#i wake up and they immediately start consuming all my waking thoughts the only respite i have is in sleep

[lenateliier]

"A family I could truly call my own" what if I ended it all what if chapters 62-65 were my last straw please....

[a-lil-perspective]

How would the Batch react to Hunter's s/o having a miscarriage? (Coming from your recent post.)

OMG ANON.

This made me so sad and like I’ve admittedly thought about this before but having someone ask really got me deep in my feels and this is very sad, I cried writing this, I hope this is compelling to you. This is kind of more from Cyare’s point of view but it does briefly mention the Batchers.

Tw for talk of pregnancy and miscarriage and heavy emotional angst, please take care of yourselves.🤍

———

Surprisingly or not, she finds solace in Echo.

Maybe it’s because he knows loss, a bitter taste on his tongue but sweet and saccharine in a way that makes him soft, sympathetic to her plight.

He finds her after the dust settles, lying in a broken field of heartache, curled around herself in the co-pilot’s seat seeking respite from all those providing sympathy. She’s welcomed a thick shadow of mourn around her, a penitence to go with it.

It reminds him too much of grieving vode.

“I lost the baby,” she croaks finally, when Echo’s silence has tactfully paved the way for catharsis.

His face contorts in pain. “Damn Cyare, I am… so sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, wishing to offer more than wormy sympathy she’s heard a hundred times up until this point. This is uncharted territory for the former ARC Trooper, who suddenly feels entirely out of his element even though Death is no stranger to him.

Cyare’s breathing is slow, dormant, her eyes somewhere far from the present.

“Me too,” she says finally, with a bitter tang.

“It’s not your fault.” The words are immediate, an echo in her ears meant to soothe but merely raucous all around her.

She quivers in it. “Please.” She doesn’t deserve the pardon. “I need time.”

Echo affords her that and more.

He gets up and exits then, leaving her presumably to her sorrow until he returns some minutes later with piping hot tea and a stiff smile. It’s not much to alleviate these stressors, but Echo thinks the potent steep of lavender is a start.

“Do you have anything stronger.” It’s almost wry, if Echo really examines it; whittled humor fit through the mug between her lips. It’s all she has in this trying time, a coping mechanism Echo knows all too well.

“Later; drinks on me,” he promises with only a distant regret. It isn’t his place to endorse unhealthy habits but if it eases some of the woman’s acute suffering then it’s his galactic-given duty.

Her shoulders slump then as a full, labored breath finds her, and she looks forward to the buzz that helps her forget.

She doesn’t want to forget.

Just the pain of not having him.

Her son.

It’s an all-consuming pain; strained and carried through every member of their family, weaving through the broken pieces that she’s at a loss for how to pick up.

Crosshair is too quiet, too unsure, gauging her with a trajectory he’s not sure how to plot this time.

And so he says nothing.

(He basks in his own grief elsewhere; on the shooting range.)

Tech speaks too fondly, with scientific prowess, and an unintentional flippancy that has her thin-lipped and silencing him with a clipped plea, “I need time.” She doesn’t want to hear about the percentages of nat-born miscarriages, vexing biological components that make her fold in on herself further.

Wrecker’s padded embrace is not her savior, it’s not what she seeks, when all she can imagine is the small being robbed of hers. Because of her.

It’s not your fault, she reminds herself, and the reassurance mixes like oil and water.

It doesn’t.

She doesn’t know about Hunter these days, how he fares in the wake of a devastating loss, or if his grief has turned into something accusatory, calloused.

Towards her, she’s convinced.

And it’s a juxtaposition to his comfort laid bare in the emergence of news - he was there with her, sunken to the bathroom floor after the words “I’m sorry for your loss,” reached them in tandem.

She hasn’t seen him since.

Or she has, his soothing presence whispering at her from afar, never too far in the condensed square inches of their home that seem ever-suffocating.

She refuses to look his way.

Even at night, whilst tucking in their other precious gems - of whom a newfound thankfulness for blooms - she is careful to keep her eyes trained on these beautiful home-spun versions of him. Their children are their only vessel of conversation, of which even then is scarce. The bed dips as he moves closer, their band of girls both a bridge and a chasm between. They inveigle him for a story, and he obliges without fail.

And Cyare’s only half-listening, admiring her husband’s dedication while she wishes to be anywhere but here. It’s times like this, as she aims to slip away undetected, she’s reminded that he is strong, and she is not.

“Mommy. Stay.”

The warm, dainty hand grasping her own orchestrates a thick lump in her throat she pointedly forces down. Her eyes sting, and it takes her a moment to finally look her youngest daughter’s way.

“Stay for Papa’s story, Mommy.”

She can feel his eyes on her, but she does not seek an audience. His plea for her attention, recognition, perspires zealous in the air. She refuses to look. To acknowledge the loss.

“Okay,” she whispers, and it’s so frail. “I’ll stay.”

So frail.

So she listens to Hunter’s story, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to detect the weight of his burden slowly creeping through, giving way to a pained lilt even through the “…and they lived happily ever after.”

Something she wonders if they’ll ever have.

His sturdy sonance of words usher the girls into a blissful remiss, unassuming and untroubled by their parent’s turmoil; their minds mellow with a peace she covets.

A chaste kiss to their heads, and Cyare’s fled the room with the hopes he doesn’t follow.

He does.

Because he can’t stay away, because their pain is a shared endeavor, and isn’t that what he promised in their marriage vows?

“I want to be left alone,” she says, at the sound of his lumbering steps into the bedroom.

“No you don’t,” he absolves, moving in a furtive manner. Cyare remains steadfast with her back to him, hoping if she ignores his very presence, like some fever dream the hurt will cancel itself out.

It doesn’t - it won’t.

Hunter’s presence is a conduit of the pain made apparent in finer details; in her threadbare, vulnerable state, she wonders how much their son would’ve resembled him.

She wonders, and she bursts into tears.

It’s alarming, to Hunter; not that he has never bear witness to his wife’s tears, but that they threaten to ricochet off his own. He moves to her swiftly.

“I had a name for him,” Cyare cries.

“…‘Him’?”

It’s the final thread of grief, lilted disbelief shattering the last remnants of composure; his and hers.

As he gathers her close, Hunter also wonders if his deceased namesake would’ve taken after him in appearance.

Hunter closes his eyes and an image slides into place: a boy, with luscious curls not unlike his sisters’. Hunter shuts his eyes tighter and his son has his smile, but Cyare’s kind eyes.

He misses those eyes.

He misses everything all at once.

“Cyare…” his voice is broken and displaced, but so is she, and it’s his job as her husband, her partner, to put her back together again. “We’ll get through this.”

Even if he doesn’t believe he can.

———

Edit: This ask was sent to me an embarrassing long time ago, I’ve had it written and queued for months but could never bring myself to post it (as with most things I write lol) but in light of the recent ask revolving around miscarriages I thought it might be appropriate to just share this little thingy. Enjoy.

[txtuniversearchive]

1 | Dream of The Beginning

He smelled blood.

Soule looked down at his hands. Thick globs of blood dripped from both of his hands. Whose blood is this?

Is it mine? Or the others?

More blood gushed out from his already soaked body.

It did not hurt. Instead, his heart pounded furiously. Soule's lips quivered.

"Hah...haha."

He wanted to cry. Instead, the side of his lips curled up to form a smile.

Soule looked up, dazed.

He saw a huge figure in front of him. Black lumps shimmered and laughed at him.

Soule knew how this would end.

These things would swallow everything that he had and "consume the world." It was futile to resist. It was like a story with a predestined ending.

As Soule was lost in his thoughts,

the black form swirled around him even more violently than before.

Swooosh!

The wind rushed against his cheeks. Despair was approaching.

Soule's vision went blurry against the fierce gust of wind. It was getting even harder to keep his eyes open. Soule tried to raise his arms to shield himself from the wind.

The respite was for but a brief moment.

The sharp wind cut into his skin and made it flap in the air like a rag. Soule could almost laugh at his own desperation against the fathomless chaos.

Nevertheless... he remained determined to protect everyone.

Soule recalled his memories as he hung onto his last shred of consciousness. What he told the members countless times.

It's all right. I'll resolve it somehow...

That was what he had always said. The members would then smile brightly despite their bleak situation. I have to think. I have to think.

What should I do? How can I change my predestined fate? Soule choked back his hollow laughter and glared.

"Huh...!"

Soule sat up. He found himself breathless as a shiver ran down his spine. He looked at his surroundings.

Gone was the wasteland and the black forms from before.

"What kind of dream..."

Soule immediately whipped his head toward the direction of the voice. "...were you having?"

He found himself staring at a slim face with long, single-lidded eyes. It was Eugene.

He could hear cars passing by, Taho talking, and Viken rustling through his snacks. Soule sighed deeply.

Mundanity rushed into his veins as he felt the familiar sensations one by one.

Oh, I'm in the van.

He finally felt relieved.

Soule relaxed his stiff shoulders.

As the tension broke, he found his lips curving into a faint smile.

Eugene's seat was always beside Soule's in the van. Eugene seldom smiled, but here he was, giving Soule a light and reassuring smile.

You don't even like smiling...

Grateful, Soule rested his head on Eugene's sturdy shoulders, which were well-sculpted thanks to his regular workout sessions.

Eugene grumbled as though he was annoyed.

"Hey. Your head is heavy. Move it."

"I don't want to."

"Hey."

Eugene sighed. Soule suppressed a smile.

If Eugene truly did not want it, he could have pushed him away. But he didn't.

That was how Eugene was.

He was like a big brother bear. Although Eugene looked rough and fierce on the outside, deep down inside he was actually extremely kind and soft-hearted.

Eugene had slapped Viken on the back when the latter had first made this observation. The former snorted as he asked why he was being compared to an animal.

Only the members knew this side of Eugene.

He was like a secret shared only amongst them. Soule smiled, unable to contain his excitement.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Hehe. Your shoulder is so stiff."

"Then move it."

"But it's comfortable. Just the right height."

"Seriously..."

Despite his grumbling, Eugene did not push him off. Soule grinned and leaned closer onto Eugene.

They stayed like this for a while. Eugene observed Soule for a while before he commented, "Well, now you're smiling a little."

Soule blinked as though he did not understand. His head slid down slightly. Eugene slightly lifted Soule by his forehead and laid his head back onto his shoulder.

"You were really struggling, you know. You slept like a baby. And then you started groaning. I was about to wake you up when your eyes suddenly shot open. You scared the heck out of me."

Soule sighed. He had been having such nightmares quite often lately.

"I think it must be the stress. I've been having such weird nightmares."

"What kind of nightmares?

"Um. Well, I'm in the middle of deserted places."

Soule slowly began to explain his dream. "I try to stop something, but I can't."

As he recalled the fading dream, the uneasiness began to creep in once again. Soule looked down at his hands.

The sticky red blood that had stained them was now gone.

Nevertheless, Soule's eyes trembled at the sudden onslaught of uneasiness. His vision began to blur.

The asphalt road beyond the van's windshield seemed to rise up to swallow him whole. Soule clutched his arms and began to murmur.

"It's not the time for this. I have to think. Think..."

Just then, a firm but smooth hand touched Soule's cheeks.

"Hey, you. Are you seriously all right? Is it really just a nightmare?"

Soule snapped out of his trance as he was brought back to reality by Eugene's warm hands. He shook his head vigorously.

"No. No. It's just a regular nightmare. Don't sweat it. Eugene."

Soule gave him an awkward smile.

He could feel the repeating nightmares draining him mentally.

He had lost a lot of weight in a short span of time and sometimes suffered hallucinations.

Soule could not admit it, not when everyone was listening.

Viken and Taho, who were less expressive, pretended not to care. But, Soule knew. Everyone's focus was on him.

Just looking a little closer told him so.

Taho's earbuds were out of his ear while Viken's phone had stayed on the same screen since a while ago. Avys, the youngest member, sat with his eyes closed, still pretending to be asleep even though he had woken up a moment ago. Soule found that rather endearing.

As a leader, he did not want his other members to worry.

"It's all right. A dream is a dream. To be honest, for all of us in Star One, reality is scarier than a nightmare, isn't it?"

Taho flinched while Viken almost let go of his smartphone at Soule's comment. Avys's eyelids twitched slightly.

"We're walking on a tightrope here. Everything's on the edge." Eugene sighed.

"That's true."

"No matter how hard we sing and dance, today's market is all for magic idols."

Soule smiled bitterly. They were truly at a loss.

Magic idol.

A new kind of occupation that had not existed before.

Soule rested his chin on top of his hand as he stared out of the window.

Beyond the shaded glass, he could see the road that was as jammed as their frustration.

The shock sent the ground reeling and many lost their memories.

Soule was one of them. Soule had no memory of what happened. It was almost as though someone had deleted it from his memory bank.

Nobody could pinpoint the reason for the change. What was clear, however, was that the world could never go back to what it once was.

One of the biggest changes that had come about was "the magic."

People could perform magic just as they had once seen in movies or novels. Everyone was ecstatic.

The scholars had declared, "Magic shall be the beginning of the new age. With magic, humanity would reach a space that nobody had ever ventured to."

The entrepreneurs had asked thereafter, "Do you conduct research on magic? Do you need money? We'll pay for it. In exchange, give us the rights to use your findings."

And so, with the funding, the scholars did all kinds of studies. But, reality was less magical.

Magic remained no more than a simple cantrip. Most of those who invested in it nearly went bankrupt.

While most of them failed, a few large magic research institutions still remained open. That gave rise to conspiracy theories,

One of them being that "There's a mysterious organization that trains in magic, and they rule the Black Water. Humanity exists only under their surveillance" and more.

But those were merely rumors.

A few years had passed since the research boom died down, when magic had first given rise to a new culture in an unexpected place.

Magic had entered the entertainment business.

Though it had lost its former glory as "a hope for humanity" and "the epitome of human civilization," it had found its niche.

Soule smiled bitterly. Magic idol.

They were on top. Soule couldn't possibly reach where they were. As they were flying across the stage in the shower of sparkling starlight.

The magic idols could sing in extraordinarily high tones and adjust their appearances to make themselves look even more beautiful.

The world went wild at the first appearance of the magic idols, who swiftly replaced traditional entertainers who could not use magic.

While one could still find non-magic idols, this became very rare.

Magic-less idols in the world of magic idols. Idols with limits. That was Star One, which Soule was a part of.

"Soule."

Eugene called out to him.

Soule shifted his eyes from the window.

"I saw this sticker at the corner of a convenience store. They said that they would teach you magic for just 3 million won."

"Eugene, that's just a scam."

"I know. But with our situation like this, it just kind of came to mind."

Everyone was desperate.

If they could use magic, all of the discrimination and condescension that they faced would go away. Eugene scratched his head as he asked.

Just then, Soule could not help but feel frustrated. He asked Eugene,

"Eugene. Doesn't it feel like we're from ancient times?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just... We're like fossils of what idols were like in the old times."

Soule sighed.

"People were criticizing our performance for not using magic."

What? No magic effects? Do you know how much this ticket costs? Is this a joke?

Can you even call them idols? Sheesh...

Can't groups like these just disband on their own? Does their management company even think about making money?

The Star One members became more and more disheartened by the murmurs of the TV staff.

"It's not like it's illegal for not having magic..."

Eugene nodded at Soule's comment.

"They treat it like one though."

"Yeah."

With the public growing colder and colder towards them, the younger members began to go rogue, while Soule began to suffer from endless nightmares.

He was frustrated with the reality where despite their whole-hearted singing and dancing performance, people turned them away because they lacked magic.

Perhaps all would be more bearable if he could at least not have the nightmare. But, the horribly lucid dream persisted.

Or is it even really a dream...?

Ugh, crap.

Soule rested his head against the window. Perhaps it was the chill of the glass. But his head began to clear up.

I should be thinking about what's important.

Right now, what's important is Star One's success.

Soule let out a labored sigh as he leaned against the window. He felt like he was being pressured from all sides.

Soule spoke to Eugene as though he was reassuring himself.

"Eugene, we should do only what we can do. If magic idols are like airplanes, we're like cars. We might be slow, but we should just go as quickly as we can."

Eugene remained silent.

Soule unclenched his fists. Eugene could see small blood drops on his palm from his nails.

Soule quickly wiped the blood away. He could feel the dull pain throbbing in his palms. He did not care. If things didn't work out, he would make things work out. The filthy world. He would show them what he was capable of.

"Just like this car right now..."

Soule murmured as he looked up.

How strange. He suddenly got goosebumps.

What is this?

He did not have time to think. The car had stopped. Soule immediately grabbed his seatbelt. Screeeech.

He could hear a shriek of a break. Everyone lurched forward in the car.

[malevolent-spirit]

ok this has been in my drafts for well over a year and im sick of seeing it so im just gonna post it. first lore post yeehaw

Deep in the Viridian Labyrinth, a clan tells its hatchlings stories of old gods, older than the first dragons. Direct descendants of The Eleven, with powers unparalleled by modern dragonkind.

This story is about a young god of wealth, known for his charm. With his quick wit and charismatic personality, he talked his way into getting what he wanted as often as he did to get out of trouble. He would woo god and goddess alike, having many lovers at any given moment. Not a single one truly captured his heart, though, and he was left with an emptiness that he couldn't fill. He thought that perhaps what he sought was a companion with whom he could share everything with. Yet, despite his best efforts, he never met anyone who rose to his standards. He decided to visit an old witch to ask for help. He tried to coax a solution to his loneliness out of her for free, giving many compliments and promises he didn't intend to keep. She, like so many others, fell to his charms and agreed, but warned that the price was great. The god waved her warning off, and she began her work on the spell needed. The witch needed rare ingredients, sending him off to find them all while she made the necessary preparations. After many long moons of hunting the items down, he returned, eager to find purpose in his life. The witch took the ingredients from the god and dropped them in a cauldron, murmuring ancient words from a worn tome. The room darkened, the air grew stagnant and thick. Shadows danced in the edges of his vision. The space in the cottage warped as colors not seen on that plane in a millennia glittered in and out of existence. Once she finished her chant, she paused to stir the pot. She dipped a claw in the brew, then traced symbols on his face, arms, and wings. The witch’s irises darkened as she said the final word, activating the spell. The runes glowed white, burning into his skin. He screamed in agony, clawing frantically at the runes, trying to stop the pain. He tore long slashes along his face in his desperation. The spell began its work. His skull was the first thing that changed. It hardened into wood, saving only his eyes from the grotesque transformation. Two thorn-covered horns sprouted from his scalp, reaching all the way down to his tail. His screams turned to harsh coughing as smoke pooled in his lungs. Unable to breathe, he writhed on the ground, clawing at the air. The witch peered down at him. In a gravelly voice, she spoke over him, "I warned you the cost was great. What this spell revealed to me was that your heart is incapable of loving another. My magic has given you what you deserve; any love or passion you once were able to feel is now gone. You will be a specter, wandering aimlessly and lost in the pain your greed caused. "But, I made a deal with you, and I will keep it. You will meet your perfect companion,“ She hissed, “but in your current state, they won’t adore you. At the sight of your monstrous form, they will run in fear. Your only chance to heal your heart will be ruined. This is your curse, your fate." Blood trickled into his eyes, blinding him, but not before he saw her blow thick smoke around him. He felt the ground beneath his claws shift as his vision failed. He fell for what felt like an hour, consumed by searing pain and fear, before crashing into water. Intense pain overwhelmed his senses. He thrashed uselessly as he tried in vain to swim towards the surface. He opened his eyes to better see which direction was up, but found that he couldn't see. He sank, his lungs burning, with no way of knowing how to get out. He couldn't breathe. Couldn’t think. He made one more kick before succumbing to darkness. When the god next awoke, he was still underwater, his lungs still burning, his scales still bleeding where it hadn't transformed into wood. He tried to scream, to cry, to swim. His nerves begin to numb after what felt like an eternity, his grip on reality slowly fading. Despite his lack of oxygen, the spell wouldn't let him die. Each time he passed out, he would wake once more in greater pain. Many moons passed, and the magic slowly started to change his body. He grew gills and small fins, and his eyes became adjusted to the darkness of the water. The slashes had turned into scars. His burns were soothed by the cold water, the runes solidifying into what appeared to be gold that melded with his scales. He adjusted, accepting his state. He floated for what seemed like an eternity, pondering his future and his curse, while becoming numb to the pain. One day, he was pulled out of his state by a feeling, a need. With his new mutations, he swam in the direction of the distant surface. He broke out of the water, coughing and spluttering at the sudden change to air. The sun blinded him, making him squint blearily around for any sign of land. He spotted a jungle in the distance, and, ducking his head underwater, swam quickly towards it. By the time he reached the shore, the sun had reached a little past midday, now bearing down harshly. The god stumbled to the edge of the jungle, seeking relief from the light. He laid down beneath a large tree, exhausted and struggling to breathe. The lack of air his gills were receiving finally caused darkness to crawl at the edge of his vision. Several days passed before he woke under the full moon. The curse had made his fins and gills vanish while he was unconscious. There was a pleasant coolness in the air, now rid of the glare of the sun.

The god felt it again, that need, and was drawn further into the forest. He came to a small pond, the surface smooth as glass. He was about to drink from it when he noticed his disfigured reflection. He drew back in horror, claws touching his mask-like face and tracing the gold. He wept, overcome with the loss of his beautiful body, now gazing at his scales, his elongated claws, his maw in disgust. Too soon, he acknowledged his monstrous visage and his fate: someone cursed with the torture of loneliness with no respite. Something in him snapped. His horror dulled to apathy, his fear turned to glee at his immortality. He wanted to test his power out. A rustle behind him made him whip his head around. There was a pack of white wolves, drawn by his scent of salt and old blood. He grinned viciously. He leaped at the nearest one, ripping his teeth into its neck. The rest sprinted away from the god, surprised and terrified at the sudden show of violence. He dropped the wolf from his jaws, looking down in satisfaction. He watched as dark blood dripped from his mouth and claws before returning to the pond to wash it off. Looking at his reflection once more, he noted instead how his old clothes had become torn and ragged, the color washed out. With a sneer, he knew that he was now every bit a monster that the witch had intended him to be- and he loved it. His old love for life and abundance withered, replaced with a desire to kill. His steps were lighter, quieter, making hunting easy. It wasn't long until he discovered clans of longneck and centaurs. Stories were told of a monster in the woods, stalking individuals through many nights before eventually striking. They spoke of the torture the misty specter put its victims through, of its laugh and how it echoed and enveloped anyone who heard it. Nights of the new moon were in particular dangerous, the lack of natural light made for perfect hunting conditions. The tales eventually reached nearby dragon clans, and after some went missing without a trace in the forests, they turned to horror stories told to hatchlings. The god became a legend, a feeling of unease on dark nights. Centuries later, he came across a mysterious dragon, alone in the woods. Curiously, she wasn't weary or anxious as all others were; she appeared to be at peace. She was sitting underneath an old willow tree, her head tilted up to the moon. She had white cloths wrapped around her, a pair of old root-like horns with birds resting on them, and ornate jewelry decorating her body. He knew immediately that this was the companion he was fated to meet, and to inevitably scare away. He no longer felt sadness or loss, however, and treated her as any other creature to cross his path. The mist around him swirled, thickening with malicious delight, crawling towards the hooded dragon. She turned to look at him as he laughed darkly. She didn't cower or scream at the spirit in front of her. In fact, the only sign that she was staring at him was a prickling sensation on the back of his neck that one gets when being watched. He sneered as he realized she was not afraid of him. Well, not yet. Grinning at the thought of her fear, he became determined to draw out her terror and get a reaction before killing her. He didn't expect her to speak. "Why is such a sad creature like you wandering the woods so late at night?" She whispered in a voice young and unimaginably old at the same time, and tilted her head. He was taken aback at the pity, but didn't show it. Instead, his grin widened to reveal sharp, bloody teeth, and replied, "I am afraid I don't see how I am the sad one, when I am not the one trying to talk to the monster in front of me as if it would spare me." He tapped his claw on his chin in mock thoughtfulness before rasping out, "Unless you don't see me as a threat? Oh, that would be very naive of you, my dear. Do you know how many beings have crossed my path, only for them to die in horrific, delightful agony?" He chuckled before answering, not waiting for an answer, "All of them. So, tell me, why are you so calm?" He had come close enough to make out the faint lines of her face, noting her neutral expression with distaste. She was silent, considering the specter in front of her. She was old enough to be able to read the gold runes from under his rags and fur, and knew that he was cursed long ago. She could guess at his torment, at his loneliness and his current mental state. The goddess came to a decision and, before he could act, tackled him to the ground. Thick roots shot out of the earth and tied him down. He snarled, struggling under the grip of the cloaked dragon. "I do not think you know who I am, lost one. Have you heard of Spring? Summer? Of the goddesses of life?" The roots tightened. "Do you have any idea who you were planning on trying to torture for your amusement?" Her voice changed from a whisper to deep and powerful, the trees shaking with her words. He drew back from her piercing gaze, and grew fearful of the goddess in front of him. He was angry at his fear, at his weakness, and scowled, but grew still. She recognized his submission, releasing him. The roots retreated, freeing his body. He drew up cautiously, bowing his head slightly in defeat. "Why not try to kill me if you know what I am? I'm sure you've heard the stories of what I've done, who I am." He growled. She tilted her head again, "I know of your curse." He peered at her before she continued. "I can read the runes on your skin. They tell me of your selfishness, and what it cost you. I assume you were drawn to me tonight because I am the companion in the spell, yes?" She studied his expression, and seeing his eyebrows knit together she continued, "You are fated to yearn for my companionship, but while you assume I will run from you, I will merely distance myself. You will follow me wherever I go, but never have the fulfillment that a close bond would give. Thus, you will continue to be alone in your heart, no matter how hard you try or what you do. The curse will be followed in this way. However, because you won't be able to will yourself away from my side, you will never be left to your own devices. I will watch you and make sure you don't harm anyone else." He knew as she said these words that she was right. He would never be able to leave her side. In that moment, he turned bitterly cold. The ground at his feet grew cold as ice, frost spreading out around his claws. Antheia noticed, and was amused that there was now a new god of winter, but even more so at the fact that he was chained to her, a goddess of spring and summer.

[helenaklein]

take me to your river

The steady trickle of the river creates a gentle melody that accompanies your afternoon. There’s a lightness to the air today, as if the world itself is breathing easier than it has in far too long. Your world certainly is.

Helena’s back rests against a tree on the water’s edge, and her fingers weave loose braids through your hair as your head lie in her lap. You’ve been dozing in and out of consciousness for at least an hour, basking in the simple luxury of your wife’s company. More than once, you wake to the sound of rustling leaves and the sight of slow movement in the branches above you, growing spontaneously to provide continual shade from the sun’s glow. Mirth lights up her entire face each time you catch her; her disbelief and her confidence providing a uniquely endearing combination you can’t get enough of.

You and Helena have yet to leave for any sort of honeymoon, but moments like these provide such a stark contrast to your life together thus far that you can’t imagine time even more rejuvenating.

You crack your eyes open just slightly when her hands still. Helena stares out towards the water, looking thoughtful but lacking the telltale crease on her brow she gets when something’s troubling her.

“What’s on your mind?”

There’s no surprised reaction to your question, only a small smile at the unspoken familiarity you’ve cultivated together.

“Much.”

“Well,” you sit up to reposition yourself further in her lap, her arms immediately wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, “I think we’ve got time.”

Helena hums appreciatively and presses a lingering kiss against your cheek. The warmth of her lips against your skin persists even as she begins to speak.

“Do you remember our first riverside venture?”

You recall the day fondly. 

Those were such fraught times. So much was uncertain. Helena herself was different then, the cloud of hurt and regret that surrounded her so palpable it could have easily created insurmountable distance between you. But it didn’t.

Instead, moments like that trip to the river were a window into a gentler life, a glimpse at the woman she could become.

Your chest tightens at the memory of all you’ve gone through to get here. You wrap your arms around Helena’s neck and hold tight to what you fought for.

“When I pushed you into the water? How could I forget?”

Helena’s laughter comes unrestrained now. You think it might be your favorite change.

“I returned your dirty trick in kind.”

“It ended pretty well for both of us, I think.”

She reaches for your hand and brushes her lips lightly against your wedding ring, “I agree.”

You steal a kiss in the silence that follows. Because you can’t help it. Because she made you blush. Because Helena is your wife and because you’ve found the kind of love most people can only fantasize about.

“I asked you something that day.”

The words tumble from your mouth ungracefully, summoned from the same place of uncertainty they were conjured all that time ago, “‘What am I to do with peace?’”

Her eyes seek something distant out across the water as she nods. “It was difficult to picture myself in the life that comes after war. Growth and repair felt so foreign, so distant to what I knew of my soul. Even now, I find myself asking the same question: what am I to do with peace? There are so many possibilities before us. I struggle to envision what choice is best.” 

“It doesn’t have to be the best choice, you know. Maybe peace is more complex than that.”

The notion seems to strike her deeply, and she looks back out towards something you can’t reach.

“Is this about Chicago?”

Despite her previous insistence on the decision to move after the wedding, the commitment had yet to be followed through in any meaningful way. The two of you went as far as escorting Sophie home before stepping right back through the portal because Helena had told Altea she’d help transport her to potential locations for the future school of magic, and didn’t want to go back on her word. So many things have come up and postponed the move that you’ve begun to consider that Helena may be doing it deliberately.

You haven’t asked about it until now, figuring her reasons justifiable and her faith in you strong enough to share them when she’s ready. In truth, you don’t mind the delay, grateful for the opportunity to mull over the logistics on how the hell to make any of it work. The more you think about it, the more anxious you get. 

You have to go back to work, first of all. Which means job hunting and the whole host of inferiority issues that’s inevitably going to dredge up. You’ll need to find something that will let you work from home, as you aren’t keen on the idea of leaving Helena alone all day in a world she doesn’t know, and something for her to do in general that won’t ask for any identification. And, perhaps most complicated of all, you need to figure out a way to divert the attention that sharing a face with a dead, beloved celebrity will draw to her without asking Helena to disguise herself again.

It’s been a head-ache inducing process, to say the least, and you’ve barely had time to consider some of the pressing emotional concerns you have about any of it.

Helena seemed so sure when she talked about this move before that you haven’t really had the heart to bring up how complicated it’s going to be. You would do absolutely anything to secure her comfort and happiness, even hop dimensions and steal an identity for her. But still, the situation is more stressful than you’ve let on.

“Your world is a wondrous place. Its creativity and progress excites me. In many ways, it is the perfect answer to what I have craved for the majority of my life. Escape. Freedom. A new beginning. A chance to start my life fresh.” Helena smiles as she speaks, her blue eyes locked onto an imagined future. “If you had asked me two seasons ago where I wanted to spend my life, I am sure a place like Chicago would have been my choice, without question or second thought.”

“And now?”

“Now… it is as if I turn to what it represents to me on reflex, or out of habit,” Her gaze drops down and shame darkens her features before she shakes herself from it and meets your eyes directly, “but it has been quite some time since I have let the instinct to preserve myself rule my actions.”

“You said you feared people never letting go of your past.”

Helena repositions you slightly to better face you. You straddle her lap and catch both of her hands in yours.

“Yesterday, I met a farmer living in countryside surrounding Reiner’s castle who had been struggling to attain crop yields comparable to what he managed before the Witch Queen’s army occupied his land. What little actually took root molded by harvest time. I found him reduced to tears, clutching his ruined crop in his fists and kneeling in the dirt. He feared destitution for his family and starvation for his child, a little girl named Maya who just lost her first tooth. He thought himself a failure, and assumed that he was doing something wrong. But the land itself was cursed. I could sense the poison embedded within the soil the moment my palm touched the ground,” her words come more quickly as the story progresses, betraying her agitation at what this stranger endured. “She sabotaged his entire livelihood for no reason other than that she could, that it brought her pleasure to know he and all those that depended on him would suffer.”

You squeeze Helena’s hands in an offer of strength when you feel them start to tremble in your own, “breathe, Helena.”

She takes the suggestion immediately, clenching her eyes shut and giving herself a minute to get her breath under control. When her trembling ceases, Helena opens her eyes and continues, voice noticeably steadier.

“I offered my assistance to him. He was distrustful of magic after having seen the destruction it wrought so close to his home, and skeptical that anything could mend the damage after he had tried so hard to fix it. But he had nothing left to lose, and said as much before allowing me to help. I lanced her poison from the farmer’s field with ease. The look of wonder on his face as the crops still clutched in his hands were restored to perfect health, and that I could so effortlessly erase the evidence of her wickedness… it made my heart soar.” 

The memory puts a note of awe into her voice, her smile lights up her entire face, and you could swear the shade you rest under brightens with the grace of her happiness. You know how much it means to Helena that she’s learned how to help others with her magic. She’s formed a better relationship with herself as a result of it, with the knowledge that she is so much more than her capacity for destruction. 

Her smile fades before she begins speaking again, “there are other stories like that farmer’s. People whose lives have yet to return to sustainable conditions, let alone something resembling normalcy. Many whose homes were consumed by flames and whose possessions were seized by her soldiers, who are still in search of family members unaccounted for, whose minds and bodies are gravely wounded and continue to live without respite. The Witch Queen is dead, but her touch upon this world lingers.”

The statement would make you worry about her if not for the hard-set determination that settles across Helena’s features.

“I do fear what my reputation in this land will be. But should the burden of that fear fall upon the shoulders of those whose resentment is just? Should I extend no offer of help to people in need on the chance that they may dislike me? Is it not the worst of crimes to have great power to make change, and choose instead to do nothing?”

Helena’s voice carries the same sort of impassioned delivery she used to rouse the army to stand with her as she brought back the sun. You can’t help but burn with pride and an immediate desire to do something, armed with the knowledge that her cause is inspired and righteous.

“I have more magic at my fingertips than has ever been thought possible in our recorded history.” She pulls one of her hands from yours, holding it outwards and summoning an amorphous ball of energy to demonstrate. 

Particles of magic dance around one another, a glowing light show contained at the palm of her hand. What she holds then disperses outwards, and when Helena gestures around you, you’re caught breathless at the sight. The flow of the river has ceased altogether, fallen leaves and stones previously strewn across the forest floor levitate seamlessly in the air for as far as you can see. She holds it only for a moment, before dismissing the spell with a slight wave, and shows no sign of strain at the exhibit, if she feels any at all.

“Some of this magic was hers, once. She wielded it mercilessly against the people of this world, used it to impose her will over my body and mind until I thought of nothing but her and how to make the pain stop. I see no greater act of reclamation than my use of that same power to ease some of the destruction she wrought.”

“Are you saying you want to stay here, Helena?”

“As a child this world wounded me in ways unspeakable, and for too much of my adult life I wounded it just the same. But… perhaps there remains a way to amend some of the damage inflicted on both sides.”

“I just want to be sure you’re not trying to make a martyr of yourself in endless pursuit of everyone’s approval.”

Helena releases a hum of recognition at that, and turns her eyes towards the river once more. The sounds of the forest fill the lull in conversation between you. You’re grateful that she takes the time to consider your words, and are happy to grant her however long she needs to take stock of her feelings on the matter.

A chill settles in the air as the sun begins to fall. You tuck your face into the crevice between her neck and shoulder, seeking her warmth as much as you are protecting her with your own. Her arms come around you, pulling you close enough to feel her heartbeat against your chest.

You can hear her smile when she speaks next. 

“There is still so much beauty here. I notice more of it every day. In our view of the sunrise over the village from our balcony. In evening meals spent among our friends, getting our fill of laughter and hot food in equal measure. In the songs the village people sing together while working towards a common goal. In the jovial eyes of children who will grow up without fear. In… in the way Ishara and Asta embrace me as their own. In the dreams and aspirations of all around us certain that there is a future to plan for, and in the knowledge that this is the world that brought our hearts together. This world. She tried to crush it underfoot but kindness and hope yet lives. I see it and I can feel it take hold in my soul, and I know with certainty that this world and I are the same.”

Helena is beaming when you pull away to look her in the eye, and you can’t help but match her smile.

“I wish to stay, my love, if you are amenable to the idea. No thoughts on the matter mean more to me than yours.”

Pride and relief overtake you. The way Helena has grown since you met her still brings tears to your eyes. It may not be a fresh start, or a new beginning, but it feels no less important, no less significant, and no less a marker of positive change. 

“I wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting back to the daily office grind, to be honest. I’d be happy to stay, Helena.”

“Truly?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? And so are our friends. That’s all I need, in the end.” The people you’ve met in this world have filled your days with meaning in a way nothing else in Chicago ever has. Sophie is the only thing from your world you’ve ever been sad to let go of, though you know her place in your life will persist regardless of the dimensions between you. “Maybe it doesn’t make sense, with everything bad that’s happened. But it’s like you said, there’s a lot of good here too. I don’t think there is anywhere, in any world, without both. And we can help make more good. We can be happy here, I’m sure of it.”

Helena’s lips meet yours in a kiss that tastes of excitement and invigorated purpose. 

Your life together was never going to be easy, or simple. To ask for either of a woman like Helena is to deny who she is fundamentally, and ignore the long path she’s walked to become the person she is now. In place of what’s easy, you have what’s brave. It may be scary, and ugly at times, but it’s enough to know that neither of you will ever stop trying for your happiness together, the betterment of all that surrounds you, and the sort of self-improvement that can only be found by embracing challenges head-on.

“If my past catches up to me someday, I welcome it, so long as I have this moment, and the hope of another in the peace we will build together.”

The words ring in your ears. You love their sound, saying them back to yourself over and over as the truth of them resonates deep within your chest.

The peace we will build together.

That’s where you find the answer to Helena’s question. 

Nothing is to be done with peace, because peace itself is what must be done. 

Peace is what you build, not where you arrive at. It is not the hard-earned destination at the end of a long journey. It is not something you can chase, or hope to someday simply find, as neatly wrapped a resolution as that would be. It is the work you put in, the way you try, a purpose you dedicate yourself towards in ensuring tomorrow is better than yesterday.

As you walk back home hand in hand with Helena along the river, you know you aren’t taking your first steps towards a picturesque happy ending.

But together you will make tomorrow better than yesterday.

[nix-needs-coffee]

Torrid Affair - Ch. 2

Anne is unsatisfied with the conclusion of her investigation.

For @aimieallenatkinson who requested a part two. :)

Ch. 1

AO3 Link

Aragon’s knees gave out beneath her. She collapsed face first and sideways onto her bed, legs still dangling off the edge. The energy required to draw her curtains, pull the duvet down, or even get herself completely into the bed had long escaped her. Blindly reaching out, she snagged a pillow and clutched it to her chest. This was where she was going to meet her end. She could feel it in the ache in each muscle in her body. She had never felt exhaustion at the level she was feeling now.

Only two days had passed since her common sense had abandoned her and she had joined Anne’s half-formed, ill-judged plan to accost Katherine to ascertain the cause of her strange behavior. If you could even call her behavior strange. The girl had the cheek to be happy and somewhat sidetracked. This was undeniably justification for a full-scale investigation and confrontation. In retrospect, Aragon could not find the point where her logic had flown out of the window and Anne’s plan of attack took shape as a viable option.

The result of their pounce and scroll exonerated Katherine from all suspicion that she had taken up some secret relationship -- at least as far as Aragon was concerned. Absolved of potential wrongdoing, the impertinence of keeping details of a romance from Anne, Aragon had thought that Anne would allow the girl some peace. Although Aragon was grateful that Katherine had found something to occupy her time and that brought her joy, Anne was left unsatisfied with the evidence.

Somehow, that undesirable outcome meant that the inquiry was still open, and even more perplexing, it meant that Aragon was still involved in Anne’s asinine plans.

The two days since then had felt like two years.

Keeping pace with Anne was enough to run her into the ground; however, the task was augmented with the additional burden of reining in her outlandish ideas. Minimizing the potential physical damages Anne was willing to undertake, let alone hindering her as a general nuisance, took every bit of strength and stamina she had.

Aragon regretted dragging Anne back into the kitchen to clean up her mess. If she had only done the dishes for her she would have never become involved. Now that she had, she felt responsible. She couldn’t allow Anne to run about unchecked. It was down to her to be Katherine’s last line of defense.

And now, after another grueling day of chasing Anne about to give Katherine some semblance of privacy, she had a few hours before Anne would wake up to start anew in her endeavors. Sleep overtook her within moments, legs still dangling from the edge of the bed.

***

Morning came much to soon. Aragon had set an alarm for just a few minutes before the time Anne usually rolled out of bed to leave behind a wake of destruction in her path. In spite of her best efforts, when Aragon was finally able to sit up, cramped from her awkward position and still depleted of energy, she could hear Anne’s clomping feet as they roamed the house.

Opening her door just enough to let the light from the hallway shine through, she saw Anne at Katherine’s room on her hands and knees, face pressed against the floor, peaking through the sliver of space between it and the door.

“Oh, for the love of God. It is too early for this,” she murmured to herself, rubbing her eyes and resting her head against the doorjamb to gather her strength. “Why, Anne?” She asked loud enough to be heard this time, still not lifting her head from the cool wooden surface of the frame.

“Shh! She’s talking to someone!” Anne waved a dismissive hand at her without picking her head up from the floor.

“And?” She knew the answer to her question, but she was trapped in the same script she had been reading from since first signing on to Anne’s exploit.

“And what if she’s talking to the person she’s seeing?”

Aragon was rescued from her next line when Katherine’s door whipped open. Anne, frozen to the spot on the hardwood floor, did not even flinch. Katherine took an indifferent step over her prone figure, and carried on down the hallway. “And what if she’s talking to Jane about having you committed,” she threw over her shoulder.

“I have a right to know! We are family! Families tell each other these things!” Anne, still kneeling, shrieked at Katherine’s back.

“Oh? Do families also partake in stalking, intimidation, harassment, and borderline abuse?” Katherine called back as she descended the stairs.

“That’s literally the definition of a family, Katherine! It’s what we’re here for!” Anne’s earnest face looked to Aragon for support.

Her only response was the sound of the front door slamming behind Katherine.

Anne huffed as she sat back, looking up at Aragon for reassurance again. Regardless of finding no encouragement, her face set in determination to rectify her lack of success, and her eyes glimmered with mischief as she calculated her next moves.

“How many times has it come to this?” Weary and on the verge of standing down and letting Anne run rampant, Aragon lowered herself to the girl’s level on the floor, wishing she could sprawl across the surface and sleep for a week.

“You knew I was never good at maths, don’t test me.”

***

Having sufficiently consumed her required intake of caffeinated beverages, Aragon was feeling the slightest bit more human after her rough start of a morning. She at least had the energy to make an effort to convince Anne that she needed to try a different tack, although she should have saved her breath. It fell on deaf ears.

When Katherine arrived back from her respite with a subtle smile fixed on her face, Anne’s interest was renewed ten-fold.

“Where were you just then?” She berated her the second she walked through the door.

“Out.”

“With who?”

“Myself,” Katherine’s terse answers were impassive, giving none of her true feelings away.

“Yourself and…”

“The bloody Queen.”

“Ain’t that Aragon’s kid?” Anne dodged the hand that immediately swung for her face. “Oh my God, chill out. I’m kidding!” She cowered a bit at the vicious, glowering look Aragon gave her. “I love you?” She offered at an attempt at amends.

“I don’t care anymore,” Aragon scoffed and threw her hands up in exasperation. Infuriated, she walked out of the room, relinquishing all responsibility she felt to limit the damage Anne caused. Her ire lessened when she saw that Katherine had taken advantage of the opening and escaped back to her room.

Her reprieve, however, was far too short. Anne followed her into the living room, spouting off about her next strategy.

***

Aragon was dragging her feet, done in and ready for bed, when her arm was seized and she was wrenched into a room.

Anne.

Of course, she thought.

“She left it out!”

“Who left what out?” Aragon didn’t even want to know.

“Katherine! Her phone!”

“What good is that going to do? She has it passcoded.”

Anne raised an eyebrow at her and flashed a devilish grin, “That’s not a problem. I know all of your passcodes.”

Aragon should have anticipated this. It was entirely predictable that Anne would have sussed out and memorized all of their passcodes. She knew it would be senseless to bother to change it, too. It would only be a matter of time before Anne memorized the new one.

She watched with dismay as Anne effortlessly unlocked Katherine’s phone. The blaring sound of her virtual pet game emanating from tiny speakers made both women jump. Anne made a derisive noise before leaving the game and scrolling through the phone uninterrupted.

Aragon watched as her face crumpled from exuberance to utter disappointment.

“I can’t believe there’s actually nothing here. She really is only playing with a stupid fake dog, and apparently just talking to Cleves. Not even an incognito communication app to be found,” she whispered with such sadness that Aragon couldn’t help but reach out to pat her arm in comfort.

“Why don’t you download Tinder for her? Help her out a bit?” She offered, regret instantaneously overwhelming her.

“I knew there was a reason I hadn’t dropped you from this investigation.”

[hvlfsour-blog]

My Heart is Chained Up (below the sea)

hi from my first post on this tumblr!!!

i write crit role fic and wanted to make some friends while doing so, please check out and enjoy my stuff.

this is my latest widofjord drabble, crossposted on ao3 here!

also below the cut if you’re interested, thanks <3

After the shipwreck, Fjord was alone for a long time.

Most of the time directly after was spent recovering. His wounds deep and slow to heal, but he managed, if only thanks to his newfound skills he was discovering more of each day. Alone became normal, comfortable. The pang of jealousy watching other people out celebrating with family or friends would subside the more time passed. Everything just became routine, easy to get lost in. At least until he met Jester, and then the rest of their gang of misfits.

They were all so guarded at the beginning, secrets hidden under thinly veiled vague explanations. But they were fine, they had each other's back in battle, and that was the most important thing to Fjord.

His patron’s first visit since the group’s agreement to stay and travel together was less than ideal, but he got away with as little of an explanation as possible. Revealing the truth didn’t seem smart with how skittish a fair number of them were.

Ever so slowly, they got more comfortable, more stories and information being shared. More friendships beginning to bloom.

It didn’t stop the ever-present loneliness Fjord feels from creeping up the back of his neck. Not having a true family, and then losing a mentor in Vandran, everyone who knew the old Fjord was gone. Fjord isn’t sure he even remembers him anymore. Since waking up on the shore after that terrible night on the sea, Fjord is someone else. His dreams consumed of something dark and menacing should only terrify him, but they also feel tempting and close.

He wakes one night out of a dreamless sleep, it seems his patron is pleased with the progress he’s making, giving Fjord a respite. The rest of his compatriots are asleep, and he only finds Caleb outside of the tent, giving watch and scrubbing his hand down Frumpkin in a relaxed manner.

“Hey Caleb,” Fjord starts, clearing the sleep out of his throat, “I can take over if you’re tired.”

Caleb turns his eyes towards Fjord, but never stops his slow petting, “I’m alright, Fjord, danke, but please join, if you’d like.”

Fjord slumps down next to Caleb, his back against the trunk of the tree shielding them.

They’re quiet for several minutes, Caleb every so often scanning the darkness around them, while Fjord stares at the just barely crackling fire, providing warmth against the chilled air wrapping around his arms.

“Can’t sleep?” Caleb eventually asks, eyes now back on Fjord, and a small furrow in his brow that Fjord has come to know as curiosity.

Fjord chuckles, “I guess not, uh—funny how that works.”

The furrow deepens, “How do you mean?”

“Well,” Fjord exhales heavily, “Guess I just meant, like those visions of mine aren’t bothering my sleep for once, and yet here I am, wide awake.”

Caleb hums thoughtfully, “And you miss them?”

Fjord’s immediate reaction is, “No-” but then he pauses, processing, “Not intentionally, I don’t think.”

Caleb nods, “Your patron, he’s there for you, it makes sense.”

And the thing is, Caleb doesn’t sound judgmental, as much as Fjord gets a bad taste in his mouth at the thought of actually missing the visions from U’kotoa, Caleb doesn’t show any sign of disturbance. Fjord almost resents his patron for this feeling, like he’s been drowning since the explosion, and the only hope he has at fulfillment is to do what he’s asked.

“But,” Caleb begins again, “I'm also here for you Fjord,” and he gestures at the tents where the rest of the group is sound asleep, “They’re all here for you.”

“I know, I know that,” Fjord says, “I just can’t always be as open about stuff as some of y’all.”

Caleb takes a moment to analyze Fjord, “I know we all kind of came together haphazardly, and we all have our own goals and paths, but this is the real thing Fjord, we’re not going to walk out when the going gets tough.”

Fjord has to avert his eyes away from Caleb’s soul piercing stare, beginning to tear at the grass beneath his feet, “Thank you Caleb, I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

Caleb reaches over and places his palm against Fjord’s knee, “Our lives are full of predictable and not so predictable moments … Beau will wake up pissed off every morning until she’s had breakfast, Jester will never stop drawing dicks on things, and you will always have us to talk to about anything.”

“And the not so predictable?” Fjord asks, with a smile.

“Well,” Caleb says, “We take those moments in stride and attempt to get the hell out with our lives intact, we aren’t called the Mighty Nein for no reason.”

They both laugh, and for the first time in a long while, the creeping feeling against Fjord’s back subsides and instead his chest feels full, Caleb’s kind words have filled him with a comforting glow.

Frumpkin grumbles at their loud noise and walks off angrily to find a quiet spot next to Yasha in the tent.

Caleb chuckles again, “Predictable, see?”

Fjord nods, placing his hand atop Caleb’s on his knee, “Not so predictable?”

Caleb’s smile grows soft, looking down at their hands, he clasps them together and pulls Fjord toward him. Fjord doesn’t resist, letting Caleb tug him close, and closes his eyes once Caleb gently cradles his cheek and leans in to push his lips against Fjord’s.

And Fjord knows he’s not alone anymore.

[your-dietician]

Leave of Absence: A Business of Law Editor's Story of Postpartum Depression in Unprecedented Times

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/leave-of-absence-a-business-of-law-editors-story-of-postpartum-depression-in-unprecedented-times/

Leave of Absence: A Business of Law Editor's Story of Postpartum Depression in Unprecedented Times

Editor’s Note: As The American Lawyer continues its focus on mental health and reducing stigma, we aim to share our own stories and highlight the many life experiences that can impact one’s well-being. 

Some say artists create their best work when they’re in the depths of a depression.

If that’s the case, my daughter is my masterpiece.

I knew motherhood was something I wanted, but selfishly I hurtled into it unsure of whether I really would be able to do it.

When a pandemic set in, 10 weeks before my due date, my first instinct was to scold myself for starting the family I wanted. “You should have known better,” rang through my head. But who could have known? So, given no other choice I rolled with the punches, retreating into the bubble and tricking myself into thinking I had done so of my own volition. I convinced myself that a baby shower would have been a needless hassle, and that time alone was what my husband and I truly needed in our last few months before becoming parents. It’s for the best, I lied.

As my belly expanded to full capacity, I was still unsure whether I had what it takes to parent a child, let alone in a public health crisis. We’ll be all alone in those first two weeks. What if we didn’t study enough and we make a grave mistake with nobody here to correct us? Even after I birthed her in June, I asked the nurse, what if we get home and I forget what to do?

Then, in the darkest moments my mind has seen, a mother emerged from inside me, held her close and kissed her head. I realized in my deep loneliness that despite it all, I had found this one thing I was capable of doing, at least for now. To her, Mommy and Daddy were everything. Accompanying that sense of accomplishment and gratitude was an ever-present drumbeat of potential doom: don’t you dare mess this up.

My baby was a good baby. She slept when she was supposed to, ate plenty—even too much sometimes—and brightened each day with her developmental leaps.

I hope she will forgive me for letting others believe differently. For not correcting them when they blamed her for my exhaustion. “I remember those sleepless nights,” the veteran parents would say, and “I just can’t imagine,” said the empathetic non-parents. Nodding, I would answer with a smile, “she’s worth it.”

Little did they know, my baby slept soundly through the night from just a few weeks old, my perfect soldier. But I never did. I would lay awake and wonder which disaster would consume us first, knowing I would most certainly be to blame.

Mornings were the best part. As the sun shined in through the windows, I and the rest of the world were for a brief moment in sync. This feeling of stupor in which I existed full-time was shared with every human just now waking with the sun. And, reflecting my joy at that moment of solidarity, the baby too was at her best in the morning, cooing and snuggling in her early weeks, then smiling as she learned how. “It’s another great day to be Sidney!” I would tell her. In these moments, I believed perhaps it would be a great day for me too. I would get some exercise during her first nap, and maybe make myself some coffee and breakfast. Maybe today I’ll have energy to read during her second nap, or go for a walk with Sidney when she wakes up, I would think to myself.

But that little bit of alone time during the first nap flies quickly by, especially in those first few weeks.

It starts with an unsatisfying workout—actually physical therapy to help my body heal from pregnancy and childbirth. I was a gym rat before getting pregnant, but now I’m limited by the fear of pushing my postpartum body too far. With each movement, I imagine the awful things that could happen. If I throw my back out, how will I lift the baby? If I overexert, could I damage my fragile pelvic floor? If I drop something and break my foot, it’s back to the hospital, where I could be exposed to the virus, and two weeks of isolation starts again.

My session of underwhelming physical exercise and overwhelming mental exercise is followed by a shower and getting dressed—a once-simple act that is now tedious. Knowing that any second my daughter could erupt into a cry, it feels as though I can’t move quickly enough. Nothing really fits, and there’s no use in buying clothes that will just end up covered in spit-up, milk stains and a whole lot of sweat. So it’s another day, another old t-shirt and shorts. I fold my wet hair into a braid, and that’s it. I consider, for a moment, some mascara. But I quickly abandon the thought. It’s not as though I’ll be leaving the house anyway. I catch a peek of myself in the mirror and try to remember what it was like to get dolled up and go see friends. The only new things I’ve worn recently are the additional wrinkles I’ve grown around my eyes.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m in awe of my body for what it did during 40 weeks of pregnancy and the first months of motherhood, and gratitude runs deep in my soul for the science that gave me a child.

But this person I see staring back at me doesn’t feel like someone I’ve known all my life, let alone somebody I’ve been.

It’s not long after my shower that the baby wakes—in those first few months, her naps were scattered through the day, but the longest ones weren’t much more than an hour. If I’m lucky, I was able to eat some oatmeal or peanut butter toast before her cries traveled down the stairs, and the second part of our day began.

Days of maternity leave during a pandemic are consumed with so much “no” that saying “yes” to the options that remain feels like a chore. Evading the monotony becomes futile. Isolation is a responsible choice, not a red flag for depression. Withdrawal from your usual hobbies is a requirement. Friends can’t see over a phone call, or even a video chat, that showing interest in anything has become a performance. Connecting with other new moms, which was once done at Mommy and Me classes or library read-alongs, now takes place in group texts or Facebook groups. It’s a safe space where funny anecdotes and joyful updates are punctuated by posts that cry out in desperation and run-on sentences, as mothers of all experience levels reach their breaking point and grasp through the socially distanced safety of cyberspace for understanding, even if what they need is an actual shoulder to cry on.

New activities of maternity leave include diving into a rabbit hole when a notification pops up on your phone, warning about another development in the virus nightmare that could be a danger to your family. This hones your mental math skills, as you quickly calculate the probability that this newest danger will come to affect your home. That activity pairs well with another: shutting your eyes when the baby sleeps during the day, not so much for physical rest but in an attempt to leave this dark reality for a moment.

But, be warned, reopening your eyes and leaving that respite when she wakes feels impossible. So you let her dad, who should be working, take a turn at caring for her while you sink further into the cushions, shutting out the light shining in from the windows. It’s another reminder that unlike in the early hours of the morning, everyone else is up and operating. But you, you are useless.

For those first couple of months, I existed in roughly the same way each 24 hours, quickly depleting my emotional energy and sputtering through the rest of the day. My engine got a jumpstart, a momentary high, when I nursed my daughter, as oxytocin rushed through me. Conversely, I came to despise pumping, when I was flooded with a strange sadness. Sitting there, alone and stationary, looking down at the bottles pulsating, I felt like a machine.

Evening was the worst. Each day the cumulative exhaustion paired with a sense of no accomplishment. The conclusion: you are pathetic. Looking across the room at my husband I’d remind myself that he spent the whole day working, then immediately pivoted to help me take care of the baby. I’d convince myself that he probably wishes I hadn’t insisted on starting a family when I did. That he probably feels like I forced him into this life. That he probably would be happier if he had married someone else.

But, like the wonderful person he is, he clearly loves the baby despite all of that. So maybe I should just get out of the way, I tell myself. That way, he can find someone new, beautiful and energetic to be with while he’s still young, instead of being stuck with me. And the baby will have a new, beautiful, energetic mother figure.

One evening, as these thoughts cycled through my head again, it became too much. The thoughts poured out of my mouth, and even though my ears heard them and my brain quickly rejected the twisted logic, my heart ached as the sadness that had plagued me wrapped itself up in a declaration—you and Sidney would be better off without me.

My six-week postpartum doctor visit was the next day. My husband called my doctor as soon as I left the house.

I started therapy, not for the first time in my life. But unlike in previous iterations, this therapist saw me over video call. There was no secret formula to fix this feeling, but I saw this as a step in the right direction.

One way or another, around 9 or 10 weeks I began to see a flicker of myself again. I started wearing my hair down once in a while, instead of yanking it into a wet, knotted braid. I thought about my job, to which I’d be returning in a couple short weeks, and though I couldn’t fathom making it through a day of work and childcare, the thought of speaking with adults about something other than babies and housework thrilled me.

Since my leave ended and I began working full-time again, albeit from my home, I’ve shared baby care shifts with my husband, as well as my father-in-law who comes over a few afternoons a week. On days when it’s just Mom and Dad on duty, we pow-wow in the morning, comparing calendars to see who might take the morning feed and the afternoon playtime, who will be on standby in case naptime falls apart, which meetings are casual enough for a baby guest to join, and what actual work we can squeeze in.

The nice thing about multi-tasking in this way is that there is no spare moment to realize just how tired you are. My worries about getting through the workday without collapsing quickly dissipated in the first week. Surprisingly, the days I noticed my exhaustion most was when I had a several-hour stretch with no meetings or impending deadlines. This was my time to “think strategically,” as my boss encourages us to do during downtimes. I even blocked it out on my calendar. But in all honesty, my strategic thinking usually drifted toward how nice it would be to just close my eyes for a few minutes.

The less-nice thing about multi-tasking in this way is that, despite the distraction, the exhaustion eventually catches up. The breakdowns still happened in the evening every few weeks or so, usually at times when my to-do list lengthened and another unexpected addition caused me to spiral. There are times when I think I can’t possibly do this one more day, especially now that my mini-me naps much less and wants to be on the move constantly.

But, now, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Sidney’s 11 months old now, and her parents will be fully vaccinated soon. We secured a spot at the daycare—the same one we visited and loved two weeks before the world abruptly locked down in 2020. She’ll start there just after her first birthday. Instead of worrying about whether the other parents are isolating safely, or whether the building is properly ventilated, I’m just excited to think that my daughter might play on a playground, learn some silly songs and make new friends.

Maybe she’ll get a sunburn or a stomach bug, and we’ll have to go to the doctor. And that will be OK.

For the first few weeks of my working mom life, I woke up at 5 a.m. a few days a week to pump and get in a workout before the baby was up. I was determined to have that alone time, get back in shape so I could enjoy exercise again, and get an early start at work once the baby was fed.

But eventually, I realized that rush to start my morning didn’t make the rest of the day any less stressful. I started sleeping in later and later. I beat myself up about it at first, having been an early riser my entire adult life. But beating myself up didn’t make it any easier to get out of bed.

So I leaned into it and implemented a new, cozy routine. When Sidney woke, I’d shuffle over to her room and bring her back to mine, where she would have her morning milk in my bed followed by snoozy snuggles. The snuggles only last about 60 to 90 seconds before she wants to bounce on our mattress and step on my chest to look out the window. But for a brief moment, it’s quiet. Then I sing to her, “you are my sunshine.”

In that moment, I try to remind myself that these are the things I’ll look back on in a few years and yearn for. A baby who lights up when I pick her up from her crib. A little one who fits easily in the crook of my arm. The sounds she makes that aren’t quite words, but hold a great deal of meaning.

I never want to forget all of these feelings. And I never want to forget the depression either.

Because someday, I hope, if my daughter chooses to be a mother, I’ll share this with her. I’ll tell her all of this, so when it envelops her, she won’t be as afraid.

Instead, I pray, she’ll see herself in the mirror and know that while the pieces of her have scattered a bit, she is still there. And she is still my greatest masterpiece.

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[mysweetkittae]

For All Eternity

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Sprinkles of fluff

Word Count: 10,767

Warnings: I don’t want to give anything away, but if you don’t like sad things then this really isn’t for you. If you’re still uncertain then just drop me a message and I’d be more than happy to give you more information so you can decide if you still want to read it or not ^-^

Author’s Note: This was inspired by Written On The Sky by @inktae and it is honestly one of the greatest things I have ever read in my life, so if you haven’t read it already then please, please read it as soon as you can because you won’t regret it! Also, if you would prefer to read the Taekook version then that is also available on AO3

Music: I highly recommend listening to this playlist if you can because it really helps to set the mood

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were promised an eternity, you and I, together until the end of time – but I guess forever wasn’t as long as we thought it was. This was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of our lives, but instead, this is it. This is the end.

It had been less than a week since Jungkook and Y/N had come home from their honeymoon, the two of them still basking in the memories of the tropical bliss that had marked the beginning of their new lives together. Speckles of dust had scattered into the air as they emptied the last box in their new apartment the night before, with today being their first day of peace since returning, resulting in a lazy day that was spent lying in bed until the sun had almost reached its peak, reigning high above the clouds as it sat on its throne and watched its children down below.

Not a moment was spent without being in contact with one another, arms permanently latched around each other’s waists and lips continuously pressing softly against anywhere they could reach. Being the more sensible of the two, Y/N eventually managed to drag Jungkook out of bed and get him to freshen up, the threat of no more hugs and kisses causing him to leap out of her embrace, almost tripping on the covers as he raced to the bathroom.

Jungkook soon joined Y/N in the kitchen after scrubbing the fatigue from every inch of his body, munching on a helpless bunch of bananas as she started preparing lunch and tried to ignore their rumbling stomachs from the breakfast they had missed. Every now and then he would put the fruit to her mouth so she could take a bite, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at the sight before him – she was so focused on chopping the vegetables that she kept missing the banana as she moved her head to bite it, each time resulting in it going on her cheek or chin. She would pout at the uncomfortable feeling, but Jungkook would kiss away the fruity remnants from her skin with lips that lingered much longer than necessary, eventually just telling her to sit down and eat it properly as he took over and cut the vegetables for the pasta instead.

She refused, her excuse being that she didn’t trust him with the knife they had spent far too much money on, although in actuality she just wanted nothing more than to be close to her husband. Not being one to deny such a request, Jungkook wiped his hands on the kitchen towel before sitting her on the countertop instead, sneaking in multiple kisses in between chops.

“What's all this loving for?”

“Just because.” He would shrug, heart swelling in adoration for the pure domesticity of it all.

After demolishing their food, plates practically licked clean from the hunger that had ravaged them, they decided to go out for a bit, the day being far too beautiful to waste it cooped up inside. There was no plan laid out on where to go, as was always the case with Jungkook and Y/N, just the two of them wandering around town hand in hand as they soaked up the summer sun. It was a beautiful day for a stroll, the gentle breeze giving them a much needed respite from the stifling humidity of the air around them.

“Y/N, didn’t we need to buy a present for your sister’s baby shower?” Jungkook asked as they picked their ice creams from the freezer in the convenience store.

“Yeah, I want to take a look around first before buying something though.” She replied as she licked the rivulet of ice cream that had already begun to drip down the side of the cone, beaming back at the shop keeper who couldn’t help but smile at the way Jungkook and Y/N looked at each other with such fondness.

“Make sure you don’t get anything ridiculous though, remember we have to travel with it in the car.” He warned as they left the shop, the sun melting away any coolness that had settled into their bodies from the air conditioner in the shop behind them.

“So no 50ft teddy?”

“Unfortunately not, my love.”

“Dammit,” Y/N mumbled, lips twisting into a pout as her brows furrowed towards the boy that was ruining her plans for her future aunting endeavours.

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame your sister for living so far away.”

“Are you sure we can't get it? We can send it by post!” She suggested, clinging on to Jungkook's arm in hopes of convincing him.

“Honey, a newborn baby isn’t going to need a 50ft teddy bear.” Jungkook reasoned.

“They're not going to be newborn forever though! One day they will grow up and then play with the teddy and love me forever and then I’ll be their favourite aunt. Don’t ruin my plans.” She whined, feet stomping unintentionally as they so often did when she didn’t get her way.

“You don’t need to bribe a baby with a giant teddy bear to be their favourite, they’ll love you no matter what.”

“Still…”

“Look, how about you still get a big teddy, but just not one that is bigger than your whole family combined?” He suggested, arm wrapping around her waist after discarding the wrappers of the ice cream that was consumed far too quickly for their liking.

“Fine,” she said as she rolled her eyes in despondence. “I don’t think my sister and her husband would appreciate such a big teddy anyway.”

“Exactly.” He replied as he booped her nose, lips chastely kissing her temple as they continued their walk.

“I'm so smart, you're so lucky you married me. Honestly Jungkook, I don’t know why you wanted to give a newborn baby such a giant teddy bear.”

“Oh really now?”

“Mmh hmm. It’s okay though, I still love you no matter how silly your ideas are.”

“Good, because you vowed to stay with me for better or for worse.”

“To be honest I'm still waiting for the better- OW DON’T ELBOW ME!”

The sun had started to set by the time they decided to make their way back home, hands swinging between their bodies as they skipped down the footpath, steps light with a joy that made them feel as though there were no worries in the world.

They had each other, and that was enough.

***

Jungkook had been setting everything up for their regular movie night as Y/N tidied up what was left of their dinner when the contents of the TV suddenly drew him in, reeling him closer as his heart came to a sudden still.

“Y/N, come here.”

“I’ll be there in a min-”

“No. You need to come right now.”

She frowned at the harsh tone of the boy that was usually so soft spoken, putting down the empty Tupperware containers on the countertop before immediately following the hum of the TV, its volume increasing with every step, much like the fear that had suddenly overtaken her. Jungkook's eyes were still glued to the screen as she sat down beside him, his trembling hands frantically reaching for hers, holding it so tightly that she was certain her circulation was being cut off.

The words of the announcer caught her attention, head whipping to face the dim light of the screen that illuminated the room as their malformed shadows danced against the walls, twisting along the windows and crawling along the ceiling; waiting, watching.

“-reports of an asteroid heading straight towards Earth. NASA have released information of attempting to redirect the path of the asteroid using a Double Asteroid Redirection Test, also known as DART, but as this has not been tested before there is no guarantee of its success. It is not known what effects this asteroid may have on Earth as it draws nearer, but one thing is certain – if the path is not deflected, there will be very little hope. This has been reporter-”

Silence encompassed the room as Y/N abruptly turned the TV off.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Y/N-”

“We have a long day tomorrow – we need to buy stuff for the baby and buy presents for everyone else.”

“Y/N please-”

“Come on Kookie, I'm tired.”

She didn’t speak after that, quickly brushing her teeth and getting into bed long before Jungkook was even able to find the strength to get up off the sofa. She pretended to be fast asleep by the time Jungkook managed to crawl under the covers, ignoring the way he gripped her waist tightly and pulled her flush against his chest, the fear of losing her coursing through his veins. Neither of them got much sleep that night, confusion and anger at the universe running rampant through their minds.

It wasn’t until the first rays of the sun began peeking through the curtains that Jungkook found momentary peace, so exhausted that he didn’t even realise when Y/N had given up trying to sleep and got out of bed. She wandered slowly around their apartment after freshening up, fingers delicately dancing over the décor they had finished only a couple of days ago, tears threatening to fall as she remembered how enthusiastically the two of them had dedicated months to picking out everything so their first home together would be perfect.

Her eyes eventually landed on the food that had been left on the countertop all night and began putting it away, breath wavering with each movement. She quickly started preparing breakfast when she heard the water running in the bathroom, knowing well how famished Jungkook always was after waking up. That was how things were with them – they had spent so much time together that they knew each other better than they knew themselves. Rather than two separate individuals, they were like one person in two bodies, only feeling complete when with the other. Sure, they had wonderful friends that they enjoyed spending time with, but nothing gave them more joy than being with each other, just cuddling as they breathed in the other’s scent.

They were each other’s home, and they never wanted to leave.

Silence shrouded the home that the newlyweds had spent so long dreaming about, the air so rigid in its presence that even the slightest of movement would leave everything shattered, splinters of what once could have been piercing through the softest of flesh. A gentle hand on Y/N's shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts, head turning to meet the morose face of her husband.

“Good morning! I made us breakfast so go sit down and I’ll get our plates ready.” She exclaimed, the forceful cheeriness of her words attempting to mask the truth that had yet to be uttered from their lips.

“Y/N, stop.” Jungkook whispered.

“Stop what? We need to eat quickly so we can go out and buy gifts for everyone. It’s peak sale season and if we don’t get to the shops quickly then all the good stuff will be gone! I refuse to buy anything for my future niece or nephew that isn’t of the highest quality.”

“Y/N please…” She ignored his words this time, placing the plates on the table and pushing him down into his seat before sitting in her own.

The whole time she spent talking as if nothing had changed, making plans of what they’d do when they arrived at her sister’s house and how they’d have so much to catch up on once they’d used up all their holidays and have to go back to work. Jungkook knew what she was doing, pretending that nothing had happened to stop her heart from breaking – as if convincing herself that they would be okay would somehow change the will of the universe.

He was aware that he couldn’t keep letting her be like this – the longer she took to come to terms with the situation, the more difficult it would be for her, but he just couldn’t do it. Seeing the smile on her face, regardless of how forced it was… he couldn’t hurt her like that. All he had ever wanted was for her to be happy, and if that meant playing along with her false reality, then so be it. He listened intently to everything she had to say, hanging onto every word, storing them securely away in his mind to remember her sweet voice until the very end. Breakfast had lasted longer than usual, neither of them finding it in them to do much more than swirl around the runny yolk amongst the crumbs of bread that were scattered all over – a bleeding sun in a sky full of nothing but amorphous rocks.

The world around them was silent as they walked towards the shops, not a single breeze flowing nor leaves rustling. No animals were seen, not even the distant chirping of a bird carrying through the air. They only thing they had to remind them that this was reality was the touch of their hands entwined together. Everything was deserted, the stark contrast to yesterday’s bustling streets giving them whiplash. Y/N was becoming more and more unsettled, the visible effect of the news rapidly breaking down the walls she was trying so hard to build around her. So when she saw an old man coming out of his shop and locking the door ran she ran up to him, praying for him to help maintain her façade.

“Excuse me, why are you locking up? It’s still so early in the morning.” She questioned, still trying so hard to continue with her lies.

“Did you not hear the new last night, dear?” He questioned curiously. “There's an asteroid heading straight towards Earth, so what's the point in coming to work? Everyone’s just staying at home and spending as much time with their loved ones as they can.”

“What about you?” Jungkook asked.

“I'm going back home to my wife now, I left something important of hers here so I came to get it for her. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” He nodded gently and made his way, heart weighing heavily at the sight of the girl who was slowly crumbling to the ground, tears streaming down her face as the fortress she had built to protect herself came crashing down. There was no way she could lie to herself anymore – even if she had told herself that the reporter was lying, seeing how barren their city was, a city that was always so full of people racing to where they had to be, she had no choice but to accept their fate.

Their world was going to end, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Let’s go home.” Jungkook whispered, gathering the fragile girl in his arms as he guided them back to their apartment, doing his best to hold back the tears of his own that were desperate to be set free.

She cried herself to sleep as soon as they got back, not bothering to eat for the rest of the day despite Jungkook's many attempts to get her to at least take a few bites.

“What's the point?” She would say. “We’re going to die anyway”.

It wasn’t until the early hours before dawn that she got out of bed, the brief relief from grief reminding her of her family. Jungkook woke from the constant sound of the dial tone, Y/N's desperation at trying to communicate with her family evoking another bout of sobs.

“Honey…”

“They're not picking up. Why aren’t they picking up, Kookie?”

“Y/N, the phones aren’t working properly. I tried calling our families before but it’s not going through. I think there's a fault in the system.”

“HOW CAN THERE BE A FAULT?!” She shrieked, Jungkook wrapping his arms around her tightly as her body shook from hysteria, hands rubbing circles on her back to try and calm her hyperventilation.

“Just breathe, love, I'm here.”

“Can't we drive? Our families live close to each other, if we set off now we can see them both and make sure they're okay.” She begged, pulling away slightly to look at Jungkook's face that was torn with distraught.

“The roads are blocked. Everyone is leaving the city to go back home – there's no way to get in or out. Public transport is off too – there's nobody there to drive.”

“But our family…” She whimpered.

“I'm sorry, honey, there's no way of reaching them.”

She cried herself to sleep after that, curled up in Jungkook's arms as he rocked her back to a state of oblivion – for at least when she was asleep she needn’t have so many fears. When they finally awoke the next day Y/N's face was puffy and her eyes were swollen, tears from her bloodshot eyes staining her cheeks.

Jungkook tried to give some semblance of their normal routine – kissing her forehead “good morning” and making them breakfast, but this girl that sat before him, she was not the same person that he had married but a few weeks ago. The girl he had fallen in love with was full of so much love and life that even the sun itself would have been jealous at the brightness she exuded. But this girl… this girl was so broken and empty and she could do nothing but remain in her catatonic state, not even the remnants of a smile painting her lips. After feeding her himself Jungkook took her to the bathtub, hoping that maybe soaking in the water would help to bring her back even a little bit.

But there was no reaction when he gently undressed her, his fingers faintly crossing the icy skin that usually burned like the wildest of fires.

There was no reaction when he put her favourite bath bomb in, the pinks and blues swirling around the ripples of water as the light reflected on the flecks of glitter, a spectacle that would normally have her squealing in delight at the phantasmagorical sight.

There was no reaction when he sat on the side of the tub and washed her hair, his fingers dancing across her scalp in the way that would always evoke the softest of whimpers, the sensation relaxing her muscles and making her feel as if there was not a single worry in the world.

There was no reaction when he wrapped her in her favourite purple fluffy towel, hair dryer blowing wafts of hot air as the water evaporated from her hair, wisps falling softly against her face as he pulled her comfiest pyjamas over her head.

There was no reaction when they sat huddled up on the sofa with the movie she could recite in her sleep playing in the background as he held a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, delicately cupping her chin as he tried to get something warm inside her.

There was no reaction.

There was nothing.

The same routine carried on throughout the rest of the week, with Jungkook doing his best to feed and bathe her and overall doing everything he could think of to try and get anything out of her. At least if she cried he would know that she was feeling something, but she hadn’t spoken a word or made any attempt of acknowledging his presence for days, and it was tearing him apart.

The TV channels had stopped receiving signal a few days after the initial report, as had any other form of communication. The only manner of entertainment was the endless supply of DVDs and books they had amassed over the years, hours of endless movies playing just to break the deafening silence. After opening the fridge one afternoon to start making them lunch, Jungkook realised that they hardly had any food left. He wanted to go to the supermarket and stock up on more, but there were two problems: one, he didn’t want to leave Y/N alone, but he knew that there was no way that she was in any state to go with him, and two, he didn’t even know if the shops would be open – people weren’t working anymore, and that meant that food most likely wasn’t being delivered and people probably weren’t manning the shops.

Just at that moment he saw their neighbour from the window, making his way into the building with bags of food in his hands. With the lifts no longer functioning, Jungkook raced out to meet him at the stairs and helped him carry them to his floor, arms quickly reaching out to stabilise his faltering figure.

“Ahjusshi, where did you get all this food from? I didn’t realise supermarkets were still open.” He said as he helped the elderly man with his bags, up the stairs and into his apartment.

“Most of them are closed, but there are still a few open and being run by kind souls who are willing to deliver food and distribute it.” He wheezed, leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath.

“Where is the closest one?” Jungkook questioned, eyes full of concern for the frail man in front of him.

“It’s quite a few miles away, it might take you a while.”

“Why didn’t you call me to help you? You shouldn’t be exerting yourself so much at your age.”

“I know how much Y/N has been struggling, son, I couldn’t ask you to leave her. How is she doing, by the way?”

“She's still the same,” Jungkook replied morosely. “She hasn’t said a word in almost a week and I'm not even sure if she can hear me at this point. I don’t know what to do.”

“You just have to give her time, dear. It’s not easy coming to terms with everything that’s going on, and some people are taking it harder than others.”

“I guess. How’s your wife?”

“She's okay, she didn’t have much long left anyway so it hasn’t really made much difference to her. In a way I'm glad, at least this way I don’t have to spend a day without her. Anyway, I should get going now, I don’t like leaving her alone for longer than is necessary.”

“I understand. Please, take care of yourselves, and thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all, son. I hope Y/N gets better soon.” Jungkook nodded in the man’s direction and made his way down the stairs, hoping that Y/N would stay asleep until he got back.

Despite the malfunction of mass amounts of technology cars were still functioning, although the heavy blockage of roads meant that travelling in one simply wasn’t feasible. In spite of Jungkook having a muscular build it wasn’t an easy journey, as having to walk so far and walk all the way back with heavy bags of food was not something he had ever had to do before.

The sun had begun its premature descent by the time Jungkook had made his way home, not even their source of life being able to bare to witness the dying hope of the world it had so preciously curated. His muscles were shaking as he tried to open their front door, the extreme exertion of his body begging him to rest, to close his eyes and sleep for days on end, but the second he entered the room all thoughts vanished after hearing the screaming coming from the bedroom. He dropped the bags without second thought and ran towards the sound, seeing his wife curled up into a ball at the foot of the bed, head cradled in her hands and knees pulled tightly to her chest, shrieks ravaging her body as sobs choked every breath.

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s okay, I'm here!” He tried consoling, fear threatening to burst through the seams he had so difficulty sown himself together with.

“JUNGKOOK!” She kept screaming, any sense of reality escaping from her as she continuously chanted his name.

“Y/N please.” He begged as he tried to remove her hands that were gripped so tightly to her hair.

It felt like almost an eternity later that he managed to coax her into letting go, the blossoming bruises on her face being revealed as the pressure against her skin finally lessened. He quickly wrapped her up in his arms, rocking her back and forth as he tried to calm her further, his lips permanently pressing against her forehead and hair.

“Hush, my love, I'm here. I'm right here.”

“Don’t go.” She choked, breath hitching with each inhale and exhale.

“I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you.”

“You left me. Where did you go?” She whimpered, curling further into his embrace, twisting, turning, writhing, further and further until she was burrowed deep inside his heart, no discernible difference between their two bodies.

“I had to go get food, there was nothing left at home.”

“You took so long. When I woke up you weren’t there and I thought you were never coming back.”

“I'm sorry for leaving you. It was far away and I had to walk so it took a long time. I'm sorry. I won't leave you ever again.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won't. I promise.”

“I'm scared.”

“I know, but you don’t have to worry. It’s okay, you're okay.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I won't, I won't. I promise you, my dear. I will always be right here. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up, it’ll make you feel better.”

Any aches were long forgotten as he helped her to her feet and took her towards the bathroom, her fear evident in how she wouldn’t let go of his touch for even a second. She insisted that he come in the bath with her, tears streaming at the thought of Jungkook leaving her again. Y/N sat curled up against his chest, the two of them sitting in silence as the water lapped around them, only getting out when it got too cold to stay in any longer.

Dinner was light, the knowledge of the increasing scarcity of food dissipating any hunger they may have previously had. They were huddled up on the sofa as always when the TV suddenly switched on, the flickering of the revived news channel garnering their attention.

“-as you are aware, signals have been disrupted all over the world, leaving no access of contact either through phone, internet, or television. The past few days have seen scientists from around the globe trying to discover the cause of this, finally coming to the conclusion that this is due to the extreme magnetic nature of the impending asteroid, which is disrupting and distorting all kinds of signals. An alternate pathway has been managed to be developed, although this is being reserved only for the conveyance of information to the public and for scientific communication due to its instability and inability to support mass usage. Unfortunately, this means that there is no way to contact your loved ones-”

The already flickering screen abruptly cut off, the sound of the cheery animation they were watching resuming as the alternative pathway already flittered to silence. The tears that had managed to cease flowing for a while resurfaced from Y/N's abused eyes, the knowledge that there was definitely no way of contacting their families tearing her heart to shreds. For so long she had consoled herself with the idea that maybe eventually the phone lines would clear up and she would be able to contact them again, but now she didn’t even have that thought to hold on to. She would never be able to hear their voices again, and that wasn’t something she could bare to accept.

“Y/N, breathe.” Jungkook reminded, his palm once more finding home in the space between her shoulders.

“Jungkook… what the reporter said… it can't be true right?” She said as she looked up to him.

“I'm afraid so.” He whispered quietly, burying her face into the crook of his neck as her pain rang through the air, the sharp cries ricocheting off the ceiling lights and straight into Jungkook's chest, impaling him with a pain that was far worse than any of his own. That night was the first in many that she acknowledged his presence, the terrifying thought of him leaving her breaking her out of the catatonic state and bringing her back into a more responsive one.

“Why is this happening?” She questioned as Jungkook tucked the covers around them, her head resting on his chest as his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, accepting for the first time that their world was going to end.

“I don’t know.”

“The baby was supposed to be born next month. It won't ever get to see this world will it?”

He kissed her head in reply, for no words could ever ease the pain of knowing that a child, a sweet, innocent baby, would never even have a chance at life.

“I wish I could hear their voices one last time.”

“Me too, I want to hear them and see their faces. But maybe it’s better this way – at least the last memory we’ll have of them is of them smiling and being happy.”

“It’s not fair.”

And she was right. They had just gotten married – this was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of their lives, but instead it was being ripped away from them. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

Sleep came fairly quickly to Y/N that night, the panic attack from earlier and the endless tears tiring her out and rapidly lulling her into a deep sleep. Jungkook, however, could not say the same. His eyes were wide open and mind running a million miles an hour despite the moonbeams piercing through the curtains long ago. Tears had become a constant companion since the news of the asteroid was released, but usually he was able to contain them enough to not disturb Y/N.

Today was different though.

The fatigue of his extreme exertion, seeing Y/N in her state of hysteria, and having to accept the fact that they would never see or hear from their families again was just too much. This whole time he had done everything he possibly could to stay strong for Y/N – she needed him now more than ever and if he broke too then there would be no one to look after her. But Jungkook was human too, and there was only so much he could take.

He untangled himself from her arms as he felt a bout of sobs clawing through his chest, crawling up his throat and threatening to destroy the sanctity of the little bubble that he had built for Y/N. He stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door gently behind him, sliding to the ground and leaning against the bathtub. He brought his knees firmly to his chest as his hands gripped his hair fiercely, curling tightly into a ball as he tried to contain the cries that ravaged his lungs, ready to vanquish his very existence.

It hurt.

Knowing that their world was ending was painful, but knowing that he would never be able to see Y/N again, never touch her again and never hear her voice again… it was excruciating. It felt as though every atom from his being was being ripped away, slowly, slowly, until all that was left was a memory of the person he once used to be. He kept a brave face on for Y/N's sake, but the truth is that he was absolutely petrified of what was to come.

How do you even cope with knowing that your planet was simply going to cease to exist one day and there was nothing you could do about it? They don’t teach you things like this in school, nor in one of those self-help books that seem to be lining all the shelves. This was something that was supposed to stay within the realms of science fiction, yet here it had come, seeping through the pages of books and manifesting itself into a grim reality.

They were all going to die, and that was the cold, hard truth.

It was still dark outside when Y/N awoke, the digital clock on the bedside table flashing a stark 03:27. Her breath stilled as her hand searched in futile for the warmth that had been comforting her, any trace of body heat dissipating long before her eyes fluttered open. The spell of calmness Jungkook had put her under quickly disappeared, adrenaline racing through her veins as the fears in her mind exploded exponentially.

The wooden flooring scraped her knee as she lurched out of bed, eyes searching in the dark for her beacon of hope. Her lip began quivering in defeat, unable to see the figure of the one person she was looking for, until her ears picked up soft sobs coming from the direction of the bathroom. Her hands slowly pushed the door open, moonlight filtering through the small window and illuminating the shadow of the boy that looked so small and shattered that Y/N hardly recognised him at all.

“Kookie…” She breathed, relieved that her lover hadn’t vanished, but fearful of his fragile state of mind.

She gently sat down beside him, taking his hands in hers and resting his head on her shoulder, much like her had done to her earlier that day.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, perhaps more to herself than to her husband.

His arm gripped tighter to her shirt, pushing his head further into her chest. Her clothes were soaked with his tears but she didn’t care, all that mattered was that Jungkook was hurting and she needed to be there for him. He didn’t need to tell her what he was thinking – his shaking body made it obvious enough what was troubling him. The two of them remained on the cold floor of the bathroom that night, only the sound of muffled sobs and gentle we’ll be okay’s breaking the silence. It was only when the auburn hues of dawn mingled with the golden radiance of the illuminating rays that they moved from their positions, bones creaking as they stretched out after a night of confinement.

This time it was Y/N's turn to carry Jungkook's limp body through the day, gentle fingertips massaging his scalp as the cool water counteracted the heat that was far too searing for this early in the morning. He was more reactive than her, at least, cooperating with her requests of moving his body so she could dry and dress him. He had somewhat returned to his usual self once she had gotten some food in him, wisps of a faint smile painting his lips as she pressed soft kisses to his face – neither his forehead, cheeks, nose, nor lips escaping the flurry of her love, reminding him that no matter what, they would get through this.

A quick nap had replenished much of the energy that had been spent last night pondering their unforeseen future, the anger from the past week slowly shifting to acceptance, a serene sense of peace overcoming them now that they had come to terms with the truth.

“Kookie.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook responded, fingers continuing to stroke her hair as she propped herself up on his chest, their legs entwined together just like their hearts.

“Let’s go somewhere.” He stilled momentarily, eyes opening to look at the face above him.

“Go where?”

“Somewhere beautiful.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t know how much longer we have left, but I do know that whatever time we do have, I want to spend it seeing as much beauty as I can. There is so much this world has to offer, and I want to remember it all.”

“Is there anywhere in particular you have in mind?” Jungkook replied, his heart warming at seeing his wife slowly returning to her former disposition.

“Mmh,” she nodded. “Let’s go to the park.”

***

They began their walk after the sweltering humidity of the afternoon had died down, a subtle breeze providing some relief from the sweat that caused their clothes to cling to their bodies. Not a single person had crossed their path on their journey, the world seemingly so still and barren of life.

It really did feel like they were the only people left in the world.

Their time at the park was spent sat on the swings, reminiscing on when they were younger and how carefree they were, memories of effortless laughter and flushed cheeks flooding their thoughts. It was strange, being in a park and not hearing the screams of little children as they ran around, their sweet voices sending jolts of happiness through anyone that was blessed enough to hear them. The gentle swinging on the swings left the breeze sweeping through their hair, fluttering through the air as their feet broke free from the confines of gravity.

“Do you remember how we talked about getting married and having kids on like our first date?” Y/N asked, turning to the side to face Jungkook.

“Yeah, our friends always thought we were weird for that.” He chuckled.

“It was pretty strange thinking back on it now, but it just seemed so natural back then. After meeting you, I just knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and start a family.”

“I felt the same way, and I think that’s what freaked my friends and family out the most. I had never considered the idea of settling down and having a family, so you can imagine their shock when I started blabbering to everyone about how you were the one and that I wanted to marry you as soon as possible even though we had just started dating.”

“It probably helped that we were friends first though.”

“That’s true, I think they would’ve slapped me if I started saying all that stuff about someone I had just met.”

“I would’ve slapped you regardless to be honest.”

“Ouch. Why must you hurt me so?”

“I'm your wife, I have privileges.”

“Whatever.”

“Jungkook,” she started again after a few moments of silence. “Do you wish that we had gotten married earlier?”

“Hmm, I'm not sure. Do you?”

“Sometimes. I know that waiting until we were older and financially stable was sensible, but I can't help but thinking about what if we had just gotten married back then instead of waiting for eight years. We could’ve had children by now.”

“Is this something you’ve thought about before, or in light of recent events?”

“Option two.”

“Well, even if we did get married years ago, I don’t think we would’ve had a baby until around this time anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Well we would’ve still been too young to bring a life into this world and raise them. We had to finish university and then find a job to support ourselves, how could we have looked after another human being when we could hardly look after ourselves?”

“We would’ve found a way. I know that we would’ve loved the baby no matter how difficult things were.”

“I have no doubt about that, but we both know that things would be very different if we had done that.”

“Yeah, I know. We definitely made the right decision, but I can't help but wonder what if? You know that having children was the one thing I wanted the most in this world, but now I'm never going to have that.”

Maybe in another life, Jungkook thought, knowing too well how the thought of not being given the chance to have children was the thing that was hurting her the most. Maybe in another life, the universe will be fair and we will have the family that we always dreamed of.

Feeling their words starting to weigh down the air on their shoulders, Jungkook quickly changed the topic, bring up a story that never failed to make the two of them smile.

“Hey Y/N, do you remember the day we first met?”

***

It had been their first year of university, the magic of leaving home and gaining independence quickly wearing off after the truth of student life came crashing down around them. Y/N had been rushing to her next lecture when a certain someone had quite literally swept her off of her feet, throwing her to the ground as her belongings flew into the air. Jungkook had been too occupied whilst talking to his friends, so busy with walking backwards and making animated hand gestures that he didn’t notice Y/N walking past, resulting in him accidentally whacking her in the face and knocking her down, making her nose bleed and almost giving her a concussion.

He had felt so guilty in that moment, looking towards his friends who were equally as shocked in hopes that one of them would tell him what to do. The blood had continued to flow from her now horrifically bruised nose, dripping onto her white shirt and painting the expanse into a brilliant vermillion sky. Apologies continuously sputtered from Jungkook's mouth as he helped to carry her to the nurse, cowering from the woman’s angry stare after retelling the tale of Y/N's injuries. Once the nurse had patched her up and made sure that there were no serious injuries, Y/N was free to go, with Jungkook insisting on helping her back to her room.

He gave her his number and told her to contact him at any time if she needed something, even if it was in the middle of the night. He even offered to pay for any painkillers that she needed to take, but she vehemently refused. Being the type of person that she was, she didn’t like taking favours from people, so in her eyes Jungkook taking her to the nurse and bringing her back home was more than enough.

Still, Jungkook continuously asked to take her out for lunch or dinner or just anything to make up for whacking her in the face, although Y/N declined each time as she didn’t want to bother him any more than she already had. But Jungkook was persistent, and he wanted to make up for hurting her so badly, no matter how long it took to get her to agree. She repeatedly told him that he didn’t need to apologise so much or feel guilty since it was an accident – he didn’t intentionally hurt her so she had no reason to be angry at him, but he begged her to let him do just one thing for her so he could stop feeling so guilt-ridden.

Realising that Jungkook really did feel horrible about this, she agreed to go out with him for lunch once the swelling had gone down, the two of them meeting a couple of weeks after at the Italian restaurant on the other side of campus that was equally as delicious as it was student-budget-friendly. Having a conversation that didn’t revolve around Y/N's injury for the first time, they realised that the two of them actually had a lot in common, leading to the start of them talking more frequently, and with Y/N quickly sliding into Jungkook's friendship group like she had been there right from the beginning.

They very quickly became best friends, becoming closer and closer over the next few months and sharing almost everything about themselves to each other. So when the time came for them to finally announce to everyone that they had started dating, it was no surprise to anyone. Their family had practically adopted the other soon after being introduced to them, so when they found out that they were in a relationship they couldn’t have been more ecstatic.

Their first proper date as a couple was spent sitting in the Italian restaurant they had gone to that first time, talks of settling down and starting a family occurring soon after the starters had arrived. With anyone else that conversation wouldn’t have taken place, and even if it did then it would’ve been nothing but forced and full of empty promises. But with them, there was nothing but genuine desire for commitment.

Whether soulmates existed or not they didn’t know, but the one thing they did know for certain was that there was no one in the world that was more perfect for them. It was as if when the universe created them, they had been made together – two pieces of a puzzle that fit so perfectly together that there was never any fear of falling apart.

So much had happened in the past eight years – with graduation becoming a reality that came true too soon, to friends scattering around the globe in pursuit of their dreams. There had been a few years that saw vast oceans and distant time zones between Jungkook and Y/N, but no matter how much physical distance was between them, their hearts always beat in tandem. They had figured out a routine, with Jungkook waking early and Y/N staying up late in order to catch a glimpse of the other’s face before quickly whispering a sweet good morning/ good night and waiting patiently until the next day to repeat the dance they had so quickly perfected, the few moments of seeing each other being worth the sleepless nights and the constant heartache.

Jungkook had managed to find a job in the same city as Y/N last year, his arrival back home leading to their long overdue engagement soon after. It had been simple, with Jungkook taking Y/N out for a late night picnic under the stars before asking her the question that had never been a matter of if, but only a matter of when. The next year had been spent juggling between work, planning the wedding, and finding the home they could call their own, and though it had been hectic and incredibly stressful, every moment had been worthwhile and full of laughter, knowing well that it would all be worth it once they finally said their vows and started the rest of their lives together.

A lot had happened over the past eight years, but they were definitely the best years of their lives.

***

The TV hummed back to life late one night, the sorrowful voice of the reporter calling them from the kitchen into the living room, a space that now felt far from containing life.

“-we have just now received reports that NASA’s DART mission has failed. Although the on-board autonomous targeting system successfully aimed itself at the asteroid, the spacecraft that was supposed to strike the asteroid did not manage to reach high enough speeds to change its course. Whilst the team are continuing to collaborate with international groups to figure out what went wrong and send out another mission, it is uncertain whether this second, and most likely final, attempt will bring good news.”

No tears were shed at the arrival of the news this time, just acknowledgment as the two of them looked each other in the eyes and gave a small smile. Their slumber was cut short less than a week later, the voice of the TV carrying into their bedroom with a truth that pierced into their skin like a searing blade, the two of them laying in silence as the finality of the reporter’s last words bled through their ears.

“The asteroid is accelerating at a rate much faster than predicted. We have one week left.”

One week.

One week left to do everything they’d ever wanted.

One week left to spend time with each other.

One week left before they cease to exist.

Just one week.

***

They arrived at the forest whilst the sun was still on its upwards ascent, the cool morning air fluttering through their clothes, as if it was carrying their scent up into the heavens, immortalising them in the sky that would continue long after they breathed their last breaths. Everything was so quiet around them, like even nature was aware of the occurrences that were to unfold.

They were in awe of the beauty around them, and when Y/N glanced up to see the sunlight filtering through the leaves, she couldn’t help but tear up. The sky used to be her safe space, the one thing she could always look up at to make her feel at ease, but now every time she looked up to the sky, all she felt was fear and resentment.

Even her love of the sky was taken away from her, and she hated it.

She hated how one by one everything and everyone she had ever loved and cared about was slowly being ripped away, until one day there would be nothing left.

Jungkook saw her progressively drifting away into her fears, eyes glistening as they continued staring through the foliage and at the floating clouds. Everything looked just like it always had, but nothing was the same. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her ear close to his beating heart to help ground her and bring her back.

“It’s okay, we’ll be okay.” He repeated, again and again like a chant, perhaps hoping that if he said it enough times it would come true.

Once calmed down they resumed their walk, stumbling upon a stream an hour or so later, the two of them dipping their toes in shallow water. It was mesmerising, watching the water ripple as the wind caressed it and the fish swam against the flow.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook questioned, noticing the furrowed brows on Y/N's face.

“Do you think they know? That the world is going to end, I mean.” She responded, feet swirling in the water as tiny splashes landed on her legs.

“I think so, animals have very strong intuition.”

“I don’t think any amount of intuition could predict an asteroid flying into a planet.”

“No, but I'm sure they know that something is wrong. It probably explains why we hardly see animals anymore – the asteroid is so magnetic that it’s probably messing with Earth’s natural forces and they can sense it.”

“Why are they still swimming then?” She wondered. “What's the point if they know that they're going to die?”

“We all have to die someday, some just earlier than others. It’s harder for us to come to terms with that because we’re humans and we perceive time so differently to other animals, but it’s all just relative. We’re born, we live, and then we die. And it’s ironic really, but death is the only certainty in life. There's no guarantee that you'll be born once you're conceived, only that one day you'll die. And whether that’s still in the womb, shortly after birth, or even a hundred years later, we all face the same fate.”

“What's the point in existing then? Why bother?”

“Why not?” He countered. “There doesn’t always have to be some extravagant reason for being alive, just the fact that you are is more than enough. Sure, our particular end isn’t something we ever thought it would be, but it is what it is. We just have to accept it.”

“How are you so calm about this? Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of course I am, I'm absolutely terrified. But as someone wise once told me, ‘don’t be so angry at the world, the only person you'll hurt is yourself’.”

“What idiot told you that?” She scoffed.

“You did.” She looked at him in confusion, face scowling at the missing memory.

“Do you not remember? You told me that years ago and it’s something I've held on to ever since.”

“Oh yeah,” she said as her words started coming back to her. “I told you that after you injured your leg and had to drop out of athletics. You were so angry back then.”

“I know, it was awful. I loved athletics so much but I had to quit just as I was about to compete in nationals. I hated the world for being so harsh and I was so angry and bitter all the time.”

“That was not a fun time. I was so worried about you.”

“I know, I still feel bad for everything I put you through. But what you said to me, it really changed my perspective. I’d always had quite the temper, taking it out on other people and the world when things didn’t go the way I wanted them to, but you were right in that being angry at the world was doing nothing but hurting myself. What's happened has happened and no amount of screaming and crying is going to change that, so the best thing to do is to accept it and figure out where to go from there.”

“I'm surprised you still remember that.”

“I told you, it helped me more than you know. You must’ve noticed how much I mellowed out after that.”

“That’s true, you weren’t such an angry young man all the time.”

“It’s the only way I'm able to stay relatively sane throughout this whole mess. The asteroid is coming and no amount of crying and anger is going to change that. We might as well just try and enjoy what time we do have left and be grateful that we at least got an advance warning.”

“If only eighteen year old Kookie could hear you now, he would be shocked.”

“I think he would be more shocked at knowing that he married you to be honest. He’d probably faint from joy.”

“Mmh. Regardless of how messed up everything is, I'm glad I have you Kookie.”

“I'm glad I have you too Y/N.”

***

The next trip was to the beach, the salty air infiltrating their nostrils and the sand somehow managing to find its way into crevices they didn’t even know existed. Seeing an empty beach despite it being the height of summer left a metallic taste in their mouths, the lifeless sight all around them leaving a nauseous feeling crawling in their stomachs.

They turned to choose a spot in the endless sand, eventually settling for the more moist areas nearer the water. The first few hours were spent building a sandcastle kingdom, the sand being the perfect consistency to stick together without external support. Y/N couldn’t help but doubling over in laughter after Jungkook kept trying to make miniature horses to roam around the kingdom, getting more and more frustrated each time he failed and whined like a small child, finally giving in when he realised that despite his artistic prowess, he simply wasn’t able to make them look like anything other than deformed blobs.

The two of them took to the water as the midday heat became overbearing, moaning in relief as the cool water soothed their reddening skin. Y/N quickly took residence on Jungkook's back, saying that it was because she didn’t like the seaweed touching her, though they both knew that the real truth was that she was afraid that he would disappear, drifting off to sea and leaving her all alone. He soon turned her around so their foreheads were pressed against each other, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as her arms perched on the back of his neck.

“This reminds me of our honeymoon.” He muttered as he took a deep breath in, her ocean infused scent rushing into the air in his lungs, diffusing through his body and taking root in every fibre of his being.

“Me too, it was so much fun.”

“The water was so nice at that beach, it was so clear and warm.”

“It felt like a dream, honestly. It was magical.”

“I wish we could go back and stay there forever. Just the two of us there, always in that blissful honeymoon phase.”

“We’d get bored of it eventually though wouldn’t we?” She questioned, fingers brushing the wet strands of hair out of Jungkook's eyes.

“I don’t think I could ever get bored of you.” He whispered on her lips, such a slight touch, but full of so much love.

“I don’t think I could ever get bored of you either.” She whispered back, the two of them momentarily transported back to a time and place where everything was as perfect as it could be.

Maybe they should have realised back then that something was going to happen, for the universe was never one to be so kind as to give so much happiness without taking something in return.

Their return to the shore saw a rush of fingertips scrambling to find the prettiest of shells or sea glass to gift to their lover, a declaration of affection so full of the innocence that their love encompassed that not even the waves could resist taking part in it, parting as their footsteps trod closer to the edge, revealing its trove of treasures that it had so preciously hidden from the world.

But no matter how much they tried to distract themselves with the fun of playing in the sand and sea, there was the constant knowledge that no matter how many times they tried to engrave their names in each grain of sand, it would never be enough.

Their world was ending, and one day soon they would simply cease to exist.

The onset of the cool evening air prompted the pair to make their way back home, thankful that with the masses abandoning the city to try and return to their hometowns, the streets within the city had almost been emptied, allowing at least some usage of the car. As they approached the edge of the beach they spotted a family with young children, playing in the sand as if there was nothing to fear. Deciding to go up to them, Jungkook and Y/N were greeted with big smiles as they introduced themselves.

“It’s been so long since we saw anyone else, it was really starting to feel like we were the only ones left in the city.” The mother declared, eyes darting to make sure her children didn’t hurt themselves as they ran off to play in the sand.

“Most people left within the first few days so we probably are one of the few ones left to be honest.” Jungkook answered, eyes softening at seeing Y/N smile as the two siblings ran as fast as their little feet could carry them to the sea to collect water in their buckets.

“How old are they?” Y/N asked, sight still trained on the children.

“Two and four. It was supposed to be their birthdays in a few weeks’ time.” The father smiled bitterly, taking his wife’s hand and faintly pressing it to his lips.

“Do… do they know?” Y/N questioned wearily, fingers subconsciously grasping for Jungkook's arm to balance her wavering body.

“No, we just told them everyone was on holiday so that we could celebrate their birthdays early. We didn’t want their last days to be full of fear, we wanted them to be happy for as long as they possibly could.”

They silently bid the family goodbye after that, Jungkook taking Y/N away as she started tearing up again, sobbing repeatedly as she kept looking back with “they're just children, they don’t deserve this.”

Nightmares haunted her throughout the day, leaving her trapped in her thoughts as the sounds of thousands of screaming children plagued her mind. She kept trying to go to them, to calm them down and tell them that everything would be okay, but no matter how much she lied she would never be able to save them. No matter how hard she tried, the outcome was always the same. These sweet, innocent children that had never even been given a chance at life were already having it ripped away, snatched before they even managed to grasp at its strings, and for what? Because the universe had decided to play the cruellest joke of them all?

It wasn’t fair.

She had never been a believer of blissful ignorance, but if it meant that those children could spend their last days in peace, she would spin an intricate web of lies if she could, cocooning them in her embrace and protecting them from the harsh realities of the world that they were far too pure for.

***

The night before that day arrived all too soon, and Jungkook and Y/N spent every second they could with each other, knowing far too well that after tomorrow there would be nothing. The soft moonlight flooded their bedroom as it shifted through the curtains, caressing their skin with the soft touch of a mother, kissing her children a final goodbye. Their peaceful breaths as they lay huddled beneath the covers was the only sound that resonated throughout their home, Y/N snuggling up to Jungkook as her nose nuzzled his neck.

“You smell so nice.” She hummed, burrowing deeper, deeper into his heart.

“You always say that but you never actually tell me what I smell like.”

“Hmm…” She pondered, formulating the words that had sat at the tip of her tongue for so many years, just waiting to be set free and lay home in the heart of the soul they truly belonged in. “You smell like vanilla – sweet, and always so comforting.”

But it was more than just that.

Every time she smelled his scent she automatically felt so safe and warm and full of love. He made her feel as though she could conquer the world, and with Jungkook by her side, she probably could. He made her feel alive, and whenever she was with him – she was home.

They didn’t try and hide their tears from one another, instead, Jungkook kissed the dew drops from the corners of her eyes, wiping away her pain and replacing it with a temporary promise of security.

“Sleep, my princess. I love you so much.”

“As I do you, my prince.”

They woke up early the next morning, and even though the world was utterly silent and the air the heaviest it had ever felt, the two of them were oddly at peace. They had finally come to accept what was to happen, and they were just grateful that despite it all, at least they had each other and would be by each other’s side until the very end.

They had dressed in their finest clothes, eyes glistening as they lay out a multitude of quilts and pillows in front of the living room window, the perfect position to view the sky and feel the sunrays seep through their skin for the very last time.

“Will it hurt?” Y/N asked, holding onto Jungkook a little tighter as they buried themselves further into the warmth of the duvets around them.

“No, my dear. You won't feel a thing.” He muttered against her cheek, feeling the heat radiating from her skin.

“I'm glad, I don’t want you to be in pain.” Jungkook smiled solemnly at her words, for even at a time like this she thought of others before herself.

“You know,” she whispered, for the words that were to be spoken were not for the universe to hear – they did not deserve to witness such words of the love they were taking away too soon – they were for the ears of her love and her love alone. “There are many things that I regret in my life. People I wish I had kept in touch with, opportunities I wish I had taken, choices I wish I hadn’t made, but there is one thing that no matter what happens, I will never regret – and that is you. Every moment in my life and every choice I have ever made brought me to you, and for that I will always be grateful. The world may be ending, but I will never stop loving you. I will love you, now and in every lifetime – for all eternity.”

“And I will love you, for you are my soulmate and the very reason I breathe. I will always find you, my love, now, and for all eternity.”

They lay entwined in each other’s arms, never once looking away from their love before them as they took in as much of each other as they could, perhaps hoping that if they looked long enough the image would be imprinted in the back of their eyes.

The air rang with the sounds of impact all around them, the ground shaking beneath them as the world slowly fell apart; pillars of ash rising to the heavens as towers of fiery flames engulfed the sky.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were promised an eternity, you and I, together until the end of time – but I guess forever wasn’t as long as we thought it was. This was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of our lives, but instead, this is it.

This is the end.

[layla-qhuinn]

Layla's Needing

Layla: *I awoke some time before the shutters opened, hot and uncomfortable. Qhuinn was wrapped around me, his muscular limbs protecting me even in his sleep. Smiling, I carefully extracted myself from his embrace, love truly filling my heart, and went to relieve myself. My thoughts going back to when he and I first found each other. Both orphaned and lost in the world. He showed me this side. He showed me how things work from the TV to the toaster, which I may have burnt a whole loaf once or twice. He showed me how to fight off an attacker if needed. But most importantly, he showed me that I am more than just a Chosen. As I finished my business, I stood, and immediately fell back down, my head swimming. A rush of heat spread over my body and the feeling of a dagger being stabbed in my womb overtook me. I fell to the tile floor,seeking its coolness against my fevered skin. My needing…no this can’t be happening. Yet as my body strained against the throbbing pain, I knew it was. I cried out as another wave hit, tears streaming down my cheeks. I reached for anything I could find, balling up a discarded towel and placing it between my thighs, desperately seeking even a moment of relief.*

Qhuinn: [mismatched eyes fly open when I hear Layla’s scream. At first I’m caught in that state somewhere between sleep and wake, but the sound of pain had me jumping out of bed and rushing over to the bathroom. My eyes practically go /deer in the headlights/ when I hit the wall of scent telling me that my beloved butterfly was indeed in her needing] Lay… [I swallow twice to get some kind of control even as my dick hardened at the rush of her scent calling to me] Layla… [kneeling down I scoop her up bridal style off the cold floor and feel the burn of her too hot skin against mine. Carefully I carry her back to our bed and lay her down hoping the cool of the sheets would grant her a moment of respite from the pain. Then glances down into her face meeting her pained gaze with mine] Let me help you. Please.

Layla: *My body seizes when Qhuinn enters the bathroom, my womb throbbing for him. I hiss as he lifts me, my skin sensitive to touch. Once he lays me down, I have a brief moment of clarity. His eyes come into focus and his voice soothes my soul. For the shortest of moments I can think. He wants to service me, or at least I think he does.* Help me Qhuinn, by drugs or you, but please help me. * Another rush of heat covers my skin, sweat beading on my flesh. The pain increases. I thrash against the pillows and covers, shoving them off the bed. Curling on my side, I bite my cheek trying not to cry out.*

Qhuinn: I will see to all your needs. [Layla’s skin was hot and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. The sight was breathtaking but the fact she was in pain grabbed hold of my heart and my dick as another wave of her scent washed over me making my balls literally ache] I’ve got you, butterfly. [easing a finger inside her exposed core finding out just how wet she was I curl up behind her. Using my slickened finger to lubricate my throbbing shaft before guiding it to her wet slit and pushed inside from behind her. My hand gripping her hip as I push deeper inside her to pull back and slam back sharply so that I’m balls deep within the female I love. Her need my focus as I let go and savor the feel letting her succulent scent and heat engulf me knowing this night would take us into tomorrow and possibly the next]

Layla: *I cry out when his length thrusts into my heated core,the intrusion causing my walls to clamp down around him and spasm hard. My back arches into his chest, my legs shake with the force of my orgasm. My fangs punch down, needing to feed. Hungrily I pull his wrist to my mouth and puncture his vein. His dark wine sliding down my parched throat causing a moan to bubble up from me. Needing more of him, I push my hips back to his, wanting him as deep as he can go, the fire raging in me needing to be quenched by what only he can give me.*

Qhuinn: [hissing when your fangs pierce into my wrist just as her orgasm washes over my throbbing length is indeed a heady mixture. Your liquid coating my balls so that the next thrust has them slapping your clit. My right arm pinned beneath your side shifts as I press closer then grasps your right breast kneading the soft fullness before pinching your hardened nipple between thumb and forefinger. Your tight walls and heat making thought harder than normal as I continue to thrust my hips in rapid succession giving you all I can while growling in your ear] Take all you need, Leelan. [my bonding scent flaring to fill the room with mixture of it amid that of our sex just before I yell as my seed spills deep into your womb coating you completely but my dick never loses its hardness as your body calls to mine wanting more and by the Scribe you will have it. A finger sheen of sweat beads on my skin as I shift keeping you on your side with my right hand gripping your hair while my hips slam down and I grind a hip bone against your swollen clit]

Layla: QHUINN!!!!! *The moment your seed fills my womb, the fire calms and I can take a deep breath. Turning so I can look in your eyes, sweat mixing with tears. It is then that fear grips me. What if we were to conceive a young? Words spill from my mouth fast, the need to know how you felt about it consuming just as the fire started again* What if I conceive your young this night? As much as I love you, I do not wish to put you in this predicament. So if you do not wish a young, please say so now and get me drugs. I fear I cannot hold out before another wave strikes. *With your length still hard inside me and the friction on my sensitive numb, I can’t help but to buck against you, the heat slowly rising to consume me again.* What is your wish Nallum?

Qhuinn: [I vaguely make out your words and they pour cool water on my nerves long enough to form words] If we are granted the gift of a young then they will be loved like no other could be. I want… young… with no one but you. -the steady rise of heat inside your core along with the scent sends any jitters inside me flying out the closest window as I draw my hips back so just the head of my dick is inside you then drives my hips forward slamming hard enough that the bed groans beneath the force]

Layla: *Your words calm my racing heart. Wanting to look in your eyes, I twist so that I am fully under you. Pulling your face to mine, I kiss you deeply, knowing we will through this together. Arching my back, my slick sex pulls your rock hard length deeper inside, milking what you can give me. Wave after wave hits my body from all angles. My body feels like I am bathing in fire. Dragging my nails down your broad back, drawing blood, before I take the vein on your neck. Your blood and seed giving me all I need.* My warrior, I would be honored to carry your young.

Qhuinn: [hooking your knees over my forearms I start thrusting deeper. My length balls deep inside your fiery core so that I feel the walls milking my shaft urging for more of my seed and my body answers the call as with one more thrust I unload again inside you coating your already dripping wet womb with my release. The force of my release doesn’t sate your needing and my dick never loses its thickness] I love you. [my lips claiming yours as my hips begin thrusting anew in time with the thrusts of my tongue inside your mouth. The claiming was mutual as my bonding scent roars back to life bathing your skin while your core works my shaft]

Layla: *the bed creaks and moans with us, shaking with the force you are pounding me with. Each release from you calming and yet igniting the fire inside me. I wrap my arms around your neck, my fingers pulling your short hair. I feel as though I can’t get enough of you. Our bodies slap together, sweat making it impossible not to slide along what sheets still covered the mattress. I don’t think its possible to come again, but my body craves release. I work myself as close to your hips as I can,my sensitive clit needing the friction of your pelvis. Crying out, my sex tightens around your shaft again, pulsing my release, covering your length and balls* Oh Scribe! I can’t stop….I can’t! QHUINN!! *another climax washes over me, my body burning. I don’t know how long its been but I didn’t know how much more I could possible take either. One release rolled into the next without reprieve.*

Qhuinn: [every pulse of your inner walls ignited me to thrust harder and deeper. I wasn’t sure how you’d be able to move after this or for that matter me, but I’d face it with you. Grinding against your swollen clit with my pelvis with every strike needing your release and getting it over and over. I’d lost count of the number of times we’d actually orgasmed as one rolled into another and your screams echoed with every one until I was sure you were hoarse. My own grunts, pleas and cries of pleasure joining yours as every release poured my seed deep inside you to fill you up again and again. But my balls only seemed to ache anew as your heat demanded more and damned if I wasn’t going to give you what you needed as day turned to night and night into day. I grab the headboard arching up so the sweat runs down my chiseled chest and my mismatched eyes can watch every emotion cross your beautiful face while your nails claw at my back while I pound my hips against yours. I can feel the tremble starting in your toes and working its way up your legs before the heat swells inside your core once more] Let go, butterfly. D.. don’t hold back. [every word was gasped out between breaths as I focus on you and the heat surging between us]

Layla: *My eyes never leave yours except when my release claims me or I take yet another vein. I watch you, seeing the love for me shining in the blue and green orbs. My fangs are permanently descended to the point of pain unless in your strong flesh. Turning my head, I latch onto your wrist, drinking greedily from your vein. Your blood mixing with mine and the heat covering my body spur another release. My cries of pleasure muffled by my drinking. Some time later, hours or days I am not sure, my body slowly cools down. My legs tremble from exertion. My arms heavy like lead. It is then that I reach up for your neck, pulling you down to me and kiss you deeply.* My warrior, thank you for caring for me.

Qhuinn: [each time your fangs pierce my skin I let out a hiss of pain and pleasure while keeping my hips moving in a steady rhythm working us through every high and low until the fires recede and we are able to think clearly] I will always be here or you, butterfly. [I feel the tremor of exhaustion start in my forearms so I roll to one side pulling myself free of the warmth of your core with a solitary groan. My body feels leaden but I manage to curl an arm around your shoulders limply to draw you close to my side] Whatever may come know I am here for you.

Layla: *snuggling close to your side, I lay my arm and my leg over your body. A smile crosses my lips at what we just shared. I could think of no other male I would want to share a young with than you. I sent a silent prayer to the Scribe Virgin that she would bless us with a young and a healthy pregnancy if so be it. I place a soft kiss over your heart, my eyes closing from the hours we spent satisfying each other, dreaming of the young that could be.*

[lifewithoutmeds]

october 7

her name is LA.

she’s from louisiana.  outside of new orleans.  she has strong opinions, and self proclaims that she cusses like a pirate.

she’s been tired these days.  the day long week long, three-months long class has been weighing on her, and her classmates aren’t helping.  i want to offer her respite, but i don’t want to sound as desperate as i feel.  that would be just awful.

i texted her over an hour ago.  i’ve looked it over repeatedly, anguished over the passing minutes, shared with two friends, asking for advice, asking for solace, and though some was found and some memes chuckled at, the minutes tick on and the likelihood of a meeting today grows dimmer and dimmer.

gotta focus on other things.

yesterday was a good day.

ate my usual cheesy eggs with green sauce, and a nice cup of demitasse americano.  played some super puzzle fighter.  washed the dishes, a few times, even getting to the pot and pan that usually just hang out on the stove.  i swept parts of the floor, cleaned my room some, took out recycling and trash, texted LA, watched some bojack, started a new zane grey book.  very productive.  oh, i even studied some income stuff for the upcoming specialist test.  that made me feel quite proud of myself.  i think i studied for 30 minutes, which is good for me, and it was only somewhat interrupted.

LA mentioned yesterday that she had ordered some vegan cheesecake and that it was gross.  i immediately thought i would deliver her some quality cheesecake, either from a bakery nearby that specialized in it or just the good ol’ standby Cheesecake Factory.  but it was late and i decided to wait until the morning.  the problem is we’ve only messaged/texted.  i think we started our messaging on monday and exchanged numbers and started texting wednesday evening.  today is saturday morning.  is it too early to make a cheesecake delivery?  real cheesecake, literal cheesecake, not weird lesbo code.  

so i confided with two friends who said hey, too early, do not go over there unannounced, and show up with cheesecake.  bring cheesecake to your first meeting with her, as a thoughtful gesture of how you listened to her, but not just randomly without ever having met her, not just as a delivery/drive thru when you don’t get a chance to really meet.

but the idea was already planted and i wanted to do it.  so i texted her this morning as late as i could allow myself, which was three minutes before 10:00 am and it is now 11:23 and she has not responded.  all i texted was hey, good morning, hope i’m not waking you, in the hopes she would immediately respond and we could organize a quick coffee date where i could show up with said cheesecake, possibly in a small cooler so it’d still be cool by the time our coffees had been consumed.  but again with each growing 

she literally just texted me.

shit. to be continued.

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Taking a Pump Vacation

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/taking-a-pump-vacation/

Taking a Pump Vacation

Right now, I'm on vacation. To be more specific, I'm on an insulin pump vacation.

Which, to be honest, it's not much of a vacation (still have the ole diabetes to contend with!).

What is a pump vacation? It's taking a break from wearing an insulin pump for short period of time. I'm not switching back to shots permanently, although I do know of people who have done so after taking a pump vacation. Sometimes it's done because absorption isn't working well due to overused skin "real estate"; sometimes it's done seasonally (the freedom to wear dresses and skimpy bathing suits, for example); and sometimes it's done in advance to prevent damage to an insulin pump, like for a rafting trip. Some people even do it every weekend!

My pump vacation started kind of by accident. When we last left off, my insulin pump had spontaneously combusted in Arizona while at a family wedding.

As it turns out, the exact same weekend that my insulin pump broke, the insulin pump of my friend, Katie Clark, also broke! She signed up for a pump vacation, taking a respite from technology in favor of injections. When my new insulin pump arrived, I decided to take a cue from Katie and delay my pump hook-up a little longer in favor of a pump vacation.

With the summer season around the corner, I started thinking that others might be considering a pump vacation and I want to share my experiences thus far.

I should note that this is not my first pump vacation. In 2007, I spent four months attempting to do Dr. Steve Edelman's "untethered" regime, but it didn't work as well for me. Going "untethered" means using Lantus and using the insulin pump only for corrections and meal boluses. It's good for people who don't want to wear a "tethered" insulin pump, and who aren't sold on the patch pump either (at the time, patch pumps weren't even on the market!). For reasons unknown, I felt that being unplugged caused me to absorb insulin poorly, possibly from disconnecting so many times. My 2007 experiment lasted only a few months. I'm not entirely sure how long this 2012 experiment will last.

What I Like About MDI (Multiple Daily Injections)

I like not having something stuck to me. I have worn an insulin pump for 12 years straight, aside from that brief respite in 2007. It's not that I'm anti-tubing, but sometimes I'm just anti-technology. I don't always like feeling like a Borg. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but every so often, having this "thing" hanging on me is just annoying. As soon as I switched to MDI, I reflexively tried to unclip my pump from my clothes before changing into my PJs. It really has become a part of me, but I won't lie, I sometimes hate it.

One thing that's changed is that I'm testing my blood sugars more often. Crazy, huh? People always say that you need to test more on the pump because you don't have any long-acting insulin in your system — so if something goes wrong with the pump, your BG level will skyrocket much faster. For me, changing up my routine has reinvigorated my commitment to test more often.

And I now take my insulin before my meal. I know I'm not the only one who struggles with this. I always thought having my insulin pump so close to me would make taking insulin on time easier. But that hasn't been the case. I'm a chronic "after meal" boluser, and that habit hasn't helped me.

Now, on Lantus, I keep my insulin and my glucose meter together in one case. I first test my blood sugar, figure out what's for dinner (which usually involves asking my husband, the family chef), and then shoot up. Then I put the case away and I don't have to look at it again.

Finally, I have more real estate to work with. There are some places that a pump set just won't work. It's much easier to rotate areas where I can inject on Lantus, and hopefully heal up some scar tissues that I've built over the last decade.

What I Miss About the Insulin Pump

I hate injections. Having to poke myself several times a day is just annoying. It's probably helped my eating a bit, since I'm less likely to want to inject for that extra cookie or apple, but that's also an annoyance. In the battle between injections and insulin pumps, insulin pumps win in the "ease of use" department, hands down. Plus, I bruise and mark easily. I have a nasty bruise on my abdomen that is just ugly and makes me feel at least as unsexy as wearing an insulin pump set.

I miss the precision of basal rates. On an insulin pump, you have all kinds of opportunities to automatically give yourself more or less insulin through changing your basal rates. On Lantus, you're kind of stuck with a flat line. In switching from the pump to Lantus, I can see how my body uses insulin differently throughout the day even more clearly, with some clear effects like the dawn phenomenon. I have increased my bedtime Lantus (I have my dose split) by three units and I'm still waking up over 200 mg/dl! What gives?

When I talked with my CDE, Gary Scheiner, author of Think Like a Pancreas and founder of Integrated Diabetes Services, about my adventures in pump vacationing, he mentioned that variations in your basal rates might mean breaking out the NPH. Despite the nickname "Not Particularly Helpful," Gary says, "If the usual basal program has a significant peak to it, it is best to use a combination of Lantus and NPH. If there's not much of a peak, Lantus alone should do the job." My basal rates don't have a significant peak, so it doesn't look like I'll need that strategy, but it's good to know NPH is good for something!

I have to compromise more on my doses because the diabetes math isn't as precise on MDI. Yes, I can inject in whole or half units, which for a fully grown woman is usually good. But it's trickier when dealing with really precise doses. It is slightly annoying when I have to figure out whether to round up or round down when the calculator tells me to bolus 8.743 units.

Figuring out active insulin (aka "insulin on board") is almost impossible on shots. I don't know how anyone does it, and haven't really figured out a way of doing it myself other than just trying to sit back and hope my blood sugars come down by my next meal. Gary says, "We sometimes take for granted that the pump does the adjustment for us." It's important to remember that insulin does not work immediately, and depending on how often you test, you might still have some in your system you need to account for!

And last but not least: I lost a bottle of insulin. You can't lose an insulin pump. (Well, not so easily anyway...)

So... have you ever considered going on a pump vacation? If you have taken one, what was your experience? And for those of you who are contemplating switching to an insulin pump, don't let this scare you! I still fully intend to return to mine. For me, it's vastly superior in the long run, even though it isn't perfect!

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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