i was on vacation okay and i got sick okay and ive been preparing for college okay ????? accept my excuses or else ur stinky

here is a lil doodle to tide you all over while i do everything except what im supposed to be doing

its a little sick christophe, inspired by me two weeks ago being a little sick sara (luckily the ER doctor let me keep the backup vial of blood they drew from me 😎 so far ive painted with it and made a ring out of it) (so i guess the whole "puking on the floor of a gas station bathroom into a [leaking] bag because i didnt have the strength to keep myself positioned over the toilet" thing was worth it 😎😎)

ignore the fact i disappeared that was simple winter hibernation ( still sick and coughing out my lungs btw )

for a basically nonexistent context it’s currently 1:50 am my paper is literally just on my mattress hello hard surface who and this is the most abhorrent lighting and i COOKED (dubious) 🔥🔥🔥‼️🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🌶️🌶️✨🌶️😋😋🌶️😋😋🥺🥺💖💖✨✨

one of my ocs grgrggrjekslalksj I need to talk about them more on here nyways yeah uhm bye read the tags thanks

... why he sit like this

He was shaking like a newborn deer and those dark, teary eyes made him look almost as innocent.

What part of the City was he from? The middle ring, probably, or maybe all the way inside the beating heart of the company. Definitely not the outer ring. You know too well that people die in the outer ring.

That's the thought that crosses your mind, did people just not die if you got far enough in? Maybe the company just cleaned up their messes better when you could pay them more. You could pay to keep your innocence if you had enough money. You could pay to have anything in the whole world, probably.

The three carbon coins you've got in one pocket- all you have to your made up name- aren't even enough to replace the near-empty pack of cigarettes in the other.

A cigarette would probably buy the poor bastard a few moments of calm.

So, fine. A cigarette for him, and one for you too, 'cause for all you like to get on him about being too innocent, it never does get easier.

i wanna kis (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) it's almost midnight ladies u know what that means .. (yearning hours)

i try to keep it light n breezy on here, but i think i need to write some shit down somewhere. so here is a dreary little tale

so in august of last year, i had covid. it felt like a two-week-long flu, but then it was over. a year ago FUCKING PRECISELY, the Problems started. i went to multiple doctors, but no one paid me any attention, and i was told not to make a fuss, everyone was having post-covid these days, and it'd all go away by itself. further, in a breathtaking display of shittiness, my dad told me to stop being selfish and burden my mother (who, after all, has actual problems!) and himself with my shit. so i gave up. i tried to go on with my life as if nothing had happened, to get a job and finish college, and hoped that the Problems would indeed go away by themselves.

since then i have sat by and watched my body get weaker and weaker and it scared the shit out of me, but there was literally no one who would listen to me or believe me. i lost what little endurance i started out with until i couldn't make the 10-minute walk to the grocery store without almost passing out. i did faint in the grocery store, actually, and i just went home and told no one bc they would have just told me it was my fault, that if i exercised, or kept a proper sleep schedule, or what the fuck ever, i would be in the bloom of my health. for a year now, randomly, my heartbeat goes weird. i started getting dizzy spells out of nowhere with no apparent cause. i live alone. i was frightened all of the time of the day i'd just not manage to take care of myself anymore. i was convinced that if i asked my friends or boyfriend for help, they'd believe i was lying too. i had no idea what was going on with my body. post-covid can, it looks like right now, manifest any fucking symptom ever, which means it could also be anything else.

because the dizziness was getting so dire i barely dared to leave the house anymore, i decided to try seeing my gp again. this time they discovered i'm so fucking anemic it's like a dracula stole half my blood away. after i was Urged to go to the hospital, i arrived at an ER bursting with people and naturally presumed i'd have to hang around for a couple hours, but after i showed them my blood test results i was absolutely Rushed into observation. i got an iron transfusion and am on several new meds as of last week.

today there was an article in the paper (yeah, my parents still subscribe to the local paper) on the one dude in this area who treats post-covid. it lists every symptom that i have. it also says that apparently somehow covid fucks with whatever it is that makes red blood vessels. this could have been explained to me a year ago. it wasn't. i had to let it get exceedingly bad to be deemed worthy of help. that doctor doesn't even have a solution yet. just "eat beets, take walks, and exercise a bit but not too much". i still took the article and put it in my journal bc it's the first thing i've seen in a year that has validated me.

so here i am. my health is in the toilet. i am an absolute twitching anxious mess. even if everything goes perfectly with the new meds (which it rarely does for anyone, does it) it may take weeks or even months until i get to just feel normal again. i still get dizzy every day. sometimes i have a hard time focusing on reading or writing. i can't work. i can't do anything strenuous for fear of passing out. i'm staying with my parents because i'm not sure, if i went back to my apartment, if i could manage to keep myself alive. i haven't seen my boyfriend in weeks. there are friends i'm not meeting, ladies i'm not going on dates with, parties and other events that i'm missing. every time i have to text someone saying i'm not well enough to go out quite yet, i'm afraid they'll get tired of my shit and stop contacting me. my life is basically on hold until further notice.

and there are still people who have been hit way worse by post-covid than me. i am at least not bedridden, and i still have my sense of smell and taste, and it seems like my symptoms can be improved. i'm not saying this to self-flagellate, i'm saying it because it's ludicrous how callously the whole disease gets treated. people want covid as a whole out of sight and out of mind so that we can all be such productive little cogs in the capitalist machine and act like the pandemic is over. tons of people are still catching it. others will never be the same from the aftereffects of it, and there straight up is no cure for that. like what is fucking wrong with us as a world that we consider that acceptable collateral damage. for what, even? just so that we can continue avoiding taking stock of the current episteme that Does Not fucking work for most of us in the first place? just so that somewhere, for the gratification of someone, line go up? why was it so important for us, a year or so ago, to reestablish this figment of normalcy when, again, what was normal was already not working out?

I'm only one more flickr browsing spree away from having more drafts than followers skull emoji

okay uhm i have unreal engine 5 for more than a month or two now but i haven't done anything yet bcs for some reason it refuses to open and i haven't tried to fix that yet <//3 but hey today i finally searched more about rpg maker (which unfortunately uhh i likely will not get into yet bcs free trial is time-limited and i don't want to buy just yet) and unity (currently getting it downloaded! hopefully i don't run out of space haha)

Sometimes I see posts about hyperfixations and I go hmmm yeah relatable. But I am not diagnosed with ADHD so I feel like I shouldn’t reblog cause it’s not for me

.

baby sons alert 

I have been trying to unravel the threads of all the comp-allo feelings for four years now and I still don't know excactly what the fuck is going on. Like, I'm asexual. One hundred percent. It makes so much sense. I feel like I have sorted all the things I used to think was sexual attraction into their proper boxes.

Then there's the whole romantic deal... which, ouch. I feel like I may have made a breakthrough this weekend though. I've been at a folk-festival where a bunch of my friends were and I met this new guy. It was like quite quickly after beginning the conversation with him and a friend of mine, my brain just went "Heyo he looks good and seems really nice and cool how about if we dated him?" And then it just ran away like "now the most important thing is that he likes you and you get to know him" and this is what I used to identify as a crush. But then I tried examining those emotions, and I realised I don't particularly want to kiss his mouth or hold his hand and stuff. I honestly think it may just be the loneliness going "we need more people in our life" and knowing that people get together romantically way faster than with friends (which is frustrating but oh well).

The more time passes the more I think I'm aro. I love my girlfriend very much and I love our relationship, but it isn't important to me that it's a romantic relationship.

I honestly think it's quite important that I experienced this crush with the folk gang, because we are just all really cuddly together. Like when I'm standing with friends from there I am usually touching at least one person and often we are just in a pile and like stroking other people's hair and backs, and that made it really easy to seperate a feeling of wanting human contact from romantic shit. In my perfect world I think I have a bunch of close friends who are just really comfortable with touch. That would be nice.

Trying for so long to understand feelings through an allo lense is so fucked up.

ghost who eloped with his spouse, who moved into a small house for about a month before he had to fly out on a missions outside of england. hell, the place was pretty bare and he couldn't even manage to put in some nice furniture before price told him to get his arse into a plane to russia for a five month long mission. didn't even get to enjoy some honeymoon before his job fucked him over.

safe to say, he hadn't established a routine at his new home yet ever since he moved out of his barracks room at the base. he was only at home for a little while, it only makes sense that he doesn't know where everything goes sometimes. and of course, he somehow misplaced himself.

at the end of the deployment, he was too tired to even care. his eyes were so heavy and tired that he made his way back to his old barracks room, kicking the door down and throwing his bags to the side (and scaring poor soap who was asleep on the bed, since of course he's the one who took ghost's old room back at the base).

his eyes met the scot, a little confused as to why he sees someone on his bed.

"whit the hell!? lt!? did the missus kick ye out?" soap groaned, scared shitless as he tries to calm his heart.

the question took him off guard, and he stood by the doorway quietly, just processing it.

"... i have a spouse."

"ye eedjit." soap shook his head, telling him to leave soon or else an angry spouse will buzz off his mohawk.

poor ghost, rushed out of the base in the middle of the night trying to get back home. he's got a lot of apologizing to do. hopefully his spouse was asleep and didn't realize that he practically drove twice over the speed limit and possibly ran over someone just to get to his spouse's arms.

realising i need to convince my teachers i can get at least 2 a*s and an a this year or else i wont be able to go to a good uni ..... sick and twisted

Touchdown

Playboy!Jock x GN Reader

CW: playboy behavior, mentioned nsfw

🏈Brandon was the star player in the school football team, who had his pick of anyone he wanted because of his good looks and talent in sports.

🏈He was used to short relationships that meant seemingly nothing, it was always just them walking up to him all flustered, him flirting, then a one-night stand or two, then a breakup that left them either a sobbing mess or with a burning hatred for the jock, either way, he thought nothing of them in the long run.

🏈He was sitting with the rest of the football team during lunch when he saw you. He wasn't sure if you were new or not, there were many people in the school that he didn't pay any attention to, so seeing you for the first time made him intrigued.

🏈You were sitting alone in one of the tables close to the corner to get some much-needed peace and quiet when you feel a weight on the bench next to you. You turn and see Brandon, a member of the football team. You raise a brow at him while taking a bite out of your food.

🏈The fact that you seemed so uninterested in his presence was amusing to him and he started making small talk to you, a little teasing and playful insults sprinkled in, perhaps some flirting if you squint.

🏈But all you did was reply to his questions about your life in the driest ways possible with absolutely no interest in conversation with a playboy like him.

🏈You've heard of him before from some friends of yours, how he's fucked probably half of the cheerleading squad and had a lengthy history of chatting up girls just to fuck them and leave. All of this and the way he presented himself to you as some stuck-up douche who's only talking to you in order to make fun of you made you annoyed and a bit revolted by him.

🏈Brandon on the other hand couldn't get enough of you. The more he talked to you the more interested he was about you as a person. You were modest, you had interesting tastes in music, you had cool hobbies he's never heard of before from anyone he's talked to in the past, and most of all you were...beautiful.

🏈You weren't that different from everyone else compared to looks, sure you were a bit prettier but average nonetheless, why does he think you're so cute all of a sudden?

🏈the bell rang, and you immediately stood up to walk to class, much to the jock's dismay.

🏈He takes your hand before to went off with a gentle but tight grip.

🏈"uh...so you like, have good english scores right? You think you could tutor me sometime?"

🏈Ohhhhhh so that's why he talked to you, because you were a nerd and he needed you to copy homework from.

🏈You offer your English essay, but he refuses, asking if you were available to help him to make his own.

🏈You were pleasantly surprised to say the least, you never thought someone like him would choose tutoring instead of copying from someone else for an easy A+.

🏈You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. "huh, Alright. See you after school then..." You then run off in hopes you wouldn't be late to your next period.

🏈Brandon stood there a bit frazzled, why did he say that? Why does he want to be tutored all of a sudden? Why was your smile so precious? Why is his face heating up???

🏈Before he could get his thoughts together, his friends approached him, ushering him to start moving or else he'll be given another detention. He snapped out of his confused state and tried to laugh off the thoughts of you swirling around his head.

🏈Who the hell were you to make him feel so...good?

an: making a part 2 soon, probably, hopefully. requests are open so feel free to give any suggestions of more funny lads to write about!

"Jesus, these things are going to fill my lap in another couple months. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy my college signed me up for this clinical trial, but I am starting to get a bit concerned with how massive and heavy my boobs are going to get. Like.... only a few months ago I was a C-Cup. They're already humongous..... The people at the trial make me strip in front of a bunch of pharmaceutical execs. They weigh my breasts, poke and prod them, squeeze them, crush them in vices, and sometimes they even inject huge syringes of saline right into them, one after another, making them even more swollen and huge, telling me these saline treatment are 'just part of the trial'. I think they just like filling my boobs with a gallon of saline each to see me struggle to keep my back straight.

I ask them how long the trial will go on, how many more months I need to take the breast growth pills. Like, they clearly work..... But they just tell me as long as possible to test the limits of the medicine. I try to get them to tell me how big my boobs will get and they avoid the question, telling me not to worry and enjoy them. I tell them my back hurts really bad now and they laugh. I say, 'It won't be so funny if my spine snaps and I wind up paralyzed!' The scientists and execs just shrug and tell me when my spine snaps they'll ensure I have every possible accommodation to complete my diploma. They never say 'if', they say 'when'.....

I try to tell them I don't want to wind up paralyzed, but they say it's not really a big deal and I'll be able to live a perfectly fulfilling life, that their research is what's important. I got frustrated one time and blurted out that I won't be able to feel my pussy or when guys fuck me. They told me it's a good thing, men can be as rough as they want and I won't even feel it. I guess they have a point, that's kind of nice. I said I'll miss cumming, and they told me my pussy will still cum. I might not feel it, but it'll react physically on its own and squirt if men fuck me hard enough and rub/smack my clit enough. I guess that's OK...... as long as men can still make me squirt. It'll suck not feeling it but it'll be kinda fun to watch men have their way with me.

I guess I'm really dedicated to this clinical trial after all. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having fun growing such a giant pair of boobs. Soon they'll fill my lap and probably get way bigger. They'll weigh well over 100lbs each.... I'll need help to do just about anything regardless of whether or not my poor spine gives out. But I do agree..... I think it'd be more fun if it did, plus the people running the trial seem excited for it to happen. So, I don't wanna disappoint them. Hopefully my boobs get so humongous they totally surround me..... I wonder how much saline the team running the trial will pump into them for fun after that? A whole bathtub's worth? My boobs will be so fucking swollen and impossible to budge. All I'll be will be a poor, stationary girl who'll really only exist to serve cock; what else are such monstrous breasts useful for? And the rest of me will be a playground for men to use however they see fit. At least I don't need to be able to move to do therapy sessions online once I graduate and become a psychiatrist. Maybe I'll hold in person sessions anyway and judge my patients' mental state on how harshly they treat my gigantic breasts? With any luck it'll be a revolutionary new approach other girls decide to imitate. Wouldn't that be nice? ❤️"