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#like am i crazy. am i making shit up
nicky-jr · 7 months
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you wanna know one thing about the trial verdict that really gets me. that i dont think ive ever heard anyone really talk about. is just the implications of morgan being alive in this new timeline at all. like theoretically the only significant change made to the timeline was morgan ending up with jodie instead of glenn. specifically keeping morgan alive wasnt part of the ultimatum. so wouldnt that imply that glenn being in morgans life eventually butterfly-effects into her death? that her being with someone other than him would keep her alive, whether through a series of actions or just one decision? of course, its hard to blame someone for causing something like that. its not like they couldve known, or really even do anything about it. but technically, its true. the evidence is right there. the love of his life was better off without him. so is that fucked up or what
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suntails · 1 month
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I’m going to paint you a picture of modern communication, and how it is fundamentally broken.
Let’s look at one friend. You chat pretty much everyday, and mostly talk to this person on twitter and discord, with occasional tumblr DMs. That’s three places you talk. But that’s actually not true, because you also have each other’s priv twitters and talk there as well. That’s four. Now account for, let’s say, one post reply per account per person, in addition to your DMs. That’s eight. But that’s ALSO not true, because not only do you talk in discord DMs with each other, but you’re in a friend group server as well! And you talk in those channels together! That’s nine.
This is one friend.
Now look around you. How many friends, how many mutuals are you in contact with. A few, a handful, a dozen, more? How many accounts per person do you have, how many places can you send each other posts, devolve into separate topics and conversations? How many people text you as well. Friends, family, coworkers? What do you do day to day around catching up, what IRL commitments will rip you away long enough to let the pile build again?
I can’t do it. I cannot live an actual life in the real world and balance this much interaction, it’s crushing. I reply to a friend’s post because I’m interested in the subject, I want to have a discussion! I WANT to talk about it with them, but I immediately kick myself for adding another conversation to the pile. Day by day, I ignore messages for hours on end and watch mountains pile around me, to reply en masse at the end of the night to let the cycle repeat. I wake up to six discord DMs and as I clear the third, the first replies back again.
We weren’t meant to have thirty simultaneous conversations. We weren’t. And you know in your bones that the number isn’t an exaggeration.
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chimerahyperfix · 17 days
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Being frozen in time definitely does something to you. Physically it cages you. Mentally it throws you into the longest dream you could ever have. It's not comfortable-- far from it in fact-- but you've grown to look forwards to it, when you loose. It's better than being mashed to dark paste at least.
You're frozen right now, in fact. Waiting in silence for time to loop back. Stuck with your thoughts and a vauge feeling of a dream. The house is around you and you're moving through it. Empty rooms and endless hallways, curling and twisting in ways that make them feel alive despite the lack of any living thing that isn't you. No sad monsters, no frozen bodies, no dark stains. There doesn't seem to be an exit.
The dreams you have when frozen seem to correlate to how you're doing emotionally. Most of them have been lost to time, like most things in your life now. Dreams, wounds, emotional bonds; everything is turning back with you, and that’s started to do something to you, because now you can predict the actions of those around you with quite a bit of accuracy. You can recall little bits of things, but the further back you go is just static. There was a bunch of dumb things that you can’t piece back together anymore, there were times with those you love, there was endless rage flowing through your very being, and there was this. The desperation. The empty halls of the very House you’ve worked so hard to protect.
You want out.
You've kept count of how many times you've been frozen. How many times you've died. How many loops. 61 is the counter and it's far, far too many times to relive the same day over again. You grew tired of the monotony by the tenth go around. Twenty five felt like a stab wound. Forty, like you were being split in two. Big 6-0 felt like drowning. You don't feel real anymore.
But that's fine! You can still see the good in this, if you stretch your imagination like taffy, as far as it'll go. It's better to be just you, just one person, than everyone else! You can live with the weight of the country on your shoulders for a bit longer, if only to keep it off of Euphrasie's. You’re doing this for her! For everyone. You can do it for a bit longer. You just need to find the King’s weakness, or something. Make a more powerful potion, or scrap together the materials to make a second craft bomb, or, or something! You’ll find it soon enough. You’re smart! You can do this!
You have to.
You turn down the hallway. Find yourself on an entirely different floor. Just as much of a ghost town. Just ice and cold and tiredness, your breath forming clouds in the air. That’s fine. This is just a dream or something, anyway. You’ll wake back up at your desk any time, with the looming vials of all sorts of toxic stuff you keep drinking that you crabbing neglected to put away because you didn’t think time would crabbing loop, because realistically, WHY would you assume that would happen? Preposterous! Ignore the burning feeling in your throat and the smell of sugar and push on. Wait for it to start all over again.
Because it has to be you, doesn’t it? You wished for this, or something. You don’t remember. It was a long time ago. It has to be you, because only you have the power. It HAS to be you, because who else would it be? Euphie? She’s already got enough on her hands. Mirabelle? You’d rather die. It’s better you do this than the ones you love.
It has to be you.
it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be you it has to be
It's sucks, having to be the one to do it. Your limit was a long time ago.
You can't do this forever.
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itsalwaysforyou · 1 month
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jay not asking coach about letting lonnie onto the team bc he doesn’t want to do anything coach might disagree with…….
#‘coach trusts me…’ like what if i cried#man i wish they made more of a thing of jay being TEAM CAPTAIN#<- i’ve made a post before abt how easily he gives it up & jay not liking positions of power etc etc#but i do think he treats the role like it could be taken away at any moment#coach TRUSTS him. holy shit coach trusts him#the first positive adult figure in his life trusts him to take care of the team#train them and critique them and lead them to victory#and coach probably wouldn’t have cared abt lonnie being on the team#but jay is sooooo hesitant to ask#coming from the ‘if you want it take it and if you can’t take it break it’ guy#like this is the one thing he doesn’t want to risk breaking…….#and then obviously he gives it up!!!!!#he gives up the thing coach TRUSTED HIM WITH bc it was the only way to let lonnie on the team#& mr ‘my only dislike is women being unhappy’ was like I CANNOT REST UNTIL LONNIE IS ON THE TEAM#it’s suchhhhh a sweet gesture not only from a hashtag feminism standpoint#but also character wise for jay#like this precious thing that coach has trusted him with but didn’t really want that much anyway…..#it’s going to mean more to lonnie if she had it. even though it means everything to jay#oh it makes me crazy#damn my mum was right. i think too deeply about things#im like i analyse things a normal amount and then i’m writing essays about 1 line from descendants 2#I AM UNWELL#anyway. jesus christ#descendants#jay son of jafar#EDIT i’m not finished actually#do you think jay fears the repercussions? what would happen if he went against coach’s word?#bc sure. he knows coach is nice. he knows auradon isn’t like the isle#but. ‘you don’t want to be at my house at dinner time’…….#he is still scared of his dad. you know. he can never get the lamp he can never do anything right
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faunandfloraas · 18 days
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i love being friends with girls and then they get a boyfriend and then he becomes the center of her entire existence and all she talks about and all she focuses on and i sit there and i smile and i nod and i feel myself becoming genuinely evil
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dykedvonte · 2 months
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An independent Courier would actually hate being in charge or enforcing standards in New Vegas. At least in my mind.
They made Vegas independent but I feel like that playthrough/style so clearly makes it apparent it isn't for them. They are making Vegas a place where people can live freely, like how House genuinely didn't care what people did but without the behind-the-scenes Big Brother surveillance he did. Having every family, faction, and other influence group or person comes to them about alliances or rules would be draining, and boring, one note.
In an independent Vegas, The Courier is also Independent. They like getting rid of lines and borders that impede freedom, they like to help give people the tool but I don't believe they want to be the one to shape it.
#a lot of this is like how ncr started but then lost its way#the courier would like a democracy but like one that is truly run by the people like if public votes or letting people split off and embrac#their traditions instead of a universal standard like house changing the tribes caesar wiping out so many cultures and the ncr whole thing#with their money being worthless in territories they have not taken control over cause people dont want to#the courier doesnt want to be house 2.0 and i see that so often in peoples interpretations of that ending and I just dont think its the cas#like theyd stay to help it stablize for a but ultimately i think theyd leave to clean up any loose ends or just travel the mojave like#a lot of the dialouge good or evil is very much like the courier doesnt want the responsiblity to be placed on them rather they choose what#they want to take on that is not presented in sort of a scenerio where they losely rule NV cause everyone else would go to them even if the#say they arent in charge#i at least for the follower quest tell them their choices are theirs and no one elses so i see that as their outlook so im biased#cause im also good karma just for how nice I am and I like doing crazy adventure shit and its actually hard to have fun when everyone hates#you for being legion#anyway make of this what you will#fallout#fallout new vegas#fnv#the courier#courier six#courier fnv#the strip fnv#robert edwin house#caesar’s legion#new california republic#independent vegas
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quirkle2 · 4 months
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who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)
His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.
The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.
The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.
Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.
Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.
Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.
He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.
Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.
He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”
Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.
He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.
They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.
Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.
Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.
He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.
It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.
He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.
If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.
He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.
Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.
He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.
He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it—because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.
The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.
His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.
Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.
Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.
Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.
Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.
His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.
Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.
Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.
Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.
Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.
The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.
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Big win for Sonine/Sontails fans this January!!
Not a single "brother" or "little bro" spoken between them in the entirety of Sonic Prime
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insanesonofabitch · 3 months
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I just had a dream about spn s16 (spnwin s2???) and it was so good and they were like almost entirely leaning towards destiel even though Dean hasn’t been with Cas yet like he’s been searching for him (for apparently 90 years in heaven time now?) and there’s like a Jess cameo and another insane samjess-deancas parallel and they DID somehow become a part of THEE (spn-canon) Bible (like The Winchester gospel) so there were hints of Chuck won truthing in there and it was so so insane it got me sent to a mental hospital.
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toxooz · 4 months
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i Need to take up embroidery now rIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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this woman at the place i was volunteering at asked me my pronouns, which suprised me as she was older ish, maybe 50
and then she told me after i told her my pronouns (she/her- you know, like a liar) that her son was trans
and i was like -oh
you think that i look trans
you are sitting here and perceiving me not as a woman
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lucydacusgirl · 5 months
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Trying to buy jeans that fit is like an actual fucking nightmare I go here are the measurements of my body because I know exactly what the circumference of my waist and hips are and the size guide goes great! Here’s what size to get based on the circumference of your waist and hips :) and I go so if I buy these they will fit my measurements. Because you’ve put there how many centimetres it is. I know how many centimetres my hips and waist are, are you telling me the truth about your trousers? And they go yep. This is the size of our trousers. And then I go hmm your size guide says these run small I will get the size up because even though I know that based on my measurements I should get the smaller size but I want to be on the safe side. And then I try them on and they’re too fucking small even though the waistband is apparently ten centimetres bigger than my waist.
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good-wine-and-cheese · 2 months
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Gambling Apocalypse Tenma AU
As I rewatch Kaiji I inevitably end up wanting to combine show I like with other show I like and stuffing fav characters into show. So here we are.
This was uh going to be a short summary type thing but I accidentally wrote a novella about it sorry
This AU starts off with a much more depressive Tenma. After Tobio's death, rather than immediately pour his grief into developing a robot version of his son, he recedes into himself, psychologically paralyzed, likely turning to alcohol to drown out his anguish.
His mental state is taken as an opportunity within the Ministry of Science to have him ejected from his position; Tenma was never the most well-liked director, and there were those with ambition to usurp him that would jump at the chance. Not that he especially cares in his state.
He's eventually dragged out of his stagnation by Ochanomizu - who, inadvertently, becomes the very catalyst pushing Tenma to develop a robot replacement to his child. This was not what he meant by encouraging Tenma to fill the void left by his son.
...But, well, he is no longer the director of the Ministry of Science. His access to limitless government funds and resources for "scientific research" has been cut off, and this is a project he cannot finance on his own. He can't ask Ochanomizu for help, but...interestingly...a representative of a certain shady organization known as the Teiai Corporation reaches out to him, offering to finance and support his project. A sane and well-minded Tenma might think better of it, but grieving and desperate, Tenma accepts their offer and is able to create a robot in the image of his beloved Tobio. For a while, there's joy in his life.
But the bill, as ever, comes due: Tenma must pay up, and the very resources that had been at his disposal will certainly ensure that he will, or else. Of course, he doesn't have the money; instead, he is given a choice. He can relinquish the robot Tobio in order to wipe out his debt - the child is a sophisticated and powerful robot, after all - or he can participate in a certain illicit event hosted by the Teiai Corporation.
It's nothing major...just a four-hour gambling cruise with a collection of desperate, damned souls that were also swept into debt with Teiai. The conditions are simple: Those who choose to participate are given a chance to clear their debts wholesale should they win. And should they lose...?
Well...no one really knows what happens to the losers seized by Teiai. It's said that they labour away their debts under Teiai's watchful eye and are freed once their work has covered their debts, though it's rumoured that most perish before they reclaim freedom.
There's only one answer Tenma can give, of course; he's not willing to lose Tobio again.
Thus is Tenma's debut into the Gambling Apocalypse, where he must become cutthroat in order to survive; if he wants to see his son again, he must make choices that will doom the hapless to miserable servitude, with a nonzero chance it ends in their death.
He survives the cruise, but of course, it was hardly enough to clear his debt; the cruise was never going to be the end of it. Teiai doesn't let go of its victims that easily. He will be called on again: this is a weight that hangs over him, all while he returns to his son Tobio. The same hands that have pushed innocents into hell must now be the hands that can embrace his child.
He wants to protect Tobio from the truth and enjoy what peaceful moments he's allowed with his son, but it's difficult. It's difficult to be the parent of a child who cannot understand the danger that looms ahead; this "happy" home is not to last. Tenma angers quickly and easily. He turns that anger onto Tobio.
As Teiai's games become more and more vicious and unrelenting, as his conscience holds onto the last vestiges of thread that remain, Tenma even threatens, once, to give the boy in: it would all end, then; the debt would be clear and no longer would he have to endure Tobio's childish annoyances, his ungratefulness.
The next time that Tenma is beckoned, Tobio takes matters into his own hands. He does understand, now; and he would have, if only Tenma had bothered to explain sooner. If it's a debt that needs clearing, he will work. He will help his father clear his debts however he can. Of course, it's difficult to find work as a child; but a circus troupe finds amusement in the idea of a child robot, and takes him in. He is whisked into a certainly unpleasant working situation, but he remembers his father, and what he must be enduring. Tobio, also, will endure.
When Tenma returns, Tobio is gone.
All that held Tenma back from becoming something monstrous has disappeared. All that kept him going has disappeared. When he is called upon by Teiai, there is no knowing what sort of person might come out the other end; whether a monster clawing his way to freedom regardless of what actions he must take, or a desolate husk surrendering defeat.
There is still a light, however dim: Found by Professor Ochanomizu and rescued from the circus, Tobio - now Atom - is able to shed light on the situation which Tenma took great pains to keep hidden from his old friend. With time running out, Ochanomizu and Atom must do what they can to save Tenma - from Teiai, and from himself.
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UHHH and that's a wrap!!!! I couldn't quite decide which way Tenma would go after hitting Rock Bottom in this AU, and tbh it would really depend on the kind of mental state he's in at the time. On the one hand I like the narrative of Ochanomizu and Tobio racing to prevent Tenma from crossing a line (actual outright murder probably) - or having to pull him back into humanity (and yknow, his ensuing penance)
But on the other hand having him get sent to Teiai Evil Hell Prison would be interesting because a) there's a lot of narrative potential having Tenma faced with what Teiai is doing with the people that lose the games and b) need him to decimate the foreman at chinchirorin Kaiji style
Tenma's whole character is definitely a much different guy in this AU, he starts off pretty sympathetic, the guy you wanna root for, he just ends up having an inverse character arc where he gets worse instead of better. His conflict with "Tobio" is also kind of reversed, less about being unsatisfied with Tobio as a son and more not being able to handle the fact that he probably has intense PTSD now and isnt capable of coping with it in a way conducive to being a parent (or like, coping at all)
Anyway that's gambling apocalypse tenma!!!
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ningtual · 19 days
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youtube
oh i'm gonna be so annoying about this album..... i even took notes while listening to this just now...
#first of all supernova i'm gonna be so annoying abt that song i can feel it in my bones the instrumental is crazy the vocal layering is#making me ascend to the sky fr i LOOOOVEEE this sound for them and i can't wait to hear it in full!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#next set the tone actually a great sound for an aespa beside structurally it reminds me of the savage bsides like i'll make you cry or even#iconic but yeah she's soooo aespa to me and i love it too#then mine instantly put it as one of my favorites already bc LISTENNNNNNN darkspa i love you so much i love this salty&sweet darker prettie#and sluttier sister and s&s was already all of that omfg#next licorice the BASSSSS are we hearing her??????? INSANE and again aespa and their heavenly vocal layering i just can't i'm foaming at th#mouth as i'm typing this i'm so serious#okay to the fun songs bahama is gonna be my feel good summer beach vibe jam i already know it and if better thing wouldve gotten an album#she wouldve been on there. perfect summer sound#long chat too she sounds really cute maybe not as memorable to be as bahama or even live my life but DAMN i love a good upbeat track#prologue feels like a little interlude to me and the BABY IM A WEIRDO :D I KNOW ! was so silly sdjfksjfdf plsssss but a cute sound overall#live my life TURN THAT SHIT UPPPPPPPPPP the most cheery track and i'm strapped in to listen to it until i die. also an eri track to me#melody ahhh my reve daughters ik they would be proud of this song it's sounds very beautiful already#much more up my alley than their previous ballads ngl#in conclusion i'm gonna be the most annoying person on the dash once all these songs are revealed to the public and#i am already sosososososososo in love with this album what the FACK#000
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puthyflapps · 6 months
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Swifties prove everyday that they’re the dumbest people on the internet and that’s really saying something cuz I’ve dealt directly with blarkes
#1) swifites always being racist toward Beyoncé#2) swifities doxxing a Palestinian girl and sending her info to the IDF cuz she said that there were better options for Time’s PotY#3) swifites beefing with North West – a literal child – cuz they thot she “shaded” Taylor#4) swifites commenting snake emojis on Kim K’s insta posts thinking they’re doing something other than driving up her engagement and lining#her pockets#t swift#also these are all just annoying things I’ve seen happen TODAY#I cannot wait until we are released from whatever govt psyop we’ve been under for the past few years cuz I’m over this endless string of#swift propaganda 🔫🔫🔫 it’s literally insane and no matter how many times I block people or hit not interested in posts I am still forced to#see shit about her like it is never ending and it’s so fucking exhausting like the way white women in particular make being a swifite their#whole personality is so embarrassing!!! THIS EOMAN CANNOT SING YALL!! AND IM TIRED OF BEING NICE AND SAYING SHE HAS DEVENT SONG WRITING#SKILLS CUZ SHE DOESNT!! EVERYTHING ABOUT HER IS MEDIOCRE AT BEST!!! SHE CANNOY SING AND HER LYRICS ARE THE MUSICAL EQUIVALENT OF WATTPAD FF!#I am so tired of this bullshit and I used to be able to find reprieve in football but no more!! cuz her and her annoying cult have#infiltrated that too like this shit is annoying and I feel like I’m going crazy cuz she’s everywhere and not in an organic way. In a very#strategic marketing capitalistic way and I love The Wilds but I hate how the fandom has like woven TS into everything there too like#I think I’m gonna commit a crime. I think imma toss someone through a brick wall cuz I’m losing it
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themanwhowouldbefruit · 2 months
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my doctor was sooooo fucking worthless and unhelpful im going to masturbate and i hope it fucking kills me
#“no need for follow up”#“yeah you did have several cysts we scrapped off your remaining ovary but. dw about it. idk why they were there. dw about it. oh also your#ovary on that side was freakishly huge but. dw about it. it might go away. dw about it#*doctor shrug emoji* “#“go see a gyno next year maybe. but not me im too important for that. go find and onboard a gyno to your situation. next year maybe idk lol”#he barely even looked at my incision like#this fucking appointment could have been an email. or a phone call. or they just could have let me start driving again. also i forgot to ask#if i can stop drinking ensure now or after the 6 weeks? cause that shit cost $$$$. but he probably would have been super unhelpful if i had#fr fr this guy only wanted to give me the time of day when he thought i might have fun cancer inside and now he's like gtfo!!!! get your#fugly cancerless ass out of here!!!! recover from a major surgery on your own you swagless cancerless loser 🤣 we arent helping your#swagless ass!!!#anyway it seems weird and fucked up that im was never offered to see a physical therapist and i guess am going to have to blindly trust my#abs they sliced thru are healing or whatever and to rawdog my own physical recovery of my muscles? even just dumb shit like. my center of#gravity has drastically changed since the mass removal and my back hurts like shit all the time because all my posture muscles were built up#for when i had an extra 30 pounds of cyst hanging in the front and my posture and walking reflected that. and i lowkey don't know how#hard i am able to be with my healing incision because its really tight and makes me hunch forwards still. like i would really like to know#how much i can safely or maybe should be forcing my skin and incision to stretch. without damage? is that crazy#am i crazy???#this shit is why i didnt see a doctor for 2 years until my problems had snowballed into a 30 pounds ovarian cyst that was crushing my other#organs and had one of my kidneys all backed up with piss. and even getting emergency treatment for it everyone was like. how did you like it#get this bad?? how could you not know you needed to seek medical treatment???? like. bro. seeking medical treatment isnt even a guarantee to#get medical treatment.#anyway he said my “remaining ovary seemed low key polycystic but dw about it. don't quote me on that im not dealing with it.”#bro i dont want to doctor google it i wanted an actual doctor to deal with it. fuck you.#like. maybe even a doctor who knows my situation so i dont have to struggle with getting someone to believe me and take me seriously.#but whatever. back to trying to figure out the daily protein and extra calories my body needs for recovery via doctor google i guess.#its fine 🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬
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