Lucki

Fuck, I forgot about bluesky...

My new ear and knee tattoos look awesome by the way, and they terrify the normal people in a much more pleasant and aesthetic way than my rotting graveyard of a mouth.

$22K dental work that will take months, require multiple visits, 6 months of no work, & won't be guaranteed to fix the problem?
Or $2K in tattoos for dopamine while I wait to be sent to a camp somewhere because I'm too queer & disabled for society?
I know what I'm choosing & it ain't the teeth.

They finish all my foods, even when they don't like it and are already full 😭 I've taken away my partner's autonomy and am a monsterrrrrrr. Why, hormones, whyyyyy?!

This is such BS. Hormones got me crying over all the cake I've forced my anchor partner to eat half of because I have a sweet tooth and they don't, so that means I'm a bad person for not respecting their boundaries. 😢😭🤧😭

Made a post about autism and meltdowns and kids on Threads and now it's getting likes and I'm getting followers and this is NOT what I wanted. I SPECIFICALLY requested the opposite of this.

Endo pain so high I wish I could shove a heating pad up my ass to get relief. About to drop $80 on a product that basically a heated diaper because 2 full size pads aren't enough to reach all the pain.

Buy from small independent makers, get a statement piece or two, find your favorite fabrics/textures/colors, MEND YOUR OWN CLOTHING! Don't buy everything, buy The Thing that speaks to you. Make Pinterest fashion boards. Go slow, build it up. Live in sweats 85% of the time, it's good for you.

Being told you're fashionable when you live in sweats and tanks 85% of the time is a weird experience. I'm a gremlin who can curate an outfit, not a magical fashion genius.

I wanted to only post my writing here, but it's not the wrote form of socmed. Here's to at least being quippy in my engagement, if nothing else?

When the work fit means wearing @stonesparrowthread.bsky.social and @hagcraftfarm.bsky.social all day

blessed bright and warm and safe again? Or will the twinkling stars-eyes-teeth find your warm, sweet scented skin first? There should be no breeze this deep, and it definitely should not be warm like this....6/6

further into spaces we weren't meant to be in, weak human eyes unable to see the ghost white and night blind figures moving along the wall and ceiling? Will you be okay when you drop the light and it goes out? Can you find your way back through the twisting passages, to the sunlight, 5/6

stirring of air, and definitely no panting sounds of hot breath from the shadows our flashlights can't penetrate. Will you keep going, peering around mineral deposits larger than buildings, searching for whatever is making that leathery, dragging noise ahead of you? Will you press 4/6

tons of rock? Or maybe...teeth?
There should be no breeze this far underground, through the cracks we made and some we found already pried open (from the inside, it almost looks like, but it's rock, not a prison...right?), there should be no wind moving in these channels we've clawed out, no 3/6

for more. Dark, dank, water dripping caves. We were so foolish to dig deeper, so greedy to open up the earth like this. That twinkling in the black we though might be coal, or pyrite, or gems...doesn't it look like eyes? Or distant stars that couldn't possibly exist under so many crushing 2/6

I'm Appalachian, y'all. Give me deep hollers, caves, limestone chasms, mines. Give me the coalmines. Mines, like great, black-veined wounds we carved into the bones of the earth, vomiting out sparkling dusty blood that we can turn, greedily and without caution, into something that fuels our need 1/6

can already feel them knocking on your ribcage. Wait until your bones are strong enough to withstand their beating." 4/4

sing. She is already calling me, but you are keeping your hand upon my shoulder so that I may know to wait. I am not yet ready. Patience. "Let your body rest. Dark things hide in winter and some of them will find their way into your heart if you do not wait for the right time. You 3/4

for yourself." My face falls in dismay and you look at me sadly. "Even were it permitted, you do not possess the vision for such an act. You cannot be your own mirror."
Your lessons are always the hardest. In the spring, which is fast approaching, I will hear the Maiden and my heart will 2/4

Crone.
Now it is winter and I am learning your lessons of patience and pain. The cold seeps into our bones and makes us tired. "Now," you say, "is the time to look within, to the wisdom you have gathered through the year. Do not mistake your thoughts as facts; you are not allowed to prophecy 1/4

So glad I caught your story and was able to follow you here! Your creations are amazing and I'm glad you're protecting yourself by leaving meta behind.

My very existence is a lesson in possibility and improbability and to know me is to know what potential ideas is gender and personhood could mean, if we just relaxed a little. Chill, man. We're all just vibes anyway.

I am a goddess and a god and a divine concept with a planar affiliation so all encompassing that to even try to picture it would make your knees give out until you're on them like you should be in the presence of something that creates and destroys in the same breath.

I do not use she or he pronouns, I instead inhabit another area of they-ness that others want you to treat as singular but that I know is ever evolving and contains fractured multitudes.

I'm not a woman, or a man. I am the concept of fear you felt the first time you saw an oven after learning about Hansel and Gretel, and realized that yeah, you could definitely fit in there.

Hi, please do not misgender me, your favorite mountain cave-dwelling cryptid from whatever space exists as void between the twinkling stars that are guiding you to madness.

names that become erased for the comfort of families who never tried to learn the pronunciation. A mouthful of letters, a handful of stone. 4/4

that all the rainbows now lead to all black processions through city streets, carrying the weight of names that we can only hope end up on stones covering our friends' laughing faces.
I'd rather carve them into bricks. It's been our weapon since the start, red, heavy, covered in the dust of 3/4

pet's to hear the sounds that form a soul, I glowed with a brightness that can only come from watching someone else bloom.
But now I am afraid. Was every whispered confession just something for me to hold onto until it comes time to pass it to a stonemason for carving?
Seems backwards 2/4