#i need to lock in and read them all

[sejarcus-archive]

Pulling my hair out cause I have a never-ending list of fics I want to read so bad, but I'm going through it so slowww

[tiffanyachings]

it would have been very beautiful. camilla would have had to cook (horrible bone soup)

[i-like-forcefem]

what's your favorite forcefem premise? (like, circumstance in which the forcefem occurs, if that makes sense)

Incredibly hard question!

Tonally my preference always goes to Humiliating yet Loving- but premise wise there's nothing but amazing things to choose from-

But if I had too pick right now...

Losing a Bet! Which gets escalated as "he" seems to like it~

I love it when there's plausible deniability at the start, "it's not like I want this! They're making me do it!" And the bet is a very simple, grounded, and silly way of it!

Then I love it when it slowly escalates!

Not due to anyone putting on a lot of force- but because the girls boundaries slowly get pushed and pushed and she's not pushing back

She's enjoying this- a lot- she'll never admit it- but she doesn't need to

The look on her face when she first put on a skirt is all the forcefemmer needs as a go ahead to plan what makeup she'll need to buy for her~

The bet, is in my eyes, the most elegant trans wishfufillment scenario out there, I don't think I've ever since an execution of it that I didn't love

And gently pushing someone's boundaries as escalation is just good manners~

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Alternative form of 'Hitting Wangxian with a Catboyification beam'

[agnesandhilda]

reonagi is wild because one of them is the heir to japanese amazon with all the ignorance and entitlement that entails and the other is a regular guy and I'm fully convinced that the billionaire deserves better

[moneysyan]

Found a new ship to obsess over

[voidcat]

you starting to wear prescription glasses awakens something in blue lock men. when you take the glasses off for a minute and not looking- or back turned, they'll misplace it somewhere else.

seeing you walk around with tiny steps, in case of stepping on the glasses; scrunch your nose and squint your eyes, making the cutest faces like a small animal in distress, utterly confused; how your hands ahead will pat, pat, pat try to get a feel of the glasses, occasionally the said hand brushing against their thigh or knee- to which they'll let out a chuckle and make a playful comment about you getting handsy.

"you know what they say, the least place you expect or where you last left it." with a sigh, deflated, before you can return to your initial spot, they'll place them back there and watch how your face blooms with glee when you find them again.

[little-doggy-boy-kisserstraight]

is gideon the ninth litterally the worst book to get me into reading? probably, it uses a lot of big words i dont understand, i haven read copius amounts of fantasy books as a child so im struggling with all the long made up names for things, i dont know exactly what is going on from the get go (which i HATE (i go into shows/movies having googled the ending)), im still confused on why gideon is called both griddle and nav and so yeah

is gideon the ninth also the best book to get me into reading? yes cause it has lesbians and catholicism

[popponn]

lazy day. [kurona ranze x reader]

The sun was out up above, the TV was playing an unknown movie from three years ago, and the laptop was on as it played music along with occasional advertisement jingles.

You laid your head on your Ranze’s chest, hands around his waist, as he napped on the sofa. It was comfortable, despite the hard muscle of his chest. At least, Ranze wasn’t putting the weights of his legs or his whole body on you. Sometimes you teased him for being shorter than his teammates, but a toned body of a professional sportsman is nothing to joke off for someone whose back cracks after sitting for five hours.

Though, in the end, short body and noisy backbones aside—life was as good as it was on a lazy day.

Still, it could be better if your boyfriend was awake and let the two of your spoil each other.

It wasn’t exactly the first time for a lazy day to be spent with Ranze sleeping all while letting you turn him into a human-sized teddy bear. It wasn’t as if he didn’t get anything, he tried to explain to you one day. He got to refresh the fatigue away from his body while still got you to spoil him.

He cutely said, “I’m happy. I’m happy.” Then, you had absolutely no heart to say to him that it wasn’t ‘you feel bad for using him as a plushie’ but more of ‘please spoil this humble one too’.

“Ranze, Ranze,” you imitated your Ranze’s habit, shifting your body as you slotted your head on his shoulder. Lightly, you pressed your lips against where the skin of neck would be wasn’t it hidden by your shared, oversized tacky frog sweater. Hearing his name, Kurona Ranze hummed a sleepy reply.

“Mwhat?” he mumbled. Ranze didn’t open his eyes, but sloppily his hands raised up and try to settle comfortably around you, resting on the small of your back.

“Do you like me?” you asked mindlessly in a tone more akin to one requesting a praise more than an answer.

Unsurprisingly, Ranze’s cat like eyes revealed themselves at that. They opened groggily, yet you could a see a crinkle made out of affection between them. He looked at you, saying nothing for a moment. The clock was ticking somewhere in the background and a muffled, cheerful love song was playing in the background.

A small smile, almost sheepish and bashful, etched itself unto Kurona Ranze’s lips as he closed his eyes again, this time out of comfort rather than out of sleepiness. As natural as twinkling stars that accompany the moon every night without fail, Ranze intertwined his legs along with yours as he pulled you closer.

“Love you, love you,” Ranze said, without a hint of doubt, as if he was saying for the first time. “A lot,” he added, unlike an afterthought, but like a series of love poem jumbled by a teenager’s crush.

You giggled, “Hehe, sounds good. Me too, Ranze.”

It was another lazy day on a sofa, and it was a very good day.

[itspileofgoodthings]

there is something about the fragmentary nature of teaching that I hate so much but I think I have to make my peace with because it’s probably where a lot of grace is working/things are operating that I can’t see. In good ways as well as hard ways.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent life photos

[killjoy-prince]

DAYBREAK MENTION FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 65 CHAPTERS!!! BABYGIRL I MISS YOUUUU

[clowningcrows]

lol i pregamed a tiny bit for agatha but now after finishing im just taking shots for coping reasons

[b1mbodoll]

where r my tbz fans… callin all tbz fans… i have something to Say

[lantern007]

My most hated question when filling out forms about my chronic pain is ‘when did this start/how long has this been going on?’ Because… I don’t know a life without pain.

Like my parents have, for the most part, taken my health seriously and I have been seeing doctors about pain, consistently, since high school. But I also saw a doctor in elementary school because of joint pain, and that’s not even mentioning the *chronic* headaches that I know trace back to **at least** first grade. Because I remember making myself sick with water consumption because people told me I was just dehydrated and needed to drink water… it never helped, I just had a stomach so full of water I could feel it sloshing around. And that’s not even mentioning the constant bruising as a toddler, significantly more than my friends, or the trigger thumb I developed in preschool (something that most people get in their 80’s).

So when did this all start??? Unironically? When I was three years old (or roughly can’t remember the exact age of trigger thumb but it was close)

But I feel like I can’t say that. So I say 2016, because ???

Honestly I’m not sure, that’s around when my parents really started taking my pain seriously (reference: turns out the shoulder pain I was complaining about for months wasn’t me being dramatic and was instead impingement and collar bone dislocation—I don’t even blame my parents, because yeah, that’s on them, but also, I know that both of them feel guilty about not listening to me the 4th time I was begging them to go to pt, 3rd time for my shoulders specifically)

I don’t understand how people are never in pain. Because the only times in recent memory I know I was pain free is when I was drunk. And I can’t even get that drunk anymore (though I was very careful about limiting how often I got drunk for pain relief because that’s a slippery slope)

I think I’ve had pain free moments in my life, but I also know I’ve been in pain since at least third grade (disregarding the chronic headaches). And I know I was in pain a lot when I was younger (a lot of that is blocked out but I know I was in pain)

From friends and family for a long time I was just a ‘dramatic little girl’ because I was in pain. My swim coach once told me that my dad told him that I was a bit of a hypochondriac (I was so young I didn’t know what that meant, but he told me and that moment is burned into my mind. Again, I don’t even hold my dad accountable for that because I know if he remembers that happening he would feel extremely guilty for it now—i also would not be surprised to find out my swim coach just told me that because he never believed me even when I was in pt three times a week and had to bring notes from my physical therapist to swim meets so that I would be allowed to compete while my shoulders were taped up)

It’s hard when you grow up in pain. Because everyone else I know with chronic illness or pain has a rough estimate of when it started.

I don’t.

I’ve been referred to as peoples ‘disabled mother’ (a term that I love, don’t get me wrong, I love that I can help people navigate being disabled even if it’s because I don’t even know when I became disabled. I think I always have been and just couldn’t because I was a young girl ) because even though they’re only a year or two younger than me, I’ve accepted that I’m disabled for years now, and I had chronic pain and was disabled long before that. But as much as I love that I can help guide people, make them feel less broken and more heard (especially because they also had friends who would shame them for not taking care of themselves in a ‘if you’re in pain why haven’t you taken ibuprofen’ way and not a productive way), it hurts. And not even because I didn’t have someone to guide me like I provided them, but because they know when it started and they may even know the trigger. I don’t.

So far I’ve only read one book with a disabled protagonist (technically two but dragon lance doesn’t count because that was a *hot* minute ago), and as I was reading the pov character kept referring to ‘when she got sick’ and the grief that comes with slowly losing the ability to do what you love, and while I loved it and felt seen, the ‘when I got sick’ mantra bothered me. I brought it up to my sister, whose chronic pain started in her 20s, and she didn’t see a problem with it. She agreed with that assessment, and in a way it made me feel better because that is an experience people go through (and it’s valid, and I’m glad that that book captured that), I don’t have a defining moment I ‘got sick’. I don’t even think of my pain as being ‘sick’, it’s too much of a normal part of my life. It’s always been there.

And sure, I can point to specific moments when I truly loathe ability to do something because of pain. But even those moments had build up. Of course my hips got to the point I can’t walk more than a couple of blocks, I couldn’t stand long enough for a quick shower for months before then. There’s always a build up to the moments I lose something. The pain has always been here and it won’t ever leave.

I don’t think I’ll be walking full time by thirty, I fully expect to be an ambulatory wheelchair user by then, I already use a cane and a lot of days the cane is not enough but I want to be able to use one of my hands while walking so I make do. When I tell people this, even my physical therapist, they always respond with pity. A ‘why do you think that’ or ‘let’s not focus on the negatives’. But I don’t think of that as negative. It feels like a fact, and I’ve accepted it, if it’s not true, amazing, I will honestly probably celebrate that. But there’s a good chance that it will be. I’m not at the point of wondering if I need a wheelchair yet, but I like to keep my expectations low when it comes to my pain. Because I can’t find answers, only more medications that might help but will probably stop helping at some point.

When I go to the doctor, I don’t expect them to finally conduct a test that will diagnose me. I’ve been down that road too many times to get my hopes up. Blood tests will come back normal or barely outside the range of normal that they’re written off. Imaging will only show the small tear in my hip, I’ve been told my spine is so perfect that it could be used in medical textbooks. It is a textbook spine, so why does it hurt so much? It hurts to get your hopes up that this will finally answer questions and bring a diagnosis only to be told that everything is fine. Even with doctors who will still listen after and say something along the lines of ‘your tests don’t show anything wrong, but I want to put you on *insert medication* because it should help manage the symptoms you’re having.’

I am so lucky with my support system, and my doctors. Every single person I hear talk about their medical journey on line horrifies me with their story of not being listened to for years. I’m so lucky, and yet there’s still no answers. I don’t think a doctor has ever outright said I’m too young, or I don’t meet whatever, I’ve been listened to and they’ve taken my pain seriously and have tried to help. I don’t know of a single other person who has had such a good experience that way. And my family and friends listen to my limits and check into make sure I’m ok and not pushing myself.

But even with that. It doesn’t take the pain away when another test comes back with normal or almost normal results. I don’t expect them to anymore, and I have resigned myself to the fact that I can’t get to the specialists who might be able to do more.

But whenever I see a new doctor, or have to fill out that fucking ‘was this related to a work place injury’ questionnaire that insurance companies send once a year (it wasn’t a work place injury last year, it won’t magically be one this year) and am asked ‘when did this all start’. I hate it, I hate it so much. And I have to scrape my mind for when I’ve said it started because ‘when I was three’ isn’t a good enough answer, and I fear saying the wrong time and being denied treatment (American health insure for the win).

My pain doesn’t have a start date. And its end date will be when I die. And I will live in pain until then. Because ‘when you can’t do what you do you do what can’ and what I can do is my hobbies until my pain eventually takes those away too. But not having a start date isn’t good enough, because then I’m just dramatic and don’t know what I’m talking about. At least I’ve figured out if I tell people about how my collar bone was dislocated for a year and a half they tend to shut up with the whole ‘you’re too young to be in that sort of pain’. Which I agree with. I am too young to be in this amount of pain. But it is what it is, so I’ll do what I can.

[mxdotpng]

time for eden posting. nope, not that one. not that one either. yes, the other one. the final fantasied one. the one that split his soul into halves and then survived the sundering because he got locked in a box. and then the box got eaten by a space whale. that eden