#I've had brain fog for nearly two weeks

[pezhead]

Displacement~

[sabraeal]

1000 Followers Update!

Due to some super fun chronic health shenanigans, the posting for the 1000 Followers Celebration is being postponed a month! Posting will start on 2/2 with to all the ghost still standing in this room, and continue as previously planned from there. Thank you guys for bearing with me-- I struggled with the idea of even postponing for a week, but it became very clear on Monday that I would not be able to catch up with the schedule unless I took an extended break to recover. Can't wait to show you guys what I've got up my sleeve!

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[sectumsempraaa]

And Now I Do

Pairing: Draco x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

TW: none really, pure fluff

Synopsis: You and Draco have been dating for a few weeks now. When you get a PT job in Hogsmeade, he disapproves of how much time it takes away from being together.

Word count: 2k (almost)

Hello everyone 🤍 This is my first fic ever! I've been reading all your lovely stories, fingers crossed I am half as talented as you all. Sorry if it's long? I'm a thorough gal. Enjoy :)

“Ugh, do you have to?” Draco groans into your neck as he sucks on your skin lightly, giving a gentle tug. You giggle, playfully pushing him away with a hand on his chest.

“Yes, Draco, I have to go to work.” you respond, as he gives you the biggest puppy-love eyes. You shift away from him because you know the longer you look at him, the deeper you’ll be under his spell. You two had just started dating a couple weeks ago and, to your friends’ dismay, very much want to spend every waking moment together. But you had also recently gotten a job in Hogsmeade at a coffee shop to make some money for yourself, since your parents’ vault at Gringotts was not the most… plentiful.

“Why did you get a job anyways? I could think of a thousand other, better, things we could be doing…” his voice trails off as he climbs across the bed and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles, using his other hand to tug you by your shirt closer to him.You hum and shake your head, pulling away and stepping into your shoes next to the door.

“Because if we want to spend the holidays together, I have to be able to afford it.” He gives you a sympathetic look and sighs, dramatically falling backwards onto your bed. A pang of longing hits your chest and has you turning around. “And…” you saunter back to the edge of the bed, climbing up to straddle him. You feel his hands touch your thighs, crawling their way up your skirt. Leaning down, you take his face in your hands, your noses grazing. “All the gifts I want to get you.”

He smirks and sits up, engulfing your lips with his. The kiss becomes deeper with each stolen breath, you feel his hands grab your ass as your arms wrap around his neck. He smiles devilishly and whispers into your mouth, “I still think it’s rubbish.”

—

It’s been a few weeks now, the holidays drawing nearer. Late November at Hogwarts was always your favorite, and now it’s even better with Draco constantly cuddling you and taking any opportunity to wrap you in his Slytherin robes.

You’re in the library working on yet another essay for Charms class when you feel a familiar presence looming over you. You glance up to find Draco with both his hands leaning on the table in front of you, his smile fading quickly when he notices the bags under your eyes.

“Love, you need a break. Please take a break.” He begs as he slides your parchment towards him, forcing you to stop. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Your vision feels delayed, eyes moving around the room, with no sense of time. It could be midnight or five in the morning. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, working endlessly to catch up on school after your shift. You work nearly every day now until 8pm, usually starting assignments and working on them late into the night. It hasn’t become uncommon for you to fall asleep in the library or in an empty classroom.

“I’m fine, really, I just…” your voice fades to a whisper as your eyes start to close. Draco taps a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze to his.

“Sweetheart, someone who forgets to take off their work uniform before diving into hours of homework isn’t fine.” You look down and notice you’re still wearing your apron from the coffee shop, covered in tea and food stains. Sighing, you lift your hands to your face, despite being too tired to be embarrassed.

“That’s it. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore. You’re not going to work tomorrow.” You hear him speak but it sounds so far away through the brain fog in your head.

“Can’t call out…” is all you could get out before your vocal cords give up.

You feel Draco walk behind you and start to untie your apron, resting it on his shoulder as he helps you out of your seat. “Arms, love.” He says as you wrap them around his neck, submitting to his instruction. He picks you up with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. The last thing you remember is snuggling your face against his shoulder and breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne before you drifted off.

—

You wake up the next morning, but not in your room. You recognize the dark green wallpaper instantly as you raise your head off the pillow. You grab Draco’s watch off his nightstand and nearly fall out of bed when you see the time.

“Oh my god, shit, shit, shit,” you curse under your breath, looking around the room frantically to find you’re alone. You grab your apron off the back of his armchair and bolt for the door, trying not to think about how late you are for your Saturday opening shift. You make it to the common room and slam into someone while rounding the corner, yelling in the midst of your rush.

“FUCK, Theo!” you shout as his eyes widen and a boyish laugh comes out of his mouth as he steadies you with his arms on your shoulders.

“Didn’t know the angelic Hufflepuff could curse,” he says while looking down at you. Your face turning red, you blow past him to the common room door. He starts calling after you again but you have no time to listen.

“No need to run, cara mia…” 

—

Entirely out of breath, you sprint your way off school grounds and all the way to Hogsmeade, trying to ignore the mess of hair sitting on top of your head and the racing heart beating in your chest. Right as you approach the door to the shop, you stop suddenly in your path when it opens in front of you, revealing a Draco that looks a little too pleased with himself.

“What… what are you…” you attempt to speak, choking on the dry air as it tries to fill your aching lungs. “Why didn’t you… wake me up?...” you manage to ask with a hand on your chest and the other on your knee.

Draco takes you in his arms, waiting a minute before giving you an explanation. “First, you need to come back down to Earth. Then I’ll explain. Gods, you look-”

“Careful.” You manage to interrupt him before he finishes the thought, throwing an angered glare up at him.

“Rested. Beautiful, and rested.” he says to you gently, enough to make you melt as he tucks a hair behind your ear while you catch your breath. He cups a hand on your cheek and you notice the smirk that hasn’t left his face since he walked out of the shop.

“Something’s up. What did you do?” you ask urgently, looking quickly between him and the shop.

“Why does everyone always assume I’m up to no good?” he jokes, earning him another angry glare from you.

“Maybe you are!” your eyes go a little wide as the volume of your voice surprises you. He takes a step closer to you, eyes narrowing, taking your face in his hands to make you look at him.

“Maybe I can’t stand to see you crumbling before me every night, maybe I’m tired of saying hello to my girlfriend in passing. Maybe I’m selfish and want you all to myself,” his words slow to a halt before giving you a knowing look. “And now I do.”

He lets go of your face, letting you step back with a face full of confusion. Eyebrows furrowed, you grow silent as you notice the shop owner behind the counter through the windows doing the side work you normally do each morning. Draco interrupts your puzzled thoughts by holding up a piece of paper to your face.

“I gave your two weeks.”

“You… what?” Your brain nearly shuts down. This isn’t real.

“Here.” He hands you an envelope, which you hesitate to take. Opening it slowly, your gut tells you that you already know what this is.

“I took your earnings to Gringotts this morning. The cash in your book bag. You can’t be carrying that kind of money around. We opened an account for you.”

“...we?”

“My father might have helped. Not many people can manipulate the bank, love.” You know he’s making playful banter but you’re still working hard to put the pieces together. You stare down at the check, watching a tear fall down to it, marking the paper. You didn’t have to ask about the extra couple of zeros that magically appeared next to what you actually earned.

“Don’t argue with me. You’ll lose. Let me, let us, take care of you. We can and we want to.” he says gently.

You look up from the check and receipts to the boy standing before you. A stern look on his face tells you enough. He’s right. You’re overworked, underpaid, and on the brink of failing classes. And maybe worst of all, you rarely get to spend time together. This isn’t benefiting anyone anymore. You just feel guilty that it took another person to fix it before you.

“Darling, as much as I’m a fan of the dramatics, I am starting to worry your silence is an indication of my quick and impending death.” he jokes, rubbing his chin with his hands.

“Okay.” you whisper.

He grabs a curl laying on your shoulder and twists it around his fingers. “Yeah?”

You smile up at him, quickly stepping onto your tippy toes to kiss him. His arms wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into your sides. Your kiss claims him, the only way you know how to thank him right now. This is your man, your man who provides. When you pull away, he rests his forehead on yours, relieved at your surrender.

“Yeah.” You let out a small laugh as the blush takes over your cheeks. A feeling of pride grows in you as you realize how much you’ve earned this. He took a huge risk in doing this at all, knowing how upset it could have made you.

“Good, because you really had me thinking I was a dead man there for a minute.”

“Mmm, maybe not dead but… a stupefy might have crossed my mind.” He laughs and pulls you in for a tight, warm hug.

You take his hand and lead him away from the shop, down the street towards The Three Broomsticks. He asks where you’re leading him to and, with a bright smile, turn back to him, walking backwards momentarily to face him. Your hand still clutched with his, he swings it back and forth.

“We are, finally, going on a date. And it’s on me. Yeah?” Biting your lip, you lift your eyebrows, waiting for his response. This time, it’s his face that goes crimson as he flips his hair, adjusting the buttons on his jacket to look more presentable.

“Yeah.” He stops and pulls you to him again, lifting and spinning you around this time, a loud laugh escaping your mouth. “Wait until my parents meet my girl. My wonderful, gorgeous, thoughtful, hilarious, and slightly threatening, girl. I can’t think of a more perfect Christmas present.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad, cause I was gonna buy you many, many more.” You kiss his cheek with enough pressure to make him burst into laughter again. He puts you down and looks at you seriously.

“Love, you’re smart enough to know I will beat you in that contest.” He reaches around your neck to untie your apron, letting it fall to the ground, leaving it behind.

 Yeah, he will.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[jae-bummer]

You Found Me

Request: Hey can I get Han or Bang Chan for soulmate AU? Thanks

Prompt:

14) Soulmate AU

Whenever your soulmate sings, you can hear their voice singing in your head.

Pairing: Stray Kids Han x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

"All the problems and lot of things," you sang quietly to yourself. Plopping another t-shirt onto the clean laundry pile, you picked up a pair of socks. "Make me fool nal geopjaengiro mandeureotji."

"Dude," your roommate, Sam coughed, looking up from her own laundry. "Did you just switch languages mid-sentence?"

Blinking up at her, you paused for a moment, trying to block the lyrics scrolling through your mind. "Uh yeah, I think so."

"You think so?" she asked, quirking a brow.

Shaking your head in an attempt to clear the brain fog, you dropped the remaining laundry you were holding. "I'm pretty sure they're Korean?"

"The words? The singer?"

"The soulmate," you nodded.

It had been nearly a month since you had first heard the voice. Normally when a young adult reported that they were hearing voices that weren't their own, it was cause for concern. In this instance, it had been seen as completely normal.

You had finally synced with your soulmate. And man, he was intent on singing.

"Is it always in Korean?" Sam asked.

"Not always," you hummed. "Sometimes it's in English. Occasionally it's babbling nonsense."

Your roommate could only lift her brows in response.

"Don't get me wrong!" you gasped. "It's a great voice. Just a lot of...eh...weird self-expression."

"Have you been trying to figure out who it is?"

"I've been keeping a journal," you nodded. "Songs I've heard and when I hear them."

"Excellent," she whispered, rubbing her hands together. "Get me the journal and my phone. Your girl got some googling to do."

.

"I can buy myself flowers," Han sang, pulling his bag over his shoulder. "Write my name in the saaaand."

"Didn't know what a big Miley fan you were, Hannie," Chan laughed, packing his own bag as the two of them were leaving the studio.

"My soulmate is," Han sighed. "And they've apparently really been going through it."

"Any idea who the lucky guy or gal is?"

"Well, it's not any of you," Han muttered. "So at least there's that."

"I know, Lee Know didn't talk for a week when he found out," Chan grinned.

Han rolled his eyes before laughing. "He sang loudly AT me for days. He just couldn't believe it."

"You guys are soulmates," Chan shrugged. "I guess it's just in a different way."

"Apparently," Han grumbled. "But I don't even know where to start. I've thought about buying a corkboard and red string."

"Conspiracies and detective work aside," Chan sighed. "I think it may be up to them to find you."

"But what if I'm being too discreet!" Han gasped.

"Not a word I would associate with you, mate."

"What makes you think I'm so easily found?" Han grumbled as they finally started to leave the building. "I'm mysterious!"

"Also not a word I would use, but we've literally been on tour for months."

"So maybe we're forced to sing a certain set of songs in a certain order every couple of days! That doesn't mean anything!" Han said, throwing his arms in the air.

"Do you even listen to yourself when you speak?" Chan laughed.

"How do I ever expect them to find me?" Han whined, completely disregarding his older member.

"Something tells me they will," Chan nodded. "And you'll likely be shocked and act like this conversation never happened."

..

"I've got him!" Sam gasped. "Well...kind of."

"What do you mean kind of?" you moaned, flopping on the couch beside them.

"Technically I've got eight options, but it's looking a lot better than almost 8 billion."

"How in the world did you narrow it down to eight options?" you muttered.

"Well," she began. "I took the list of songs you had been writing down, and I assume you noticed, there's a pattern."

"The same twenty or so songs showing up every day for like three months, yeah," you said, shaking your head. "They're going through something."

"Or they're performing concerts."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, lifting your brows.

"Stray Kids. Homie is a member of Stray Kids," Sam smiled matter-of-factly.

Of course, you knew who Stray Kids were. At this point they were 80% of the music that was floating around in your head. You had just assumed your soulmate was a superfan and had inadvertently made you one as well.

You narrowed your eyes, incapable of believing them. "How do you know it's not just a really dedicated person who's been following them to each tour date?"

"Across three continents?" your roommate lifted her brows. "Multiple cities that are hours and hours away from each other?"

"I meaaan," you hummed. "Wealthy people do exist in this world."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "But the much more logical thought is-"

"That my soulmate is a Korean idol?" you coughed. "Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?"

"Well," she grinned again, tapping at their phone excitedly. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

...

Han leaned over the table, attempting to make eye contact with Chan for what had to have been the tenth time. Finally growing impatient with the older member, he started to smack the table.

All seven of his other members instantly turned in his direction, various expressions of curiosity and irritation on their faces.

"They're here," he nearly shrieked.

"Well, that sounded ominous," Felix muttered, turning back to the album he was signing.

"Who's where?" Chan asked, shaking his head. He looked apologetically up at the fan waiting to speak with him.

"My soulmate," Han whispered in a total non-whisper.

Chan furrowed his brows. "How do you know?"

"Every single song they've played during the signing," Han continued. "I've heard it."

"Uhhh..."Chan trailed, his face totally blank. "Yeah, we all have."

"No!" Han gasped, frustrated. "I mean, I've heard it with my own ears, but I've heard it without my ears too."

"Han, look-"

"I hear their voice," Han finally finished. "My own brain and then their voice. It's all very complicated."

Chan smirked. "Didn't I say they would find you?"

"I don't know how," Han muttered.

Rolling his eyes, Chan turned back to face the fan waiting for him.

....

You took a deep breath as you stepped onto the stage. You would be ushered into a seat directly across from every Stray Kids member momentarily, and this thought alone made you feel queasy.

When Sam had prepared a full trip to Korea with tickets for a fan sign event, you had hoped to go in with a better plan than what you two had agreed on. Awkwardly singing in front of every member was the only way she felt like you could narrow down the candidates. After five different heated discussions about it, you finally conceded to her points. Now was the time to suck it up and do the damn thing.

Taking a step forward, a staff member directed you to your first member, Bang Chan. You tried to keep your fluttering heart under control as you took your seat. It was difficult not to daydream about each boy when you had no idea which one would be yours. Smiling shyly at him, you prepared yourself for what you figured would be an inevitable let down.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too!" Chan grinned easily. He began to sign your album before looking up again.

You felt your heart skip a beat as his eyes met yours, but there was nothing beyond that. No spark, no lights, no birds singing Ave Maria.

Swallowing loudly, you launched into what still sounded like a terrible plan.

"Why do I keep getting attracted...jaseok gachi kkeullyeoga," you sang. "I cannot explain this reaction."

"Case 143?" Chan grinned, flipping to the page you had marked in your album. "Stuck in your head today?"

"Yes," you said breathlessly. "Has it been stuck in yours?"

Furrowing his brows, Chan shook his head. "I've actually had a new song we've been working on in my head most of the morning."

"Right," you said, gracefully accepting defeat. "You guys are working on a new album, right?"

"You didn't hear it from me," he smiled.

Nodding politely through the rest of the conversation, you tried to enjoy it as much as you could. You now knew that Chan wasn't your soulmate and that was okay. He was still a wonderful person that was more than worth talking to.

Up next was Felix. Settling into your seat, you could feel your heart begin to soften all over again. Felix was gorgeous and the instant wink he gave you was enough to halt your breathing. This had to be the worst otome game ever.

"I'm Y/N," you nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you!" Felix hummed, busy signing your album. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you," you answered, already prepared to rip off the band aid. "I've had one of your songs stuck in my head all morning."

"Oh yeah? Which one?"

"Why do I keep getting attracted...jaseok gachi kkeullyeoga," you sang a little more confidently. "I cannot explain this reaction."

Felix looked up. His expression was amused but held no sign of recognition. You took a deep sigh before nodding to yourself. At this point, it was almost a relief to get this part over with.

"One, four, three," a voice to the left of Felix sounded both in front of you and independently in your head. "I love you."

Looking over with wide eyes, you made instant eye contact with the singer. Han. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you and judging by his expression, he had felt the same.

"Oh, come on," Felix joked. "You'll have them in front of you in a minute. Don't steal my time with Y/N."

Han, obviously not listening, stood for a moment before sitting back down again. His eyes remained on yours as he reached across the table and took your hands. Slowly pulling you toward the empty seat in front of him, you thought you would burst into tears. The stupid plan had really worked.

"Yah!" Felix gasped, directing a glare at Han. Out of your periphery, you could see Chan smack his arm and shake his head. The leader had easily picked up on what was happening.

"You found me," Han said slowly, lifting his hand to touch your cheek, but halted his fingers from actually making contact. His handsome face was full of a wonder that set your head spinning. He acted like you were a mirage in front of him, something that was too good to be true.

"It took me awhile to figure out where to look," you admitted. It was suddenly difficult to catch your breath. Glancing to Han's still extended hand, you chose to lift your own and lace your fingers together.

Han looked to your entwined hands as if it was a new and exciting discovery. What a novel idea, to hold hands so easily with someone you're meant to be with forever. "Because I'm so mysterious right? And discreet?"

You grinned, feeling a warmth flood your face. "I wouldn't say that, no."

Han grinned as well, completely entranced. "I've heard your voice for weeks, but it sounds so amazing in person."

"Sorry," you said with a wince. "I know I'm not the best singer."

"Neither am I," he laughed.

"Yeah right!"

"Seriously! I would take hearing your voice over mine any day."

"Well," you said quietly. "Now I guess you're stuck hearing it."

"Not stuck," he said, shaking his head vehemently. "Stuck means I don't want to be here. But right now? There is no place I would rather be."

[sunflowersandsapphires]

If the Sun Starts Setting

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: Swearing, family drama, characters celebrating Christmas, mom with terminal illness, crying mentions

a/n: Sorry to post this so late everyone! I have had the WORST brain fog today. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs fuel me!

After just one semester of law school, the drive between suburban Connecticut and the Columbia campus was one you were becoming well-acquainted with. It wasn’t unbearably long, nor flooded with traffic on a dark Sunday evening. Headlights of oncoming vehicles painted swatches of light against the navy sky, a semi-urban work of art unlike anything you’d enjoyed before. Usually, it was a sight you took the time to admire. However, this particular evening you were unable to focus on anything but the tinny voice bubbling out of your phone’s speaker. 

Gritting your teeth and rolling your eyes to the heavens, you cursed the universe for a moment, tuning out the man on the other end of the line while you did so.

The sharp call of your name across the speakers regained your attention. ”Are you listening to me?“

Your father's inflection was grating on the best days. After three weeks spent waiting on him and your two ungrateful siblings while they preached about the importance of family during the holidays, you were ready to scream with every word he spat at you. The two hour drive back to campus was supposed to be the growing light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, you'd spent the last third of it arguing with your father about healthcare charges.

”Yes, I'm listening.“ ‘Unlike some of us’, you thought to yourself. ”As I said, that charge was for her brief hospital stay over Thanksgiving. I've already paid it and it might take a week or two to reflect—“

”This is a debt collection notice, hun. That means they didn't receive the payment yet. Which means they'll be coming after me when your mom inevitably cannot pay.“

Contemplating banging your head against your steering wheel just to remove the memory of this conversation, a flash of movement across the parking lot caught your eye. Expression softening, you almost sobbed in relief when you caught the two beaming expressions of your friends waving from the exterior door. Unfortunately, your father wasn't quite done arguing with you.

”Dad, I understand you don't want to be on the hook for this—“ ‘Not like you would be anyway.’

”I most certainly do not.“ He interrupted. Once again ignoring his rambling, you snatched your backpack and exited your car, slamming the door with a bit more force than usual.

”Dad, just forget about it, ok? I'll deal with it, just—“

”Well, clearly you won't deal with it in a timely fashion, which is why I'm calling...“ ‘Was he trying to kill you? It sure felt like it.’

”Ok, well I just got back to school so I need to go now.“ You tried to nudge him into polite farewells as you practically sprinted across the pavement towards your friends. As expected, he didn't take kindly to being rushed off the phone.

”Of course you do,“ He laughed incredulously. ”You know, this is your mother's livelihood we are discussing. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more compassionate.“ ‘You're one to talk asshole.’

”You're right. I'll try to work on that this semester,“ You remarked drily. ”Gonna go inside now. Bye.“

Not bothering to listen to the screaming that answered your callous goodbye, you hung up, breaking into a strained smile as you greeted your boys. ”Why hello there, strangers.“

As if he didn't just witness you walk literally and figuratively closer to a breakdown, Foggy squealed, nearly taking you to the pavement in a tackling hug. “Welcome back, bug!”

“Christ, Fog, you're gonna crush her.” Matt laughed, hearing you grunt as you fumbled to stay upright with Foggy coiled around you like a boa constrictor.

“I missed you too, Fog.” You murmured, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being embraced.

You had missed them. Deeply and almost pathetically. After an entire semester at each other's sides, the few weeks in your hometown for Christmas had felt like an eternity.

After Matt and Foggy had been struck with the campus flu, the rest of the semester passed in a whirlwind. The two clingy boys had unsurprisingly infected you, meaning you were unfortunately sick for Thanksgiving and had to remain on campus to avoid passing the virus on to your immunosuppressed mother. Matt had been incredibly apologetic, and plagued with his typical Catholic guilt, so he'd stayed with you while Foggy returned to Hell's Kitchen for Turkey Day.

The next few weeks were spent cramming for finals and, eventually, celebrating the end of your first semester at Columbia—which you had all, amazingly, passed. Leaving for the lengthier winter break had been an abrupt end to the joy you felt over your grades, however.

You returned to New Haven a day earlier than expected to sit in the local hospital's oncology ward with your mother. While you were ill over Thanksgiving, she'd had a recurrence of stage 3 pancreatic cancer, which meant more frequent trips to see her doctor as well as numerous bills that neither of you could afford. Because of her declining health, your father and siblings had come to Connecticut for Christmas. The extra company meant that your holidays–which were meant to be a time for recuperation following a strenuous first semester–had been frustrating to the point of tears. Which, embarrassingly enough, Matt had been burdened with when you called him to complain.

The two of you called multiple times a week, exchanging stories and annoyances just like you did when you were living within a few blocks from each other. But it didn't stop you from missing him and Foggy fiercely for 24 excruciating days.

Swallowing a lump of pent up emotion, you huffed out a shaky exhale, your breath clouding in the frigid winter air. “Ok, Fog. You know I love you, but it's cold as fuck out here.”

“Right! Sorry.” Foggy withdrew from the embrace, blushing furiously as he scratched at the back of his neck.

Immediately replacing Foggy in front of you, Matt took a chance to hug you quickly before pulling you inside. “Glad you're finally here, I thought Nelson here was going to combust.”

Letting Matt usher you inside, you heard Foggy's baffled scoff. “Do I look like a patient man to you, Murdock?”

Matt smirked, “How would I know?”

You and Foggy both groaned loudly, looking to each other for support as Matt cackled. “C'mon, you set that one up perfectly. What's a guy to do?”

“You should've heard him over break, bug. He was driving my poor mother towards a stroke, I swear.” Foggy shook his head in feigned irritation.

“Oh please, she loved me.” Matt shoved his roommate, nearly bowling the three of you down the staircase as you trudged toward their room.

“I bet she did.” You snorted, “You probably dialed the charm up to 11.”

“Try 15.” Foggy remarked, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

Ignoring the jab, Matt held out a hand for your bag, allowing you to slip out of your coat and shoes.

“Who were you on the phone with?” His question was meant to open the can of worms in a structured way, rather than answer his own burning question. He’d bet dollars to donuts that it was–

“My father.” Came your fatigued response, confirming his suspicions. Your words were tinged with a bitterness that he’d expected, but they held a deeper upset thinly veiled by your exhaustion.  

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked quietly, his brow pinching with worry as he studied the bags under your eyes. The blond was less informed on the hell you’d been put through over the last month or so, only picking up bits and pieces if Matt relayed them.

With a groan, you collapsed unceremoniously onto Matt’s bed beside him, leaning heavily into him as one of his arms fell across your shoulders. “Of course, it’s just…it wasn’t the pleasant send off I was hoping for.”

Your pulse jumped when you spoke, steadying out as you reached the end of your sentence. Matt already knew that things weren’t “ok” with your mom or your home life in general, but he blinked in surprise to hear the disappointment that coated your words as you referenced your father’s curt goodbye. Making a note to bring that up when you seemed more inclined to be vulnerable, he rubbed a palm over your arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish it had been better.”

Huffing a tiny laugh, you let your head fall against his shoulder. “Me too. How were your holidays?”

“Pleasant.” Matt murmured at the same time Foggy clapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I forced Matt to watch all of the Star Wars movies with me and we ate our weight in cookies.” The long-haired boy explained with genuine enthusiasm. As he began to recount the escapades from the annual Nelson holiday party, your eyes flicked upwards to look at Matt, whose arm was still moving slowly across your shoulder and back as he caressed your sleeve. His eyes were trained forward, but a muscle in his jaw twitched as you focused on him, so you had a sneaking suspicion that neither of you were listening to Foggy’s story. You’d forgotten how well he could read you, until he gave you the option to pretend everything was fine with your dad.

He knew it wasn’t, and you did too. And maybe shoving that shit deep down and pretending it didn’t exist wasn’t a healthy way of handling it, but if you met Foggy’s worried gaze right now it would make you cry, which you were not prepared for. So, whether it was a wonderful coincidence or Matt could truly read you like a picture book, you were thankful for his deflection.

Smiling softly, you looked back to Foggy, listening to him talk about his drunk aunts fawning over Matt and feeling the thick tension bleed out of your shoulders.

Eventually, Foggy took a deep breath, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Woah, head rush!”

Matt chuckled, “You didn’t even stand up, buddy. You ok over there?”

“Yah, I’m fine! Just excited!” Foggy waved a hand, unfazed.

“And I can’t wait to hear about everything, Fog. But maybe we should take a break for presents?”

“Presents?” Foggy’s eyes widened along with his grin, his behavior as animated as a child’s at the mention of gifts. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laughed, prying yourself out of Matt’s secure grip and opening your bag. Tossing two wrapped bundles across the room and onto Foggy’s bed, you set the other two in Matt’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, my lovely Musketeers!” You giggled as Foggy mime-fenced toward you. As soon as the blond was finished beating you in the imaginary sword fight, he eagerly tore into the glittery wrapping paper. Next to you, Matt looked much more apprehensive about the packages in his lap.

“Go on, Matty. Open them!” You encouraged, bumping his shoulder with your own.

“But we don’t have anything for you,” Matt’s lips curled into a pout, looking like a sulking kitten as he trailed a single finger along the crisp edge of the parcel nearest to his hand.

You rolled your eyes fondly. The poor kid had a strong enough sense of justice for the whole campus. ”Matty, we're in college. And I'm the only one with a job. I didn't expect you to get me anything.“

”But—“ Matt argued, but you cut him off with a laugh.

”No more buts! I got these presents for you because I wanted to, not because I thought I’d receive something in return. Please open them?“ Though he couldn't see your face, you batted your lashes and widened your eyes, hoping he could sense the pleading expression.

With a frown, he nodded once, carefully peeling the tape from the paper as if the task required surgical precision. Grinding his teeth as the paper crinkled raucously, he slid the first gift out of its casing carefully, as if he was expecting it to shock him if he moved too quickly. Withdrawing a lump of the softest material he'd ever felt, he ran a thumb over it, trying to decipher what it was. The strip of wool was composed of thick braided stitches, promising to retain warmth in even the most bitter winter weather.

”A scarf?“ He asked, his lips pursed into a small, surprised oval. A rosy blush dusted the tops of his cheeks.

”Yes! I made one for you and one for Foggy. Except yours is a deep red and his is orange.” You spoke softly, smiling over to where the longer-haired boy was wrapping the length of yarn around his neck triumphantly.

“Our favorite colors.” Matt murmured, his fingers still tracing the fuzzy stitching. “You remembered?“

”Of course I did, trouble. That's important information. I'd be a fool to let it slip through the cracks.“ You hoped the joke would make him laugh, but he continued to stare blankly at the scarf as if it was an animal that had just died in his arms. ”If you don't like it, I can take it back, and donate it or something–“

”No!“ Matt looked up, horrified, clutching the scarf to his chest. ”No, I love it. I just...“

Turning his face back to his lap, he licked his lips before continuing. ”I've never gotten something like this before. I don't know what to say, is all.“

”No need to say anything, bub. I'm glad you like it.“ You rubbed your palm over his arm, mirroring his actions from just a moment ago.

Still focused on his own gifts, Foggy's excited screech startled both you and Matt. ”NO WAY!“

Turning to you with a dropped jaw, Foggy shook his head. ”There is no way you got this.“

”What is it, buddy?“ Matt asked, his lips curled into a soft smile as he heard Foggy open a hardcover book eagerly.

”A first edition of The Fellowship of the Ring!“ Foggy was practically giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rifled through the pages. ”How did you even get this?“

Grinning at him, you giggled. ”My mom has a friend with an extensive book collection and asked where we could find one. Turns out, the friend had one of her own and was willing to part with it for next to nothing. Guess she owed my mom a favor.”

Diving across the room to crush you in another hug, Foggy kissed the top of your head. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”

Laughing brightly, you struggled to shove your friend off of you. When he was this worked up, Foggy had the tenacity of an overexcited golden retriever. As usual, Matt helped release you from his clutches. ”You're welcome, Fog. I wanted to get you a nice copy since you lost the one you brought to school.”

“I'd say you accomplished that, my lovely jitterbug.” Foggy ruffled your hair, retreating to his bed and launching himself onto the mattress–the rusted springs creaking in protest.

Giggling at him, you turned back to Matt. “Alright, Murdock. Your turn, again. After this, I promise never to put you through this torture again. Until next year.”

Matt groaned in response, snatching the second gift with more vigor. “Let's get this over with.”

Approaching the gift with the same systematic tactic as the first, he slid the paper off of the box without a single tear. Setting the wrapping aside, he opened the cardboard package and pulled out his real gift.

“Ok so, I'm not sure how helpful these will be,” You warned, fidgeting with your hands as he ran his fingers along the band connecting the ear pieces. “But, they're, um, noise-canceling headphones?”

Matt's breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed with guilt and affection and surprise at the present, all words of gratitude pulled back down to his vocal chords as he focused solely on not bursting into tears.

Over the past few weeks, the Nelsons had been kind enough to invite him to stay and celebrate with them. He was flattered, and so thankful, but he wasn't used to so many...people. During a few of your phone calls over the break, he'd mentioned that the excessive stimuli, mainly noise, had been getting to him and giving him headaches. And rather than chastising him for being ungrateful, you'd listened and sympathized with him over the phone, ultimately buying him a solution to the issue with your own money.

Sure, there was no guarantee that these would work for his heightened senses, but you didn't know that. And the idea that you were willing to go to such immense lengths to ensure his comfort...it was evidence of a love he hadn't experienced in a decade.

“Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” Your worried murmur broke his train of thought.

“No,” He choked out. ”No, they're perfect. So is the scarf. Thank you, bug.“

”Of course. Merry Christmas, Matt.“ You kissed his cheek gently and he felt a flush crawling up his neck. Wrapping an arm around you, he tucked you close to his chest, hand cradling the back of your neck.

”Merry Christmas, sweetheart.“

The two of you sat there in silence, holding each other close for a minute before your phone rang. Sighing deeply, you rested your head against Matt's shoulder as you fumbled for your phone. Thankfully, the screen displayed your mom's contact information, not your father.

“Sorry, trouble. I have to take this.“ You squeezed his arm, pulling out of his embrace and stretching as you stood. ”I'll be right back. Hopefully.“

Smiling at your near-groan, Matt jerked his chin towards the door. ”We'll be here.“

Slipping into the hallway, you lowered your voice. ”Hey mama, everything ok?“

”Hey baby, everything's fine, just had a couple questions for you about bills.“ Her sweet voice was strained and you could practically see her flicking her gaze to meet your father's, his metaphorical gun to her head as she made the call.

”Ok,“ You ground out, trying not to snap at her when she wasn't the reason you were frustrated. ”Um, what questions did you have?”

“You did pay the one from November?” She asked, predictably.

“I did. It'll reflect soon and Dad has nothing to worry about. The bill is attached to our names, not his. That's why Collections isn't writing to him.“ You explained as calmly as you could, knowing that she was aware of this already, but probably had you on speakerphone. ”Was that all?“

”Not exactly.“ Her tone shifted, pitching lower and sounding almost embarrassed. A crackle rippled over the line and suddenly your father's gruff voice replaced the one you adored.

“You need to come home next weekend to help your mom with the next round of billing. I've run out of time off and can no longer assist.” He commanded, the ‘compassion’ he held for her livelihood nowhere to be found.

‘Oh because you were so helpful this month when you were ordering us around.’  You griped internally. “What round of billing? The one from Thanksgiving–”

“Was four appointments ago. These things aren't free, you know. They’re wanting us to pay for them.”

Both you and your bank account were intimately familiar with the steep cost of her treatment. Inhaling deeply, you paced a few steps from Matt and Foggy's room. “I know they aren't free. We signed her up for a payment plan two weeks ago that offers a deferral–”

“She was denied.” His laconic answer made your spirits plummet as time came to a halt. Your pounding heart froze in place, dread creeping up your spine. 

“What?” On the off chance that he was being unintentionally misleading, you needed to clarify.

Your mother's apologetic voice came over the line once again. ”I wasn't accepted into the financial assistance program, baby. But, it's ok! I can pick up more shifts–“

”No!” You exclaimed, the shrill edge of your cry echoing down the hallway. You tried again, digging your nails into the flesh of your palm as you fought to keep your voice steady.

“Don't...you don't need to do that mama. I don't want you to overwork yourself. I'll come home on Friday and we can talk about options, ok?“ You bargained, running through your work schedule in your head to create a plan.

”Are you sure, honey? Won't you be busy getting a head start on the semester?“ 

Blinking back tears at her obvious care for you, you cleared your throat before answering. “It’s alright, mama. It’s just syllabus week, I’m sure I’ll have time to come home and sort things out.”

“She’ll make time.” Your father’s promise was more for your mom than you, but it felt like a swift kick to the gut all the same. 

Because you would make time. You had to. No one else would. You were your mom’s last line of defense. Prioritizing yourself and failing to be there for her wasn’t an option you had. The emotional burden you were carrying felt impossibly heavy, as if there was a line of anvils across your shoulders and chest, slowly forcing the oxygen out of your lungs until you perished. 

“Of course I will. I’ll see you this weekend, mama. Love you.” You choked out, slapping a palm over your mouth before you broke. 

“I love you too, baby. Have a good week at school!” You could picture her tired smile as she wished you a proper goodbye, the image cracking your composure. 

You hung up before the first tear rolled down your cheek. Dropping your face into your hands, you bit your lip to stifle a sob, letting the tears flow silently instead. Falling back against the wall behind you, you let your legs give out as you collapsed to the disgusting dorm hallway carpet. 

The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the noises drifting through the thin walls, an urge to scream churned in your chest. Ugly, rage filled sobs were barreling up your throat, desperately trying to claw their way out, to make your pain known. Hunching over your knees in a pitiful crouch, you shielded your face with your arms, preventing any passersby from seeing your much-needed meltdown. 

Choking out a breath around another half-smothered sob, you nearly screamed when a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up frantically, the outburst downgraded to a strangled whine when you saw Matt’s furrowed brow directed at you. 

Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, opening his arms with a frown. Throwing yourself into his embrace, you couldn’t help the hideous sounds that escaped you as he enveloped you in his muscular arms with ease. Tucking your head under his chin, you shook violently against his chest as you bawled. 

“I can’t do this, Matt. I can’t–” You gasped out, your breath stuttering as you wept forcefully into his shoulder. 

Shushing you gently, he rubbed circles into your back with his large hand.

Whimpering at the touch, you wiped at your tear-streaked face furiously. “”I’m barely an adult. How am I supposed to do this?” Your voice shattered around the words, throat constricting with anguish.

“I don’t know,” Matt cooed, stroking a fresh pair of tears away from your skin with his thumbs. “But I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ll get through it together.” 

Burying your face into his neck miserably, you shuddered with distaste. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispered gravely, pressing a kiss to your crown. 

With that promise, your brain seemed to shut off. Your tears gradually slowed to a halt, leaving you dazed and exhausted in Matt’s lap. Heaving out a shaky exhale, you closed your eyes, letting his soft touches wash over you like the tides. Kissing your forehead tenderly, Matt cupped your cheek. 

“Why don’t we go sit somewhere softer than this shitty floor, hmm?” His small question was meant to make you laugh, but your fatigue had chased away every other emotion. 

Nodding softly, you let Matt pull you from the ground and back into his room, welcoming the darkness after the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Sliding off his glasses and placing them on his nightstand, he guided you to Foggy’s bed. The blond frowned at you, setting his book aside. 

“You ok, bug?” He asked, sitting up to inspect your puffy eyes.

Shaking your head tiredly, you crawled onto his mattress and let him wrap you in a hug. Matt, with an impressive amount of agility, somehow leapt onto the bed behind you, snaking his arms around your middle so that you were sandwiched between him and his roommate. You listened to their steady breathing, letting the sound lull you into a more peaceful state of mind. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, Matt’s lips scratched over the back of your head. “Fog, think you could read some of your book for us?”

“Uh, yah totally.” Foggy pouted, gaze still lingering on your drained face. “Let me just find my page.”

The combination of your worn-out consciousness and the comforting presence of your two best friends was dangerous. Your eyes fluttered shut and you could feel yourself drifting off. 

As if reading your thoughts, Matt kissed your hair. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Squeezing his fingers, you stopped fighting the darkness pulling at the edges of your vision, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind

Please tell me if these tags aren't working for you all because Tumblr has been acting up :/

[ptolomeia]

Who wants to hear my thoughts on how my disability, fatness and grief all intersect?

If the answer is not you, please press j to continue to the next post!

So, we're coming up on a year now since our disability meant we had to come to terms with the fact that we would never be able to work and had to drop out of school for our dream job and become a housebound/bedbound lump person. Now my dream job was in construction, it was unionized and extremely well paid and I was three months short of graduating when reality became undeniable. I was never going to be able to do this.

I may have been the only person in my class who had to double check the weight capacity of my harness and shock absorber, but I was fucking good at the work. One of my teachers had me tutoring classmates before the brain fog made that impossible. And while it was hard to find clothes that fit me, mens clothes typically came in larger sizes, which worked for me.

And then came MECFS, slowly robbing my life of, well, most things really. Including, but very much not limited to, my sense of identity and my dream job.

Being a poor student, I didn't really have many clothes that didn't fit with that life. And being very fat, i couldnt exactly go to a mall and buy fast fashion that suited me better for cheap. So, I find myself almost a year down the line with still not many clothes that make me feel good or happy or non additional grief.

Which brings me to my next set of issues. Due to sensory and temperature regulation issues, I can only wear natural breathable fibers (another thing that cuts me off from fast fashion). Between the exhaustion from my ME/CFS and my sensory issues, shopping is hard on me.

But HAHA! I think. I've been sewing on and off for near two decades now (ow my brain). I can just sew myself a new wardrobe! Besides, the non construction worker styles I like (vintage 40s-50s) is even harder to find plus sized, well fitting anyway. If I can't do my dream job, at least I can enjoy some expertly sewn (eh, close enough), perfectly (that could probably use some quotes) fitting clothes in a style I've long loved but thought impractical!

Except, here's the thing. Sewing requires energy. Laying out and cutting out fabric requires energy. It requires precision and focus and when I only have a few good hours a day and have to take care of myself and my home on top of my sewing ambitions...

Last summer I made a pair of shorts (two front pieces, two back pieces, a fly, a waist band, belt loops, 4 pockets and facings) in three days at the start of my decline, and that was on top of doing some basic renovations at my parents house. Last month, an extremely simple t-shirt (front, back, two sleeves and a neckband) took me... a week? More? And there's so much more I want to make working through my stash. Pj's that aren't falling apart. A new raincoat and a new fall coat. A simple 1950s style dress in a wonderfully loud plaid that would just be so much fun.

But this morning I was trying to get my jersey to lie flat and nearly ended up crying (knits are the devil fabric. Curse them and their comfort and stretch). There are days where it feels like there is nothing this disease won't take from me.

But at the same time... even if a year ago I could have trimmed assembled and cut out a pattern in one day, at least today I got to trim the papers? And even if cutting out that jersey took more fabric that it strictly needed to, at least I'm one step closer to having some new, hole free pjs.

So, even as i grieve the many many things I lost, I try to hold to what I still can do. And also rail against the world for making things harder for fat people than they need to be. Because seriously, I'm having to learn to make my own patterns (and yes, they will fit better but that is not the point) because most patterns (and definitely none of the big commercial ones) come in anything close to my measurements. This makes me extremely annoyed.

But yeah, to sum up, disability, fatness, grief, and hope all make a very complex ball. And I wish it could be easier

[writingseaslugs]

I'm alive...kinda?

So it's been a while huh? Since the end of March actually, since I last posted anything. Which sucks because it was literally right after I was super excited to do a collab with a friend, as well as my plans for getting content out! So what happened you may ask (and I'm referring to the lovely people who are in my inbox asking and being concerned, I'm so sorry for worrying ya). Well, let me tell you!

Health.

Sucks.

So here's a quick TW because I'm going to go into detail about everything that's happened since the last time I was here under the cut. This includes both issues with eating (involuntary), as well as surgical stuff. There will also be a TL;DR at the end of this post.

So as I've mentioned previously (I think) I have chronic nausea. I'm almost always feeling sick after I eat therefore I don't really...eat much. Especially not when I'm working because I can't afford to be sick and have to go home (my job requires me to be on my feet, interacting with clients all day and I woke 9-hour shifts). So because I'm unable to get enough nutrients (normally I won't even eat until I get home from work, and if I do it's protein drinks and pudding during my work day), I'm pretty...weak most of the time.

Let me tell you, eating is so important to function like a human. If you don't you are tired, your muscles hurt, and there are so many other horrible things that go into it that I won't go into detail about.

My biggest problem with not being able to eat enough is fatigue. I am always tired and in a brain fog that writing is impossible. If I can even get the energy to open up my laptop and bring it to my bed, it's typically dashed the moment I open a Word document and can barely type.

I had maybe a solid good week or two a month back right after I went on vacation to see a friend (probably because I was able to eat regularly-ish due to not having to worry about being sick at work) however, like always, it was quickly squashed with reality and I went back to brain fog central, but I feel like it was worse this time.

I only had the energy to talk with three of my closest friends, and occasionally I'd have the brain capacity and energy to play games with one of them, but that's about it. I can't tell you how many times I had to cancel my weekly call with one of my friends from being too tired or putting off playing a game with my other because I just didn't have the energy to cross my room and pick up my controller. It was bad.

Most of my days off have been in bed, sleeping, and trying to eat. So it hasn't been great.

However, two weeks ago something happened. I had stomach pain. Which granted, I have had before. Not the normal nausea but physical pain that if you pressed on my stomach it hurt. I was even walking with a limb by the end of the day. It doesn't happen often but I'm stubborn and don't like going to the hospitals so I had always chalked it up to a "self-correcting problem". For years. Whenever this happened it would go away within a few hours (nine hours max).

So when I woke up the NEXT day and it was still hurting, something was a bit wrong. I called out of work because there was no way I would've been able to stand and made a small deal with myself that if it wasn't gone by the next morning I would...go to the doctor. I know, crazy that I was gonna wait to be in pain for nearly three days but I hate hospitals and I didn't have health insurance with my new job.

Well, this wasn't good enough for my mom and she convinced me to go. The only way she did that was she seemed concerned. Now I'm dramatic. Very, very dramatic. And also a bit of a hypochondriac so I always feel like when I'm sick or in pain I'm simply being dramatic and that it's not actually serious even though my anxiety is telling me I might literally be dying (the number of times I have almost passed out by standing up and brushed it off, or laid in bed and suddenly my heart rate was going off like I sprinted a mile and decided I was probably fine is impeccable).

So I go to the emergency room and they ran some tests and what would you know! It's my appendix. And it wanted to break up with me...how admirable. And apparently, it was way worse than doctors initially thought because I happen to have an abnormally high pain tolerance so when asked on a scale of 1 - 10 what my pain was I said a 3. Apparently, with how bad off it was, I should've been at a 10+ but oh well.

The surgery that they predicted would be no longer than half an hour ended up being an entire hour, and I got four incisions when they said I'd only have three.

So I've been recovering for the past two weeks and should hopefully be back at work on Thursday. Decided to make this post because for once I've been able to eat decent meals for a few days in a row since I haven't been at work, and my brain is actually working for a while. I'm hoping maybe it'll continue so I can start writing again (Writing Twisted Wonderland content is a huge comfort of mine) but who knows.

Maybe my chronic nausea will be solved and I'll be nice and healthy and be able to eat regularly. I can dream. However since I have had a lot of people in my inbox asking me where I've been and if I'm doing already, and how I've essentially ghosted several friends in the fandom since I just don't have the energy to message many people, I figured I should give you the explanation as to what happened.

I'm going to try to get a little bit of writing done today, maybe bust out a few requests. I'm a bit stressed out since one of my good friends is currently on their way to the hospital because she's also a sick bean like me, but also I know damn well she'd enjoy seeing some Twisted Writing so imma do it.

Thank you for listening to my ramblings! I love you all!

TL;DR - I got really sick and couldn't write and then my appendix said bye.

[afniel]

One of the tanks in my static now has the exact illness I had. He lives on the opposite coast from me. I do not enjoy the rammies or the impies of that! What the fuck is going around now kicking people's asses across the full country and the only real symptom is a hardcore fever and body aches that make you feel like you're going to McFucking Die? Covid tests came up negative for both of us, and we both had no respiratory symptoms at all, so the easy answer doesn't seem right, here.

Like, okay, in case this matters or makes sense in hindsight later (please gods I really hope not but I've seen enough to know), there are a few more kind of weird symptoms we matched up on while comparing notes:

Back pain. Especially lower back for some reason. He had notable lower leg pain, I had neck pain.

Headache. The kind that makes you feel like your skull is going to explode and cave in at the same time.

Debilitating brain fog. Like where you can barely process which room of your house you're in.

Time dilation. I usually am time blind anyway, but when I say the two and a half days it kicked my ass felt like literal weeks, I'm not even kidding.

Stomach pain and negative appetite. Not exactly nausea, but eating and drinking just hurt. Neither of us could stomach more than a few bites/sips of anything at all, no matter how depleted we got. If we pushed it and tried anyway, it would kinda feel like nausea, but neither of us even got close to throwing up.

No idea where we caught it. Neither of us are into going out for the sake of being out. Probably got it at the grocery or something like that.

So yeah, fuck if I know what that was, but it was not cool and it's apparently nationwide. I'm gonna be keeping an eye on currently circulating illnesses to see if I can figure this one out, because I have nearly died of pneumonia as a child and I still felt sicker with this mystery illness than I did when I was almost hospitalized.

[kopawz]

whats up its wip wednesday! i'd say its nearly halfway done by now.

Chai swiped a hand through his bangs, "Fine," He reached for the drink he must've ordered, some kind of bubble tea.

"...This isn’t yours either, is it?"

"Nope," She lightly shook her own drink, putting it down on the table beside her again, "I've kinda had it this entire time."

Chai groaned at himself for not noticing that detail either… He leaned forward to rest his forehead onto the cool table.

His voice was a bit muffled from his head being wrapped in his folded arms, "Man, I really *am* out of it today, huh?"

Peppermint bit into her newfound basic bagel with one hand, "Yeeeeah, but I get it, you're out of your element here."

She reached over to ruffle the back of Chai’s greasy, bed-ridden hair with the other, "And two weeks straight of sleeping probably does that to you."

"Mm. I felt fine before I came down here, though." He sat up, lightly pushing away Peppermint’s hand, "I literally saw one of the head nurses and I got reminded of this, like…?"

He squinted in an attempt to remember, "Really weird dream I had. I kept having the same nightmare a bunch of times over."

She tilted her head, "Youuuu… Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah, but… It’s weird." Chai leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms.

"Lots of things have been weird lately, Chai. I don't think whatever you dreamt up would weird me out enough to stop listening if you wanted to tell me."

It couldn't hurt.

"...Alright."

Chai brought up a hand to his chin, trying to recall the dream events through the fog of numbing pain medication, rather than the fog of Spectra’s remnant effects, "Sooo…"

"You, and the rest of the gang were there. We were all chatting it up in my hospital room. Then, the nurse came in to direct a call. My mom was ringing me on that– the little phone on the bed stand,"

"I tried talking to her, but she couldn't hear anything I was trying to say," He lifted his hand up to hover over his jugular notch, frowning, "It was like I was muted."

He reached across the table for his tea, swirling the straw instead of actually drinking it, "And, what she was talking to herself before she hung up on me–? It was like… I don't know."

808 watched the boba swirl with the straw, mesmerized at the bubbles' dance with a lazy expression.

"...Like what?" Peppermint offered.

"I thought she'd be furious, but– she sounded more disappointed and sad about it than anything. But it still– It just didn’t sound right. It sounded like she just gave up on me."

Peppermint knew damn well after hearing about his mother that she wouldn't, but she doesn't want to spoil the surprise.

"Well, hey. Stuff in dreams just get brought up from whatever you're scared of or worried about." She crumpled up her wrapper, and chucked it into a trash bin beyond the tables they were sitting at.

"M'yeah, you're right," He brought his tea closer, slurping obnoxiously, "I don’t… actually have any idea how she's gonna react to all this,"

He let the cool cup rest against his cheek, "I guess it would just be easier if I did."

Peppermint frowned at him, "You obviously can't control or predict how somebody's going to take something like this, Chai."

He grumbled, "I know! I know. My brain's just... barfing whatever it feels the most– right onto center stage."

"Weirder than that, though…" Chai leaned a bit closer to the side, sneaking a grin onto his face as if what he was about to tell Peppermint was a sworn, forbidden secret, "Kale showed up."

"Yeah, no shit." She raised her brows, unamused, "Blowing up his double didn't exactly get rid of him, did it, wise guy?"

Chai shook his head with a smile, "Yeah– No, but–! I think he was trying to help me for once!"

"...Seriously?" She squinted, suspicious. "Sounds fake."

"Yeah, it doesn't sound correct to me either, buuuut–?" He shrugged, reaching over across the table to pet 808, "I think him and 808 were trying to snap me out of it somehow."

"Her trying to help you out, I can believe," Peppermint pat the little kitty's head smiling softly at her–

She twisted back to look sourly at Chai, "But KALE? You're really sure his stupid AI double isn't just trying to get more sensitive information out of you?"

Chai made an uncertain noise.

"I'm… not sure."

His face hardened, putting down his empty boba cup, "But, I sure hope he isn’t– You remember back when you guys were pulling me out of the ocean?"

She gave Chai a look that made it hard to look at her directly. His angry outburst was still fresh in her mind.

"...What about it?"

"Well, um. Me and Kale, we made a truce!" Chai brought his fists together in a solid hitting motion, mimicking a brofist that absolutely did not happen,

"I told him when I was asleep; he’d quit attacking me, and stop nosing into my business. He seems to be…" He shrugged, making a high pitched noise, "*Trying* to do that?"

He sighed, shaking his head, "He's still being kind of an asshole, though."

"I don't think any promise could make him anything less of a huge head-ache," Peppermint snorts, "How'd you even get him to agree to that? Annoy him until he gave up?"

"What?!" Chai squawked out, offended, "I didn't need to annoy him into the truce– I'm good at reasoning with people! ...Sometimes!" 

He huffed, grabbing the croissant to bite and complain through a mouthful,  "…I guess a truce and starting up a band is as good as I'm gonna get right now, though."

Peppermint stared at him for a few moments, confused– "...What?"

"Yeah, a truce doesn't really make him nicer, I guess." He hummed, "Maybe I should've added, like.. another condition or something–"

"No Chai, why the hell are you starting a band with him?"

"He doesn't have anything better to do while he's stuck in my head forever, does he? I thought it'd be fun!"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, "Forever? Dude–"

Peppermint’s face lit up, "Actually, I don't think you'll have to worry about that,"

She grabbed the remaining trash from their breakfast, and swiped it into the bag they got, and stood from her seat.

Chai watched her as she moved to chuck the trash into a bin, "What do you mean? you guys *literally* told me this is something I can't just… remove,"

He knocked against his chest, making a slight glass clank against his hospital shirt, "Spectra’s tech is still kinda installed in my stuff, y’know."

She moved to stand beside the table, leaning her arms back on it, "Yeah– But, your, uh– adventure to plug Spectra back in actually helped mom figure something out about how the program's memory cache works."

He tilted his head up at Peppermint, scrunching his nose at the unfamiliar tech babble, "Memory what?"

"It was what was causing the blackouts. Basically, whenever we got those power outages from Kale's copy dreamwalking to bother you and mom–"

"We couldn't tell where it was coming from, because it wasn't plugged in."

"It was practically impossible to trace the source of the power surges, until two weeks ago!" She snapped her finger to Chai, "So, you actually might get a slightly clearer head out of all this mess, once mom figures out the memory cache transfer."

Chai and 808 nodded along, loosley getting the idea, "Alright, but I still don't know what this cache thing is."

"It's the part of Spectra that transmits the AI into your head, and lets it gather data to make it better at controlling and influencing the mind– That was the memory cache. It was reaching out to collect data even when powered off."

Chai appeared ready to unload a barrage of questions in quick succession, but he made a strangled noise when he was interrupted by a hand smacking over him mouth before he could fire off his first inquiry–

Pushing out a heavy sigh, "Look, it would be easier to just show you what mom wants to figure out how to do, instead of me explaining the whole process."

Peppermint quit leaning on the table, and moved away from their seats into the open cafeteria.

She looked back towards Chai, "Feeling better enough to make a visit to a patient?"

He hummed, looking down to check his right arm. It still felt like it was weightlessly rattling, yet the noise had stopped. It was now more of a buzzing feeling where the arm and shoulder connected.

"Eh, good enough. I'll tell you if it gets bad again," Chai stood from his seat, and waited a moment to let 808 clamber onto his shoulder. He picked up the pace, and started following Peppermint.

"...Who are we visiting, anyway?"

[iloveanimalsmorethanhumans]

It's been 14 years, now...Wow....

Story time! For those who are not aware of what went down in my life 10 years ago, and even for those who were,

Here's the story:

10 years ago I was a divorced Mama, renting a room in a house with two other women, trying to juggle work and motherhood and I was pretty miserable.

I had just broken up with a guy who turned out to be a severe alcoholic. (Oh, the irony.)

I had spent the evening before hanging out with one of my best friends, laughing at the silliest things until my stomach hurt. I felt pretty good that night. I didn't get home until about 2 a.m. and I had work the next morning.

That same night someone else was up all night, not having nearly as much fun. She and her boyfriend were up all night fighting, and drinking.

At 7 a.m. I managed to get myself up and out the door. I was tired, but still happy.

The other woman would be leaving her boyfriend's house soon. Drunk, and not happy at all. She would have a bottle of wine with her.

My memories of what happened next shatter into bits and pieces.

I can remember voices, talking, being on the side of the road, arguing with the first responders about whether I was wearing a seatbelt or not. Yelling at the same first responders to call Lowe's and tell them I was going to be a little late.

I don't remember much for a while. Totally missed the helicopter ride to Christiana.

I digress. What I forgot was the part where that other woman and I met, in the middle of the road, head on.

The impact spun my van around and caused it to flip. I was partially ejected from the passenger side, partially in a ditch with the top of the passenger side on my chest.

There was a farmer who heard the collision and my screams. (I don't remember screaming, but given the situation it seems to have been an appropriate response.

He called 911 and held the van up off of me until they got there. (I would meet him a little over a year later in better circumstances.)

The time after that is kind of a blur. 3 weeks in the hospital getting pieced back together. My ankle was crushed and some of the bones decided to check out the world outside of the flesh.

My father and Step Mom came up from North Carolina and immediately jumped into cleaning up all of my loose ends and figuring out how to help me piece my life back together.

There are two metal plates and some screws in my leg, they became the plates and screws for the rest of me. I'll be eternally grateful for that.

I'll also always be grateful to my cousins who drove over as soon as they heard so the first people I could see after surgery were family. That still resounds with me, and remains an important memory in the fog.

It took 10 long months, moving to North Carolina, leaving my son here, almost losing my leg to infection, a lot of tears, a lot of laughter, and so much patience and determination.

I look back and can mark the changes in my life since then. The full extent of my injuries wouldn't be discovered for a few years. Hello head injuries and brain damage!

Yeah, I've been through a lot. Some days I struggle more than others, but I survived, and I am thriving. Although some days I can't see it, and depression doesn't just go away after you survive something like that, no matter what the movies show, but the good days outnumber the bad, and overall, I am happy, and I love my life. I'm grateful for it, and I'm grateful for the people sharing it with me. ❤

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[0nlinejournal]

8:35pm

Ah, it's been a couple of days. I've been doing that thing that I keep trying to stop doing where I tell myself I'm going to stay home because I desperately need alone time but end up saying yes to every friend that asks me to hang out.

I was dead set on staying home last night, but ended up at my boyfriend's place again after he texted me from work saying he was missing me. I cleaned the tattoo shop late and headed to his place at around 10:30pm. I was berating myself in my head while cleaning, telling myself I should stay home (I promised myself I would!), but he did agree to watch all of Over the Garden Wall once I was there. I feel pleased with the night.

It's so strange how prior to last year I was a complete recluse and was very capable of telling all my friends no when they asked me to hang out. I didn't even text people back because it made me too anxious to look at my phone and see a text notification. Now, most of my solitude was due to my mother guilt tripping me any time I left the house, accusing me of hating her and never wanting to spend time with her, but after 24 years of solitude I had learned to be very comfortable with myself. I did enjoy it to some degree. And now, I miss my alone time. Unfortunately, I've thrown myself into a never-ending merry-go-round of saying yes to people and have developed a new fear of telling people no.

I did tell my friend no tonight, though. Pats on the back for me please and thank you. I did say yes at first. Hard to say no to a chill night at a friend's house with a small group and some wine, but I really do wish to stay home and spend time with myself (and my dog child).

I am about to have two weeks to myself, though. Dog sitting for my mother starts on the 7th, and I'll be on the outskirts of town so it'll be much easier for me to tell everyone I can't do anything. It's not a far drive, but it is a drive I hate. I took off of both of my jobs since my mother is paying me, and I will be in my own personal hell surrounded by two elder dogs that cannot control their bladders, and two dogs that hate each other, but I'll be alone.

I'm going to try to quit nicotine while I'm out there, too. I've quit before, but I ruined it when I asked to hit a friend's vape one night. After 163 days! I ruined it just like that! I found it easier to quit that first time. This time it's feels nearly impossible. I get these awful headaches, I can't stop eating, and I turn into the most irritable bitch you can imagine. I can't make it past three days. All of my friends have vapes, so even when I didn't have one for months because I was "quitting", I knew that I would be able to hit one of theirs. I broke down a few ago and bought one, I'm now on my second one, but I think it will die tomorrow. Then I have isolation to look forward to, so I can cry and be angry alone without affecting anyone else. That's my plan anyway. I hope it works. I feel disgusting having my mood be so dependent on my access to nicotine. Hopefully keeping up with this journal can help too. I'm anticipating some brain fog, though, so the entries might not be the best.

Tomorrow night I'm going out to the string of bars downtown with my boyfriend, and his ex. I don't think I've mentioned this yet. This will be my first time meeting her. The thought alone makes me wildly nervous. I'm worried she's going to be one of those gals that slyly hits on my boyfriend. And if not that, I'm worried I'm going to get jealous anyway if he appears to be having more fun with her than he does with me. That's not fair, they haven't seen each other in a long time, and I know he doesn't want to be with her (that's what he told me at least, he doesn't like her like that anymore, their relationship didn't work out for a reason), but I'm worried he's just telling himself that and as a result accidentally lying to me. I want to see this through, though. I'm friends with a couple of my exes, good friends with them, and he was able to get comfortable with that pretty quickly. So, I want to trust him and allow him to reconnect with her if he so chooses. They've kept loosely in touch throughout the years they've been separated, but they don't talk when she's dating someone because she apparently dates very jealous men. I say that, but I know that talking to exes is a widely unpopular thing for partners to be comfortable with generally.

The thing that catches me a bit off guard though is that he says she's kind of mean, like, how Sam is mean. And we've been wanting to distance ourselves from Sam, so why even entertain hanging out with this ex? I hang out with my exes because they're genuinely wonderful people. They are kind, and funny, and considerate, it's just that our romantic relationship wasn't it, you know? But I like them enough to want to have them in my lives as friends. I value them as friends and as people, I just don't want to date them. And they are mature enough (thank goodness) to be able to value me as a friend and not trick themselves into desiring anything more. I trust them. Maybe I can trust my boyfriend's ex too, but as of right now having not met her, I am still a bit anxious. To her credit, she did apologize to him recently for her behavior when they were dating. So maybe she's grown as a person and isn't actually that mean anymore.

I don't know I don't know I don't know. I've been so in my head about my relationship recently I'm just worried my brain isn't going to be in the right mood or have the right energy levels to have a good time. That's why I need rest tonight. I need alone time to recharge so I can be excited for tomorrow.

I'm going to clean the tattoo shop tomorrow morning. I don't feel like doing it tonight. I'm going to try to read Frankenstein tonight. Oh! Also, while in isolation I plan on reading my mother's boyfriend's book. I tried once before, but... I don't... like it. He wanted feedback, but if I was to give genuine feedback I think it would hurt him. But I thought I could read it and chapter by chapter break down my thoughts on here. Maybe if I make it like a game I can get through the whole thing.

Okay, off to read! Goodnight!

9:10pm

[fighterkimburgess]

So sorry to hear that you are on antibiotics again - hope you will feel better soon! 😘

Ah thank you!

I'm very nearly finished them, I've got two and a bit days to go, Friday morning should be my last dose. The lump they're there to get rid of is basically gone, and if it wasn't for the brain fog I'd be perfect right now tbh.

Honestly I'm just super grateful I'm basically there. This last week of being alone at home has been some of the best time I've had.

[hecallsmehischild]

More on the Weird Fits

(Mid-September) Earlier this year I wrote about my weight loss journey, and how I've had one really bizarre situation crop up for the last year and a half. At the time, we thought perhaps that old toxins stored in old fat cells were being released into my system as I burned down through layers. We hoped it would stop, but it didn't. That theory was bust.

The next most plausible theory was parasite infection. Pinworms are apparently a very common parasite in the US. Now, the "weird fits" I have look like this:

--Nausea (with about 60% chance of throwing up) --Uncontrollable, irrational negative thoughts --Panic-attack level anxiety sustained for the whole fit (OR extreme, brain-fogging fatigue) --Chills and shaking --Muscle tension (worse than normal) --Inability to sleep until fit has passed (even when fatigued)

It feels like hell. Like it will never end, that this is my new state of being forever. It usually starts within an hour of eating dinner, and is almost always at night. When the fit passes, it’s a very clear, dramatic, and instant difference where mental fog parts and my muscles relax and I am no longer terrified about whatever irrational thing my brain seized on. Each fit lasts between 4-6 hours (with one exceptional fit that lasted 9 hours) and while some effects can be mitigated, it can not be stopped by anything. I can only endure. The best thing I found to do is play a video game until it is over, because a game is mostly mindless, but engages me in action just enough to take the edge off full consciousness of what is going on in my mind and body. I am non-functional during these fits.

Fits have been happening every 1-2 months since March 2020. For two months they happened nearly weekly.

No site about pinworms talks about symptoms like these, but I did have one of the clearer signs of pinworms (embarrassing to mention so if you really need to know, please Google the symptoms yourself). Since pinworms are in the digestive system, it also makes sense that all this kicks in within an hour of eating dinner (night is most active time, plus eating churns up the digestive system).

When we thought it might be pinworms, I dosed myself with over the counter medication. First one dose, and then a second dose two weeks later. Everything has been calm for about three months (save for one instance that was clearly traced to food poisoning). I declared victory, to myself, to my husband, to a few people who I'd panicked at about this over the past year. I was nearly ready to declare victory here on the blog.

Then it happened again last night, and this time food poisoning is unlikely. It had all the signs of my usual weird fit. In the middle of the fit I had a lot of fear and despair that it was back. In my head was a lot of "I'll never be able to go on trips since I'm like this," and "How can I live my life if this is constantly going on?" and even "What is all this doing to my organs and my teeth? I've never thrown up this frequently in my life."

And finally, at 4am, the fog parted. I was so full of energy, I still couldn't sleep until 6am. Today I woke up, and I wasn't frightened. I thought, "We still have to deal with this? Okay."

Every time I'm in the middle of it, I think that there is no worse experience in the world. Well, that's just not true. There's plenty of worse experiences in the world. It's very strange, almost like there's two entirely separate Dustys with two entirely separate perceptions of the situation. The first is convinced she's living in hell. She feels more fragile than glass and would rather die than have to go through another block of 6 hours like this ever again. She curses the existence of food because of how horrible she feels, and wonders why this shitty consumption system exists in the first place.

The second Dusty sighs, sad that this happened again, but she revels in the feeling of a normal day. She eats every bite slowly and savors it, grateful for the pleasure of taste and the strengthening feeling that good, clean food gives. She's more wary of what she eats and when, for a couple of weeks, but she faces down the anxiety with specific intention, because giving too much ground here would make it too hard to reclaim.

I will not become too afraid to leave the house. I will not become too afraid to visit friends and family in other cities and states. I will not become too afraid to eat my fill. If I have to live with this, I will find a way. I will figure out strategies and coping mechanisms. But we haven't exhausted possibilities to treat it yet, and even settling for living with it is a step too soon. It still might be pinworms. It might not. I've contacted my doctor and we're in the middle of scans and talking to specialists to cover bases. It is possible I need a stronger dose of medicine, or more doses spread out over time, or that everyone in the house has to dose at the same time, or that this is something else.

But whatever the case, giving up isn't an option. There is too much goodness in life when the terror parts and the sun rises.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Hey crim! Can i ask for 12 for minicat? And I just wanna say, I've read Redolence's first chapter and I love it already! The countdown!!!! Ah!!!!! The foreboding!!! AH!!!!!!

Thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you continue to like it ^.^ 

And sorry I haven’t been getting drabbles out as fast this week, May 7th-May 14th is a really weird time for me every year so I struggle. But here’s one for you!

Couple: Minicat Number: 12 Prompt: “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

“Tyler, we’ve been driving for an hour.” Craig knew his voice picked up a whine toward the end of his complaint, which was exactly what he’d been aiming for. He banked on the tone driving his best friend crazy. But he always thought Tyler was hot with a scowl, so it was a win for him. He couldn’t tell Tyler that, of course, because he’d get a fist in the face and lose his best friend, but it was basically common knowledge. Who didn’t think Tyler was the best thing their little town produced?

“I swear I will throw you out of the car and leave you here.” The snap in the driver’s voice made Mini snicker, leaning lower in his seat to kick his feet up onto the dashboard. His shoes were long forgotten, and he rubbed his socks against the glass. “Will you get your nasty feet off my windshield?”

“Will you tell me where you’re taking me?” The silence was enough to prove they had a stalemate, and Mini hummed before drawing a heart with his big toe in the fogged edge of the glass. “Why are you being so secretive? That ain’t your style.” 

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.” Craig wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear the mumbled words, but they caught him off guard enough to blink. Tyler was never one to talk down about himself, and the strange behavior sent red flags up in Craig’s head. Before he could ask, the car pulled off the road, parking in a small dirt lot that Mini had never seen. Tyler didn’t look happy when he shoved his door open, tilting his head to the back seat. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

“We’re doing something out here? This isn’t ominous at all.” Mini listened to Tyler’s order and took the thick coat, wrapping it around his shoulders before pushing out of the car and hurrying after his friend. The little dirt path was hidden by a field of wheat, and too many reruns of Criminal Minds made Craig’s stomach drop. Why would Tyler want to kill him? Did he find out Mini liked him? Had Brian ratted him out? He was so going to haunt the Irish fucker after this-

“Watch the step here.” Tyler’s words made Mini glance down, surprised to see the large rocks forming a stairway. Craig took his time wandering up the naturally formed stairs, hearing Tyler just one step behind him. The silence was making his stomach knot in panic, but he tried to stay relaxed while pushing up the final step. 

“Okay, if this is how I die I just wanna tell you how cliche-” but before he could continue, his eyes took in something he hadn’t expected. The glow of a lantern on the table on top of the hill illuminated two thermoses, as well as bags of chips and candy strewn over the flat surface. To the left of the table was a telescope, a blanket, and a book that Mini couldn’t decipher from so far away. But if he had to guess, it was about constellations. While the scene looked innocent to anyone who wasn’t Craig, his whole body tensed, mouth dry and eyes wide. He tried to process it, but his brain slowed to a standstill at the picture that felt ripped right from his dreams. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” Slowly, Mini turned to look at Tyler, whose arms were too tightly crossed over his chest to be anything but defensive. His eyes were staring at the sky, unwilling to let Craig read his face. “If you had a dream date.”

“I...told our class that twelve years ago on the first day of school,” Mini whispered, heart leaping into his throat when Tyler flinched. 

“Well it’s not like you said it changed or anything. How was I supposed to know-”

“No, no! I love this. This is...wow.” Mini took another glance at it before sucking in a breath of courage, planting his feet firmly into the ground to continue. “But I could be diving in a dumpster of Panda’s leftovers with you and still think it’s my dream date.”   

“That’s disgusting.” Tyler finally turned back to look at Craig, though his arms lost some of their tension. “You don’t need to lie.”

“I’m not lying, honest. You can ask anyone, I’m head over heels for you. And I don’t know if you really like me, or this was a dare from Brian or something but...but I want this to be real. So don’t tell me if it’s not until tomorrow.” Craig watched Tyler’s disbelief form into anger quicker than he’d expected. 

“Who takes a date as a dare? This is real, dumbass. I obviously like you too, for some weird reason.” Tyler rolled his eyes to hide his blush, and Craig’s face split from his grin before rushing forward.

“Then I can do this, since it’s a date.” 

“Do wha-” Mini didn’t wait for Tyler’s mouth to finish asking before he kissed him, nearly toppling them back down the stairs without a care.

Because he was on his dream date, with his dream guy, and nothing could ruin his night.