#and then what. a week off work because i triggered a flare up

[an-ruraiocht]

struggling a lot with not having the mental or physical capacity to engage in any meaningful form of political activism and feeling profoundly guilty about that when there are just so MANY people suffering rn. and being well aware that i also don't have the mental or physical capacity to stay on top of my actual jobs most of the time (let alone housework and my health) so it's not like I'm uniquely failing at this and in fact it's pretty reasonable that i can't do more. but still somehow feeling like if i just tried hard enough i would be able to do more and that it's just a matter of priorities. and it is partly a matter of priorities but also as for the vast majority of people "doing your day job" does actually have to be at the top of your priorities because you can't help anyone if you can't pay your bills and don't have enough to eat

and maybe i feel it more acutely because the nature of my social circles mean i have a lot of friends and acquaintances who don't have day jobs and still live at home/are funded by parents so they CAN put all their energy into politics, which is not comparing like with like. and sure for every disabled person who can't go to protests there'll be another getting arrested in their wheelchair so maybe i'm just selfish and heartless not to try harder or do more. i should definitely write to my mp more probably but i can't even stay on top of urgent work-related emails that will completely fuck me over if i don't reply on time and it keeps screwing me over. i should try to use social media to share info more maybe but the only time i've ever had a meaningful "platform" on social media it sucked so bad i made a new blog and now i don't have an audience or any interest in growing one and trying to read enough to gauge what's trustworthy just overwhelms me and social media was always my space for Not having to be mentally switched on bc it's where I go when I don't have the spoons to function in the real world. half the time these days I fall asleep on the sofa while scrolling

and then every time i get like this i make more donations to charities but there are limits to how much i can give and it seems like a bottomless pit where no matter how much money you throw at the people who are on the ground helping, it doesn't make anything better

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Tangerine can’t stand his little girl’s tears, especially when you’re the reason behind them.

WARNING: Forced/Abusive Marriage; Implied Kidnapping context; NONCON. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Make sure to imagine that lovely British accent of his, hehe. Also I wanted to wait a bit before posting this, but I wanna share this so bad :) enjoy!

--

The loud noise from the television travels to the kitchen, muffling down the sounds of the knife violently cutting down a carrot. Tangerine has a tight grip on the knife, a pissed off scowl on his face as he spits an unhealthy amount of curses. 

He’s so caught up that he misses the small quiet steps that run towards the kitchen and it’s only when there is a hesitant tug on his sleeve that he looks down, finding a small female miniature of himself, standing in her tippy toes in front of him as she raises her arms, her brown curls bouncing. 

He smiles at her, immediately picking her up, pushing the knife far away. Delighted giggles fill the kitchen as he tickles her. 

“What you doin’ here, princess? Are you hungry, sweetheart, cause lunch ain’t ready yet.” he kisses her cheek, his eyes glinting with pure amazement as he looks at Claire. 

His little angel. 

Claire’s laughter slowly dies down and she plays with the rings on his fingers. Her lip wobbles and when she finally looks at him, her eyes shinny with tears. 

It breaks Tangerine’s heart to see her like that and he wants nothing but to slap the shit out of you for making your babygirl cry. 

“I… I miss mommy.” her voice breaks as she starts crying. Tangerine sighs, hole burning in his chest as he gently pushes her head to his shoulder, rocking her in an attempt to calm her down. His hand rubs her back, her small body shaking as she sobs.

“Daddy, I want m-mommy.” she begs. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But mommy still needs some time.” he tries to console her but to no avail. 

Claire cries for what seems like forever and when she finally calms down, Tangerine's shirt is soaking wet, the lunch long forgotten. 

It takes several deep breaths for him to calm down and although he wants to go see you so badly, he puts Claire to sleep first.

He tucks her into her pink bed, placing her favorite teddy bear next to her. A peaceful expression rests on her face, exhausted from all the crying and Tangerine kisses her forehead before leaving the room.

“She fuckin’ cried herself to sleep.” Tangerine shouts to your face, your scalp stinging as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Do y’fuckin understand that? She fuckin’ cried because of you. Cause you’re a fuckin’ shitty mother, that’s what you are.”

Thick tears fall down from your red eyes and you stumble back when he releases your hair, falling back as you trip on the heavy chain attached to your ankle. 

You fall butt-down, pain alastrating on your back but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even compare to the deep ache in your heart.

You also miss her. So much. It hurts that you haven’t seen your daughter in a week, kept in the basement as Tangerine lies about you being sick.  

“All she kept saying was how much she missed you. That she wanted you to feel better so she could finally see you. Fuck!”

“I…I’m so sorry.” you cry out. Tangerine only glares at you, nostrils flaring up. 

“This is all your fuckin’ fault. You just had to act smart, didn’t ya? Fucking’ hell.” his hand meets the wall with a loud bang and you wince, burying your face in your hands, frightened.

You’ve never seen him this angry before. Not even at the few times you tried to run away years ago. For once you’re actually glad that the basement is sound-proofed so that Claire doesn’t have to witness any of this. 

You messed up. Baldly. You should have known better than to plan an escape from Tangerine. 

But you were exhausted. Deeply tired of playing house with Tangerine. As much as you love your daughter but you want a better life. For yourself. For your sweet daughter. As much as you smile and laugh, pretending to be happy and in love with Tangerine for the sake of your daughter, you had reached your breaking point. 

“You're a selfish little’ bitch, only thinking ‘bout saving your own ass.” he snarls. 

You shake your head, desperate. 

“No! That’s not- She’s my daughter too.” 

Tangerine stares at you for what it seems forever and you hold your breath, watching him with a runny nose that you struggle to wipe with the back of your hand.

His hands on his hips as he considers you, neck veins bulging. He runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated as he exhales heavily.

“If you really love her, you gonna fuckin’ behave from now on. And I fuckin’ mean it. No more fuck up’s.” he warns you. 

Blinking away the tears, you nervously nod as he slowly walks towards you before stopping in front of you.

“Ya mean it, right? Then fuckin’ prove it cause you’re not leavin’ this basement without provin’ me that you can do better.” 

Confusion fills you until you see the look on Tangerine’s eyes. With shaky hands, you reach for his belt but he moves your hand towards his shirt and your heart drops. 

Not this. 

It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. You’re barely wet enough yet uncomfortably stretched by your husband’s cock as he slowly thrusts into you.

Given how angry he was, you were expecting him to fully rail you so you were surprised as he went at a slow, calm pace. Good for you.

His head is buried in your neck, low groans coming from him. It’s feel like an eternity as he fucks you gentle and deep till you lose track of time.

You suddenly hiss when his cock rams deep inside you, the thin old mattress softly squeaking under your combined weights. 

He pulls himself on his forearms, facing you as he starts to speed up, quickly slamming his hips forwards with a renewed force and you cry out, hands bawling the sheets. 

“S’ fucking’ tight, darling.” he husked, his sweaty curls falling to your face as he presses your foreheads together. “Gonn’ cum soon, fuck.”

His breathing halts as he fucks you vigorously, urgency in his thrusts. He doesn’t last longer, your velvety walls tightly squeezing his cock just the right way for him to approach his orgasm.

“Fuck, oh, fuck.” with a final harsh thrust, his body tenses up before finally relaxing. Tangerine releases a loud grunt, reaching his high while being balls deep inside you, his hands coming to grab your face as he connects your lips into a needy kiss, the bitter taste of cigarettes on him. 

When he lets you go, you release a shaky breath, feeling gross and violated with his cum beginning to leak. 

His nose touches yours, skin shiny with sweat and his blue eyes half-closed as he exhales, the warm breath hitting your face. He doesn’t seem that angry anymore, men really think with their dicks. 

“That was fuckin’ nice.” he smiles, his knuckles sweetly fawning over your cheek. “Maybe we should consider giving Claire a sibling. I think she’d love a baby brother.”

[sevasey51]

Hello love! Can you do an imagine of Connor’s wife having a super bad episode of POTS and having it lead to a seizure and freaking out Jay. Who was supposed to be watching her because she was feeling off, and Connor and Will had to work an important case?

When Everything Spirals

Summary: Y/N, already feeling off, convinces her husband Connor and brother Will to head to work for an important case, promising Jay she’ll take it easy at home. But her symptoms spiral into a severe POTS episode, triggering convulsive syncope that terrifies Jay. When Sylvie and Violet bring her into Med, she crashes again—twice. The aftermath leaves everyone shaken, especially her protective husband, Connor.

It started off with a heaviness in her limbs and a strange fog behind her eyes. Y/N knew the signs, the dull throb behind her eyes, the way her vision tunneled every time she stood for longer than thirty seconds. Something was off today—but she didn’t want to say anything. Not when Connor and Will were scheduled to assist on a high-risk cardio-thoracic case they’d been planning for weeks.

Jay had already picked up on her sluggishness that morning when he dropped by for coffee. He raised an eyebrow as she curled up on the couch with Charlie nestled by her legs and her water bottle untouched on the table.

“You okay, Bug?” he asked, crossing his arms and watching her closely.

“Just tired,” she whispered, giving him a weak smile. “I promise I’ll chill today.”

Jay reluctantly agreed to keep an eye on her. He’d taken the day off, knowing something was up, even if she hadn’t said it out loud.

But things unraveled fast.

By noon, Y/N tried standing to get a drink and never made it past the hallway. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. The room tilted. Her legs gave out. She crashed to her knees, hands trembling violently.

Jay ran to her the second he heard the thud. He found her slumped against the wall, trying to stay upright, her eyes wide and glossy, skin pale and clammy. She was barely responsive.

“Y/N!” he shouted, catching her just as her body jerked in a seizure-like convulsion. It wasn’t a true seizure—they’d learned that term later—convulsive syncope, a terrifying mix of a fainting episode with seizure-like activity due to her POTS.

Jay panicked. He tried grounding her, checking her airway, cradling her head, calling her name—none of it helped. He immediately dialed 911.

“Please—my sister—she has a heart condition or something—she’s not responding, she’s seizing—I don’t know what’s happening!”

Within minutes, Squad pulled up. Sylvie Brett and Violet rushed into the apartment and found Jay on the floor beside her, visibly shaken.

“She’s got a history of POTS,” he explained hurriedly. “She said she was dizzy earlier and just—collapsed.”

Y/N was pale, still semi-conscious but weak and uncoordinated. They loaded her onto the gurney, fitted her with oxygen, and applied the cardiac monitor.

Her blood pressure was low, heart rate erratic.

“She’s throwing PVCs,” Sylvie muttered, glancing at the screen. “We need to go.”

By the time they reached the ED, Will was already scrubbed out and rushing down with Connor, who hadn’t even waited to hear the full story before tearing off his scrub cap.

The sight of his wife being wheeled in on oxygen with IV lines already running, her limbs twitching subtly from post-syncopal tremors, made Connor’s heart stop.

“She’s had one already,” Violet briefed. “Jay said she seized up and dropped. GCS was fluctuating. We gave fluids, oxygen, and she responded but not well.”

Connor’s hand cupped her face the second they wheeled her into Trauma 2. “Sweetheart, I’m here,” he whispered, brushing her damp hair away from her face.

Will immediately began organizing orders—labs, ECG, CT if needed, even though they suspected it was another severe flare. Connor was more hands-on. He stayed by her side while April hung fluids and ensured the cardiac monitor stayed on.

Jay appeared in the doorway, pale and shaken. “She didn’t make a sound. She just—went down.”

“You did the right thing, Jay,” Will reassured him, voice calm but clipped with worry.

Connor reached across the bed to take her hand, just as her body jerked again—violent, uncoordinated, and terrifying.

“She’s seizing again!” Maggie called, running into the room.

Connor immediately leaned over, securing her airway and shielding her head. “This is convulsive syncope. Keep the airway open. Roll her.”

“Fluids still going?” Will asked quickly.

“Yep,” April confirmed. “She’s crashing—BP’s 80 over 40.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. “Get her on vasopressors. Now.”

They stabilized her after two more episodes. She was confused, exhausted, and unable to sit up without her vitals nosediving.

“We’re admitting her,” Connor said firmly. “And putting her on telemetry overnight.”

“She’s not going to love that,” Will noted, helping adjust the IV line.

“She can be mad all she wants,” Connor replied. “She scared the hell out of me.”

Later, as she dozed under dim lights, Charlie tucked next to her on the bed thanks to a very discreet visit from Jay, Connor stayed seated at her bedside, fingers laced with hers.

“I told you to call me if you didn’t feel right,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I didn’t want to pull you from surgery,” she murmured weakly, barely audible.

“I’d miss every surgery for the rest of my life if it meant keeping you safe.”

And he meant it.

Hey love thank you for request because of it I’m thinking of starting a mini series for it! What do you guys think? 🫶🏻

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Pieces Of The People We Love: Part 2

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter A Cadet Batch fic Word Count: Part 2 ~4300 words Read Here On AO3

Synopsis: Part 2: Crosshair, Wrecker and Tech are each the last of their respective batches, bonded by their unique upbringing as enhanced clones. The introduction of a new enhanced clone cadet threatens to upset that balance.

Author's Note:- I've been working hard on this story so thought I'd repost the earlier chapters in the weeks leading up to (hopefully!) finally finishing this fic! Have you been following the enhanced cadets journey so far? If this prompts you to re-read ahead of the final part of the story, I'd love to hear from you! I'm just trying to keep my motivation up! <3

5 years, 1 month (15)

“Bet I could do that if I practiced,” said Wrecker to Tech, when Crosshair completed yet another trick shot.

Crosshair snorted a soft laugh. “You couldn’t stay still enough.”

“Could too!”

Wrecker grabbed a firepuncher from the weapons rack and lined it up to the target. He hit the edge of the bullseye, but not the ultrafine reflector that Crosshair was using to ricochet his shots through multiple targets.

Crosshair stepped to the mark and rested his rifle on the blade of his shoulder pauldron. He took a breath, then let it out. At the bottom of the exhale, he fired.

The shot reflected and bounced around the series of mirrored pucks he had set up, just as it had the time before, and the time before that.

“Fine,” Wrecker scowled. “Bet I could at least stay still enough for you to make long shots off my shoulder!”

“You couldn’t.”

“I could an’ all! You used to do it with Deadeye, an’ you do it with Tech.”

Crosshair glanced at their third squad-mate, who shrugged.

“Tech knows how to stay still.”

“You’re jus’ scared you’ll miss,” said Wrecker. “I bet if you miss you’ll say it’s ‘cos of me.”

“It will be because of you,” said Crosshair flatly. “I don’t miss.”

“If yer that good, you’ll make the shot anyway.”

“I recommend you attempt the shot, Crosshair,” Tech chipped in. “Wrecker won’t be satisfied until you do.”

Crosshair made a dismissive noise and gestured to Tech to set up the long-range target. He waved Wrecker into position.

The big clone excitedly crouched in front of Crosshair, offering his shoulder. He grunted a little as Crosshair rested the rifle barrel on his right.

“Other side,” he requested. “My right’s still sore from earlier.”

Crosshair hesitated, then complied. He was used to using Tech’s right shoulder for this, but it shouldn’t make a difference.

“Target is ready,” said Tech, indicating a distant pinpoint on the far side of the arena.

Crosshair waited. And waited.

Wrecker fidgeted, then froze. He growled at Crosshair’s sly chuckle.

“What’s taking so long?” he groused.

“Waiting for our breathing to sync,” replied Crosshair. “Now shut up and let me concentrate…”

His left hand found Wrecker’s shoulder. He felt the rise and fall with each breath the big clone drew. His right hand steadied the rifle.

The world narrowed.

The distant target filled his vision.

He pulled the trigger.

A flash of light. A flare of heat. Metal shards lashing Crosshair’s hands, scoring his helmet.

A howl of pain.

Tech’s voice, distant.

“Medic!”

Enjoyed this preview? Find the rest of the fic on AO3! -> Pieces Of The People We Love

[sleepyficss]

taco (ii) x reader headcanons? general headcanons would be nice, although if you could include ones involving reader having a cutesy girly gender presentation + having BPD and NPD that would be even better. please and thank you :3

taco, bpd & npd headcanons!

taco x reader, fluff

authors note:

as my first actual request, thank you so much!! the fact that its for taco, too <33 i don't have either bpd nor npd myself, but i will try my hardest to make it accurate!! + by general, i wasn't sure whether you meant romantic or not, so i left it up in the air. could be read as either.

- written as post-ii season 2 in mind (so don't blame me if she seems inaccurate in a few episodes time lolol)

- taco has struggled a lot with her own relationships over the last few years, so the fact that you've gotten this close with her? she must really trust you.

- she's honestly terrified of you leaving her, considering the number of people who have done exactly that in the past (although, it hadn't been unwarranted...)

- swears to do whatever she can to keep you from leaving her, especially since you might be one of the very few people she has left.

- because of this, she completely understands it when you're afraid of the possibility of abandonment – but you learn to work through it together.

- she loves to remind you of how much you mean to her, that she wouldn't want you to be any different than the way you currently are <3

- the last thing she wants is for you to feel that you aren't good enough, or to have bad self-images of yourself.

- makes SURE that you know her opinion of you is highly regarded, that she loves you for you, no matter if you've had a bad week.

- taco has definitely picked up on any micro-expressions, or usually unseen habits you have that reveal the way you're feeling; especially for times that you struggle more to show those emotions.

- in turn, she's learned how to keep her own emotions in check. taco is a very grounded person, and knows how to keep calm in most situations, and will often be the one to sort out difficult situations that involve either, or both, of you.

- of course, she has her own triggers that may set her off. as long as you're there to remind her that she has you, and that the past is the past, and it can't be changed, she'll calm down enough to listen to you.

- she's a very patient person, and takes pride in understanding other people easily.

- if you're ever having a difficult day, or particularly bad 'flare-ups', taco understands not to always take any harsh words you say to heart. most of the time, she knows you don't really mean them anyways.

- she'll always wait for you to have calmed down to talk things through with you. trying to talk while hot-headed will only make things worse, she of all people knows that.

- at the end of the week, though, all she wants to do is sit down with you and relax.

- whether thats having sort of a parallel-play with each other (where she'll often read a book, or do some sort of puzzle, while you do your own activities), or you'll simply talk to each other for hours, about anything and everything.

- she's almost clingy herself, wanting to spend most of her free time with you when there's nothing else to do.

- taco isn't the type to admit it, but she enjoys seeing the outfits you come up with, complimenting you any chance she gets.

- if you ask her for ideas (in terms of what you should wear, what colour you should do your nails, etc), she'll be at a bit of a loss. she won't be much help in that department, you're better off giving her a few options to choose from, first.

- i can imagine you'd be able to convince her to match a bowtie to your outfit, though. you two would be the cutest !!

- if either of you have days where you feel almost too tired to get out of bed, the other will be happy to join in setting up the couch with blankets and pillows, and turning the television on to a show that both of you enjoy.

- taco just wants a cosy life, now that she's put her past 'plans' way behind her, and would be happy to spend every day with you.

[queenofbaws]

my oh my, long time no see!

hey folks, it's wednesday again, wouldn't you know it ;P i've been hosting family and friends the past couple weeks (hence the relative peace and quiet on my end), but i'm revving up those writing engines and getting back to it, believe you me!

however, the sleepy bitch disease™️ is winning today, so i'll keep the update short: i'm mostly working on hackett-based Things for the time being, so that's proooOOOOBABLY what you'll be seeing next from me. i'm tossing a sneak-peek of some like wringing blood under the cut, but like i said before, my plan for that is i want to have at LEAST two chapters done before i start posting again, so...it might just be a minute.

anyhow, as always, hope you're all doing well and finding reasons to smile, no matter how small 🫶 personally i'm still riding the high of getting to hang out with some of my besties irl instead of over these ding-dang screens of ours, so when you picture me at least, please imagine i'm floating on a cloud, cuz that's how it feels ;Pc

Instead of being open to the air like one might’ve expected, a pane of glass shut the booth off from the rest of the clearing. And he wasn’t terribly surprised to see Jack sitting on the other side of that glass.

Chris rapped on the pane with his knuckles, hoping to get him to look his way. Again, it wasn’t any shock when Jack kept on keeping on, his head tipped down as he scribbled away in one of his leather-bound journals, but it was annoying as all get-out. This was his hallucination, wasn’t it? His weird mental breakdown? The least Jack could do was respect that!

Behind the glass, the booth seemed to go back a bit too far to make sense. It could’ve been a trick of the light, or, more likely, another misfiring of his overtired mind, but the depth of the place seemed…off.

With a start, he noticed a flicker of movement from somewhere in the back. Chris frowned and cupped his hands to either side of his face as he leaned against the glass, peering inside to see what he could see, and at first there was nothing. Just Jack, sitting. Just his desk, covered in papers. Just the wolfdogs, curled up at his feet. Just—

Then, all at once, he saw the skulls.

They’d been mounted on the wall behind Jack’s desk, each set on a wooden plaque no different from the hunting trophies Pa hung in the stairway where they kept Aunt Susannah’s old piano, except…except no. That was wrong.

They were wrong.

He wanted to say they were human skulls, but the longer he looked at them, the more he realized that was simply because, well…he couldn’t call them anything else. Thing was, human skulls weren’t that big, and their jaws weren’t hinged that way. Their teeth didn’t jut out at angles like those, their eye sockets weren’t that shallow, and…and…

As if triggered by that thought, every skull on the back wall opened its eyes.

Something in Chris’s head snapped to the side, stinging like the crack of a rubber band pulled past its breaking point. This had to be a dream, whatever else it was; he couldn’t explain the reading or the burn of poison ivy at his ankles, but this had to be a dream, it had to be, because skulls didn’t have eyelids to open!

Skulls didn’t have eyes!

Yet there they were, bulbous and bulging out over cheekbones, smoky white globs of jelly threatening to burst against jagged ridges of bone. They were dead eyes, corpse eyes, unseeing and blind, and two by two they rolled towards him anyway, flaring with recognition and seething, murderous hatred.

“Jaaack…” he said slowly, the sound of his own voice discordant in his ears as it bounced off the glass. “Hey, Jack?” When he still wouldn’t look up at him, Chris tried tapping on the pane again.

And the skulls began to scream.

He didn’t hear it, told himself that logic worked fine in a dream, but he saw their jaws drop wide and he felt the glass vibrate against his hands, and every inch of his intestines turned to water as the ancient spot where his brain met his spinal cord recognized a threat it’d never fully forgotten.

Chris staggered back with a sharp intake of breath, and finally—finally!—Jack acknowledged him.

“No refunds,” he droned, sliding a ticket through a narrow slot in the glass he'd somehow missed before, the gesture strangely reminiscent of a movie theater cashier.

His hand moved without his brain’s permission, taking the slip he’d been given even as his mind reeled against the impossible silence of the screaming below Jack’s nasally voice. When he looked down, he saw it wasn’t a ticket at all, the thing he was holding, but a greasy old photograph from one of Ma’s albums: the one the kids had found, the one of all of them standing outside the lodge.

The one from the summer of ’93.

[giraffeshavefourstomachs]

What's the longest you've gone without eating?

I’m answering these together because ultimately they come down to the same answer:

The longest I can go without eating anything at all is actually not that long, it’s probably just over 24hrs. And that’s still drinking water at least, even if I’m fasting, I’m still going to be relatively safe about it.

I have to turn my fast into more of a limitation of food than a true fast for two reasons:

1. I have two fairly physical jobs - dance teaching (and my own dancing) and I work a retail job that requires me to lift things, carry things, climb ladders a lot.

2. I have acid reflux, it’s usually pretty controlled and I am on two different medications for it, but one thing in particular that triggers it quite badly is my stomach being empty for long stretches of time. It makes my reflux flare, which often makes me feel a bit sick and gives me these funny acidy hiccup-burps which I can feel all up through my sinuses and ear canal if it’s really bad.

Sorry, long rant. And I appreciate the Anon’s encouragement, but I can’t do 7 days, even just on minimal food. Currently, I’ve been doing 3 days, but maybe if I had a week off?

Anyway, I appreciate all the love I’ve been receiving since starting this little sideblog, but Imma keep doing it the way I’ve been doing it.

Hope you enjoy listening to my noisy little tummy (and hey, if I win the lottery, maybe I’ll be able to do a 7 day stretch)

C xx

[impressive-imperfection]

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Every time I think I have a handle on life, life proves that I, in fact, know nothing about anything.

Still, I try.

My current goal is to manage my fibro flare well enough to start working out again. When I was in remission I lost 100 pounds and got healthier than I’d ever been and I was working out 5 days a week.

Granted my idea of working out is putting on my VR headset and slicing beats with my saber.

It was fun and I worked up a sweat…and I miss it.

(I never felt that way about a Stairmaster)

Unfortunately, stress quadrupled (as it does in life), and I started gaining weight here and there, but overall I was still okay.

Then more stress triggered a flare. As it worsened, I started experiencing headaches and migraines 24-48 hours after working out. So, I started spreading out the workouts to manage it…until I had to stop all together because on top of headaches, the fatigue kicked in and the migraines became more constant. Then came the joint & hand/wrists & feet/ankle pain.

So I haven’t been able to workout with any regularity, and I’ve gained more weight. The gravity of it all has caused an emotional roller coaster that’s dipping really close to Depression Land, which I have no interest in visiting.

Long story short, with my fibro diagnosis along with the ADHD/ASD diagnosis, I’m now on meds which help. The meds don’t take the pain away, but they take the edge off, so I’m trying to put exercise back in. The dopamine from exercise can help feed my ADHD brain, help lose the weight I’ve gained, and help keep me from stopping in Depression Land.

I did 15 mins of Beat Saber on Monday and so far the pain is manageable. I’ll see how I feel tomorrow and decide if I want to try another 15 mins or maybe switch it up and do some yoga.

What exercise can you manage while in flare?

[oomox-oclock]

0. There Was A Time

fic chapters/warnings/disclaimers/ect

:DISCLAIMER:

Mentions of drugs/ sex ect.

English is not my first language

POV changes

x reader

inconsistent updates

time line is not perfect or accurate

Character may also not be accurate

I'll also be posting this on wattpad and maybe ao3

So if you see it wasn't stolen<3

Also i dont know how tumblr works and how to link chapters together(someone send help)

ALSO THIS NOT EDITED IN ANYWAY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES

THANK YOU FOR READING MWUAH MWUAH

LEAVE COMMENTS <3

The studio was warm in the coldest night of this Autumn, warm yellowish light and the red carpeted floor made it feel like a cosy log cabin. A full drum set with a few too many ride cymbals and windchimes sat close to the middle of the fat bare bricked wall, with a small metal bucket that had the remains of broken splinter drumsticks. A rack of guitars and two bass holders stood next to the right wall where an old armchair sits, a few different sized amps scattered round the square room. Right in front of the glass that separates the control room from the studio three mic stand in a line with noise cancelling boxes surrounding each of them.

In the control room there is a strong smell of weed and other smokeable herbs, "No! You can't take Runaway Blues off the album!" A man with short shoulder length brown hair and a moustache protested as he puffed on his cigarette as he lied back on the couch, his dark glasses fell back on his face as he tilted his head back. "I agree with Jake. It shows how good we are even when we're shit faced." The man with long curly hair, a gorgeous ethnic nose, stood up – towering over the other 4 people in the sesh – and began to roll another blunt on one of the control panels. The one that started this debated piped in, "Thanks Dan for taking my side." He said sarcastically, his curly mullet was like a solid cloud on his head, and he has a moustache like Jake. "We'll our wonderful manager and producer here," A man that looked like Jesus pointed to a woman that sat next to Jake on the couch. "Was the one that wasn't shit faced, I think that's why it was actually good, Joshua." He finished. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying it's shit because of you, please believe me y/n!" Josh dramatically pleaded to y/n. She was looking up at the ceiling. Pupils dilated. Blunt in hand. "Just, make it shorter." She said confidently, waving her hand a bit. Still not looking at anyone and head craned back. "You have the answer to everything." Danny said his mouth slightly gaped that such a simple solution didn't register in any of their minds. Or he's just on a psychedelic trip and can't spark up a brain cell.

The following week the band had dates in LA since they were still doing there 'Dreams in Gold' Tour. The band was already at the venue setting up, some still sleeping in the bus. Y/n had some business to attend to in their studio in New York before going down to LA. She decided to walk down the infamous Sunset Strip, as a historic music place like this could not go untrekked when having the chance. Wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue flare jeans with dark brown boots and a satchel bag hanging from her shoulder, a small suitcase's handle in the other hand while the silver case dragged its wheels on the floor. As she caught the sight of the colourful sign of The Rainbow, a voice called to her. "Y/n?" A older man, short blondish hair, leather jacket, sunglasses.

Axl Rose.

And like the trigger of a gun being pulled,

A life was lost.

(or misplaced)

Y/n's POV:

Everything stood still,

I stood still.

Then it all went dark. It was a black lifeless void.

Falling backwards but being physically still.

Time was reversing.

A previous life. My life?

Memories rolling past like an old film.

My head spiralled.

I can't comprehend this. What is happening to me?

My first years of school, late 60's early 70's. That's not right. It was the early 2000's.

Falling in love with music, Queen, Elton John.

Highschool was trip. My parents being stricter than anyone else's, they didn't believe I could have a job as in the music industry.

Studying music in college then going on the Uni and taking a science course to get my folks off my back.

One of my most successful record deals was Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi.

Before they even started writing lyrics for their songs, I knew it off by heart and helped them gain success with it and recording went like dream.

Now I was searching the East Coast for a new band to sign.

March 1985, The City of Angels.

A flash of light, and my eyes flickered open.

It a cold night, dark but the city light was somewhat comforting.

It was the Sunset Strip, but something was...

Off.

------------

OMG SORRY IF IT'S SHIT

THIS WAS LIKE THE INTRODUCTION, FIRST PART IS COMING OUT SOON 

IM SO EXCITED

(Band at the beginning is greta van fleet )

[leasnewsletter]

6/1-2025

Dear whomsoever it may, or may not concern,

I thought my holiday was over. 'Twas not. I am writing this from the safety of my home, after we just spent almost 2 hours driving to the airport and back again. There and back again: by Lea Baggins. I just gave my cats dinner, and I'm trying to channel my inner Dua Lipa, who I am sure would be more than happy for a change to her travel plans (#radicaloptimism), and I really am, because I nearly cried when I left earlier, not feeling ready to leave yet, which is crazy because my holiday has been almost 3 weeks long. But...

Where do I begin? Like for so many others, home is complicated. I'll try and condense it a little. My parents divorced in 2020 (if you paid attention to my first entry, this lore has already been dropped), and it's been harder on my mum than my dad. She had just been diagnosed with stress at the time, and it's really been affecting her memory, which is deeply disturbing when it flares up. My dad was the breadwinner, because he's a pilot and he was away half the time and home the other half when we were kids, which meant that my mom had a part time job. My mom was not making nearly enough money to make ends meet post-divorce, and that meant going back to work before she was ready... which as you can imagine is not ideal... when you're diagnosed with stress. The divorce was for the better, but it's been hard to watch her struggle. I'm the oldest daughter and the need to fight all her battles is strong, but I don't always have all the tools to do so... and it makes me sad. My mother quit her job last year (this was good, they were fucking assholes), and is retraining to become a caretaker for senior citizens, who are entering their last stages of life. She's a champion. My mother is so strong, and I love her so deeply, even when it hurts.

Anyway, the reason we had to trauma dump there, is because three nights ago, I dreamt that she had heart problems of some sort (dreams, not very specific) and I kept urging her to sign up for a heart donation, but she kept just shaking me off... and it was so deeply disturbing for me, because I couldn't bear the thought of losing her, but it felt like she was just willing to go... and that just kinda set the tone for that day.

My mother, brother, and I went to see my grandparents on my dad's side that day, which is always an experience, because it can kinda go either way. You can laugh, or you can cry because your grandfather just triggered your eating disorder (#justgirlythings). My dad's youngest brother showed up, and we all just ended up making up theories about what happened to that lost Malaysian airplane... don't ask why.

The thing about my granddad is that we all spent our childhood being mostly terrified of him. He was a police officer, who had four sons, who I don't think always knew that he loved them, and a very explosive, toxic and turbulent relationship with my dad's biological mum, who none of us see anymore. Now however! He kinda old-fashioned and stuck in his way, but he loves a good debate... and that I can give him.

While I was trying to enjoy some time off before going back to London, the dream and the family gathering kinda meant I just didn't wanna talk about how I was feeling that day.

The next night I dreamt I was friends with Bella Hadid. So I totally could invite Bella Hadid to my party.

Yesterday was meant to be my last day, so I went to a nearby city to spend it with my sister, who I haven't actually seen nearly enough the past three weeks, so I again tried to make the most of the time I had left before going back.

She took me to see 'Better Man', which I had worked on... sometime between a year and 2 years ago, I think? (Time flies). At no point during that night shoot had anyone informed anyone that Robbie Williams would be a monkey, so I was deeply confused when the trailer was sprung on me, but man... that was a MOVIE. I don't know why I was surprised, but I was.

We had a really good day... and I really missed her, which feels crazy to say because she's right there, but we're all so bad at communicating our feelings, and sometimes I feel like my whole family are standing on different cliffs, and none of us can bridge the gaps because we're not saying what we really feel. I used to think I was good at saying how I felt, but I'm not so sure anymore.

Anyway, the dots are hopefully connecting for you, and you can sense why I would have big complicated feelings about leaving. Yay because staying at home with cats and family is great, nay because of problems I can't just solve.

COMPLETELY UNRELATED, BECAUSE I SIMPLY CANNOT TRAUMA DUMP FOR ANOTHER MOMENT WITHOUT DEPRESSING MYSELF FURTHER, SO HERE I THINGS I WOULD HAVE TWEETED IN THE PAST 24 HOURS, IF I STILL HAD TWITTER: - Sebastian Stan won a golden globe (!!!) and it's so well deserved. Truly one of the greatest working actors at the moment. - I woke up last night because Radagast (one of my cats, my best friend really) kept yapping, and then my brain started pitching a tiktok series about my cats, where I would dress up as them and then put words to the feelings they're very clearly (to me, anyway) expressing. - Why is everyone putting 'Dancing through life' on their happy montages as if that isn't a song about disassociating and being depressed?

Okay, guys I'm going to stop here, mostly because this was super depressing. Not even pretend tweets could make it funnier. Good news though, my friend sent me a screenshot of ClubChalamet's latest tweet, where she had found what is probably the only photo sans Kylie Jenner from the whole night. She is such a dedicated hater, I must respect it. Looking at the length of this, I won't edit it until tomorrow, so read this unedited mess. Lots of Lea (Yes, this is what I initially typed, so we're sticking with it), Love.

[therealfailwhale]

Had my very first pain-related breakdown last night.

Backstory (hah): In 2020, after no glaringly obvious trigger, a spot in my lower spine felt like it cracked. I spent the next week on the floor. When I went to a chiro two weeks later, they suggested I sprained or tore a ligament. When I went to the doctor a week after that, they were clearly skeptical about the chiro’s disgnosis. After some tests and PT, they decided I had weak core muscles, sciatica, and scoliosis, and that was that.

I’ve had sporadic issues ever since, though never at the same level.

Yesterday, after a week of on and off debilitating back pain, I went to the doctor. When I woke up yesterday morning, my pain was at a 7. I didn’t go to work, stayed on a heating pad for hours, took ibuprofen. By the time I got to the doctor my pain had dropped to a 2-3. After talking to the doc and doing what felt like a shit job explaining my experiences, I was told I must have aggravated something because of my scoliosis (which was initially determined to be mild, btw) and to go home and take more ibuprofen, and maybe go see a PT. When I reiterated the fact that I’d been having pain at a 6 or 7, they offered a round of steroids and I went on my way.

My breakdown last night came because I feel like an imposter. I go to the doctor and feel as if they don’t believe the seriousness of what I’m telling them. At work, I try not to show when I’m in pain, which of course makes me feel as though I’m leading all my colleagues to believe I’m healthy and hale, so when I tell them I have back problems they don’t believe me (and maybe they do, but my brain feels like they don’t). When I have to miss work I feel like my boss and coworkers think I’m making a big deal out of nothing. And that’s just my brain projecting what is probably some childhood shit, but it doesn’t change that I don’t always believe in the reality of my own pain. I can’t stand or walk for more than an hour without hurting. I can no longer go on hikes with my fiance, can’t commit to shopping with her because who knows how long my back will hold up. If I sit too long in the wrong type of chair, I get a flare. All of these things are true, but I push myself because some part of me feels like, because other people perceive me as healthy, I can’t respect what I know are my limits. Otherwise they’ll think I’m, I don’t know, being weak or complaining too much.

My fiance is extremely conscientious about my pain. She constantly makes sure that I’m not pushing myself too hard, she makes sure I take pain meds. But even with her there’s a small part of me that feels the need to push through and be “normal.”

So yeah. Had a breakdown. Cried. Today I’ll start the round of steroids and go back to work. Carry on like normal, and strengthen my fucking core. Because that’s all that’s wrong with me after all.

[rampents]

| zendaya & she/her | Welcome to the crossroads, CATIE CATCHER. Another lost soul that stumbled across a fallen tree in their path. They appear to be 25 years old, but it’s hard to tell. The town bares no resemblance to LOS ANGELES, are you sure we can trust them? Seeing as they ended up here because, SHE WENT TRAVELLING TO GET AWAY. They definitely weren’t looking to end up here. Now they’ll have to rely on being CONFIDENT to survive. Hopefully their HOTHEADED doesn’t get in the way of that. I guess if we’re going to pass the time tonight, might as well request THE PHANTOM BUZZ by DECLAN MCKENNA. Oh, and one more thing, your new role here will be STORE CLERK. We’ll be sending out welcoming party over to the MOTEL. Welcome to Oblitus, the only thing you have to remember, when the sun sets– don’t open the door.

Born into Hollywood, Catie’s life was orchestrated by her parents: her father, an unsuccessful actor, thrust her into the spotlight, seeing her as his last chance at fame.Her mother, a well-known director, supported this to appease her father, grateful that it stopped his endless complaints about his career.From a young age, Catie learned to mask her feelings; any resistance to her parents' plans led to her father calling her ungrateful, forcing her to perform a “perfect daughter” act.

As Catie got older, her anger grew sharper. She tried to push it down, and it came out in other ways: outbursts on set, arguments with fellow cast members, and eventually, an attitude problem that branded her as “difficult.” When directors or producers gave her orders that felt too controlling, she’d snap. Despite her struggles, Catie became a recognisable child actress, starring in several TV shows and movies. However, by the age of 20, she could no longer endure the demands of her career and decided to disappear from the industry.

She fled to London, wanting a fresh start. Catie dabbled in teaching an acting class, but her lack of passion (and talent for that matter) for the craft rendered her ineffective as a teacher. She also tried her hand at writing, producing a debut book that fictionalised her childhood in the industry. She attempted painting, but her works lacked depth. She ventured into photography, only to find her skills were mediocre at best. Graphic design, jewellery making, and even a brief stint as a musician followed, but none of these pursuits worked out. Each new venture would start with excitement, but as soon as things got tough or she faced criticism, her frustration would turn to rage, and she’d quit before she could "fail."

Defeated, embarrassed, Catie relocated to Manchester, hoping to carve out a more conventional life away from her past. While the book garnered some attention, it wasn’t actually all that good and she stopped doing that too.

In Manchester, it seemed manageable for a while, but with her father back in her life, her old triggers flared up. His attempts to control her life, combined with his sense of entitlement to her inheritance, stoked her anger again, yet she couldn’t bring herself to confront him outright. Instead, Catie’s anger came out in bursts: shouting at strangers, smashing dishes, leaving situations abruptly. Her impulse to keep running—to leave her anger and the people triggering it behind—was strong. She decided to take off travelling. Despite her first trip being to Brazil, she finds herself in a deceptively American town. Welcome to Oblitus!

- how did they find the tree that led them here? what were they doing?

Catie was drifting from town to town with no particular plan. After a few weeks in Brazil, she booked a budget bus ticket to a coastal town. Somewhere along the route, the bus took a detour. While most passengers seemed unbothered, Catie grew restless. The landscape felt disorientingly wrong—dense forests pressing in on both sides of the road, with no sign of towns or rest stops. After hours on this unfamiliar route, the bus finally halted at a strange wooded clearing. They’d stopped to help someone change a flat tire. Impatient and wanting to stretch her legs, Catie wandered off into the trees.

She spotted an enormous old oak tree, its roots coiled and twisted, partially rising from the earth as though inviting her to step closer. She reached out, touching the bark—and suddenly felt a rush, almost like a sharp tug. She stumbled forward, losing her footing. When she straightened and looked around, the forest seemed different—too quiet, too dense. She looked back for the bus, but it was gone, replaced by eerie silence.

- describe your character’s first day/night in town? 

Catie's first day in the town is surreal, unsettling. When she first stepped out of the trees and into the heart of the town, it was too unbelievably quiet. The buildings look worn, faded, as if they hadn’t been touched for years. As she wanders the streets, Catie feels like she‘s walking through the set of an abandoned movie.

She eventually comes across a group of people gathered in what looked like a town centre. Relieved to see anyone, she approaches, half-expecting them to recognize her from her old acting days. Instead, the townsfolk just exchanged wary glances. She asks the way out of town but is met with, ‘There is no way out.’

She laughs, assuming they’re trying to scare her. But as the day wears on, the reality begins to sink in. She wanders the roads, trying to find a path back to the tree where she had first arrived, but each attempt leads her back into the town. Frustrated and confused, her anger starts to bubble up. She confronts a few people, demanding answers, but they just look at her with pity and fear.

[technicianuprisingau]

Kirbtober 2024 Companion Pieces - Week Two

A companion lore piece to the ongoing Kirbtober, using the list by @paintpanic. You can see the full art collection for this week here.

Day 7: Copy Ability

The Animal Copy Ability. What a funny little thing. Anyone that possessed this ability is guaranteed to act as if they are a very cheerful dog with a bit of a digging obsession. Aw.

I would like to say in preface that this ability DOES exist in Forgotten Land in this AU... it's just due to how the Technician ability functions, Kirby has been much used to inhale weapons and attacks rather than people. So in the end, Animal ends up being barely used, because uh. No inhaling the animals. Inhale guns instead.

Also, I asked anyone in this one server to recommend me an ability to draw for this prompt, first come first served, and someone just snatched in and said Animal like. 5 seconds later. Lmao.

Day 8: Phantom

Guess who doesn't have an idea what to do with this prompt because she is tired and absolutely not touching the Phantom counterparts from FL? It's me. Yeah, that's me. So instead, here's the Ghost ability.

Anyone holding this ability seems to be a mischievous bastard who likes scaring people off. Like, you know the whole ghosts pranking people thing. Yeah. That's it, that's all there is to it.

Day 9: Magic

A mage with endless curiosity can be seen walking through libraries and towers to learn magical spells. They are a master of magic, mana, and its surrounding topics. Traveling through far away lands to satiate their thirst of knowledge, they will keep and even share what they find to those who deserve it.

Flare Beam is one of the known existing 5 Super Abilities, created via the Fallen Star. When the star is restored, it overrides the user's personality to that akin of a curious mage with a little obsession to learning and sharing their knowledge of magic, who can instantly learn any spells as long as correct instructions are given. Otherwise, the typical 'summon massive orb of magic' shtick stays intact.

Its skills are as follows:

Sparkling Swish - swipes the staff in front of a target, blinding them with sparkles for a few seconds.

Hocus Sphere - charges up before creating a large ball made of magic. The ball can be controlled by the user's staff by moving it around. It will slowly shrink and dissipate overtime.

Pocus Disperse - only can be used on a magic attack. This spell will dissipate any magic attack property, including Hocus Sphere itself. There are many ways for the dissipation to work depending on the spell type, for example long beams will split into two before disappearing harmlessly, balls of magic will explode on spot, and so on and so forth.

Innate Mastering - requires a guide of a spell. Lets the user to instantly master that spell to use as long as this super ability is active. Once the super ability fades, the user will forget how the spell works. The learned spells from one session of the super ability in use DOES NOT carry over to the next.

Flow Recollection - restores ones' mana/energy at half of their capacity, rounded up. Has a cooldown.

Day 10: Mechanical

So... yes, the Technician ability is supposed to be a Kamen Rider tribute of sorts? This is why it starts with Kirby posing like Kamen Rider Ichigo.

But wait... Robobot Armor is there too? You see, this guy has, in the words of another RP server, a 'repressed whimsy'. I can imagine Robobot quietly and discreetly copying the henshin sequence, at least before the transformation scene triggers. So uhm. Haha. Lol. Lmao. Of course, they do not want to admit they liked it too. To keep up a facade of a strong, no-nonsense defender. F•cking nerd.

This is just an illustration, really, so. Eh.

Day 11: OC/Fav Character

Have drawn Kirby a lot and Robobot Armor just the day before, I believe it is time for Bandee to get his due, too. I always thought that the reason waddle dees have cloths tied to their spear is to ease identification and just because it looks cool.

Apparently these are made of special material, but no one really had the guts to uncover the secrets of it.

Day 12: Clone/Copy

Just a showcase on how Kirby does copy ability scanning. The scanner's the goggles instead! What, you think the goggles do absolutely nothing? Lol nope!

Day 13: Spin-Off

...you can tell I had to rush this one... Hello ibispaint my old friend. All you have to know is that not all spin-offs are not canon in Technician Uprising - I have planned some to be properly canon with changes. So let this be public knowledge that Rainbow Curse IS canon in TU.

[vampiremourning]

oh im gonna hsdgfjk

okay so three+ months ago i discovered I had a Fun Condition called perioral dermatitis. basically, just this Extraordinarily persistent face rash that looks like a bunch of small pustules in a circle around my mouth, but it also went around my nose and eyes. reacts to literally fucking Everything, deeply annoying to treat, even with antibiotics it takes weeks but usually months to clear. causes are ?? can be anything from inhaled steroids, face cream, toothpaste, hormones, etc. basically impossible to pinpoint. i have some guesses about what triggered it but ofc no real way to know for sure.

i go on 90 days of antibiotics. cool, whatever, condition dissipates but doesn't go away entirely. i think nothing of this bc I know even With oral antibiotics, it can still take months.

halfway through this treatment i develop arthritic symptoms. i also think nothing of this bc I have Some sort of illness undiagnosed anyway + family members have it so while I am definitely not happy w this development, I'm resigned.

i finish the pills.

less than 24 hours later, dermatitis has Returned. i know that allowing this to happen makes it worse and last longer. i cannot stress enough how bad it will be for my mental health if this happens. yes this probably sounds overly dramatic but I'm pretty sure watching my face flare up in any way is a legitimate trigger atp after dealing with cystic acne.

anyway. i book an appointment with my gp bc the pharmacist cannot refill the antibiotics. great except the appointment is at the End Of The Month, and I know this is going to be bad in a few days time. like, in the last few hours the inflammation has already accelerated, who knows how bad it'll be then, I'm assuming it'll be like I never even took the pills to start with. i am going to have a nervous breakdown.

mysteriously, the arthritis symptoms have Also started to decrease after stopping the antibiotics. that's weird, I think, that wasn't brought up in the list of side effects when I asked, but the timing is literally exactly when my face started flaring up so I know I definitely don't have those in my system anymore. i look this up, to see if there's a link.

'''acute polyarthritis''' also described as 'drug-induced lupus' are you Fucking Kidding Me

so i am now back as Square Fucking one for this shit, my skin is about to be so goddamn inflamed & I apparently can't even take the drug that was working to clear it up. because it causes inflammation in my joints.

and like i cant really express properly how mad this makes me lmfao because of Course. i spend a solid year on Accutane finally after being deterred for nearly a decade, i get maybe 4 months of enjoying my skin after I'm off of it and then This Shit. can i win?? can i Fucking win??????? no one else in my genepool seems to deal with this shit its just me and ohhh my god i am This close to walking straight into the ocean.

[warden-melli]

Not pokemon related but fuck these last few years have been tough. Been trying to distract myself all night but I think I need to vent for a sec

Trigger warning after the cut

I don’t want to get into details, but my uncle killed himself this morning. I knew something was wrong straight away when my mother randomly turned up with that look on her face. My grandmother was diagnosed with dementia last year, and my grandfather is in kidney failure, so at first I thought something bad and happened to them, but no. It was my uncle.

I spent a lot of today with my dad. My uncle was his little brother, and quite frankly as sad as I am for what happened to my uncle, I’m most worried about my dad right now. Not only did he lose both his father and older sister within the last year or so, but he’s been in pretty poor health himself. He was involved in an accident at work earlier this year involving a chainsaw, and honestly he’s lucky to be alive. PPE did it’s job, but even so he still ended up losing a tooth, and he’s had to have dental/implant surgeries to repair the damage. The last few weeks he’s also been extremely ill having caught Ross River fever from a job site. I have never seen him this sick in my entire life, and it has been extremely distressing seeing him in so much pain. He’s recovering from being sick, but he’s had an absolutely terrible run of luck, and that’s not even all of it. His best friend/brother in law has lung cancer, his sister just had a heart attack after contracting covid, and another of his sisters was just in a major car accident (he’s one of 10 kids btw). Also his pet budgie died last week. I feel horrible for him and I wish I could do something to make it better.

The last few weeks have been really tough. I broke my wisdom tooth, and because I am really bad at telling if/where I’m in pain I kinda tried to live with an exposed nerve for a few weeks before realising that it was serious. I knew something was wrong, but I have tmjd so I just kinda thought it was a chronic pain flare up at first. Like a really bad one, but I tried to ignore it. I had the back of my knee tattooed while dealing with a cracked wisdom tooth oof. After I figured out it wasn’t going to go away I eventually went to the dentist and had it extracted, but that was really hard for me to deal with. I was happy that the sharp pain had gone, but my jaw has been extremely sore since, and I really struggled sensory wise during the healing period. Then I broke my guitar and my fridge broke, so that’s over $1000 on top of the dental bills -_-

Idk life feels really hard lately. Haven’t been able to draw much, and have just been feeling flat in general. And now my uncle has passed and I just feel terrible. I’ll be okay. My sister is due to have a baby within weeks, and I’ve got some good concerts to look forward to, so it’s not all bad. One of my little sisters has been a twenty one pilots fan since she was literally an infant, and she’s finally old enough to see them live and I was able to get her really good tickets. She’s autistic too and has been working on her outfit and making stickers, and every time I see her that’s all she can talk about. I’m so happy for her and that I get to take her. There is good stuff, and good people and as silly as it sounds Melli/Pokemon really helps. He’s so so special to me. I’m glad I have him to focus on

I just needed to get stuff off of my chest, so if you’ve made it this far thanks for listening. Even if no one reads this just typing it out made me feel a bit better. May be a bit less active for a while, might be way more active. Idk how my brain wants to handle this lol

[newhologram]

This week was the last session with my therapist. She’s moving on to a new gig and I wish her the best. But boy, am I gonna miss her. Best therapist I’ve ever had, so easy to talk to and always eager to understand my world. Great smile and laugh, like talking to a fun friend. She always loved seeing my cats on the webcam.

I sought out therapy again in 2021 after a massive destabilizing cPTSD relapse which was triggered and worsened by ongoing abuse from family and the revelation that it was still happening to the new generation. Seeing adults refuse to speak up to protect children, knowing they are being actively harmed, in order to “keep the peace” in a family system is a huge trigger. Children are not sacrificial lambs to uphold the false image of a happy family.

Even though I’d come so far doing intense trauma work on my own for nearly a decade before seeing her, and I knew basically all the psych things already, she helped me take it deeper to dig up what I couldn’t quite reach. It was also good timing to have her because my endo flares became severe and my pain and level of disability was very high from 2021-early 2023. Several doctor appointments a week, many ER trips, 2 hospitalizations, and constant fighting with insurance also put me in a fragile and hopeless place, so having her support and perspective was really important. She was also there to help me process my frequent vivid dreams/nightmares, the deep dives of ketamine therapy, and messages from the stars and cards. Get a therapist who loves symbolism and archetypes as much as you do, it’s fun. I had a notebook just for my OWN therapy notes to talk to her about. Just in the past 3 months I had a lot of breakthroughs. Still a work in progress, but I like getting my hands dirty.

It was an emotional goodbye and she’s sad she won’t hear any updates about my surgery or other areas in my life. Though I’m sad, I’m also feeling good about this change. The office called to set me up with a new therapist, but I’m going to hold off for now. Partly because I just don’t have it in me to catch a whole new person up on my crazy life - but also because I want to just take this little nudge and see how things go. If I struggle after surgery, I can always call and get set up again easily. 

I got lucky with her and I acknowledge that it can take trying over and over to find a good match, but if you have the means, therapy can be really great even just for having another perspective on things. Nothing you’re going through is too big or small.