#and anyway!! she never did the fucking referral!!!!!!

[killbaned]

i may have to get a new family doctor and i’m not happy about it bc i’ve had mine for nine years and i don’t like change but i’m also on my last raw fucking nerve with her?

i found out that what i thought were covid related issues wrt not being able to get appointments when i need them is actually because she’s renovating the office to put in a fucking med spa of all things.

unless i schedule an appointment four or more months out i can’t get in to see her, and i’ve had multiple instances of missing work because the shitty PA’s she has didn’t listen to me about my UTI and i damn near ended up in the ER because of it.

and now i got a message today that they’re rescheduling my fucking appointment next month that i made three months ago.

like.

bruh.

#goblin shenanigans.txt #also frankly i've been feeling for a while that she's just kinda.........not taking me seriously about stuff anymore? #like i literally asked for a referral to a neuro doc because i'm still getting more migraines than i should be w the meds #and i keep getting dizzy/vertigo spells that are sometimes bad enough it's causing like #my vision to short circuit? like it suddenly hits and not only does everything start spinning but there's several seconds of like #not 'i can't see' in the sense of oh god i'm blind but almost like my brain just isn't understanding the input from my eyes? #if that makes sense? #and anyway!! she never did the fucking referral!!!!!! #maybe that's for the best since the last two specialists she sent me to for gyn and gut demons have been fucking assholes anyway

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Shackled (Chapter 16)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader

Warning: There are some intense, dubiously consenting and nonconsensual sexual themes in this series, MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You hate Outer Banks with a passion and are working hard to get out despite all the obstacles in your way. Rafe himself eventually becomes one of those obstacles after a night of low impulse control. Will you be able to overcome him or with you have no choice but to submit.

Slow Burn

Series Masterlist

Tag list:

@sophiexoxo-lol

"I've always wanted to ask, what are these?" Rafe holds up a small circular pink pill to my vision. 

"Birth Control," you rasp. 

"You take birth control? Since when" he asks

You throw him a look of annoyance and blow a breath of exasperation. 

"We had been fucking for several months, and not once did I ever mention anything about a pregnancy scare. Did the idea of me being on birth control never occur to you?"

He shrugs and continues with his task. 

Rafe had taken it upon himself to oversee your health, which included picking up and organizing your prescribed medication in your pill box. At first, it was difficult to trust him, so you made sure you had all your tablets before taking them, but he managed to prove himself, and you became too tired to keep up with your tablets. 

He'd also gotten into touching you often, especially during bathtime. You've tried to thwart his advances several times, but he always seemed to get his way. Eventually, fear was replaced with chagrin, and every time he dragged his fingers down your forearm, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

You had to go into surgery in the next few days, and you had been waiting for an orthopedic surgeon to travel to the island to assist you, Annie Rose said your ribs weren't healing properly, so she had to put in a referral for one. In the meantime, she said no strenuous activity, making sure to fix Rafe with a look.

It would have been funny if you didn't feel like you were being held captive. 

Since the first bathtub incident, you thought of ways to escape Rafe's grasp. You had to heal first, that was a given, and it wasn't leaving that was giving you the issue. It's what you would do after you leave. 

You had no money or family; all you had was Rafe, and if he kept on with his possessive ways, he's all you would ever have. 

You could always go back to Misty's and beg for your old job back, but then how would you find enough money to get on the ferry, your racked your brain trying to find a solution to this puzzle, but something was always in the way. 

You suddenly felt lips pressed against yours as fingers crept toward your nether region. 

"What are you thinking about?" Rafe says. 

"What if I never wake up from the surgery?" you ask, wanting him to believe that the surgery was what you were worried about. 

"You'll be fine, and you'll probably feel much better afterward, so no worries, in fact." he moves his body underneath the covers, placing himself between your legs and pulling off your pajama bottoms. 

"Rafe," you call. He ignores you as he rubs a finger up and down your clothed slit. 

"Rafe, stop, I'm tired," you beg.

He pulls your panties to the side, shocking you with his tongue to your clit before wrapping his mouth around it and sucking. 

You couldn't say anything else. It didn't matter since Rafe would do what he wanted anyways. 

So you gave in to the moment. Drowning in forced pleasure.

*** 

You were fatigued, your body felt limp and heavy, and it took too much effort to move a toe, let alone push away the fingers creeping up your thighs.

You struggle to open your eyes as you look up at the perpetrator attempting to invade your space. There he stood, Rafe Cameron, looking back down at you—the expectation on his face, with a cloud of lust shadowing his eyes.

Of course, it had been him; it could only be him. He'd taken it upon himself these last few weeks to terrorize you with his presence consistently.

You'd just gotten the surgery for your broken ribs, and as you looked around, you saw Rafe had no problem setting you up in his room again. Now he won't even allow recovering at the hospital. He needed you to be around him as much as possible. So you can only imagine his frustration whenever he had to leave for work.

.Since your trip from the hospital, amidst your travels in and out of consciousnesses, he was the only face you ever saw.

Without taking his eyes off yours, he pulls off your blanket, causing your top to pul up, exposing a bit of your navel. He drags his fingers under it, pulling them closer to your pubic area.

"Surgeon says you'll be able to resume sexual activity in about two weeks." He briefly takes his eyes off yours as he uses his fingers to pull at your pajama bottoms.

You whimpered, hoping he wouldn't try anything while you suffered weakly.

"Don't worry, I'm patient."

He looks back into your eyes, bringing his face closer to yours.

"I can't say I'm not excited by the thought." He gently places his lips against yours.

And all you could think of was how you were going to escape when you could barely move your body.

#Dark!Rafe Cameron #Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader #Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader #Dark OBX #Pogue! Reader #Pogue Reader #dark fics #Rafe Cameron c Reader #Outer Banks #series #Shackled #Shackled Series #dub con #dubcon #dubious consent #abuse #parental abuse #near-death experience

[geneeste]

I’ve been ranting about this in the group chat, but the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

So J, our 10yo, took state testing before the break and apparently scored high on one of the reading sections. Now I put almost zero weight on testing like this, but this was a win for J in particular because she’s always struggled mightily with reading. But she did well on the test, and it was a confidence boost for her, but I’m fully aware she managed that because of reading interventions, and not because of “gifted” instruction.

Anyway, we got this email before the winter break:

So this is…weird. Especially this part:

Your child's performance on the CogAT indicates a need to gather more information in order to support the school team in making instructional decisions. Student scores in the 95th percentile or above initiate the Gifted Identification Referral Process, which includes gathering additional achievement, performance, and behavioral data for a comprehensive body of evidence.

All of the other kids save our youngest have been in gifted programs at some point, and in all of the seven school districts we’ve been in so far, I’ve never been asked to justify their selection for the program. Add to that, a 30-minute questionnaire seemed excessive, but I thought, hey, maybe this is just a standard I haven’t run into yet. (Also, neither linked letter elaborated on this; one was related to testing, and the second was this email in PDF form).

And then we got into the survey, y’all. Y’ALL.

I ran into the image limit for this post, so I can’t post the whole questionnaire, so I tried to pick the most egregious parts:

So. We start going through this thing and to say I was (am) livid is an understatement. Just. What the fuck.

Asking me to justify my kid’s specialness

Basing giftedness on totally irrelevant and also classist, ableist bullshit things like vocabulary, how quickly they learn something, attention span I COULD GO ON AND ON

Asking my kid to design instruction?? She’s ten fucking years old?

Asking my struggling reader, whom you’ve already identified as both needing reading intervention and having demonstrated huge growth, to give a fucking reading list to justify access to services?

I’m seriously so mad about the last part because talking about that question made J feel ashamed about how she dreads reading so she doesn’t actually read much, so when she does it’s short books and graphic novels, and we lost a lot of ground we’d gained about how she should be proud of her ability and progress. Fuckers.

So. We were not pleased. Here’s what I wrote back, which was almost certainly not as mean as I should have been:

My husband and I started this survey and although we completed it, I found it frustrating and prejudiced and genuinely insulting.

It is not at all clear what relevance many of the questions have to J’s academic ability and frankly with 4 neurodivergent children, 3 of whom (including J) having been in gifted programs previously, some of these questions were worded in ways that implied that a child had to think in a certain way in order to be gifted. For instance, why would a child needing some repetition to learn something mean that they can't be gifted? It's insulting and neuro-normative, to say the least.

I have never been asked to fill out a survey justifying my child's intellectual ability in order for my child to get access to educational services. I mean, what parent would answer otherwise? And what child wouldn't flourish when given engaging content?

I understand that district resources might be limited, but surely there is a less prejudiced and discriminatory way to screen for access to additional educational resources.

Here’s what the coordinator responded with:

Thank you for filling the survey out and for the feedback. The purpose of the survey is to gain valuable insight from parents about their child's strengths, interests and abilities that may not be evident in a school setting. We are looking to build a comprehensive portfolio of information to be used in the Gifted Identification Process to inform our programming and align it with student needs. The responses on the Gifted ID Referral form are not "weighted" or assigned points or used in any way that might preclude a child from Gifted Identification. They are used for informational purposes to gain a deeper understanding of a child.

Which is, frankly, total bullshit. Remember up there where the initial email where it said the survey was for instructional decisions and gathering a body of evidence? And the survey itself says:

Once this form is complete and submitted, your school's Gifted Education Facilitator will be notified. They will then gather additional necessary evidence/data to complete the process.

The coordinator has been so persistent since this reply - 4 emails asking us to talk about J’a participation when we’ve already made it clear that if the qualification process is any indication of how the gifted program is run, J’s much better off staying in class with her peers.

Anyway. Phew. I’ve been stewing about this and just writing it down has been very cathartic.

#flames #flames on the side of my face #genie’s stuff #gifted programs are largely bullshit anyway! #put any group of kids in a classroom #tell them they’re gifted (because they are!) #and give them engaging stuff to do #of course they’re going to thrive! #aaaaaaaaaaaaggghhhhhhhh

[bots-and-cons]

Hello, it's a me...

Sorry for the recent lack of fic posts, I've been busy and exhausted. I was at my mom's for 10 days and I didn't really have any time to write, nor did I really have any ideas. I think I've got 7 WIPs in total atm, and I haven't really worked on any that are for this blog. I'm gonna try to work on them more now that I'm back at my apartment.

Venting below:

I never really sleep well at my mom's, and my two youngest siblings can be very tiring. They're very energetic and since I'm not there often, they like spending time with me. I don't always have the energy for them, but I force myself to be patient and play with them anyway. I was also left alone a few times with my youngest brother and sister, which I don't really like, because I don't know how to deal with them when they start fighting. It doesn't happen all that often, but when it does, it's not fun.

Also I had a remote psychiatrist (my nurse was also present) appointment on Wednesday and it was shit. I've had to change psychiatrists and stuff because I moved to a new city, and the new one was not very good. I wanted to talk about my fear of my relapsing with my depression, because there have been signs of that recently. I also wanted to tell them about the psychosis symptoms I've been having, because they've been more frequent lately, but guess what the psychiatrist decided to focus on? MY WEIGHT. Because that's definitely what I was there to talk about, for fuck's sake. When she started talking about that, I basically shut down and couldn't say any of the things I wanted to, because I got so upset.

I'm not saying I'm not fat, like I'm well aware I'm obese, and I need to lose weight, but that's really not what the topic was for that day. I was so fucking upset. I know I have a pretty unhealthy relationship with food, but my psychiatrist going from asking me about my meds to recommending me diets is not really going to help. She also said that I shouldn't go to a licensed dietitian, because "they don't really help" and she's not going to write me a referral to one. Needless to say, I didn't really like her after that, and I sent my nurse a little complaint after the appointment. (By little I mean I basically wrote her an essay lol.) I think I'm going to ask to switch psychiatrists, because I do not want to deal with that lady again.

I'm okay now, still kinda annoyed about the whole thing with the psychiatrist but eeeh, I'll live.

#ony speaks #personal rant

[that-wildwolf]

Snippet Sunday. Is it Tuesday? Maybe. Fuck it. @whiskynorocks you're right Sunday is a social construct

Fuck it. Garrus goes to therapy.

Fuck it. Long snippet.

Marta Domańska was a psychiatrist and a psychotherapist specialising in trauma. And as a psychotherapist specialising in trauma in the year 2188, Marta Domańska had her hands full.

She was not entirely sure what her first impression of Garrus Vakarian had been other than a vague thought that she might have heard the name somewhere before, in passing, and a slight surprise after reading his file.

Like most turian refugees on Earth, Vakarian had been an active combatant in the Reaper War. Unlike most turian refugees on Earth, he had not taken as much as a single therapy session in the last year since the war had ended. And, looking at the man, Marta had a feeling he actually hadn't set foot in a therapist's office in his life. Unusual for a turian, even more unusual for a turian soldier who'd fought in the Reaper War. 

His records put him in a human regiment, under a human commander. It was unusual, but Marta decided not to bring it up with him unless it became relevant. Mixed-species military units were not unheard of, especially towards the end of the war, when everything had become just a bit too messy to bother with proper protocol.

In his personal questionnaire, he wrote "28" under age, which he then crossed out and corrected to 30. Under pronouns, he put he/him, under sexual orientation, "demisexual" with a question mark, and left "gender identity" empty. Under emergency contact, he put down nothing. After convincing him that filling out that question was not optional, he put down the contact information for a quarian admiral Marta had seen on the news. She doubted he actually knew her.

"So, Lieutenant." Going by her experience, turians felt more comfortable when addressed by their military rank than their last name, and definitely than their first name.

"Advisor," he corrected, though his heart wasn't really in it. An automated response, something he'd learned to say rather than chose to.

"That's not a rank."

"I don't care." He looked out the window. "You can just call me Garrus, anyway."

Unusual, but Marta adjusted her approach. She was a professional, after all.

"Alright then, Garrus. If I recall correctly..." She made a show of looking into her datapad, pretending to check, although she had already memorised all the important information about the new patient. She always did. "You were offered government paid therapy right after the war, but you never checked in for a single appointment." She looked up. "Why is that?"

"Something came up." There was no noticeable change in his demeanour, but he did grip the armrests a bit tighter.

Marta put away the datapad. "And what made you decide to start now?"

"...Something came up."

He looked away, leaving her with little to go off of other than that purposefully vague statement. Marta pursed her lips. She was no stranger to new patients clamming up, but it was unusual from someone who'd made the appointment with no referral, even more so a turian. Regardless of whether another was to come, she had a feeling this was going to be a challenging session.

"What came up, exactly?" She decided to try a direct approach for now. It usually worked with turians.

Garrus tilted his head at her.

"Sometime soon, maybe in the next few weeks, I'm going to want to kill myself. I need you to stop that from happening." He wasn't joking. He wasn't uncomfortable saying those words aloud. He didn't seem like he was feeling all that much at all.

Of all the possible answers that rushed through Marta's head, none seemed appropriate. This wasn't the first time she'd heard something like that from a new client, but it was usually said in a far more emotional manner. People broke down when they had to verbalise their pain. Garrus Vakarian didn't. He said it like it was a fact he'd memorised from a book, like it was something that needed his attention but didn't warrant emotion. I'm going to want to kill myself soon, this is what the issue is, now let's fix that. Simple and to the point.

So no, even if only because of the factual and dry way he'd presented her with the confession, Marta Domańska did not know how to answer. I can't actually help you, you know. You need to do the work yourself. seemed like the best choice, especially with how easily he demanded an immediate fix. Therapy wasn't an immediate fix. He had no idea what he was doing. He just did it because someone had told him to do it or maybe because he'd seen someone else do it. But it wasn't an informed decision he'd made knowing what he was signing up for. He'd found an issue and sought a solution like he would if his computer malfunctioned.

"That's responsible of you," she said eventually. 

#snippet sunday #wip weekend #this is fun because it is neither sunday nor the weekend

[silentalltheseyearsnomore]

I dont know but life feels so much better without therapy right now. And fucking magical things have happened now I'm not pouring my energy in to people and places that aren't fully reciprocal.. poking at raw wounds.. longing for things in places they won't be found. My relationships are better in every possible way. And my dream woman is in love with me. My crush on a straight married woman wasn't so straight or married after all. And it happened as soon as I let go of people and situations where I just felt longing or like I was getting less than I deserve and re enacting the past by hoping for things I would not get. Now parts come to us more, go to others who are available more. Its magical. We feel able to protect ourselves and have no desire to reach out to anyone who is not able to give us what we need (even with S, we still see her/reply, but during times she is emotionally unavailable we do not reach for her, we refuse to let ourselves create that re enactment. We deserve full recipricocy. She is not my therapist anymore and the reason therapy feels gross to us is them knowing us deeply when it is not equal- now we give her what she gives us.) And I'm so in love and so happy. It's honestly madness. I'm not magically fixed, my physical pain is bad, I have shit to sort out, and I'll probably still continue the specialist therapy referral, but I never want therapy or a therapist to be the center of my world ever again. I had two therapists tell me they love me the same as their own children, let me call them mum, hold us and rock us for hours, let us in to their family, every dream we ever had. And yes some of it was deeply healing, but also fuck that power dynamic risk from now on. It did not stop the longing anyway. I WANT to be the parent to my parts now. And no one gets access to them in that way unless it feels equal.

I feel happy. Me! I feel happy despite all the difficult things. I feel SO loved and SO full. From my dream woman, from a blossoming friendship who feels like home, from having more energy and love to overflow in to my other friendships because I am not draining my energy longing in the wrong places. I feel empowered and solid and no desire to reach to places who won't make me feel completely full. It's... magical. We've been triggered and still not wanted to reach in those old places, instead we reached for ourselves and those who never ever let us doubt how much we are loved. It has been hell on earth getting here these past months and we really nearly fucking died. But man. It almost feels worth it right now.

#i know things will be hard and i am not magically fixed but #all the work and then also letting go of giving my energy to places that dont fill me or re enact stuff truly has changed my life #and i dont know the outcome of so many things #but i feel fully loved and stable for the first time in maybe ever #and i will lean in to it for as long as it is here

[moregraceful]

L after fucking L at the clinic today for FOUR STRAIGHT hours

First, [Specialist] was out here like, bro i think you just have [fully recoverable virus for humans commonly associated with dogs, NOT lycanthropy sadly], I'm like THE DISEASE THAT DOGS GET?? He was like yeah but the human kind dw. But I'm pretty sure that's what's going on. I was like bro come on. And then he sent me to the lab for bloodwork just to make sure I have fully recoverable dog virus where they took even more of my blood...please...ladies....how will the sexy vampires feast on me tonight if I have no blood...

Then went to my gp and took seventeen more losses. Told her some symptoms that were bothering me for a while, she was like lmao bro you haven't dealt with this REOCCURRING ON A WEEKLY BASIS SYMPTOM for HOW long!!? I was like lady listen. You referred me to [a different specialist] in 2021 and he did blood work and was just like take antihistamines and i got super mad and never saw him again. She was like ok but the antihistamines did not work?? And you just lived like that?? FOR TWO YEARS?? I was like i have a tragic backstory involving the medical field that causes me to shy away from seeking medical help!!! She was like ok but I'm writing you another referral You Do Not Have To Live Like This.

Then [Department I was referred to] called me while I was sitting in the lobby waiting in fifteen minute vaccine jail (ya boy will be fully hepatitis b vaccinated soon...fellas watch out...) and they were like sooo you're actually an established patient of this man due to seeing him in 2021...so you have to see him. I was like, must I. Simply must I. And the nice administrator on the phone was like, well most of our department is going on vacation this summer, butttttt. yeah no you do lol. I was like I GUESS!! But at least this appt is in person unlike the last one, which was telehealth - I am way better at advocating for myself in person. so if he says hmm, i think you should take even more antihistamines i can fight him in real life.

And then i had to get an x-ray bc apparently [ENTIRELY UNRELATED SYMPTOM TO EVERYTHING ELSE THAT I THOUGHT WAS JUST A SYMPTOM OF AGING] is not something doctors are generally thrilled to hear abt you having for years. And i met a very nice x-ray technician who was a little on edge bc there was a kid in the next x-ray room having a screaming meltdown you could hear from the waiting room. I was like bro i get it. I also need to go scream in front of my mom

And then after all that was done, i texted my mom tell her that i probably have a dog virus that isn't even lycanthropy and she was buddy you had dog virus in preschool lmao you'll live. Pain.

I also apparently canceled therapy in a fugue state sometime in the past two weeks so i only have one more healthcare appointment this week 😩 but this last one i am not dreading TOO much bc a) this was not a referral, i choose her specifically based on the stress i have around [fourth probably unrelated problem to everything else, not lycanthropy] and b) i had a fifteen minute consult with her last week where she was like hmm. Wow. I need to see you weekly, actually. And sent me intake forms immediately. So while this one will be an expensive weekly pain in the ass, at least i will not be waiting until August like my other damn specialist.

Anyway the reason i wrote all that out is a) you all were so kind and sympathetic while i have been going tf thru it for the past three weeks and I felt you deserved an update that i am NOT dying imminently, 2) i learned a valuable lesson today which is that if you put off dealing with/refuse to deal with several physical health problems separately for several years, eventually they snowball to a point where you just feel bad in your body all the time and then it's even more of a pain in the ass to deal with them all at once and you run the risk of being at the clinic for four hours straight slowly losing the will to live. Don't be me, don't do that. Address what is making you feel bad in your body and make sure your problems are heard. Like i am saying this as someone with medical trauma. It is YOUR body and YOUR life, you do not have to spend every day feeling bad for (likely) treatable reasons.

And I'm not even a werewolf 😭😭😭

#medical cw #fresno oilers.txt

[fivewholeminutes]

One thing i keep thinking about is who vessel referrs to as "him" in missing limbs in "and it still makes my blood run thin / to remember what you are to him". I've got 3 possibilities so far (i'll keep referring to the person vessel sings to as "she", cause you know. He uses that):

1. His ex's new lover, obviously (but then again, if she left him for someone else, wouldn't it be present in other songs as well? That vessel was not good enough, so she moved on? Instead we get glimpses of a relationship in which they keep coming back to each other - if there was someone that makes her feel better, she wouldn't be coming back, right? Although there's also a possibility she left for someone else but kept coming back anyway)

2. Someone from her life who is probably one of the people from the line "to remember what they did before" (like an abusive parent, someone she cannot fully remove from her life, because they "love" her in a fucked up way). And vessel wasn't aware of this ("the stories that you never told to me" + similar concepts in the way that you were's lyrics) and has done something that triggered her/made her remember traumatic experiences?

3. The last one is unhinged and tbh i'm not exactly convinced myself, but I'll leave it to your interpretation: what if she got tangled into the whole worshipping sleep business too and ended up being changed/traumatised/hell, maybe even sacrificed? For being special to sleep himself? And vessel cannot accept this, but he can't do anything about it, cause he's overpowered by sleep, so he can only look from afar and feel like his limbs got severed?

#idk i am. not smart enough to figure it out #but i keep!! thinking!! about it!! #sleep token #tw abuse #sleep token theories

[crazycatsiren]

Doctors suck!!!

Tw for fatphobia

---

Me: my joints hurt

Doctor: where so?

Me: my legs, hands, and back

Doctor: have you gained weight?

Me: yeah?

Doctor: we're going to prescribe an aerobic physical activity schedule to PT :) if you lose weight maybe your pain will go away

-----

Later, talking to my mother who is fat and has much medical trauma because of that: mother what the fuck

Mother: yeah she wasn't the best (under exaggerated)

Me: how is losing weight going to help my hands hurting???

Mother: she never really answered your questions, did she?

Me: nope.

---

There is a time for a doctor to tell a patient to lose weight. Rarely is it the time, and when it is, the doctor doesn't say it like that!!!!

Especially when my knees hurt even when I'm sitting or laying down, or my back hurts even when I'm stretching, or my hands hurt no matter what I do- what the fuck, doctor???

Anyway. Merry Christmas Cat Mother!!

Doctors are literally killing fat patients because rather than prescribing the treatments they actually need, they'll just prescribe weight loss and think they're doing people a huge favor. And fatphobes will still be like nah fatphobia doesn't exist fat people aren't oppressed.

Our former primary care doctor whom I fired, her solution every time my husband (who's not fat but a smidge overweight) went to see her was to refer him to a nutritionist for his "weight problems". What I should've done is save all those referral papers so I can fling them all in that dumb cunt's face.

[wild-at-mind]



I think I actually am really upset about (everything) the referral call with my doctor. I had created this fantasy world in my head where my NHS doctor would somehow have advanced knowledge of trans and gender theory and that I could tell him the truth. Bending the truth scares me because I took long enough to get to this point because my experience of dysphoria was not what I had read it should be. It would feel like I was lying to myself somehow. But yeah I fucked up. Because he didn't know anything, and the conversation got weird. It was stuff like: did you have any adverse childhood experiences? Why are you mentally ill? Alongside more normal things like how long have you felt like this. Bearing in mind, he inherited my mental health care from my previous GP and didn't prescribe me my antidepressants, made me wonder how that would have gone if he was my GP when I was going on them for the first time. (But let's face it, it's not hard to get antidepressants on the NHS because there is Nothing. Else. Available. I can't stress that enough. So I'm sure it would have been possible. I just hope he doesn't expect his other mental health patients to be able to explain why they are mentally ill.) Having adverse childhood experiences isn't something you can help and it should not be stigmatised, and on a super advanced gender theory level yes there are people whose A.C.E. contibuted to their gender identity! However I do not feel that health professionals should be asking these questions with regards to gender referrals. It's complicated because I don't consider myself to have had A.C.E. although I did go through a stage of my illness where I really was trying to figure out why I was mentally ill (yaaay!) and disclosed some things to a psych which she said would go on my record. I guess he either hadn't looked at it or they didn't end up putting it on. The thing in question might be counted as A.C.E. on paper, though I don't personally consider it as such as ultimately I grew up in a loving and relatively stable home, which mitigates a lot of things.

From my awkward answers to his weird questions, he is now supposed to put together a referral to the gender clinic. I remembered to tell him which one I wanted (you can choose the one with the shortest waiting list even if it's far away, I think they have to do that as some of the waiting lists are like 5 years and some people just aren't near any of them). He didn't ask if I preferred a different name (I do). By the end of the call I was so frazzled that I didn't push the issue. Told myself it would be ok. I have heard horror stories about people ringing the GP to check up on their referral after a number of months and being told it was never put through. I'm trying to ignore that possibility. You're meant to get a letter within a few months but I have no faith in the NHS's letters. I had a cervical smear this year and they are meant to send you a letter saying if you have normal result or abnormal cells but I never got one. Fortunately as it's a test you can ring your GP for the result (thankfully it was normal). But me doing that should not have cancelled the letter- as far as I know there is no way the receptionist can, like, tick a box to say I was told my result verbally so don't send it. So where's my fucking letter?! On it's own it's not a big deal but as things are it goes on the pile of 'ohhhh fuck the NHS will probably dissolve within my lifetime....' that a lot of people in the UK my age and younger just kind of live with. Anyway, I realised today that I'm really not ok about any of this. The conversation with the doctor fucked me up and I've been feeling shitty ever since. I'm having an identity crisis. I'm still using my old name at work and now I barely know what my name is any more.

#cn medical #transition #trans #uk trans healthcare #depression daze

[ittakesrain]

I walked into my therapists office with puffy eyes and a swollen face— for the second time in a row. She was, well, concerned. I worry she thinks I wasn’t taking my health issues seriously. Maybe I wasn’t. In my view it’s just that nothing is ever simple or easy or goes the way it should and I’m fed up with it. Yes yes, woe is me. And like, YES give me ALL THE SYMPATHY cause this shit sucks dick. But also, I do have the awareness to know being negative isn’t going to help, and ultimately help (and feeling better at long last) is all I want.

We settled into the appointment and suddenly I had a list of things to do. Read: I was suddenly overwhelmed. Even though I knew I had to do all that nonsense regardless. I wound up asking Gail if I could call my rheumatologist during our session, which I did, and when I started babbling about how I needed an appointment soon, she swooped in and spoke… not “aggressively” by any means, but god damn she sounded like she knew what the fuck she was talking about (which she always does, she’s amazing).

Bam, I had an appointment half an hour later. It was gently suggested to me to call my mom to ask if she would accompany me to said appt. Which she did wind up doing.

Meanwhile, I’m obviously coming to terms with the fact that I need even more help than I’d previously assumed… coming to accept the fact that my issues are disabling. I’m disabled. In more ways than one, mind you, but anyway.

It hasn’t been too difficult admitting I suck at this fuckery and need my hand held through these processes. I am well aware of reality. I ask for help (though clearly not frequently enough) and receive the help without much thought. I mean, whatever. I have it harder than most fucking people why should I get more assistance.

The rheumatologist appt went well in that she took me seriously and sad the extent of the issue with her own eyeballs and acknowledged how difficult these last 3 years have been for me in terms of autoimmune issues. She said I need to see an allergist and to get a biopsy of some spots from my dermatologist, as well we get some blood work. And she gave me a steroid (alarms rang out in my skull because fun fact steroids make my lithium levels drop in ways noticeable through my moods & I’ve tested this theory more than a few times).

So I leave, get a well-deserved coffee. Check in with my therapist. She points out that I need to get blood work before going on steroids (and that I’m in charge of my own needs). So I make that appointment for an hour later (and ponder THAT concept, holy ShiT). Go straight there. In and out pretty quick. Then make a regular doctor appointment. Then text my psychiatrist about potentially upping my lithium for a bit.

I looked up what it actually means to “advocate for myself,” and tell me I’m not the only one who couldn’t conceptualize this cluster of words when said to me.

It apparently means: you’re able to recognize your worth and assume the responsibility of clearly communicating your needs, goals, and desires to others.

I’d add that it’s seeing reciprocal results. As opposed to giving your effort to no avail. From there I’d say it’s communicating the “right” way (“clearly,” I GUESs). In MY opinion communication is subjective and dynamic and personal— thus, never “wrong.”

But boyyyyy howdy it looks like in this case I’ve been doing it WRONG.

My doctors appt was fine. He was thorough and seemed confident that there’s help out there. More blood work. A referral. Blah blah.

Today I called the allergist. There was the usual bullshit. The one my doctor sent me in my does food allergies. They gave me another number. Didn’t take my shitty insurance. A few phone calls later and I found one. Perfect. I need a referral from my doctor so I call them and they can’t figure out how to refer me…??????

And here we are able square one. I called the allergist back. They took a message. So now what. I’ve hit a wall and while my mom or Gail could definitely break through it, alas I cannot.

So now I’m not only in a BIT OF A PICKLE medically… but I feel stupid. No one’s making me feel this way. Anyone who’s told me to take charge simply loves me and wants me better. I’m just… fed up with how nothing is ever simple or easy or goes the way it should.

Yes it’s okay to need help. No I’m not a burden for needing help. But when I think of little baby-teenage Laura with -so much potential- and realize she grew up into THIS CRAZY CRIPPLED MESS ..I have emotions about it. I don’t want to let myself down and quite frankly I don’t even really know the criteria for doing that. So I’m left confused.

Why doesn’t crying defeated in a corner count as advocating for myself. Why must I grovel for things to Fucking Work Out.

Anyway, it’s been many years since I’ve let myself end a written ramble negatively. Gotta wrap this shit up in a shiny bow. Fake it til you make it? Whatever lol

It’s gonna be okay. I’m quite literally surrounded by love and support. I am happy. Magic is real. The universe is expanding. Miracles happen every day.

Wow I’m finding it suspiciously easy to say positive crap, so I’m gonna end there.

[takoichigo]

I fucking hate this.

When I was in the hospital, I asked for help with my mental health. In May. On discharge, they gave me a list of every single provider in a 50 mile radius and a sheet of paper that said "referral to mental health" on it and that was it.

The cancer center has a social worker who reached out to me, and she said she'd help me find someone. She found two places, and I picked the one with female therapists. She said they'd give me a call the first week of June to schedule an appointment.

Nobody ever called me.

I went back and forth with the social worker a few more times. The cancer center has a therapist on staff, so I went to see her a couple of times, but we didn't click at all and she was not helpful. She mostly just made me uncomfortable. The social worker said she'd keep trying to find someone for me.

I finally got an appointment with a place last week, on Monday. They upset me immediately because I had no idea how high the copay was (literally more than a hospital visit) and the receptionist and billing folks were both pretty nasty with me. I still haven't gotten paid and I had $7 to my name. They made me agree to pay them this week once I got paid, but I looked and I'm still not getting paid this week. I have an email in to HR about what the fuck is happening there, because I was supposed to have short term disability kick in on July 1st and I still haven't seen anything from it, but of course they haven't replied to it.

Anyway I did see a therapist last Monday, but all we did was fill out paperwork and she asked me about whether I wanted to kill myself and what triggered that. She was surprised they hadn't done a screening on me first, so when I went to leave she brought them paperwork to set that up and said I'd likely hear from them by the end of the week. I had another appointment that was scheduled for today, for the purposes of discussing medications I am currently taking. I never heard from them last week.

This morning they called me to remind me of my appointment today, and I asked about the screening. They tried to say I'd done it last week, and when I said no, I hadn't, they said they'd have to check into it and call me back, but if I hadn't done the screening there was no reason for me to come in today.

They did not call me back. I had to pull many strings to get rides to and from my appointments this week, so I called them back myself after waiting as long as I could. They told me not to come in, and said they'd call me back to schedule the screening. So I canceled my rides.

Half an hour later a different person calls me to let me know my appointment is canceled for today (thanks! I know!) and they want to schedule my screening. They ask when I'm free and I say basically whenever, but not tomorrow. She pauses and says "oh! I had a cancellation for today at 2! Can you come in for that?"

...that's when my appointment was supposed to have been to begin with.

I was kind of rude about saying no, I would not be coming there today. Now I have to wait till next Tuesday. For a screening. So they can schedule another appointment about the medications I'm on. So they can figure out how to actually get me into mental health care. And by that point I'll have spent over $350 on copays. That I don't have.

If it hadn't been so hard to get into a place, ANY place, I'd have walked out the door last week when they were nasty to me and said to hell with this place. I'm gonna try to talk to the social worker again tomorrow, I guess.

I'm so angry and fed up at this point. It's like every fucking thing I've had to deal with has been an absolute failure. I'm half tempted to just go to the hospital and scream at people until someone agrees to see me about my fucking brain. Because it can't take any more of this.

#cancer #mental health #therapy #tw suicide #fuck this whole system

[g-kat423]

Had my alarm wake me up and hardly got any sleep since I never sleep well when I have morning appointments and I’ve been in a really bad pain flare the past few days. It’s like anything that the nerve block did to help after the first couple weeks has worn off. This appointment is a follow up for that so I’ll basically say I had results after the first week for about 2 weeks and then started having my regular pain and stiffness again. It has been particularly bad the past couple days since the pain really localizes in my shoulder and then shoots down to my fingers. Super fun.

More under the break because it gets long

Then I check my health portal and my appointment isn’t until 11. I thought my appointment was 10:45, meaning id need to be there by 10:30. Nope, I need to be there by 10:45 so that gives me some extra time, but there’s no point in trying to go back to sleep, it’ll only make me more tired. I showered last night, one less thing I have to do this morning and I’ve always been a night shower person anyway.

I’ll be honest, I really, really dislike the PA I’ve been seeing since I started pain management. I find her to be nonchalant and dismissive. I have to repeat myself because she asks the same questions every time like idk how many times I have to describe the exact symptoms I’ve been having for years, physical therapy made it worse which is what sent me there to begin with, I had an mri showing the bulging discs so it’s not idiopathic pain, also had an emg showing the nerve damage going down my arm from my neck. Like I remember an appointment I had just before my hip surgery where she suggested an EMG and I was like….that was literally the first thing that was scheduled after my first appointment here??? Read my chart??? Same with after the first time I had trigger point injections, I mentioned they helped a bit, but obviously not in the long run and instead of scheduling me for more or scheduling the mri I had already been recommended by the Dr who did my emg and found nerve damage, she says I need more physical therapy before she’d do so. Ummm physical therapy is what sent me to pain management because it exacerbated my pain and I’d be screaming and crying in pain for days following appointments but o fucking kay??? So I just didn’t go because they don’t actually check and I said that again, physical therapy does not work and I was scheduled for the mri where they found the bulging discs that physical therapy would do nothing for. I’ll never understand this backwards ass health care system that always wants to do physical therapy first for pain before an mri, then you get the mri and they’re all “Whoopsie!! We made a fucky wucky :(((( turns out your body is fucked up in ways that physical therapy wouldn’t help and would actually make worse. Sorry about that.” Like fuck you, I could have told you that before the mri based on my symptoms alone.

I just hope after this appointment I’m either scheduled for another nerve block because it did help a bit or I’m given a referral to an orthopedic surgeon who works on the cervical spine to see their opinion because if she suggests fuck ass physical therapy again, I’ll scream. Ideally would love to have my care transferred to someone else because I really, really dislike her and would rather have something actually done instead of explaining the same shit every single time and either having nothing done other than being prescribed muscle relaxers that don’t work, it’s a spinal issue, not a muscle issue or a procedure that only helps for a week.

#gkat speaks

[dyingonedayatatime]

oh, the mess

so the last 48 hours have been a minimal shit show... on Friday I contacted our mental health support. The initial contact was good, then at quarter to nine in the evening I had my "triage call". By then I'd had all my meds I was prescribed to take. I could barely understand the person due to her accent and after a few swear words on my annoyance due to the signal, her accent and my mental state she nearly hung up the phone....luckily I shouted for my hubbies help, and he took over the call. Apparently , I received a phone call at 11.43pm from the team to say a clinician would phone me the next day, after taking my final meds of the day i would never have answered that call as they sedate me completely. I woke up to find two messages to say I'd missed a call and if I didn't contact them again my referral would be closed; then my husband told me I'd had a call at 11.43pm to triage me ...are you confused because I'm fucking confused. Anyway, I got a phonecall on Saturday to say they are going to make me an appointment with my psychiatrist, but that won't be until at least Tuesday as it's Community based. I did my best today, I mowed the lawn, planted tomato, chilli and pea seeds .....I hope I can carry on...I've been told I will have to wait 18 months for any kind of therapy.

[t4tdykes]

what is finch? what do u like about it ? <- been looking for your referral code but u might have deleted those posts

oh hi hello hello! it's really just a self care app that i shamelessly shill for because its actually been a source of delight for me for like. over a year now and that's pretty rare in terms of self care bullshit in general. it's gotten me to remember to eat and take my meds better than just Trying To Remember. i'll explain why it's so cute under a cut though because i actually did ramble.

you get to hatch a tiny baby finch (and i mean stupidly tiny. it's so tiny it hurts) and name it and give it pronouns both of which you can change at any time, and when you build energy by either setting goals(drink water, say hi to a neighbor, shower, brush teeth, etc), doing lil reflections/self check quizzes, or sending Good Vibes to people in your tree town (my method bc i have convinced like 20 people onto this silly thing ndbdnfn) you get sent on a lil adventure that takes like 6 hours but you can speed up the baby's return by completing goals or doing any of the other energy gaining things mentioned above. when they return they'll have a cute thing to show you or ask, usually about the real life place they're visiting, and you get two options to reply with that'll help them build a personality, likes and dislikes. your finch can like shrek if you play your cards right.

you can also get the cutest lil outfits ever with rainbow stone currency which it does NOT expect you to buy more of in-game. the only expense is entirely optional and it is the only downside because it's a single payment not broken up into monthly subscription but i did it anyway because i actually found some real help in this thing and i am guilty of wanting access to more outfits jdjdjf. but you can absolutely enjoy yourself without doing That. it took me a long time to even consider it. but i do promise it never asks you to spend money outside of the optional subscription, which is good.

if i give you my referral code you'll also get a little micropet! a lot of people have been getting the seal, she's adorable. you get micropets by doing the monthly events which have themed outfits and furniture you can collect by playing daily and My G-d It's So Cute.

here are some examples:

activity things

some bedrooms (my fave is peachy)

some outfits (yes there's some extensive pride gear; they use the emily gwen lesbian flag also. and there's an autism pride flag! and disability pride, intersex pride, etc.)

lil profile page. look how tiny he is. even as a grown adult bird. he's so small. so SMALL!!!!

(as they grow up you can also gain more patches of feathers to give colors to and buy dye at the shop, i have so many colors i don't use LOL)

places i have explored! currently in the alps. traveling will get you new clothes options, and some genuinely thoughtful lil discovery things about the culture and landscape and people, it's really so sweet

i am just gonna leave this here to laugh so hard about it

micropets! they're even tinier! fuck!

also here's my mom sending me good vibes

noodle is dressed as a frog :'-)

anyway that's my spiel! i love this silly bird app it's genuinely delightful and sweet and makes me go "awwww" out loud so often it's just like. actually Happy.

my code is 336W5SYBQV and you can get the app here

https://app.befinch.com/invite/ewvY

#asks #beeelderly

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #drabbles open #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar