#when I'm in too much pain to function. too ill to function. can't be left unsupervised like I'm a child

[david-watts]

it's a bit rich coming from me. so fucking useless that I haven't managed to do anything worse than leave words that appear on my arms when I get out of the shower and some cognitive decline in so many years of trying and threatening. but I genuinely believe it would be better for everyone involved if I weren't here

[themoonsbeloved]

I still need help

Its now the 8th of January and despite being told by my friend who spoke with her boss 3 weeks ago during their meeting that he was to hire me in the beginning of January and would reach out to me, he hasn't. I'm hoping somehow, eventually, when this man finally bothers to, he will contact me for a job offer since he reassured me back in november that he still intends to hire me. But since I have no idea when that will be, that means I'm left hanging completely.

long story short I am mentally ill and disabled who was dismissed from my last and only job that I struggled 2 years to get, only to be fired in 2 months in June because of my chronic fatigue and abusive managers. I rely a lot on my henna but bookings are not consistent enough to make regular income, and majority of the money ends up going to contributing to house bills for my family.

My therapy picks up again this week, very honestly been the only thing keeping me from harming myself at this point with how painful life has been and I want to be able to continue getting it low cost (£25 per session), my therapist is so amazing and we recently came to the understanding that I have complex-PTSD, and plan to look into it more this year. I'm too mentally ill to try and look for jobs right now and am basically doing 3 jobs already (one being joint caring duties with family members for my grandparents since I live with them, which I'm not paid for obviously) with inconsistent money coming in/sessional work that I will be paid for once completed further into the year.

I have so many other costs that are coming in the near future, like paying for more medication, and for more lazer hair removal sessions for my severe hirsutism, which usually is around £300 if I'm lucky to catch offers. This is another I thing I mentally can't afford to stop doing, struggling with severe hirsutism and the trauma of it all my life means its important I can feel and live somewhat comfortably in my body. Lazer hair isn't permanent and I'm looking into electrolysis, but again, I don't have that money yet and would prefer to not leave a huge gap where I don't do lazer and the mental torture of watching my body hair grow back. I also haven't gotten my eyes checked in over 3 years, and know I will need a change in perscription and need new glasses. I hate nothing more than what its come to. I'm just exhausted and burnt out from the constant anxiety and depressive episodes, I'm barely eating or sleeping, I'm sick of everything and everyone and I just wish god would give me a break.

With all of the above in mind I'm aiming for about £600. This is all basically to help me just function and continue getting the things that help me not succumb to my mental health issues. If anything, my birthday's coming up in feb so I would appreciate it if folks gave some money if they have the means to. Anything is fine at this point.

Thank you so much

https://paypal.me/iffiia?country.x=GB&locale.x=en_GB

£0/£600

[not-poignant]

Hello! I apologise if you’ve already talked about this before and I just missed it, but if you don’t mind me asking, do you experience brainfog from your fibromyalgia (or other conditions), and if so, do you have any tips on dealing with it? I have FM as well and often find it impossible to focus on creative works when it’s bad—which is often due to the weather where I live 🫠 I feel like I can never finish anything, so I’m in awe of your output! Thank you in advance if you get the chance to answer; I hope you have a lovely day / night!

Hi anon,

I find brain fog is a pretty huge spectrum from 'can't do anything including watch TV / play video games' all the way to 'can't do executive function / editing but can probably still write a little.' So it's definitely different for everyone.

That being said, I don't try and write through brain fog. I don't think it's helpful and I don't really try and 'fix' it when it's there. Most of the time I take it as an indicator of a need to rest and/or a sign that I'm in a flare that will get worse if I push too hard. One of the reasons I took March off was because I typically am sunk energy-wise/health-wise during March-April (and October-November) due to the seasonal transitions from summer-winter and winter-summer.

The way I work accommodates this. For example, I don't have a daily wordcount, I have a monthly wordcount, so that if I need to take say 10-15 days of not writing because I'm too unwell, that's okay. I don't work full-time hours. Chapters don't actually take me that long to write (with the exceptions of sex and other action scenes), so I really only need 2-4 hours of alertness to get each one written.

I usually have a good idea in the morning of how foggy I'm going to be. And if that's the case I'm trying to get better at not fighting against it. Instead of thinking 'how do I deal with it' I think okay, it's here now, I'm going to get nothing really done today, I might go lie down again / play a mindless video game (if I can) / etc. I try and let my brain and body rest. It recovers from the brain fog fast that way.

There are also extremely basic things that are frequently overlooked re: helping with Fibromyalgia-based brain fog like: Looking into decent neuropathic or nerve-based pain medications like Amitriptyline or Lyrica (ymmv, but I know they help me). Making sure you're getting as much decent sleep as you can. Staying hydrated in a very genuine sense (sometimes my brain fog has literally disappeared after drinking enough water, though this is rare that it completely disappears). Eating well, and eating a balanced amount of protein, carbs, fat and fibre (and learning what this means for your body). And, though most of us hate it: Pacing. I.e. Making sure you stop before you're past you're limits, or not writing until you "can't write anymore." Stop when you still have a few paragraphs left in your head.

Writing is very fatiguing work, as is thinking about writing, and editing.

The reality is though, I have the privilege of being in a country where I'm on a disability pension and get disability support because of how disabled I am. Not everyone is fortunate enough to be in a country that takes care of their sick, elderly and vulnerable populations. And not everyone in those countries is lucky enough to have the "right illnesses" to access those supports. (Fibromyalgia doesn't count, for example, but I have enough other disabilities that I can still access support).

I could not live the way I live without those things, and without the support of folks on Patreon and Ream.

What I can say is that forcing myself to deal with / push through brain fog made me permanently sicker each time (my doctors and I think there's an element of ME/CFS in my diagnosis because of those, since FM shouldn't be degenerative in any way at all - literally differentials exist for this reason), so it is really important to make space for it. It took me a long time to learn this.

I schedule sleeps in the afternoon, I am honestly lying down for about 10-16 hours per day, every single day, to get the energy that I have. Yesterday I was in bed (though not sleeping the entire time) from midnight to around 11am. I was back in bed at 2pm until nearly 6pm. That's my life. I'm sure you're familiar, unfortunately. A lot is sacrificed to make sure that when I'm upright and functional, I can do things. If I'm lucky, maybe I'm in bed from 2pm until 4pm, maybe I get up at 9am, but I can't think of the last time I was awake through an entire day without collapsing (literally) as a consequence.

It can be worth sitting down and taking a proper look into pacing and your Energy Envelope. It's an ME concept that applies well to FMS and Long Covid.

Anyway hopefully there's something in this mess that helps, though my prevailing method these days is just...let the fog be there, and rest. Make sure you're taking basic care of your body. That sort of thing.

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm so glad to hear your surgery went well, lots of good luck for your recovery <333 i'm chronically ill myself and went through the whole being treated like trash by the ER staff song-and-dance too while looking for a diagnosis (i was also on the verge of death), so i was really scared for you when i saw you liveblogging your experience. But again, really happy that everything went well for you in the end ! :)

hello there! thanks for sending such a kind message!

i'm sorry you've been through it too. i totally understand that working in an ER is a horrific job. i know that the nurses and staff have to put up with an insane amount of stress, even from patients who are "well behaved". i understand that there are many people who come into the ER who expect to be treated right away, treated like they're special, or handed all the best medications right away

i saw many people in there who would literally get pissed off when the nurses would bring them tylenol, aspirin or ibuprofen instead of opioids. i watched an older woman literally start SCOWLING and her tone turned completely bitter and hateful once the nurse brought her some aspirin for her pain. a man sitting next to me started grumbling angrily because he overheard the nurse bringing me oxycodone and got pissed off that he wasn't getting any. it bothered me that so many people in there were clearly just trying to get handed opioids despite not being in a lot of pain. i get that there were a lot of people in here who were upset because they weren't getting high and i get how that could be upsetting to the nurses.

i wasn't getting high- i was in way too much pain and in hysterics. i wasn't having fun. it really upset me to overhear that people near me thought i was having a "good time" or having fun or just there to get high off of pills. like it made me really uncomfortable to hear that people around me were literally getting jealous over me being given oxy for an ungodly amount of pain. i get that many people can be rude and expect special treatment, i'm never going to sit here and say that being an ER staff member is easy by any stretch of the imagination. i DO understand that drug seeking people do exist, and i witnessed a lot of them in that ER, but it doesn't mean that you should treat the drug seeker, or anyone else like shit. drug seeking can still be a sign of a greater problem and people who engage in this type of behavior deserve to be talked to like people instead of treated like absolute shit. even if the behavior was affecting me, personally, i still don't think someone who goes to the ER specifically to seek drugs should be treated in a subhuman manner

but when i told the surgical staff about how i was being treated, they were utterly appalled. one of the nurses told me that she understands that compassion fatigue is a thing, and that burnout happens, but too many ER nurses resort to become so cold and bitter than they're just mean to their patients because they view them as a nuisance, and start viewing everyone as whiny drug seekers or people who are faking for attention. it's not good, i feel like when one gets to that point it's a good idea to switch jobs. being burnt out isn't a sign that you're weak or have bad character, it just means that you're overwhelmed

it really bothers me that ER staff tend to want to look down on patients who are there and assume that they're seeking attention. my best friend told me one of her friends got told it was "faking a stroke" because borderline personality disorders "make us do funny little things for attention." how the hell do you even fake a stroke? you can't fake the entire left side of your body drooping and failing to function

overall i'm sorry that you have received that treatment as well, there's no reason for you to get ignored or treated like garbage for being sick. i didn't want to worry anyone but i wanted to liveblog my experience to show how difficult it can be to be chronically ill, especially in America, and how people do not take health problems seriously-- even certain medical professionals

the fact that a nurse decided to get pissed off at me and berate me for becoming hysterical from pain was just out of this world. i told her that i wasn't sure how much longer i could wait because the ER waiting room was freezing cold and loud as hell (eveveryone either had several people there with them to talk to, were on the phone/facetime or were blasting music or videos from their phones), and that sitting upright in the chairs was making the pressure and pain in my abdomen worse... she decided to snap at me instead of offering even a modicum of comfort

she scoffed and went "well if you leave, and your symptoms come back, WHICH THEY WILL, you're going to have to come right back here and start all over again. we can't make special exceptions just for you, you wouldn't keep your place in line, you'd have to start all over again and wait all over again. you're an adult, you can make your own decisions, but it's just going to be the same thing all over again if you leave."

she could've went "hey, i get it, it's really stressful in here. surgery is busy and we're going to get you in there as soon as we can, it's just very busy right now." or something like that or at least checked to see if i was due for pain medication, but instead she just got mad at me for "whining". i told a member of the surgical staff team about this and her response was "they're completely discompassionate down there- there's no compassion whatsoever, they just don't... care." as much as it was shocking to hear her say that, it was validating, because it was true

i hope you don't have to deal with that again the next time you need help, i hate it when chronically ill people get branded as annoying, drug seekers, fakers, etc. because that's literally what chronic illness is. just because our situations are complicated doesn't mean people should throw their hands up in the air and give up and consider you a burden. you shouldn't have to go through that in the first place

thanks for your kind message i appreciate it! best of luck in your future care as well, it's not right for anyone who's sick to be turned away or treated like garbage. the focus should be on the patient's care, not the ER nurse's feelings or assumptions about that person. yes medical professionals are human and deserve to have their emotions respected, but they should never supersede the safety and well being of someone who is sick, whether or not they're on death's doorstep or not. take care of yourself, thanks for stopping by!

[amethystina]

A health update (and a general explanation of my long Covid)

So while I've been pretty open about living with long Covid, I realise I've never taken the time to explain what that actually means for me and my quality of living. It's a phrase I toss around but I can imagine it doesn't feel all that substantial to a lot of you.

So I figured that now that I'm feeling a bit better (more on that later) I should do so. Partly because I figure it will make it easier to understand why I sometimes have to disappear for weeks on end.

So, if you're interested, feel free to keep reading under the cut :)

But be warned: It's long and kind of whiny. But also ends on a high note! So there's that.

The first time I caught Covid was around Easter 2020, long before there were any vaccines, which meant that I was hit hard. But no matter how bad I felt during the illness itself, the aftermath has been ten times worse. I've been living with my long Covid symptoms ever since, so for four years now. They worsened for a couple of months when I caught Covid a second time in February 2021, but have otherwise held pretty steady during those four years.

A lot of people experience different symptoms with their long Covid and, sometimes, they'll change as the weeks and months go by. I actually had a very interesting couple of months during 2022 when my sense of smell just went completely whack and everything suddenly smelled differently than it should. Like, I could be smelling an apple but it did not smell like an apple. It was a weird time in my life.

Anyway. My most common symptoms are fatigue, fevers, joint pain, brain fog, memory issues, incoherent speech, and lowered blood circulation.

(The latter actually kickstarted the Raynaud's syndrome I have on my mother's side so now I struggle with fingers and feet that will occasionally go white, bloodless, and completely numb at random intervals. Fun times)

The fatigue and fevers are the worst by far. For the past four years, I have had exhaustion fevers between two to five times a week. Or every single day if I'm unlucky. It's very much tied to how much sleep I'm getting, how well I'm eating, and how many taxing things I do each day. I need eight hours of sleep to be functional and anything less than that will most likely mean I'll end up having a fever before the day is over.

Unfortunately, I've always had issues with my sleep so, on most nights, I don't get eight hours even if I try my absolute best. Sometimes it's because I wake up too early and can't fall back asleep and, sometimes — because my life sucks — it's because my fever is so high that I can't fall asleep. Cue the endless cycle of too little sleep and fevers.

Because one of the main issues with these exhaustion fevers — and what makes them so difficult to manage — is that there's no way to lower them. Medicine has no effect whatsoever. Once I have it, I just have to suffer through however many hours are left until I can sleep and hope that it'll be gone in the morning. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

And every day my energy level gets just a little bit lower and the fever a little bit higher. Some days, all I can do when I get home from work is to lie on the couch and stare at the wall because I'm too tired and in too much pain to even watch something. And, again, no amount of medicine helps.

It continues on like this for a while and, every third or fourth month or so, the strain eventually becomes too much and I fall ill. My body simply shuts down from the continued stress and exhaustion, to the point where I can barely get out of bed. And, usually, I can feel it coming. On top of the fevers, I start coughing, then get a headache, and then my nose gets stuffy. And, by that time, I know I have about two to four days before I get sick. It's so accurate that my coworkers have learned that when I give the sign, they have to tell me whatever tasks they need to be finished within the near future since I'll probably be out of commission for one to two weeks.

But I eventually recover, go back to work, and so the cycle starts again. And again. And again. And again.

For four years.

All of this has, unsurprisingly, affected my quality of life to a pretty significant degree. I can barely work, let alone spend time doing any of my hobbies. I can't really travel anymore and, if I do, I'll get sick from the exhaustion. Even the 50-minute commute to the office (which I have to do three times a week) usually results in a fever before the day is over.

This inability to travel was how I ended up missing my maternal granddad's funeral. My shitty relatives didn't tell us the date for when he would be buried until there were only two days left and even if I could have put myself on an overnight train to get there, I knew I would be in no shape to actually be at the funeral if I did. So I couldn't go.

I did go to sit with my paternal grandmother as she was dying but, as expected, I got sick and couldn't return to work for a couple of days afterwards.

I also have to skip most birthday celebrations and any events happening on weekdays since I'm usually too feverish or won't manage the required trip to get there. My life has shrunk so much I barely recognise it anymore. I don't recognise myself. I used to be one of those people who could do a million things at the same time and somehow complete all of them. I was firm, organised, and efficient.

And now I'm not.

(... or, well, technically I am — at least compared to many others — but not compared to how I used to be xD)

Point being, a lot of things have changed and I don't like it. But, with that said, I'm also well aware that I'm lucky to be alive and I'm fortunate enough to have a stable job and a roof over my head. So, all things considered, I'm still doing pretty well.

But I also can't lie and say that this hasn't affected me in a deep and fundamental way. My life has changed and, right now, I don't know if it'll ever return to what I used to consider normal. And dealing with that knowledge — and the grief and fear that comes with it — hasn't been easy. I have cried ugly, self-pitying tears over this many, many times. It's frustrating to have no control over what my body does and to constantly have to be careful of what I do so I don't exhaust myself. I am furious that this happened to me.

But, after four years, there's also a certain amount of acceptance. And while I'm annoyed by my new limitations, I try my best not to feel too sorry for myself. Instead, I try to adapt as best I can, even if I might not always do it gracefully.

That does mean that I sometimes push myself more than I should, though. Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't never produce anything. As depressing as it is to admit, everything I've given you in the past four years has been while I was sick. I don't think a single chapter I've written or drawing I've made has been untouched by this. I've become an expert at writing, editing, and drawing even with a fever.

That doesn't mean I regret it, though — quite the opposite. I think that if I hadn't had a reason to write and draw, I would have felt even worse. A lof of the time, the excitement I feel when I'm able to post a chapter or show off a drawing I've made has been the highlight of my week. It's an accomplishment.

But, that said, it's still hard. Writing in particular. It requires a level of brainpower I can't reach when the fevers are too bad. And so, sometimes, I just can't. I literally just can't.

And, back in January, as I was trying to edit chapter 39 of Who Holds the Devil, I honestly pushed myself too hard. I was so determined to finish it that I didn't let myself see just how bad I was feeling — not at all helped by how emotionally draining the content of the chapter was.

It was only once I finished the chapter and posted it that I realised how absolutely wretched I felt. Not because of the chapter itself, but my lack of compassion for myself, I guess? Because the fevers were bad, I was barely sleeping, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. And, what was worse, I realised that I was displaying depression symptoms I hadn't seen in over ten years.

All of a sudden, I got annoyed as soon as a minor inconvenience appeared. Everything people said to me was dissected into its tiniest component. I feared that people were secretly hating me. I couldn't meet people's eyes anymore when I was talking to them. I didn't realise I was just sitting there, staring at a wall, until several minutes had already passed.

And, as the final nail in the coffin, I stopped talking about how I was feeling.

And that, right there, is my last warning that I need to do something — always has been, ever since I was a teenager. When I clam up completely, refusing to admit to the people around me that I'm feeling bad, that's when I'm about to spiral.

So, the very next day, I went to my boss and told her that I'm getting burnt out and I need to do something NOW or this was going to turn ugly real soon. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and, after a doctor's visit, I was put on partial sick leave. Right now, I'm working six hours a day instead of eight and, let me tell you, I'm thriving.

Or, well, as much as I can while still having long Covid.

I'm almost angry at how much better I feel because, if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner. I actually have energy now! I've only had a fever about four times in a little over a month! That's insane! It used to be four a week!

So yeah. I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. The downside is that the partial sick leave is still only temporary and there are no guarantees that I'll be able to keep it. Though, if need be, I'll just have to ask my boss to rewrite my contract and change the amount of hours I work because, man, I don't ever want to go back considering how much better and happier I feel. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I feel like I've gotten my life back. It's not quite the same as before, but close enough to it that I kind of want to cry again — but happy tears this time.

And so I've spent the past couple of weeks just... living? When, before that, it felt like I was merely existing. I've been drawing a lot since that helps with the depression symptoms (which are almost completely gone, thank god) but writing has been harder. Possibly because I forced myself to do it during a time when I felt really, really bad and now I'm instinctively trying to shy away from it. But, since I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm going to give it another try this weekend. I want to write and I miss the stories I'm working on. And, hopefully, since I'm feeling a bit better, I can maybe get back to a more structured uploading schedule. But we'll see. As always, I can't make any promises.

But that's about it, I guess? I'm feeling better and, since I am, I've been doing a lot of things that I wasn't able to before (like taking walks — I take a lot of walks). And I'm still trying to figure out my new routine now that I work less. And while I still get sick sometimes (I am right now, in fact, due to lack of sleep on Tuesday night) I always find my way back eventually.

So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience 💜 I admit that I don't really enjoy writing things like these since it feels like I'm whining — I was very much raised not to take up space or complain when things are difficult (an unfortunate side effect to being the middle child with two disabled, high-maintenance siblings) — but I also prefer honesty and transparency. And I feel a little guilty since there are times when I've given pretty harsh responses when people question why I'm sick all the time or why I don't upload chapters as often as I used to, but without actually explaining why. So I guess it's time to be honest?

And the truth is that I've been constantly sick for the past four years. Not only due to my long Covid, but also the emotional and psychological toll of all the loss, grief, and pain I've been through. These past four years have been rough.

But I'm not saying that to gain pity or make excuses. I actually think I've done pretty well considering just how hindered I've been. I've improved my drawings so much and have written... god knows how many words. I'm honestly kind of scared to check xD But it has to be over 600k by now, maybe closer to 700k.

I think my only regret is that I haven't been able to engage with you all to the extent I would want. I wish I could be a more active and enthusiastic participant in fandom — to seek you out, hold conversations, and give you all even a fraction of the attention you've given me. I feel like I don't offer you nearly enough.

But I also know that I have to accept my own limitations. So, for now, we'll have to settle for whatever I can give, even if it's less than I would want. But I will keep on creating, trust me on that, because I'm stubborn as fuck and even if my pace is slower, I'm still determined to finish what I start.

And that's the note I want to end this on. I have suffered, yes — more so than I may have expressed to you all — but I've still managed to create some beautiful things. And while I mourn who I used to be and the fact that some of you have never known me at my best, I don't think the me I am right now is all that terrible. Do I want things to change? Yes, definitely. But do I want to change the choices I've made and the things I've accomplished in the past four years? No, I can't say that I do. I'm proud of what I've done, especially considering my limitations.

And, if you're reading this, thank you so, so much for your kindness, compassion, and support. Some of you are old friends while others of you are new, but I am grateful to every single one of you. You have made these past four years more bearable. You have made it easier to keep fighting. You have made it worth it.

Thank you 💜

[abigailmoment]

Sometimes it was obvious from a distance when something was wrong with prey. But other times, you didn't know that there was something sickly about blood until after you'd drunk a deer-ful of it.

The heavy sensation of nausea was a familiar feeling. Astarion's old diet had never been what one might call hygienic. The rats of Baldur's Gate suffered from many blood born maladies. Repeated exposure had made him resistant to those, but the beasts of the wilds had exciting new diseases. One of which had him curled up in the corner of his tent, too dizzy to stand and wracked with cramps every hour or so.

He wanted to retch, but he didn't want to lose the blood and he was afraid of being ill too loudly. The others might hear and Lae'zel might make good on her promise. Was this bad blood or ceremorphosis? Can't be too careful and he wasn't in a position to object. You needed to be able to stand and see clearly to argue with a gith and a greatsword. Snicker-snack and then the party would just use magic to open locked chests.

That's how the world worked. Bad things happened when people saw that you were weak.

Full text below. Full Text On AO3

The pain waxed and waned. When it waned he dipped into fitful periods of meditation. Which was good. Unconsciousness passed the time. But it also meant that morning came as a surprise. He startled awake because someone was knocking on a tent pole.

"Rise and shine, Ancunin. Time to be the only vampire in the realms who's a morning person."

He twitched awake and up into a crouch, but then his catlike reflexes slammed into vertigo and made that into a graceless scrabble to half sitting up. All the movement woke his head to the fact that it was apparently supposed to be aching terribly. He groaned.

The person at the tent flap crouched down and peered inside. "Are you okay?"

It was Tav. That was workable. He had pull with Tav. He tried to compose a response. It needed to be casual, minimize this, and give an explanation that had nothing to do with mindflayers. It took far too long, but he came up with:

"I'm afraid I'm not up for adventure, darling. I ate something that disagreed with me. About more than just being eaten."

The cavalier words felt heavy on his tongue. He couldn't roll them off with the careless lilt they were supposed to come with. But he got it all out without mumbling at least.

"Got it," Tav said, peering in at him. "I don't know what spells she has today, but I could get Shadowheart to come over and…"

"No," Astarion snapped much more harshly than he meant to. "No, that's…that wouldn't work on this."

He actually wasn't sure, he'd never had access to someone with Restoration before, but he absolutely could not stand the idea of the imperious cleric looking down her nose at him huddled on the ground.

"Okay," Tav said immediately.

He couldn't see her clearly. The dizziness was still with him and made blurry multiples of anything he tried to focus on. Tav was a violet blotch rimmed in sunlight at the entrance to his tent. She wasn't immediately leaving, which made him nervous.

"What do you…" She started to ask something, but trailed off and turned it into a different question: "How does this work?"

Ah. She wanted to know when she'd have a functional rogue back. That was reasonable.

"It won't last more than a day," he assured her. Which wasn't necessarily true, but the pain wasn't acute anymore and after a day he'd be able to conceal whatever was left.

"Got it," Tav said again, a little more slowly this time.

And then she left. She'd gotten what she needed from him. That was good. He could rest again.

Astarion shifted slowly so that his back was to the back of the tent, flush with the rock wall it was pitched against. The acute pain was gone, thank the Gods, but he still felt nauseated in a way that made him want to crawl out of his skin. He closed his eyes and listened to people moving around the camp. He didn't want to lie down again until everyone else had settled down. The clatter and banter of a group leaving for the day was easy to track because Karlach was among them and she was excited about something. After that everything was quieter. He started to relax.

And then he wasn't relaxed anymore because there were footsteps next to his tent and a shape at the entrance.

"Hey. Can I come in?"

It wasn't Lae'zel. It was Tav again. And he was so relieved he told her "Yes." immediately without really thinking about it.

She ducked inside and sat down opposite him. Her arms were full of random things. It was like when she went around compulsively looting everything in a room, only she'd done it to the camp. Which was strange on multiple levels.

"You're still here?" Astarion asked, a little muddled. Tav never stayed at camp.

"Sure," she said easily, as if this were in any way normal. "Wyll and the girls are going looking for buried treasure. They don't need me for that."

That meant Lae'zel was gone, which was exceptionally good news for Astarion's ability to unclench his shoulders. Tav shifted her armful of nonsense to her lap and fished out a bottle. She uncorked it and held it out towards him.

"We don't have any antidotes left after that spider debacle, but Gale thought an infusion of mugwort would help," she explained.

Astarion took the bottle carefully. It smelled like grass. He supposed it couldn't do him any more harm, so he drank some. It tasted like ashes, but so did everything that wasn't blood. It at least didn't make him feel worse, so he drank some more.

Tav deposited the rest of her burden, which consisted of pillows, a sleeping mat and a blanket.

"When I'm sick all I want to do is be surrounded by soft things," she explained. "So I grabbed a bunch of soft things. Do you want them?"

Yes. Of course he wanted them. He had a general policy of wanting all of the things. It was just perplexing when he didn't have to steal them. The blanket was the very nice sheepskin one Tav had decided to go back into a burning building to rescue after she'd finished saving all the people.

(After the fourth time she'd ducked back inside to save sausages of all things Lae'zel started howling that the tadpole had eaten her brain. She and Shadowheart had joined forces to literally drag Tav away as the tiefling argued animatedly that there were still potato wedges in the kitchen. It had been very funny.)

Then an explanation sidled into his head, illuminating his confusion--this was about the sex. People in alleged relationships did all sorts of odd and particular things for each other. He'd forgotten.

She'd asked him a question, hadn't she? He hadn't answered. He'd been running his fingers over the very soft sheepskin. Now he'd been quiet for too long and now the silence stretched out strangely. He didn't quite know what to fill it with.

Tav broke it with another question: "Would you like me to stay?"

He really wasn't sure. He didn't want to perform. That was so tiring. But it felt safer to have a body between him and the outside world right now. When he wasn't sure he could stand and definitely couldn't stab anything worth a damn. He had pull with Tav. She didn't want him to die.

It was really such a nice thing, to have someone else care that you were alive.

"Do as you will," is how he managed to respond.

She stayed. She helped him lay out the extra mat so that it lay straight on his usual one. She cleared away a pile of books and didn't comment or even look at him when he swayed slightly, or somehow stumbled despite the fact he wasn't even standing.

She ended up sitting cross-legged next to the entrance, looking out and fiddling with a lyre. The one she'd stolen from that drow they'd killed. Astarion had shifted the sleeping mats so that he could lie down with his back to the comforting solidity of stone. He had two pillows and the sheepskin blanket. He thought the mugwort might be helping because the heavy feeling of illness had gentled from claw-skin-off-to-distract-yourself-bad to just deeply unpleasant.

He rested. It was easier now. He even drifted off at one point. He closed his eyes and when he opened them the sunlight was slanting in a different way and Tav had picked up one of his books.

"Hey," she said, noticing he was awake. "Can I touch your forehead?"

Random sort of a question. But fine. Astarion made an indifferent noise that could be interpreted as assent. Then he went very still because she was touching his forehead and that was…odd.

"You don't have a fever," Tav observed.

Astarion pursed his lips. Now that he didn't have to concentrate on sitting up, he could inject just the correct amount of condescending archness into saying: "That would require having a body temperature."

There was a pause.

"Right," Tav said, sounding duly chastened.

"Don't quit your day job, darling."

She laughed. "And here I had my heart set on becoming a vampire nursemaid."

He snorted at her. Her fingers hadn't left his forehead, and when they did they curled away slowly. Trailing through his hair in a lingering way that made him very aware when the touch was gone. She went back to reading his book.

He felt better. Almost normal, as long as he stayed still. And he didn't need to move, right now. The camp was quiet. The only things he could hear were birds and the scrape of paper as Tav turned pages.

This was…nice?

This was nice.

***

This is the start of a series. The rest of the story is on AO3.

***

[denimaww]

My chronic illness is developing at such a fast pace that I don't recognize myself or my body. The patterns that I painstakingly learned to navigate are changing, and when I finally think that I've got them figured out again, they change. My sense of physical self is warped and my mental state is fragile. A constant knot of anxiety and anger looms in my chest, unraveling and tying into itself in impossibly tight loops, too tight for me to pick at alone and unraveling only at the most untimely moments. I'm grateful for the trial at life I had the past few years - the normalcy of bodily function that always seemed like a fantasy to me, was a dream to experience. But I wonder, now that the dream is slipping away, if I've been corrupted by the thought that I could succeed where before I never even thought myself capable. I feel impossibly angry, impossibly frustrated, with my lack of ability. I function in increments, and this world is not made for one who cannot function at highest capacity all the time. I am failing.

If I can't participate in the way I'm meant to, is there a place for me? I know the answer from those around me would be yes, of course. But that is a kindness, said only to soothe, though I can't fault them. But if there is to be a place for me, it has to be fought for. Tooth and nail, clawed and torn out of the canopy woven of steel thread that constitutes societal expectation.

But I have fought. I've bitten and clawed so much that my fingers are bloodied stubs and my mouth is raw at the gums. Forgive me, for being bitter. Forgive me, for feeling only frustration at an age where I should be hopeful. Forgive, but never forget, that I am in my right.

Never have I been quiet. Never have I acquiesced a single piece of my autonomy, of my voice, of my will. Not once have I rolled over and given up. I have clutched my aching stomach and taken step after step, whined only to sound like a wounded predator, never relenting my hunger.

Not a single person who knows me can accuse me of weakness. No one who has seen me in pain can say that I was exaggerating. And burn, those who do. You are devoid of sight, devoid of empathy, devoid of the ability to listen. I have pleaded with you to see my plight, to see me, to see anything. You refuse, and so, you can burn. I don't have energy left to give you, I need it, because even though you will not listen, you tell me to go on. So save your falsehoods for the medical records and let me go, because clearly, though I've asked, there is no help for me to receive from you. In it's very design, help has been razed from the canopy of steel - the masters who wove it didn't see fit to include it for those who do not belong to their own. And so long as no man wills it, there will be no research, no discoveries, no effective treatments and no cure. Because there needs to be a man, and I need to belong to one. And I never have, and I never will. Burn.

Burn, but please don't let the smoke cloud my sight, for I need it. I feel as though all I do is blink to see, see a way, a medium, anything, to carry me forward. I writhe in my bonds, scream in my confines, for an outlet. My hunger is never relenting, but in my forced inaction it is eating me alive. Nothing is enough to sate me, when nothing is given to me without such a fight that what I gain has already been lost twofold in the fight to gain it. My hope is in deficit just by me stoking it's fire. My faultering embers need a bellows, but I am too tired to use it.

The injustice, of being left to fend for myself with only a mockery of aid offered, is all that is left to incite me to keep going. What drives me is bitterness, cynicism, hatred and spite. These aren't sources of positive energy. The flame of my candle is burning with a biting cold, not the life-giving warmth it ought to.

And how do I change this, how do I escape my mental cage of icicles, my reality, where hell has frozen over. Most times, I don't even want to. I feel justified, to be here. I have carefully constructed my prison as a shield and l wield it with rightful might. Like a sworn paladin, I am faithful to my oath. It is who I am.

Can I keep the shield without the cold? Can I be safe, without a cage? Am I asking to have my cake and eat it too, or would I be just as justified to gorge myself and be sated as I am in my starvation?

I know I want to. And I think I need to. But my body is failing and my mind is darkening. When my options are exhausted, where do I turn? I feel lost.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

I'm too exhausted to eat, and I feel like shit so I'm ranting, ignore this I'm just being a whiny baby

Love when people think I'm lazy so I have to prove how disabled I am by injuring myself for them. Like no, I'm not just being lazy, I vacuumed the house for less than ten minutes and put my neck out while my back's already one "good posture" away from going crunch like an old, brittle plastic chair somewhere in the middle and no longer being able to bend or straighten at all for god only knows how long. There's a fucking reason I take things slowly. I'm sorry that sitting down writing or drawing or reading all day takes less energy and causes my body less damage than cleaning the house. I do what little bits I can when I can, I play housekeeper as much as possible, I empty and fill the dishwasher, I do the laundry, I light the fire so the house isn't 2°C when my mum gets in from work, I feed the dogs. Yeah, other people could do more, but I'm not other people, I'm tired and I'm in pain and when that gets too high I stop being able to use my fucking legs, so I'm sorry I don't constantly push myself past breaking point just so I can still not do enough.

Eating takes energy. Showering takes energy. standing and walking takes energy. All of it takes energy I don't fucking have. If had a job I genuinely wouldn't have the energy to eat in a day, I wouldn't have the energy to shower or do any of the chores I currently just about manage around the house. So yes, I know I'm lazy and should do more. But I can't. I physically can't. I know I should push myself more and build up my stamina, but I tried that and it left me almost completely unable to function other than to sleep and force myself to eat maybe one proper meal a day and I was ill constantly because my body didn't have the energy to fight off colds or COVID or any bug that was going around. I get that I need to work harder, but this IS me working harder, my 100% only gets me to other people's 30% and I can't fucking help that.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Angsty OC asks

[ The original ]

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

The Event of 2018.

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

She used to be a prankster/class clown in school. She used to be a barracks bunny.

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

She's like the Hulk "I'm always angry" but, worse. Because she's ready to go low and commit torture if necessary (like Price and Ghost).

4. When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

Fight.

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

Very fucking far. Way too fucking far.

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

You can't. Mostly because her moral compass changes to align with the actions she's performing. She tries to justify it with the reason that she's "doing good for the world"... And uses whatever means to do that.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

She's a lot less closed off and cold.

8. Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Yes.

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

"We can't look back for nothin' /Take what you need, say your goodbyes"

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

Getting discharged after The Event and going rogue/joining a paramilitary group.

11. What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

A garrote. Uses it often.

12. Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

Yes. She closes herself off to people after The Event. During a time when she needed the most support and help, she refused it... And continues to do so today.

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

No. She's eerily quiet, intimidating... But I'd probably think she's cool.

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Loyal. Reliable. A good soldier.

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

Michelle Rodriguez!

16. What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

High but she's a wimp. She's still functional when in a LOT of pain, but whines like a bitch the whole time.

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

The Event of 2018. An explosion took out half of her SEAL team, half of a unit of Marines assisting them... Including her dad and brother... And left her with 3rd degree burns and needing grafts + physical therapy.

18. Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

Cold and detached.

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

You won't notice it until she's got her arms wrapped around a man's neck and is strangling him without so much as a twitch of the eyebrow.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Average amount. It stems more from her protective instincts. She doesn't like people getting too close for comfort to the people she cares about.

21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

Chronic Paresthesia (an abnormal sensation of the skin like tingling, pricking, chilling, burning, numbness for no apparent reason) in her legs.

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

Neutral.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Sadness. She just gets eerily quiet and zones out.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

She probably would've been working as a translator? Or maybe a language teacher? Who knows.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

How complex she is as a person, but how simple she is to write for.

[artimace]

I woke up yesterday with a bit of postdrome lingering from a three-day migraine that kicked in as I was traveling home from my parents' house in Florida. I was low energy: even moving a single load of laundry to the dryer exhausted me enough to need an hour-long lie down, because I needed to save my spoons.

I needed my spoons because my wife talked me into buying tickets to Green Day's show in Milwaukee despite the hour plus drive there and back (she can't drive) and my steadily increasing leeriness of buying concert tickets after a few too many went unused because a migraine hit day-of.

The Saviors tour had three openers (including the Linda Lindas who have grown so so much in just the year since we saw them open for Paramore). Green Day's set alone includes the entirety of Dookie and American Idiot because the albums are turning 30 and 20 respectively. My guys, the last concert I attended I was still recovering from my knee surgery (I grew extra bones and had to have them removed so they would stop getting in the way of the joint function). We sat in the ADA section (I was using a cane and was struggling to stand for very long at the time) and left after the opener because I got a migraine and my wife started to get overwhelmed (we got the tickets mainly for the opener, but had been excited to see the main act as well).

This time? Reader, I was on my feet for almost three hours straight during Green Day's set. I had to be strategic and sit through the openers, I had to sit down sometimes when I didn't want to because my feet (not my hip! not my knee!) were hurting too much. But I stood, and I danced, and I sang and screamed and cheered, when two years ago I had to sit through the entirety of Florence and the Machine, and cried because I couldn't stand, couldn't see because I couldn't stand (and hadn't booked ADA because, when I got the tickets, I wasn't using a cane yet). It was particularly painful because I couldn't help but remember the last time I saw her in 2016, when I danced my way through the show. My body still hurts (my back definitely reminded me that I'm in my thirties when we got back to the car), but I did it. I was able to stand for the show, and I didn't have to leave early because of a migraine, and I got to go on a fun date with my wife to see one of the bands that formed my whole ass personality when I was in middle school. This, on a day when I was feeling that, after three days of migraine and retreating to bed to constantly rest despite my many obligations, I didn't like the person my chronic illness was making me be.

[kadez]

To the first boy I ever loved

i somehow manage to make it about you. It's always about you. You have this stupid gift of existing and capturing my whole attention with your brown eyes with flicks of Hazel and your freckles that are only seen from a close proximity. You're beauty enraptured me from the second we met when we were eleven and I'll probably still be thinking of you when I'm eighty. You have that affect on me.

When i used to look into your eyes I'd see my future. I was sure my kids would have those eyes I'd be able to admire them. Our kids would be half me and half you a perfect blend of our personalities that fit so well we'd convince an atheist that soul mates were a real thing.

I believe in soul mates, i believe they are never supposed to meet it would be too changing too world shifting that they are not intended to happen. Soul mates are fiery and stupidly in love like Romeo and Juliet. Soul mates are the dark part of love, once you connect you gain the inability to move past that person.

I love you and your stupid smile the way you suck your cheeks in when you laugh, if you even still do. Your dark brown eyes with little specks of light hazel and brown canvassing them like God intended to make a galaxy in your eyes. Your eyes are stars and I am an astronomer desperate to understand you and your entire being.

You look stupidly good with any haircut I remember the tone in your mother's voice when we called her and asked if you could shave your head and i remember the tears in my eyes from laughing when we made a bet that you wouldn't.

Best fiver I've ever spent.

I started believing in God because of you. You taught me about God and faith in a way no one ever did. I supported a football team half way across the continent because it was your home team that you adored. I did it because I adore you.

As much as I dream of moving on I never well because you were the first person I ever fell so in love with I catch myself doing or saying things that you did. I wonder if that happens to you.

I want to move on but I hope you never do. I hope you feel the turmoil you caused me by not loving me how you should've. I know you're a horrible person and we will never happen again after what you did.

I want you to suffer and i want you to be sorry for what you did. I hope you feel the pain and anguish you made me feel. I want you to repent because God would never agree with how you laid your hands on me.

I'm sorry. You learned that behaviour being okay from somewhere and I know you only explained a slight bit of your history to me but I had the same one and i never did that to you. I loved you and I still do I'll never stop loving you.

The rough feeling of your knuckles is forever ingrained in my skin and my memories yet I have to pretend I'm okay whenever I see you or your friends because I can't let any of you know that I know who you are. I know what you are.

You're damaged you're sad and you took it out on me and it's okay. I'm okay now if it made you feel better then ill deal with it. I just need you to be happy and feeling your best because I can't function if you aren't happy.

No one could fill the shattered space in my heart left by you and your stupid brown eyes, your stupid freckles that dot your nose only seen by those closest to you, your eye bags, your stupid smile. I hate how happy it makes me feel thinking of you.

[lollytea]

LOLLY. I AM SHAKING YOU IN JOY AND PAIN. STRAY ITALIAN GREYHOUND. THIS SONG.

Okay, so I of course stole it off your Hunlow playlist because it's perfect for Hunter and how he sees Willow.

or so I THOUGHT. Until TODAY.

BECAUSWHFHAHHD like,

"I've just settled into the glass half empty made myself at home

And so why now?

Oh, please not now

I just stopped believing in happy endings, harbors of my own"

I know that in FTF Willow only lets herself feel this way for a moment, before Hunter reminds her of who she is BYYY:

"But you had to come along didn't you

Tear down the doors

Throw open windows

Oh, if you knew just what a fool you have made me

So what do I do with this?"

He tore open the doors (vines lol) literally and figuratively! And what is she supposed to do with that?? Fall in love. Obviously. How could you NOT after a cute boy teleports you out of self-loathing and doubt!?

LIKE:

"This sudden burst of sunlight

And me with my umbrella"

I AM NOT OKAY. THIS REVELATION HAS ALTERED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY.

It still works from Hunter's perspective too, obviously, from like ASIAS onward but after FTF I think it works the other way around too and I just. They're just. PAIN. MY HEART BRO. There are so many other lyrics that fit in the little music video in my head of the two of them but I'm literally on my break at work and need to go LMAO

Sorry for just vomiting in your ask box😂

This is the second time this month I've made somebody go insane over the Stray Italian Greyhound and huntlow combo. Vienna Teng put some fucking CHEMICALS in that song!!! Turns the freakin frogs gay!!!!

And YEAH!!! I added it to the playlist back when I made it after Labyrinth Runners. Because that's what I associated it with at the time!!! Hunter's lost his home, his family, his religion, his identity, his sense of safety. He's LOST everything!!! And he's struggling to come to terms with that. By the time Gus finds him at Hexside, the shock has subsided and he thinks he can be functional now. But he's not okay. He's still got a lot going on mentally and it's messing him up.

But at the same time....hallway blush scene....he has his little "Oh. It's her." moment. And I know that he was very confused in the aftermath of the Hexside incident. And when he's left alone to reflect on what he's feeling he's just "Now?? Are you fucking serious?? We're really gonna do this now??? I just found out I'm not a real person and everybody's gonna die next week, is now REALLY the fucking time???" He has ENOUGH problems!! He doesn't know how to deal with this!! But also he can't help it because while he's fucked up and traumatized, he's also brimming with confusing fizzling teenage hormones and she's Willow Park and it's very overwhelming and scary and doesn't know which way is up or down and he has no idea what he's gonna do about this. Feelings like these demand so much from him and after everything he's been through he really doesn't know if he can stomach it. But she won't give him a moment to catch his breath and he's locked in now and there's nothing he can do about it.

BUT YEAH!!!! I've had that playlist on quite a lot since FTF leaked because I have been so not normal about them. So I have NOTICED that it now applies to multiple different angles. And thinking about the chorus from Willow's perspective during the whole vine scene makes me ILL. And then in the aftermath of that....the vibes of that song are so....terrified yet giddy and overwhelmed yet euphoric. How fucking soft and blushy Willow was after that scene. "Just what a fool you have made me" YEAH!!!!

He IS a sudden burst of sunlight!!!

She IS with her umbrella!!!!

ALSO ALSO ALSO!!! Being a girl who has such a tight reign over her own emotions completely falling victim to loserish behaviour during this part? Ready to fucking combust cuz she is being held so gently.

"What do I do, do I do with a love that won't sit still?

Won't do what it's told"

HATE this song, HATE them!!!!

[guildtree]

Hi! This is going to be a big ventpost/diary entry/bid for understanding/I don't even know. It's me needing to get thoughts out of my head and into words basically. If you're not in the mood for that and just want more Guild Wars memes, fair enough, keep scrolling, I hope you have a lovely day.

For the rest of you brave souls:

One thing nobody told me about depression, or even recovering from a depressive episode, is that it totally fucks with your emotional regulation. For me at least, being depressed was not sadness per se but numbness. I think it's formally called anhedonia, I call it robot mode, but there's a point where the stress and pain gets too much and my brain simply says, "Enough," and hits the off-switch on all my emotions. I can't feel sadness, I can't feel anger, I can't feel joy. There was a period of a few years where my emotional range went from 'mildly pleased' to 'exhausted.' I've had friends and family tell me they could see a marked difference in how I acted during my lowest point, from having flat facial expressions to losing my sense of humor to being tired all the time. Robot mode is a serious shift in brain function.

Of course, now that I'm recovering from this I can feel the full range of emotion. Which is great! And... also not so great. Because the full range of emotion includes happiness, but it also includes anger and fear and jealousy and true crying sadness, all of which I seem to have forgotten how to handle. (Or maybe I never learned, since I was at least mildly depressed during what a psychologist might call a 'critical phase of development'.) A relative says something rude while I'm stressed and suddenly I want to punch them where before it would have slid off my back. I startle easily when a big truck zooms by, where before I would walk across a busy street without looking first because I simply didn't care. Sometimes it feels like I'm flipping through a photo album of different emotions, slowly remembering how to process one only for another to fly right out of left field.

Right now it's loneliness. There have been a lot of changes for me in the past two years, some because of outside circumstances and others because of choices I made to help myself feel better. I know I made the right decisions, but even good change leads to losing things, and I've lost contact with a lot of my friends at this point. I'm going to have to rebuild my social network all over again, which is a scary and painful and lonely process, and ironically I actually feel more sad from that because I'm not depressed. Sometimes having emotions feels more like a curse.

I think I have to remember the good parts of it too. Yes, I can feel happiness again, and a sunrise brings me peace instead of dread now, but also even the "negative" emotions have their place. Anger is what kept me alive. I'll often say that I'm still around mostly out of sheer spite, and it's true: a real breakthrough for me was realizing, "Hey, it's not my fault I'm hurting, it's the fault of an illness and the rest of the world being shitty", getting mad about it, and deciding to fight back. Fear keeps me from doing stupid things and in a sense leads to pride - because to be proud of yourself for stepping outside your comfort zone, you have to have an 'outside the comfort zone' to begin with. I'm starting to think the point of loneliness may be to push me to seek connection with others - the feeling that I need other people, that I hurt without them, has led me to be more vulnerable with others than I normally would, something that has generally turned out better than I expected.

I feel things now. I feel a lot of things now. It's scary and it's beautiful and it's overwhelming and I love it and I hate it and I'm so so glad I can. The world deserves more than robot-me. I deserve to be more than robot-me. Maybe someday I'll figure out happiness, but for now I'll take embracing the chaos as a substitute.

[smokescholar]

05:  A memory that your character wishes to erase  

Character Development || Accepting

When he came out of hibernation, he knew something was wrong. He wasn't in the dungeon anymore as far as he could tell, though the overwhelming smell of blood and decay did set alarms off in his head. There was a figure in the corner, the faint glow of purple and green telling him it was another Mahjarrat; the jerky movements as they approached making him inch away.

Pain

Electric pain shot down his arm, taking over his senses and making his vision go dark for a moment.

"GODS ABOVE! You're finally awake."

When the emaciated-looking Mahjarrat stepped out of the shadows, Wahisietel's heart dropped in his chest. He was in Calyvorra's clinic. The normally egotistical smile that never seemed to leave her face was missing, replaced with something he assumed she was incapable of. Concern? Worry? She had been laughing and smiling throughout the entire Croesus epidemic, what had gotten her so upset?

"What am I doing here?" Wahisietel asked, eyes never leaving her face. "I demand answers!"

"Someone found you unconscious. They somehow managed to drag you here, demanded that I 'fix' you. Normally I don't take walk-in live patients but..." She moved towards a worn table, picking up a clipboard before reading from it aloud. "Extensive damage to the area. Left clavicle and upper half of the scapular crushed, upper trapezius missing entirely... magical interference in the vis, causing abnormal crystallization of the blood. Nerve signals still function in limb, amputation ill-advised for now."

Wahisietel scowled. This is what he hated about her, always assuming people knew what she was talking about...when she remembered she was talking to a living being and not a rotting corpse. "You're saying words, Calyvorra. What are you talking ab--"

"I can't fix your shoulder." Silence. "Whatever attacked you, it did more damage than I have the capabilities of healing. I tried, Legatus."

Had he heard her correctly? What was this about his shoulder? Looking down at the bandages, he made the mistake of tearing them off, the sight underneath nearly making him ill. The expanse of flesh was basically gone, the crevasse filled like a geode with crystalized blood. He tried to lift his arm; only managing a few inches off the bed before the electric shocks came back, making him audibly whimper.

"I don't recommend moving it. I salvaged what I could, but there's not much left. I wouldn't recommend trying to heal it with your energy, your stores are too low as is. I could barely sense you when you came in, I'm assuming you tried to heal it when it was still fresh."

"Will it heal over time? I can't live like this! I'm a soldier, I need my arm." He was raising his voice, enough to make bottles of gods know what rattle on the shelves. Calyvorra simply shook her head.

"It won't. I'm sorry Legatus, but you will never be able to use your arm again. The pain may go away with time, and you may get grip strength back, but you will never have 100% of your mobility back. From a medical standpoint... I'm going to take a guess and say it will cap at about 30% function. I'm sorry."

[billiedeanhwrd]

when i fell you were there, with your hands in the air

cordelia goode x fem!reader

summary: your depression is hitting you harder than most days, cordelia comforts you 🤍

warnings: depression, slight mention of childhood trauma, it's angsty mental health fluff basically

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic and i'm very very nervous about it, so pls don't be too harsh, constructive criticism is very much welcome though!! also i'm sorry about any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language. i also have to add that this was very much self indulgent and based on my own experience with depression, so if you don't relate, that's fine, everyone experiences it differently. I hope you enjoy it tho, have fun reading <3

today was one of those days again. one of those days where everything seemed grey and pointless. one of those days where taking a shower was too exhausting. one of those days where it didn't matter if you left your clothes on the floor or a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. one of those days where you isolated yourself. one of those days that seemed to return to you every morning for almost 3 weeks now.

you had been struggling with depression for years now and attending therapy regularly still didn't take away from the embarrassment you felt about your illness. cordelia didn't know, you didn't want to burden her with your subjectively "silly" problems. It wasn't easy hiding something so life consuming from your lover, but whenever you were with her you felt as though you could reach for the stars and there was no point in ruining happy moments with sad stories.

Whenever you felt really depressed and unable to function, you isolated yourself. Cordelia and you had been together for 7 months now and the first time she thought she had done something wrong which had resulted in you needing space from her, but when she confronted you, you reassured her that sometimes you needed some time to yourself because you were a more introverted person. While that might be true, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you into her arms and tell you everything was going to be okay again, but the fear of possibly burdening the already very busy supreme held you back from confessing what was weighing you down.

you were used to this already, you always kept your darkness to yourself, too afraid of being too much or being abandoned by your loved ones, while the rational side of you knew that the people in your life who truly meant something to you would never abandon you because of your chronic depression, anxiety left no room for rationality.

you were always feeling kind of down, but some days it was easier to cope and enjoy your day despite that... and then there were those phases where you felt unusually down, those phases that caused you to isolate yourself and wait for the storm to pass in solitude. They usually lasted only a few days or maximum a week, but this one had been going on for much longer. cordelia was worried, you had never needed so much "alone time to recharge your social battery", but she didn't want to overstep your boundaries and possibly push you away, because what you weren't aware of was that cordelia too struggled with abandonment issues and fearing she would be "too much" (which she could never be for you, you adored every single second you could spend in the blonde witch's presence).

After leaving multiple text messages and trying to call you, only to be greeted by your voicemail, cordelia took it upon herself to see what was going on with you. The knocking on your door would've usually startled you, but you had just ordered a pizza, too tired to prepare a meal yourself and assumed the delivery was faster than they had stated on their website. your jaw fell open and the door was quickly closed again, shit shit shit, what am i supposed to do now? the place looks like a mess, i can't let cordelia se-

"y/n can you open the door please?" she asked in her gentle voice. "Uh, yeah, give me a second" you replied, hastily throwing on a hoodie that had been lying around on your couch, coincidentally that hoodie being one you stole from cordelia a few weeks ago, something that made your girlfriend's heart warm up a little and relieve her of some of the worried thoughts she had that this might be your way of signaling to her that you no longer wished to be in a relationship with her.

"can we talk? i haven't seen you in three weeks and you haven't answered any of my texts... what's going on? you know you can talk to me about anything..."

"uhm, yes, of course. sit down, make yourself at home, would you like anything to drink?"

"no, thank you, i just want to talk to you"

you didn't have the energy to lie to the woman who held your heart in her hands anymore, you were terrified of her reaction, not only to you being mentally ill but also to you hiding it for so long.

"i'm so sorry delia, please don't be mad", you anxiously stuttered out. cordelia grabbed your hand and smiled reassuringly, signaling for you to continue talking.

"I didn't tell you before because i know you've already got so much going on with the academy and i didn't want to pile onto that with my irrelevant issues... I was diagnosed with depression amongst other things a few years ago, it's something i have to deal with every day and some days are easier than others, but sometimes it all comes crashing down on me and i feel like i'm lost in an ocean of a sadness so powerful, i can feel the pain on my body. I know it can be challenging to be close to someone with severe mental issues and I understand if you don't want to continue being with me, i would never want you to stay with me because you pity me or because you're afraid i'd do something to myself if you'd left, you're not responsible for my feelings or actions and i would never want to impose you with such a burden and-"

you stopped rambling when you noticed the tears flowing down cordelia's cheeks.

your eyes widened and your heart started pounding rapidly in your chest. "i'm sorry, was that too much?"

"no, no, no, no, no... it just pains me to know that you've been dealing with this on your own for such a long time because you don't value yourself enough to believe that other people might want to support you through your everyday battles. y/n, i know you, you're the girl who's always there when someone else needs a shoulder to cry on, anytime, anyplace, you always go out of your way to make others feel seen and accepted, why would you ever think that you don't deserve the kindness you so openly give to others?"

now it was you who was crying, cordelia was right, you didn't value yourself enough to believe that. you didn't actively think of yourself as less than others but that thought always unconsciously motivated the way you dealt with the things that were bothering you.

cordelia patted her lap, signaling for you to sit on her lap and come into her arms. you hesitated though, you weren't used to being so vulnerable and open with your emotions and it scared the shit out of you. you feared cordelia was possibly annoyed at you and was only doing this to get it over with and then get out. she watched you, while you were anxiously deciding what your next move would be, her heart broke for you, you looked like a scared baby dear when all she wanted to do was to comfort you.

"baby, look at me"

her chocolate colored eyes were so full of love, simply looking into them managed to get your heart rate down.

"it's okay, i'm not mad at you for talking about your feelings and all i want to do right now is to hug some of your pain away, so please, let me hold you"

you melted at her gentle words and understanding nature, cordelia was an incredibly smart woman, who went through traumatic things herself and even from that little information you shared, she understood you. she saw her younger self in you, so incredibly lonely but oh, so scared of being vulnerable with another person, due to the emotional abuse her mother subjected her to, and while she might not have gone through the same things you did, she felt like she understood your feelings in this exact moment and she wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe with her.

you slowly crawled into her lap, still afraid this was all a trick to hurt you, but when she started combing through your hair and reassuringly whispering "i've got you" and "you're here with me, i promise you, you're safe", you relaxed into her arms.

after about half an hour of laying there with each other, calming down and enjoying the other one's warmth, you spoke up.

"delia?"

"yes, my love?"

"so you're not leaving me?", you hesitantly asked.

cordelia sat up and looked straight in your eyes while asking "would you leave someone you love because they're depressed?"

"no, never"

"then tell me, sweetheart, why would i leave you?"

her response left you speechless, you almost missed her confessing her love. "you love me?"

she hugged you tight and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "more than anything, and please, never worry about telling me about what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, no matter what it is, i wanna know, okay?"

you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding and confidently replied "okay"

a few minutes passed before you spoke up again when you remembered you didn't say those 3 special words back.

"i love you too, by the way"

cordelia smiled lovingly and stood up to reach out for your hand and pull you up. "i know, now let's go to bed, we can clean up this place tomorrow"

you accepted her helping hand and engulfed her in a hug. the way she so naturally used the word "we" and didn't seem to mind helping you clean up your mess of an apartment made you more emotional than you'd like to admit.

And while you knew this would not be the last time you were overwhelmed by your depression, you now knew that you could count on the woman who loved you to stand by your side and help you get through even your hardest day.

[maplecornia]

chapter 28

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.13K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: Jin looks kind of like a vampire in my banner ngl

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags:@kookaine |@fangirl125reader |@kookiebbyxx |@taradevonne |@rae-bear |@mangminnie |@pixiekooo

What does he know?

You find yourself spacing out as you stand at the printer, waiting for Namjoon's schedule.

Just when you thought you had found some normalcy to your already chaotic life, you find yourself here. Biting your bottom lip, you groan, falling on top of the printer, the warmth as it sparks to life easing you even if it's for a little while.

"Why me?" you murmur, your brow furrowed and eyes glistening with helpless emotion. "Why now?"

What happened to the auditions you had sent before? In a time where you believed that you could achieve your dream without anything or anyone else holding you back. Were you not good enough then?

What makes you good enough now?

Groaning, you slide off the printer and run your hands through your hair. Your neat look has been thoroughly rumpled, just like your day, and you wonder if there will ever be a time where you're allowed to breathe.

Where you're welcome to let go.

With the small slip of paper sliding out of the printer, you grab it and turn swiftly around, ready to take it to Namjoon.

If only life were easier.

With a sharp cry, you bump into a couple of people walking by, and scalding hot liquid splatters between the two of you. A bitter, almost pitch black liquid soils your shirt and destroys the schedule you hold in your hands.

Coffee? Again?

Sighing, You wipe some of the drops off your face before glancing up to see if the pair is all right.

It's two girls and from the looks of it, they seem to be staff themselves, perhaps working on the publications team. You try to catch a glimpse of their badges, but they're moving too much and you can't get a good enough look.

However, you're able to catch a glimpse of their features perfectly fine. One of them is tall, with a soft tan to her smooth skin, and darker features. She has obsidian eyes that glitter when the light catches them and a square jawline that matches her demanding aura. Her hair is long and straight but looks soft to the touch. She doesn't wear many expressions on her face, however, and looks to be a bit standoffish. She would be hard to get close to.

The second one is the one who was carrying the coffee and though her face is pulled into one of disgust, you can tell that she's gorgeous. She has soft honeydew skin and almond butter eyes. Her face is perfectly symmetrical, and her lips full and glossy. Her eyes are large and wide, a deep brown color, with long dark eyelashes brushing against her cheek each time she blinks. They would otherwise be beautiful if they didn't sparkle with hatred and malice.

After a moment, you recognize what you've done; panic rising in your throat, you scramble to do something. You quickly reach for your emergency towels, but you've left your satchel in your small office. Cursing silently underneath your breath, you reach down to pick up the discarded cup and help her as best as you can.

"I'm sorry I--"

"Watch out will you?!"

Stunned, you step back, not sure what to do. It's been a while since you've been yelled at like that. A while since you've felt that shock. Swallowing hard, you shake it off and proceed to pick up the cup, keeping your distance.

Maybe it's better to just leave her alone.

"Wait..." at the sound of her voice, you look up, rather disinterested. "Who are you?"

Rolling your eyes, you turn to the trash can. You can't believe you expected an apology. Her friend, the one who was helping her clean up, peers at you before nudging her.

"She's who we were talking about, remember? Jaejin's replacement."

At the mention of your friend's name, your ears perk, and you drop the coffee cup in the trash can. Just what have they been saying about you two? Biting the inside of your cheek in annoyance, you turn around, facing them head-on.

"Oh!" The coffee girl's eyes widen. She looks you up and down as though inspecting a piece of meat. Her lip curls as she turns to her friends, eyes darkening with disgust. "Why didn't they ask one of us? She's hardly experienced."

You raise an eyebrow. Do they think you can't hear them? The dark beauty shrugs, her black eyes dull with disinterest.

"I heard she knows Jaejin. He gave her the post."

You try to be angry, you try to deny the accusations...but they aren't wrong.

Somehow, that makes it worse.

"Who is she, a colonizer?!" Ms. Coffee scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. You try not to flinch, but you can't control it. You swallow hard, curling your hands into fists at your sides.

"Besides, isn't Jaejin dating Mijeong?"

Your breath stops as you hear the words, the same words Sunoh said when you met him. The same words which remind you of everything you have lost.

If they continue to speak, you don't listen, you can't hear them. The roar starts in your ears as your blood rushes to your head, and spots cloud your vision. You can't see, you can't think, you can't function.

Why is it still so hard?

Why can't you let go?

You feel yourself begin to sway as the room swirls into fragments of time and space, and you lose sight of where and who you are.

The only thing left is pain.

Always pain.

"Who says he isn't?" The hand wrapping itself securely around your shoulder, the soft calming voice at your ear, brings you back to reality and you're able to breathe again.

"Jojo?" The tall dark beauty's eyes widen and she steps back a bit. It seems as though she's started a fight she won't be able to finish. Jojo narrows her eyes, her hand tightening around your shoulder as she pulls you behind her in a protective gesture.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing." Miss Coffee quickly intervenes, sending a wide smile your way. One that somehow comes across as menacing, matching the anger in her eyes. "Just a careless newbie is all."

Her voice is dripping with sarcasm and her friend beside her pinches her in her side, whispering something incomprehensible in her ear. The Coffee Girl shakes her off, growing furious by the second. You narrow your eyes her way. This has to be more than a stupid coffee spill, but what could she possibly have against you?

"Come on, Jojo. She's the one in the wrong. If it were any one of us, you wouldn't give a second look." She snarls before turning to you and reaching around Jojo to push you backward.

"Ya!" Jojo cries out in surprise, stepping in front of you, but not before the damage is done. Caught off guard, you stumble back into the printer. Her friend gasps, and steps back. You wonder if she's considering removing herself from the equation. Pulling yourself up, you glare at her before stepping forward.

"What's your problem?" you hiss, your hands clenching at your side to try and contain your anger. Jojo steps in front of you once more, just in case you decide to start swinging some punches. Frustrated, you push her aside. It's not like you're going to do anything. Jojo sends you a sideways glance, but you ignore her, focusing on the target in front of you. “What are you, a child?”

"Did you hear something?" The girl smirks, nudging her friend beside her who swallows nervously. You don't know why, but that only makes you angrier, and you consider stepping across Jojo to smack some sense into her. Instead, you deepen your glare and roll your eyes.

"Pathetic..."

Are you wrong? She's acting like a child. So naturally, your snide comment doesn't sit well with her. Eyes widening in anger, she raises her hand to slap you across the cheek, and you flinch.

But the strike never comes.

Opening your eyes slowly, you turn to find someone has come in between the two of you, hand wrapped tightly around the girls. You look to Jojo, half expecting the source to be her...but it's not. Her eyes are wide and she seems to have frozen.

So then who?

"Now now." Your eyes widen at the voice and your heart starts pounding hard in your ears as he steps in front of you, shielding you. The girl stares up at him with shameful fear, as though her entire world has just been shattered. "You should really watch your temper."

He drops her hand and she steps back, her friend catching her from behind.

"You never know who might be watching."

He gestures to the room, at the groups of people watching, whispering to each other. They don't hide their interest, nor their disgust as they send looks towards the girl.

Satisfied, he turns to you, a reassuring smile breaking out on his face. The same face known and cherished worldwide. Up close, it's even more unreal.

Kim Seokjin.

"As you said, Yen is new, and when you were first starting out, you made way more mistakes believe me." Jojo snaps, her eyes glittering with anger as she turns to Coffee. She steps forward, leaning beside her ear.

"I would be careful who you make an enemy, sweetheart." She whispers harshly, loud enough for anyone close to the two of them to hear. "Namjoon quite likes his assistant, wonder what he'd do if something happened to her."

Though the threat wasn't directly said, it's clear what Jojo meant and as she pulls back, smiling sweetly; the girl's pale face tells you that she clearly understood.

"Is that all then?" Jin says from beside you, causing you to jump. When did he get so close? The girl glances at the two of you and seems to grow furious at the sight. Her pale face quickly flushes with anger and she scowls before storming away, ramming her shoulder violently into yours before she goes; her friend scuttling after her.

"Ya!" Jojo calls, but the girl is already gone, and you don't mind. Scoffing, she shakes her head before turning to you. "So immature...what are we kids?"

You don't respond, instead, you turn away from the pair of them, finding your printed schedule discarded and drenched on the ground. Sighing, you pick it up, holding it gingerly in your hands.

Everything soiled.

"Now I have to start all over."

Behind you, Jojo and Jin give each other a look before Jojo kneels beside you and places her hand on your shoulder. When you don't look at her right away, she peers into your face and you turn to her, your face blank.

"Yen, are you alright?" you nod before pulling away, throwing the schedule in the trash can.

"I'm fine."

Jojo sighs before standing as well.

"Why didn't you stop them?" you pause at the question.

Why didn't you stop them? You're not sure you know yourself. You wanted to, you wanted to fight back...

But you have no fight left.

Sighing, you shake off the feeling of despondency before turning to her and smiling weakly.

"Were they wrong?" Jin furrows his brow in concern at the phrase. He tries to read your expression, understand what's wrong but it's near impossible. You've closed yourself off to everyone around you, and while you try to act tough, you're afraid. Sighing you turn away from them, unable to handle the pitying looks. "Besides, I don't have to answer to them."

I don't have to answer to anybody.

After a moment, Jin walks to your side and places his hand gently on your shoulder. Surprised, you flinch away from his grasp, but it doesn't phase him. He looks down at you with a somber expression before noticing your drenched shirt. You follow his gaze and the heat of embarrassment floods your cheeks. You quickly fold your arms across the stain, acting as though it doesn't exist. He smirks a little at the attempt.

Now she...she's interesting.

"Jojo?" He calls, still staring at you, and you narrow your eyes.

What is he expecting, a cookie?

"Would you mind printing out the schedule for Ms..." His eyes search for your badge before he locates it and takes it, reading your name. "...Lin today?"

Jojo nods but looks towards him a bit perplexed.

"Sure...but what are you planning to do?"

Smiling he twirls your ID in his hand before you snatch it away from him which only makes his smile grow wider. Taking your hand, he turns and pulls you behind him, Jojo staring at the two of you in shock.

"I'm going to help her change."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: another BTS member encounter! and yes, it's the cliche stop of the slap, shut up 🙄

chapter 29 here

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