilot. The idea that Madene did it on purpose didn't get recorded, but it's what a lot of people assumed. I don't think that's what happened, anyways.

Madene tried really hard after that. He pushed himself in school, and as a result they let him try out a bunch of other mechs. He proved he could handle it just as well as some of our better pilots. He took Entrapment marching around the school-system planet four times.

Thoma tore their knee in a pretty brutal fight, and since they were nearing retirement anyways the board arranged for a public hand-off of the mech.

I used to talk to her when I worked. My old pilot - the one I worked electricity for before Thoma - had always been superstitious about this sort've thing. She used to spend a good half-hour reassuring it before she's let me do any work on it. I guess I'd picked up the habit. You might want to pick it up, too, if you haven't already.

I'd asked her to help Madene out. He'd worked so hard and I could tell Thoma was slowing down.

You might have seen the media of that. Afterward Madene was particularly… verbal. Even if you didn't see that, I'm sure you heard about what happened to him after. Don't be too harsh on him, it's really not his fault. We were all too hard on him.

All the media says the Generals did a lot of research and realized I was better suited as a pilot and they shifted me over. How that actually happened was… well. A little boring.

One of their scouts had caught me helping her move over so I could get a better angle at the spinal wiring.

Blah blah blah. I'm sure you know the highlights from there.

So here's where we get to the advice that was the whole point of this message:

I admit the public eye is a little difficult to get used to. Honestly I recommend you just ignore it. They'll say shit no matter what you do.

Don't call her by the name the board gave her. I know that's what you learned in school and in training. Don't do it.

Don't piss her off.

Be patient - her memory isn't what it used to be.

Don't tell her what to do. I read your file, you have a lot of experience. I know this will be the hard part.

If the mediacom switches to one of those awful family gameshows. Just. Let it happen. No, they do not get less annoying to listen to. Yes, she knows they're all the same.

The internal heating will be On when you're on any below-regulation temperature planet. I know you're from the outer colonies. I know that will be too warm for you. Get over it and try not to dress down too much; she's easier to maneuver when you're in layers.

The one exception to the above is her tune-ups and maintenance. She doesn't like it. She never does. We have four crews to make it easier and I still do it myself sometimes to help her get over it. You're going to have to get good at negotiating.

If you leave a battle with a sudden craving in your neurons for hot and hearty soup, go get some hot and hearty soup. She'll get stubborn with you next time if you don't.

Granny will take care of you from there.

-Captain Layfar

[unmutedlark-blog]

TL;DR joke’s on you i went crazy years ago so keep yodeling you misfiring blob of rotted-out grey matter

it’s getting a little better every day (the fact that i can FINALLY TYPE BLOCKS OF TEXT LIKE THIS AGAIN is proof enough of that, to everyone’s chagrin but mine too listen all forms of communication physically hurt for so long i got a lot of chatter bottled up), but it’s like whatever helps one of the things going haywire in my brain and/or body exacerbates 3 other ones. i was always a shit juggler. my jaw’s a mess and pops on both sides now, so i need to stick to mostly soft food, but i need more nutrients. over or underdoing shit is gonna lead to headaches, pain, nausea, etc. my butchered muscle chart making the rounds all of a sudden has been weirdly encouraging and couldn’t have happened at a better time cause i need a damn laugh.

so it’s like... overdo it with food, stomach goes’ fuck you’. underdo it, ‘fuck you’

ginger tea, chamomile tea, heat (which i hate), stretching, resting all help the pain and barfiness a little but aren’t enough on their own. 

i usually have to use either naxopren sodium, acetaminophen, or kratom if i’ve been using either of those for several days. preparing it wrong or having ONE other factor go wrong makes THAT another barf factor, but i’ve been on NSAIDS too fucking long and it’s like... which way are we gonna punch me in the gut today? yesterday was almost perfect until i got overambitious with that fucking canned beef hash. too rich. alright, fine, who needs meat-based protein. grumblegrumble.

i think i’m hitting a good balance today though. i’ve been able to avoid taking a single aleve or tylenol, 1 tsp kratom tea without the powder, saltines, toast, cream of what, water,  water, water, 

also pineapple. juice is expensive and has more sugar added and i don’t need the crash but i got cheap no sugar added pineapples in juice and just threw that shit in the blender with a little lemon and cut it with FRESHY  FR̗̼̝̞E͝S͓̹̘̩̮͖͢H҉̠̠̻̠̟Y̴ ͔̯̮̳̥̟I̟̩̜C̡̤E ̠͇̯̙C̨͈̜̬͍̞͚O̵̤̣̘L̙̲̼̤̺͕D͔̣̣͎͔̩̝ ̯ ̘̩̖̣͢ͅWA̴T̞̟̘̤͕̥ͅE͡R͍

all this to say, since last night, that fucking sims song that sounds like ‘vagina pineapple’ has been playing on a fucking loop in my head. i’m pretty sure most of the stomach problems are actually the stress because if i manage to keep my fucking calm all day (miracle) it goes WAY down even if i’ve otherwise been kinda brutal on my stomach. 

i can’t tell if this song counts a soothing or madenning but it’s drowning out the 8 fuck billion other things my brain’s running with whether i want it to or not a little bit so 

JOIN ME ON VACATION