#And I mean I guess I would like to get diagnosed if I have it so I can treat it and get better? but I hate setting up appointments

[balkanradfem]

Okay so I know I just hit you all with the controversial chestnut poll, but I have some new development in life that I want to complain about, and in order for me to complain about it, I need to give you the context.

I don't particularly want to give you the context. You're going to diagnose me with female socialization, and some of you will feel the urge to click the anonymous ask button and tell me off. Today I need you to fight that urge! I am feeling insecure, I am feeling lost, I'm not certain in my choices, I've acted without thinking, and got myself into a situation I can't control. So please don't be mean to me. I deserve to complain on the internet and not be called out, alright?

So this is the story of how I accidentally became a live-in caretaker for an injured, elderly woman. It's temporary! She'll get better, hopefully.

I worked for her occasionally, and she's always been kind to me. She would give me a little jar of jam sometimes, and I love little jars of jam, it's a way to win my heart. A few days ago, she called me in a panic, telling me she fell, and she needs my help. I came over, and found out she broke her arm in two places, and one of her rib is broken. She fell unconscious, after being dizzy all day, and fell on a big metal lantern, breaking it. She was now in so much pain she couldn't get up by herself, dress herself, or do any kind of household tasks. She went to the ER, got her arm wrapped up, and was trying to get a pain injection. I helped her get trough the day, and promised to come early next morning, to help her up from the bed.

Next day I found her in tears in her bed, unable to get up, desperate to go to the bathroom. It became clear she needed 24/7 assistance, and she asked me if I would move in until she got better. I said yes without thinking, because I was at this point, severely concerned, and wanted to do anything to help her out.

So this is all not so bad, right, I'm being normal, it's normal to offer help to an injured elderly woman who is nice, but there's a catch. She doesn't live alone. She lives with her older husband. Who is also disabled and can't help her at all. So in order to help her out.. I had to move into a place where a male lives. That is the worst part of this.

I'm still in the first few days of living like this, and my own life had to fall to the background. I can't go foraging for chestnuts every day, I can't go to my garden as much, I'm still going to work, just from her place. I'm overwhelmed and struggling to get used to the new situation. I'm not used to being around people at all, and now I'm forced to socialize almost all day. Caring for someone comes fairly natural! I'm already so in sync with her, she can just look in the certain direction and I know what she wants me to do. I've figured out where everything is in her kitchen, closet, and basement. She's pleased that I know how to do basic household tasks, and am willing to do it in her way. And she's nice, she's telling me things like 'thank you' and 'what would I do without you', which feels good. But I am very exhausted and sleep deprived, she wakes me up at 1am, and then 5am again, and I'm unable to fall back asleep in a room I lack familiarity with. I miss my room.

She and her husband said they were going to pay me, and in my natural ways, I said something like 'no you don't need to' which I feel like everyone will get mad at me for, but they did insist they would pay me anyway. I as usual lack the sense to care about money – someone's arm is broken, that's way more serious issue to me!

Alright so now to the part of the post I wanted to write, a fun poll where you guess, what has her awful husband done by this point :) go ahead and guess!

You have one day to guess! Which one of these scenarios happened in the first few days of his wife breaking three bones in her body. I'll tell you the correct option tomorrow!

[theygender]

This has been on my mind for weeks and I talked to my therapist about it today and told my girlfriend about it too so now it's time for me to update the gay people in my phone: I may have schizotypal personality disorder

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[silverislander]

forgot to mention but my therapist is literally encouraging me to get adhd testing :') she really did believe me and still does, and i'm not just losing it i (almost definitely) have A Disorder holy fuck

[mrfoox]

Just remembered how after my autistic diagnose every offical person was so careful to approach me about it at first. I know that's probably standard bc not everyone will like those news or know how to handle it but I legit just had doctors go 'hey... So... Are you okay? How do you feel?' and I was like 'haha, nice, so I haven't just been faking/now I know why I'm so different'

[distantwave]

[sovamurka]

suddenly realised that i don't have any of my epilepsy medication left, fuck

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[deadmomjokes]

Me during pregnancy: odd how they say the baby sleeps when you move and wiggles mostly when you're still, this kid literally never stops moving. Literally. Even when they fall asleep, they still twitch and wiggle. Wonder if that's normal....

Me with newborn: Huh. She really doesn't stop moving. Even while sleeping. But also she kind of never sleeps, I thought newborns needed, like, 20 hours of sleep. We're doing everything right, why isn't she sleeping? And if she needs that much sleep, why is she fine with not getting it? And she really wants more stimulation and interaction than they said was good and normal for a baby her age. Her favorite place to sleep is a busy mall. Wonder if that's normal....

Me with ambulatory infant: Oh my heck she's going to kill herself would you please stop climbing things how did you even get UP THERE, you don't even have kneecaps yet! She hasn't stopped moving since the day she was born. Is this normal? I wonder if that's normal....

Me with toddler: I mean, being still is really unintuitive when you think about it. So what if she's doing hand-stands and flips on the couch while she asks me about how computers work? That's just how it goes, I guess. She'll probably grow out of it. Pretty sure that's normal....

Me with small child: Yeah, she's pretty wiggly and her brain never stops going and she climbs on everything and she talks all the time and she forgets where her shoes are but remembers the details of a conversation we had once about a very complex topic, but that's just how she is. I mean, look at me, I'm the same way, always have been. I'm pretty sure by now that it's all perfectly norm---

*sees child existing next to her preschool classmates*

Oh?

*sees child existing next to babies half her age*

Oh.

*gets diagnosed with ADHD at age 30*

OHHHHHH

[0xo]

i would like to remind everyone that most disabilities come with comorbidities. what this means is that, most of the time, someone who is disabled does not have just *one* condition that causes them pain or difficulty.

for example, i have crohn's, which is an autoimmune disease primarily affecting the bowels. i also have ehlers-danlos syndrome(eds), which is a connective tissue disorder. eds can make crohn's worse because eds can affect your intestinal lining. crohn's can make eds worse because crohn's can also affect joint inflammation, so loose joints become more inflamed than they otherwise would. both can severely affect fatigue levels.

these are just two things i deal with. there are other comorbidities and complications i deal with, like fibromyalgia, dysautonomia, nerve damage, and more; but eds and crohn's are the easiest to explain how they play off each other.

i don't think abled people realize that most disabled people deal with something like this. i see disabled people online being very open about their multiple diagnoses to raise awareness and understanding - and then i see abled people shitting on them because "there's no way you can have that many things wrong with you."

but this is the truth of the situation: being disabled is almost never a straightforward, one-and-done diagnosis thing. even if it starts as one diagnosis, many people discover or develop other problems as their health changes. or even develop other issues because of medications! the intravenous medication i took for crohn's causes arthritis in a significant number of patients, and is most likely responsible for just how severe my joint inflammation gets.

so if you're abled, and you've ever seen a long diagnosis list and thought maybe someone was exaggerating - please step back and rethink. this is a very common thing. i would dare to guess that more people are multi-diagnosis than single-diagnosis. you are not helping anyone by accusing someone of faking or exaggerating, you are just being ableist.

as a disabled person, it takes immense bravery to speak openly and publicly about how our lives are affected by our disabilities, and we do not deserve to be treated poorly for being honest about our realities. your lack of knowledge or willingness to learn should not become our additional pain.

[copperbadge]

I was diagnosed with depression when I was seventeen, the "this will probably keep happening your whole life" kind of depression, but aside from some really rough moments in my mid-twenties I coped pretty well; by the time I was living in Chicago I could see a depressive episode coming and I had techniques to ensure I got through -- kept going to work, kept making and eating food, kept myself and my home clean.

By the time I went in for my ADHD assessment I hadn't had an episode in a couple of years, and when I had they weren't particularly severe. So when I got the ADHD diagnosis and started studying what that meant, it seemed evident to me that what I'd been experiencing wasn't depression but rather exhaustion from unrecognized burnout. Which was a good thing -- it meant that with medication it probably wouldn't happen much or if it did it would be very mild.

But it turns out that clinical depression and ADHD can coexist! All discovery is useful, but this one was a real pain in the ass.

For the last couple of weeks I haven't had a ton of energy for doing anything, in a way that I recognize from previous episodes. The coping mechanisms did kick in; I pulled way back on chores and hobbies, focused on keeping caught-up with my job, made sure I was doing the minimum level of cleaning and didn't worry too much that I wasn't doing more. Looked after the cats, made time and saved energy for socializing. Didn't have much energy for longform writing but I had enough focus to work on short stories, so I messed around with those.

I'm okay in the specific way where I'm not a harm to myself or others and perfectly competent to run my own life, I'm just not real happy about any of it.

The longer I go managing my mental health and the ADHD, the more important the "show jumper" metaphor I came up with has become for me. Because yeah, firing on all cylinders and with Adderall I can basically do any task I aim myself at -- but with depression, even with the medication, it pulls backwards into "Okay, well, I guess put the horse over the jumps it'll take, not the ones you want it to take."

But I've been maintaining decently and this morning it turned out I wanted to cook a bunch of food, so even though what I really need to be doing is mopping the floor and vacuuming the rugs, I'll take "cooking enough pizza sauce to drown a small animal while boiling some pasta" and "making a nice loaf of beer bread". And hopefully the burst of energy means it's resolving itself, and the floors will get done sometime this week when I don't have to be baking bread or making pasta salad.

I'm very carefully saving my second daily Adderall dose until I'm ready to do the massive stack of dishes the cooking led to. Gonna take this horse over the goddamn dishes jump whether it likes it or not.

[headspace-hotel]

How am I going to work for a living when being around other people, moving between different environments and expectations, or being exposed to noise for more than 3-4 hours a day makes me so exhausted it's challenging to perform basic self-care tasks, and pushing past that makes this condition worse, and doing that frequently creates long-term spillover that impairs my functioning for a much longer period

The psychologist who diagnosed me with autism insisted that I could become desensitized to noise through exposure, but it's been almost 10 years and I've never been able to increase my tolerance to stimuli even temporarily, only dramatically decrease it through, I guess, the cumulative effect of exhaustion.

The last semester in school I was having anxiety attacks every single day the first week, and from there I just...limped. I never got to the point where I felt okay and could think beyond just surviving the next day.

I would go to work and basically just, screw around hoping I wasn't in the way too much, because I could not move myself to think on the level of problem-solving and work on projects I wanted to accomplish, I was just too exhausted. I didn't meet any new friends. I didn't go to a single non-required event, even though I wanted to. My mom would ask me if I was enjoying my classes and I would be like..."I don't know." I was often too tired even to play Minecraft.

And I didn't read or write any fiction, even though my love of doing so used to be the fundamental part of my identity.

I kept getting extremely dehydrated and having scary symptoms and being unable to figure out what was wrong. I remember feeling certain that I was starting to get sick/run a fever at many different points throughout the semester, and then I would keep going and feel like 10% better and after a few days it would be clear that I wasn't sick and I wasn't going to become sick nor would I get significantly better quickly. I was sleeping a LOT—like I would be too tired to stay awake by 11:30pm, which is seriously unusual for me and usually means I'm getting sick, and yet I overslept my classes more times than I could count. I felt sure I had some sort of infection or something for the last couple weeks, and then when I came home for the holidays, everything just... cleared up. Still not sure if it was the dehydration or what.

Also, my menstrual period went irregular again??

[gg-neptune]

Late Date

A/N: Okay so lemme rant rq. I just got diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue, right? Now I am getting a flare up from the combination of the new medicines from my messed up genetics. So if I don't post I am sorry. Currently can't move without being in pain. Anyways I hope you enjoyyyy :))))) Trying my best to keep him in character but it's so hard bc like we never see him in this light.

Sum: Sev is late

Pair: Severus x reader

Word: 2.0k

“Class Dismissed,” Snape grumbled to the class. His nose was pinched in between his fingers. Longbottom had melted another one of his cauldrons today. It was a careless mistake that could have been avoided if the young boy had just been paying more attention. Now there was a gooey mess all over his classroom.

As the students filtered out, Snape sighed. His day had been going well. He had been awoken to the sweetest of sounds—the sound of his love telling him it was morning. There was fresh fruit in the great hall for breakfast. All of his classes had gone well, with only a handful of disrespectful students that had shut up when he took house points and threatened detention. He had even been able to actually take his lunch break instead of working through it. Of course, it was his last class. He was going to be late if he didn’t clean this up immediately. Even if he did, would he be able to make it anyway?

"Hey, Hon-oh.”

Snape’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You were standing in the doorway to his class room. Your eyes were wide in astonishment at the mess that lay before you. The multicolored goopy liquid had now made its way to the middle of the classroom. 

His dark eyes met yours. He wanted nothing more than to just leave the classroom and deal with this later. He knew he couldn’t; it was against policy. You could have students fight Voldemort and almost die on campus, though that was fine.

“Hey, everything is alright,” Severus asked. His voice was laced with worry. He could tell by your expression that you were curious or worried about something before you had seen the mess in his room.

"Well, I was wondering what you would want me to wear tonight, but now I am guessing it’s off for tonight.” Your sad eyes looked at him. He could tell you were disappointed. Not at him, but just that idea. He knew you had been looking forward to this for weeks now. It had been so long since they had been able to go out. He wanted to treat you tonight. Spend the night with just you. For so long, he knew you both had been craving to not have to worry about anyone else and just worry about each other.

“No, I’ll find a way to get everything taken care of before then; don’t worry about it. Also, wear what you want; you know I love you in anything you wear.” By now, the man had managed to maneuver his way to you. Careful to avoid all of the goo, he pulled you into his arms and sighed. 

“Longbottom melted my cauldron again. But this time I don’t know how because none of the ingredients should have reacted like that. So that means he got the wrong one.” Snape leaned his head on top of yours, mumbling about the carelessness of the boy.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to Sev. You know he’s a bit... spacey at best when he’s in your class. I mean, the poor boy is terrified of you.”

Severus just grumbled in annoyance at that. You were too nice to students. He squeezes you tightly and buries his face in your hair before releasing you.

His eyes raked over you. You were absolutely stunning, even after teaching dunderhead students all day. Your eyes shone with delight. Being held by your dear husband always seemed to have that effect on you, as he noticed. 

“Anything you want me to wear tonight,” he almost grins, teasing you a bit.

“Yes, I want you in a bright pink, tight dress. I will accept no less from you,” you say with a smile, also teasing him before quickly walking off, leaving him with the mess in his room and not being able to respond to your teasing. He grumpily turned back around to face his classroom, glaring at the goo and nursing under his breath.

2 hours later, and it is just now seeming like Scourgify is actually Scourgifying. The majority of the gunk had finally been removed from the floor. What remained of the table Severus had disposed of. While he continued to clean, he came to the conclusion that Neville must have used Bezoar instead of Bat Spleens. Bezoar, when mixed with the rest of the ingredients, creates a reaction. A sticky, messy substance that slowly expands to about 20 times its size. Severus stood back and looked over his floor. This was as good as it was going to get, he decided as he wiped sweat from his forehead. He should have given the boy detention and made him clean up. However, it would have taken him twice, if not three times, as long as it did the professor. If he had been able to do it at all honestly,. 

Snape walked to his office, which was just the next door over, and grabbed his keys. He locked both his classroom and his office doors and cast a spell that would show any student who should even look at them that he was not there and to not even think about trying the door.

Briskly, he walked to his chambers, his long robes billowing behind him, making him resemble a bat. 

Severus’s long legs and tendency to power walk allowed him to reach his chambers pretty quickly. He stepped inside quickly and immediately began to prepare for your guy’s date. Quickly, he stripped down and stepped into the shower, trying to get the grime off of himself. After a quick scrub, he swiftly got dressed in a pair of his nicer-looking robes and finally decided to glance at the time.

Shit. He was late. Really late.

Fastening the last button on his black shirt, he didn’t even bother with putting on the rest of his robes in his rush to get to you. Fumbling with the door, his hands were shaking as he slung it open and took off down the hall, damn near running to Hogsmeade. Hoping and praying that you would still be there. Also hoping and praying a student didn’t see him, though right now this was not a major concern of his. 

He had wanted this night to be perfect for the both of you, and he had already managed to fuck it up somehow. What if you were sitting with another man by now? So mad and disgusted by him, you decided to get the attention you deserved, which he couldn’t give you, from another. He quickly shook that thought from his head as his eyes caught a glimpse of his wedding band. He finally got to the road that led to the little village that you were currently in. Waiting for him.

The man briskly walked, trying to catch his breath; he was not used to running like that. As soon as he got past the magical enchantments that forbade apparition he apparated right outside the Three Broomsticks. For a moment, he stood outside. Trying to catch his breath and calm himself. Smoothing his hands over his shirt and just hoping he looked alright, he entered the little restaurant. He had never been late before. In fact, he was always early, and the man was terrified of how you would react. 

Inside the cozy place, the hostess greeted him politely, asking him if he had a reservation. He already knew where his seat was and where you were supposed to be, so he just ignored the woman and walked in, going straight to the back and looking in the far right corner. The potions master's hands shook with fear. Fear that you will not be there and that he will be greeted with an empty table and an angry wife after he finally locates you.

Fortunately for him, he saw you. Your beautiful face is reading a book in the corner of the booth he had reserved for you. The table was empty, but there were two menus on the table and two waters. From your expression, he could not tell if you were upset or not. Quickly, before you could get upset, he rushed towards you and grabbed your hand as he sat on the same side of the booth as you. Even though you had told him multiple times never to sit on the same side of the booth as each other, he did not care at this moment.

"Dear, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to be late. I was cleaning and it wasn’t coming up and- I promise I didn't forget I am so sorry please what can I do to make it up to you? I am so sorry.” His voice was shaking as he gripped your hand tightly. You were startled by his sudden apology, as you had been engrossed in your book and honestly expected him to be a bit longer. You knew the disastrous attempted potion was going to take him hours to clean up, and since he refused help, he would be late. 

"Severus, it’s fine. I knew you were going to be late. That goop kicked your ass, didn’t it?” you tease him as you take in his appearance. In this moment, as frazzled as he was, he looked rather handsome. His inky black hair was falling in front of his face, and his glossy eyes were filled with tears. His black shirt, which you usually could not see very well because of his robes, framed his body just right. You knew he was terrified you would be mad, but how could you be realistic? It wasn’t like he just blatantly ignored you or was thinking of others.

“You're not mad? I left you waiting here for almost 15 minutes; why are you not mad at me?” He was unbelievably close to you by now. Staring into your eyes, dumbfounded, and looking at your waiting for you to snap at him. Desperately hoping he could make things better. The man had a strong thirst for knowledge, one that he was always trying to fulfill. He did not understand how anyone could love him. How could one feel the same way as he feels? You not being mad at him genuinely puzzled him. Why were you not mad?

“Severus, it’s not like you were just laying in bed blowing me off.”

“But I was late.”

“And you were cleaning up mystery goo, were you not?”

“Yeah, but I was late; you should be mad at me.”

“I’m not, though.”

“But why?” his voice had almost a childlike curiosity in it as he interrogated you as to why you were not mad at him. You stare at him for a moment and think of a response. Should you be mad at the man? He was late, but he had a good reason and was currently on the verge of tears in fear you would be mad at him.

“You apologized to me before I could even realize it was you, and you feel genuinely guilty for it, so even though I was never mad, for your peace of mind, I forgive you. Now go sit on your side and look at the menu. I already know what I want.”

Before he gets up, he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his scent. Immediately, you melt against him and wrap around him as well, relishing in him.

“Did you bring the book because you knew I was going to be late?” he whispers in your ear, still sounding a tad guilty. By now, you had completely forgotten about the book and were just focusing on him.

"Partially, but I also think you’ll like it,” you whisper back to him, giving him a squeeze before releasing him and gazing over his face. The tears from his eyes had vanished now, and he seemed to not be as upset.

The man went to the other side of the booth and took his seat. A small smile finally graced his face as he looked at you. 

He clasped his hands in front of him. "Well, go ahead. Tell me all about it.”

You delve into explaining your book to him. He stared longingly into your eyes as you did so. Happy to have such an understanding partner as you.

[guqqie]

This might be a really awkward question to ask and if it is I am SO SORRY but I just got diagnosed with PCOS yesterday and I’m wondering how you deal with it if that makes sense??? Maybe cope is a better word idk either way any words are GREATLY appreciated tysm :D

NOT AN AWKWARD QUESTION AT ALL!! Let’s talk about this :)

Not sure if you mean deal with as in the diagnosis or the actual symptoms but I will touch on both!

When I got diagnosed the doctor seemed more upset about it than I was. Usually with PCOS (polycystic ovaries syndrome) it means you have a lower fertility rate. Meaning it’s not impossible to carry your own children but it’s very likely there will be complications or even miscarriages. With me, I guess I am lucky I never had that maternal instinct to want to carry my own children, so it wasn’t really a loss for me hearing that. I already decided from a young age that if I was gonna have kids that I would adopt. When I got my diagnosis also I had already accepted it as I suspect I had PCOS for about a year at that point, so it wasn’t a shocker to me and I had already l known.

As for symptoms, sadly I am still figuring out what works to ease mine. Altering my diet has helped, but everyone’s body is different and what helps me may send your symptoms the opposite way. It’s a trial and error thing. I can’t take the hormonal medication to help ease my PCOS, if I could I would. And if you have that as an option take it. I can’t due to there being a history of breast cancer in my family (my mother having lumps removed, my aunt battling it for years and only this year getting the all clear and my mother’s aunt passing from it shortly before I was born). Hormonal treatments can enhance that gene so I would much rather raw dog and find other ways to help my PCOS. One piece of advice I would give is to be patient and kind to yourself. There will be times where it is bad, or you are feeling bad emotionally. But remember this is a thing that also fucks with your hormones, so you will feel intense depression, anxiety etc (maybe you will, i do due to it!). Just give yourself a minute when it gets to that.

I hope this helped, I am not a medical professional so take anything with a grain of salt. I am glad to hear you have a diagnosis and hope that it gets better. You got this! ❤️

[should-be-sleeping]

Tough day today... and friendly reminder that being human is easier when we help each other.

I saw one of our neighbors, an older woman we sometimes talk to in passing, sitting outside of her house. I don't know what exactly made me look twice, but on second glance as we drove by I realized her walker was in the grass. She was otherwise just sitting there, like she had a thousand times before, so it would have been easy to assume she was fine and go on with my life as normal but something told me to go check in on her anyway.

She was not fine. She was the polar opposite of fine. Just diagnosed with terminal cancer not fine. No next of kin not fine. A veteran facing eviction from her house for missing rent while in the hospital not fine. In constant debilitating pain not fine. Only semi-lucid not fine. She was extremely alone not fine.

I thought, at most, she might be bored while unable to pick up her walker not fine. A five minute detour from my day not fine. A help her back into her house and say "see you later!" not fine. Instead I spent the last three hours with her because she was so scared and alone and no one should be alone.

We talked a lot while I was there. She's actually two years younger than my mom (who also has cancer but slightly better luck, I guess). I helped her into her house and got her a drink and we talked about what all is going on with her. None of it was good. I was as reassuring as I could be, but there's only so much of this I can actually help her with.

"Why did you come?" she asked through tears.

"Because you looked like you might need some help."

She called me an angel. I told her I was just doing my best. I told her that kindness should never be rare. That we should all try to make the world just a little bit better than it was.

She offered to pay me but I told her I was just there as a friend. Before today we were basically strangers. No need to repay me with anything other than her company, I assured her. She cried, a lot. I managed not to somehow. Something tells me she had needed to cry long before this but in being Strong she never had the chance to.

She needed to get her mail, which is a long walk when you're disabled because it is not at all handicap accessible (across a parking lot, over a bridge, across a small field). So I helped her get her mail. We stopped every three feet because her pain was so bad, but she was determined to be able to go do this with me and not just send me on an errand. I patiently stayed with her and reminded her, through her apologies, it was fine to take our time: there was a nice breeze and birds were singing. She appreciated this. She loves nature.

Halfway back she said she wanted to go to the pool. To put her feet in the water. She loves water, and has not been able to even see the pool in a month. Neither of us were dressed for swimming, but I took her to the pool anyway. There is a stair leading down to it, meaning she couldn't bring her walker, so I offered her my arm.

We went to the pool. She put her feet in the water and then, with more energy and enthusiasm than I'd seen the whole time, she jumped in. In her fancy dress! She was instantly ten years younger at least, clear and happy, floating in the sun. Dress and all. She grew up with a pool and had been on a swim team.

I sat by the edge of the pool while she swam, keeping her company and also making sure she was okay. When she got tired I took her back home and then had to help her get undressed and redressed. I made sure she felt no shame. Getting out of wet clothes is hard for anyone, let alone someone with like twenty pounds of tumors racking them with constant pain.

She was so fucking happy to have gone swimming.

She is trying to "make everything right" before she goes. Trying to repay her debt to society and her debts in general. She couldn't understand why the corporation that owns our houses wouldn't take her money. She was genuinely distressed -- not to be homeless on her deathbed but to not leave this world with a clean slate. I told her intent matters. She can only do her best.

This company not letting her repay her debt was their fault, not hers.

When I finally needed to go, I told her to let me know any time she needed a hand or just wanted company. She told me she was going to die tonight. I told her I hoped not, so I could see her tomorrow. I offered her a hug, we hugged and she sobbed for a solid ten minutes into my shoulder. I told her she was okay. That it was okay.

When I got home I cried myself, because I could not believe she was going through all of that alone. I cannot even imagine how isolated she must have felt. Once I pulled myself back together I sent her a text reminding her to reach out any time and I'd do my best to come over. Like, any time at all.

I hope she is here tomorrow.

[wayfayrr]

hey uh. if requests r open. would it b possible to request a follow up to that self-aware-twi fic. if not thats ok i just wanted u to know i havent stopped thinking about it since i read it. altered my brain chemistry, touch-starved twilight princess link my beloved, etc etc. ur writing is top-tier <3<3<3

I think the best part about this ask is - I've had this written since early January. I actually wrote part two as a birthday gift for a good friend of mine @glowyskull <33

So this is more just me finally posting it sfbgdfbgdb. it's also funny to think that the twilight fic is my most popular fic now considering how the self aware au really started as just a really guiltily self indulgent fic - something fun to write that I didn't think could get as big as it did on my blog. and I'm glad that you liked it so much <333 whimpery touch starved twilight princess link is just so AUGH love him so

[masterlist]

“Oh you’re finally wakin up then darlin’.”

“...hmm?”

“C’mon darlin’, you can’t have forgotten what happened earlier already? Can you? Your fever - cold isn’t that bad so you can't have…”

Who’s rambling… and why does it sound so familiar?  Wait does that mean - is everything that happened earlier all real then, did link really crawl out of my tv just because he was lonely. Because I left him there, left him all on his own to rot in his own solitude. 

“Link? You - that - everything was real then? All of it?”

“All of it darlin’, from how I got out to how I’m never gonna leave ya.”

“Huh..? I could’ve sworn that you didn’t even mention anything like that…”

“Mhm, well you’re ill and still a little out of it darlin’ so you probably just forgot, you did agree though.” 

It does sound like something that I would agree to, I mean I’m the reason that he’s sentient. It would be cruel of me to throw him to the other wolves, he isn’t from here but besides even that, he isn’t from here. He doesn’t know how this world works, it would be worse than sending a dog to a shelter. It would be his death sentence for certain, and after all that I put him through for a simple pause in playing. The way he’s petting my hair like this though, it’s enough to simply just wash the rest of my worries away, if I could I would spend the rest of my life right here easily.  

“About your illness though, do you have any red potion anywhere?” 

“No, no things like that don’t exist here link and the painkillers I have aren’t worth moving for.” 

“If you’re sure… I’ll go and get them for you the second you change your mind.”    

“You don’t even know where I keep them.” 

His hand paused at that, causing me to let out an involuntary whine. I couldn’t even think to stop it with how it slipped out instantly, which he seemed fond of. Cuddling me closer to his chest and resting his head on top of mine, with what felt like a giant smile on his face. 

“I can look for them, It’s not like I won’t need to learn where everything is now that I’m living with ya… besides I’ve already put you through so much stress when you’re not well.”

“You didn’t mean to link, how could you have known I was sick?”

“...I don’t know - I just - it shouldn’t have been hard to know with how you looked when you opened the game. I’m sorry love I just wasn’t even thinking I just wanted to be out, but I should’ve been more considerate to you.”

With how silent he is in the game you could never have guessed how much he likes to ramble, it’s the second or third time it’s happened since he crawled out of the glas- the glass. Are his bandages holding up, he seems fine but he’s not from here, any infection could be deadly. He wouldn’t even see it coming with how much he’s fawning over my comfort right now. 

“Link?” “Yes, darlin’?”

Oh wow, he - well he’s whipped already. Is it real love or has all that time trapped alone twisted him into this. I’d look into getting him therapy but… if he mentioned the truth then it would be a matter of seconds until he’d be diagnosed with something inaccurate. No one. No one at all would ever believe that a video game character actually broke out of their game - especially not someone like Link falling for an exhausted student like me.

“Are you feeling alright? You have so many cuts and wounds right now.”

“It’s nothing that’s worse than anything else I’ve ever had. They do feel more real though.”

“...real?”

“They feel like real wounds, not something that could be healed away in seconds and they’re just tiny scrapes.”He sounds so giddy as he’s talking about being hurt - it’s unnerving when he starts holding me even tighter when he’s saying it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be getting away from him ever again… if I wanted to. Why shouldn’t I take a chance at having a relationship though. He cares about me - he really does even if it’s unhinged - it would be so nice to come home to him, to be able to spoil him and be spoilt by him. Even being held like this feels so unreal, so impossible that I shouldn’t be here with him. So much so that I want to stay here and fall back asleep without any argument. Didn’t he even say he wanted to be my lover? Why look over a gift too closely?