"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
ojovivo
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oozey mess
Show & Tell
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roma★
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Not today Justin
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Origami Around
pixel skylines
Xuebing Du
if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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KIROKAZE
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@cinnamonrollstark
Its been a long time, Tumblr, but I've been re-nerdified by Arcane. So this may become an Arcane/Jayvik blog. Thank you to anyone still following me after sometimes years of silence. But your girl is gonna be back with fanart, hopefully some fics, and edit reposts whenever possible. She's baaaaack
Addition we now have space Jayce
Hello hello Tumblr. So, little update:
You know how I said I was gonna be working on some Arcane fanart? I wanted to share a cool little update.
On Saturday, I started sketching Jayce and Viktor. Click pencil. Meh.
Its alright. Not terrible for first attempt. I can't draw animation/cartoonish/non-photo-realism for anything... or so I THOUGHT.
The next day:
So like, arguably proportions were getting better, more depth more character, so on, so forth. So last night I try for the very first time to draw with markers. All things considered, it could have been worse.
But the proportions, the coloring, all was way off. This looks more like Jayce than Viktor. Too many highlights, too much depth in the shading. Find some middle ground, girl! Fast forward to today:
I feel like I'm getting rapidly better at this. Maybe this is the art style I'm SUPPOSED to draw in. Realism has felt so draining and this has given me such joy!
So, as far as where I'm going to go with it... (Drumroll audience, gimme your best)...
I'm going to be making a fan e-comic book fic set after the events of the finale- specifically where Jayce and Viktor might have ended up.
Stay tuned folks!
Its been a long time, Tumblr, but I've been re-nerdified by Arcane. So this may become an Arcane/Jayvik blog. Thank you to anyone still following me after sometimes years of silence. But your girl is gonna be back with fanart, hopefully some fics, and edit reposts whenever possible. She's baaaaack
SUCCESSION (2018-2023)
I feel like some 9-1-1 fans will hate me for this but....
I don't feel like the show has been the same since roughly season 3b, maybe 4a. I think the writing has changed drastically, and the characters no longer to seem to be as realistic as they once were. When they kill characters off, it is usually just a random side character they introduced the episode before or in the episode itself. I find myself not caring as much for these people in emergent situations, even when it is milked to be tragic and dramatic. I don't feel worried for the characters anymore. I don't think the stakes are as high as they were. Because I don't worry for them, I don't care about them as much anymore. Also, I feel like this show used to be relatively more realistic; the characters had real and lasting flaws, they lost people, they dealt with mental issues because of it. Like actual emergency response does. But I think after Covid hit, they really just wanted to lighten the energy and make it more silly, soapy, campy fun. But it frustrates me as a viewer because I want some of the realistic drama it used to have. Some of the stakes it used to have.
Oh, and don't get me started on Buddie. In seasons 2 and 3, Buck and Eddie had an undeniable chemistry. There was a bit of tension between them. But its almost as if the writers caught wind of this and decided to keep them separate. We hardly see them together anymore, at least in season 6. We had a little bit of buddie content in seasons 4 and 5 but MUCH less than we had in 2 and 3. It frustrates me because there was a certain level of queerbaiting involved, whether they want to deny that or not. Its sad, to me, because it took a show and an on screen relationship I enjoyed and felt was special, and are starting to change it so drastically that I find it a little harder to watch, now. I enjoy the actors, but I hardly feel that they are at their best this season, if only because the writing is not on par with what it used to be.
A couple years ago, I started this Ao3 9-1-1 fic but essentially stopped after the first chapter. I'm thinking of trying my hand at it again. I want to create the spark I once saw in this show. Ideas, HCs, OCs, and prompts welcome. I just miss the early years of the show!
Can't wait for the day a year, five years, maybe ten years from now where I'm finally like, "yay, glad I didn't kill myself."
Cause right now I'm having a hard time. I feel like everything is happening all at once. My brain can't handle it. I literally googled "painless ways to kill yourself" a few days ago. And then I had this really good day and I thought everything was gonna be okay but now... it all just changes so bad. I just want to go to sleep and be dead for a year. To heal without feeling anything. But you can't do that. You can't just die and then un-die. Its do permanent. I don't want to be dead permanently. Its so difficult. Life is so fucking hard. I think in the long run my choice is always going to be to keep living. But sometimes I wonder how much more at peace I would feel if I wasnt
Let's talk about this.
When I made this post, I was suffering terribly from my Bi Polar 1. I didn't want to be on medication. I didn't want therapy. I didn't want to suffer, but I certainly didn't want to live.
I wrote this post. It was a cry for help. But if I had gotten that help? I would have refused it at the time. There comes a point when you're ill enough that you so desperately want people to care, but you don't have the stamina to change.
The girl that wrote this post could not help herself on her own. She needed me to help her. The me thats willing to be on medication and get help. The me that wants to grow. The me that is exercising my mind so that I can build up the stamina to prolong my life (and my quality of life.)
I am certainly not perfect now. But I haven't been suicidal since I started Abilify in November. I fully believe that it saved my life. It gave me a chance to be stable enough to recognize what patterns I was creating or tolerating in my life that were attributing to my ultimate lowest lows and manic highs.
All this to say that that day has come, and comes every day now, even the hard ones. If that girl had killed herself, she would've killed me too. She didn't realize who she was or who she was going to become. When you end your life, you end all versions of your earthly self. What a shame it would've been to leave and leave behind my memories, my past, present, and future.
I know this post probably isn't going to help anyone. But I hope if you see it and you're struggling, that this can be a sign to make one move, one step, toward help. One small pill has helped calm my mind enough for me to put in the work to get better. You can get better. You don't have to get better all at once. It's like getting fit. Its hard work and it hurts sometimes and it means letting go of some things and filling yourself up with positive things. It means change. It also means having a better quality of life.
I'm glad I didn't kill myself. I'm glad I am alive, even through struggle and pain. Mental Illnesses may affect you through your life, but they don't have to be a death sentence.
There's a present under MJ's tree. It has no name on it. It's a lego set; she checked already. She is never going to use this. She can't remember why she bought it.
let’s do this 👀
being in your 20s is just going to the store
its also about feeling very sad. at the store
Its also about working at the store. And feeling sad. And pretending not to feel sad.
Can't wait for the day a year, five years, maybe ten years from now where I'm finally like, "yay, glad I didn't kill myself."
Cause right now I'm having a hard time. I feel like everything is happening all at once. My brain can't handle it. I literally googled "painless ways to kill yourself" a few days ago. And then I had this really good day and I thought everything was gonna be okay but now... it all just changes so bad. I just want to go to sleep and be dead for a year. To heal without feeling anything. But you can't do that. You can't just die and then un-die. Its do permanent. I don't want to be dead permanently. Its so difficult. Life is so fucking hard. I think in the long run my choice is always going to be to keep living. But sometimes I wonder how much more at peace I would feel if I wasnt
Last summer vs. This summer.
Last summer, I could barely move. I remember the day I realized my spine wasn't supporting me anymore. I'd been having pain with walking for weeks, but there came a day where I couldn't push through it anymore. It was May or June of 2020, and my sister and I were about to go on a hike up to the Griffith Observatory when my legs essentially gave out from under me no more than five minutes into our venture. No amount of rest could help. It was like someone had put a deadbolt on my hips and locked it tight.
My first doctor called it myofacial pain, likely because of my weight. At the time, this (while still innacurate) wasn't surprising. I was over 300 pounds, and in only five foot four. Still, that was an oversight that cost me months of mobility. Eventually, I went to a rheumatologist. My mother, who has several autoimmune issues, encouraged me to, as all my previous doctor had done for me was misdiagnose my pain, and gave me a painkiller that made me near suicidal.
So I went to the damn rheumatologist. And all these things from my teenaged years start stacking up. Different symptoms I thought had nothing in common. Things like, rashes that sprung up every two weeks or so. Dry eyes. Pitted nails. Abdominal pain. And then, God, the spinal pain. My hips and my back, my neck, my wrists, my ankles, my knees. And so much inflammation. And she asks me the question, does anyone in your family have Psoriatic Arthritis?
And im like.... yeeeees. My mom. My mom has it really really bad.
So the rheumatologist gets an MRI and low and behold, different joints in my spine (specifically both sacroilliac joints as well as a few vertebrae) are so inflamed that they have eroded the surrounding bone. Essentially, bone on bone, scraping pain, NOT originally caused by weight. Psoriatic arthritis. At 19.
In a wheelchair when the walker i used couldn't support me anymore. But most of the time? Sitting on my couch feeling sorry for myself because I couldn't lift my own body more than a few feet.
I tried Humira. Spinal involvement with PsA can be really harmful, so, you know, they figured let's put you on a biologic. And my immune system nearly killed me for it. Two weeks after my one and only shot of humira I had to spend an entire week in the hospital fighting off a 105 fever and a mysterious illness that to this day has never received a diagnosis.
But this is the thing: enough was enough. Enough was enough was enough. I had to walk and live and breathe and not die in my thirties because my own fat was suffocating me due to me inability to move.
So I started eating healthy. For years of my life in an effort to lose weight (that forever failed) I would withhold food til the end of the night... and then I would be so hungry I binged on 2 large dominos pizzas, a 2 litter of diet coke, a box of garlic knots and a box of cinnamon twists. And if it wasn't that it was a box of pasta. But the 2 litre thing was an average thing for me. It was a coping mechanism and the only thing that kept me awake (although I did spend most of my days sleeping.)
So I quit that shit. I started actually eating. And I cut out the things that were most harmful to me and started an anti-inflammatory diet. Not like stupid fucking diet culture bullshit. Actual shit to help with my health so that my already shitty heart (I had heart surgery for WPW when I was 10) didn't give out on me. And then I lost some of the weight and could move again. I started slow. A five minute walk if I could manage it. Then ten. Then 20. And increasing until... now.
Now. 85+ pounds down. Most people are actually not THAT unhealthy if they are overweight. I was, simply because my joints were too damaged to support it. So thats a good thing. I walk a mile near every day. I work out twice a week on top of that. I eat healthy.
And I can run. And I can breathe. Im so much more confident. I feel like I have a life to live. Last year, I felt like I was waiting to fall into my own grave and succumb to my inability to change for the better.
And even though I can run and breathe and live, yes, I still have pain. I still get psoriasis and feel embarrassed by it. My hips crack when I stand up. My knees and ankles swell sometimes. I can't always walk as fast as my friends.
But at least I know I can do all of that for a long while more. Pain sucks but its a fucking part of life. I know a lot of people won't see this but please for the love of GOD know that pain will come and go. It waxes and wanes. You owe it to yourself to believe you can get through it. Because I did and still do. Fall down, stand back up. Stop staring into your grave and build a bridge to get over it. You're stronger than you think you are.
Me v. Me
6 Years Ago
All of us after that scene:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Please give it a read! Delving out of my comfort zone. Original Characters! Who you will HATE!!!
I was on hold with an online doctor for 45 minutes, on the actual call for 8, and in that amount of time the online doctor decided I am becoming paralyzed so....
That's utter bullshit, but okay
AYYYE THROWBACK! not paralyzed. Yay! Horribly inflamed and eroded sacroilliac joints? Yes. Which, by the way, my doctors misdiagnosed for six months. Gotta love psoriatic arthritis at 20, right? Man, what a year. Getting healthier though!
Here's the thing that drives me crazy about other people observing me:
I have bi polar, right? I've been on a manic low for a while but am coming out of it. So my happiness is being perceived by my sister as a manic high, and so she's all on edge, because as she explained it, she has to prepare for the "inevitable" low ill later have when I'm depressed again.
Am I crazy? Like that is so frustrating. I can't even feel happy and energetic without being perceived as the personification of my mental illness.
