#they got medication 2 weeks after they started feeling anxious

[ebonysplendor]

Prescription: LOVE (Demo) Review👨‍⚕️💊

TL;DR: I've got a head injury? I'm gonna need a doctor! How's my memory been? It's been fine. Wait, what? I've got a head injury? I'm gonna need a doctor! How's my memory been? It's been fine. Wait, what? I've got a head injury? I'm gonna need a doctor!

Game Link: https://livingslime.itch.io/prescriptionlove

Notable Features: Self-Insert, Yandere LI, gender neutral language, 2 endings Spiciness: 0/5 -- Don't get me wrong, it's not wholesome either, but this is the type of LI that'll make you say "But daddy, I love him!" even though something is clearly off. LI Red Flags: 2/5 -- Gaslighter, obsessive tendencies, overly "medicating" us DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT. HE'S SO SWEET. I CAN FIX HIM.

Wanna know more? Well, let's get into it!

Okay, not gonna lie, this review is long overdue, because I played this like...maybe 3 or 4 days after the initial drop, and here I am, like, 3 weeks later lmao.

Um...okay, you know what? I'm-- I'm not gonna push myself to write an intro this time lol. I mean, since when is it ever good to push yourself? ...Sometimes, the answer is sometimes, but you should never push yourself too hard, ya know? ...I'm getting off track.

I guess I could start by saying how I found this game on a total accident, and holy shit, am I glad that I found this game regardless. It was damn good, and...honestly, a little unnerving at times. Like, I'll tell you more about it later, but let me tell you, one part in particular had me genuinely spooked.

Anyways, before I get too far into my yap session, I'm going to go ahead and tell you about the game -- with as little spoilers as possible, of course. I mean, how would you be motivated to play the game otherwise unless I leave just enough suspense and mystery? Exactly, so allow me a moment to set the scene, and let's get into it.

So, boom.

We wake up...somewhere.

No, like you don't get it. Logically, it's like, duh, hospital, but we have a whole ass IV in our arm, a splitting headache, and it's almost painfully obvious that our memory took a hit, because we don't remember damn near anything, you feel me? We have, what is essentially, a hole where our memories are supposed to be, and the memories that we do have are so fragmented that they doesn't make any sense. Like...what the hell happened, ya know?

At this point, we're making things worse, because we're trying to force ourselves to remember something -- anything -- and our brain is just like "Mmm...nah. How about we panic, though? Let's do that instead." So, we do. We start feeling really anxious because it's like, how do we go from remembering everything one moment, blink, and then just...virtually no memories at all? Like, nothing? Like, we can't even recognize what a hospital looks like or even is.

"Hey, hey, it's okay".

Huh?

Oh! Oh, hello~! Could this be our boyfriend? Fiancé? Husband~?

"I'm Dr. Anselm."

I mean...he didn't say that he wasn't our husband, ya know? :3 Okay, wait, wait, no, stop, don't distract me. Let me get back on track.

Anyways, this tall gentleman helped us regain control of our nerves and informed us that we were perfectly safe and were currently in a hospital. Dr. Anselm basically told us that he has been overseeing our care and that he was the one in charge of our surgery.

...Wait, our fucking what?!

Before we get too freaked out, though, he tells us that we had some kind of accident that involved blunt force to our head which naturally caused a traumatic brain injury. He then tells us that, when we were brought it by the paramedics, we were in need of an emergency operation in order for us to live. Oh, and we had been asleep for two days straight. Well damn...

Imagine not remembering what you even ate for breakfast yesterday -- well, two days ago -- and this random man who claims to be a doctor comes out of the woodwork and tells you that you had brain surgery. If I could just reiterate once more...what the hell happened?!

Even still, admittedly, Dr. Anselm is being super gentle about the whole thing, and it's bringing a good amount of comfort and security, like everything is going to end up okay; he's even going to let us call our family to let them know that we've pulled through and that we're safe...even though, it's a bit off that no one's visited to start with.

No matter though, because it's past curfew anyways, and Dr. Anselm is adamant that we should rest first and call tomorrow. Fair enough. Rest is a part of recovery after all, and we'd rather get our memories back sooner versus later, not to mention that we actually are a little tired. Lmao, now here's when the issues start coming in...

See, we managed to fall asleep, but then the creak of the door woke us up. Now, at first, we're like "Meh, probably the nurses checking in or whatever", but the issue is, remember when I was like we felt a sense of comfort and security from Dr. Anselm? Lmao, this shit was far from comfortable, let alone safe. So, we make the mistake of we look at the door, and in the gap --

Lmao nah, ain't no way. We're hallucinating.

BRO, AIN'T NO FUCKING WAaaaAAAaAaAaaAAaY. WE ARE NOT HALLUCINA-- DoCTOr ANSEeEEeEEEeeeELM!!!!

Bro, we hit that call button so fast, but that thing also ran off just as fast before Dr. Anselm came rushing in. So, naturally, now we look like we're experiencing the side effect of delulu, because we're trying to explain that we saw something that was clearly not there, but it's like...bro, no, we know what the fuck we saw! Like, dude, please do something!

As always, Dr. Anselm's being super sweet and promised that he'd look into it and get someone to check the security cameras. He encourages us to try to go back to sleep so we don't disrupt our recovery, and, oddly enough, we're able to, even after that.

The next morning, comes along, and Dr. Anselm let's us call our folks, like promised, but...no answer. Hurtful, but okay. Dr. Anselm, also like promised, tells us that they checked the security cameras, and there was no one watching us from the door. Great. So, now we're two for two in this bitch. Perfect.

Still, leave it to Dr. Anselm to help us feel better, though, so it doesn't weigh on us too much for too long. He really is our knight in shining...lab coat.

Even though, with all that medicine he's been giving us...

Not to mention, we had this vividly weird dream...

And, sometimes, there's these weird little flickers in his expression when we ask certain questions or say certain things...

Is Dr. Anselm really trying to help us? Or...

...is it benefitting him that we don't know what happened to us?

Then again...

Nah, that's kind've delulu to think. He's done nothing but try to prioritize our health and recovery. We're safe. We can trust him. It the doctor's orders, after all, and he'd know what's best for us.

4 words: I CAN FIX HIM.

No, no, no, no, no, hear me out! I can fix this one! Like, the red flags are there, but I can FIX him! Is he the one that caused us to have a traumatic brain injury? Maybe. Is he over-medicating us? Possibly. Am I gonna overlook all of that? Absolutely. I mean, who cares that I have an intense suspicion that we're not actually in a hospital and that we're just in a basement that's staged to look like a hospital. Who hasn't played doctor before? I ain't gonna fault this man for trying to heal his inner child and playing pretend. Like, honestly? Good for him.

Okay, but no, enough of that. This...was really good! It physically hurts me that this game is not done yet, but I am so excited that this game isn't done yet, because I am anticipating the hell out of what is next to come. The developer really has a strong foundation, and I can only imagine how they're going to build on it.

The pacing is a little slow, but it's not a bad slow! It's literally seeping us into the story, and I honestly feel like the pacing could not have been executed any better than it has been. This flowed exactly how I feel a demo or prologue or intro or whatever you wanna call it should. I just know that whenever there's an update, shit is going to start getting real, and I cannot wait for that!

Let's talk about the environment/atmosphere...ooh bitch. Let me just say this, I can watch all of the horror movies in the world and be totally fine. I can watch let's plays of horror games and read scary stories...but I cannot be in the situation myself. Haunted houses/trails? Playing horror games myself? Shit scares me out of my soul. That being said, that part where it was talking about being watched through the crack of the door? Chills. Fucking chills. I don't know what it was, because that's not anything revolutionary, especially in these yandere games, but for some reason, the way that the dev executed it just hit different. And the art! Like did you see the CG?! Lmao nah, nah, let me remind you. Actually, let me zoom in on it.

Like, what the fuck is thaaaaaaaaat?! (╥ᯅ╥)

I didn't mention this, because I was narrating/summarizing, but I had genuine fear tears when I read through it the first time, and it was somehow worse when I had to grab and attach the screenshots and type through that part. Like, I HATE shit like this, bro! Like, just make it obvious! Don't put faces and figures and shit like that in the darkness and barely out of view to the point where you can't see it unless you focus on it!

I was literally squinting my eyes and reading fast as shit because I wanted to read it, but I wanted to get through it and away from this scene, but I also wanted to prep myself for a possible jumpscare. Like, developer. De-ve-lo-per. Pop off. This part was so good, and I loved/hated every second.

I'm doing that yap thing that I do again, so I'm going to save you from the rest of my ramblings and start winding down. If you do not already have this downloaded and ready to play, you have got to do that expeditiously. I am telling you, I know I say this about a lot of these visual novels, but this is one that I absolutely cannot allow you to miss out on. This one is so good! Just don't get too invested, because it's just a demo. I suggest going to the game's page, putting your pride aside, and beg for an update as soon as possible -- respectfully, of course. It should be common sense, but don't harass the dev for an update ... but damn, do I hope they come through with an update soon. Very soon. Tomorrow actually...today.

Anyways, here's the link. Go download it, and tell the dev that your life is theirs, because I'm honestly contemplating starting a cult in their honour. I'll sacrifice the nearest weeb for two extra lines of reading material in this visual novel. I'm serious. I'm yapping again...

Okay, anyways! Ending it for realsies this time. Again, I highly recommend giving this game a playthrough. Here's the link to the game page and download...again. If you're able to donate to the cause, donate to the cause, as I'm sure the dev would seriously appreciate the monetary support. Oh! And just as a "pro"-but-not-really-tip: for right now, the choices are more of an "illusion of choice". The endings will be worded the same no matter what, so there's no extra dialogue or CGs, or secret options, or anything like that. It'll just be dialogue pertaining to that specific answer choice at that specific time, and then it's not brought up or mentioned again after it's done.

And...that's it! Lol I'm finally done yapping. Big preesh for getting this far! Please remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

Prescription: LOVE (Demo)

[sirfrogsworth]

Mounjaro's Revenge: The Inevitable Adventures of Froggie, Chapter Unknown

I keep saying I can't leave the house without having some kind of adventure. And I really thought I was going to have a quick, uneventful doctor's visit with my monthly checkup this past Wednesday. I'd go in, they'd check the box Medicare requires every month, and I'd come straight home.

But adventure seeks me out. I can't seem to escape its grasp. And, yes, sometimes I like having adventures. They give me something to write about. And sometimes they are fun memories. But sometimes adventures just make me tired. And not all adventures are positive.

For the past 3 weeks I have been on the second dosage amount of Mounjaro. Unlike the Ozempic, I have had a few issues with side effects. Roughly 48 hours after my injection, I get sick to my stomach and feel pukey. It lasts for about two hours. I either vomit and lose the urge or I hold it in and it fades. I am then compelled to take a nap.

Considering the weight loss and glucose control, getting sick for an hour or two per week isn't a huge deal. There is a good chance I will get used to the medication as time goes on, but even if I don't, I am okay with this consequence.

My injection day was Tuesday, and based on past experience, I figured I'd have until Thursday morning before I got sick. The past 2 episodes happened at almost identical times, so I figured Wednesday wouldn't be a problem.

But right before my doctor's appointment I started feeling extremely... rough.

Optimistic for no good reason, I was hopeful I could get through the appointment before the urge to vomit arrived.

I get to the office and there are 3 patients ahead of me. This was not a good sign. My doctor tends to overbook and I was probably going to have a bit of a wait. I arrived in the middle of a lively conversation about where to get a good steak in St. Louis. I'm used to waiting rooms being full of quiet and bored people staring at their phones so when I opened the door it felt like the conversation smacked me in the face.

The cast of characters were as follows...

There was an older black man who had the spirit of a kindly grandpa. He seemed nice and wise and was enjoying the steak conversation. Let's call him, Old Guy.

There was an older white fellow who was anxious about the wait time due to having another appointment soon. He was on hold with the other doctor's office trying to delay his appointment time. He was only mildly interested in steak due to that distraction. I already used Old Guy, so... Anxious Guy.

And then there was the steak expert who was leading the conversation. Actually, leading is not strong enough. He was *dominating* the conversation. As I sat down and his visage entered my field of view, I was a bit taken aback.

Do you know how in Star Trek everyone has a mirror universe doppelganger who may look the same, but they usually have personality traits that are reversed?

They are often identified by arch overacting or a change in facial hair.

The steak expert was my mirror universe counterpart. He was of similar age, height, and weight. Same color hair and eyes. He even wore similar clothing.

But he had a goatee instead of a beard. *gasp*

And he wore... sandals. *double gasp*

He had clearly been in a recent transporter mishap.

I mean, I could *never* wear sandals. The world is not ready to handle my nude foot and I find very few sandals have the load-bearing capacity necessary for people my size. You are asking for foot pain if you are over 300 pounds and wearing sandals.

Mirror Froggie was very outgoing and personable, but he had trouble filtering what he said and was often obliviously rude. He clearly thought himself to be hilarious but struggled to make even kindly Old Guy chuckle.

Old Guy said, "I think Longhorn makes a decent steak for the money."

And then Mirror Me's unfiltered response... "Longhorn is shit. You shouldn't eat there. You are wasting your money on shit steak."

"I don't know, I've always enjoyed..."

"I'm telling you, friend, it is shit steak. End of story."

You could tell that made Old Guy feel bad for suggesting what he liked. But he brushed it off and asked for a better suggestion. Mirror Froggie confidently told him of a restaurant called "Sam's" that had "the best steak in town."

Old Guy proceeded to ask Siri to look up Sam's and it took a few tries. He reminded me of my dad fighting with the iPhone and repeating things over and over with increasing volume. I think Old Guy wasn't specific enough as he got the wholesale club on the first few attempts. Finally he said, "SAMMM'S STEAKHOUSSSSE" and found success. Old Guy saw the reviews and some of them were... not great.

But Mirror Froggie was like, "You can't read reviews. They're all liars." And I was questioning why people would take the time to lie about a small St. Louis steakhouse, but whatever. He then said it was because the restaurant was in disrepair and needed new plumbing, but that's why they could sell such amazing steak at reasonable prices.

Theories are less logical in the Mirror Universe. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anxious Guy got off his phone call and cursed into the void. He missed his other appointment. He interjected with, "Is that Sam's place expensive?" And that sent Mirror Froggie into a long diatribe about the price of meat at different places and his annoyance at steak-related inflation. Soon after, Anxious Guy finally got in to see the doctor. Old Guy was keeping Mirror Froggie busy with conversation, so I just closed my eyes and rested as they discussed the price of oversized shrimp "as big as your fist". I guess they ran out of things to say about steak.

As they were talking I started to get a spidey-sense about Mirror Froggie.

He *needed* conversation.

He *needed* distraction.

His boredom abhors a vacuum.

Whenever there was a lull or silent moment, I could see him getting very antsy. And if Old Guy got called in before Mirror Froggie... I was going to have a problem.

I was feeling sicker by the moment and did not have the bandwidth to help some stranger with his inability to accept boredom.

And... Old Guy was next.

Because, of course he was.

I feel like sitting there with my eyes closed and also not having said a word the entire time was a pretty decent social cue that I was not interested in talking. But Mirror Me decided to poke that notion with a stick in order to find a way in.

He speaks barely above a whisper, "I wish I could sleep in a public waiting room. Not sure how you do that."

"Yeah, I'm not feeling well. Nothing contagious, just very tired."

"Well, if you're sick, I guess you're in the right place, am I right? *long pause* Cuz we're next to a hospital. *short pause* Right?"

Oh great, he's a joke explainer.

Mirror Froggie did not care about my desire to sit in peace while I waited. His foot was anxiously a-tappin' and he was vibrating with energy that needed someplace to go. He tried standing up and walking in circles. And I guess because my eyes were shut he decided to narrate his walking and stretching to keep me informed. That satisfied him for roughly 20 seconds. He sat back down and was clearly struggling to be alone with his own thoughts.

"Hey, friend."

I open my eyes slowly.

"Do you see that magazine next to you? Would you mind handing that to me?"

I thought, "This is good. He's seeking out an alternate source of stimulation. He can read the magazine and I can rest until my turn."

Seriously, brain... where is this optimism coming from? I've been a cynical misanthrope for like 4 years now.

He flips through a few pages. "Look at this. It's got Oprah on the cover. It's got to be good, right? They don't put Oprah on the cover unless it is good, ya know? Though she doesn't look right after losing all that weight. You know what I mean, friend?"

Well, shit.

I didn't give him a distraction, I gave him a conversation starter. Still, I kept my eyes closed in the hopes he would give up.

"Hey, friend."

Crap.

"You want to hear a joke?"

I open my eyes. I'm not getting out of this.

"Sure." as unenthusiastically as I can manage.

He proceeds to tell three jokes all strung together. All of them terrible and none of them coherent enough for me to remember. I gave him complimentary singular chuckles even though two of the punchlines didn't make sense. I think one was about accidentally eating cat food.

"Hey, friend... how'd you like my jokes?"

I jokingly replied back, "Well, you said *a* joke and that was *three* jokes. That wasn't what I agreed to."

He chuckles and I close my eyes again.

"Hey, friend."

Jesus Christ, would someone jingle their keys for this dude?

"Do you want to hear a 'locker room' joke?"

Oh fuck me.

"I... guess?"

There was no way out of this aside from unpleasant confrontation and my energy calculation of that was much higher than just suffering through a dirty joke.

Here it is, as best as I can remember...

"So there is a pirate ship. And the captain has a beautiful daughter who has come aboard. He tells her that the crew hasn't seen a woman in a long time and they aren't safe to be around, so she should keep a razor blade 'down there.' After the voyage he assembles all of his men and instructs them to pull down their pants. Every one of them has had their dick cut off... except for one. The captain goes up to the only one with their dick intact and says, 'Thank you for not deflowering my only daughter. You should be commended for your restraint. And as a reward, I will make you my first mate.'"

I literally cannot type the punchline because it was an unintelligible noise. Basically, Mirror Froggie imitated someone without a tongue trying to speak.

Yeah. That happened.

I could not hide my disdain for this joke and I was feeling too awful to muster up any kind of response. He seemed confused by the absence of laughter from his wonderful rapey body mutilation joke.

"You get it, friend? He lost his tongue because he ate her pussy."

Yes, explaining the joke always helps... friend.

In whatever the opposite of the nick of time is, moments after this stranger said "ate her pussy"... the nurse calls Mirror Froggie in for his appointment.

I would feel relieved, but the Mounjaro side effects were getting worse and the urge to lose the remaining nutritional value from last night's dinner was increasing by the moment. I was next in line, so I was hoping Mirror Froggie didn't take up too much of the doctor's time with horrible "locker room" jokes and dubious steakhouse suggestions.

Roughly 5 minutes later the nurse calls me in to get my vitals. She weighs me and I am down another 3 pounds. That reminded me of why I was suffering this tummy tantrum. My blood pressure was perfect but my pulse was quite high. I was very anxious holding in my stomach contents and I tried to explain, but she asked me to try and relax to lower my heart rate. We compromised when I got it down to 107.

The nurse keeps forgetting that I don't really have a family anymore. And I know she has a lot of patients in and out and they probably all blend together. But she always ends up asking me questions that require me to remind her my parents are dead.

"Did your mom put up the Christmas tree yet?"

I went with, "No tree this year. Too much work."

"Aw, that's too bad. I actually got mine up early this year. You gotta put up a tree for Christmas."

Thankfully her job was done at this point and she abruptly ended the conversation.

Next up, the pee guy.

He has never actually told me what his name is so that is just what I call him in my head.

Every month I have to sacrifice my urine to the gods of Medicare so they know I am taking my meds and not selling them on the mean streets of Spanish Lake. And the pee guy always comes in to collect my sample. The little cup is kept in a white paper bag for discretion. He used to just give you a clear ziplock, and that was a little embarrassing, as everyone in the waiting room could see your pee. I definitely prefer the new white paper bag system.

It could be my lunch or some cookies or a bunch of peanuts.

Who is to know?

The pee guy is a bit of a talker as well. But the nice thing about his conversational style is that you can't get in a word edgewise. If he asks you a question, he'll even answer it for you. This requires very little effort on my part.

"Hey there, Mr. Benjermin!"

(I have noticed Ben-jer-min is a common pronunciation among Black folks in the area. Not sure if that is just a St. Louis thing or not. Perhaps I have a dialectologist follower who knows.)

I wave hello.

"How's it going, Mr. Benjermin!? Good? Good. Just gotta get your sample. Still taking the same meds? (I nod yes.) Okay, just need you to sign here. New Year's is coming up. Gotta be careful not to party too hard. You'll be regretting that. Though you don't look like a drinker to me. (I nod no.) Yeah, you're a good one. You keep it clean. Okay then, Mr. Benjermin. You're all set. Here is your new sample cup for next time."

He replaces my white paper bag with a new white paper bag and leaves the room without me saying a word. And I'm just realizing he asks me if I am a drinker quite a lot. He must sense my teetotaler spirit or something because he always assumes (correctly) that I don't drink. He's just really concerned about me partying too hard.

Finally the doctor comes in.

My doctor is kind, compassionate, and competent. The almost 3 Cs. But he's got a touch of what I call "Boomer-itis." He's on the progressive side of most things but there are a few ingrained sensibilities from that generation he didn't escape. It's mostly harmless. Though he said something sexist in front of a nurse practitioner student during my last visit that made her roll her eyes behind him.

He greets me and I tell him I'm not feeling well from the Mounjaro and that I am still recovering from my trip to Florida. He tells me that a lot of people can get sick for days from these new drugs, so getting sick for an hour or two isn't so bad. I agree, though I really wish I had not gotten sick at the exact time of this appointment. I keep eyeballing the trash can in the corner just in case things go sideways in my tummy.

He asks about my trip to Florida and I predicted that—as I already had photos ready to go on my phone. I scroll through them, showing off amazing cityscapes and mountainous clouds and an orange sunset over a lake—hoping to impress him with my photography skills to no avail. And then he sees Katrina. Now, I am not blind to her attractiveness, but I do sometimes forget how people respond when they see her next to me.

"Oh, wow. She's beautiful!" he exclaims.

I almost felt flattered on her behalf. But then his Boomer-itis starts to kick in. And he repeats, "Yeah, she's *really* beautiful. Just a friend, you said?" His facial expression and tone of voice are like, "You poor thing, you have been friendzone'd." And probably a touch of, "She's out of your league, buddy." I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it is this familiar look of pity and worry. This is usually followed up with a probing question trying to figure out what our "deal" is. Why is it so odd to that generation that a man and woman can earnestly be just friends and perfectly content with that arrangement?

It would be the easiest thing in the world to just say, "She's gay" and that she isn't "out of my league" as she plays an entirely different sport. (Competitive Subaru Ownership?) But my friendship with Katrina is not some consolation prize due to her queerness. I shouldn't have to explain or justify why I'm "just friends" or why I'm not "being led on."

In a worried tone, "So, umm, how'd you two meet?"

There it is.

"She is an artist. I posted some of her work on my website and it was very popular and helped people find her work. She messaged me to say thank you and we were instant friends. 10 years later she's my best friend and very much like family."

Thankfully his pity face evaporated and he finally saw how long-lasting and meaningful this friendship was. But it is a weirdly common obstacle I have noticed whenever people see a fat guy has a conventionally attractive friend.

Friends are great. Friends have been more supportive and beneficial to me than any romantic entanglement I've ever had.

All of my friends are hot and queer and that's awesome.

Note to self: Put that on a t-shirt.

Knowing how difficult it was, he congratulated me on surviving the trip and we wrapped up our appointment quickly. All I have left to do is check in with his assistant, get my prescriptions sent in, and make my next appointment. I can see the finish line, but my tummy is rumbling and I am making contingency plans for the Great Upchuck of 2023™. I'm clocking trashcans with plastic liners. I'm trying to remember where the nearest restroom is. And then I look down at the little white paper bag containing my urine sample cup and think, "Last resort."

Trinica (the competence ninja and my favorite person in the office) is processing my meds and searching the calendar for next month's visit. Shelly is keeping quiet and working on her computer. I start pacing back and forth. I'm not sure what I think that will do, but I think desperation is taking over at this point.

Shelly sees me and asks, "How's that whole disability situation going for you?" She is acting like my best friend now after cursing at me on the phone. I have a feeling she had an unpleasant conversation with my doctor after that episode because she isn't this sweet and nice to anyone.

I give her the update, "Everything is submitted. My lawyer is happy with all of the records we were able to find. It's just a waiting game now. It could be a couple of months but if I have to see a judge it could be over a year."

She commiserates with me about how slow the process can be.

Then, out of fucking nowhere, Mirror Froggie reappears in the little sliding reception window like a jumpscare in a horror movie.

Are you fucking kidding me with this guy?

"Hey Trinica, do you have a business card for the doctor? I want to recommend him to Doug."

Who the fuck is Doug? Are we supposed to know Doug? Is Doug the tongueless pussy-eating pirate who needs medical attention?

Trinica looks in her desk and is unable to find a spare card. So she stops processing my stuff and starts hunting around the office. She has a bad leg so she is slowly limping while searching every desk. I have never wanted to strangle anyone before, but my doppeldouche was really pushing his luck.

At this point I am just staring at the little trash can in the blood-draw room. I can feel the scrambled eggs reversing course through my digestive system.

Trinica finds a fucking card for fucking Doug and fucking Mirror Froggie finally fucks off to bother people that are not me.

Trinica gets me all sorted, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, and make to the car.

I sit in the driver's seat, and with that unearned optimism, say to myself, "I made it."

For all of you who are squeamish about bodily fluids, you can just pretend this is where the story ends. Everything was fine. I made it home and was happy and comfortable and nothing gross happened. The nausea faded away and I lived happily ever after.

The End.

Thank you for reading this and have a lovely day.

Just scroll on by to the next post!

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Okay, so you all probably thought I was foreshadowing a monumental barf.

But foreshadowing is typically subtle. You don't want to give away the ending. Of course this was going to end in barf. The barfing was inevitable. The barf was not what I was *actually* foreshadowing at all.

Did anyone catch what it was?

You know that discrete white paper bag?

The one that could be for peanuts or maybe a sammich and definitely not my urine sample cup?

The last resort?

Look, it's all I had.

I was not going to make it home. I was not going to make it back into the bathroom. No trash bins on the horizon. Nothing in my car.

At first it was just an itty bitty baby barf. A perfect amount to be contained in a flimsy paper bag. I felt a relief wash over me.

"That's all?" still being stupidly optimistic.

But then I made that noise.

That... pre-retch noise.

That one where your head kinda juts forward and your lips make a giant O shape and you make a very specific grunting sound. That sound where if another person hears it, they involuntarily make the same specific grunting sound.

This was when I had one of those movie moments when a character knows they are about to die and they can't do anything about it. And I made this exact face as I waited for the impending doom of a vomitous explosion.

The Great Upchuck of 2023™ commenced.

And it was... intense.

Everything inside my stomach transferred rapidly, furiously, projectile-ly into the bag of foreshadowing.

I mean, I'm pretty much convinced my stomach is a TARDIS because I do not remember ingesting that much food. This sheer volume of barf had to be coming from another dimensional plane.

I could see it staining the sides of the bag as it was clearly not meant for this. When I finished it was barely intact—soggy, if you will. When I was absolutely sure I had ralph'd to completion, my only option was to gently place it on the passenger's side floor (sans floor mats). All I needed was for it to last 5 more minutes on the trip home and then I could dispose of it and pretend this never happened.

Physically I felt such a relief. Sometimes there is this post-puke euphoria where you just feel, well... lighter. Unburdened with no longer having that feeling. Happy it is over with.

I place the key in the ignition and head for home. As I'm driving I can't help but stare at the bag. I can see it mocking me as it changes colors. The exterior was getting... damp. If this were someone else's vomit, I would have been vomiting because of it. Just... so gross.

I get home and park the car. I walk around to the passenger side to begin the extraction process. I pull the trash can close and I have to psych myself up to deal with this horrible hurling happenstance.

And this next part, well... it would be hilarious if it weren't so damned disgusting.

I stare at the bag.

The bag stares back at me.

I take a deep breath and approach the bag.

The bag grins at me.

I gingerly grasp the very tippy-top in an effort to not touch any of the offending material.

I slowly lift up the bag.

And the very instant it reaches just enough height to do the most damage...

The bottom falls out.

If the bag had broken just as I was picking it up, the carnage would have been minimal. Only a small area to clean up. But clearly this bag read the Wikipedia page on air burst nuclear weapons. It knew you get a much more devastating blast radius if you detonate from an elevated position.

A TARDIS worth of partially digested scrambled eggs just pour and splatter and spray onto the floor of my car. It looked like the bag was puking out my puke.

The bag is now dead but I can feel its ghost laughing at me.

I stand there frozen holding the top of this evil deceased white paper bag trying and failing to process what just happened.

I realize I have no idea what to do with this situation. This is something that would usually be followed with, "MOoooOOOoooommmmm! How do I clean up vomit?"

And she would say, "You'll never do it right. I'll clean it up."

And I'd pretend to be like, "Oh no, it's my mess. I could never let you do that for me."

And she'd insist and break out her endless supply of very specific cleaning potions and magics and soon it would be as if the vomit didn't even exist.

So, I guess my question is... do I have to get my car detailed now?

The Actual End.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Suicide (this is a serious topic, please be careful), depression, alcoholism, toxic relationship, intolerance, shy reader (this will pass someday), extremely cute Jungkook 😊 and Gureum (JK's former dog) 😫🙏

A/N: Hi again! I came back earlier than expected, but since I already have a good part of the story written, it wasn't too much work (this won't happen all the time). The themes of this chapter are difficult, so please be careful while reading. It's a short chapter because it’s still an introduction to the story. Things will start happening quickly from now on. Just know that in advance 👀

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 2

I read the words from my favorite book, The Notebook, and even though every time I open its pages, I’m transported to another dimension, this time it doesn’t happen. I shift uncomfortably in my bed, feeling anxious. My mind is filled with thoughts yet simultaneously empty.

After dinner tonight, I couldn’t accomplish much. I took a shower and tried to watch a documentary I was excited to start, but it failed to capture my attention and did nothing to ease my worries about my neighbor, Misuk. Like her, my father also suffered from depression. I was just a child of 11 when I remember the first time he attempted to take his own life. I was young, but the weight of caring for him, even in terms of his mental health, felt heavy. My father would lie in bed all day, and not knowing what to do, I tried to bring him some comfort: getting good grades, making him proud, being affectionate and smart, asking for nothing from him except for what was essential for my survival.

My mother was incredibly strong; she worked at a marketing company almost all day, and when she came home, she would cook and help me with my math homework. I would sometimes catch her crying while cooking or cleaning up the daily mess, but she always said she was fine and put on a smile. I also remember that my father would occasionally have bursts of happiness. For at least a day, the man he used to be would return—energetic, funny, playful. It was only after some time that I, in my innocence, realized that this was worse. It gave us hope that the hard times would pass, that it was just a difficult moment, and that we didn’t need to worry because the turbulence would eventually subside.

But it didn’t pass. It got worse. With depression, came dependency. My father refused to take his prescribed medication and drank heavily every day. He would start in the morning and continue until nightfall. I felt fortunate if he collapsed on the couch and lost consciousness. Sometimes he would become aggressive, and I would retreat to my room, practically staying there all day. That’s how I began to find solace in reading. Books transported me to another world, more colorful and beautiful. My father, inebriated, didn’t exist in any other universe but my own, and that was comforting.

My parents started to argue; my mother was exhausted from holding everything together for months. One night, she pleaded with him to return to who he used to be, or else she would kick him out. He became so furious that he destroyed my grandmother's old wardrobe, and the only reason he didn’t hurt my mother was that he was too drunk to even reach her. I remember her grabbing my arms and dragging me upstairs, as we heard the car start and speed away from the garage. We only learned hours later that my father had died because he had my mother’s emergency contact saved on his phone. He had suffered a severe accident, crashing his car into a tall concrete wall.

A week after the funeral, my mother went to church for the first time. It became her balm, her ark in the midst of that flood, and I accompanied her without questioning or hesitating. I was so young and didn’t understand much; it felt like a relief. I wasn’t sad; I was happy. Happy that my father, the one I loved so much, was finally gone. The weight of worry, of caring for him, no longer existed. Confessing this to myself, much later, was difficult, but it was the truth. I was happy he had died because, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t have to sacrifice my childhood to look after him. I only had to take care of myself, and no one else.

I think of Misuk once more and find her depression reminiscent of my father's. Aside from that, she is completely different from him. I visited her house last month, and I would never have known what had happened if it weren’t for Jungkook. A tear rolls down my face uncontrollably. My throat tightens as I taste bitterness in my mouth. I feel relief that she hasn’t been able to follow through with her plan, relief because now I understand what she’s going through, and I can finally help her. I was a child when my father died and didn’t comprehend much, but now I can do things differently. I can help her, support her, and be there for her during tough times.

I rise from my bed with newfound energy as an idea flashes in my mind. I sneak into the kitchen in the early hours, trying not to make much noise and wake my mother. I walk through the dark hallway of my house to the kitchen, searching the cupboard for an old recipe book my grandmother left for my mother and me.

My mother never liked cooking, but I do. I’ve always enjoyed making desserts, and knowing I can brighten my neighbor’s day, I decide to prepare a treat. Patbingsu, a frozen dessert with sweet red bean, takes a few hours to make, but it’s easy to follow. I begin gathering the ingredients and organizing everything, only realizing how much time has passed when a deep sleepiness overtakes me and the sun begins to rise through the window.

I glance at my phone’s clock, my eyes widening. It’s now 6 a.m. I look at the dessert, adorned with fruits in a pot I set aside, and panic when I realize that the ice, if not consumed promptly, would become terrible. I smack my forehead in disbelief at my own foolishness. Biting my lower lip, I’m at a loss for what to do. It’s very early, and my neighbors might still be asleep. On the other hand, if I don’t deliver the dessert to them, I’ll likely lose both my recipe and the hours of sleep I sacrificed to make it.

I curse myself, weighing the pros and cons of each option. I decide to peek out the window into the neighboring house, searching for any lights on or signs of movement that might indicate my neighbors are awake. Nothing happens. I huff in disappointment. I decide not to deliver my dessert to Misuk; the mistake was mine for being impulsive and not thinking things through before acting. I step away from the window, feeling disheartened and sad, when suddenly the front door of the neighboring house swings open. Jungkook appears out of nowhere, barefoot and wearing a sweatshirt that nearly covers his hands.

I smile as I watch his sleep-laden face while he stretches and rubs his eyes, still groggy from sleep. He seems to be waking up a bit, opening the door to the house again. That’s when my trance breaks. This is the perfect moment to deliver the pot of sweets to his mother. I dash forward like a madwoman, not bothering to take off my apron or put on my slippers, grabbing everything in a hurry. I nearly trip over the flowers in front of my door, but I don’t stop.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” I shout desperately. A few seconds later, I realize it’s still morning, and I might wake everyone up, so I run even faster to his door. I use all my body and agility to get there before the door closes, thinking he didn’t hear me and that, like an idiot, I wouldn’t make it in time. But the door opens again, and he only sticks his head out, one eye closed as if the sunlight is too much for him at this hour.

A happy, proud smile spreads across my face. I refrain from jumping with joy, knowing that would be excessive and he might think I’m crazy.

“Y/N?” he asks, his voice hoarse as if he’s seeing a mirage. “Good morning, how are you?”

“Good morning,” I reply with a smile. Then I realize I must be interrupting him with all this shouting, and finally, the embarrassment washes over me. “I’m sorry, it’s morning.”

“Yes, it is,” he says, looking me up and down; my apron is crooked, and my hair is a mess. I don’t blame him; he looks awake but not entirely ready. It’s almost as if he just crawled out of bed to greet the morning sun. I must be ruining his peace.

“I’m really sorry again, it’s just that…” I trail off, glancing at the pot in my hands. “I made a little something to sweeten your mother’s day. I hope she likes it.”

“You cooked?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “What time?”

“Almost now,” I reply softly, my voice short and hesitant. “I can deliver it to her later, if you want.”

“It’s 6:30 now,” he says, as if still trying to wrap his head around things. He doesn’t seem like a morning person, judging by his demeanor. “Come in, please.”

“No!” I respond quickly, my voice rising. My eyes widen in embarrassment. “You don’t have to; I just came to drop this off for her.”

“Just come in. I just need to wash my face and brush my teeth.” He smiles for the first time, a dimple forming on his cheek, and his doe dark eyes squint. “Come on, I insist.”

“Alright,” I whisper, feeling shy. I take small steps toward the door. I realize I have to pass by him to enter the house, and before I know it, I’m inside. The house is silent, and a small white puppy scurries around my feet, recognizing my presence. I smile, bending down to his level.

“This is Gureum,” Jungkook says from behind me. I nod.

“Your mom told me she adopted him.” I pet his ear, finding it amusing how his fluffy tail wags back and forth. “He wasn’t here last night.”

“Actually, he was, but in my room. My dad is allergic, so until we can get the medication, we keep him mostly to my room.” He explains. I turn to him, nodding in agreement. “I’ll wash my face and be right back.”

“You don’t have to bother; I just want to deliver this.” I repeat, feeling awkward.

“It’s no bother. You can sit on the couch; I’ll be right back.” Before I can respond, he hurries up the stairs, as if afraid I might vanish if he takes too long.

I sit on the couch, hearing the sound of tiny paws behind me. Gureum is so adorable and affectionate, and being small, he has to lift both front paws to reach my hands for pets. I laugh when he licks my hand, tilting his head as if expecting more affection. Minutes pass until Jungkook appears again, this time wearing a tight black t-shirt and a headband that keeps his dark hair pushed back. I forget about Gureum, mesmerized. He is incredibly handsome—almost like a literary character come to life right in front of me. My cheeks flush, and my heart races. For some reason, I like him very much. Since the first time I saw him, I have this feeling.

“Now we can talk,” he smiles, pulling up his gray sweatpants. “I really needed to brush my teeth… you know.”

“Yeah,” I agree, unsure of what to say. He sits on the couch, just a few inches away from me, and that alone makes me nervous. “I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to give this to your mom, but at the same time, I didn’t want to wake her. When I saw you, I just…”

“Wanted to hand it over,” he finishes, smiling. I nod in agreement. “It’s alright. It’s really kind of you to do this. My mom has been waking up later because of her medication, so it was a good idea to talk to me.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. He laughs suddenly at my answer, throwing his head back. His white teeth show, and curiously, his two front ones are slightly larger than the others, giving him a cute smile. It's very funny. I want to laugh with him, even though I’m still confused about why he’s laughing.

“Why are you thanking me? You made the sweets!” He justifies his laughter, still chuckling. I grin in embarrassment, hiding my face with my hands.

“I don’t know. I guess I feel guilty for coming to talk to you at this hour.” I shrug.

“Is that the kind of person you are?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding.

“A nice person,” Jungkook clarifies, smiling at me. His eyes meet mine for a few seconds, and the nervousness I felt earlier comes back stronger. I try to smile, fiddling with my nails, feeling awkward. “Thank you for bringing this dessert. What is it?”

“Patbingsu,” I say, feeling a bit more at ease. Talking about food calms me down. “It’s made with sweet beans and fruits; it’s very healthy.”

“Can I try some? I love patbingsu,” he asks, tilting his head to the side. I nod, opening the glass pot’s lid. He reaches for a fruit, and I can’t help but notice the tattoos adorning his pale arm. I swallow hard, feeling a shiver run down my spine.

His right arm is covered in various designs that stretch down to his fingertips. A flower, a tiger and a phrase that reads “Winners Never Quit” are the only things I can distinguish quickly. I try to focus on something else, but it’s nearly impossible. He is incredibly handsome, much taller than me, exuding confidence and assurance. His scent is the same as yesterday, so good that I wish I could close my eyes to concentrate and feel more; his breath is even fresher from the toothpaste he just used. His hair pushed back draws even more attention to his smooth neck, speckled with beauty marks that, if it weren’t for genetics, I’d say were strategically placed to drive me wild. One specific mole, just below his lower lip, takes my breath away. He moans as he chews on a blueberry, and my already shallow breath nearly escapes me completely. He opens his eyes, frowning as if the fruit were the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

“It’s delicious. Really sweet,” he says, licking his lips. “You should try some.” He picks up a strawberry, dipping it in the sweet milk and sugar ice and brings it close to my mouth. I can’t refuse, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I bite into the red fruit, trying not to graze the tips of his fingers, but Jungkook seems unbothered by it and offers the whole thing without hesitation. I can almost taste his skin along with the food, the way he hands it to me without much care. I try not to choke, overwhelmed by what he’s doing to me, unable to say a word.

I swallow everything without uttering a peep. He leans back on the couch, spreading his legs, pausing for a moment to observe me. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, incapable to meet his gaze. He draws me in like some sort of supernatural force, and I can’t fathom how I’ll manage to be near him every time I see him.

“You’re so kind,” he suddenly whispers to himself. I turn to look into his eyes, trying to understand him. “Thank you so much for caring for my mom in this way. I’m at a loss for words.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” he insists without hesitation. “My mom needs more people like you around her. I’m glad to have you here with her.”

“Jungkook... I... Your mom is very important to me. You really don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t sleep thinking about her, and I decided to bring this because I know she’s feeling deep pain right now.” I say, feeling brave and determined. I need to tell him this. “I appreciate you confiding in me about what you told me last night. I promise I’ll do everything I can to take care of her and be there for her. Her secret is completely safe with me.”

“I know that,” he assures, smiling slightly. He bends down to give Gureum a gentle pat, who is now lying near his feet. He looks back at me, nodding. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. You can count on that.”

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ttipa @ane102

[kalcifers-blog]

IRIS FILES - ROBBIE THE ZOMBIE

CW - Physical/Mental Deterioration, Derealization, Rotting Alive, Zombification, Bugs/Insects, Medical Horror

Word Count: 994

Character Count: 4,271

CLASSIFICATION: ALTR 181502

ALTR AGE: 24 YRS OLD

ALTR HEIGHT: 5 “5

ALTR SEX: X

ALTR STATUS: UNSTABLE

ALTR INFO: 18152 contracted an unknown illness after an encounter with ALTR 114209. He was advised to keep track of his symptoms in the form of a journal; IRIS Researchers have secured the journal to track 18152's both physical and mental development.

08/09/2016

“Not been great lately, I've had cold or flu symptoms for the past two weeks, really has been messing with my focus, not great for when I'm trying to study or play as well as I usually can but I've been pushing through it!

I'm still a bit shaken up from that creepy ass guy from last month- it messed with me. I'm glad IRIS is here to help out with my case tho, hopefully they catch the freak. I keep getting all fidgety and anxious whenever I'm out in public. I mean I guess that's normal after something like that but still, doesn't make it easier. I would hang out with friends to make me feel safer but I don't wanna get them sick, hopefully this'll pass

-R”

15/09/2016

“God my head will not stop pounding, I got my headache about 2 days ago, it started off only occasionally but god it just keeps flaring up and more often. My flu hasn't gotten any better. It makes it hard to do anything, I keep getting by, slowly but surely.

-R”

22/09/2016

“Been bed ridden this week- I thought rest would probably help but, every time I sleep I keep dreaming of that guy- I don't remember it fully and it's probably just some weird trauma thing but he keeps.. I don't really know how to describe it? He keeps warping. I don't know its probably just some dream shit”

29/09/2016

“haven't been able to eat properly.. keep feeling this itch on my neck, its not bad just annoying mostly. My phone hurts my eyes. Keep dreaming of creeper.im sure he didn't actually look like that. Sorry for the bad handwriting, I'm so tired nd my hands hurt. Might try sleeping again”

30/09/2016

“woke up and puked, pretty badly too- dreaming of that guy hurts my head”

05/10/2016

“Really should call a doctor I think. I did call IRIS, I'm sure I did, they said they'd send someone over. No one came- my body hurts, everywhere it's just this dull ache. I might try

and shower or something. I don't know what to do at this point- no ones coming I've waited and waited and no one showed. The itching got worse, I don't know what's wrong with me I just need someone to come help”

“Why is no one answering my calls???”

12/10/2016

“Tried to shower, clumps of my hair just- came out. I just cried something is wrong with me I called IRIS again I told them it was urgent and I need help. The creeper answered me. It couldn't have been real- but it made me throw my phone accidentally. It broke and I can't get it to work again. I can't keep going on like this. The itching keeps spreading too- it now feels like things are crawling in my organs. I can't scratch there”

“Threw up again, mostly blood- it was clumpy, I think it was bits of my throat. It hurts my throat to breathe let alone talk”

16/10/2016

“The man in my room can't be here- I didn't let anyone in, he shouldn't be here”

23/10/2016

“I found out why I feel like there things crawling in me. I threw up a dead bug. The itching keeps going. I think I need to leave”

“I left my apartment. The air stung and I felt everyone's eyes on me. I don't care i just need help”

“IRIS won't let me in. Or near anyone.”

30/10/2016

“They're keeping me here. They keep giving me things. They poked IVs in me- the skin just teared away. It hurt so much, it feels good to actually be given medication. It's not kicked in yet but I think it should soon. The nurse gave me a funny look when I described my creep to him. I don't know, I just wanna sleep”

IRIS Supplemental:

ALTR 181502, previously known as Robert “Robbie” James, was announced as clinically dead to the public on 05/11/2016. Within the IRIS Foundation however it should be known that ALTR 181502, while maintaining a “corpse-like” appearance, is very much alive. IRIS researchers and medics have been working on a plausible theory on the rapid and alarming decline in ATLR 181502’s health after an apparent encounter with ALTR 114209. This variation of effects with 114209 seems to be an outlier. But until a working theory has been confirmed, the containment is highly necessary for both ALTR 181502 and for the wider public. Some IRIS staff have left due to unknown illnesses after contact with ALTR 181502. Their symptoms are yet to be examined but they are all in highly secure quarantine zones until they are confirmed to not be carrying a “Zombie Virus” as the research staff seem to be calling it.

As for ALTR 181502- exact details of his initial encounter with ALTR 114209 are documented in his original report to IRIS. His condition remains unpleasant. And it seems the best we can hope for is to keep him in containment until we understand what's going on.

The journal, as well as the remainder of ALTR 181502's belongings have been quarantined or burned. We managed to digitise his IRIS issued journal for the research sake. In said journal we believe the figure he describes is ALTR 114209- as it is within it's behaviour to torment it's victims while they are in mental distress.

It was discovered, by one such medic, after attempting an autopsy on ALTR 181502, that he is very much no longer human. If the hive of moth larvae that has eaten away at all of his organs have anything to say about it at least. How he still is living, albeit not pleasantly, is about as good a guess as yours as it is mine.

End Supplemental.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

For Taskmaster s18e03, I said I’m not liveblogging that one, because I was exhausted after a long and shitty week that involved a significant spike in anxiety, and once I’d finally reached the weekend and could have some blessed relief from trying to go to work through this, I just wanted to curl up under my weighted blanket and passively consume my comfort show. The week of Taskmaster s18e04, there was no liveblogging because I didn’t watch the episode that week, because I was busy dealing with a significant escalation in the sudden spike in anxiety issues, having panic attacks at work, terrified of losing my job, getting called into a meeting with my boss to discuss my “performance issues” such as [list of anxiety symptoms that included “hand wringing” and “rapid breathing” and other things that I normally try incredibly hard to cover up at work but it turns out that two weeks of being too burned out and anxious to mask is enough to ruin everything], became unable to function for a bit.

Anyway, today there will be liveblogging, because I saw a doctor, got a prescription for new anxiety meds and a note for six weeks of medical leave from work, so suddenly, I have a ridiculous amount of time on my hands, enough time to easily make watching Taskmaster take 2 hours instead of 1 (which is what happens when I stop to liveblog, for some reason, even though it doesn’t seem like it should take that long). My life is an absolute mess, but bright side, there’s time for Taskmaster!

I’ve started and abandoned several different posts in which I explain what’s happened lately, because venting on Tumblr is a go-to resource when I'm having a bad time and want to express that, but while I was in the middle of it I didn’t have the energy to write anything – hence the lack of any posts for a little while – and this one sort of feels too real-world big to share on Tumblr (…I reserve the right to go back on that if I feel differently later this week and want to write a post about how hard it is to be a therapist for autistic and often anxious kids, while trying to appear to be a person who does not have any of these problems of my own). So instead, I’m going to return to Tumblr posting with:

Thoughts on Taskmaster s18e04, written as I watch it (five days late):

- I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the insulting intros where Greg Davies implies Alex Horne is right-wing in a really specific way are the funniest ones.

- My immediate thought after hearing the prize task category: Cobra Kai DVDs. I know a lot of people who say “badass” unironically (I may… occasionally, in the right environment, which is not Tumblr, be one of those people myself), and they all talk exactly like Johnny Lawerence. Karate Kid movies would work as something that actually are badass, but no one uses the word there (the good guys would never use such a word because they’re too busy using the force, which is magical in an only slightly racist way, while the bad guys are too purely evil to say fun stuff like “badass”), Cobra Kai drops some excellent uses of the word in an accurate context.

…I wrote that whole paragraph before remembering that Cobra Kai was released way too recently to be out on DVD. Burn them yourself, then, that’s even better. Piracy is badass.

- Emma Sidi’s prize has big “owned this anyway, wanted to bring it in, found the prize category where she could most easily shoehorn it” energy. But fair enough. If I owned a statue of a baby angel with sunglasses on, and I got called up to Taskmaster, I would do the same.

-

[Sam Campbell voice] I've got nothing but love for the boys from above...

- I get Babatunde's slang ("ends") that confused Greg, because I have seen Ahir Shah's latest stand-up show. I am still unimpressed by sneakers, but I'm pleased that I apparently know more British slang terms than Greg Davies. I feel very cultured.

- Rosie Jones' prize initially had me thinking "I'm sorry, but Josh Widdicombe ruined tattoo-based task fulfillment for everyone else, way back in season one. This would be fine out of context, but in context, no temporary tattoo will ever look any good next to his permanent sacrifice for Taskmaster." But by the end of her explanation, she had me more on board. Threatening to kill someone for a couple of prize task points is pretty good.

-

This has always been true. I'm just sorry it took the TV industry until you were almost 50 years old to realize it, Zaltor the Merciless (by the way, let's bring back that nickname).

- Bad art of a bad ass. I knew you wouldn't let me down, Zaltor. Four episodes in, and his prizes are a sea of lies, puns, and one that's just an historical reference.

- Not fair scoring. Emma and Babatunde's prizes were both better than Jack's.

- Ed mentioned on the podcast that there was a continuous argument with Andy Zaltzman about how far to take the costume, when he wanted it into the realms of the impractical. It appears he won on this day, as he enters the task with not just the helmet on but the face mask down, gloves on, bat in hand. Good day to be Zaltor.

- Oh, I like this. Nice simple task with lots of different ways to interpret it, a bit more time than usual (half an hour is a lot for the UK version, this days). This has the "vibe" of one of the NZ tasks, in a good way.

-

...Jack, are you under the impression that the stuff you've already said about how "identity politics" and "cancel culture" and "mental health problems becoming too fashionable these days" (I might be particularly annoyed about that last one at the moment) are ruining society isn't enough in that direction to make people dislike you? You probably don't need to push the envelope a lot further than that, we get the idea.

-

- I've recently re-watched the TV show Starstruck, and I'm pleased to see that Emma Sidi in real life is the same person as her character on that show.

- ...Zaltor, I would like to apologize for not having assumed that your full costume was complete with the jock strap. Obviously that was there too.

- I like Emma's literal interpretation, but this seems like a case where you maybe do want to steal from previous seasons, perhaps Rob Beckett with the pea. Just put the envelope in a wheelbarrow and push it around the garden for the whole time. Or, if you want to argue that "farthest" means it ends up far away and not just that it moves a lot, leave the grounds and push it down the sidewalk for 30 minutes.

- Now that I know Emma's outfit is meant to be Cluzo, I can see it so clearly. Like I said before, it's a perfect character to invoke. Hey, I've just remembered I have a ridiculous amount of time on my hands for a while, I should actually re-watch those movies.

...Oh God, they're going to be racist, aren't they? I remember that when I was a kid, because I loved the Pink Panther movies so much, my dad showed me another Peter Sellers movie The Party, and I know I definitely should not go back to that one, the racism in that one was overt enough to be quite clear even in my memory ~25 years later. Pink Panther can't be as bad as that, can it? I might have to find out. I'm sure Jack Dee would say that even asking this question is ruining society.

- Oh look! Rosie Jones is making chocolate milk (apparently, according to those barbarians in Britain).

- Oh, no, according to Greg in the studio, it's actually a smoothie. I was joking about it being chocolate milk because it's not actually that, but it's definitely not a smoothie either. British people need to sort out their drinks labels.

- This is a bit weird, but for some reason, this shot of the house before Jack Dee comes outside is the first time since I've started watching this season that I've had a moment of: "Oh my God! I know that place! I saw it! I saw that house!"

Taken when I was in London on July 30, 2024:

I saw it! The little TM on the door! I walked beside those hedges! That's so cool!

- ...I'm not a fan of Jack Dee, and therefore, I'm not a fan of having to admit that he is doing exactly what I saw a few minutes ago I thought would be the correct way to do this task. Down to using the wheelbarrow. Fine, he gets credit for that.

I am, however, a big fan of getting to say: I saw this! I saw that road he's walking down! I walked all along there! If you follow that along the river for about 25 minutes, you get to the bandstands where they did location tasks in the earlier seasons!

Jack Dee:

Taken by me on July 30, 2024:

Annoyingly I don't have a picture of the exact spot where Jack is walking in that picture, slightly further along. But it's pretty close.

- Jack Dee:

My picture:

I mean, that's fucking cool. It's a lovely walk.

- ...Yeah, Jack Dee's attempt was fun. The editors get some credit here too though, nice choice with the music and shooting it like a reflective movie scene.

- This could be a Bugle monologue. The stuff Andy Zaltzman is shouting at that inanimate object, I could absolutely see a character in his Bugle lies shouting that at something. It turns out that Zaltor the Merciless has been pushing the envelope for years!

- Interesting choice for Babatunde to put milk in the envelope and then reveal that he can't drink milk.

- I can't get over how much fun Andy Zaltzman is having on this show.

Closest we'll see Andy come to breaking apart a cow, given that he wasn't there on that one night in 2003.

- That should have been one point for Baba and two for Emma. Emma did push it, just not very far. Baba hardly did anything. A bowl isn't even that different from an envelope, he didn't push it literally and he barely pushed it metaphorically.

- I'd have gone five points to Andy and four to Jack because Andy pushed it in two different ways ("pushed the envelope" into telling him the information, the way a cop might "push" any suspect into a confession; and "pushed the envelope" by using extreme rule-breaking methods to get that confession) while Jack only used one. But they were both good, to be fair, I don't have a big problem with doing it the way Greg did.

- Going with the hot dog costume on a location task, that's an interesting choice. I'd speculate about the logic behind that choice if I thought there was any rhyme or reason to Baba's decisions on this show.

- How appropriate. A creepy Halloween-type task for the creepy abandoned theme park location (since the first episode, I have learned that it is Thorpe Park, which is definitely not abandoned, but they've still done a very good job so far of making it look like a creepy abandoned theme park in the location tasks - a place that seems like enormous fun to run around doing tasks, probably less fun to attend as an actual theme park).

- Laugh all the time and don't walk too fast - I need to take back what I said about them not adapting the tasks for Rosie Jones. This one was clearly created to just be what she does anyway. Good stuff.

- Where are they? Does Thorpe Park have an actual maze, or house of mirrors or something, where they're doing this? Or did they build a whole creepy maze just for this task?

- I love Emma having no time for Alex's bullshit. Nope, not playing your creepy maze game. Let's get out of the horror movie.

- A few attempts in, and I'm getting the impression that this task isn't great for opportunities for the cast to be funny or show creativity, but is mainly made for a lot of opportunities for creepy shots of various people walking around a maze like an horror movie. Which is also fun. Sometimes the editors have to have fun too.

- Wait, they're letting Babatunde get away with that? I watched to the end of the task before writing this, since I assumed they'd penalize him. That was definitely running in the maze, he broke that rule hard. Andy sped up for maybe two seconds right at the end, Baba sped up for ages. They could all have done it in thirty seconds if they'd been allowed to run like that (...except possibly Rosie). Absolute bullshit, especially as it's getting doubled.

- I like "It's a wind-up" turning into a catchphrase for Emma Sidi. Good Taskmaster catchphrase.

- I also enjoy the running theme of Emma Sidi being incredibly supportive of Rosie Jones, all the time, no matter what Rosie is yelling about. I noticed it several times over the first few episodes.

- This is one of those tasks where the criteria is about number of errors rather than "fastest wins", so I'd take ages trying to guess the pattern before starting, and probably run into the fifteen-minute time limit. I'd probably also run around the house looking for clues before picking anything.

- I see Baba and Jack are also borrowing from early seasons, going for the Frank Skinner with the pie approach. Just try to magically sense what's in there with no strategy whatsoever.

- Ohhh, I see. Don't trust sound people and make-up artists becuase they're sneaking a locket into your pocket. To be fair to Baba and Jack I don't know if I'd have gotten that any faster; I was thinking there would be some alphabetical pattern.

- Rosie Jones straight-up robbing the crew. That's why they booked her.

- Oh, that's rough for Rosie, getting penalized for picking five pockets of her own, even after working out that it was on her, before finding the locket. Basically losing out because she happened to choose an outfit that's full of pockets.

- Well I'm pleased that this time it was Andy, not Jack, who had the same instinct as I did. Run around outside the lab, looking for clues, before picking any pockets at all. Unfortunately, it appeared to yield nothing. Good try by bringing in a bit of wood and seeing if he can claim it's a locket, though. I like Alex sounding slightly annoyed when replying "It's not a locket and it wasn't in a pocket." Like he's had enough of Andy's bullshit throughout these tasks.

- Oh, they brought back the Richard Red Herring from season 13! That's fun.

- Alex rolling his eyes after Andy announces "I'll use [my remaining 4.5 minutes] wisely" is pretty funny too. Come on, Zaltor, you can do it! You're so close, by saying you know it needs to be "an alternative pocket".

- This image should be the Taskmaster promo poster:

- Andy's slow journey from being sure he can find useful clues, to trying to come up with lateral locket definitions, to saying he never liked lockets and giving up, is even more of a "tragic old man reflective movie scene" than Jack's walk along the river.

- Emma! Yes, you go, Emma! That's actually quite an Inspector Cluzo move, to not do anything but just accidentally fall into getting the correct answer. I was thinking that during the earlier attempts, too - there must have been time between the crew sneaking it into their pockets, and when they started filming this task. Did these people just never put a hand in their pocket in the intervening time? I'm constantly reaching in my pockets to make sure all my stuff is where it should be. Fucking right, Emma.

- I was thinking this was quite a classic Andy Zaltzman approach, trying to come up with a new definition for "locket", but I had no idea how Zaltzman he'd gone until he revealed in the studio that he considered checking in a snooker club.

This was what I wanted when the season 18 names were first announced - to get the joy of seeing people who don't already know Andy Zaltzman, react to Andy Zaltzman. But I was thinking about seeing that on Tumblr, and maybe occasionally having a peek at the subreddit. It hadn't thought about how much fun it would be just to look at the contestants' faces, such as these ones when Andy explains that he thought the answer might be snooker:

I've been hugely enjoying Emma in the studio throughout this season. Her defences of her own prizes and task attempts are always fun, very eager and earnest and insistent. I also like how quick she is to jump in and defend Rosie Jones all the time. And it's fun how she seems to frequently be the opposite of Andy, just shocked that he could ever think any of this is a good idea. (A view that she confirmed on last week's podcast, saying she called Andy a prick in the studio even though she basically agreed with him, but "He was annoying me.")

- Even more references to older seasons in the live task, with Patatas the cat being back once again. I briefly wondered if that monster is the one from the season 10 live task, but I've checked that task description and it's not the same.

- ...Have now finished watching the live task, still don't really understand what was meant to happen. I guess they were supposed to take longer than that to get to 22. I also guess that live tasks are the only ones they can't drop from the edit if they turn out not to work. All right. These things happen.

- Well that was a good time. Can't wait to hear Andy on the podcast explain why he never puts his hands in his pockets. And the nice thing about having a breakdown that delays my Taskmaster watching by five days is I only have to wait two for the next one! That's good.

[redbleedingrose]

Rambles and Updates from Rose!

Hi my baby’s!!!!!

As yall know, I’ve been on a hiatus bc med school got super and I had to take a big board exam. Well, I am here to announce that I finished taking step 2 this week!

Please please please send me all the positive good vibes and prayers yall have. I’m gonna start applying for residency (which is your job after med school) this year and I’m hoping to match in March. I will ofc as always, keep yall updated.

I feel like a piece of me was stolen while studying for these exams and I was extremely depressed and anxious. This is a common experience that medical students and doctors feel on a daily basis.

So…

I’m here to say, that I’m back from my hiatus! I want to start writing again slowly!!!!! If yall have requests, please send them in! I miss my girl dad eris and Az and Rhys.

Love yall soooo much. I’m soooo excited to be back!! And I’m so excited to get back into writing! I’ll try to start this week <3

Love,

Rosie 💞

[mariana-oconnor]

The Illustrious Client pt 3

Had a busy weekend, so I'm one behind again, but where were we?

A hypnotised woman, a man so evil he wants everyone to know about it and he keeps a special scrapbook of his favourite evil moments for him to read in bed at night when he can't sleep. My favourite character is probably not going to be in it again, seeing as she failed to convince the guy's latest victim that he's a murdering arsehole, but I really hope she gets to stamp his face in with her boot. Y'know. As a treat.

Oh, and then someone tried to kill Holmes. There was a cliffhanger. I almost forgot about that.

The Illustrious Client on whose behalf Sherlock Holmes was consulted was anxious to prevent the marriage of the young, rich and beautiful Miss Violet de Merville to Baron Gruner, an unscrupulous adventurer.

Given some of the descriptions Watson has given of perfectly nice clients, I feel like 'unscrupulous adventurer' is such a milquetoast way of putting this. And also rather offensive to adventurers.

“I'm a bit of a single-stick expert, as you know. I took most of them on my guard. It was the second man that was too much for me.”

See, this is why I don't get why everyone insists on Watson being the action man of the pair. Holmes is out there whacking people with sticks. Watson occasionally shoots a dog.

No, I'm never going to be over that.

"They'll come to you for news. Put it on thick, Watson. Lucky if I live the week out—concussion—delirium—what you like! You can't overdo it.”

This is a definite step up from The Dying Detective where Holmes was convinced that if Watson knew he wasn't dying, he'd never be able to convince anyone of it. Has Watson's acting got better or has Holmes just realised that pretending to be dying is a dick move? Something tells me it isn't the first option. I don't think it's the second, either, if I'm honest. I feel like Holmes needs Watson to do something. But still, not lying to your best friend about dying. So proud of you.

“Yes. Tell Shinwell Johnson to get that girl out of the way. Those beauties will be after her now."

If anything bad happens to Kitty, I riot.

He pushed to an extreme the axiom that the only safe plotter was he who plotted alone.

Even so, he's still doing way better than he used to. We're all very proud of him.

It was simply that among the passengers on the Cunard boat Ruritania, starting from Liverpool on Friday, was the Baron Adelbert Gruner, who had some important financial business to settle in the States before his impending wedding to Miss Violet de Merville...

Apparently it was almost a week to get to the States on a liner in those days, which is less time than I thought, but also quite a while to spend travelling (2 weeks, there and back) right before your wedding. The wedding is not that imminent, I guess.

"Now, Watson, I want you to do something for me.” “I am here to be used, Holmes.”

“Well, then, spend the next twenty-four hours in an intensive study of Chinese pottery.” He gave no explanations and I asked for none. By long experience I had learned the wisdom of obedience.

On the one hand, this also shows growth, on the other, blindly following Holmes' instructions seems like a terrible idea in so. many. ways. But y'know, whatever floats their boats. Ours not to kink shame.

I was sucking in knowledge and committing names to memory. There I learned of the hall-marks of the great artist-decorators, of the mystery of cyclical dates, the marks of the Hung-wu and the beauties of the Yung-lo, the writings of Tang-ying, and the glories of the primitive period of the Sung and the Yuan.

“It needs careful handling, Watson. This is the real egg-shell pottery of the Ming dynasty. No finer piece ever passed through Christie's. A complete set of this would be worth a king's ransom..."

Will the priceless historic china survive? That's the real question.

"You may as well be a medical man, since that is a part which you can play without duplicity. You are a collector, this set has come your way, you have heard of the Baron's interest in the subject, and you are not averse to selling at a price.”

OK. okayokayokayokayokay. No.

If this guy knows who Holmes is. Then he should, therefore, know who Watson is, too. We have even had, in this very story, evidence that supports that because the colonel (whose name I can't remember right now) was like 'yes, of course Dr Watson should be involved toodle pip." (I added the toodle pip part, but the rest was accurate enough.)

So surely the guy who arranged for Holmes to be murdered - who is apparently tracking down Kitty to murder her, too - surely he should know who Watson is. Therefore either this is a double bluff and Holmes is knowingly sending Watson into a danger that has already tried to claim his own life or he doesn't think that his opponent is smart enough to connect his enemy to their best friend who writes about them frequently and who has been visiting him daily since the attack.

If he turns out to be right and the baron doesn't recognise Watson immediately, I will be further annoyed at his incompetence.

On the same evening, with the precious saucer in my hand and the card of Dr. Hill Barton in my pocket, I set off on my own adventure.

Oh really? Like... an adventurer, would you say?

The place had been built by a South African gold king in the days of the great boom, and the long, low house with the turrets at the corners, though an architectural nightmare, was imposing in its size and solidity.

Glad to see Watson turning his scathing judgements to architecture as well as people. It was... it was a very solid building. It had that going for it.

He was certainly a remarkably handsome man. His European reputation for beauty was fully deserved. In figure he was not more than of middle size, but was built upon graceful and active lines. His face was swarthy, almost Oriental, with large, dark, languorous eyes which might easily hold an irresistible fascination for women. His hair and moustache were raven black, the latter short, pointed, and carefully waxed. His features were regular and pleasing, save only his straight, thin-lipped mouth. If ever I saw a murderer's mouth it was there—a cruel, hard gash in the face, compressed, inexorable, and terrible. He was ill-advised to train his moustache away from it, for it was Nature's danger-signal, set as a warning to his victims.

Oh my god. Watson. Watson. Quite being so horny on main. I am begging you. Stop ogling the man. And he can't help the way his moustache is away from his mouth - it's all the twirling.

"I would ask you what do you know of the Emperor Shomu and how do you associate him with the Shoso-in near Nara? Dear me, does that puzzle you? Tell me a little about the Northern Wei dynasty and its place in the history of ceramics.” I sprang from my chair in simulated anger.

Watson. Watson. My dude. My man. My good sir. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK was the point of you learning everything there is to know about Chinese pottery if you're not even going to bother to answer his motherfucking questions? What even is this? What was the point? WHY?

I mean, I'm pretty sure he knew who you were from the moment you sent the letter but even so. Even so! I can't get annoyed about him not committing to the bit when you're out here not even trying to commit to any of it.

Two steps took me to the open door, and my mind will ever carry a clear picture of the scene within. The window leading out to the garden was wide open. Beside it, looking like some terrible ghost, his head girt with bloody bandages, his face drawn and white, stood Sherlock Holmes.

Well, I was right. It was a double bluff. Watson was the distraction, cool cool. He was rubbish at it, but at least Holmes knew he was going to fail.

An arm—a woman's arm—shot out from among the leaves. At the same instant the Baron uttered a horrible cry—a yell which will always ring in my memory. He clapped his two hands to his face and rushed round the room, beating his head horribly against the walls. Then he fell upon the carpet, rolling and writhing, while scream after scream resounded through the house.

The features which I had admired a few minutes before were now like some beautiful painting over which the artist has passed a wet and foul sponge.

So that's why you went on about how hot he was. For the contrast. Gotcha.

Obviously this is terrible and throwing acid in people's faces is awful and horrible etc.

On the other hand, I support Kitty Winter and she's never done anything wrong ever in her life.

"It was that hell-cat, Kitty Winter!”

“It is his love diary?”

You say that like it's a normal thing.

???

"I knew I had only a few minutes in which to act, for my time was limited by your knowledge of Chinese pottery."

Holmes' perennial lack of faith in Watson's abilities is as sad as it is earned.

But he didn't even use his knowledge of Chinese pottery. He didn't even try.

“But if these injuries are as terrible as Dr. Watson describes, then surely our purpose of thwarting the marriage is sufficiently gained without the use of this horrible book.”

Wow, you think very little of Violet. I also think very little of her, but honestly, I'm pretty sure this isn't a deal breaker for her. Just say you think she's shallow and fickle, why don't you?

The same paper had the first police-court hearing of the proceedings against Miss Kitty Winter on the grave charge of vitriol-throwing. Such extenuating circumstances came out in the trial that the sentence, as will be remembered, was the lowest that was possible for such an offence.

Good for her.

...when an object is good and a client is sufficiently illustrious, even the rigid British law becomes human and elastic.

YAY! CORRUPTION!!

🥳🥳🥳

What a weird note to end it on. But the day was saved, I guess. Weirdly as it was. Violet de Merville presumably went on to continue to be a supercilious nightmare of a woman and Baron Adelbert Gruner was punished with *checks notes* disfigurement and blindness... so I guess that's a happy ending?

idek.

I'm glad Kitty got to fuck him up, though. That was very satisfying.

[abs0luteb4stard]

To my friend Niko. 💙🩷🤍🩷💙

I'll never know if it was an accidental OD or intentional suicide or what... I was lucky a friend of his was kind enough to tell me that he died. I was too afraid to ask anymore of a stranger. It had been weeks or months of inactivity before I was told. My suspicions were confirmed. Utterly shocked.

That's what happens with long-distance internet friends sometimes. He fucking died just months before my dad's series of medical events that put him into vascular dementia. Now It's been 7 years.

He felt like a soul friend sometimes. So much fun little things in common, coincidences, sadnesses. He got me into TØP, which I can't bring myself to listen to anymore. 🫤 It's not the same without his joy about new songs.

He was the sweetest person. I wish he'd have been able to make his trip here to visit his friend or s/o. My mom and me would've tried to make the trip a few states over to at least say hello give him a hug. He had new yellow suitcase and everything. 😢 It's still unbelievable.

He even liked me enough to tell me his 'dead name'. I forgot it, because Niko was who I knew.🤷🏻‍♂️ But I realized it was a very special trusting thing.

This will never not bother me. It haunts me.

He was always open to talking about being trans, transitioning, and taught me a lot. He cleared a lot of purely innocent misconceptions and ignorance about being trans that I had.

And My dad, who was probably 75ish when I started talking to Niko. My dad had a meager education in 1940s Europe. He was still very accepting and interested in his life, his safety. And was even hurt when I told my dad Niko had been bullied at school like me growing up. Even before his realization that he was transgender. He had a stutter and was smaller than the other kids. That really bothered my dad.

And my mom always asked about him. She always feels motherly for my friends. But Niko had some less than perfect relationship with his mom. And my mom felt heartbroken by that.

So I felt like Niko made a difference for our family just being an open book and a sweetheart. I wish I had the chance to have long in person talks with him one day and share more pictures of our families. Sadly, that'll never come. And I've already forgotten a lot of our texts and things.

He left a hole in my life right when things got incredibly difficult and dark and painful in a lot of horrible ways.

I had support, but he had a special sort of way about him. As shy and anxious as he was, he was a social butterfly through our penpal friendship.

He had his top surgery. He had to wait almost a year. We were so happy.

He sent me this nice picture of him smiling at the hospital with the sun's rays flowing in onto him. It's almost like a dream now.

I guess if there's an afterlife, my dad and uncle are looking out for him from any bullies. And Niko has the body he was meant to all along.

But I often wonder if the difficulties with acceptance didn't contribute to his death through medicating himself. Again, I'll never know. But his death was unnecessary in my eyes even if I didn't have the full story. Because not being unconditionally loved and accepted kills people too. Not being concerned in healthy, helpful ways kills people, too.

But I think he should be remembered today too because he contributed to the change he wanted in the world by being who he was to me, and I would also learn how he was to many other people.

At least I know he changed my world and my parents' world. He is why we don't just accept transpeople in a closeted backseat way.

He is why I am openly vocal for acceptance and caring about transpeople, being their friends. And protecting transgender people.

It was such a strange coincidence again that his favorite band TØP would make a song with his namesake just 2-3 years after he died. It was poetic and sad.

I hope you found peace. 🖤🏳️‍⚧️

[beesinspades]

I'm 3 months and 2 weeks on T now and I'm sooooo happy with it :D the first two months and then some were SLOW, so much so if it wasn't for one thing and the (temporary) side effects of the hormonal mess, I would've thought it wasn't working lol

but over the past month I've started really seeing changes!!

my voice started dropping, I can hear a difference with my voice pre-t!

I'm already growing facial hair on my neck and chin. at this rate I'll hopefully be one of the lucky ones with something decent before the end of my first year on T hehe

my belly is getting hairier

I think my face shape has started to change but that's harder to tell

so yeah I'm really happy because so far I'm getting nice changes and I haven't been plagued with being hungry, hot and horny. no mood changes either or anything. I don't feel any different from before T besides feeling more confident in my appearance. and I still have some palpitations when I lie down to go to bed in the evening and still in bed in the morning but I saw a cardiologist with echography and EKG and I'm good so it's likely the hormones. it was much worse before my third shot when we increased the dose.

also I don't know if it's related but before T I would get really nauseous (at the base of the neck rather than the stomach, idk how to explain it) at least once every three weeks or so, most of the time when I woke up in the morning and then it went away once I got up and went about my day. a week or so after I started T it got worse as in it started happening more frequently, at night too, and sometimes lasted throughout the day. then towards the end of the sixth week, before my third shot, it got so bad for like five days I thought I was gonna die hahaha but same as the palpitations improving, we did the third shot at full dose instead of half and the nausea disappeared. I haven't had a single instance of it since. so?¿?¿??? (both these things were already there before but probably made worse by a medication I started taking a little after going on T though. I stopped taking it as well)

anyways, I did two shots by myself so far, the first one went perfectly well and the second one I felt like passing out but it was likely because I did it in the morning right out of my hot shower sjdkln I lied down for 20 minutes and then felt fine again.

also I got the results of my check-up blood test yesterday and my T levels have very nicely increased (I'm at like 55) and everything else is normal :3

I'm a liiittle anxious because "oh my god what if I'm doing a mistake" but I'm really looking forward to the next few months!!!

but also WELP because besides my sister my family doesn't know. my mother hasn't called me in a month so odds that she'll notice something next time she calls me are not nonexistent and it's Not going to go well and I'm wholly unprepared for that conversation

next week I'm having lunch with my godmother whom I last saw on the day I started T, so that should be interesting too....she's always been supportive and nonjudgmental (to my face at least hahaha) but also given that she believes in the woke agenda I have no idea if HRT is going too far for her. wait and see :')

as for my dad, I'm frankly starting to wonder if he's just pretending not to have noticed anything. the voice I can get because he talks to me everyday so without a direct comparison it's not impossible that he hasn't noticed. but the facial hair??? I have way more than before and it's surprising he hasn't commented on it. anyway. either way the moment my mother knows he's probably gonna be made aware too.

anyway. excitement but also Fear

[nishloves]

my rant

tw: talks about weight increase, low self-esteem, moderate anxiety, procrastinating tendencies. this is also extremely long.

i just really need to talk/vent about it.

the worst part about being a "casual" gamer is, you never know when you might get addicted with it. i play genshin and CoD, while cod doesn't interest me as much anymore and i only ever played genshin for like twice a month but recently- genshin has been taking over lol, i played 3 hours of genshin alone yesterday and mind you- i've already finished all the archon (main) quests and i'm still playing it!!! (this is called procrastination)

and this is not just limited to computer games no, i once was obsessed with aerobics gymnastics and was practising it all around my house (before corona struck and i physically became unable to do many tricks cue *decreasing flexibility/strength/stamina and everything after i got sick. after aerobics, my hyper-fixation was basketball and i would play it for around 2-3 hours everyday, my body slowly started getting better and my love for sports and gym was ignited again but then i entered into the senior year of my school and i had to inevitably focus more on my studies because i still can't see myself being an athlete/sportsperson even though i really love sports.

now, i was a science major in my high-school (my core were - phy, chem and bio) and i had always been a hardworker but i started getting burnt out, the more i strayed away from staying active and being fit, the more of couch potato i became. i somehow started studying nicely again, but got corona in sept.2022 and was on bedrest for two weeks, my schedule was a mess again. during that time, it were only my high-school extracurriculars (anchoring, debating, basketball, student council) which were keeping me happy along with a few friends (who in future became insecure of everything i was doing and shut me off by calling me "fake", that shit hurt.) and because i had missed 2 weeks of school and was already behind the syllabus by myself because of improper time management, so i developed anxiety- i only realised this after i had a mental breakdown in school for 2 minutes which i wasn't able to control instantly. (my anxiety is moderate and i don't need any medicines for it- i just need to keep my schedule productive and avoid procrastination.) i realised that i was quite behind and that i needed to do something so i did, i shut myself off and studied for 3 months without any outside exposure or anything- but that made me gain weight, from a 54kg 5'7 girl, i went on to a 68kg and because i got sick just immediately after, my weight increased to 70kgs. now, don't get me wrong- i love my body, i still like the way i look but, i don't feel healthy and i don't think you can understand how nerve-wrecking it is for a person who could run 5km without a worry pant after 500m. it was really... and i mean really heart-braking, more than my weight gain, it was my inability to do anything which made me more and more insecure about myself.

my anxiety, my newly acquired low self-esteem were adding fuel to my already procrastinating tendencies.

now. that is the main issues- i am a procrastinator, and for some reason i'm unable to fully get out of it and i get even more anxious when my days are going unproductive which they are!

i didn't score bad in my high-school finals, my scores of normal college entrance exams were good enough to fetch me into a top 3 college of our nation for b.sc but- i didn't want that. even though all my other exams went well, i seriously fucked up my medical entrance examination. i thought to take a drop year but im seriosuly scared because i don't think i did anything fruitful this year and i just feel like i wasted an year of my life and my main exams are in 4 months and im really really getting stressed out because the selection rate is only the top 1-2% among 2 million applicants, talk about competition lmao.

see, i am aware that i can do it, i don't know if it is arrogance or optimism but i know that if i really do give it all- my blood, sweat and tears and everything- i know that i'll do better, i will be able to score enough to get a medical college- but the thing is, i feel like i am scared to start and i don't want to be.

i want to- i need to work hard to better than my present-self, i need to work out to get my stamina, strength and flexibility back. and even if i fail- i atleast worked hard, i just don't want to regret anything which i am doing, i need to get out of this slump and i need to convince myself to get up and atleast try everyday. because i seriously seriously think that regret is probably the worst emotion you could feel and i don't want to spend my life regretting my decisions.

i just- had to get it off my chest lol. thankyou for reading this all.

i promise you, i'll be a great doctor one day and will clear this exam with every courage i am able to muster.

i guess... that is all? have a nice day and take care of yourself!

[jennycouldyoucomebackhome]

KILLJOY OC POSTING HOURS

This episode: Thunderclap and Dust Devil

SO. Who are they? How did they get here? And why did I make art of them sleeping in a run down convenience store?

To start us off, if you want more background details about them, you can check HERE for my introductory post about these characters. But to summarize the post for those who don’t want to look, Dust and Thunder met when they were teenagers. Dust was a desert kid and Thunder was a recent Battery City runaway. They become friends and partners, eventually picking up 2 kids, Acid Lightning and Storm Angel, years later.

Content Warnings for this post include mentions/talk of:

-Danger Days Canon Typical Violence

-implied torture (love putting my beloved blorbos through hell)

-temporary/incorrectly assumed character death

-trauma and nightmares

With all that out of the way, let’s get started!!

Dust Devil (ve/gho): -25 years old -Unlabeled (as I put it in one doc, queer as in fuck you and the horse you rode in on, I don't play by your rules) -Minor joint pain from various past injuries (mostly in wrists and knees) -About 6'1"

Dust is the kind of person who feels emotions very deeply, and vir emotions tend to cloud vir judgement and drive vir decisions. Ve is stubborn, hardheaded, and a tad temperamental. However, gho's also caring, empathetic, protective, and intelligent.

(I did not intentionally give vir two killjoy slang terms for death in vir name and pronouns, but i have definitely taken advantage of possible lore implications since realizing)

Thunderclap (he/him): -24 years old -Gay, Trans man, Greyromantic -Joint Hypermobility (basically think hEDS and those associated problems) -About 5'10"

Thunder has a kind heart, which is both a strength and a weakness. He's always jumping to help people in need, but that sometimes lends itself to putting his own safety on the line. He's quick-thinking, clever, and fiercely protective, though he's also anxious, and tends to ruminate on bad things that happened to him.

After picking up the kids, at the time Battery Acid and Rosie, things stayed fairly stable for a while. Rosie picked up the name Storm Angel. Everything seemed like it was going well for them.

Then it all went wrong. The four of them were hunting for anything usable in a junkyard when they were attacked by an exterminator leading a sizable unit of dracs. Acid and Angel drove away while Dust and Thunder held them off. Dust got knocked unconscious at some point, and when ve came to, Thunder was nowhere to be found. He was presumed dead after around a week where nobody was able to find him.

Dust was kind of consumed by rage and grief after that. Gho kind of disappeared, wandering through the inner zones and getting into fights. Gho spent around three months like this before something changed.

Gho was near an old gas station in Zone 1 when ve saw a group of people scrambling and shouting. They were looking for their medical supplies because someone was wandering around bleeding and in a daze and passed out nearby. To vir surprise, it was Thunderclap. By some miracle of the Witch, he was alive. He was in really bad shape. He almost looked like he was dead, but he was alive.

He woke up a few days later, and after a whole lot of crying, the two started driving towards Zone 4, where they planned to lay low with the Blackbirds for a little while while he was healing. Only problem is that someone else was staying there at the time: Lithium Star and their gang. Dust had grown up with Lithium Star (they/them), a young adult with anger issues, highlighter yellow hair, and at least 3 facial piercings. They had never exactly been friendly with each other, and Lith seemed to love insulting and antagonizing vir. Dust and Thunder were there for less than a minute before Lith was getting on vir nerves.

Regardless, they stayed, and quickly found out that both of them had trauma responses and ✨nightmares✨ because SURPRISE! the last few months had been pretty damn traumatic for the both of them. Thunder ended up opening up about what had happened to him.

He’d been taken to the city and subjected to countless BL/Ind re-education videos and experiments. He didn’t know what the experiments were for and figured that was something to be thankful for. He had no clue why they hadn’t just made him a draculoid and been done with it.

Dust still had nightmares about the day in the junkyard, replaying the moment where ve was sure Thunder had died over and over again. Gho had trouble opening up about emotions after everything, feeling like gho had to be strong for Thunder.

They cried some more, and there was a lot of hugging. Even though they’d been through hell and back, they were back together now. they would be okay

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Amara's Day 2

We started today off with the goal of teaching a young lady about choices! Most important choice? Indoors or Outdoors. But there have been others along the way.

Amara needed to be carried out this morning to the yard for potty time, because she was feeling really anxious about leaving her overnight nest. She'd had an accident overnight without waking us, and I think was feeling scared of how we'd react. When we need to carry her somewhere, we've been establishing consent first to make sure she knows it's safe. Mostly that looks like keeping a respectful distance and offering her the back of our hand or finger tips to sniff. If she leans in and gives a lick, we'll go ahead and approach and pet her a little. If she turns away or growls, we'll drop the hand and try again after a few minutes, usually with a treat. If she takes the treat from our hand, we can pet, but if she waits for it to be on the ground, we give her some space until she seeks out a sniff. Once we're able to pet her without triggering any discomfort, we'll scoop her up with her legs and hind quarters supported and carry her where we need to bring her.

While that *was* how Amara got out to the yard this morning, we were able to get her to return indoors voluntarily! It took about 30min of back and forth before she wasn't afraid to let me close the back door again with her inside, but moving her water bowl and a dish of ground rabbit into the kitchen helped.

Medical observations for today so far are as follows:

Amara is chronically dehydrated (indicated by thinning of skin, poor elasticity, dry nose without heat, etc) and underweight (indicated by manual evaluation of ribs and hips, and full weight while carried) with possible malnutrition. She's eating and drinking well while here, indicating this is likely related to access rather than apetite.

Care plan accommodation: morning meal consisting of wet food, evening meal consisting of kibble moistened with nutritional supplement, and consistent access to her own bowl of water with added electrolytes. Duration 1-2 weeks, or until sufficiently hydrated to see physical improvement. Feed at rate of current weight plus 20% per meal after first week (first week refeeding up to rate for current weight in 1 cup intervals 2x-4x daily as sought) and until rib and hip bones are less sharply visible/felt under the skin.

We've made a lot of trust building progress, and currently Amara will seek out brief affection by seeking the consent process and licking as her affirmative. She also climbed up on the bed for a bit while humans and other animals were on it! She mostly prefers not to be touched, and gets nervous around sudden movements, but she has been able to coexist in shared spaces with the dogs, cats, and people largely without issue today!

She makes a BIG SIGH whenever she relaxes in a cozy spot, and she crosses her front paws just like Jaxxine does.

We're gonna try the outside again voluntarily soon and see if she's up for it, but first I have to get dinner started (harissa-tahini gravy with wilted greens over meatballs served inside of baked sweet potatoes bowls) so I can leave it to simmer while I supervise the pups. I'm hoping the kitchen time will help with the gradual adjustment back outside since it's an in-between space.

I think even if we don't get to bath time until later this week, we can still call today a victory if she goes in and out willingly and starts to learn the potty schedule. I'm going to mix a spray tonight and try to use tomorrow for introducing her to the curry comb so we can work towards cleaning her wounds and completing a more thorough physical exam.

[bluebudgie]

random ask and dunno if you said this anywhere else before, but how did Lahpp and Luqqah end up together? How was their relationship?

Lahpp seems the kinda guy who doesn't know where to start with anything romantic and somehow fell into it without knowing why (and why Luq went for him in the first place), and I'm curious to know.

Hi anon!! Glad you ask :> (Edit from Future-Budgie who has answered the ask: Oops this got long! Enjoy, I hope.)

They were assigned to work on the same project together in Thaumanova, a fairly standard asura tale I imagine.

The first time they met was... memorable for Lahpp at the very least. So he's introducing himself in the most proper way imaginable, mentions that he wonders if he hasn't seen her before - they did both go to Statics but considering he's a few years older they never shared classes directly. Still, might have crossed each other at some point.

Now Luqqah's introduction is essentially "Oh. You. I know about you. I looked through your medical records as part of a thesis-" Which, considering Lahpp's been trying his damn hardest to keep his medical history a secret from pretty much everyone at all costs, kinda makes him want to dematerialize on the spot. Until a second later... "Ultimately I decided to study someone else's case, yours was too mundane. Nice to meet you."

And for a moment he's not sure if he should be offended that she has the audacity to imply everything he's struggled with all life long is too mundane but... quite frankly he's just relieved to know she doesn't care. His biggest fear, dismantled right there. Off to a great start!

--

So they start working together in the following weeks, work goes really smooth, communication's spot on, they find out they've got some interests in common (mainly music theory), the chemistry's just right, you know. No pun intended. So they decide to give it a go, why not after all? They're stuck together for a while anyway.

Suboptimal decision, as they'll find out later. Their relationship is... a mixed bag. Platonically they're absolutely on the same wavelength, no issues here. Now the whole romance and intimacy part on the other hand.... ...that's pretty damn miserable. I'll leave the details up to your imagination but let's say there's... not much going on. For a good while they try, talk it over and over, really - Luqqah especially is invested - but it's so, so awkward everytime.

They still have amazing quality time sharing hobbies in the little spare time they've got allocated but unfortunately the longer the Awkward Romance drags on the more it seeps into the rest of their relationship and just... kinda sours the overall experience a little. Apparently not enough for either of them to end it. Perhaps it's the underlying fear of losing a good friend.

--

So they're in this kinda miserable "we would really be off better as friends" relationship for what... 2... 3 years? Luqqah goes having a little affair in the meantime (Inquisitor Dunnh, anyone?), time goes on, and on a fairly mundane but fateful day (that I won't describe in further detail now because this is already getting too long once again) Lahpp finally has the realization that'll free them both: "Oh I'm gay."

At this point he really doesn't wait much longer and just sits Luqqah down to have a talk. He feels like he owes her a quick end now and not waste her time much longer.

And he's so anxious. The generally collected, at this point fairly well-adjusted guy is stammering his soul out of his body dancing around the actual break up. Starting with the all time classic "I promise it's not your fault" and going into long-winded spirals of "you still mean a lot to me, but..." Lots of apologetic blah-blah that's going nowhere. Very unlike him. Anyway, Luqqah decides to gently cut him off with "Just get to the point." Well, turns out he thinks he may be gay. She stares. It's quiet for a moment. She smiles. "Well that explains a lot."

It's still a little awkward for a few weeks after that, but they remain close friends. Their relationship gets better. More relaxed. Oh, and Luqqah does tell Lahpp she cheated on him. He doesn't hold it against her.

And then some time later the reactor blows up and they go completely separate ways. After 10 long years they meet again during the events of End of Dragons in Cantha :>

[ninasbooknook]

vent post 🫶🏼 (tw skin picking, ocd, anxiety, mention of blood)

2 weeks ago i started taking adhd medication. this is my first time on this type of medication so i expected some new side effects but i feel like my mental health has changed sort of drastically since i started taking them. i have had a past of OCD traits but i have never been tested. i have an anxiety disorder and i haven’t been fully diagnosed but i am taking medication for that and my depression.

so my anxiety has spiked since taking the adhd medication. before the medication i was actually doing really well with anxiety and depression. i hadn’t had that general anxiety feeling in a long time. and then it came back. yk that feeling where you feel anxious/worried but you don’t have anything in particular that you’re worried about? that’s what i mean by “general anxiety feeling”. so that was one of the first signs of my anxiety spiking bc it was just there. i could sense it. next was the nausea. i have different feelings of nausea and i have been able to label all of them over the years. the nausea i have been feeling is my well known anxiety nausea. again, there was nothing making me worried. although i was starting to get a little worried around this time because i was really struggling with communication so it was hard to tell people how i was feeling. it’s made my social life really hard. but i wasn’t necessarily overthinking this when i got that anxiety nausea. next was the obsession with my fingers. i could not stop picking the skin around my nails. i hate the little bits of skin that stick out. it looked bad and it made me uncomfortable somehow. so i’d pick it. and i’d pick it again and again until all my fingers had scabs/infection or were bleeding. i felt so bad. i didn’t want to keep picking but i couldn’t help it. even though it made me feel worse for picking my skin, it make me feel a bit better. it relieves some of the anxiety. that’s how i felt at least. it was a distraction from the things around me. i realised i actually liked the pain sometimes. this worried me. i’m not the type of person that hurts themselves as a coping mechanism. but the pain felt good. like i deserved it.

i started using the app “i am sober”. it’s been sort of helpful. so today i was so close to reaching the 3rd day milestone. i was so proud of myself. at school i planned with my bf to go to his house. one, because i love hanging out with him and two, i never feel anxious at his house and atm i’ve been opting for the “stress-free” option ofc. turns out i couldn’t come over. i was really disappointed but i sucked it up and went home. me and my bf were kind of pissed and i felt like he was a bit annoyed at me which didn’t make me feel any better (he wasn’t annoyed at me btw). i get home and i remember that i broke a nail at school and my nails are uneven now. as much as i’ve been trying to avoid going anywhere near my finger nails, i realise my finger nails are getting in the way of my mouse pad giving my finger tips a weird feeling.

fast forward 3 hours. i spent 3 fucking hours, trimming, cutting and filing my nails. i picked at the sides of my fingers with the nail clippers trying to remove any dead skin that might show up later (which i hate). i attempted to remove my cuticles because i just couldn’t get them even. i picked at the side of one of my fingers so much it began to bleed. i hated myself. i realised then that i’d lost my streak of not picking my skin. i had been doing so well and then i ruin it all. which is untrue, i didn’t really ruin it all. but that’s how i felt. still, i kept picking. it had been around 2 hours and i hadn’t even finished a whole hand of fingers. by 3 hours i’d completed one hand. the only thing that stopped me from continuing my picking was the call that dinner was being served and after dinner my bf called me. he knew i wasn’t ok. i wanted to leave the call but he begged me to stay. i can’t say no to him. the feeling that i need to finish the other hand is still lingering in the back of my mind but i don’t want to upset or disappoint my bf.

tonight i felt like hurting myself. there were scissors on my bed i used on my nails earlier. i imagined what it would feel like on my skin. i hate myself for admitting that i was going to hurt myself if my bf wasn’t on the phone with me at the time. i pray i wouldn’t have been brave enough to do it anyway. i felt like i deserved it. to be in pain.

anyways my lovely bf made me feel better just be being there. we didn’t talk, he listened to me and when i stopped talking we sat in silence. but he was there and that’s what matters. if we wasn’t there i might have done something id extremely regret. i also think i might have had a panic attack if he wasn’t there to calm me down. i love him 🫶🏼

i realised later that when i wanted to go to my bf's house it was like my body was warning me that the anxiety was going to be bad. that the picking was going to be bad. it's not bad at his house so my brain wanted to go there. maybe i'm reading into this too much but the way i felt when i realised ii couldn't go to his house wasn't just disappointment. it was worry and stress. i felt like i needed to go to his house.

if you read all of this, bless your heart 😭🫶🏼 if you have any similar experiences or thoughts on this lmk!! could this be ocd or is it something else?

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 - nina's book nook 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

[whumpshaped]

I'm probably super late & no pressure to respond but I want to share a scar story! (Maybe it can inspire writers who want to read a firsthand experience about some OUCHITY OUCH pain.)

I have a tiny straight line of a scar along the nail of my big toe. But the interesting bit is just, the painful part tbh. It's wild but might be squick. So again, no need to respond or read it all. Bail if it gets too squick. Nothing life threatening or gorey, just big ouchers.

(CW: I had a Matrixectomy/partial nail removal. But he forgot the local anesthetic.)

I was like 14 yrs old and had a really infected spot on my toe where my nail had become ingrown that kept getting infected again if I stubbed my toe etc. so my mom took me to a medical clinic & they performed a Matrixectomy. But without a local anesthetic.

So it's one nurse, one doctor guy and my mom. He just gets right to it after all of the tools are brought out and was pushing teeny mini scissors/cutters into the infected skin area that was really tender and painful by just barely walking on it, cutting a straight line on my nail to the base of the nail to remove the problem area. With No injection for numbing. I was like a 90lb stickboy of a beanpole but my mom had to help the nurse hold my legs down bc it was so hard to stay still and not roll around in pain. I tried not to cry too much and didn't scream bloody murder because I didn't want to inconvenience the doctor or freak my mom out but that shit HURT. Then he applied the acid with a q-tip or something that scars the area so the nail in that section doesn't grow back. That also hurt.

Once it was over I sat up and nearly passed out so they had to make me lay back down, & brought me a wet towel for my forehead. Once I was good to get up we walk out the door to pay or whatever, idr, I just know I almost passed out in the hall on the way to the counter, and then one more time in the parking lot before I got in the car to go home. The gauze was so tight my toe was throbbing, I was literally just writhing in pain on my mom's bed for 1 or 2 hrs till I loosened the wrapping and the pain finally went down enough that I could sleep it off with an Ibuprofen.

A couple weeks later the nail still curled into my skin and got infected again. 🫠 I nearly cried when I saw the pus it was gross and I didn't want to go through the procedure again, I was an anxious wreck over it. We go to another clinic, get told the first guy did it wrong/incorrectly somehow, then get directed to a podiatrist to fix it for real this time.

That podiatrist was the nicest doctor in the world. When the nurse brought out the tray with the tools right before they were going to start my eyeballs took one look at the instruments and just WEPT without my say-so. It didn't even feel like crying. It just felt like water coming out of my eyeballs without my consent. They were so understanding about it. 😭 I felt like I was being a big fat wuss, or a crybaby. But I was scared. "Sorry. I'm good. It just really hurt last time." And they'd heard the story so they knew so I was gonna trust them to NOT do that they reassured both my mom and I they'd make sure it didn't hurt.

Then he injected the local anesthesia to numb my toe and get to work. All I felt was him vaguely pushing my toe around for a better angle and a little bit of pressure and then bam. It was over and done. 0 pain whatsoever. It was fuckin INCREDIBLE. 20/10 experience.

IDK why that first guy kept going when the patient was clearly in so much pain or distressed he had to be held down. I was like 14. >:( But it makes for a good story to tell.

& that's my traumatic scar horror story of the smallest scar I have. :D

THATS INSANE. SOME DOCTORS ARE SO DUMB AND SHOULD NOT BE PRACTISING. also yeah i know abt this procedure bc .. i obsessively watch videos w it.. dont even. dont even say anything. i know. i know.

im soooo sorry u went thru that shit thats so bad. but im glad it got fixed later.

[winemom-culture]

My endocrinology appointment wasn’t good and I’m sad

My heart rate and blood pressure were both high. These things, weight loss, and my eye symptoms were the initial symptoms of my Grave’s back 2 years ago. So my doctor was like… I think you might be hyperthyroid again based on your heart.

But I don’t really know if my heart is a great metric. Bc like, my heart rate is always high. Especially at the doctor when I get anxious. I told her this, but in order to consider it not related to the thyroid she wants to see my bloodwork (expected) and a cardiologist work up. Which, that part feels a little excessive to me when I don’t necessarily think there’s anything wrong I just have a little bird heart. Arrhythmia runs very heavily on my dads side but it gives them problems with palpitations, I don’t really have those often, just like a fast baseline constantly. When I first got diagnosed with Grave’s my HR could’ve been 130-40 easy RESTING, so I sorta feel like 120 while anxious (what it was today) is relatively better? When I’m at home it definitely feels like normal until I exert. She’s like “You have to stay on beta blocker until you get your heart under 80 bpm” and I’m like lol. No offense but my heart is like never consistently under 80 even on the beta blockers 🥲 beta blockers became a big crutch to me last year and I feel like getting off them made me feel weird even though they are non-addictive I am semi-convinced that’s why I became so hyperfixated on my heart in my big anxiety spiral in 2021. I really don’t want back on them….

The thing I’m definitely NOT experiencing now is weight loss. I did the math and I’m like 80 pounds heavier then when I started going to her in 2020. And she has said that is from the thyroid medicine. Not that the medicine is bad, it’s doing it’s job of blocking thyroid hormone, but in turn that slows my metabolism a lot. I’ve tried to express my concerns about the constant weight gain, the fact that I feel like a ravenous monster, that I just can’t get a grip on it at multiple past appointments and I feel like she kinda brushes that off, always just “so anyways about that heart…..”

So now I get blood work next week for a moment of truth to see what the deal is. If I’m hyperthyroid I have to get back on my meds and probably consider surgery to take it out (that I don’t have time, money or a support system for- because my parents would be against this. That’s a whole other insane can of worms.) OR I am still in a balanced thyroid state but have to go figure out what’s wrong with my heart.

My health OCD is immediately revving up about being alone at my place, like “you don’t want to be alone all the time with high heart rate and blood pressure do you? What if you stroke out and die? Right there where you’re sitting?” Which is funny, ‘cause yesterday I didn’t know any better and was perfectly fine being alone, while presumably in the exact same boat healthwise. Ignorance was bliss

I’m feel like I’m gaining like 5 pounds every time I step on a scale and it’s so frustrating and upsetting, I literally have to get it figured out and under control this year. I’m totally just overwhelmed and don’t know how to start or how to truly stick to it. I cried my whole way home and I’m getting myself worked up again venting this out. Hope I can keep that pain fresh in my mind as motivation. Real meltdown hours. I don’t want all these problems at 26. It’s making me think about stuff down the road, what if I decide in 2 or 3 years I do want to have another kid after all? I genuinely don’t think as it is right now I would be medically advised to try. It only gets more high-risk as I get older. The thyroid and fertility/complications go hand in hand. It’s like, y’know, that’s awhile down the road there’s still time, but I’m 2 years out from initial diagnosis and as of right now I feel much more vaguely unhealthy in a general sense than I did then.

I just wish there were a more receptive endo around here but as far as I can tell from looking in the past, this office is really the best we got rn.