#I am chronically ill. I would like the kindness back.

[icewindandboringhorror]

currently at That Point which occurs once every few months where one briefly begins pacing around the house teary eyed contemplating selling their own organs or becoming an online scammer or getting on anxiety meds so you can bear the risk taking required to be a hitman or so on and so forth.... why must everything so Expensive... Surely all would be healed in life if only I had one big plate of lasagna and a simple loan of $40,000 ... auoughhh....

[chronicillnesscaneffoffplease]

I’ve had a few “whoops this thing I stopped doing is actually helping me” moments recently.

I’ve felt wretched and like I was coming down with the flu recently. It felt more than my normal PEM symptoms, and I was really concerned. And then I realise it’s spring, a bunch of stuff is blooming, and it’s been sooooo windy. And I stopped taking antihistamines and my nasonex sometime last year (antihistamines bc we thought it might have been causing some side effects, nasonex bc I hate the sensation of nasal sprays and need motivation to use it). Pesky hayfever. Needless to say I’m feeling much better having restarted my regimen. I felt a bit silly that I could have avoided feeing miserable though.

I went out for an appointment yesterday in my “knock about the house” shoes that are podiatrist loathed (nil ankle support, nil arch support, worn down), rather than my lace up shoes with my orthotics. After that appointment, I thought I��d check out a new store that’s opened at the shops nearby. I ended up doing a LOT of walking at the shops and today my ankles are sooooo painful and my hips been acting up. I guess it’s good to know that my shoes and orthotics are doing good things in terms of symptom prevention (as well as better longer-term outcomes) but damn do I feel ouchie.

I’m framing it as “yay negative data also tells us important things” because I gotta remember it’s not my fault when these things happen but it is good to try learn from them. And frankly, when there’s so many things going on with your health and condition management as a disabled person, it’s okay when things fall through the cracks. It’s gonna happen. Especially when there’s lots of non-disability stuff going on too. It’s okay.

[sophiethewitch1]

music from 2018 you are my mental health

[diegoshargrieves]

listening to my parents talk about me is so fucking funny. "she's dealt with us for so long that at this point she's done. she's mentally checked out from having to give a shit about anyone. can you believe how corruptible she is just because she's almost an adult and she thinks that we're not her problem anymore?"

like man you are literally so close. so fucking close.

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

ur writing is so incredible thank u for sharing ur talent in something as silly goofy as the smosh fandom

hgtrfgtyu that's so nice! thank you! i got my real "start" writing fanfiction with youtuber rpf so when i said i was going to start writing for smosh, my best friend was literally like "reject modernity, embrace tradition," so one could say that this was inevitable. dust returns to dust or whatever they say. no but really thank you, there are so many wildly talented writers in this fandom, i consider myself lucky to be among them.

[ms-demeanor]

I've been following what's been going on with Belphie the kitten and his person, Greer Stothers, has just mentioned pet insurance in a tag on a post and I wanted to give an example from my life backing up why pet insurance can be a good idea and why I think it is worthwhile.

Two years ago my sister's dog had bloat while she was on vacation. The kennel he was staying at recognized symptoms and called my sister to clear them to take him to the emergency vet. My sister is very financially secure and this dog is an enormous part of her life, so she said yes with barely a moment of hesitation. That ended up being about twelve thousand dollars of emergency surgery.

Large Bastard and I got pet insurance for Tiny Bastard the same week because we realized that if someone had presented that option to us, we would have had no choice but to have Tiny Bastard put down, and we didn't want to be put in that position.

I did a lot of research about different kinds of pet insurance and different levels of coverage and annual maximums and deductibles and so on and so forth. Tiny Bastard is a senior dog, so this was going to be expensive no matter what options we went with, so I chose a moderately priced plan with a $500 annual deductible, unlimited annual coverage, that pays 80% of the bills incurred annually below the maximum. What that means is that we pay the first $500 of care totally out of pocket, after which point we are reimbursed 80% of any vet bills for care covered by the plan.

The first year we had this plan I was kind of iffy about it. It's a noticeable monthly expense and we didn't even spend the deductible in vet bills the first year. Except that a month before the policy was set to renew, Tiny Bastard got diagnosed with diabetes. We now have monthly insulin costs and syringe costs; there are tests she has to have regularly to monitor her overall condition and we need to do more frequent vet visits to track symptoms.

Suddenly the insulin alone means that the insurance is break-even within six months and the additional visits and tests are something we can afford instead of something we'd have to put on credit.

Our plan (through ManyPets) covers medication, surgery, diagnostics, medical equipment, and euthanasia and cremation. It doesn't cover pre-existing conditions, joint conditions for dogs who were signed up over a certain age, dental care, spay/neuter, vaccinations, or prescription food but honestly all of that makes me just kind of wish we'd signed her up earlier - her knee problems *would* be covered if we'd had her signed up as a puppy, and the monthly cost would have been lower if we'd signed her up then. And there are at least a few emergency vet bills that I wouldn't still be paying off on my credit card. Hell, I've probably paid more in interest on some bruising she got in a fight three years ago than I have for this policy as a whole.

I am glad that Greer is able to take care of Belphie. I am glad that my sister was able to take care of her dog. But I'm also really, really glad that for a relatively low cost, I would be able to take care of Tiny Bastard if she were catastrophically injured, or if she needed emergency surgery. I'm glad that I'm able to take care of her now with her medications and her additional vet visits.

There are a lot of people who say that pet insurance isn't worth it, especially not for young animals. But if your young animal gets very sick, or gets badly injured, or eats a hairband and needs an emergency endoscopy, then it will probably be VERY worth it. It's a risk/reward question. You feel like you're wasting money if you're paying for a policy that you never use, but honestly that just means you're lucky to have a healthy pet.

I'm lucky that Tiny Bastard was relatively healthy before I got the insurance; I'm also lucky that she was insured when she was diagnosed with a chronic illness that will need lifelong care. This enables me to provide care for her that would otherwise be financially unmanageable, and that makes the insurance *extremely worth it* from my perspective.

And Belphie is a good example of why it's a good idea to get coverage even for very young pets. Greer is recommending it because this kitten has required a tremendous amount of care during a period in his life when it's generally taken for granted that a cat will be healthy. (And Greer is not stupid for forgoing pet insurance - pet insurance is still a relatively new concept and there are lots of people who are leery of it for a number of good reasons)

So I'd say that if you've got a pet or are getting a pet it is very worthwhile to find a pet insurance plan that fits in your budget. There are a variety of plans out there and some are very inexpensive. Check coverage levels (you can even get some with wellness plans that include dental care and vaccinations) and see if there's something that works for you.

I personally don't think I'm ever going to own another pet without having pet insurance. It's ridiculous how much easier it is for me to say yes to diagnostic tests or different treatments than it was before because I know I'm going to be able to fit Tiny Bastard's care into our budget.

[boyswillbebuggsorsomething]

Sick Days

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Summary: Spencer takes care of you while you’re sick.

Warnings: Sick R, vomiting, brief mention of R having joint pain & pain in their bones, so many commas, R has no physical description other than having hair and looking sick/tired, written while sick and barely able to focus, NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

A/N: I’m currently sick and crave comfort so here’s this. Because I’m sick and in pain though, this may not be very good quality. This is very self indulgent so the way R’s sickness presents is the same as mine (and I am disabled & chronically ill), which may not be the same as yours. But anyways, this is my first short little sickfic ever.

Word Count: 673

.....

Getting sick sucks for anyone, but you were convinced that something somewhere had to be against you to make you feel like this. If you could ignore the god-awful ache in your bones and the creaking of your joints anytime you moved, you couldn’t ignore the horrible feeling of throwing up your guts every time you so much as drank water. 

God was simply against you, it seemed.

Luckily, you weren’t alone in your suffering. You had your lovely, kind, amazing, extremely germ-averse boyfriend who was going through his own hell with the germs you were surely spreading through your apartment with every breath. If you weren’t in so much pain, you’d feel bad for him, but in your sickness-addled mind, you could only manage extreme gratitude for his presence. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispered softly as he approached you where you were splayed across the bed with your favourite mug, full of tea, and medicine in pill form as you refused to take the liquid, “It’s a chamomile and ginger blend,” he explained as he handed you the tea, “Both are proven to aid in minimising nausea and relieving sickness and are commonly used as parts of remedies for colds and the flu.”

“I know, love, thank you,” You smiled weakly, though you clearly looked as terrible as you felt based on the small wince of a smile he offered back. 

Despite the kindness of the gesture, you really didn’t want to induce any more vomiting and began to set the cup down on the side table before Spencer stopped you.

“At least drink some with the pills, dry swallowing medication can cause a lot of harm to your throat,” He nudged the mug back towards you and placed the pills in your hand. In turn, you nodded, giving him a tightlipped smile as you placed the foul tasting pills on your tongue, washing the medication down with the honey sweetened tea.

“Thank you,” You murmured again.

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, I want to take care of you,” Spencer smiled kindly, pushing your hair out of your face and resting the back of his hand against your forehead.

“But I’m all gross and sick, and I don’t want to get you sick too, because you hate germs and you do important things everyday so I don’t want you to get sick,” Your words were much less eloquent as they could have been as you fought against the brainfog of illness to explain.

“While that may be true, I love you much more than I hate germs,” He paused briefly before smiling wider, “And if I help you get better, you will stop being sick much faster which means less germs in the long run.”

You manage a small huff of laughter and nod in response.

“Do you want anything else, or would you prefer if I just let you sleep?”

“I’m tired, but I want you to stay,” You groan.

“I can stay.”

“Will you lay with me?” Your question was hesitant, not wanting to expose him to too much of your sickness, because as much as he said he didn’t mind, you knew who you were dating and germs were not his thing.

“Of course,” Spencer’s voice was soft and kind, and the small glint of hesitation in his eyes disappeared as he looked over your sickly form. 

He shifted the blankets out of the way and laid beside you, his warm body instantly comforting even given your current condition. You inched towards him, resting your head against his chest with a soft sigh. Spencer’s hands rested atop your body after a moment, holding you close to himself, one hand rubbing your arm gently. Despite the pain wracking your body and the way your stomach turned with any food or drink you consumed, the exhaustion that wormed its way into your bones took over, leaving your eyes heavy and your body relaxed against him.

Being sick is definitely the worst, but having Spencer with you made it so much easier.

[muzansfangs]

hi!! i really loved your NSFW alphabet for aizen… is there anyway i could request one for ukitake? thank you so much for all the work you create, everything you write is such a treat!

Nsfw alphabet – Ukitake Jushiro (letters b, c, j, k).

Starring: Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader;

Format: headcanons;

Warnings: nsfw, nipple play, sub!reader, switch!jushiro, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, masturbation;

Plot: some nsfw head canons about Jushiro Ukitake, based on some letters of the alphabet;

Author note: Hello there! As I have already had the occasion to tell you in another 'alphabet request’, I am not a huge fan of this format. In the future, I may decide to write the missing letters, but as for now enjoy the ones I have picked! I am sorry if this is not your cup of tea, but alphabets sometimes get repetitive and it is not exactly a turn on for me to write. Having said that, enjoy your unexpected Christmas present!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jushiro loves and lavishes every single part of your body. He is, without dispute, the kind of man who puts his partner first and kisses the ground she walks on. Nothing in the world matters more than you. But he is a man too and, as such, he is subjected to carnal urges and forbidden reveries. Surely, Jushiro is reserved and would rather not indulge in such deplorable debates, but if you asked him such a question he would not back down.

His favorite body part of you are your breasts. Jushiro loves to kiss them gently, lips tracing their outline, especially during foreplays to make your nipples harden. This man simply admits he could spend hours molding them, suckling on the buds reverently, watching with lovesick eyes the way they sway and jiggle when he thrusts into you, or you ride him. He is definitely a boobs man.

The first answer is directly connected to the second part of the question. About himself, he loves his lap. Sometimes, fatigue and his chronic illness do not allow him to overexert himself and this is when he lets you straddle his lap to ride him. The pace is slow, but your caresses are passionate. Jushiro just adores the way you bounce on his cock and the view of your breasts he has truly makes it hard for him to last for too long.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically).

Jushiro does not particularly like the idea of spilling his cum in any place that is not your womb. He comes from a chaotic, large family and his ultimate wish is to build one of his own. Can you really blame him for wanting to finish inside you, when you call out his name so sweetly, tenderly, and your body practically seems to coax him to come inside of you?

Keep in mind, though, that Jushiro does not take anything for granted. From the day you first gave him your permission to fill you up, he knew it was a privilege you were reserving only to him. Of course, he also knew you were not going to revoke it. Still, even today, he always makes sure you give him your full consent before he proceedes in coming into you. He is the incarnation of a gentleman.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jushiro rarely indulges into masturbation. When he does, though, it means you are not around. Sometimes, you need to leave the Soul Society for a few days for special missions and he is really not the type to oppose to the idea of you being independent. He can take care of himself.

All he asks for, when you visit him to announce your departure, is for you to take a few pictures of yourself and send it to him. He loves watching you wearing human clothes. Pastel colors are his favorite. They compliment your skin.

It is absolutely needless to say he pumps his shaft in front of the pictures you send him. Your blushing boyfriend comes in a matter of minutes, especially since you often tease him by wearing provocative lingerie instead of cute sundresses.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The Captain of the Thirteenth Division has basic kinks, well suited to a man of his age and position. Jushiro has a thing for breeding and praising.

His desire to impregnate you, to build a family is evident in bed but also in the way he casually hugs you from behind, hands resting over your belly, almost protectively, as he murmurs how beautiful you would look with a baby bump.

Praises, praises falling from your lips are such a turn on for him. If he is eating you out on his futon and you tell him he is bringing you to Cloud Nine, he might begin to grind his crotch over the mattress, whimpering in pride for making you feel so good.

Do not think he is not going to compliment you, to praise you. Jushiro is kind of talkative in bed. Expect to end up showered in praises, to hear sweet nothings, to be cradled in his arms as he comes into you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I did not mention that I was going to post this request too, because I wanted to post it as a ‘gift’. Sincerely, I hope you are going to enjoy this small work! Much love, warm hugs and your favorite hot drink to sip in front of a fireplace!

– Luce

[whatbigotspost]

Endometriosis impacts about 10% of people who have a uterus, and that EXTREMELY COMMON metric is merely an estimate, possibly a massive underestimate. This disease is notoriously difficult to diagnose, both due to the elusive nature of how it operates and the rampant misogyny that comes associated with the societal treatment of this particular organ system.

Like why aren’t we talking about all of this? Any given group of 30 people has 3 folks in it living with endometriosis…

so yeah. Sharing this all from Instagram here to raise awareness.

I am only formally diagnosed with ovarian endo but I’ve discussed with my doctor about how my chronic bowel issues are likely endo related/impacted and even my sciatic nerve pain in my back hip area is probably connected.

This affliction is a GD curse 🥲 The same way that autism is a diagnosis that has had all these underlying tendrils that connect a web of symptoms I experience together once I saw it, endo is the same. It’s a whole body chronic illness NO DOUBT.

here’s what I needed to hear because maybe you do too…

•it’s not normal to fill a whole large deva cup with menstrual blood in 2 hours. •it’s not normal to bleed for 8+ days at a time.

•it’s not normal to have cramps so bad you are bed ridden for days.

•it’s not normal to have sudden offsets of abdominal pain so strong you “see stars” •it’s not normal to have to rock to the side on the toilet and/or move your stomach around and like fucking palpate your own guts to be able to finally, fully empty your full bladder (<—this is the one that made me really wonder WTFFFF 🫣)

ALL OF THESE WERE MY RED FLAGS that I had multiple giant endometrial growths all throughout my abdomen.

but people said “cramps are awful” and “ugh I hate my heavy flow” and not like actual comparisons I could ascertain so I ignored a lot of bad shit.

I didn’t know how much other people menstruated or how they peed or what level of body pain occurred as they aged and got fatter and their bodies changed in countless other ways across a span of years.

I only got a proper endo diagnosis bc when I broke my arm in that terrible car accident back in 2019, my MRI at the ER in the trauma dept opened an eventual Pandora’s box of my medical issues.

anyway if one person suffers less bc they read this and get proper medical care that would make my heart soar with joy, so like SHARE THIS KIND OF KNOWLEDGE AND

🩸🩸🩸🩸DESTIGMATIZE OPEN SHAME FREE PERIOD TALK BY HUMANS OF ALL GENDERS AND AGES🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

It’s just a fucking bodily function. We deserve information about it like we do the signs of heart disease or colon cancer.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for breaking up with my boyfriend because he likes my body?

TW for ED but please hear me out:

My bf (30m) and I (28f) have been together for a little over 5 years. When we got together I had an extremely stressful and physically demanding job. Shortly after our relationship started I relapsed with an eating disorder that had been a problem since prepubescence; I started restricting heavily at age 11 and had struggled with it on/off since then.

After quitting that terrible job and regaining some agency in my life, I spent a couple of years really focused on recovery. Without giving specific numbers (cause triggering) I'll say that I was extremely underweight to an unhealthy level for at least a year and experienced severe health complications because of it. I nearly died from heart problems and had a big wakeup call that caused me to change my whole life. I've done the work of recovery without medical help (history of omission with doctors) but have had support from my bf, and am currently at the highest weight of my life.

at a recent checkup my Dr talked a lot about "healthy lifestyle" and mentioned my weight gain over the past couple of years. I'm still within the "normal" range for my height and build, but the after visit summary/chart notes denoted risk of becoming overweight. Idk if my Dr would have brought it up if my history of ED was in my chart, (and I did switch primary care practices a few years ago, so they weren't treating me at my thinnest) but it still shook me a bit and I will admit to feeling very triggered.

The job I moved to is quite sedentary compared to the previous terrible one - I wfh, and very rarely have to be on my feet or do strenuous activity. In addition, I have chronic pain issues that make exercise difficult, and so historically have just restricted to maintain/lose weight because it's easier for me physically to just be hungry than to work out. I didn't want to go down that road again though because of how intense and scary it got last time.

My bf is a personal trainer and specializes in working with low ability clients and people recovering from long illness/injury. When I told him that I wanted to start exercising more often and get a good cardio routine going, he was really excited and started immediately putting together an "action plan" (what he calls it w his clients idk) for me. Then he mentioned how I'd need to add on a bunch of meal supplements and snacks to avoid losing weight and I got upset.

We're a plant-based (vegan) household and live with a roommate (bf's friend) so mostly eat/cook communal dinners and have various breakfast & lunch plans on hand, so we already eat pretty healthy and make sure to have a good balance of macro/micro in the meal plan. My intent was to eat the same but increase my activity level to get out of the danger zone without restricting. I don't generally snack and rarely eat dessert, just the 3 squares.

I told my bf that I needed to lose weight and be more active according to my doctor, and that I wasn't comfortable with having protein supplements, smoothies, and snacks in addition to regular meals because that would defeat the purpose. He got really sad and said that he likes the way my body is now, and while he supports being more active, he doesn't want the size of me to change. His exact words at some point were "you look so good now, I love the amount of you that there is and I like the way you jiggle." It kind of made me feel sick and wonder if he has like a secret size fetish or something?

So I've been thinking of breaking things off with him and moving in with a friend or back in with my parents, but idk if this is actually a red flag or just the disorder talking? He did help me a lot with recovery but if he's going to keep me from being healthy or wants me to gain even more weight then maybe it's better to leave - would this be an asshole move? I honestly don't know.

[forbebeandjam]

Hey!

So how about some kind of fluff maybe also some angst with Bada who has a girlfriend who’s like really weak (maybe some chronic illness) and also has back problems that affect her daily life, but still decides to dance.

maybe that reader is practicing some dance and kind of like overworks her self and passes out in front of bada.

you can also add maybe Bada being a bit mad at reader for not listening to her body and stuff.

Thank you!

(you can ignore this if you don’t write this kind of stuff :p)

Secret Pain | Bada Lee x Reader | fluff, angst

Summary: You bite your suffering from your girlfriend to make things easier for her.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I’m back!! I’m so happy to write again. Work has been killing me but I’m surviving. I’ll try to write more but for now I hope this isn’t too bad. Love you all🤍

~🤍~

"Five. Six. Seven. Eight!" you followed the dance count.  

It had been three years since you first started dating the wonderful dancer teaching the class. She was the definition of perfection to you. Tall, beautiful, kind, and funny. You loved taking her classes. 

The way the passion shined in her eyes was like medicine for you. A medicine no doctor could ever give you. You have been keeping this a secret from her as well. 

You were sick. You had a chronic bone illness that limited you to certain harsh activities like... dancing. Yeah, you hated it but then you met Bada. She made you want to dance. The fiery passion in her eyes would drive you crazy. 

At first, she was just a good friend, but you two started to notice that the feelings were more than just a friendship. Bada would always call you and ask you to go with her to the dance studio. 

You were there when she became a big choreographer, when she struggled with her confidence, and even when she bought her first studio. Every day she would remind you of how special you were to her.  And she was special to you as well but you decided that there was no reason to tell her about your illness. 

"You did really good, baby! You're getting better each day," she said as she wrapped her arms around you and kissed your cheek. 

"Thank you," you said as you tried to catch your breath. 

"Are you okay? You are way more out of breath than normal," she asked as she took a look at you face. You tried to look away. 

"yeah, I think I'm catching a cold. My body hurts," You said. And it wasn't a lie. Your bones were aching. You wanted to go home to your secret medicine stash and make the pain go away. 

"Oh, we should go home then. Girls, I'm leaving early today. See you tomorrow, okay?" she said to her teammates. They all waved goodbye and you both headed to your shared home. 

"Babe, I'm gonna make some soup and tea for you," she said as soon as you walked through the door. 

"Sounds good. I'm gonna go take some medicine for the cold," you announced and headed to the room. You took your indicated medicine and sighed. You were sprawled on the bed waiting for the medicine to kick in but the pain was almost unbearable. 

At that moment, you realized you might have to tell Bada sooner or later about this. You didn't want to scare her or leave her at any student moment without her knowing. You closed your eyes and tried to calm your body. That's when a plan came into your head.

You stood up and walked towards the kitchen. The aura was cozy. The house smelled like fresh eucalyptus and peppermint. The lights in the living room were slightly dimmed and there was candles lit in the center of the coffee table. 

She was dipping the tea bag into the mug with steaming water as you walked to her. She flashed you a soft smile but it faded when she saw your face. 

"Baby, your face is pale. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asked and you nodded with a sigh. 

"I am simply tired. I'm sure if I eat and rest I will be fine," you said and she agreed. 

You sipped on your tea while she placed a bowl of warm soup in front of you and sat down. 

"You're not eating?" you asked and she shook her head. 

"I already had a bite when you were in the room and I want you to eat. I like watching you," she said. You giggled and started to cool down the soup on the soop before directing it to your mouth. 

"I wanted to suggest something," you said and she gave you that warm smile as she widened her eyes in excitement. 

You loved talking to her. To Bada, your voice was like the most satisfying thing. She could hear you talk for hours without saying a word. She would just look at you with those enchanting eyes and a dumish smile. 

"So, I know you've been crazy busy with work and everything else. We barely have time for a real date so I was thinking that you and I could go on a date tomorrow. We spend the morning going to our favorite places and just having fun. Then we can go to dance classes and and the day with a romantic dinner," you said as you pushed the soup to the side. You'd tell her about your illness during the dinner.

Her eyes lit up in excitement and you could feel yourself fall her all over again. She was more comforting than the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning. More loving than the sweet harmony of a love song. 

"That is a great idea, love. I'll make a reservation in our favorite restaurant. Why don't you go to rest?" She said and you nodded. You were urged to take a warm shower and get under the covers so you did. 

As you lay in bed, millions of thoughts circle your mind. You didn't even notice Bada enter the room, shower, and dry her hair. That was until she wrapped her arms around your torso pulling you into her warm embrace. 

"Sleep well, baby," she whispered into your ear. You smiled and let her warmth wrap you as you drifted off to sleep. 

-

The following morning you work up earlier than Bada. You took your meds and got ready for the day. She woke up right after you and changed into her clothes. Her outfit consisted of a pair of flowy pants and a cropped tank top. 

She wrapped her air into a bun and added a cap. She tied her sweater around her waist and added jewelry to finish her look. 

You put on your acid-washed jeans, a tank top, and a large pink zip-up hoodie. As you were both walking out of the house, she gave you a peck on the lips, knowing that she couldn't show that kind of affection in the streets of Seoul. 

You smiled and hugged her tightly. You two started going to her car and drove to a breakfast place. She ordered breakfast and then drove to the park from your first date. You two ate breakfast, took a walk, and played around on the slides and swings. 

Then, you went to the movies and watched your favorite rom-com. The day was filled with your laughs and giggles. Bada adored your smile. She said if she could fame it on every frame of the house she would. 

Lastly, you went to grab a bite before dance classes. You felt a bit tired and had a small headache. You saw Bada placing the order and she turned to you to flash you a small eyesmile. Your heart felt warm but the sudden action but then you remembered. 

Bada would have to live without you one day. One day not too far since you couldn't seem to care for your body. You started to tear up and bit your lip. A sad mood took over you and you started to forget how to breathe. You looked around and saw Bada rushing to you. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" she said as she cupped your face. 

"Oh, no... it's nothing. I'm sorry. I was thinking about something sad," you said as you wiped your tears and smiled. 

"Are you sure?" she asked and you nodded. She walked back to the cashier and paid for the food. 

She didn't ask any further questions when you became the same bubbly person you always were. 

So you went to dance classes. By this time you felt completely exhausted but you brushed it off, knowing that you would get to go to a romantic dinner with your favorite person after all. you removed your hoodie and tried to warm up but your bones could not resist the pain. 

You sighed and stepped at the back. Bada's eyes seemed to be glued on you and you just flashed her a smile. She started teaching the routine and you followed it to the best of your ability. The class was almost over and by this time, your breathing was more hitched. 

You rested your hands on your knees and tried to breathe. The pain was killing you but you didn't want to cut your evening short. You thought you could resist but when you got back up, your vision became blurry and your body abruptly hit the floor. 

-

As your vision adjusted to the light in the room, you could hear a steady beep. 

'Not the hospital again,' you thought. 

You opened your eyes to find Bada holding your hand with a worried expression. Your eyes watered when you saw her and she shook her head. 

"It's okay. Please don't cry. It will all be alright," you said as you sat up. and kissed her hand. 

She nodded. The doctor came into the room. 

"I gave you stronger medicine but... you need to take better care, okay? You know this will get worse over time if you aren't doing what you're supposed to and taking your medicine at the right hours. I gave you some exercises you can do and your limitations," he handed you the sheet and you nodded. 

"Now, as for restrictions. Only one thirty minutes to an hour of dancing and no harsh workouts. You can go out for walks, not runs. Try to eat lots of green and bone broth. It's all in there. We want you to get better. You can get better but you need to follow my instructions. You can go now," The doctor said. You nodded and he left the room. 

Bada was sitting in the chair looking away. You could see a mixture of sadness and anger in her face. You felt bad for hiding this from her so you took her hand in yours and she turned to look at you. 

"What's going on, Y/N?" she asked with a broken voice. 

Your heart almost broke when you realized how much pain she was currently in. The amount of pain you caused her. Your eyes teared up to see her watery eyes. You had made her worry countless times before and you regretted everything. 

"I am sick. My bones are weak and I take medication. I have restrictions and such but I never follow them. Many doctors told me that there was no cure and that I should just enjoy my life to the fullest so I tried to but it was hard," you paused feeling your throat close up. 

"That was until I met you.  You looked as beautiful as ever. You were sweet and passionate about everything you did and, how could I not love you? I tried to push you away many times for fear that I might end up hurting you. All I wanted to do was spend my last days with you since I have no one else to live for. I love you. I am so sorry," you said as she wiped her tears away. 

"Please promise me that you will never hide things away from me. I want to be part of every single thing in your life. I want to care for you and cheer you up when you need it," she said. 

"But..." You were about to protest when she kissed your lips. 

"Promise me, please?" she said. You were so confused and your head was in the clouds due to that kiss that all you could do was nod with a shy smile. 

From that day on, Bada made sure to always take care of you. She limited your dance time but still made sure you had an amazing time while you were at the studio. She helped you with your workouts, made your favorite foods, and always ensured you had a shoulder to cry on. She made sure you were never, ever alone.

Thank you for reading🩵

[aritany]

it feels like yesterday i was posting my first ever WIP intro—this is that story.

today DEAD GIRLS DON’T SAY SORRY is out in the world, and i am officially a published author!

i love this story and everything it means, and i can’t wait for nora and julia and dillan to meet the readers that need them.

at its heart, DEAD GIRLS is and always has been about navigating grief without closure. how do you heal when the person who hurt you is out of reach? how do you heal when that person will never say sorry?

today is wildly significant to me not only because my debut novel launches, but also because on this day two years ago, feb 6 2022, my whole life imploded. i lost a spouse and two sets of parents in one fell swoop when i refused to go back in the closet regarding my gender identity, and while i’d expected the road would be long and bumpy, it was a shock that so many were unwilling to walk it with me.

i never imagined starting over at 22, let alone while struggling with chronic illness and no savings. but i did it, and DEAD GIRLS was with me the whole way, for better or for worse. slowly, i got to rebuild a family who who have supported me through it all. i’m so grateful to all of you here on writeblr who have showed endless kindness and support—more than you’ll ever know.

i’ll get off this soapbox in a second, but a last word: the grief does get easier to walk with. to those who have been hurt by friendships that were supposed to protect you: there are people worth trusting around every corner. to my fellow queer kids orphaned by bigotry: i stand with you & beside you & that hurt might never go away, but it does fade with time.

be you. be free. live joyously🩷💛

oh, P.S. you can support my journey (and future books) and buy it here ;)

[dancermk]

HELLO MY FELLOW TRAVELERS!

I, like many viewers, have been completely entranced by Hawk and Tim’s love story in Fellow Travelers. As a mature queer person, this show has been very emotional, and I am deeply invested. (I WILL riot if Tim doesn’t get to die in Hawk’s arms, and know that he is, and has always been, loved by Hawk.) But I digress.

Something that I have been fascinated by are the differing opinions that have surfaced about the characters, especially Hawk. I’m not looking for any arguments here, everyone is entitled to their opinion, and this is simply mine. To me, Hawk falls hard and fast for Tim. He breaks all his own rules for Tim - they topple over like a house of cards.

When we are introduced to Hawk, he’s cold and heartless with the men he hooks up with - they are nothing more than a body to fulfil his sexual needs and desires. He doesn’t do repeats and he doesn’t bring them home. But Tim, he instantly begins returning to, gets him a job, then allows him into his own apartment, etc. When Tim pushes back, Hawk relents further, letting him in emotionally, sharing parts of his past, crossing lines by introducing him to others in his circle, and so on.

Hawk is a traumatised man, carrying guilt and anger and shame, and a bucket load of fear! Yes, he has some internalised homophobia, but interestingly, he’s also extremely righteous about his homosexuality -and I don’t believe he thinks being gay is wrong in any way. (His response to his father is indicative of this).

I can personally say that I’ve never thought it was wrong to be queer, yet I spent much of my life hiding who I was and feeling shame. It’s an odd thing! Perhaps it is that the shame forms purely from what is outside of us, while what is inside of us can love another person of the same sex, knowing it is right and pure. Perhaps these contradictions between self and society are what causes so much pain and conflict?

But back to Hawk. Hawk is undoubtedly most affected by his teenage first love experience. A love that he fucked up through his own fears (fear for many men is unacceptable and a sign of weakness), and now carries the burden of believing he is responsible for their death. Hawk doesn’t allow himself to love again, until Tim. And we see many times throughout the show how much Hawk fears losing Tim. And in the end he’ll have to face that fear. I think that, in part, not attempting to have a life with Tim, is also fuelled by his fear of fucking it up and losing Tim - so it’s easier to just not attempt it! In episode 7, when he loses his son, part of that spiral is Hawk recognising that he can’t really prevent loss, and he wasted his life trying to be something he’s not - still losing his child and Tim along with it.

But Hawk is a survivor! And no one has the right to hate or judge him for it. I don’t think some young people truly understand what it feels like to live in a world where who you love can put you in jail, and destroy your life. I grew up in the 70s/80s and my experiences were bad enough, but I try so very hard to think about what it was like before that! When being queer was a crime and a mental illness! That’s pure terror! And for Hawk, he chose to survive the best way he knew how, and he wasn’t able to change because that’s fucking hard when all you’ve known is living in constant ‘fight or flight,’ and when have chronic trauma and experience collective trauma.

I think in episode 8 we’ll finally get to see Hawk grow - I certainly hope so - because he deserves to be free. Our beautiful Skippy has been free for some time, and while we mourn for the cruelty of a world that would take such a truly decent man, I am glad he got to live freely. Being closeted is the worst kind of suffering- a compartmentalised and fragmented existence where you are never truly whole, and therefore can never be the best version of yourself.

Before I go, I just wanted to also talk about being in a closeted relationship-which I experienced in my youth. I think that Hawk and Tim’s intense and toxic and exquisitely beautiful relationship, in part, arises from this. Because two closeted people in love live their relationship in secret, in a bubble, only in certain rooms, with none of the outside world reflected back at them. It becomes the two of you against the world. It’s so insular. Hawk and Tim literally live their 1950s relationship within two rooms - their apartments. All their memories are held within those walls. And it only belongs to them. They know each in ways that no other living soul does. It’s all-consuming and often unhealthy, but also stupidly romantic.

Anyway, sorry for this long winded post that no one will read and is likely full of grammatical errors because I’m tired! This atheist is praying we get everything we need from episode 8! Acceptance, forgiveness, understanding resolution, healing and a whole lot of love! ❤️

Cheers queers! 🏳️‍🌈

PS Matt and Johnny are exquisite on and off screen and I am so thankful to them for bringing these characters and this story into our lives!

[its-time-to-write]

I AM RUSHING TO GET THIS IN!!!

Friends to lovers maybe with a disabled reader?? Maybe she's someone he knew from back home who he runs into at a diner she's working at now. Maybe she feels like he abandoned her and her life fell apart when he moved away?

ANyway love you lots!!!

warning: there’s a lot of parentheses (it’s a choice) and a lot of swearing (I do what I want)

reader’s dialogue/feelings are based off my own experiences so if u read this and are like ??? don’t worry about it. i’m just projecting. the chronic illness is unspecified.

LOVE U BABE

you’ll probably date her

It’s hard enough growing up in a council estate in a shit part of Manchester (although you’d staunchly defend there’s no such thing as a shit part of Manchester) but it’s harder with fucking chronic illness. It manifests is clumsiness (joint pain), fidgeting (widespread pain), and bruising (skin problems).

Not to mention the fucking tiredness.

School is complete shit all the time, and life is complete shit all the time too. 

Okay fine, not all the time, but a lot of the time.

There are bright spots in between flare ups, bright spots that consist of learning how to bake with Simon (Jamie’s stepdad) and petting Roy (Jamie’s cat) and watching horribly cheesy movies with Georgie (Jamie’s mum).

Oh, and Jamie. 

You’ve known Jamie since birth, probably, when your mum brought you home and Jamie sat down on the saggy couch, aged two, and asked, “When does it open its eyes?”

He took it upon himself to look after you, magnanimous in a way he would not have been if you were actually related to him (thank god). When he starts to get tired of you, he can go back home to his own room and his own mum and hug her tight without having to share her with anyone else.

When you’re three and he’s five, you get a diagnosis. Jamie says, “That’s shit,” when your mum tells him you can’t play, and you’re told that you echo him with your first swear. 

“That’s shit,” comes your tiny voice from the sofa, face down and covered in bags of frozen peas.

Your mum is too surprised by the first words you’ve said all day, that she a) doesn’t scold you and b) doesn’t catch Jamie as he slips by her into the house. He sits on the floor and starts to tell you about primary school and helps your mum when it’s time to put the peas back in the slightly-broken freezer.

It goes like that for years. 

When you’re feeling well, you kick a football around with Jamie. When you’re feeling poorly, he climbs the steps to your room and tells you things, anything at all to distract you from the pain ripping through your body.

It’s nice. It makes you feel, like, someone cares, almost? Or someone understands? Or maybe the world isn’t carrying on without you, that a piece of it does stop when you do, and maybe you aren’t entirely alone.

You first realize you like Jamie (like-like) when you’re twelve and it feels like ice-cold water has been poured on your head, but not exactly in an unwelcoming way.

A shock, sure, but a soothing one.

You don’t tell him, but you think he probably knows. He’s not an idiot, he’s had girls swooning all over him since he was eight. 

(And your mum knows, and she and Georgie talk, and Georgie tells Jamie to be extra nice to you and maybe a little bit careful not to be mean about it.)

He carefully slips on your small bed when you’re fifteen and he’s sixteen (almost seventeen, but it’s the one time of the year when you’re only a year apart) and balances on his side so he can look at you.

“You’ll be alright?” he asks, and you don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.

He’s going to play for Manchester (City, not United, and not the Premier League Team), and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You don’t say anything, so he gingerly pats your head. It messes up your hair, but it also feels like tiny electric sparks are shooting through your body (not the pain kind).

He lays there for a long time, whispering about secondary school and football and making enough money to buy houses for everyone he’s ever loved, you included.

(He promises he’ll call all the time.)

—

He does call, until he doesn’t.

Some days are good, some days are bad, and now the bad days feel like they’re your fault.

“You’re overdoing it,” your boss says, “You need to slow down or you’ll be out sick tomorrow.”

You bite back the words I’m doing my fucking best, and just nod. Fuck him, and fuck this. You can work just the same as everyone else, pain be damned. There are fucking bills to pay and yeah, this shit hurts, but what the fuck are you supposed to do. Benefits aren’t enough at the moment, and it’s been a solid two years since you’ve given up on waiting for a knight in shining armor (even if that knight is in the Premier League now, just like he always swore he’d be).

Your boss is fucking right the fucker, but you push through on Friday (it’s fucking shit) and crash on Saturday (it’s even more fucking shit).

Your mum places bags of frozen fruit on your joints, rearranging the pillows on the floor. You’ve long since outgrown the couch, instead needing more space. Your dad moved the coffee table, saying, “It’s on its last legs anyway,” and the space you called a living room now became a treatment room of sorts.

Georgie and Simon come over all the time for family dinner (potluck-style) and they are comfortable enough step over you or sit down on the floor to talk.

It sounds worse than it is, but when they’re in the flat it feels better, all warm and glowy, like things are right.

Nights are the worst, with the moving around trying to get comfortable, so you’re awake bright and early on Sunday morning. Early enough to sit on a bench in front of the estates, bundled up in your duvet and puffing cold air out into the sky.

You hear footsteps splashing down the tunnel, someone on their way home after a long night. Or maybe it’s one of the many kids who like to sneak out to play footie in hopes that they’ll be the next Jamie Tartt.

He’s not that great, you want to tell them, except you don’t even believe it yourself. He is that great, he’ll always be that great, and you should have fucking known that he was going to fuck off and fuck a gorgeous, carefree model and not you. 

(Not that you want to fuck him. Well, you do, but you also want to, like, hold his hand.)

It was always going to end up this way, you should have known not to actually have real feelings for him, you should have left it at a childhood crush and not let yourself believe something could actually happen.

The footsteps pass you by, and it’s a man in a baseball hat and an awful silk-print tracksuit carrying a Gucci travel bag.

He’s out of place here, and you wonder if he’s lost. But no, he strides up to Georgie and Simon’s door like he owns the place, pulls out a key, and walks right in. It’s only after the door swings shut behind him that you realize it’s Jamie.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, clouds accompanying the words.

(You won’t admit it, but the surprise has rebooted your system a little bit, aching limbs forgotten for a moment.)

—

“This is shit,” you say as you lean on your fucking cane of all things. “It’s one thing if it’s Simon and Georgie, it’s another fucking thing if it’s Jamie fucking Tartt.”

“That’s a lot of fucking fucks,” your father says sagely, ignoring the glare you send his way and saying ow as your mum swats the back of his head.

“It’s only two fucks and one shit,” you tell him. “And I’m not going.”

“Then I’ll tell them to come over here,” your mum says placidly. 

Absolutely not. Also-fucking-lutely not.

“I am going to my room,” you say with dignity, turning to go back up the stairs.

Your dad waves, the prick. “Have fun,” he says helpfully. You flip him off without looking, and you know for a fact he’s doing it back. You know he’ll be up in an hour with a plate of dinner and sneak you early desert.

There is no fucking way you’re seeing Jamie after two years like this.

The cane is a relatively new development and sure, it’s helpful with walking sometimes, but a cane? The fuck were the doctors thinking when they suggested this? You’re barely twenty, not a damn convalescent. 

By the time you make it to your room, the doorbell’s ringing and voices are filling the flat. You reach for your bottle of pills and carefully tap the right amount into your hand (even though you know there is no drug on earth to calm down your traitor heart).

You lay down flat on your back with no immediate plans to move. You find your playlist and slip an earbud in, letting the music take you somewhere else. Somewhere where you don’t hurt for no reason, where you can focus like you’re supposed to, where you aren’t so damn tired all the time.

There’s a tap on your door.

“Come in,” you call to your dad, except the door opens and it’s Jamie, no longer in his stupid outfit from earlier, but in a nice jumper that you think might be Simon’s.

He smiles like he didn’t abandon you and sits down on the floor. You hand him the other earbud (it’s better than talking) and let Stevie Nicks croon in your ear.

“How’ve you been?” he asks (the prick) and you have half a mind to ignore him. 

“It’s been two years,” you remind him. “Try again.”

Jamie looks stricken. “Right, yeah, I know, it’s just- I’ve been busy.”

“Yup,” you reply. “Me too.”

(The cane is leaning on the wall by the door, and you need Jamie to not notice it.)

Jamie points to the cane. “That’s new.”

“Yep,” you say because it’s not the same as yup. It has a different vowel. It’s a different word, you’re having a civil conversation, your brain is making sentences just fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds like he means it, which is worse. “I went through some shit, you know? It don’t excuse it, but… got a new gaffer, Keeley dumped me, then I got sent back to City right when I were getting better. It’s been shit. I’ve been shit,” he corrects.

Your arm’s falling asleep so you shift, trying to stifle a groan.

Jamie’s up in a moment, all concern. “You alright?”

“Clearly,” you gasp out as savagely as possible. “Fuck off, alright? I don’t need your pity, not now, so go find some other charity case.”

Fucking flare-ups. Fucking Jamie. Fucking chronic illness and its fucking lack of a cure.

Jamie looks like he’s been slapped. To be fair, you would if you could get in the right position.

“You’re not charity,” he says, and unfortunately (and again) he sounds like he fucking means it.

“Okay,” you say. “That’s fucking mint. Thanks for staying such a good friend all these years, it’s been real fucking fun. I’ve got to lie here in discomfort, so I imagine you’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”

Jamie stares at you a moment, then leaves.

—

It’s a good day. It’s a good day and it’s raining and you don’t even care because it’s a good day. Nothing can ruin it (this isn’t a premonition) not even stupid Jamie showing up out of nowhere.

(It’s a little bit of a premonition.)

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he turns up in his mum’s kitchen, an hour before he’s supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be long gone by now, but you and Simon have cheese pinwheels in the oven that aren’t done for another twenty minutes, so now you’re stuck here until then.

“Fucking mint,” you say, just like the night before. Simon freezes but Georgie just rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll be in the other room, loves,” she says. “Jamie, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

You tell him, “I’m having a good day, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking ruin it.”

“You’re not a charity case,” he says, and you think maybe he is broken, but like a record is broken, not like a teacup.

Jamie says, “I weren’t lying about going through shit,” and you snap (like a rubber band, not a bone).

“Big fucking deal, Jamie, you’ve been going through shit since you were six years old. I’ve been going through shit too, in case you didn’t fucking notice. It’s not an excuse to be a shitty person or a shitty friend,” you burst out.

“I didn’t say it as an excuse, it’s just a fucking reason,” Jamie shouts back. “Jesus Christ, you’re not the only person with fucking problems! You’re allowed to be mad shitty sometimes, I didn’t ever complain, so why’s it fucking different for me?”

You open your mouth to tell him why it’s fucking different, except you don’t actually have a reason. How many times did you sit with him as he iced his knee, or his face, or his arm while you iced your back, or your chest, or your legs?

Pain is pain, your fucking government-issued therapist had said. And shit if she isn’t right.

“You abandoned me,” you reply, voice small. “You left me for Keeley and I wouldn’t have minded, I really wouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie rubs his face with a sigh. “Didn’t know how to talk to you, after. I knew you liked me since we were kids and I liked you too, so it felt fucking… weird. Dunno. But, I was with her because it was what I was supposed to do and she was mad fit and fucking funny. I’ve had a crush on her for fucking… ages.”

“Right,” you say, feeling one millimeter tall, “I get that.”

Jamie shakes his head and says, “Nah, you don’t.” (The fuck does he mean? He can’t read your mind).

“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Had a crush on her, didn’t I? Not the same as you. You were proper in love with me, and I…” he trails off.

“He was proper in love with you too,” comes Georgie’s voice.

Jamie turns bright red and you do too, and it’s like you’re kids again and he’s in your bed and you’re trying not to think about how close his lips are to yours.

“That’s… well, that’s…” You try and fail to come up with the right words.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, still blushing. “Yeah, suppose I was. Couldn’t do anything about it, then. Could do something about it now. If you’ve forgiven me.” He says it casually, like he won’t mind if you tell him to go away out of his own mum’s house and never return, when in reality he’ll burn up and die if you do.

“I will. I do,” you say. “I’m sorry too, I am. I can be a prick sometimes.”

Jamie shrugs, but he’s smiling a little. “I’m a prick all the time, love. Fucking… fucked childhood or some shit.”

“Some shit,” you echo. “So, proper in love with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Proper. Wrote my first name with your last on every bit of paper I could get me hands on, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off,” you say with a grin.

“It’s true,” Simon shouts from the sofa. “Found some bits when I was cleaning one day.”

Wait. Simon didn’t move in until Jamie was a teenager. That means… 

“Oh my god, were you fifteen when you were writing that? You weren’t even a kid anymore! What the fuck Jamie, you had it bad!” you tease.

“Fuck off, it was just a stupid joke,” he says defensively.

“Uh huh, sounds like,” you say as you go to wrap your arms around him. “You liked me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your head. He’s never going to fucking live this down.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Am I Too Much?

Thank you to @forest-meadow for this idea. I’ve been struggling with writing and what better way than to continue my “Am I?” series.

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x reader

Warnings: chronic illness mention, slight angst, obvs comfort after

Word count: 760

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you straighten out your back. The clothes you had neatly placed on the chair are still somewhat warm from your body heat. You clench your jaw as you clip your bra back on, sucking in your lips as you approach the door. The words from your doctor still ring in your ear. It’s always the same thing, different time, different doctors.

“The previous treatment only treated part of the problem so the new medicine you have to take…”

“You’ll need to really consider therapy this time around. I understand the price can be a lot but with everything you’re dealing with…”

“…a change to your diet can be really effective for these kinds of disorders…”

“Any questions?”

Of course you have questions. Like why would anyone want to deal with all of this? Is there any way to get rid of these things? Why does this have to be so much to handle at one time? With all those questions and ones similar raging in your mind, the pile of prescriptions stares at you blankly. You quickly grab them and open the door.

Waiting against the wall is your boyfriend Shinsou Hitoshi. He gave you privacy to change out of your gown after your physical. His smile is soft as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, bringing you into his side. The heat emanating from his body bring you a slight comfort. You smile softly but find it hard to continue smiling as you check out of the doctors office.

When you get into the car, you slide into the passenger seat as Shinsou buckles his seat belt. He’s about to reach over toward you and hesitates. You’ve curled in on yourself, shoulders subtly shaking. The paper prescriptions in your hand start to crinkle and dampen under the sweat of your palm. You know he doesn’t like shoes up on the surfaces of the car but you need to feel smaller, minimize yourself from everything in your life.

Shinsou sighs and sits back in his seat. “Love, tell me.” He gently turns your face towards his own. His eyebrows furrow in sadness at seeing the red tinge in them at the barely there traces of tears. He cups your cheek, his thumb running along your cheek. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

You blink, the tears flying off of your eyelashes as you stare at him. You sleeved hand wipes at your eyes and you sniffle. “I, I can’t. I mean,” you pause to take a shuttering breath. “How do you do this? Take care of me.” Your head falls into his hand more. “I’m too much to worry about.” Shinsou’s other hand holds your other cheek, gently holding your stare. He shakes his head to start a rebuttal but you interrupt him.

“I’ve got too much wrong with me! If it’s not one thing, it’s another and just…” You feel the tension in your shoulders drop as you grab onto his wrists to push him away. Hitoshi keeps his hands gentle yet firm against your face as defeat washes through you. You’ve told yourself over and over it’s okay to be weak sometimes but maybe, just maybe…

“You’re not too much.”

Your bottom lip starts to tremble and your head begins to shake. “N-no,” you hiccup, “don’t say that.”

Velvet lips press against your warm tears as calloused thumbs rub comforting circles against your cheeks. “I love you, kitten. And that means everything about you. Your chronic illnesses aren’t all that you are.” He kisses your forehead before bringing you in for a hug. “You’re more than enough for me, and I’m here to help you with it all. Okay?”

With your eyes shut and tears streaming down your face, you nod against him and finally embrace him. The car engine rumbles, providing a calming drone as your tears subside. You take a deep breath and sit back in your seat. Shinsou mirrors your actions and then reclines both his and your seat. You turn your head to give him a quizzical look. “We’re in the parking lot of my doctors.”

Hitoshi chuckles. “I know, but I don’t wanna go anywhere yet. Not until I know you’re okay.” He reaches his hand over the consul to hold yours, turning on some music in the car as you begin to relax and ease your mind. When he finds your head lolled to the side, he sits up and drives off toward your shared home sparing glances at your relaxed state.

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

Went out today and realized my wheelchair was only at 30%. No problem, I was headed to urgent care where I would likely wait for a while, then to target where there would probably be an outlet of some kind. Chair charged up to 60% at urgent care, problem solved. I happily went off to my other destinations. I went to a nice ramen restaurant, charged a little at Target, had a fiasco trying to get the last 30¢ for my bus ticket home, and by the time I was out the door my chair was flashing red on battery, meaning it was almost done for the day. I was getting on the bus at this point. No biggy. Got on and off with no trouble.

So now I'm on what I can only describe as "if the backrooms were a road". It's a standard city alley, in the dark, identifying features are sparse and I keep thinking the next brick blocky house is going to be mine, but it's not. My wheelchair completely cuts out. I try turning it off and back on. Nothing. That thing is dead. I check my phone for directions and I've been going the wrong was for several minutes. So I turn my wheelchair around and start pushing it. The manufacturer says this chair is 350lbs, it's on wheels so at least the friction is reduced but I still have to lean my whole weight against it to get it to move. If I had less weight to push with I think I would have been truly stuck. I proceeded like this for the longest 5-10 minutes of my life. This might seem like a moderately difficult task, but keep in mind that I am an ambulatory power chair user with chronic fatigue syndrome. Walking around my kitchen to make a homemade meal puts me in bed some days. I got my chair to the end of my ramp where I was able to thread the charger through my window and now it's charging so I can get it up the ramp.

I feel like Hercules and I think I'm probably not going to be able to walk unassisted tomorrow. I was feeling lately like my illness hadn't gotten better at all in the past 4 years and I was doomed to be the same level of active (not active at all) forever, I guess this proves that I actually am getting better by resting.