#so like. i'm trying. but holy hell that was one of the worst flare-ups of my joints that i've had since college band camp

[practically-an-x-man]

finally home. they were still shooting when I left but my joints were doing so rough that i had to bow out early. at least there wasn't much else for the MUAs to do tonight and the director is an absolute treasure of a woman and completely underrstood the situation. I still feel bad for leaving but I was (and still kinda am) in rough shape

[zephfair]

Hello? Anyone still here?

Hey, who disappeared for months and has desperately missed all her little friends who live on this hell-site but has been too exhausted and overwhelmed to actually login ... and who lost track of where this sentence was going ... Yeah, this girl.🤗

But, wow, have I missed you all and all the beauty that is Tumblr, and I hope you'll forgive me for secreting myself away since--holy cow--January.

Quick life update behind the cut.

So, I knew going back to work full-time at my age after quite a long unintended break AND now having health disabilities, well, I knew it would be hard. I knew I would have to adjust my whole, entire life. I expected it to be incredibly difficult, and I fully planned to give myself some grace and time in having to change my every routine.

But somehow, I still underestimated it.

I am so thankful to have a job now, with a steady (if small) income and benefits that frankly make me want to weep with thanks. I mean, I don't have time to go to the doctor, but at least now I could afford to go, if I could get there.

But wow, work is tough. Not just the literal work but, as I said, changing my entire life around it. I'm not complaining, but I am doing my best to learn all new skills (job is not in my old field), relearn how to work and reschedule my own needs and just upend everything.

The absolute worst thing has been trying to take care of my aunt. I was to leave town on Jan. 7 to start my training on Jan. 8.

My 90-year-old aunt fell and broke her pelvis (and a finger and needed some stitches) Jan. 2. I spent every waking hour with her over the rest of that week. While I'd planned to spend that week cleaning my house, getting my business in order and just resting, I was freaking out and traveling through the snow and literally worried sick about her.

It was bad.

And I couldn't stay with her like I did when she broke her hip because I had to attend training full-time. At least they let us come home super-early from that first on-site week of training, but that led to a literal nightmare of a drive home one night through snow, ice, rain, flooding and fog that I'm not joking I've had nightmares about before and now since. Long story.

So, I spent January and February training and working 9 hours a day then spending all day Saturday at her place cleaning and doing laundry and making sure she had everything she needed for a week, and then I had Sunday to do my own laundry and clean the house and take care of my own things...which just keep getting pushed back because I'm too worn out.

Thank God, Aunt made a miraculous recovery and now is doing her own house and laundry etc. but I still go out one day a weekend and do anything else she needs and make sure she has all her groceries and supplies and stuff.

We're all each other has.

Needless to say, I haven't been taking care of myself. I don't sleep well anyway, but add the stress of the new job and my dear aunt and my own health issues, and I'm exhausted. Weary. Overwhelmed and just so very tired. My body is so heavy, I can barely move anymore. It's bad.

And when I finally got to my doctor two weeks ago for my long-delayed check-up, found out I was right about my blood pressure being sky-high again. It went high for the first time several years ago when my Mom was dying, but it eventually settled and was fine. But yeah, it's bad again now. No shock there. And all my lovely chronic health conditions have flared which was no surprise--again, I had braced myself to expect it and power through it, and that's what I'm doing. But it sucks. And it's hard. And there's so much pain.

I don't want to say much about my job, but the over-arching Praise the Lord wonderful thing about it is working from home. There have been so many days already that I never would've been able to get to an office to work, but I can push through it here because I don't have to use any spoons to get myself "ready" (sweatshirts and leggings, no personal grooming necessary, yay), and I don't have any anxiety about driving because zero commute. It has its challenges too because Teams is a weird office communication alternative to get used to, but on the good side, I don't have to deal with interpersonal drama from co-workers.

The work itself is challenging, but I have some days where I finally feel quietly competent and think, Oh, I can actually do this. And then there are some days that leave me in tears and praying for help because it's just too hard. But there's no way I'm quitting; they're going to have to fire me because did I mention the benefits are incredible? I mean, I live in the US and if you knew how much I had to pay last year for my own health insurance, and then the scope and biopsies and then the skin cancer and surgery and then the other skin pre-cancer biopsy and treatment. Yeah, I'm still in big debt from all of that.

So I keep praying that they keep me and that I'll do a good job. And my immediate supervisor has started piling extra work on me over the past 3 weeks so suddenly I'm doing my own stuff AND cleaning up the work from co-workers who aren't keeping up. And all of them have been working since October while just a handful of us began in January?

I have been complaining about this to my aunt, and I thought it meant that my supervisor thinks I'm incapable or is punishing me for trying to get through own my entire workload every single day. But she believes he's giving me all their shit work because I'll actually do it, and I admit, I have gotten some of it completed successfully after they'd given up on it. So, I don't know.

I know that I'm a perfectionist and I've always pushed myself as hard as possible to do my best at work (not at housework and other things in my life lols) but I really hope that it gets me a good reputation at this job and they keep me.

So yeah, that's what's going on here. I've completely abandoned the fandom things in life that I actually enjoy. I almost feel, like, guilty when I'd think about trying to make some time to browse Tumblr or wasting time on social media or even trying to write fic. I get done with work at 6:30 pm, and until I get something to eat and then clean up, it's 8 or 8:30. I have to spend about an hour on the phone with Aunt (and I call her every morning, break, and lunch time too). By then, I can barely walk or move so I just try to make it upstairs to bed. Even though I can't sleep, it just feels nice to lie down.

But I miss all of you. And I miss fandom fun. And I want to be around more because maybe it would recharge me rather than me feeling so freaking overwhelmed every minute of the day.

And I promise not to complain and bitch all the time, now that I've gotten it out of my system. But thanks for listening.

I do miss you, and I love you all.

PLEASE let me know if I've missed anything important in your lives and goings on here! I've got A LOT of catching up to do!

[londonfog-chan]

The Trans!Reader x Jonathan Joestar That No One Asked For But is Getting Anyway Because Fuck Convention: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

This one goes out to all my people who requested a Trans!Reader insert on my other blogs, I’m trying to test the waters with this one to make sure I’m doing it justice. No one should ever have to feel bad about themselves and I want this to be my love letter to all of my trans folks out there.

...

[[MORE]]

At first, she didn’t recognize the young man standing alone on the hill. Maybe you’d been chased off by him, and she worried when she saw your box in his hand. Heartbroken, thinking that your treasure had been commandeered by a brute. But the wind betrayed the boy, billowing locks of hair and instantly she broke out into a run, the turquoise fabric of her dress flaring out behind her as she hitched up her skirts, her blonde hair trailing behind her like a cape.

“I am here!” she called your name, and when the young man turned she saw the friend she’d known since infancy.

“Oh my!” the lightest dusting of pink tinges her cheeks as she skids to a halt directly in front of you. “You look… Dashing! Such fanciful clothes.”

“I had to make an impression darling.” You reply, smiling shyly and holding a hat box closely to your chest. “My brother won’t miss the trousers nor the blouse, but the shoes… They’re far too big for me. And… And I’m unsure how to tie the cravat...”

“Don’t fret, I can fix it for you! Look, I’ve even brought some things for you to pin up your hair. We’ll have you all primped in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Like a mother, Erina Pendleton takes you between her knees on the grassy knoll. Armed with a brush and a coil of ribbon, she pulled and twisted your snarled tangles up and away from your face. You obediently pulled a man’s cap out of the hatbox and over your head as Erina finished with your hair and took your shoes off, pulling stockings from her basket and stuffing your shoes until they fit snugly when she tied the laces.

“Oh…” she smiles when she’s done, and for some reason it makes your heart tingle the slightest bit.

“What do you think?” you ask.

“I think… I think you’re positively handsome, and you seem to be less tightly wound. Especially around the eyes.”

You’re unsure of how you look, so you can’t say for certain that you feel the clothes have done anything to make you less of a wreck emotionally. Raising your arms over your head, you look at your shoes, the cravat Erina showed you how to tie around your neck, the tweed trousers. Everything is in muted colors, not a stitch of brightness to be seen save for the handkerchief peeping from your breast pocket. When you stole the clothes from the discarded trunk your brother left behind before he went to India, you felt exhilarated, frightened at the prospect of getting caught and possibly taking a switch for your boldness. Yet when your mother caught you taking them, she merely laughed and told you they wouldn't fit your brother even if you decided to fix them up, but if you wanted some play clothes they were more than adequate to serve that purpose. You decidedly felt deflated, a bit hurt she didn't really do anything and dismissed you as though you were an eccentric child playing at a game instead of a young man trying to come into his own. But you do feel something now that Erina has fixed you up… almost airy. And she is right, you don’t feel the strain around your eyes anymore. After a while however, you begin to squirm, indeed feeling something but not the freedom nor the personal acceptance you've been trying to achieve.

“My trousers chafe me so!” you complained. “Have they not managed to figure out a finer weave of fabric for the warmer months?!”

“Stop scratching! You’re being so vulgar!" Erina whines, but it does nothing to deter you from reaching into the band of your pants and scratching violently everywhere.

"Damn and blast!"

"Sophisticated gentlemen don't reach into their drawers and scratch in front of a lady!" she scolds, "You said you want to unleash the gentleman inside you, what would he say to this display?”

“Well right now the gentleman inside me wants me to tend to the war raging on my buttocks!”

Erina cries your name, begging you to stop scratching your rear end with a ferocity that nearly makes you roar in frustration. It does take quite a long time for you to relent, damning the conventions of polite society all the way and using rough language that the poor girl has unfortunately become accustomed to. For a while you complain some more about the clothes, the societal expectation to be covered at all times, the fact that neither gender is truly free of their own volition, and the revolution you wish to start for a society that is nothing short of anarchy.

"Everyone will be allowed to run stark naked if they wish to, or to be draped in silks and I'll make all these pompous aristocrats provide every necessity. I grow weary of hearing the necessities of decorum every five minutes when I simply wish to fulfill a human need!"

“Now, now…” Erina coos gently, brushing blades of grass from your trousers. “Look here, you’ve unsightly grass stains.

"If I must return to my flouncing hell I'll take care of it later." you told her. "Grass stains speak to a boy that craves adventure. An Odysseus!"

"I'm sure it does." she giggles. "But all this talk of treasure, we still haven’t taken care of the most important part.”

“… I’d nearly forgotten about that. Let me get her for you…”

You finally relinquish the tight hold you’ve been keeping on your hat box, slowly opening the lid and reaching in with both hands. Cradling your treasure as though it’s a child, you rock your precious doll back and forth, smoothing the cascading brown curls down and fixing her skirts. It takes a while for you to let go. You don’t want to let the poor thing go. She is far beyond a play thing, she was your bearer of the most heartfelt confessions and tears, the first to know of your beginning metamorphosis back when you feared Erina would call you horrific names if you told her your most guarded secret.

Now, when you look up at Erina, you know you’ve made the right decision to trust her. She scoots closer to you as you tremble, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and not once making a move to steal the doll from your grasp. In fact, she doesn’t presume to take it until you offer it to her, and then she treats it as though she is receiving a holy relic.

“Please…” you beseech your best friend, “Give her a good home, with plenty of love and affection. She likes to sleep beside your pillow in her box, and her favorite holiday is Easter, her favorite food is spice cake…”

“You can trust me, my dearest friend. I promise to take very good care of Aphrodite for you.”

Slender fingers reached forward to stroke your cheek, clearing away the tears that have fallen for the poor doll you relinquished. As she cleans your face, she tells you the doll will never leave her sight, fully prepared to cater to her every whim as though she's a princess and not made of wax. Yet Erina is right. You mustn’t cry. It’s only for a little while that Erina will have her, until you’re grown up and have a house of your own to keep your possessions. Unsure of your parent's reaction when you finally decide that they need to know they've lost a daughter and obtained a son, you told Erina it's better to keep Aphrodite away lest she is destroyed. You promised your dolly she'd be safer with Erina those nights you cuddled her, seeking reassurance from the persecution you knew you’d face from the rest of the world.

“When I’m a grown man, I’ll be a renowned physician.” You asserted aloud. “I’ll have a big house, millions of books, my piano, and I’ll play Aphrodite’s favorite songs for her every single day. If I am not accepted, then that will be fine. No family will be permitted to enter my abode except for you, my dearest Erina. We will have twenty dogs apiece, and I shall give them only the strongest names from Greco Roman literature.”

“Twenty apiece?!” Erina exclaimed. “Don’t you think that’s a mite excessive?”

“Not at all, in fact I think that’s hardly a proper minimum requirement for a house.”

All this talk of dogs and estates with room for a man and his doll makes you excited, and you cannot help but take your borrowed handkerchief from your pocket to wipe your face. The wind evidently shared your sentiments, as the minute you loosened your grip the scrap of fabric floated away on a gust that made you clutch your hat for fear of losing it.

“Oh no!” Erina whimpered. “I hand embroidered that handkerchief!”

“A thousand pardons darling! I’ll fetch it back!” you cried, and you’re up and running before she can stop you.

As you chased the scrap of fabric, you couldn’t help but feel elated. There was no tug at your waist that made your insides hurt and your breathing shallow, no skirts to trip you and confine you to a chair where you practiced the same stitch over and over until your fingers felt they would break. None of the insecurity and strangeness at inhabiting a body that did not feel like it belonged to you. You only felt the wind at your face, the hard earth below your brother’s shoes as you ran… No longer did you feel trapped, like a lion pacing a tiny cage in the circus.

You felt elated at last. As though finally, after all this time, you were living your truth.

It was Erina’s screams that finally snapped you from your euphoria. Pocketing the runaway handkerchief, you began your course back to the grassy knoll where you left her, fearing the worst when you heard her crying out “please! Please put her down!” Your heart sank. Not only was your dearest friend being assaulted, but her tormentor evidently had commandeered Aphrodite because there was only one other “her” that Erina could be referring to. She never referred to you in the old way anymore, not since your confession.

You made it just in time to see a young man being beaten to the ground, two other snot nosed brats, had commandeered Aphrodite and you heard talk of them going to lift up her skirts to see if she'd been made with all the right parts…

And the last thing you remembered was seeing red, absolutely seething with rage as you put a shoe up the ass of one of the boys and nearly launched Aphrodite into Erina’s arms. All the frustration, all the anger you felt your entire life of living a life that wasn’t yours, it came out in the form of an unchecked feral response that made the boys cry out for mercy as they left you, Erina, and the downtrodden young man alone. By the time you'd let them go, they could only hobble off pathetically. In your rage you vaguely recalled screaming to them that perhaps you'd check if they'd been given all the right parts, one of the boys had taken your brother's shoe to the groin and was being dragged along by his companion. Your face was dripping with sweat and tears, and your hands were sore and bloody. The blonde didn’t know who to comfort first, but when your eyes befell on the strapping young lad she too went to his aid.

“Don’t touch me!” he whined. “I didn’t do it for you, you know! A gentleman should always stand for a damsel in distress!”

“… then I suppose a thank you is in order for me?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Even you're shocked at the personality you've assumed in your new clothes. With little effort your voice has become commanding, a general's voice that is full of conviction. Your stance is confident, centered, alone in your room you often perused illustrations in books of the matadores from Spain and admired the way they carried themselves in the charcoal drawings. Compared to the uptight men of this era, you swore to yourself you'd reject the stiffness of aristocracy and instead would carry yourself as unyielding as a man facing a bull. The young man looks up at you, crimson with rage, shaking and nose streaming carmine down his face. He and Erina have the same bewildered and intimidated expression, and he flinches but does not lash out when you heave him to his feet. He finally bolts from the clearing, insulting you as though you’re the one that beat him to a pulp, and for quite some time you and Erina stare after his retreating form.

"You brute!" he whimpers as he runs away.

“Who in the blue hell…” you begin, and you see Erina approaching with an unfamiliar handkerchief in hand to wrap your bloody knuckles.

Through the blood, the two of you manage to read the words “Jonathan Joestar”, looking back at the expanse of land where the boy had run off to even more confused and left with far more questions than answers.

But one thing is certain and you loathe it to be the first thought you have in your emergence into boyhood: this Jonathan Joestar fellow is the most handsome man you've ever seen in your life.