#which by the way my fatigue gets way worse the more pain I’m in but you know

[raeofgayshine]

*stares into void* How am I supposed to sleep knowing that doctors don’t take me seriously? That the pain I’m in, all over my body by the way, that was bad enough earlier I couldn’t turn my head very far because I was in pain and it felt stiff (and now I just have the pain left so I can at least turn it but will continue not to do so much). Pain that makes it hard for me to stand for very long because it kills my back and also my hip, who has a fuck ton of issues on my own, of course all the way to my feet, and there’s a reason I have frequent nightmares of my legs just giving out and no longer working, because the longer I stand the more that feels like it’ll be the case, and also that seems to be a lower bar lately which fucking great you know. The pain also, that goes from my neck like I said but into my shoulders and down my arms, sometimes. Sometimes also just my fucking wrists hurt, my hands will get so stiff I feel like I can’t do anything, can’t even close them around something to pick it up, and isn’t that my shittiest situation because I like to be doing stuff.

But instead of taking me seriously doctors have insisted it’s all my anxiety (except my wrists, which is clearly carpal tunnel despite multiple tests proving I have no fucking signs of that). Which is basically the modern day version of getting diagnosed with hysteria.

And so how can I sleep both knowing I will only continue to get worse and deal with more symptoms (pain and otherwise) until I reach a point I can’t actually fucking function anymore because no one will take me seriously, and also how can I sleep when I’m in fucking pain no matter how I lay and there is no medicine I have that will fucking help it?

[lovebvni]

Disabilities — Scripting them in or out your DR

This is something that has been on my mind a lot and I really want to talk about it.

Scripting in and/or out physical, mental and emotional disabilities. This blog is semi-serious and (obviously) I will be talking about mental illnesses. Along with physical injuries (not graphically), you have been forewarned.

Alright, hi! I’m Abyss! I am diagnosed with anxiety and depression. I am suspected of ADHD (by teachers, phycologists and myself). I also have lumbar scoliosis, which is (thankfully) mild. I struggle with all of these on a daily basis (pain, worry, fatigue, you name it.)

Now, personally, I don’t really have an issue with people scripting in or out mental or physical ailments. It’s fine, in my opinion — you just need to know what you’re getting into. Be educated, because I know a lot of people say “oh I have ADHD” or “I have autism!” And they don’t. They just want to be “quirky” and “different”. and then when they experience life with those differences, they’re like “erm! yeah no i DONT have that.”

Now, people script our mental illnesses and physical illnesses all the time. And that’s fine! It isn’t my businessX and if it makes your life better, more power to you!

I am someone who isn’t scripting out my differences. They have become part of me — they always have been — and I accept and love myself for who I am. Even though, yes, it is harder for me to take my dogs on walks, or speak up for myself, it is something that (for better or for worse) i have gotten used to. It isn’t bad to want to keep your differences. It isn’t ‘good’ to want to have differences.

I have mine (partially) because I want to learn to live with them better and more healthily. Some people still have them in their drs because they love themselves the way they are!

But, what I am trying to say is, don’t script in physical or mental differences if you just want to be “quirky.” You can script a diagnosis with something you think you have! I know I am.

But don’t take advantage of disabilities and use them to get places (like a handicapped parking spot, or a better spot in an event line).

Script a disability because you want to learn, to become better, to understand people. And don’t be scared to ask! If you have questions, ask them.

I love you all

From the darkness,

Abyss

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 59)

Alexia Putellas x Character (19)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**mini 2.8k**))

“Put me down.”

“You’re obviously doing better if you’re ready to argue.”

They both knew Alexia didn’t need to be okay to be arguing with her.

“Put me down, Ridley.”

“That’s not a nice way to talk to someone who’s helping you.”

“Why are you even here?”

“To check on you.”

“To check on me or Chiquito?”

“Can’t it be both?”

Alexia gave a frustrated sound.

“Put me down.”

“No.”

“You can’t carry me all the way, I’m heavy.”

“Yes, I can, and no, you are not.”

“Ridley-”

“I was in the military. I’ve been through worse.”

“Yes, as a pilot. Is that where you get your stubbornness from?”

Ridley looked down at her and was not disappointed by the grumpy look she had on her fatigued, sweaty face. She smirked.

“I went through SERE training. And no, I like to think that was genetically gifted to me.”

“Blau mentioned that…”

“Hm. What did she say?”

“Nothing, she said I should ask you.”

Ridley nodded like she already knew what Blau would have done. “Okay.”

“Well?”

“Well, what? You haven’t asked me a question.”

“You’re so frustrating!”

“And still, you can’t get me out of your head.”

Alexia went silent for a moment at that honesty.

Ridley looked at her and felt guilty again. “It’s not a nice discussion to have.”

“I just don’t understand… you were a pilot. You weren’t in the army.”

Ridley sighed, knowing she’d never let it go. “No, but pilots are most likely to become prisoners in enemy territory if we crash or eject or run out of fuel. We needed to be trained to endure it.”

“Endure what? Australia isn’t fighting anyone.”

Ridley stepped into the lift; Alexia still cradled safely in her arms. “Press the button, please.”

“Not until you tell me more.”

Alexia saw Ridley’s jaw flex as she manoeuvred and pressed the penthouse button with her elbow.

“There’s a lot of fighting happening that the public isn’t aware of.”

Alexia’s eyes widened. “You… fought?”

“I was one of a few who were involved in live combat, yes.”

“And so… how did they train you?”

Ridley made a frustrated noise. “What do you want me to say here, Alexia? They tortured us. Broke us. Again, and again. They drowned us and starved us and broke our bodies down to make us stronger. They broke us until it was impossible to torture us. So that we could endure any type of pain. Is that what you want to hear?” Ridley was looking at her now, those memories flooding across her face, across those dark eyes. “So yes, I can carry you until my fucking bones break, and beyond.”

Alexia let that hang in the air a few moments, both regretting having asked, and grateful that she knew. She felt like such a large piece of Ridley had just slotted into place. Did Ridley see her feelings for Alexia as a weakness to be drilled out of her?

Alexia put a hand over the large heart Ridley didn’t want to admit she had. “Thank you for telling me.”

Ridley took a few more breaths to calm herself and Alexia watched as the pain subsided and empathy took hold. “Lex just… save your breath please. You need to rest.”

A few more moments of silence were had in the lift and Alexia couldn’t help but feel safe in her arms. Comfortable. Ridley didn’t seem to be straining at all. Alexia knew she wasn’t small; she was 173cm and almost 70kg, but looking at Ridley’s calm face and feeling her arms hold her so easily, she felt like she weighed nothing to her.

She watched her as she stood, as she thought, somewhere off in the distant world of Ridley. There was something about her that was just so… fascinating to her.

The lift reached the top floor and Ridley stepped out and walked her to the door.

“Door, please.”

Instead of arguing, Alexia opened the door, and Ridley closed it with her foot when they were in. It was a beautiful feeling, stepping inside. The house smelled lovely, the aircon hit her body which sent a little shiver up her spine, and Chiquito greeted them.

“Hello my little man,” Ridley greeted him in Spanish before walking them ever so slowly inside. “Has he been keeping you company?”

“Yes, very well actually.”

“He can be quite… clingy at times. It’s one of the things I love most about him.”

“He’s very much like you.”

“You think I’m clingy?”

“I don’t know you well enough for that.”

It was a little dig, and Ridley knew it, but she didn’t bite.

“Are you feeling dizzy? Lightheaded?”

“No.”

Ridley paused her steps to give her a sceptical look. “You’re trembling.”

“Maybe because I lost the feeling in my legs having been carried from a park.”

Ridley only smiled. “Tell me the truth.”

After a few moments of silence, Alexia admitted, “I’m only a little lightheaded.”

Ridley nodded and continued to the couch. “Feel sick?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Ridley placed her ever-so-gently down onto the couch, and laid her down. Alexia’s eyes found hers as Ridley cradled the back of her head all the way until it was touching the couch. “Lie here to calm your body for a minute or so. When I come back, we’ll sit you up.”

“Where are you going?”

Ridley didn’t respond, she just disappeared. She reappeared soon with a bottle of water and another bottle with a coloured liquid. She placed them on the coffee table as she learnt back over Alexia. God, it took her breath away when she did that.

“Would you like to sit up now?”

Alexia didn't trust her words; not while she was drowning in her eyes. She nodded.

“Okay, Lex. Arms around my neck.”  Alexia did what she was told and Ridley lowered her head just past her ear. The feel of her breath there tickled and tingled while her hands found her waist.

Alexia held on as Ridley manoeuvred her up the couch until she was resting against it. As Ridley pulled back and their faces moved close to each other, there was a moment where they both paused as they felt each other just a breath away.

Alexia couldn’t help her eyes flicking to her lips and when she looked back up, Ridley’s eyes betrayed her inner conflict. She broke first and pulled away, placing the two bottle near her.

“Water and electrolytes. Drink.”

She was so demanding, so dominant, but it didn’t come from a place where dominance usually came from. Usually people wanted it to control others, to fulfil some sense of validation or desire. But with Ridley, she could tell it wasn’t the case. She wasn’t telling her what to do harshly. She wasn’t demanding it. There was no ego in her voice, and yet still, she was listened to. Because with Ridley, you knew it wasn’t a power play. She was just so good at making decisions that you knew to do as she said because she always made the correct decision in any situation, no matter how controversial or morally ambiguous.

Alexia picked up a bottle and opened it as Ridley walked away. She took a sip and relished the taste as she gave her body what it so desperately needed.

Ridley arrived back with ice and sat on the couch at Alexia’s legs, pulling her bad one across her body. She wrapped the ice around it, her eyes lingering on the scars.

“I’m assuming this is all about your knee?”

“Yes…”

Ridley nodded and stood, placing her leg back down as she walked away again. This time Alexia couldn’t help herself.

“Where are you going?”

“To make you lunch.”

Alexia felt so sick, she didn’t think she’d be able to eat.

“I don’t think I can.”

She heard Ridley fiddling around in the kitchen not a minute later. Of course. Stubbornness. Alexia sighed and kept herself hydrated until she returned and placed the prettiest bowl of oatmeal and fruits in front of her that she’d ever seen.

“Good carbs for the low blood sugar. Eat, la Reina.”

Her sick feeling went away with that. Slowly at first, and then more so. She groaned at that first mouthful and Ridley watched her until she was satisfied and left again. Alexia started eating faster, her body coming back to life until a hand touched her shoulder gently.

“Slow down, Alexia. Give your body time to adjust.”

Alexia did as she was told as Ridley made her way back around the couch and sat at her feet with a bottle in her hand. She gestured to her knee.

“May I?”

“It’s tender…”

“I know.”

She hesitated but nodded because she trusted her. Ridley sat between her legs and pulled her bad one into her lap, removing the icepack. She watched as the fingers of her good hand felt around her ACL and the entirety of her knee, front and back, and leading up into her thigh. When her inspection was done, she put some lubricant on her hand and massaged her knee. It was sore at first, and then… Alexia’s eyes rolled into the back of her head at the relief. She moaned, her head falling back onto the couch, the bowl of food forgotten in her lap.

Her fingers. Her fucking fingers. And her palm. And with a broken hand?! It was so good, she could almost orgasm. Another sound escaped her without permission.

“You can come if you really want to. I don’t mind.”

Typical Ridley. Alexia scoffed and her head shot back up as she fired back. “You’re giving me permission?”

Ridley shrugged nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t dare. You know what you want, la Reina.”

“Of course you don’t care. This would be the only way you’d make me come.”

Ridley paused and a question flashed across her face. She thought better of it and then one look at Alexia made her ask it. “Did you come to London thinking I’d fuck you?”

Alexia froze. She didn’t, did she? She wasn’t sure herself. She wondered how long Ridley had been pondering over that question.

“I came to get away.”

Ridley held her gaze until she was satisfied and nodded, returning to her work. “Good. Because we’ve had this discussion.”

That statement made Alexia angry, and she didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. “So you wouldn’t care if I slept with Meg?”

Ridley’s face was all too neutral. “Meg?”

“My physio.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, Katie did say she was pretty, did she not? Perhaps it will be good for you.”

“You don’t know what’s good for me!”

Ridley paused again, her eyes moving from her work, to the water and electrolytes, to the bowl of food in front of her. “You keep telling yourself that, Lex.”

“You’re really encouraging this?” Her voice broke because she was hurt.

“You can fuck who you want, Alexia. It’s your body. Your decision.”

“You wouldn’t care?”

“I never said that.” Ridley sighed and moved Alexia’s legs around her, replacing the icepack as she started on her other leg. “I can’t provide you with intimacy, so it would be selfish of me to be anything but encouraging.”

She never said she didn’t care.

“But you can offer it.”

Ridley sighed, exasperated. “No, I can’t.”

Alexia was at her breaking point. “I care about you’ve been through. What you’ve seen and what you’ve done. I know you must have done and seen some horrible things in the past, especially in the air force,” Ridley’s jaw flexed, “but you can trust me. You can talk to me.”

“They’re not your burdens to bear. They are mine, and mine alone.”

“But-”

“What do you want from me, Alexia?” Ridley was almost mad now, her eyes finding the footballers. “You want me to fuck you right here on this couch? Against the kitchen counter over there? In the gym? In the pool? You want to use me like that? Huh? That’s just sex. If all you want from me is sex, then just ask and I’ll make you scream so loud it’ll wake the fucking building. But you can’t, because there’s something more than that, and you know it.”

It was so brutally honest and Alexia was ashamed to admit how wet it made her. She wanted her, but not like that. Not like one of her girls. She bit back. “Oh and it wouldn’t be a problem for you? Feeling me, tasting me, hearing me come with you? Feeling my fingers inside of you and the sensation of my mouth on you?” She looked around. “How many women have you fucked in here, anyways?”

Ridley shook her head and gave a disappointed look at her. She knew Alexia was lashing out because she was hurt. “None.”

“Lies.”

“I don’t lie,” she said, hard. “You know that.”

“None?”

“None.”

Then why was she here?

“Why?”

“Because… because my brother always wanted to visit London.” Alexia’s rage disappeared like it was never there. “And when we were kids I promised him I’d bring him here and buy him a house. It… it doesn’t feel right.”

“So…”

Ridley answered like Alexia had asked her a question. Because she understood her. “So you’re the closest thing to a partner who’s ever been here, Lex.”

That nickname again. The closest thing to a partner. Alexia reached out and touched her arm. “Let me in…” she begged. Alexia never begged but she’d happily get on her knees for her.

Ridley was silent a few more moment. “You want more from me than I can give.”

Ridley stayed until late; the two lost in each other. Ridley shared her music with her, why she was passionate about it, how it made her feel, and Alexia… Alexia shared her football and her friends and… in the hopes that it would get Ridley to open up to her… she shared her dad. Her memories of him, things he said and did and how strongly he supported her. She cried unashamedly and Ridley wiped those tears away. They spent the rest of that day not together… but together. Close. Reassuring hugs and calming strokes. They moved together. Laughed together. Cooked dinner together, though Ridley did pick her up without her permission and sit her on the counter to get the weight off of her knee.

They found themselves on the couch in the theatre room as it grew late, Chiquito happily settled into Alexia’s lap as they searched for a movie. That half a day made her London trip worth everything. And as she sat there, so close to Ridley but not quite touching, she realised just how deeply she cared for her. She watched as she scanned the movies; the tv lighting her face in different ways.

“We left the football in the park,” Alexia murmured, only saying it to see how her face would react.

Ridley smirked and continued to scroll. “Actually, I kicked it to a kid who was eyeing it.”

Of course she did. Ridley the philanthropist.

A few more moments in silence and they eventually picked a movie and played it.

It started and Ridley leant back into the couch, Alexia still watching her.

“Why did you really come today?”

Ridley refused to take her eyes off of the television and she wondered if it was a tactic to control herself.

“To make sure you were okay,” she said in a husky voice.

“It would be easier if you just stay here instead of the hotel you don’t need to be in.” Alexia knew she didn’t need to be there, and she watched Ridley relax as she found out she knew. Why did she relax?

“It’s better this way.”

Alexia sighed, almost defeated.

“Can you do me a favour?” The Australian asked suddenly.

“Anything.” The word was out of her mouth before she could even think it.

“Please book in that physio for tomorrow. Your knee needs it and… I think it’d be good for you.”

Alexia heard her actual meaning. She’d be good for you.

A glance between the pair confirmed it.

“For you.”

That genuine Ridley smile softly warmed her face, lifting her scar as her cheek rose and Alexia could have died happy right then and there. The only reason she didn’t is because it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She grudgingly took out her phone to book an appointment with Meg.

“Done?” Ridley asked.

“9am tomorrow.”

“Thank you…”

“You owe me a favour.”

“That’s two now. Hurry up and chip them in.”

Alexia fell asleep half way through the movie, the day dragging weariness into her. She felt her head resting on Ridley’s shoulder, the rise of fall of it lulling her into a deeper sleep. She dreamt of her. Of them. Happy. Laughing as they had done that day.

And then she woke, and Ridley was gone.

[elysiuminfra]

my I Need Money post (AKA, please consider helping me survive my abusive homelife)

Hi! I’m Cecil. I’m a 20 year old transgender artist from Louisiana, and I can make YOU art!

Art is my sole source of income, and I’m in a bit of a pickle. I am an adult now, and I gotta do adult things. like pay off debt. My sibling is 17. We are both victims of abuse and child neglect at the hands of our alcoholic parents. It’s not so great, but I’d like it to get better.

I’m disabled from medical neglect, and have no way to get my driver’s license. I am unable to get a job, as I live too far from anywhere that would hire me, with no way to get there. This is all I got, man! I got two hands and a warrior’s spirit!

My sibling is my pride and joy and I want to see them flourish and thrive because they’re awesome. They struggle with untreated bipolar disorder and a slew of medical problems, and I want to get them treated for it. I also need to take my two cats to the vet. I have debt I have to pay off, and I have to buy myself food to combat my increasingly declining weight. My clothes don’t fit very well anymore. :(

Art and design is my life-long passion, and I’d like to do it for the rest of my life, but I can’t if I can’t get on my feet. If you’d like to view more of my work, you can check some out here, or view some of my more professional work on my commission website here.

If you would like to financially support me, consider commissioning or donating! Even just sharing helps!

https://ckncommission.carrd.co/

https://ko-fi.com/cknelysium

On a serious note, things at home are not great. This is where I talk about what is going on in detail. Details of abuse and neglect beyond this point. Not required reading, but necessary for context. Photos included.

It’s not that I’m just poor, my parents both work full-time jobs, and they manage to pay the bills. I have food and a roof over my head, but I own nothing but debt, and can’t financially support myself. My parents have been neglecting my sibling for years, and neglected me the same. They do nothing to help us.

My sibling is showing signs of health deterioration, likely malnutrition, and they don’t seem to be concerned about it at all. My health is getting worse, too, because my parents have ignored me when I have stated I am getting worse. I haven’t been to the dentist ever since I was a child. I live with disabling chronic pain and intense fatigue, and I don’t even have a diagnosis, since no one will take me to the doctor.

My sibling likely not going to graduate because my parents have not supported them at all with their mental health, education, or support them just in general. They live in total isolation alongside me. My parents are also the reason why I can’t get a job- they won’t teach me how to drive, and won’t provide transportation. I am physically trapped in my own house, and the only people who can drive refuse to take us anywhere. They also will not help clean the house, and they won’t help fix our dryer or washer, which are both broken. They won’t take our pets to the vet. They won’t spare any expenses for things that need to be done. They spend most of their money on alcohol. In my state, we are currently experiencing what one would call abuse and child neglect. This is one of the only times I have ever written, in detail, what my home life is like.

Our washer and dryer, both broken. We don’t have any flooring in that room. The other is part of our living room floor. I am the only person who cleans the house in any capacity, and when I do it never, ever stays clean. The dirt is from my dad alone. I need to cover doctor’s visits, medication, food for my sibling, and vet costs for my pets. I would also maybe like to have a little treat every once in a while. I can’t physically drive, but if I am able to get the money for it, I can force my parents to take care of things. Due to the, er, abuse, I am also isolated from the world at large and have no support system. All things described on my sibling have been happening to me for years, but I’m technically an adult now, so there’s little anyone can do for me. Things aren’t so great, but I think they can get better through blood sweat and tears. Which is why I have to step up and try to do all these things myself! A difficult task, but I want to make art into something I could do as a job. Please lord have mercy, I want to wash my clothes. I can even save up for a car, and teach myself how to drive, so I can finally reach independence. Without financial support, I can’t achieve that at all. I am very stressed about everything. I’m very isolated as a result of not being allowed to go anywhere. I don’t have anyone I can confidently trust with my home-life situation. I have no resources either, as I live in an area with very little support for adult victims of parental abuse. I’ve never made a plea like this before. I just want to be able to live and thrive and survive on my own, and I just can’t do it at this rate. If I can go to the doctor, I can get healthier, and undo all the years of medical neglect and actually hold a full-time job making coffee like I’d like. I’m afraid both me and my sibling will never get anywhere in life, and I don’t want that for them. I don’t want that for me. I want to finally start living. Thank you for reading, and getting to the end.

[kix-mm]

Part 3 of A once cruel god. G/t short story?

A once cruel god. G/t short story pt3

Pt1 - Pt2 - Pt4

The human slowly woke up, feeling a wave of dread and fatigue wash over them. Victor, a young and powerful god, had recently reclaimed them after previously granting the human freedom. He renamed them to "Amber" after witnessing the human spiral into panic when called their previous title of "my flower." Amber was a name they never intend on using other than when Victor was around. Only to please him and avoid being ripped apart any more than the human already was. After all, humans only have so many limbs to have ripped off before the damage becomes lethal... In fear of this monster that they call a god to go back on their word (which he did), they never granted themselves a home, a companion, or even a job. That way, the damage would be minimal.

Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an all too familiar touch. A large finger, gently stroking their back. Amber felt the finger move away as soon as they flinched. “My fl-Amber, are you awake?” Asked Victor. Their stomach dropped, suddenly feeling ill when hearing his voice. No, no! Amber wasn’t ready to deal with this, nonono why couldn’t this have been just some horrid dream?!

Victor watched Amber quickly curl up under the covers. He bit his lip and tried again, in a softer tone this time. “Amber? You don’t have to hide away, it’s okay… I’m sorry I scared you. Please come out”

Ambers frail body contorts with horrid cracks and pops to his wish's command. their muscles cramped as their body sat up and pulled the covers away. This was involuntary to the human, but they knew better than to fight the commands of a god. This was known as gods will. If a divine being such as Victor were to want something badly enough, their words could literally force it to happen. He never meant for it to be a command. But his wish to see Amber was strong enough to make it happen. Victor watched in horror, unable to stop what he had started.

He held the human that gasped for air in the palm of his hand “I’m s-sorry Amber, that… wasn’t my intention. I-I didn’t mean to, honest!” Victor speaks. They could feel the pain and anxiety radiating off of Amber. He loosely wrapped his hands around the trembling human. Amber tensed and squeezed their eyes closed, trying to make themselves small. "i-it's okay, it's alright Amber, let me heal you, let me take the pain away"

Amber stares at the god with wide eyes. "No, no! Please dont! Please dont!!" They plead while trying to wiggle out of their hands. At first, Victor didn't understand why. He knew that even back then, his healing never hurt humans. It was only once he noticed the scars and blemishes disappearing that he understood what had Amber so distraught. Amber would rather suffer in pain than risk Victor seeing the human without those. But it was already too late. Most of Ambers scars had faded into nothing, except for the ones Victor had inflicted on the human long ago.

Victor knew that the feelings he had towards the human were strictly one-sided. He knew that his feelings were wrong, but he couldn't help it. Victor looked down in shame. "Sorry..." he mumbled. But the apology fell on deaf ears. Seeing the pink on the giant's cheeks made it harder for Amber to face him. Their body constantly shook with dread and anxiety. Was their torment about to start all over again? Or would it be much worse this time? If Victor was still into the same sick and twisted entertainment as he was before... There was no doubt that he would have found new ways to pass the time. Maybe he would be even worse than he used to be... and what about Victors love? Amber had already blown thir cover that the human had absolutely no room for Victor in their heart... would that even matter to Victor?

But Victor had no such will for Amber. If anything, he wanted nothing more than for Amber to finally get the comfort they deserve. Unfortunately, he knew all too well that it wouldn't be well received. There would be suspicion, the constant worry of why and what the real intentions were behind his kindness... it stung his heart knowing that Amber was most likely speculating what kind of horrible torture they would have to endure before being granted freedom once more...

Victor ever so gently picked Amber up, making Amber hold their breath and cling to their thumb out of fear of being dropped. "Too high, too high!" They squeaked. Victor paused. How was he supposed to pick Amber up if they were afraid of hights? He had never considered this to be a hinderness before "I um... sorry, let me just -" he continued to lift Amber and brought the human to his chest. "Will this be okay? I won't drop you... you're safe now, that's a promise." A promise? From him?

"J-Just like you promised that I was free?" Amber mumbled begrudgingly. That caught Victor off guard. "Yes, exactly, why do you bring it up?" He asks while gently stroking Ambers back, he was trying his best to console the trembling human in his hands, but his efforts seemed to only stir up the human more as they tried to minimize contact with Victor.

"I'm... I'm back here, aren't I? Back in the place I was promised to be free from..." Amber explained while trying to keep their head away from the giant's chest. Hearing the gods' heart pound so loudly was bringing back memories. And what was worse was when Victor noticed, and their heart suddenly stopped. obviously, that made Amber very nervous.

Victor lifted Amber higher. "Amber, you aren't a slave anymore, I'm not going back on my promises this time, I've become better, honest! Or at least I'm trying. That's why... that's why I need you, you are the only one who knows me. You must- no... I need your help, please... help me become better for you." He pleads to the human. A god, pleading to a human? That's new... that's something both hod and humans would joke about, and yet here he is doing exactly so...

[farfromstrange]

A small update from yours truly—and a little over sharing, so I’m putting it under the cut.

I've been in an awful mindset these past couple of weeks since I was diagnosed with PCOS. I haven’t talked about it yet because it’s hard for me to even think about. But the fatigue and the pain are getting worse again, even with the supplements I’m taking so far, and I wanted to share it with you so you know what’s going on. My doctor referred me to another doctor, but the earliest they could get me in was January. Until then, I have to deal with the symptoms on my own. I honestly thought once I knew what was wrong I’d get better, but learning that chronic illness is actually chronic is a really hard pill to swallow. It’s manageable once you figure shit out, but getting a doctor’s appointment these days and being taken seriously when you can’t stomach birth control is like the Hunger Games. You have to be really fucking insistent when you want to get things done.

I’m still slowly working my way out of my writer’s block, and I'm proud of myself for getting there. I'm trying not to set expectations for myself and just take it one day at a time, which is working so far. I think I’m writing more consciously now, too. As someone who needs to create because she has too many thoughts it can get frustrating to burn out so quickly, but at least I’m starting to have fun with writing again (thanks to the DDBA trailer I’m still not over and it’s been idk how long you guys feel me).

On a slightly better note though, and the reason I’m writing this is that I’ve been spending the past two weeks since my last post preparing for vacation. I’m flying to Croatia on Sunday for a few days, which I very much need after the year I’ve had so far. I’m taking the time to recharge before I have another module exam at the end of September. So, I probably won’t be posting a lot the next two weeks, BUT I am writing. I just don’t have enough time to edit anything to the point I can comfortably post it. I will, however, use the time I have to catch up on some reading and do some reblogging. It’s a good use of my flight time, plus my parents will be driving back so I’ll have twelve hours to kill in the car. And who knows, maybe I can finish at least one update before I have to head to the airport. Just wanted to let you know that I’m not gone again, I just really need that vacation before I have my last exam this semester. After that, I have almost three weeks of nothing, which means I'll be able to focus on myself, my health, and my writing.

I’m also writing this to tell you guys I will definitely be participating in Kinktober again this year, though I decided to put a little twist to it. Last year was fun, but I want to do it a little differently this time. I’m currently working something out, and the announcement will come sometime in the next couple of weeks!

Maybe a different climate will give me some more writing inspiration, too. Thank you guys for reading this far. Take care of yourselves 🤍

[doberbutts]

Thank you for talking about the “able to get to the door but unable to stay inside” thing re:stimulation. My issues are less severe than yours were (creates chronic fatigue instead of severe meltdowns) but it’s kinda the first time I’ve heard anyone discuss them as a legitimate disabling barrier. I still have this “if I just try hard enough” mentality that I’m trying to overcome, and it helps to have someone else go “no, this is a real problem.”

Honestly the brain injury really opened my eyes because I do have ADD and had childhood epilepsy (been seizure-free since I was 8 tho) so we were somewhat conscious about sensory stuff but a lot of it was like. Okay every once in a while you will touch something that is Bad Texture and you will scrub your skin raw about it for the next couple of hours. Annoying repeating sounds fade into the background for you but God Forbid anyone talks while you're concentrating because now they've ruined everything. You'd rather starve than put Tastes Bad into your mouth and have gone to bed with hunger pains many times as a result. etc etc etc for me it wasn't so disabling but largely that was due to my mom knowing how to manage my symptoms and teaching me from a very young age how to cope.

And then with the seizures my major warning sign was a colossal headache that refused to go away which was a sign to go lay down somewhere quiet and dark for a few hours until it passed or else a lightning storm would happen in my skull :D

But the brain injury... that really upset everything. Which is commonly reported, when I was finally able to speak I told my neurologist that I felt like a completely different person and not in a good way and he said that most TBI survivors have said this.

Honestly the best way I can describe it is that. Hmm. Imagine... your TV is too loud. When I say too loud I mean like. It hurts to be in the same room as the TV, it's bordering on the edge of so loud that it makes you physically take a step back. When the TBI first happened, that was any and every stimulus to my senses. My clothes touching my skin was Too Loud. Tasting my food was Too Loud. The ambient light coming from my window was Too Loud. And so on and so forth. Because there was an actual damaged piece of my brain, it was really struggling to parse any more information than "oh, no, ow, make that stop".

I wore blacked out glasses inside because I couldn't stand to keep my eyes open otherwise. I would ask my roommates to whisper several rooms down if they were going to talk to each other or on the phone because even just hearing their footsteps was like someone was taking a hammer to my forehead. I was usually naked because the feel of my shirt against my back would set me off. There's a lot I can't remember from that time but I remember being so frustrated as I hid under my covers from the light and the ambient noise of living with a bunch of people and their pets that "trying harder" and "pushing through" honestly just made everything worse.

It's a lot better now. It'll be 5 years in July. But every once in a while something will still set me off and I will be back in that place, frustrated with myself as I feel my brain hurtling towards a Very Loud Meltdown that I cannot get to stop.

I just don't appreciate being told that it's somehow lesser because my legs work. Especially considering TBIs are so common, and they happen so fast. All it takes is one good knock on the head and then you'll be just like me.

[crippleprophet]

[ID: a reply by @girlcalledwhatsername on this post (link). the reply reads: “hey, how do the blackout curtains help with this? I've been having similar reading troubles for some years and I'm looking into different ways I can help it.” end ID]

thank you for this reply because i’ve been meaning to make a post about that & forgot! so i’ve had my issues with light for ages because of sensory processing + chronic migraines, but i developed more general light sensitivity about two years ago (probably due to a combination of dry eyes + UV sensitivity from rheumatological issues).

this has gotten way worse as i developed me/cfs, to the point where a few weeks ago if i woke up during daylight hours it’d be impossible to get back to sleep because even with the blinds fully shut & all my covers pulled over my head & my eyes shut, i’d be too fatigued / pained by the light to do anything but lay there feeling like shit.

& that was the point at which i got blackout curtains, and i wish i’d done it years ago back when i thought my light sensitivity “wasn’t bad enough” to merit it, because holy fuck. obviously i’m still super impaired (i’m fully homebound atm) but my fatigue, cognition, & mood have been so drastically improved, it’s literally been a difference of night & day (with night being the better option). so now i can read on my tablet in my little batcave without taking constant poison damage.

obv not a universal solution, & even though i got a comparatively cheaper model (i wanna say like $25 each for curtain set + rod?) they’re unfortunately definitely financially prohibitive for a lot of folks, but if you experience issues with light at any level of severity & have the means it could be worth a try! even if that’s not your biggest / main factor, making things a little easier on my body in a small way that’s within my control often has unexpected positive effects on the more severe issues i don’t have the resources to manage.

i really hope you’re able to find a solution that brings you some relief. sending you love & luck for your continued search 💓💓

[thelastcitysposts]

I’m Right Here

Character: Newt x GN!Reader

Fandom: The Maze Runner, Safe Haven Setting

Categories: Reader Insert, GenderNeutral!Reader, Angst, Fluff.

Word Count: 3879

Warnings: Mentions of past violence to the reader.

Requested?: Kind of! Excited for this Part 2!

Summary: This is PART 2 to my ‘I Need You To Be Safe’ story. (I’M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG!) Newt and Y/N have been rescued and taken back to safety. Reunion occurs but will Newt’s guilty conscience get in the way of them truly being happy?

~

It had been four days.

Four days since everyone had fought for their lives and liberties at the Last City. Fending off WCKD, rebellions and a mind-eating virus.

And for everyone that had been conscious during those days, they finally let out that deep breath that they had been holding in for years.

The Right Arm had successfully saved as many immunes and people they could from the hands of WCKD, and had transported everyone to their Safe Haven. A little island location with the most breathtaking beach.

On the first day, Frypan, Gally and Minho had helped Vince load everything onto their ship. Their supplies, the survivors and their friends that were still recovering from the trauma and injuries their bodies had faced the day before. They had given Newt Thomas’ plasma that contained the cure as soon as they could, which knocked him out cold. Thomas was still in recovery from his battle wounds, and so were you.

On the second day, they had safely arrived in their new home. All hands were on deck to achieve a new home. Gally was building again, new homes for everyone and making sure they were comfortable. Frypan started scouting for food around the area and recruiting people to his new kitchen, and Minho, he was helping in any way he could. For he did not need to run anymore.

On the third day, Minho sat beside his friend's bed as he did every day. Newt began to stir awake. This jolted Minho from his seat with the biggest smile he had worn for many weeks.

As Newt's heavy and crusted over eyes began to open, the boy rubbed his face despite the pain he held all over his body.

‘Newt?’ Minho whispered, placing a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. Hoping to not startle him.

‘Minho?’ Newt hoarsely spoke back, staring at his friend in disbelief.

As much as Newt had remembered being cured and the events that happened to him that night, he was still missing blank spots in his memories.

He remembered crawling around the WCKD lab with Thomas and Y/N.

He remembered the fatigue and pain he felt that gradually got worse as they trudged around the city.

And then it's all black, until he remembers you. Laying on the ground, blood streaming from your side from the stab wound that he inflicted.

With that memory in his mind he turns to his friend.

‘Where are they?’ he said sternly, guilt laced in his voice as he hurriedly tried to get up from the cot he was put into.

Minho pushed his friend's shoulders back carefully, not wanting him to hurt himself.

‘Wo there. Lay back down please Newt you're going to hurt yourself.’ Minho exasperated trying to get his friend to calm down. “They are okay, they haven’t woken yet’ he said like it was the simplest thing.

‘What do you mean? What have I done? Where are they?’ He struggled to get out while fighting against his friend. Had he hurt you beyond repair? Was it too late? He had only just had you in his arms.

‘They are going to be fine. They lost a lot of blood, they just need some more time.’ Minho tried calming his friend. ‘Just relax please. You’re not looking to good yourself’ he sadly announced.

Newt sighed, laying back down while wincing and staring up at the wooden roof above his head. He honestly couldn't care less to ask the question of where he was, if they were safe, what happened to WCKD. None of that matters if it meant that you were in pain somewhere in the world.

‘Thomas hasn’t woken either yet. But he will and they will too. We made it Newt, you made it. We are safe now and everything will be okay. As soon as you rest and recover. I’m going to get someone to help you with the pain. Stay here’ Minho said sternly as he patted his friend on the shoulder and walked out of the hut.

Newt watched his friend leave the hut, waiting a couple of minutes before rising up out of the cot as he did before, feeling his head start to spin from the fast movement.

He stood fast and looked down at his feet, trying to ground himself before he made his way out of the hut and squinted from the bright sun that cascaded around his new surroundings.

As his eyes began to adjust he saw everyone. Tending to their new home, laughing with each other and enjoying the peace and serenity that they had built for themselves. He listened and heard nothing but tranquility and silence. No humming from electricity that he learnt to live with during the maze, no arguing that he became so used to in the months afterwards. Just silence.

It made his ears hurt. Because in his mind, all he heard was his thoughts screaming at him for what he had done to you.

Limping and aching, he hurriedly looked around him. You must be in this area recovering if he was too.

Searching each hut he passed, bursting through the doors like a maniac trying to see your smile again. Only to find that each one was either empty, or filled with supplies.

Growing frustrated in his panicked state he began yelling for you. Tripping up over his feet as he sprinted around on the sand.

He spotted another hut a couple meters ahead of him, using the last of his strength that he held he raced towards it, slamming open the wobbly door. And seeing you, lying peacefully in a cot, eyes closed.

He stopped immediately upon seeing your face. You looked so peaceful and tranquil. He approached with caution towards your still body, worried that any movement he makes will injure you just as it did days ago.

Opting to kneel on the ground beside your cot, he reached out and delicately held your hand, feeling how cold and pale it looked. Almost lifeless. It knocked the oxygen straight out of his lungs as he felt hot tears run down the sides of his dry cheeks.

He began to sob, no words being able to reach his lips apart from ‘I’m sorry’ millions of times as he became erratic. Gripping onto your fist as he broke down on the floor. He didn’t feel full anymore, the only reason why he wasn’t screaming right now was for the small movements of your chest rising each time you drew a silent breath.

Keeping his eyes trained on your matted hair that laced around your face, he lightly swept some of the strands away from your face before giving himself the courage to place his chapped lips on your forehead, before immediately rising to his feet and leaving the room. He felt as if the energy around him would bring you to your demise and he couldn’t risk that. Not when it came to you.

As soon as Newt had reached for the door handle and walked his way outside, he collapsed onto his knees, grabbing at his face and crying into his hands. How could he have done this to you? Even in the state that he was in those nights before, how could his love and adoration towards you not stop his actions and keep you out of harm's way? God, he wasn’t even able to tell you just how much he loved you before he hurt you.

Minho and Gally had spotted their friend from a mile away, already on their way back to him to keep him company and lift his spirits. They had never seen this boy as upset and broken before. His usual kind and happy nature, gone.

They rushed to him and held him on the ground as he sobbed. Mumbling how much of a monster he was and how he wished it was him that was in your shoes and not you to the two that held him.

Minho looked towards Gally, sad eyes holding onto his friends as he caressed Newt’s shoulders, no words being able to creep from his mouth as he communicated with Gally in silence.

What could they possibly do to mend a broken heart?

—

It had taken another day passing, and for Minho to sleep on the ground next to Newt for someone to convince Newt to drink some water, and eat something.

Thomas had woken now. His physical wounds began to heal, making his own way out of the hut and trying to rebuild his life again after everything that they had lost.

Brenda had decided to spend the day by your bedside. Wiping wet towels across your forehead and checking your wounds to see how they were healing.

When she found you laying on the concrete, blood dripping from the knife handle that hung tightly on your side. She made it her mission from then on to make sure you would survive. She tended to you when she could, made sure the fabric that laid under your head was comfortable enough and let the ocean breeze come through the front door to let you have fresh air.

When she had met everyone from the Glade back at her home, she had taken a liking to you immediately. Your kind nature, matching Newt’s was always something she was so fascinated by due to the onslaught of trauma you had been through.

So she would do everything she could in her power to make sure that you would be given the happiness and life you deserved once they got out of that hell hole.

‘You can do this Y/N’ she whispered, leaning her chin against the hand that laid on the cot beside your head.

—

Hours had passed now, the sun starting to fade away into the horizon and creating a cascade of purples and pinks. Everyone at the camp had set up a bonfire, celebrating the first night of freedom after setting up the camp for the last few days.

Newt sat besides Thomas, after reluctantly joining them all at the celebrations. Minho having to basically drag him out of the hut and force him to sit, and have a drink. To rejoice alongside his peers. Which Newt found so incredibly hard to do.

As you laid in your cot, darkness consumed the world outside. You begin to stir, shuffling around in the cot before awakening with a loud gasp and a wince. Your abdomen is still in pain, but mostly because you hadn’t moved in so long.

Looking around you, you first noticed the fresh smell of salt that hung in the air, the structure around you and the small candle that was alight next to your head.

Slowly making your way to be sat with your legs hanging off the cot. You sat trying to get a grasp on everything that rushed inside of your head.

You had been injured last you had remembered, but also Newt had been cured. Even just the thought of that had made you sigh happily out loud.

Taking your time to stand, you walked towards the door of your hut and opened the door. Looking around at your surroundings.

Even in the darkest you could see that you were by the ocean, the smell from before giving that away but even with how dark the night sky had become you could still see the moon's reflection on the tide as it rocked from the current.

Scanning around to the right you noticed more huts and structures halfway finished.

That was enough to tell you that you all had made it. This was the Safe Haven you all had dreamt about for years. The place where you all could finally relax and live your life the way it was meant to be lived.

Spotting the raging bonfire in the distance and the sound of cheering and laughter. You made your way over there slowly. Holding your wounds as you watched as faces you recognised became clearer in your vision.

The first face of which you saw, was Brenda’s as she came bounding over to you at the speed of light.

‘Y/N!’ she screeched happily and engulfed you in the tightest hug you had felt in a long time, almost sending you tumbling to the ground which caused you to giggle.

‘Brenda! We made it!’ you smiled happily and squeezed the girl back. Ignoring the mass amounts of pain in your side as you held her close. Happiness overtakes your senses rather than dealing with pain. You’ve dealt with enough of that in the past.

Pulling away, Brenda begins ‘God I knew you would make it. I missed you so much.’ she claims, grabbing each side of your face before bringing you back in. Laughing at her and you smile widely. ‘Can’t leave you here to deal with all the issues alone now can I?’ you smiled back at her and then pulled away again.

Smiling to yourself you look around and watch as faces you knew come closer to you.

Minho, Gally and Fry coming up from every direction and joining in for a massive group hug.

‘Welcome back Y/N’ Gally exclaims while messing around with the hair on top of your head. ‘Now that your back Y/N could you help Fry please? His food is making my stomach hurt again’ MInho laughs while his friend whacks him in the chest.

‘It’s so good to see you guys. I can’t believe we are finally here, it doesn't even feel real!’ you exclaim and laugh alongside them.

However, your mind isn’t exactly trying to stay in this moment too much longer. As your eyes search the crowd for the one face you beg to see. The only person you want to be held by.

Newt.

Where could he be? Is he okay? Did he make it to? And if so, why isn’t he here?

Brenda was the first to watch your eyes trail away from the conversations happening around you. Obviously knowing what you were searching for.

‘He’s by the pit Y/N’ she smiles and pushes you along as you give her the cheesiest grin back.

Making your way closer to the fire, you watch as faces, new and old pass by your vision. People who you had seen around the Right Arm and new recruits that you had helped save that night days ago smiling at you, nodding their heads and lifting their drinks as they indulge themselves.

Your smile started to grow smaller and smaller each time you looked around and could not see him.

Until, you did.

There he was, sitting quietly next to Thomas, nothing coming from his lips and his eyes dead as can be. This made you pout as you made your way over to the two.

Thomas looked up first, smiling and nudging his friend's shoulder while waving to you.

As soon as Newt looked up, you watched as his eyes went wide. Like a deer caught in the headlights. He almost looked scared to see you, that feeling making you stop in your tracks as your smile immediately disappeared off your face.

Was he not happy to see you? Was he angry at something you did?

You weren’t sure as you stood there, racking your brain for any wrongs that you may have done. While watching as Newt stood up, and instead of walking to you, hurriedly walked in the opposite direction.

You frowned, watching as the love of your life walked away from you. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

Thomas looked up to you from his spot by the fire at you. Watching the orange flames cascade around your figure as you looked defeated. He got up, and made his way immediately over to you.

‘Hey Y/N’ he said softly, rubbing the back of your forearm for comfort. All you could do in a response was look back up to him and give the smallest of smiles back before looking back at Newt’s disappearing figure in the distance.

‘He woke up a day before you and freaked. He didn’t think you would make it’ Thomas explained to you as he watched the cogs turn in your brain to understand what happened.

‘Does he think that this is his fault? I’m right here Thomas, why couldn’t he just come talk to me?’ you spoke back, finally looking at Thomas’ face with tears starting to form in your eyes.

He sighed lightly before bringing you into a tight embrace, letting you cry against his shoulder lightly. ‘I think that he is scared, Y/N. He needs you just as much as you need him.’ he starts to explain. ‘I have known Newt for a long time, and trust me on this. I have never seen him more happy and content than when he is by your side’ he reassures you as he lets you go.

As much as that fills your heart with joy, you need to go and find Newt and help him realize that everything is okay now.

Giving Thomas a tight nod you pull yourself away from him and begin walking in the direction that Newt has just headed to. Lifting your head up high as you trailed after him.

Since he had a head start, you walked fast until you could start to see his figure appearing in the distance. ‘Newt!’ you yelled, picking up your pace.

You knew he could hear you, but he just kept walking.

‘Newt, please!’ you yelled again, starting to jog despite the pain that you started to feel.

When Newt heard your sweet voice calling for him, it scared him. He wished that he just wasn’t here, maybe that would keep you out of harm's way. It wasn’t until you begged for him that he stopped. Not by choice, but the adoration he held for you in his heart stopped his legs before he could even think.

You saw when he stopped walking, but yet he was still turned and faced away from you. You jogged faster to him, reaching out to grab onto his arm.

‘Newt’ you whispered as you huffed, tugging on the sleeve of his jumper he adorned trying to get him to face you. ‘Please Newt, just tell me what I did. What happened? I don’t understand’ you rambled as your breathing started to normalize.

This made Newt turn around in an instant. ‘What you did? What do you mean what you did Y/N? I hurt you!’ he yelled back, causing you to take a step back. The wild look in his eye makes you remember the torment and anger he went through when he first discovered the virus.

‘You didn’t hurt me Newt, the virus was plaguing you! You were a crank Newt, that wasn’t you’ you whispered back, leaning backwards while staring into his hard eyes.

‘No Y/N, I hurt you. I stabbed you, the one person that I love and cherish. The one person who I thought maybe my stupid idiotic crank brain might think twice about. But no, I stabbed you. I caused you to be unconscious for days with no certainty of your recovery. I let you sit there on the ground while you bled out, too weak to even get up and help you myself’ he yelled back at you.

This stunned you. Not only his angry words directed at himself, but the word love. He had never said that to you before and this was not exactly how you expected it to happen.

This caused you to stay still, unnerved by his stature.

This caused him to look down at the sandy ground. ‘Right, well. Just stay away from me, please’ he begged. His heart breaking whilst turning around and beginning his journey away from you.

As you watched his footsteps make marks along the sand, trailing away you huffed.

‘Get back here Newt right now and face me yourself if you’re so scared!’ you yelled, causing the blonde to turn around and look at you wide eyed.

‘How am I ever going to prove to you that that wasn’t you Newt. What will make you realize in that shuck brain of yours that it was the damn  virus! Don’t make me stand here and watch you walk away from me while I spent the last year loving you!’ you yelled back.

You watched as Newt’s face immediately softened at your words. Love. How could someone he hurt so badly love him?

You watched as the clogs started to turn in his brain while he thought of what he could do. He could turn around, and continue walking. Maybe he could find someplace else on this island that would be far enough away from you to keep you safe?

Or maybe, he could just lift his head up, storm right to you and show you just how sorry he is and how much you fill the empty void in his heart? Mend the wounds that he had been facing for the last few days and just start again?

And the second option is exactly what he did.

Without a second thought, he raced towards you and held your face in his hands, causing you to look up at the boy's beautiful brown eyes.

‘I’m right here, Newt. Can’t you see that? I’m right here’ you whispered to him and you felt your body relax in his hands.

He looked deep into your eyes, searching for any form of regret of anxiety from his presence. Trying to find something that would make him run in the other direction. But he couldn’t, all he could see was the same love he held for you.

He wiped the tears that began flowing down your cheeks before leaning forwards and kissing you with all of his might. Hoping that the outpour of emotions that leaked from him would convey just how sorry he was and how much he loved you.

Leaning back into him, you reached your hands around his neck and reciprocated happily and passionately. Relaying every emotion you had in your brain at that moment. Never ever wanting to pull away from him.

He pulled away suddenly, placing his forehead against your own and resisting the smile that was aching to reach his lips.

‘I’m so sorry my love’ he whispered almost silently before taking his hands away from your face and wrapping them around your waist to hold you close, as his knees gave away from under him and he brought you down to the ground with him.

‘Shhh, it’s okay Newt. I’m here. We are both here, and we are safe.’ you smiled at him as you held him closely, rubbing the hair on the back of his head and rocking you both slowly.

Looking up from your position you watched as the last bits of the sun disappeared and the night became dark. But you didn’t care. You had made it.

Both of you had made it, alongside almost everyone you cared deeply about. You were safe.

It would take time to heal, both your own wounds but also Newt’s. It would take time to be comfortable again.

But time wasn’t something you were worried about anymore.

You have all of the time in the world.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN <3, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO A TAG LIST 

Once again, I’m so sorry this took me so long to write! Been such a long year but I am finally getting back into my writing and I’m so excited to get started again! I have so many ideas. I hope that this part 2 to my first story is satisfying enough! I’ve tagged a few people that commented on my last post asking for a part 2, sorry if you didn’t want to be! Thank you all for all your support from all of my stories. Can’t wait to write more! Big love!

@hooman16 @littlemalfoy1997​ @there-goes-my-sanity​

[anexperimentallife]

Life/Health Update

The thing we've been most worried about is the damage to my heart from COVID and anti-inflammatories. BP has been slowly going down over the past few months, so that would seem to indicate that at least SOME of the damage to my heart is healing. Let's hope. Need to get all those tests done again to know for sure, but for now they've taken me off one of my BP meds, so that's promising. (This was the main thing we were considering trying to get back to the states for, so I could use my medical benefits.) The rest of the stuff impacts quality of life, but isn't directly life-threatening, so if the other issues have to wait, they have to wait.

The hole in my throat still needs closed up. That will probably be the priority once we get my mouth issues (below) sorted. This one is kind of dangerous, as food, medication, and liquids often get stuck in there, and can throw off med dosages and sometimes cause me to choke. Been lucky so far, I guess.

One place in my jaw still pokes through inside, and another is threatening to. If those places don't start reabsorbing within the next few days, they'll have to open up the inside of my mouth AGAIN to file them down. So I'm gumming my food for at least another eight weeks before we can do anything about new teeth.

We're able to get the eye drops that take down the swelling in my retina fairly regularly now, so here's hoping that if I keep using them for three more months they'll have some kind of permanent effect. Probably still need surgery on that eye, though. Sucks that this happened to my formerly good eye--it used to have 20/10 vision. Temperature seems to play a role in the amount of fun-house-mirror-vision, but we live in the tropics, so not much to do about that. (We live in the mountains, so it's not as bad as the lowlands, but AC is rare up here.)

I don't think the cataract in the other eye has gotten too much worse, but that's obviously going to need surgery eventually, as well. If I can come out of this with one good eye, I'll consider myself lucky.

Brain fog (combination of long COVID, ADHD, Autism, and a traumatic brain injury) is still bad, but not as bad as it was. Nothing to do about that but wait.

My spine injuries are still an issue, with occasionally arm cramping/paralysis that used to be JUST in my right arm, but now sometimes spreads to my left. At least the cramping keeps the muscles toned? (Trying to look at the bright side here.) Neck exercises and stretching help with that, as does ice. (I mean, yeah, there's the constant pain, too, but that's the least of my concerns.)

Still need that second foot surgery, because the cauterization didn’t completely take from the last one; not only am I open for another infection (like the two-year one that an infectious disease specialist finally cleared up for me), but walking is pretty painful, too, even if I’m not talking about joint injuries.

Joint injuries... Hoo boy. Definitely gonna need a hip replacement eventually, and probably both knees.

I have chronic fatigue now, plus every pre-existing condition and old injury I had has been exacerbated by long COVID. It sucks. My stamina is improving little by little, though.

Treatment for all of the medical stuff has to wait for one thing at a time to be affordable. My health was stable until COVID, but now... Damn. Unfortunately, COVID came around around the time we found out we were having a baby, and four bouts of COVID have left my health completely fucked and exacerbated all my old injuries.

(If you're new here, you may not know that the licensing contract to convert some of my old fiction to a game--which, fortunately, did not count as "work income" for social security purposes--got canceled just weeks after El was born, meaning our income dropped way down, and that a snafu with Eleanor's birth certificate made her stateless, which took every bit of our savings plus the proceeds from a fundraiser to correct. If not for the combo of COVID and El's birth certificate snafu, we'd be fine both medically and financially.)

I'm working on plotting out more Quiet World and Alex And stuff, which I'll be shopping around, but frankly, even if it sells, it probably won't be much. (If you were here in 2013, you may remember that I had just started to have success selling my fiction to pro markets when my sons died, which threw me for a loop for several years, so I have to start over building a reputation.)

We've considered a move back to the US to use my medical benefits, but a) that'd be expensive af, and b) the US may be on the edge of becoming a military dictatorship, so even if we had the money for it, we'd want to wait to see what November holds.

So yeah, that's what's been going on with my health and our finances. As always, @thesurestthing and Baby El bring me joy, and my sort-of-adopted niece @geniussheepworld is a great help to all of us.

With so many people in the world suffering so much, I am reluctant to post a funding link. We are MOSTLY financially stable--it's just that we have to save up for my medical stuff while we work to finish paying off about 11K USD of debt from El's paperwork thing and all the medical whammies (and thank you to everyone who has helped already)--but if you want to help with that, the best link is either our paypal donation link or Ko-Fi.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

Hi Ashley!

I’ve been dealing with a chronic pain issue for about a year and a half, and it’s recently gotten a lot worse— a day of work’s worth of movement that used to be doable now has me crying on public transit coming home from the pain. I’ve been advocating for myself at work to make my routine more accessible, which has gone well, and I’m long term working on getting access to surgery that should hopefully help, but all of that is emotionally exhausting.

I’m writing to vent, because it’s been a really upsetting couple of weeks. But also I’m thinking about potentially starting to use a mobility aid, which I’ve never done before and which I’m finding really intimidating for some reason. I guess it makes it real for me in some way? For a long time this has been something I’ve just taken upon myself to grin and bear it, and just deal with the pain when I get home, and somehow accepting that it’s a real problem that I’m allowed to be accommodated for—and to be seen in public using a mobility aid— is scary to me. If you have the time and energy, any words of comfort or advice you have to offer would be much appreciated :) thanks for everything you do.

oh sweetie, i'm so sorry, that sounds awful. though i gotta say i'm really proud of you for getting accommodations and planning surgery, that's not easy. i'm glad your job is working with you and i hope you can get the surgery soon.

i've been disabled with chronic pain and fatigue for more than 15 years now, and i think the crux of what gets people so damn freaked out about disability - both those who do and don't have them - is this: control.

we want to believe we're in control. we want to believe we're in charge of our lives and our bodies. we want to believe that if we do things right, bad things won't happen to us. we're absolutely terrified of admitting that we do not, in fact, control our health. that terrible, painful things can just... happen.

becoming disabled forces you to face those facts. your body can do things beyond your control, and you can 'grin and bear it' with all your strength and the pain can still break you down. it forces you to see that 'mind over matter' is bullshit, that pain can be stronger than you, that you're not as tough as you want to believe you are.

disability forces us to come to grips with our own mortality. it forces us to see our bodies as sacks of meat and bone. instead of a tool for freedom and creation, our bodies can become prisons we're helplessly trapped within. we are forced to realize that this is mortal flesh and it doesn't obey our orders.

all of that? that's scary as fuck. it is fucking terrifying for your body to become a torture chamber. i don't know if i'm as scared of anything as i am the knowledge that the pain i'm in every day is never going to end. that it might get worse, that i might lose more control.

it is really fucking okay to be scared, to be freaked out, to hate this force you can't see or confront that is pushing you into admitting your weakness. it's okay to hate an outward admission of that weakness, that lack of control, even though you intellectually know that disability isn't something to be ashamed of and mobility aids are good things. it's okay.

i can't really coach you through to the other side of it, though, i'm sorry, because this is a huge, messy, awful thing. losing control and confronting that lack of control fucking sucks. being in pain fucking sucks. getting stared at or asked invasive questions because of your mobility aid fucking sucks. i hope you can treat your pain and reduce it to tolerable levels, i truly do, but even so, this process is one you just have to wrestle with and walk through over time.

if i can give any advice, it's to quit grinning and bearing it. quit anything you physically can quit that makes the pain worse or doesn't relieve it. for one thing, you might be making the condition worse and harder to treat, and for another...

you may have heard it said, but fuck, suffering is just suffering. it doesn't make you stronger, it doesn't make you wiser, it doesn't teach you lessons, it doesn't make you a better person, it just wears you down. you're not braver or more admirable for holding it all in, for not treating it, not doing whatever helps to lessen the pain, you're just letting your pride and fear get in the way.

take medication. it's very fucking difficult to get now, but if it's a possibility, use opioids when you need them. try other treatments. sit down more often. wear more comfortable shoes and clothes. treat your body gently. don't punish yourself worse because you happen to be human and this is out of your control.

get the mobility aid. practice in private, and if it helps, then fucking use it. use anything that helps. for the love of all that's good, do not suffer worse than you must.

this is hard. it's scary. it's completely fucking normal to be overwhelmed, to be freaked out, to be angry, to not know what to do. but you're not alone, and none of us are in control. not really. the sooner we make our peace with that, the better off we'll be.

[dawnskycosmic]

Just finished my pt appointment, and I’m getting more and more fed up with it. This place DOES specialize in chronic pain, but it is seemingly more and more helpful for people who’s pain stems from injuries, or age, or surgery and such, not someone with just chronic pain.

My biggest peeve right now is that I tried telling my therapist about thsi and her only response was that I just needed to keep going so that I could retrain my brain when it comes to feeling pain.

Hearing that as someone’s who’s expressed that metacognition is normal for me, and I rationalize and logic my way through a lot of things, was really frustrating. I already know that my pain is not coming from a constant source, and being told that I just “need to fix how my brain thinks about it” is both frustrating and a bit insulting.

On a similar note, I mentioned how my muscle spasms and tremors were getting worse, her response? That it was likely my hydration, sleep or fatigue causing it. When I said that this had been present and constant even when those changed, she said she had no idea (although I will say she did say she would check with someone) (that someone being the old doctor that I don’t like all too much)

Not to mention how hostile the facility is to sensory sensitive people. There’s exactly one quiet corner in the entire outpatient area, which is often used for group therapy so it’s not available quite a bit. Everything is bright and open and still cramped because everyone is in the same place, there’s a single large room that is used for both physical and occupational therapy.

I’m tired of this place and I’m only halfway done with my appointment for the day

[phocidine]

I feel like there’s a disconnect between what fans frustrated with Bad’s character want for consquences and what Bad’s fans consider consquences.

(Explanation below)

Bad was self-harming via modded minecraft bird and having concerning lapses of memory and getting hit in the kneecaps every 2 seconds by purgatory and mourning over his children. And now he’s lost his memory and is either dying from a nuke blast or recovering from dying.

So he’s a character that does some shitty stuff, but he’s also kind of rotting away where he stands, so it balances out right? Why do other fans want him to hurt more? How could he even possibly hurt more than he’s already hurting?

This is what a lot of protective Bad fans believe, but it’s not at all what other fans are talking about.

When I say consequences, I don’t mean the consequences of letting himself be vulture food or the consequences of just…existing in purgatory. These are painful but they have nothing to do with his actions towards others, which are the actions that myself and I suspect a lot of other BBH fatigued fans care about. Does everyone remember that whole ordeal where Bad got interrogated by Tubbo about Ron? Bad would be eaten by soul vultures whether he tortured Ron or not, but Tubbo beefing with him only happened because of what he did to Ron. THAT is a consequence.

And yeah, I do think Bad deserves consequences. Not for stupid shit like furniture stealing, and not for anything that happened in purgatory because I couldn’t watch most of purgatory and I would rather slam my head into a wall than talk about purgatory discourse again, but for the cold and calculating way he treated all of his friends for his big scheme after the Acceptance stream onwards.

I’m going to guess from the fact that this behavior started at the same time as Bad’s rapid mental health decline that we as an audience are not supposed to consider Bad treating everyone around him like ends to the means of his mysterious plan as a good thing, or a neutral character trait.

It might be easy to brush off Bad’s behavior as just angst not really worth remembering, but…I was invested in Baghera’s backstory and how it intertwined with the Ron storyline. I was invested in her and Bad’s friendship. I don’t want to just brush off the fact that Baghera drug herself through the mud to protect Bad and he ignored her in return. Situations like this have happened several times. Bad acts like an asshole to people he cares about because he has a one track mind to save the eggs, and then anyone who would like to see the pain or indignity he caused those other characters have some kind of follow up just don’t get it.

I’ve heard some confusion over why people want consequences from Bad when other characters have done way worse, but the thing is those characters DO get consequences.

Cellbit can’t embrace his cannibal persona and be friends with Pac at the same time. He’s messing up his relationship with his sister. He’s pitting Fit and Bagi against him because they care about the two people he has hurt. The Feds are looking for the worker killer right now and who knows what they plan to do to him. Cellbit does shitty things, and whether not you think he’s justified in any of it, he is suffering as a DIRECT consequence.

Slimecicle didn’t go on a murder spree against the eggs and then everyone just moved on and forgot about it. He was crying and screaming about Flippa throughout the entire thing, and at the end of the stream he has a very sincere “what am I doing?” moment and admits to himself that she’s gone and he needs to accept it. He showed regret, and then he went down and apologized to everyone and said it wouldn’t happen again (although admittedly he did treat the apology part like a bit). This example is kind of shaky because killing eggs was still less of a huge deal back then, but I still wanted to bring it up because consequences don’t always have to be punishments, they can be moments of humility and regret, too. Bad is in despair because of the missing eggs, but it would be nice to see him have some despair over how disconnected he might feel to his loved ones specifically because of the effects of his downward spiral. Or to have him show some regret for how he acted, whether he ends up apologizing or not. I doubt this will happen, it doesn’t really seem like ccBad’s style, but it is an option.

The eggs are back now so Bad will probably go back to being a slightly obnoxious babysitter with trust issues and the frustration of him being able to throw people under the bus for his own needs and getting away with it constantly will hopefully fade away. I do like Bad’s character after all, I just also like the characters that interact with him and feel like they deserve better in the narrative.

[this-smile-is-real]

A friend shared this with me again today and I wanted to share some conversations that I’ve had with family, treatment team and close friends in the last 24 hours.

We know that in January I was diagnosed with FND and learnt to walk again after a month in medical and a month in rehabilitation.

In the last 4 months I’ve been incredibly open about the journey which I will continue to to spread awareness, transparency and education. I was talking with a team member recently and she pointed out that toward myself I have internalised ableism.

To anyone else I am 100% supportive of using mobility aids at any time to help themselves but felt for myself that I needed to ‘prove’ that I didn’t need them, that I’d failed if I used them, and to try and overcome all of my challenges as quickly as I possibly could and put it all behind me.

In the weeks leading to this hospital admission I was spending sooo much time in bed completely fatigued yet putting all of my energy obviously into study but movement, movement, movement.

I am learning (very slowly) that acceptance of a disability doesn’t mean I’ve failed or not worked hard enough.

I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.

I have been more honest than ever before with family this admission and recognised that conserving energy where I can so that I can do the things I love and see the people I love and study is most important so that I don’t crash and burn.

I’m taking some steps again with the physio here in hospital and am open again to using my walker when back at home and in the community and also a wheelchair for shopping centres or longer trips.

I cannot wait to get back to yoga and Pilates.

I recognise that my chronic pain, fatigue, falls, non-epileptic seizures and functional tics get worse when I push myself harder than I need to.

I haven’t failed and assisting my body with mobility aids also does not mean I’ve failed.

I am still very new at learning how to take care of myself with these challenges and though I’ve exceeded in so many ways with new things, there is a long way to go in learning that this is a marathon and not a sprint.

Acceptance is not giving up and not defeat but actually self-care.

Thank you so so sooo much to those that inspire me on this journey 💜

[kxowledge]

I thought I’d be more anxious about the whole PhD applications process. I am not. I am actually very much fine with the prospect of not getting in. Partially, it’s because I have only applied here, which means that, if rejected, I still can apply to many other places & equally that I haven’t gotten a string of rejections, which perhaps would have tugged at my self-esteem. Partially though, it’s because I’m fine with the idea of not doing a PhD.

It's not because I don’t want to do one – I think this sort of career would suit me very well! – but at the end of the day, it’s a job like any other. I’ve always known that I could have gone for something else and be okay, but now this doesn’t feel like a second choice imposed upon me. If academia isn’t for me, I can perhaps think of doing something else that’s completely different – something that could help with the lack of meaning I feel at the moment. I don’t have clear plans, I’ll decide when it comes to it, but there’s many opportunities I’d consider. There’s three-four I keep circling back to, around agroecology, teaching, and more directly helping others. I would still apply next year (and possibly another cycle as well) before giving up, but I wouldn’t be too upset if it doesn’t work out.

I have the second and final interview next week. And I’m very calm about it. Confident in my abilities and confident that I’ll be happy no matter what awaits me in the future.

I did a tarot reading two days before my first interview. Three cards popped out. The Tower – representing a surprising change – is very fitting. It’s an invitation to embrace it and look at it in a positive light, which I think is the attitude I have going forwards, no matter what this change will entail. Looking at the card, I also thought of “bad” habits I’m trying to get rid of. It also indicates a revelation, and I must say, I am going through a period of realization, understanding more and more what’s important to me: human connection. This means love and helping others and so much more. The Eigth of Cups signals a similar direction: the seeking of a deeper meaning, focusing on my personal truth and concentrating on what is important. It also speaks about growing weary and lacking energy, which is very much the condition I find myself in. Not emotionally, but physically. Allow me a small parenthesis about this.

It has been almost a year since I started feeling this way. ["This way" being fatigued, often with a low-grade fever, stomach pain, exhaustion after very little activity, frequent headaches, little appetite, nausea]. I thought what I was experiencing was burnout. August is when things got worse – surely triggered by the bacterial infection I got in India. I thought I had started making progress towards the end of 2023, but then I got Covid (again) and it all went downhill. It is entirely possible that this is long Covid. It could be something else. It could be nothing.  I haven’t seen a doctor about this. I mentioned it in my last visit and it got dismissed. I will go in the next few weeks for another visit, as I promised my dear ones. I don’t have much faith however in the doctors’ ability to do something. Especially if it is long Covid, there really aren’t recommendations and treatments in place (though research is underway).

I haven’t been fully transparent with my family about the extent of how fatigued and sick I am, though they know I’m not in top shape. My boyfriend on the other hand is similarly worried (but hasn’t gone down the spiral of googling what specific types of illness it can be). I am too. It feels like something serious. And it’s so much pain that the other day I actually thought that I don’t think it would be worth living like this. I hadn’t had this sort of thoughts for a long time. I’ve been trying to manage my energy more and I might share bits of this journey here, as perhaps they might be helpful for someone else too.

Finally, the Emperor. Structure, which is what I need for growth. An order and sound principles. The way forward.

[dovetart]

So, I might’ve been fired from my job because of my disability but I’m not quite sure because they’re not communicating with me.

So, long story short (not really, I accidentally wrote a lot here lmao), I got a survival job at a grocery store pushing carts. At the time I wasn’t really fully aware of just how physically disabled I was. I knew I had chronic pain and fatigue but for some reason I thought taking such a physically taxing job would be ok? Idk maybe I was thinking more of my mental disabilities, thinking it could lessen the barriers that I have with those disabilities (which it didn’t lol my mental health is always bad but it definitely got worse in a few ways while working that job). Or maybe I was just reinforcing that toxic mindset that’s been hammered into me my whole life to just ignore my pain and push through it. Like, I needed that job to be able to get off the street and get an apartment and I was so desperate I decided to ignore the fact that it would be bad for my mental and physical health.

But after working this job I finally cannot deny it anymore. I’m disabled. Which, looking back on my whole life, it should’ve been obvious because I was always struggling with pain and fatigue. I’ve never been able to have a job for a long time. I can’t stand for longer than 4 hours, even then I’m still in a lot of pain. And I don’t have a car so I still have to muster up the strength to walk back home and then pass out on my bed for the rest of the day. The only way that I have survived this far is by taking copious amounts of pain killers so then the pain in more of a dull ache that I can ignore better.

And after a really bad day of work; a coworker yelled at me because I was resting before clocking out so I could have strength to walk home after a 5 hour shift, I cried… of course… and since I was already struggling emotionally that day I went home and had a psychotic meltdown where I almost ended myself. And after that I was talking to my therapist and she agreed that I shouldn’t be working. That I should take some time off. That my life and health was more important than this job. And, me, who is already someone who doesn’t like corporate companies and (thanks of years of therapy) now knows my worth, of course agreed with that and talked with my career counselor to work things out with my job so I could take the week off. I specifically told her that I needed a week off and then after that I was planning on talking to management to try to get accommodations and then work on getting onto disability while still working so I can still have an apartment. Then after I get on disability then THATS when I would quit, y’know?

But, evidently my career counselor told them “I don’t know how long they’ll be out for” even tho I clearly told her a WEEK. And, after just a couple days, I was talking on the phone with my doctor, trying to get a permission slip to take the week off (which, unrelated, why does it take so long to get something like that when I’m in a crisis and needed it right there and then 😭) when my work called me. And since I had used up all my energy that day talking to both my therapist and doctor over the phone, I didn’t call them back.

But… erm… I wasn’t scheduled this week. And I was like “ok, maybe they got my doctors note and that’s why got off this week also.” But I haven’t been scheduled for next week either… and I usually get my schedule for the next week by now. And I’m starting to think that phone call I missed BECAUSE I WAS TALKING TO MY DOCTOR was them calling because I missed my shift that day and it might’ve been them telling me I was fired because I missed it.

And it’s starting to make me nervous because I legitimately do need money. And I’m starting to get scared that I will be homeless again. I have no where to go if something like this is happening. And I think it’d be hard to get another job especially since I now know that I legitimately can’t work because of my disabilities.

And my new social worker… omg it’s so unprofessional… I was supposed to start meeting them back in July, but I haven’t heard ANYTHING from them and it’s September now. My therapist even tried to get in contact with them, said they would contact me, but they STILL HAVEN’T!!! And it would be really nice if I could get a social worker because that would help me out a lot. Like I definitely can’t fight to get onto disability all on my own, I can barely make phone calls!

And I’m not going to lie, I don’t think my career counselor or doctor realize how bad I’m doing right now. My therapist does and it feels like she’s the one always trying to get in contact with those other "professionals" to tell them to do their jobs because what I'm going through is legitimately effecting me horribly. But, I'm too good at pretending I'm doing fine when in reality I feel like I'm dying. I think that's why I was denied disability last time, because I masked too well during my evaluation smh Feel's like no one will take me seriously when I tell them how much I struggle.

Worst part is, is that I don’t even know what physically disability I have because I’ve been undiagnosed my whole life with like everything that I have because my parents refused to take me to the doctor as much as possible and never ever let me get a therapist until I was forced to because I ran away, tried to end myself and then was sent to the hospital by the police. What sucks is that all the experiences I have had with doctors and medical environments have all been quite traumatizing and filled with medical malpractice and gaslighting, so I’m not even sure my doctor will believe me. And idk if I would even trust her. No I don’t. I don’t trust most medical professionals. In fact I have had blood tests taken with this doctor already and my results all “came back normal” so “there’s nothing wrong with me,” right? (There is definitely something going on with my body here…)

And, I’m still not sure if I’m fired or not because they don’t communicate with me. Like, no offense, but l feel like they should put more effort than just one phone call that’s easy to miss, no voicemail or anything, to tell me that I’m fired. But what else am I supposed to assume when they’ve gone radio silent on me? I’m going to wait for the end of the week to see if I do eventually get a schedule… but after that I’m for sure contacting my career counselor to figure things out and start working on getting a new job.

I’m just mad that I possibly lost a job because of something I can’t control. But a part of me isn’t that mad because that job was taking SO much from me.

Idk but I’m just going through a real shit time right now. I mean, when am I not, right lol I’ve been struggling with this my whole life, and I’m tired of fighting. Part of me thinks I would be better off dead than having to continue to try to prove to others that I’m “disabled enough” to get accommodations. I really don’t want to be homeless again. Trying hard to survive today and focus on one day at a time.

Sorry, I don’t usually make posts like this. I just needed to get this off my chest somewhere. Thanks if you read all the way through.