#ooc | kells speaks

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( HELLO LOVES!! I am tentatively coming back! ))

So things have been happening a fair bit. My own health hasn't improved any, in fact I currently have another chest infection, but I spent last week at the seaside enjoying a last little summer heat wave and it was just lovely.

We're still in the temporary flat, but it's looking like it might only be a couple of weeks until our own is sorted and we can move back, though I've got mixed feelings about that at the moment.

Things with Mum are okay-ish. After 7 and a half years(!) she finally has a fully official epilepsy diagnosis, from her neurology team. They've upped her seizure meds a little bit, though that hasn't made a whole lot of difference yet but they're probably going to keep upping it until they get the right level. She has a CT scan next week (postponed from a few weeks ago) a brain wave test the week after, and an MRI appointment incoming. Her memory problems are still getting worse, and she still needs a lot of looking after, but that's just our life now.

As far as things here go, I plan to work my way back into things slowly. I haven't written anything in way too long, and haven't even opened tumblr since I last checked in here. I'm probably going to make a few changes to the muse list, maybe dropping some muses that I don't really use that much anyway. I'll pick up some of my current threads, but I also think a new starter call is probably a good idea. Or some memes, to get the muses warmed up again.

I'll likely be cleaning out my following list as well, if we weren't already writing together before my little impromptu hiatus I'll probably be soft blocking you, just for my comfort.

I can't promise to be around every day, but for now I can aim for at least a couple of times a week.

And if you've actually read all this lol I love and appreciate you all so much. Thank you for your patience and understanding <3

Now, have a couple of pictures - first, my fluffy son.

Second - some seagulls on the beach last week

[apocketfullofmuses]

etcor​:

Not so gentle reminder, Melinda is that sibling that will give you the shovel talk and if you cheat on her brothers or sisters, she will punch you in the face.    Just ask @apocketfullofmuses ‘s Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

(( It’s true, she smacked them both in the face and they deserved it. ))

[loremastcr]

Myself: ‘So, what productive thing have you done for your blog today?’ Me: Myself: ‘...well what were you doing all this time.’ Me: Me: uh

{ @dyadshared​ }

[bountychild]

          tag drop !!

━━ ♡  in character.

━━ ♡  little womp rat.  [ visage ]

━━ ♡  guardian.  [ din djarin ]

━━ ♡  storyteller.  [ kell linah  /  loremastcr ]

━━ ♡  a clan of two.  [ the child & din ]

━━ ♡  she’s a friend.  [ cara dune ]

━━ ♡  do the magic hand thing!  [ greef karga ] 

━━ ♡  to nurse and protect.  [ ig-11 ] 

━━ ♡  likes.  

━━ ♡  musings.

━━ ♡  memes.

━━ ♡  headcanons.

━━ ♡  sky speaks.  [ ooc ]

━━ ♡  starter call.  [ mutuals only ]

━━ ♡  self promotion. 

━━ ♡  promotion.

[kellsxbells]

Ah Miss Kells, i'm not sure if you've known about my existence before but I wanted to stop by and let you know just this simple thing. I believe that you are a wonderful being and I hope whatever that has been bothering you passes without any troubles. (Goes to you mun also!)

Well, I... thank you. That is very kind of you to say. I fear it shan’t pass so easily, but, I suppose it is only a matter of time.

(( thank you!!

[apocketfullofmuses]

Multimuse blog: I have a shit ton of muses! No more!

Multimuse: *makes new muses*

Multimuse: DAMN IT!

[angrylizardjacket]

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡 

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over. 

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen. 

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really? 

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown. 

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties. 

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending. 

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation. 

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public. 

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album. 

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was. 

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone. 

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong. 

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired. 

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room. 

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness. 

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back. 

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss. 

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time. 

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter. 

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop. 

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head. 

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed. 

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him. 

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too. 

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

[kellachfromthewoods]

So you want to know more about Kell’s captor

(The following information is all OOC - Mainly because I might need some holes prodded into the backstory even though it’s quite simple)

He is an ancient Roegadyn Black Wizard named Obsidian Goose, and yes, the disctinction is important to him. He considers the fools who follow Thaumaturgy and Shatotto’s Black Magic as ignorant to the truth of the world, and instead uses the “32 Black Words of Power” which have similar effects to thaumaturgy/black magic yet typically manifest as a beam and an explosion for direct spells, or instant results for indirect spells.

To him, they are a long lost tradition that stems from the 1st Umbral Era, introduced to him after painstakingly long research, and a bit of a benefactor (namely, an unjoined Ascian in disguise, trying to stir trouble because reasons) who helped steer his thirst for knowledge into the unknown. He has a large disdain for the Allagan Empire and its legacy on the world for obscuring scholars’ studies as many dare not delve into the depths he has.

He is extremely old and rarely seen outside of his cave, those who know of him share a rumor that he has spent at least a hundred namedays, yet anyone looking into his background would find that he’s often changed the first part of his name. If one were to investigate the Hellsguard mountains, they’d find a small village with a legend that one of their own betrayed the village and cursed them, named Black Goose. Other records would show Dark Goose, Jet Goose, Onyx Goose and ultimately, Obsidian Goose.

Part of the reason why he even agreed to the Garleans’ request is that they hinted at Kellach’s Allagan ancestry and gave him an important tip about a tablet that, while it hails from the fairly recent Fifth Astral Era, seems to have given him an inkling about locating another world.

Surprisingly enough, Obsidian Goose is not a cold hearted killer - and thus merely slept Kell when capturing him after using a low-level word of power. To anyone’s knowledge, he’s never truly killed a man, even though almost a quarter of his words of power would effectively do so - This speaks more to the potency of even the lowest levels of these than his desire to kill.

All he truly seeks is “mastery” of his craft, even though he has already attained it. He (erroneously) believes that there are more words of power to unlock (there aren’t) and that others should follow in his tracks (they should not - using these Words of Power will inevitably attract Ascian attention if they are in the area as well as Other Bad Things). He refuses to teach anyone until he has attained this mastery that he seeks.

Other than some old man eccentricities and having an insufferable ego, he’d likely get along with the rest of the Tower. He’ll just be side-eyeing 

The 32 Black Words of Power

They are, effectively, 32 words spoken with a specific inflexion that use the Power of Creation the paragons used to wield. As such, they function entirely differently and practically a quarter of them serve solely to kill. While there are 32 White Words of Power, the knowledge was instead partially integrated into conjury/white magic through time, though some of the spells have gotten distorted over time.

While the words of power do not rely specifically on the user’s aether, they do require the user’s physical body and as such there is a limit on how much of them can be wielded in a singular day.

(tl;dr - he uses the FF1 black wizard spell list written out in zalgo, with the limitations of a level 50 black wizard)

[asklthank-blog]

(OOC) Tag, I’m it!!

Rules: Answer these questions and tag 20 blogs you'd like to know better!

Tagged by @ask-dbh-chloe, thanks a bunch!

Nickname: Kell, Ray

Zodiac: Libra

Height: 168cm

Time: 5:00PM

Favourite band/artist: Lemaitre, Madeon, Caravan Palace, Winston Surfshirt, f(x), and Modest Mouse.

Song stuck in my head: Re:Re: by Asian Kung-Fu Generation

Last movie I saw: The Disaster Artist, I think? 

Last thing I googled: 'pain in shoulder when stretching’

Do I get asks: Yeah!

Other blogs: I have a couple of old ask blogs/ a dusty art blog. Nothing active.

Why did I choose this username: 'Cause asklthankanderson looked too long.

Following: A nice-to-look-at 111. 

Average amount of sleep: 4-8 hours, but it goes to 0-3 during assessment crunch.

Lucky number: I don't really have one?

What am I wearing: Jeans, button-up shirt and a warm jacket.

Dream job: Storyboard artist or animator.

Dream trip: Not sure - maybe Italy? Or Canada.

Favourite food: Coffee, red liquorice, mapo tofu. 

Play any instruments: I used to play piano. And the flute.

Eye colour: Dark brown

Hair colour: Black/ dark brown.

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: Walking home alone on a country road at dusk, listening to the drone of power lines stretched out above your head.

Languages you speak: English, Cantonese, a tiny bit of Mandarin and Japanese.

Most iconic song: This one.

Random fact: The collective name for many giraffes is a 'tower', which is a funny mental image.

Tagging: I think most of the people I follow have already been tagged? Feel free to do this if you’d like to though!

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( Hello!!!!!!! I am actually here, for the first time in like a week? And I don't want to jinx it, but I might actually have some muse at the moment?? Health stuff is still bad, Mum stuff is still bad, but I'm actually going to try to do at least one reply! Yay! ))

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( Hey loves! we're officially moved into our temporary place. I have a few more of my things to move over here in the next couple of days, but Sherlock is settling surprisingly well and the neighbours are actually quieter than ours at home lol All the going up and down stairs has left me with a lot of nerve pain tonight though, so my plan for tomorrow is to rest and possibly get some replies done here :) for now I need to sleeeeep lol ))

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( Tiny spoilery thing under the cut ))

Mayor Fisk lol somewhere Matt just threw a TV out a window. Cannot fucking wait to see Daredevil vs Mayor Kingpin LOL

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( Hi loves! just checking in before I go to bed. Antibiotics are kicking the chest infection's ass and I'm feeling much better than I was at the start of the week. We've got a date for Mum's brain scan, and on Wednesday I get to go and get a camera stuck in places so they can hopefully find out why I'm still anaemic, then maybe figure out if they can fix whatever it is. So, things are still not great but there are bright spots. I might even be able to scare up some muse soon.

Love you all, as always <3 ))

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( I promise I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth lol ))

I'm currently down with a chest infection and almost needed a trip to hospital today (please never ignore your body when it's telling you that you need to sit the fuck down and rest.) Looking after Mum is taking up more and more of my time and attention that looking after myself is getting pushed to the side a bit and I'm paying for that now.

Mum had her more in depth memory assessment and the results were not good, but we were expecting that. Now we're waiting for an appointment for a ct scan of her brain that they'll compare with scans she had done when her seizures first started, but the doctor thinks that will most likely just confirm that it is some form of dementia. What they have to figure out after that is what type of dementia it is. We'll be getting a visit from an occupational therapist to assess how Mum's managing at home (lol she's not, I'm doing everything now) and what help she needs that we might be able to get.

Our own house is still being worked on. There's been very little done for two weeks because they literally just have to wait for the brick work to dry out before they can start rebuilding internal walls and the new kitchen and bathroom. The 4-6 week estimate is looking pretty laughable right now though.

I would love to be here and be writing, but I just don't have the mental for physical energy for it right now. I need to thank you all for putting up with me through this, but I would absolutely understand if any of you want to unfollow. I have no idea when I'll be able to actually do anything here, but I do love you all <3

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( thanks for the well wishes loves <3 it means a lot tonight. I'm finally on a ward in a bed, potentially to get some sleep but the doctor will be coming round to speak to me at some point and it's too hot anyway so that's unlikely. Hopefully the next time I update will have more news or at least I'll be going home. ))

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( so guess who's in the hospital lol ))

I passed out this afternoon and woke up face down on the floor. My face looks like I've been sparring with DD and my whole right arm is bruised to fuck. Nothing is broken thankfully but now they're trying to figure out why it happened. I've had a chest x-ray because I sound a bit wheezy and my oxygen levels are a bit low, I'm getting swabbed for any viruses I might have and I've had an ECG. Now they're looking for a bed for me for tonight, meanwhile I'm very sore and tired.

Have a pic of my disgusting bruised swollen face lol