#i've been down in the dumps for actual months over my body and condition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flutt3rb4tz · 4 months

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i hate when people who dont have marfans make/headcanon characters with marfans as some quirky trait. i really do, i've seen it a lot in my life as someone who was diagnosed at 3 with the condition and it honestly grinds my gears they always do the most stereotype-y traits, or ignore how much of a struggle it is to live with marfans, or how marfans can fuck up your body further by just how much shit it causes.

to put it into perspective, i got tagged like a fucking animal at school because they didnt want to take too much care into explaining that i needed extra care if something happened, or that people should be gentle with me because i could die on school grounds. ive sat cooped up in my home most of my life, i've only been on a fair ride once because getting on a roller coaster could harm me as well. i need help walking or getting around because my body cant always handle it, i have other problems due to marfans that have hurt me greatly for my entire life.

i'm slowly going blind from marfans and theres nothing a doctor can do that will stick. i risk aortic dissection simply by being hit in the chest, i used to be afraid of going to bed because if anything hit my chest too hard i could literally fucking die then and there, because my heart would fucking collapse on itself and theres a decent chance that i wouldnt make it to the emergency room.

it's not just some trait, it is a disability. and it's not quirky!! it was never fucking quirky!!! getting discriminated against for being disabled by the age of 4 wasnt fun! it wasnt silly! it was traumatizing!!!!

if you're going to make a character or headcanon a character with marfans take into account how much of a stereotype you're making them. there are short people with marfans, fat people with marfans (like myself), poc with marfans, there are people who cannot walk or function because of marfans, people with marfans arent scary or shy or weak all the time. we're human people! we vary!

talk to actual people with marfans. look up posts about the condition from people with the condition. dont confuse marfans with EDS. just have common sense!! its exhausting trying to look at content from people like me and either seeing headcanons, EDS posts, or people telling everyone with marfans that they have no hope (this ones common on reddit, but it applies).

people with marfans dont immediately die either, btw. i saw a post recently that was just "haha this character better have had amazing doctors or his marfans would kill him in 2 seconds!!!" and that's not how it works. of course it can be fatal thats with all things, but dont act like its an immediate death sentence, please. i'm sure a lot of us have heard it enough already

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starlightxsvt · 3 years

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Sweeter Than Sweets

Pairing ➳ CEO!seungcheol x baker female!reader

Genre ➳ kinda enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, romance, angst?? clicheeee :)

Warnings ➳ hella cursing, reader's going through a lot lol

Word count ➳ 2.5k

part 1 l part 2

Part 1: THE BEGINNING

The plot owner is going to visit you today. I'm sincerely sorry for my mistake, I misunderstood. Please resolve the issue with him gently.

You scoff at the message. What the actual fuck? Fury floods through your blood and you clench your fists.

This cannot be happening.

After such a long time you had finally scraped enough money to lease a place for your bakery shop. It's been your dream since so long and after years of hard work it was finally coming true- until today. Apparently the real estate agent is nothing but a fathead and for whatever goddamn reason, she leased you the place when it was clearly not up to be leased. The building owner is on his way now- to possibly kick you out.

No, you cannot let that happen. It is their fault and because of their miscommunication or whatever you are not going to give this place up which you worked so hard for.

If he thinks you'll give in so easily, he has another thing coming.

A Mercedes Benz pulls up in front of your shop just as you finish screwing one of the decoration lights.

He's here.

You take in a deep breath and march out of the shop as a tall male comes of the car. You almost stop in your tracks to gape at him- broad shoulders, gorgeous rich black hair that matches a sculptured face- he's simply breathtaking. No one should be that gorgeous. And he's young- why the fuck is he so young? Does he seriously own this building?

No no no. Stay focused.

He takes long steps towards you and even before he can reach you, you snap, "I'm not giving up this place so don't waste your time."

He stops right in front of you, his hands in his pockets and raises a brow at you. He chuckles- how dare he, before saying, "You do know that this is my building, right?"

"So?"

"So, it means I can kick out a nuisance like you anytime I want." His eyes go dark as he stares you down.

Nuisance? What the fuck? You take in a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from reaching out and choking him. He's so fucking gorgeous and infuriating, damn it.

"Mr. Choi, I've leased this place for two years and if you want it so much, come back two years later and we can talk about it."

"Leave while I'm being polite," his tone is gravelly and his eyes bore into yours. You shiver slightly.

"But I paid for this place! This is mine now!" You yell, unable to hold yourself together. "If you were so concerned about your building then you should have been careful that your agent was leasing it!"

"I admit that it was her fault, a huge one at that matter but I need this building. I'll give you 3 days to take everything and leave. My workers will start their renovation work from next week." He says and turns around his heel, ready to head back.

"No! I will not be moving out! I've worked so hard to lease this place! I even brought all the furniture for my shop! You have no right to do this!" You shout at him. Fuck that son of a bitch.

He stares at you with a bored look, "You've 3 days."

"No!" You whine, stopping him in his tracks again. "If you really want this place then give me some more time. At least a few months."

He marches back to you, his jaw ticking, "Do you think I'm here to play games? You move out in 3 days or my men will drag you out from here." He warns, eyes glinting.

Motherf-

You can't hold in your temper. So you walk past him and towards his fancy car and draw a long nice scratch on the body using your screwdriver. After being satisfied with your handiwork, you turn back to him.

He stares at you, dumbfounded. His driver looks the same except he looks a bit scared. You smirk at Choi, crossing your arms.

He still looks surprised and he scoffs as if he can't believe what happened. He rakes a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched.

"Expect a call from my insurance company. You'll have to pay for what you just did." That's all he says before walking past you to car as his driver quickly fires on the engine.

You mutely watch him leave.

Fuck. Oh fuck.

What have you done?

You stare at Choi's personal number that you managed to get from the real estate agent. Shit. You've to call him. You've to apologize. You're in no condition to pay for his damn fancy car.

Shit. Shit. Why did you do that?

You bite your lip, staring at your phone screen, mustering up the courage to call him. You've to apologize and somehow get him to forgive you.

Oh heavens, here goes nothing.

With shaky hands you ring him up and hold your breath. After several rings he picks up, his voice gruff, "Choi here."

You clear your throat and inhale deeply, "Mr.Choi, it's me, ___. We...uhm, met earlier today." You try to stable your voice.

The line is silent for a moment and you're afraid he has hung up but he speaks, his voice laced with a chuckle, "Well, well, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

You swallow, "Mr.Choi I called you to um... apologize for what I did to your car. Please understand that I was really angry then and I sincerely apologize for what I did. I'm so sorry."

"Okay," is all he says. You ask nervously, "So, will be please be kind enough to cancel the charges against me?"

"Do you think that a sorry from you will repair my car?"

"I- please, sir, you've to understand that I'm in no condition to afford for the damages... I-I know I'm responsible but please understand-"

"You want to keep the place to yourself, you want me to drop the charges against you- what you think I am? Some sort of genie who'll grant all your wishes?"

"No- sir-"

"Besides you don't even sound so sorry," His voice sounds teasing and you exhale loudly.

This son of a-

"I don't have time for this bullshit so-"

"No sir please! I'll do anything, please cancel the charges. Then we can talk about your building, I'm sure we can come to a conclusion."

"Are you trying to make a deal with me?"

"Sir- I just-, please, please understand my situation," you almost beg.

The line is quiet for a long time and you're about to break into tears but then you hear his voice, "Fine, I'll text you a place. Meet me there at 8 tomorrow evening. Don't be late." Then the line is dead.

You're not dumb enough to go where a stranger tells you to go without telling anybody. So, on the morning of the appointment, you tell your friend the location of the restaurant and in case you were found with a slitted throat, at least the police will have a lead. After that you decide to google Choi, wanting to have a little bit more info on him. Sure enough, he's the son of a filthy rich businessman well known in the country and Choi, himself is the creator of two business companies.

Sure, it'd be nothing for him to dump your body in the water or poison your food.

Evening comes quicker than you expected and you rush to get ready. You pick a maroon knee length dress that is what you believe- hope- to be appropriate for the fancy restaurant. It's not like you have a lot of dresses to choose from. You take a cab and just as the clock hits five minutes past eight, you're rushing into the restaurant.

The receptionist asks you if have booked a seat to which you reply that you're here to meet Mr.Choi. Then you're led through a fancy lobby and into the private dining area, where the said male sits. He's dressed in a grey vest and a pressed linen white shirt underneath, with the sleeves rolled up, showing his muscular arms- damn.

His eyes meet yours and you feel an electricity jolt up your spine.

Lord please help me tonight.

"Good evening, Mr.Choi," you murmur, gently sitting down.

The bastard has the balls to smirk as he crosses his arms over his chest, "Good evening, Ms___. I was wondering if you bailed out on me."

You chuckle nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He grins, motioning towards the menu in front of you,"Shall we order?"

Your eyes glide over the fancy food and the fancier prices. 85$ for a fucking piece of meat?

After chewing on your lip and thinking too much about what to order, you go with a plate of salad and pasta.

"Do you have any wine preferences?" He asks, eyeing the wine menu. Why's he acting so nice? What's his deal?

"Er...I'll let you choose," you say.

After ordering a fancy bottle of wine, Choi folds his hands over the table and looks at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

"So..shall we talk business now?" You offer, unsure.

He nods but stays quiet which you take as a sign to start first, "I only have two things to ask for. Please cancel the charges and please give me a little more time to look for a place. It's impossible to find another place in 3 days. I've paid for the lease here and I've also ordered the furniture. And then there is a monetary issue. Please understand my situation."

He pretends to think, pursuing his lips, "Hmm, I'm afraid that's too much you're asking from me."

"Mr. Choi, I'm sure a man like you can help me with that much." You try to butter his ego.

"Again, I'm afraid you don't know me. If you had any idea about a man like me, you wouldn't say that." His eyes darken.

Fuck. He won't bulge. Why is he so stubborn?

"Sir- please, I sincerely apologize for my actions yesterday, I wasn't in my right mind."

"If only sorry could cover it," he says, nonchalant, leaning back into his chair. He eyes you quietly, his eyes scanning you carefully as your palms grow sweaty.

You are interrupted as the waiter serves you your dinner and pours you the wine. As soon as he's gone, you gulp down the wine, trying to calm yourself.

Damn, it tastes nice.

Choi laughs at your actions before an evil smile crawls up his face. You swallow, meeting his gaze. What's he thinking?

"You see, nothing comes for free. I'll take off the charges against you and I'll give you time to look for another place- actually no, I'll pay for a nicer place for you to open your shop. But in return you've to give me something."

Fuck. You eye him warily.

"What?" You squeak.

"Marry me."

You choke on your food very unceremoniously followed by a lot of coughs. You sputter, trying to get yourself under control. Meanwhile he simply watches you, a playful smile on his lips.

When you can somewhat speak, you breath, "I...I think I misheard you."

"You didn't. I asked you to marry me."

You gape at him, utterly confused, almost certain this is a dream or nightmare. He simply offers you silence as you try to process what he said.

You're left even more confused.

What? Marry him? What the actual fuck?

"Would you please... enlighten me?" You murmur.

He grins, leaning over the table, "You're thinking too much. It'll be a pretend marriage. I need someone who'll pretend to be my wife for a year or so, so that my father hands over his company to me- which he won't unless I get married and settle. It's as simple as that."

Your mouth only grows wider. That's nowhere near simple.

After processing his words in your head for a long time you mumble, "So...you need me to be your pretend wife for like a year and in return you cancel the charges and give me more time to look for a place?"

"It's actually more than that sweetheart. I'll pay every penny for your shop. I'll make sure you have a successful business. Be my pretend wife and I'll give you the biggest and best bakery shop this country has ever seen."

You're dumbfounded and you can only squeak out, "Is this some sort of a hoax?"

He chuckles, "Say yes and I'll have a contract prepared with all our terms and conditions."

"I- I need to think about it," you rush out. Think? Damn it, were you seriously considering it?

Yes, yes you were.

This is a lifetime opportunity.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Choi nods, "I'm sure you need to. But I expect an answer quickly. You've until tomorrow evening."

"H-huh?" You're lost.

He stands up putting on his jacket, "You've my number, call me when you make your decision." He gives you a look and just like that he's out of the room.

You're left with your half eaten plate of food.

"So you are telling me that a filthy rich, smoking hot motherfucker asked you to marry him?" Jane's voice echos through the phone.

You rub your temples, staring at your lap, "Yes."

"Bitch if you don't want to do this then give me his number. I'm more than willing to help him out."

"Jane, I'm serious."

"Me too, babe."

You groan, flopping into the bed. "Can you believe it? I still can't wrap my head around it." You whisper.

"You're thinking too much. It's not like you're going to be married to him forever."

"I know but still it's so scary...If I say yes I'll be living with a stranger for the next year."

"A sexy as sin stranger for that matter."

"Gosh- will you stop!"

"Okay okay," you hear her sigh. "Listen I know it's scary and all but this is a win win situation for you, think about it. You're going to be living as a millionaire's wife and when you're divorced you're gonna have your own shop. This is a lifetime opportunity, I mean how many of us gets this? This is like one of those romance movies where-"

"Okay I get it. Thank you for your precious help." You roll your eyes.

" You're welcome!" She laughs. "I'll be waiting for updates!"

"Piss off." You laugh, hanging up.

You stare at the ceiling, your mind numb. This is overwhelming- unreal. Why can't he just marry someone prettier, richer? He can have any woman he wants. Dozens of questions gather in your mind but despite the answers, you've made your decision.

You're going to get married.

A/N ➳ heyyy~ it's ya girl's birthday today lol! I've been wanting to write a fic like this for quite a while but yk, couldn't muster up the courage. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please please leave your feedbacks, my ask box is always open- I'll really appreciate it! 💖

Masterlist

Tag list: @chimikima @all-i-needislovee @peekabooseoksoon @masterpiecejoonie @sorrywonwoo @sweetiescoops @diamondsvts @insidesvt @bononswife @ayla-hathway @kpopssuregi @justasoftstan @top-crop @wainrain

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greaterlandscapes · 3 years

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My Dean Blunt Rotation aka High Fidelity Left A Bad Taste in My Mouth

For the past 2 to 3 months, my listening habits were teetering to an end; mostly via burnout by spontaneously listening to local artists daily and less likely of a musical discovery drought, whereas my interests of a certain artist or genre hasn't found its, sort of, "eureka", moment per se. I've been feeling less enthusiastic over the things i listen to since my friends have gradually lost their flare when it comes to discovering/exploring untapped parts of the music realm. Thus, in return, my enthusiasm not being reciprocated. It leaves an empty feeling from someone who has been yearning social interaction, may it be media being latched on the topic - it's a feeling that's been guilt-tripping me ever since I was stranded in the other end of the metro. I feel closed off, exposed to the crippling loneliness the lockdown has punished us: a defacto solitary confinement in a national level. Our act of staying online is also an act of staying alive outside.

To be fair though, it's a valid move to not boomerang compliments/gripes over an art you haven't consumed due to someone's autonomy. Your able body being to consume the art you wish to finish with free time is a luxury in of itself. The art is then failed to serve its purpose to reach its goal: You have squiggly lines heading straight to oblivion rather than swirling in the earlobes of a wandering cyber nomad. We, eventually, need to find something that could help us exit, rather than escape, from capital. We, in return, do not shut ourselves from the outside. Instead, we then tend to avoid the stress of protocols and outdoor fascism; Not avoid the indoor liberalism that is eating us alive and online. It's a capital punishment we never knew we signed up for ever since the onslaught of the virus and the state. Art for art's sake is nonexistent now, always has been, it seizes to ever since we went inside. Feeding off of a holographic meatloaf coming from a glowing screen. We have a real-life Karen acting as a nightlight in our rooms.

The COVID lockdown made us listen to music — both for better, for worse. For one, it made us pass most days. You could say the same for any sort of media: film, mixed media art, or whatever pre-Covid activity that sprung up during our time in isolation. For music, however, there was an uptick of new listeners that made others Wheel-of-Fortune the fuck out of their music discoveries in sites like RateYourMusic, Bandcamp, or even Sophie's Floorboard. We've continued to expand and became more open change of opinions and be less of a jackass towards someone else's opinions. On second thought, our opinions have been catalogued, leaving more notes than actual footprints of our previous listens. Our new discoveries made new bands and re-emerging bands, bands who faded to obscurity, crawl back in the surface with newfound interest from younger listeners (ie Panchiko, Jai Paul, and Dean Blunt) and this glowing, previously unseen and unexpected overwhelming support from fans of departed artists (ie SOPHIE, MF DOOM)

For the other, we've hogged gratuitous amounts of media, resulting into losing our primary direction as to how we want to consume our media based on the preconceived notions of what we want in our art. There is goodness in becoming directionless when you think about it, but there comes a cost to our identity as music listeners. Instead, we end up widening our tangents, falling in endless rabbit holes, having zero chances to emerge from the surface. In fact, i refuse to call it a "rabbit hole" instead i'd rather call it a "pipeline" of sorts — transitioning casual music fans into a full on, different, unique versions of themselves that would define them when laws and protocols have eased in the outside world. Our act of staying online has either made most of us break our character or enliven our past selves. The music pipeline is now more apparent, stretching the norms of what was once alienated by a silent majority, but now accepted as an acceptable form of expression. The more music we are exposed to has made casual listeners stranged out or react in ways that our personality have betrayed us or deemed not as acceptable to them. Still, not changing anything that was prominent pre-pandemic. Liberal cop behavior is stronger, now more dangerous than it ever was once perceived by the outside world.

HIGH FIDELITY? NO, THANK YOU.

Imagine a situation inside of a record, pre-pandemic of course, where you do not feel like lifting a record out from the shelf, instead, you window shop just for the sake of windowshopping. Capital and media made us think that going to record shops is a semi-productive activity. The age of discovery has died ever since High Fidelity romanticized and normalized the incelage of horny record diggers. Does this movie age well, yeah sure it does, for old 90s nerds at least. But did it translate well over in the past 20 or more years of events and tragedies that unfolded in pre-9/11 America? No it didn't. It was an age of free expression, only liberals would dream of whenever they take a sip of Guinness beer in their favorite dive bar.

Mind you, over a couple of months ago, it was my only chance in seeing why this movie was the talk of the town back when it was released. There's music, yeah, and attractive leading leadies, yeah, it has everything a 90s kid would love to salivate and drop their gonads over while they watch this movie. I obviously did not live to see the movie on opening day but i could imagine the scent that came out of that movie theater with attendees donning windbreakers and The Who shirts with popcorn dressing stains on their plastic cups. If there was a Filipino counterpart to this movie, i'd bet corporate champions Eraserheads and Rivermaya would soundtrack their music over and have either Tado or have Boy 2 Quizon, but i sense it to age like milk more than it could age like fine wine due to the senseless jokes one can execute in a Cubao or Cartimar record store.

John Cusack is obviously the incel in question here: a damaged, vengeful ex who constantly fails to live his partner's expectations and weaponizes his personality over the situations that has nothing to do with his interests. I spent the entire time being absolutely disgusted over the spineless responses of John Cusack's leading character. The movie then treads on flashbacks with John Cusack's failed relationships and what he could do to move on from each and one of them. If i could stand a SONA for 3 hours then I can't stand John Cusack being the dull entry point to incel, making more reasons why you should hate record store clerks who don't give an iota of shits to someone's inviting rapport. High Fidelity is opium for massive music circle jerks who can't take a single breathe of fresh air or a single quota of touching grass. There's more targeting weak and inferior guys and hot women who dump dumb overconfident dudebros more than the actual "music recs" in the entire movie. The more I think about this movie, the more I realize how our personality is in line towards Dick, the record store being unmercifully dunked on by the movie's two leading characters. He's an angel in the world of cynical bastards, witnessing both demons pitchforking record store customers in the ass while they're purchasing the latest Sonic Youth album.

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I believe that Jack Black, the dark horse of High Fidelity, has a pleasing personality more than an irritating demeanor due to this behavior in the record store. In fact, outside of the record store, Jack Black doesn't seem to take the business is your pleasure act pretty seriously. Unlike John Cusack's character he brought his obsession over involving a record in an important memory/point of his life. There is so much stuff that has happened outside of the record store, so much for Rolling Stone and NME being the bible of music at the time, endlessly christening and shilling artists that believe to become the second coming of the Beatles. The music references here however are treated as fluff than it is a mechanism that would drive the senseless plot forward. If anything, there are events pointed out in the event that doesn't have anything to do with the life of the characters.

If anything, this movie did a great job at capturing the feeling of music bros being dumped on the wayside by a mature set of characters and how their current conditions aren't perfumed by the studios' liking of having to Cinderella story the shit out of a bunch of normal record store owners. The reality is in the reaction of one's social capital being invaded and we're here to witness how those reactions panned out in 2021. This is a villainous depiction of music nerds being the salt of the earth, the bane of all media discussion, still reflective of the insufferable salt of cyberspace found in music forums like 4chan and RYM. High Fidelity is a pipeline of 90s musicology, a dreaded fever dream of an owner waiting for the decade to end, trends ossifying and re-emerged by the hands of nostalgia-savvy individuals. It was, at its time, every music-movie nerd's excuse equivalent of Scott Pilgrim VS. The World. There are memories worth remembering and cherishing, and this movie isn't one of them.

DEAN BLUNT, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

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In the past two weeks I've been fancying myself into sitting down and listening to different projects from the ever elusive, UK-based sound artist Dean Blunt. The first time i chanced upon his music wasn't too long ago - albeit a recent one in the time of COVID - was when I randomly stumbled upon his records at a Spotify recommendations section under John Maus (yeah lol i know the implications whenever his name is mentioned) - but then i was enamored by his online presence so quickly I put everything down and dedicated an hour or two researching about this man's music.

Other than the fact that his album "The Redeemer" wasn't the best record to start off in journeying through his discography: ending up disgusted and borderline bored even and I was more likely to lambast this record's aimless, pretentious art-pop inflections. By the end of the day, it was a preference long solidified by his undying fanbase. According to his hardcore fans, the music isn't really music, evaluating it as a free form of sound art, rather than sticking to a structured and conventional cues; the genre is nullified by most analysts of the arts. The growing interest of the general public towards Dean Blunt's pranks and antics have long appealed to my tastes as a chaotic neutral individual. Pranks that are well executed to piss off UK gallery connoisseurs and entertain ironic attendees who'd shit on the art piece rather than participate in it.

More of the resources I've found about Dean Blunt online: numerous aliases and collaborations that lasted around almost 2 decades. The most notable of all them, at least for my money, are either Hype Williams, a duo consisting of Dean and frequent collaborator Inga Copeland, and Babyfather, an art performance parodizing the pirate radio culture in the UK. I have not delved enough in Blunt's body of work to evaluate everything and what i could synthesize from it. For now, I enjoyed it as a form of entertainment. Well, color me impressed because Dean Blunt isn't clowning around, he, in fact, makes blissful and transcendental music from left to right.

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Dean Blunt was the only few artists that made me want to binge on their discography. His movements in his music has attracted this pesky listener who thinks that being mysterious is a plus. I mean, look at me who thinks The Paul Institute, Panchiko, and Burial are the greatest artists that have walked the face of the earth.

The most I've enjoyed from Dean Blunt's discography are his mixtapes and collaborations: preferably his Soul Fire and ZUSHI, both of which were packaged as B-sides or supplemental releases rather than major releases such as the Babyfather project or the Black Metal releases. His knack for blurring the lines between genres still fascinate me as of this writing, and it continues to amaze me how he doesn't seize to compromise his art, he's here to prove a point and it sells quite well despite the lack of direction in his music. Blunt's music has more aggressive and hazy texture than the hollow, wide, soulless structure of art-pop/hypnagogic pop released today. He creates terrains from the rubble of his country's current shortcomings. The music overlaps the actual intentions with abstract concepts, becoming deconstructed down the line. In Babyfather, noise music coincides with Blunt's amateurish rapping. In Black Metal, Blunt isolates himself along with the assisted skeletal guitar playing. Both projects throwing all tropes in a vaccum alongside Blunt, who he himself would sought to become a personification of a musical void.

(Excerpt from the Babyfather album review in TinyMixtapes)

Dean Blunt is an entity that wishes to become one person, but no, this isn't a figure in a specific art form; this isn't Banksy, this isn't Bob Ong, this is made by one person, clearly it is if you listen closely, and it's been entrancing me ever since his presence was felt on the horizons of the internet. Dean Blunt, what the actual fuck.

#dean blunt #high fidelity #music #film #music review #2021 #hype williams #Youtube

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