Hi, I’m Tori, I’ve been on this hellsite since 2012(?) but wanted to make a new blog to talk about my mental health. I am a newly discovered system, I have autism and adhd, and I want somewhere to process things and have some sense of community.
It’s difficult to confront the fact that I went through serious trauma. I’m on good terms with my mom and she’s very understanding, but in some ways that makes it a lot harder to confront what I went through as a child.
I see a professional counselor every week and have a small but very solid support system that I am lucky and incredibly grateful for. Please don’t worry, I am safe.
Grace leans back from staring at the four receding dots of the Beatles and closes the Petrovascope before starting up the spin drives again. I’m coming, buddy. I’m on my way. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, flopping back in the seat as gravity set in. Grace absentmindedly starts up a random playlist as he quadruple checks his math on where the Blip-A should be. He had missed the musical notes filling the ship and ended up making several playlists to help keep his mind busy as he beelined back towards his friend. He had even found himself singing along in the last couple weeks. It had been years since Grace had really sang. He never liked how feminine his singing voice had remained through his transition, but now there was no one to be outed to. He found himself getting lost in the soaring vocals as the drums picked up.
“I will travel far beyond the path of reason
Take me back to Eden, take me back to Eden
Take me back to Eden.”
______________________________________________
Simon closes his eyes as the massive teeth crushed down around him. Everything flashes white and he figures this must be death. Suddenly, his shoulder falls hard into a cold surface sending searing pain through what little remained of his arm. He gasped in clean fresh air through a silent scream of pain. Isn’t the pain supposed to stop when you die? He wrenches his eyes open and stares up at a white ceiling. Something is wrong, horribly wrong. This is agony. This is Hell. Simon forces himself to sit upright making his vision swim. He finally takes in the sleek white laboratory space around him and his eyes land on trays of plants secured into a metal rack in the corner. He almost thought he was in some COI station, but then he heard the singing.
“My, my, those eyes like fire
I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre”
Simon clutches the stump of his left arm and staggers towards the angelic voice.
“Come now, bite through these wires
I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired”
He stops at a T-intersection and stares straight ahead at a circular window. Endless stars stretch out before him. This can’t be real.
“Reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher
Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire"
No, this isn’t real. Simon turns and peers down a long corridor through multiple rooms. This is some hallucination. Or maybe I really am dead. He looks back to the stars. Is this an angel that’s taken pity on him?
“I will travel far beyond the path of reason
Take me back to Eden, take me back to Eden
Take me back to Eden"
No. This is Hell.
Simon turns and runs, stumbling away from the beautiful voice. He sees an apparent med-bay ahead and prays it has enough supplies left to do something for him. Almost half of the space is enclosed in an odd, flat-paneled, clear enclosure. Simon has no idea what might go in it but it seems to have an airlock on one side. His attention is abruptly taken from the odd structure by a robotic set of arms
“Trauma detected. Beginning triage.” The overly smooth feminine voice sounds. The arms reach into a panel on the wall and retrieve a large roll of gauze and several other supplies.
Simon frantically looked back to see if someone had heard this automated response, but no one seemed to be coming, at least the voice was still singing at the other end of the corridor. He turns back to the machine and has to dodge as the arms lunge for him, now holding a syringe. He knows he can’t afford to be sedated. Eden, COI, some odd being in liminal space, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t let them take him like that.
“Shut the fuck up.” He hisses at the machine. It lunges and he dodges again. “I can do it myself. Gimme- Gimme that. Give me the fucking gauze.” His arguing is worthless against the robot, but he manages to snatch the roll of gauze and escape without being stabbed by that syringe.
He hurries back to where he woke up and takes a wad of gauze and wipes up the smears of blood he left on the floor as best he can. He takes in more of the room, including another huge circular view of impossible stars. There are boxes and supplies stacked into the corner behind the plant rack and Simon can see a gap where he might just fit. He clamps his wad of gauze against his throbbing arm and uses his good shoulder to push a stack aside. He climbs back into the gap and pulls the boxes close around him so that he is entirely concealed behind the plant rack. He peers out through the leaves and takes a deep shuddering breath. The voice was still singing.
“I guess it goes to show, does it not?
That we've no idea what we've got until we lose it
And no amount of love will keep it around
If we don't choose it
And I don't know what's got its teeth in me
But I'm about to bite back in anger
No amount of self-sought fury
Will bring back the glory of innocence”
Simon’s mind is reeling trying desperately to figure out what this place is and what this angel or siren or whatever wanted with him. Its song is far too pointed. It must have something to do with that hive-mind-like eel in the blood. Is this how it was assimilating his mind as he died? Was it just toying with him? He is certain this can’t be real. It’s simply impossible, the stars, the song, the plants in front of his nose. It couldn’t be real.
His spiraling thoughts are cut short as the ending of the song takes a sharp turn into harsh screams that make his heart race with fear.
“I have traveled far beyond the path of reason
Take me back to Eden
Take me back to Eden”
Simon knew whatever this thing was, it was here to pass judgement on him.
Ok I feel like I’m going crazy trying to find this. Has anyone else read the Flambae backstory someone wrote with him being a diagnosed pyromaniac? I cannot for the life of me find it again but it was so good. If anyone has read it please feel free to point me at it
this gag NEVER fails to make me laugh. watching them all file in one by one and collectively laugh harder every time the next guy walks in…i could watch videos of this practical joke all day
Baby bird season is incoming and I’d like to remind everyone that birds do not have a significant sense of smell. Bird parents will not reject birdlets because you have handled them.
If you see smol birbs with few or no feathers on the ground, you can safely put them back into their nest, bird parents will still care for them.
If you see smol birbs with some or most feathers on the ground, please leave them there, as bird parents are probably nearby watching and feeding.
nakey bird = accidentally fell out, is cold and scared, put back in nest! if you can’t reach the nest, try to put it on a wide branch or fork so predators can’t get at it as easily.
scruffy feather bird = starting to try the fly thing, not very good at it. only put in nest/branch if predators abound, i.e. you have four outdoor cats and they’re licking their chops.
fluffy feather bird = smol fly guy! do nothing. can probably get away from predators and will flip its shit if you pick it up.
Reblogging this because I’d always heard the ‘Don’t touch a distressed bird its mom will reject it’ thing treated as fact before now, I didn’t realise it wasn’t true…
