Writers!!!
What would be your dream day job to pair with your writing career?
I feel like a vet tech would be it for me. Surrounded by fluff during the day, and bound to a keyboard at night.
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Writers!!!
What would be your dream day job to pair with your writing career?
I feel like a vet tech would be it for me. Surrounded by fluff during the day, and bound to a keyboard at night.

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The last two times I've baked (both this week), I've gotten winded and exhausted from just mixing batter. My arms are awful rn and lifting things is hard, so I've had help from my mom with that, in addition to all the prep work she does and manning the oven while I monitor the time and ask for regular updates.
We make a decent team. I adore her for always fighting for me to keep my hobbies alive, even though they can be hellish with me needing everything precise and having to adjust when I previously hated having people in my way as I went around baking.
It was always a struggle, the exertion, but it's getting worse, harder. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, but I have to keep doing it, or I'll go mad. There is no joy in my life unless I make it, be it my writing or my baking. Desserts are getting harder because I cannot stand by a stove and they can be difficult to explain when I've never tried them before myself. I stick to what I know these days, but I yearn for treasures I cannot possess. I've got a cake recipe I want to try though, so we'll see how that goes. Maybe some simple dessert that doesn't require standing by a stove.
My health is garbage but the day it robs me of my ability to make my own joy, is the day I cease to be human.
Trope graphic for my novel!
I wanna write fanfic.
Can't start the damn fanfic.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Angry baking cuz everything about this world we live in is pissing me off. Everything we were taught as children about it was a lie. The world is topsy-turvy. Evil is rewarded, good is punished. Criminals walk free while victims remain in a cage. Democracy is dead, fascism is on the rise. Data centres are more important than the environment, the rich get richer and the rest of the world is fucked. Every day I see a dozen news articles on rape. Every day I see it's glorification and romanticised in media. Is it any wonder, given how grossly underpunished the crime is? Minorities are under attack, LGBTQ people, people of colour, immigrants, under fire for simply existing. So much more I don't even have the capacity to process on any level. I'm angry in a numb way, I'm exhausted emotionally, psychologi overwhelmed to the point of shutting down, physically my body is flaring violently in response to everything. I'm constantly in bouts of pain that my painkillers don't touch, repeated infections soon after another. When does it cease? When do we find peace. I'm almost 27 years old and I've lived through so much horror, I wonder if it is worth fighting for... And then I think, if we stop fighting what becomes of us? Must I sacrifice my humanity, my empathy, my kindness on this blasphemous altar of callous entities just because they have the power to run the world? Why does their power give them a free pass to abuse everything they touch? How does one fight, on every front? How do you find strength to keep going when you look up at the night sky, night after night, followed by day after day of horrible fucking reality, and wonder when the asteroid is going to hit us? When will the universe decide humans have gone too far? When will we be put out of this misery that never ceases, that follows relentlessly one after another, with hardly a break to breathe in the toxic air we're left with? I do not know what to do, nothing brings me peace, but sometimes, for one fleeting moment.... when I whisk the eggs and cream sugar and butter and pour more vanilla than recommended, when the bowl is scraped clean and the pan sits in the oven.... I find peace. Just a little calm. One thing in the world that isn't wrong. One thing that for just a few hours... makes me forget.
There should be desks in hospital waiting rooms
My eyes are on Marx;
My ears are on the door.
I pretend I'm in a classroom.
It's almost like a classroom.
Uncomfortable chairs sit in rows,
Seating people who probably would rather be anywhere else.
A book is balanced on my knees
As I do the work that the class has been set.
My book should be on a desk.
I should be in a classroom.
My book falls from my lap as I finish my sentence.
A line is through my page on disabilities and academic achievement.
Fitting.
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Happy Disability Pride Month! 🌈♿🦓🦻🧑🦯🧑🦽➡️🧑🦼➡️🧏🦾
This month Haunting the Scavenger is featured in the Disability Pride Month Bundle on itch.io alongside 30+ other fantastic independent disabled horror, fantasy, and scifi authors. As someone who lives with Chronic Migraines, Ehlers–Danlos Syndromes, and Thalassemia B Intermedia my experiences inform my work and I am proud to be a disabled creative!
Get The Bundle Here!