#I know this normally happens when we get ill or have fatigue flares but like please not when we're just getting back on track

[thethingything]

ah we almost got our sleep schedule back on track and then we started just passing the fuck out for several hours at a time and waking up shortly before when we should be going to bed... please I just want a routine...

[devildomdisaster]

I’d like to request a body switching scenario with [Satan, Asmo, Beelz, Solomon, Simeon] and an Gender Neutral MC with undisclosed chronic health issues. Like brittle bones that break if you step a little goofy, stress ulcers, sensitivity to light, joint pain, poor stamina, etc. I just want to see the boys go “You live like this?!”

Satan:

Satan has a habit of collecting rare magical objects. Somehow quite a few of these cause body-switching incidents.

The cursed object causes the two of you to lose consciousness for a few minutes. When he wakes up he is in immediate pain.

His first thought is that the spell must have caused this and you must be in pain too! If he, a demon, is in this much pain it must be excruciating for a human.

He rushes to you or tries to. But falls to his knees in shock as a shooting pain runs through him.

He blinks watering eyes and sees his body stirring on the floor and realizes you’ve switched bodies.

You sit up feeling better than you’ve felt in years. Wondering if this is ‘normal’ or if that cursed object gave you super healing.

It’s only when you hear your own voice calling your name that you realize you and Satan have switched bodies.

You can see the tears in his(your body's) eyes and know exactly what's happening. You’ve had chronic pain for years. And Satan is sitting in just the right way to send shooting pain up your spine.

“Lay down on your back,” you order him. He has just enough control to follow your order and lower your body down slowly.

You can see Satan’s relief on your face as the pain eases slightly. It takes a moment for the worst of the pain to subside and his breath to even out.

He’s staring at the ceiling when he speaks, voice still a little shaky, “You live like this?”

You hum out a yes.

“All- all the time?” he asks, horrified.

“Sometimes it's worse than others. If I move or sit in certain ways it gets real bad. But if I avoid those movements it’s bearable.”

Satan turns to you “This is what you call bearable?!”

You shrug, “That position is usually pretty safe. So yeah probably.”

He is careful to move your body a little as possible as he shifts to point at a spellbook. “That book-”

“Are you going to change us back?” you ask.

“I-” he hesitates. Clearly not wanting you to be in pain again.

“Look, Satan it’s not that I don’t enjoy being pain-free. But I’ve dealt with it for years now. I’ve learned how to function around it. I had to. You on the other hand are going to be laying on the floor for most of the day if you stay in my body.”

“I’m going to find a way to fix you.” He says firmly as you place the book in his hands.

“Promises, promise,” you sing, preparing yourself to experience the pain in your body again.

“I mean it. As soon as I can move again I am going to find a way to help you. Devildom magic has to be better than human medicine.”

Asmo:

Asmo bought you matching bracelets. “Look Mc, I bought us these bracelets! They are supposed to bring us closer together!”

Well, they did bring you closer together. Just not in the way Asmo intended.

When he clasped the bracelets on, you felt a shiver go down your spine and when you opened your eyes you felt...different. Better. There was no aching pain. For once the dazzling lights of Asmo’s room didn’t cause you to wince. That's when you realize you’ve switched bodies.

Asmo on the other hand immediately cringed and squeezed his eyes closed, clutching his(your) head.

Asmo groaned pitifully, teary eyes squinting at you “Mc, how do you do anything like this??”

He curls up beneath his covers, and you make your way around his room turning off all the lights and closing his curtains. Once the light is gone, Asmo peers out from beneath the covers, “Do you live like this all the time?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“No wonder your room is so dark. I thought you were just being dramatic.”

You shrug at him, “The Devildom is better than the human realm. There’s no bright sunlight here.”

Once the spell wears off, Asmo keeps the bracelet on both as a reminder of how you live with this chronic illness and as the intended purpose of showing how close the two of you are.

He buys you super dark glasses to try and filter out some of the bright light that bothers you.

and asks Solomon to help him find any magical treatments that might help you.

Beel:

Beel and you switch bodies after eating some of Solomon’s cooking.

Neither of you wants to eat Solomon’s cooking, but you had the misfortune to be the only two people who couldn’t find an excuse to get out of it.

Beel doesn’t know how it happened, Solomon doesn’t know how it happened, you sure as hell don’t know how this happened. But here you are with a strange magic ‘cake’ in hand, looking at your body from Beel’s eyes.

Your first thought is how strong you feel in Beel’s body. Like you could do anything. The exhaustion and joint pain you normally deal with is gone.

Is this how normal people live? Although you suppose a demon doesn’t count as a normal human, so it’s not such a good comparison.

You watch as Beel catches himself on the counter as he adjusts to the symptoms of your illness.

He lowers your body to the ground. Sitting gingerly as the movement causes the joint pain to flare.

“Mc, is this how you feel every day?” He is so so concerned about you! How do you function if you feel like this all the time? “Why haven’t you told anyone about this?”

“It’s ok, Beel. I’ve figured out how to deal with it.”

“It is not ok. Mc, we could have helped you!”

It’s strange to be lectured by your own voice and body. But Beel does a good job of it. He insists that you have to tell him when your symptoms act up and convinces you to let him speak with Lucifer about trying some magical treatments.

The potion doesn’t wear off for several hours. You feel a tad bit guilty about enjoying this when Beel is so obviously suffering, but you can’t remember the last time you felt so good. So capable.

Once the spell wears off Beel insists on carrying you around so you aren't as fatigued and to avoid aggravating your joint pain.

Be prepared for trying a string of different potions and spells to treat your illness, under the watchful eyes of Beel and Lucifer.

Solomon:

After hearing about Lucifer and Satan’s body-switching incident Solomon went looking for another cursed book.

He’d heard some rumor about Satan’s book having a twin and was determined to find it.

And find it he did.

You accidentally touched the book at the same time as him and switched bodies.

Solomon is more intrigued than anything else. “Do you live like this all the time? If so, you do a remarkable job of hiding it.”

He is going to test the limits of your body’s capabilities. He wants to know what situations cause pain or discomfort so that you can’t pretend to be ok when you aren’t.

You’ll have to warn him if he is doing anything that might permanently harm your body.

Unlike some of the others, Solomon doesn’t immediately look for a way to switch back.

When the spell wears off Solomon has a near-complete understanding of your condition. He knows what causes pain, what doesn’t, and what situations you should absolutely avoid.

“Mc, you need to stop pretending you are ok when you’re not. I’ll be here to help you when you need it. And if that help happens to be stopping you from doing foolish things to save face then so be it.”

Solomon keeps a close eye on you from now on. He respects you enough to not tell anyone about your condition if you don’t want him to, but he will also come up with the strangest excuses to remove you from activities he knows will aggravate your condition.

If there is magic that can be used to help you Solomon will find it. Just be prepared to feel a little bit like a lab rat while he figures out the perfect spell or potion to help you.

Simeon:

Simeon wants to know what it feels like to be human. He thinks it would give him a greater understanding of humanity.

He mentions this to Solomon, who being the chaos loving wizard he is, makes a potion to allow Simeon to switch bodies with you.

The problem occurs when Solomon 'forgets’ to tell you both that he’s already put the potion in your tea.

Simeon is shocked. He finds himself in your body. Looking at himself through your eyes. And by god does your body hurt!

“Mc, I’m dreadfully sorry, but I think Solomon’s little joke may have gone wrong. I-everything hurts.”

You blink at Simeon...er Simeon in your body. Mind taking a moment to catch up with the sudden body switch. You feel great. Part of that might be due to being in an angel's body, but mostly it's due to the lack of pain.

“Oh, everything's fine on my end. So it must be my chronic pain. It’s worse today than others.”

“Wh-what do you do when it’s bad?”

“Usually I try to distract myself. Or try to take a nap and hope I wake up feeling better. But we’d made plans and I didn’t want to cancel so…”

“So you decided to deal with extra pain for my sake? Oh, Mc. You should have told me you live like this. I can help”

“There’s no point, Simeon. Not a single doctor I’ve been to has found anything wrong with me. I didn’t want anyone here to pity me.”

“I am an angel, Mc. I’m quite sure I can do a bit more than your human doctors.”

You help Simeon to his room where you spend the afternoon watching human world movies to help distract him.

Simeon sleeps fitfully next to you and as you drift off you wonder if that is how you always look when you let your guard down enough to show your pain.

When the potion wears off you are both asleep, curled up next to each other.

When you wake up you are back in your own body. Simeon is sitting next to you slipping a charmed bracelet onto your wrist. “This is from the Celestial realm. It should help keep your pain at a more manageable level until I can find a more permanent solution.”

[weirdmageddon]

my rheumatologist has done more for me towards getting a POTS diagnosis than my cardiologist thats kinda sad bro

i came in to the cardiologist the other day (finally after waiting MONTHS) hoping for a tilt table test to see how my heart rate and blood pressure react to orthostasis in a controlled setting. the doctor didnt actually do a thing to test me for it in-office, i was just told to schedule an echo (which is fine), holster (alright) and stress test (why). but i was also prescribed eastern medicine as a treatment....“superbrain yoga”? like i dont want to seem closeminded because she is an indian doctor and there are some things that western medicine hasn’t caught on to but i realy wish i was told why it is supposed to work. like i want to know physiologically how and why it supposedly works. get technical and mechanical with me bro i have le autism, thats my language if you wanna really convince me. if it’s about toning up the muscles in my legs to squeeze the blood into my core upon standing why dont i just do squats? why do i have to do all this really specific stuff like hold my tongue at the roof of my mouth and face east, crossing my arms (right arm must go over left) and maneuver my hands in a certain way to grab my earlobes while doing those squats? is that merely a concentration sort of thing to make your brain focus? if so, why not just let me know what the purpose to these specific movements are (and what does focusing my brain have to do with treating POTS symptoms anyway)?? i’m not a spiritual person so the spiritual aspects of it do nothing for me. but at least i wasn’t given intensive aerobic exercise because i cant do that lol. i was just prescribed core strength training with planks and crunches (fine with me) and “superbrain yoga” (the specifics still confuse me but i’m doing it anyway)

but i didnt even get a tilt table test while i was there, i asked about it and she said “we stopped doing tilt table tests a while ago” and i was like ????????? thats like the gold standard to test for POTS my guy. based on just my symptoms she said i had dysautonomia and i asked “what about POTS?” and she said “it could be” and i was like ? could be? bro you didnt even test for it?

the whole visit just felt really vague and dismissive to my issues (yet again). fucking even my rheumatologist said before this visit to the cardiologist that i “probably have POTS”

so when i left the cardiologist the other day i wrote this up because i was very upset, felt dismissed, and took matters into my own hands to show what kind of medical concepts i’m capable of comprehending and the kind of language i want doctors to talk to me about my conditions in. and today i read it to my rheumatologist during today’s appointment:

the cardiologist says i have dysautonomia, “caused by dysfunction of the small blood vessels”. in the clinic, the nurse measured my laying vs standing blood pressure (which increased rather than decreased) but they didn’t do my heart rate there for some reason. but on my own i’ve measured my heart rate to jump above 30 bpm within 10 minutes of standing, so with all the symptoms lining up exactly with what’s expected of POTS (heart rate increase greater than 30 bpm within 10 minutes of standing, no drop in blood pressure, lightheadedness, brain fog, palpitations, prolonged fatigue, heat intolerance, excessive sweating etc), i’m convinced that the type of dysautonomia i specifically have is POTS, not just the umbrella term “dysautonomia”, and the specific brand of POTS i have is the neuropathic POTS subtype which is thought to be caused by sympathetic denervation (partial autonomic neuropathy) in the lower extremities. this causes the blood vessels in my legs not to constrict as they should when standing, which in turn causes blood to pool in the legs and not return to the heart, causing the heart to have to source its blood supply from elsewhere in the meantime to compensate (with an overall lower venous return), driving up the heart rate and causing lightheadedness. my blood tests also showed i am also very slightly anemic by 0.1 point below the normal range (11.6 g/dL) the resulting denervation hypersensitivity from the sympathetic denervation what is thought to cause erythromelalgia—which i express all the hallmark symptoms of as well in my feet (redness, increased skin temperature, burning sensation (feels like walking on a hot pool deck), cold to touch and bluish purple when not actively flaring, flaring occurs at night, symptoms worsen with exposure to heat and exercise (including walking on feet while flaring) and are relieved with cooling and elevation). i have no response to the cold unlike with what is seen in raynauds. i actually consider cold exposure my savior; the heat is my worst enemy, it makes me feel faint and lightheaded dysautonomia-wise and it makes my feet flare up rheumatologically.

“Several previous investigations have provided clues that patients with the postural tachycardia syndrome have peripheral autonomic dysfunction. Streeten et al. found that patients with orthostatic tachycardia had excessive venous pooling in the legs while standing and suggested that denervation of the legs was a mechanism of the syndrome. This hypothesis was supported by the finding of hypersensitivity to infusion of norepinephrine into the veins of the foot, despite high plasma catecholamine concentrations. [...] These stimuli increased norepinephrine spillover in the arms of both the patients with the postural tachycardia syndrome and the normal subjects, with similar increases in the two groups, but failed to increase norepinephrine spillover in the legs of the patients. [...] The reduced clearance of norepinephrine in the legs, without a similar reduction in the arms, may result from impairment of norepinephrine-reuptake mechanisms due to isolated damage to nerve terminals in the legs. [...] CONCLUSIONS: The neuropathic postural tachycardia syndrome results from partial sympathetic denervation, especially in the legs.” — (https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJM200010053431404)

“The laser Doppler flowmetry signal after sympathetic stimulation of reflexes mediated through the central nervous system, was significantly diminished in patients with erythromelalgia as compared with healthy controls. [...] Vasoconstrictor responses involving central sympathetic reflexes were attenuated in erythromelalgia. Local neurogenic vasoconstrictor regulation, vasodilator response to local heating and hyperemic response to ischemia were maintained. [...] The finding of reduced skin perfusion before provocation is in accordance with the clinical observations that many erythromelalgia patients exhibit cold acral skin between attacks. [...] These results indicate that postganglionic sympathetic dysfunction and denervation hypersensitivity may play a pathogenetic role in primary erythromelalgia.” — (https://linkinghub.elsevier.com/retrieve/pii/S0022-202X(15)41629-X)

“Denervation hypersensitivity is a phenomenon peculiar to smooth muscle innervated by the general visceral efferent system. Following denervation there is increased sensitivity of the muscle to neurotransmitters. This is evident in smooth muscle innervated by sympathetic neurons when the postganglionic axon is affected. Such denervated muscle shows hypersensitivity to the application of epinephrine or to circulating epinephrine released during excitement.” — (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/B9780721605616500198)

although my rheumatologist is in no position to give me a POTS diagnosis she very much agreed with the connections i made and said she thinks i am right on the mark with my conditions. she told me im a real academic patient and even that i’d be well suited for going into medicine lol. not only is it refreshing to have a doctor that doesn’t disregard their patient’s knowledge, but it’s good to see what i’ve learned about nerves from my biopsych classes (and in my own time for funsies) paying off in ways concerning my health. my mom who is a nurse also agrees that neuropathic POTS and erythromelalgia are what i have.

anyway the POTS symptoms have been a massive thing for me since puberty and the erythromelalgia developed a year or so after my POTS symptoms started. but i’ve always had freezing cold clammy hands and feet since i was a young child, they just hadn’t started changing colors and flaring until after i hit puberty. i’m not sure what destroyed the sympathetic nerve fibers in my legs (as most POTS happens in teenagers due to some viral illness but i’ve never had that?), i was also just tested for a bunch of autoimmune factors and disorders and my results came back negative. maybe it’s just a genetic factor, who knows, probably something caused by a hormone’s cascading effect gone awry at some point. it seems a lot of autistic afab people have POTS or some other type of dysautonomia for some reason and i’m curious as to why.

anyway i’m really stuck in a liminal space because i have no official diagnosis beyond “dysautonomia” but i’ve been sure of what it is for like over a year and it keeps getting clearer and clearer that i was right all along

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Prompt # 19: Addiction  

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care. 

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible. 

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?" 

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag. 

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had  this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours. 

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her. 

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.” 

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” 

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly. 

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue. 

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face. 

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so. 

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

[mental-mona]

So You've Just Been Diagnosed With a Chronic Illness - an Orientation

So you've just been diagnosed with a chronic illness, huh? Welcome to the club; there are a lot of us here! I wouldn't presume to guess what your exact illness is, but most of us have some kind of fatigue and physical and/or mental pain going on, so that seems like a safe bet. Since you're new here, I thought I'd give you some idea of what to expect and what to do as you battle your illness.

First and foremost, accept it. Life is not going to be the way it was before. You will always either have some kind of symptom or be on the lookout for signs of a flare/episode. I'm not going to tell you to "suck it up, buttercup" because that would be neither useful nor fair, but you do need to grieve your past life in your own way and then look toward your future life with this condition. It really is a process of grief - the whole idea of the 5 stages of grief is nonsense, but whatever grief looks like to you, this will be a form of it. You had this whole, lovely, capable life before, and now…what? You have no idea, and it's scary, and most likely right now life is pain. It's a tangible loss, and that fact shouldn't be denied. You need to mourn for the life you had, but you also need to accept that this is your new reality and not keep trying to do things you can't or shouldn't. It's frustrating as hell, but sometimes you'll find yourself simply unable to do something that you used to do without thinking twice about it. Feel that frustration, then accept it and learn to work with it. Your job depends on computers but your wrists are killing you? This is why wrist braces and ergonomic mouse pads exist. Can't see the screen in its default state, or its default state is so bright that it gives you a headache? This is why it's possible to mess with the brightness and contrast settings on your computer. Whatever your problem is, there's probably a workaround or something that will at least temporarily relieve the symptoms. You've got this.

Ok, so whatever you have isn't curable, it can't be treated well enough that you'll have an overall good quality of life, and/or it's degenerative? When you've reached a point where it becomes clear that basic workarounds aren't going to cut it, it's time for some planning. Do you need someone to help you with your job? Transportation? Basic tasks? Who do you think should help you, and how? Obviously you don't want to think about being debilitated, but I'm afraid you're going to have to swallow your pride here lest you find yourself stuck without a way to get to a doctor appointment, or worse, stuck in bed with no one to feed you and help you get to the bathroom without falling over. Again, the goal is to accept your illness and work with it. I'd give you more concrete suggestions, but I don't know your precise condition nor would I presume to ask.

Ok, now let's discuss how to live within your new, more limited reality until you adjust to whatever its default state ends up being. The first thing you need to do is find a doctor who specializes in whatever system of your body is a problem, preferably one with specific expertise on your condition. There may be paperwork to fill out before your initial visit - pages and pages of it - but hopefully the results will be worth it. You need to develop a working rapport with your doctor; don't forget that unless you live in an area with really crappy healthcare or you have really crappy insurance, you can always "fire" your current doc and find someone you like better. There is no good reason to put up with a doctor who doesn't listen to you and/or has a God complex if you don't absolutely have to.

Once you've found a specialist whom you feel listens to you and whom you can work with, it's time to discuss what you want to tackle first. Which symptom(s) you find most bothersome may determine which medication or therapy the doctor tries with you first. Then it's time for an unpleasantly prolonged game of "Symptom or Side Effect?" as your body keeps doing weird new things and you keep talking to your doctor. That patient information they give out with every drug they dispense at the pharmacy is your friend; at the bare minimum look at the parts about side effects so that you can at least make an educated guess in the game, and if it seems like the med is doing something nasty to you then your doctor can change it. Unfortunately there is no magic pill that will fix all of your issues with no side effects; the question is more the pro/con ratio. The med's doing wonders for one symptom but now you can't pee? Nope, sorry, that's not acceptable. (Yes, side effects can be that weird; let's just say that that example was not pulled from thin air.) The med doesn't seem to be doing anything particularly bad, but doesn't seem to be doing anything particularly good either? Also not acceptable. The med's making your illness better but now you're always tired? Up to you whether that's acceptable; if it is, great, and if not, hopefully your doctor will have something else up their sleeve.

Depending on your illness, until you and your doctor get your symptoms under control and figure out what normal looks like for you, you may unfortunately find yourself spending a lot of time in the ER as well as the doctor's office. There may be no help for it; some diseases cause emergencies when they're out of control, plus it can take time to learn to differentiate between "normal" pain and "something's really wrong" pain. If either of those is the case for you, life is going to be really hard for a while. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but there's simply no sense in sugarcoating it. You may become a bit of a hypochondriac, but your body and/or brain doing all sorts of weird new things is bound to have that effect on you. Eventually you'll learn what "normal" looks and feels like, and until then all of your "but this shouldn't be…what if…?"s are understandable.

Now let's talk about something really evil that happens to the members of this club: the societal expectation that you will either die or permanently get better, and if you claim to be able to do x one day but not another day then you're malingering. This is total malarkey and we both know it, but it apparently seems to be a common attitude toward the disabled and chronically ill. You may have gotten it so much that you've internalized it; if that's the case, mentally take a step back and remind yourself that you are not faking, you are not just looking for attention, and that your energy and ability levels vary day by day and you simply have to work with that or suffer even worse consequences later. Read about spoon theory for more on the whole energy thing, and I've posted a few other compositions (which I will soon be editing and reposting) for you to read and share with your loved ones if you so choose.

Speaking of loved ones, now is the time to refine communication with them regarding your needs. If they're micromanaging you with "Should you really be eating that? Have you taken your meds today? No, you know you can't do that. You know you need to do this symptom-relief thing" type things, that's probably getting really annoying. Remember, their hearts are in the right place, and they may even be right about whatever they're saying. However, tone and expression matter; there's a world of difference between "I seem to recall the doctor saying that you shouldn't eat that" and "Don't eat that;" between "Have you taken your meds?" and "Consider this a reminder to take your meds if you haven't yet;" between "Do this to relieve your symptoms" and an implicit "we know x works for you" along with an explicit "Have you tried x to relieve your symptoms today?" Basically, the difference is command vs. suggestion. Most people respond much better to suggestions and relatively hands-off reminders than they do to commands and reminders that seem to come with the assumption that you're a forgetful idiot. It's a thin line and a hard one to walk, but if you give them some feedback eventually your loved ones should get the hang of it. (Also, if you really are going against doctors' orders, then perhaps you actually do need to listen to the annoying things your loved ones are saying!) As for all the "Hey, I read this article about something resembling your condition; could you have the rare thing I just read about/could this new treatment I just read about help you" nuisances directed at you, they are actually expressions of love and concern. If they're really annoying then tell everyone to just buzz off, but your better bet is to smile, glance at the article or whatever to see if there really is something of value there, and if there isn't then just quietly get rid of the article and dismiss the advice.

Anyway, that pretty much concludes your orientation; if you have any more questions feel free to ask someone in the chronic illness club or consider joining a support group for your specific condition, and good luck!

[evendeadlmthehero]

The Sun and The Moon

(Kylo Ren x Reader)

Episode II: The Timeline of Romeo and Juliet Part Two

Summary: “You were one of the 12 Padawans that Luke Skywalker taught. There, you met the love of your life. Your first best friend, your first lover and your first Boyfriend; Ben Solo. Everything was perfect. That is, until the Jedi Temple was burned by Ben himself. 5 years pass since you last saw him and he isn’t the same man you used to know. The Moon preferred darkness and in that darkness, Kylo Ren was born.”

Warnings: swearing, masturbation and mental illness.

The Sun and The Moon Masterlist

Ultimate Masterlist

13 Years Old

“How do you win everytime?” Ben exclaimed as you won yet another game of Dejarik. You smirked at him, shrugging innocently.

You had your hair braided up into a bun, two single strands from either side of your hair released. One of the single strand was braided to symbolise that you were but a Padawan.

“A magician never reveals their secret,” you replied back, laughing at him. Both you and Ben were in your Jedi clothing. He had finished sparring with Almec and you with Leirra.

“You are definitely cheating,” Ben joked, leaning back on his seat with his arms behind his neck. “You’re using the force on me, right? You’re reading my mind? Trying to plot my next move?”

“You know I wouldn’t read your mind without your consent,” you replied back, chucking a pillow at his face. However, his reflexes were quick and he caught it with one hand.

“How about you read my mind now,” he spoke, leaning foward to look you in the eyes whilst placing the pillow down. “Tell me Y/N, what am I thinking right now?”

You leaned forward as well, looking at his face. You concentrated on his eyes, trying to extract what was going on in his mind. It was hard to read Ben’s mind when he knew you were reading it. When he was carefree and not paying attention, sometimes his thoughts were loud.

The anxiety, depression and isolated feeling that Ben always carried with him, you felt it all. And although you felt bad for intruding his thoughts, it wasn’t your fault. Ben had yet to learn how to conceal it. You could read minds, however for some reason with Ben, it came more at ease. It felt like you were both one mind.

You were the only one out of the Padawans who could read minds, only because you did not know Ben could do it. He still hasn’t said anything about the night he read your mind.

However, you were the only one who truly knew how to move objects with your mind. More specifically, elements. The Force was the balance. The balance of life is Water vs Fire and Earth vs Air. You learnt how to control those elements.

“I cannot live without you,” you heard Ben’s thoughts. You looked down at your lap, blushing. Ben smiled at you, staring intently at your face. He knew what you read from his mind, yet he wanted to hear those words leave your lips.

“So, what did you read?” Ben spoke, a little smirk on his face as you continued to blush, unable to look at him in the face. “C’mon Angel, tell me.”

You were about to speak until you felt an unfamiliar sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You let out a yelp, and Ben too hissed, grabbing his lower abdomen. You then felt something wet near your womenly parts. You got up from the seat, seeing a red bloody stain on the couch.

“Oh my god!” Ben yelled, rushing towards you as he grabbed you in his arms. He then looked at the blood on the couch, his eyes widening. “We- we have to get you to the medic!”

The blood on the couch, the excruciating pain in your stomach and Ben’s panic was enough for you to see dark spots appearing before you went limp in Ben’s arms, now unconscious.

“Y/N?” He called out, seeing your eyes closed. He felt tears well in his eyes before he carried you bridal style. He then ran out of your hut, rushing towards the medic bay. “C’mon Y/N, you’re fine. You- you can’t leave me, you can’t. You’re all I have.”

Ben continued to run in desperation, tears profusely rushing down his face. When he saw the familiar white, little hut, he barged in. “I need a medic! It’s an emergency!”

Two medics, the only medics in the island, quickly rushed into where Ben was holding you. They were both of the Caasami species, wearing a purple velvet robe. R2-D2 then came in whizzing, holding a stretcher before placing it near Ben.

“R2, go inform Master Luke!” The doctor spoke before the droid whizzed away. Ben gently laid you down on the stretcher, before the Caasami rolled you down into the medic room. Ben was following them around like a lost puppy.

As the Doctors placed you into the bed, Ben felt the sharp pain again, the same region that you had pain. Ben was confused, as he wasn’t bleeding like you were. The Doctors noticed he was in pain and nodded over to the chair next to them. “Take a seat over there, young Padawan.”

Ben shook his head, ignoring the sharp pains in his stomach. “No, no, no, you have to make sure she’s okay! You have to find out what’s wrong with her, not me! She’s- she’s all I have!”

The Doctors slightly recoiled at Ben’s harshness before they begun to examine you. The felt your temperature, checked your breathing and heart rate yet everything seemed normal. They then saw the blood that stained your pants and looked at each other.

“Wha- what’s wrong?” Ben asked, his breathing uneven as he watched the Doctors stare at each other. The Doctors then started to laugh hysterically, making Ben see red. He then took out his lightsaber, aiming at the two doctors who fell back in fright. “Do I look like I’m fucking laughing? Fix her or else I will have both your fucking heads on a pike!”

“Benjamin Solo put down that lightsaber right this instant!” Ben heard Luke’s voice below as he stood with his own lightsaber. Ben looked at Luke, his nose flaring as his grip tightened on his weapon.

“No! Not until those mongrels tell me why the fuck Y/N is bleeding from her genitals and having stomach cramps!” Ben voice bellowed. Luke stared at him before looking at the Doctors. He then fell into a hysteric fit, a booming laugh ringing across the room.

Ben looked at Luke in outrage, his heart pumping quickly. Here you were, the only person in the galaxy that cared about him, who gave him a purpose and took away all his anxieties, dying as Master ridiculed him.

Master Luke then calmed down, wiping the tear that left his eyes. “Young Padawan, I need to explain to you the life of being a women and their once a month experience.”

•

“So-so she was on her- what was the word again Master?” Ben spoke, whilst his hand was holding tightly around yours. You had woken up an hour ago but due to fatigue, you took a nap in the medic room.

“Period my son,” Master Luke answered for him.

“Perry-ad,” Ben pronounced incorrectly but Luke did not want to correct him. He didn’t need to and he didn’t want to cause him embarrassment. “And you say she will get pains and cravings?”

“Yes, she will.”

“Who gave her this? Has she been poisoned? I swear to you Master Luke, I will find out who has given her this atrocious disease and I will strike them down and-“

“It’s not a disease Ben, it’s natural, it’s part of life for a young woman her age,” Luke explained. Ben tilted his head towards the side in confusion. “Women go through this once a month. They bleed as a result of not being pregnant. However without it, Y/N cannot have children. Without her period, Y/N won’t have kids.”

Ben looked at you, imagining you with kids. In particular his kids. The thought had his heart fluttering and a smile forming on his face. He would be a great father, better than his, Ben had thought. He would be there for his child, not sending them out alone to a temple.

“Then I will try to satisfy her cravings and subdue her pain,” Ben had promised, nodding to himself as he saw your angelic face still sleeping. He then looked confused again, facing Luke. “I still have one question Master. Why did I also feel the same pain as Y/N?”

Luke’s face formed to one of confusion, before realisation and then anger. Pure anger. And rage. He got up from his position, towering Ben. “Tell me you didn’t, Ben.”

“That I didn’t what?” Ben asked, now afraid. Luke scoffed, shaking his head at him. He then let out a bitter laugh, looking at your sleeping figure.

“Out of all the people you could’ve formed a Jedi Bond with, a Jedi Soulmate with,” Luke spoke, clenching his fists in anger. “It just had to be Y/N.”

•

14 Years Old

Ben walked around the the temple, trying to search for you. You had both agreed to meet each other at the roof but you weren’t there so he had figured you were inside instead.

“Weird,” Ben muttered to himself when he realised you weren’t there either. He then decided to go to your hut instead. “Maybe she’s running late.”

Ben never needed to knock when he went to your hut, you guys were close enough that he didn’t need to. So he walked straight inside your hut without a care in the world.

“Oh my god!” You yelled, as you saw Ben walk inside unannounced. Ben’s eyes widened as he it dawned to him you were naked. Your whole torso and breasts were on full show as your hands tried to cover your pubic region.

Ben felt a weird feeling he had never experienced before. He felt his member twitch in his pants before growing painfully strong. Ben didn’t know what was happening to himself, before quickly bolting out of your hut.

He ran towards his hut, feeling the hardness of his cock restraining against his pants. He then barged into his hut and thankfully his roommate was nowhere in site. He then ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

He was breathing heavily as he took of his pants and underwear. He watched in horror as his member sprang up and hit his lower abdomen. He then gulped, not knowing what to do.

His hand went carefully down to his member, trying to see what was wrong. As his fingers touched the tip, he let out a little hiss of pleasure. Red tinted his cheeks as he felt good.

He decided to try it again, this time holding his cock around his right hand. He then started moving his hand up and down, slowly before picking up the speed.

Ben started letting out little gasps of moans, feeling an unfamiliar pressure deep within him. This felt so good, Ben had thought.

He then pictured you naked, oh god you naked. That had made Ben let out a louder moan, pretending it was your hand doing the work.

“Y-Y/N,” Ben moaned out, moving his hand faster around his cock, precum oozing out of the tip. He then pictured you licking, kissing and swallowing it. He envisioned you sitting on top of him, riding his cock.

Soon enough, the thoughts got so filthy, Ben felt pressure release from his hips and cum spurt out from his cock.

He was a panting mess, sweat in his forehead. He looked at the chaos he had created on the floor and let out a sigh, thickly swallowing.

He then heard footsteps from outside before it came closer and soon enough outside the door. A knock was then heard from the bathroom door.

“Ben it’s me Y/N. I hope I didn’t scare you,” he heard your quiet voice. “I just got back to the hut late from practice with Leirra and I was quickly getting changed. If it’s not too late, we can still go to the roof top? If it’s fine with you?”

“It’s fine,” Ben called out, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too weird.

‘It was really fine,’ Ben had thought, grabbing tissues from near the sink as he begun cleaning the mess he had created.

•

16 Years Old

“Y/N hurry up, we’re going to be late for Daario’s 18th birthday,” Ben yelled out as he stood in the middle of your hut. It was a simple hut; a sofa in the middle with a carpet and a couple of books. Then there was two rooms, one for the bathroom and the other for the toilet. About only 10 people can fit into the living room, so the hut was pretty cramped. “Not that I wanna go, I hate the guy and pretty much everyone here. Except you. You’re alright sometimes-“

“Just wait a secound!”

“That’s what you said two hours ago!” He yelled back, before chuckling to himself. He then looked at himself in the mirror. He had a beige shirt, with the first four buttons open to reveal the beggining of his well defined chest. His hair was ruffled, his classic look. He also had black dress pants on with combat boots.

“Master Skywalker left to visit some resistant officers and will be back tomorrow, which means you don’t have to be the only person who doesn’t drink booze tonight,” Ben spoke, fixing his hair through the mirror. He did not hear you walk into the room. “Although I don’t want you to drink because it means I have to take care of you and-“

Ben stopped speaking when he saw your reflection from the mirror, his breath stuck within his throat. You wore a sheer, silk, tight-in-the-right-places red dress that touched the floor. It was off the shoulder and showed off cleavage and your collar region. Around your waist was a golden belt and you had golden bracelets lining your upper arm to match.

Your hair was done in a half-up half-down style, with the half-up being done in a complex braid. Your wore a deep red lipstick, one that had Ben’s thoughts in a filthy mess. “So, how do I look?”

Ben was speechless. He didn’t know what to say and he couldn’t form coherent sentences. To Ben, you were always a walking Goddess. He did not know why you someone like you had hung around with someone like him. You had him wrapped around your fingers. But right now? He wanted to pin you down and show you how he would’ve kissed you all those years ago if you waited a bit longer.

“You- you look-“ Ben stopped, his mouth still open. You blushed, looking down at your shoes. “Wow.”

Ben kept looking over your figure. It’s obvious that since you hit puberty, your body had matured. You had more curves and swells then Ben remembered.

“Uh- how about we head to the party now?” You suggested, your voice stuck in your throat. Ben quickly nodded, pulling down his shirt slightly to receive some air.

‘This is going to be a long night’, Ben had thought.

•

Music was filling the evening as every Padawan was dancing around the fire. The drums and laugher had filled Ben’s eardrums, as everyone was enjoying the 18th birthday of Daario, the second last person to turn 18 out of all of you, with you still being 16.

Ben watched as you danced around with Leirra; your sparring partner. You two had grown close since Master Luke had paired the both of you. She wasn’t as close as you and Ben, not by a long shot, but she was the one you went to for womenly advice.

You loved to dance, to have fun. Ben however was the opposite. He sat down, drinking down a non-alcoholic beverage whilst watching you. He didn’t want to be drunk so that he would be able to watch over you in case something unexpected happened.

He watched as you twirled around and laughed, your hair being blown by the wind. And Ben wasn’t the only watching. He watched as Almec too was watching you with a smile on his face.

It wasn’t a secret to Ben that Almec had a crush on you. Maybe a secret to you because you were blind to attention, but no secret to Ben. Ben hated Almec, always competed with him. He also found himself letting out his anger on him everytime the two had trained together.

Almec was truly in love with you, and Ben couldn’t blame him. He too had fallen hopelessly in love with you. But that didn’t stop Ben from being jealous everytime he tried to speak to you.

Ben and Almec were complete opposite. Ben had pale skin, raven-black hair and eyes whereas Almec was tanner with lighter eyes and hair. He was the perfect man. And maybe that’s why it made it harder for Ben. Because he was such a outgoing, loved man whereas he was quiet, with everyone being scared of him.

Ever since the bird incident, no one had tried to befriend him. Everyone was already scared of him. Everyone but you.

Ben felt a gaze on him, turning around to see Daario. Daario smirked before getting up, walking towards Ben’s direction. Ben let out a sigh, wanting to be left alone.

“Here we fucking go,” Ben muttered to himself before Daario walked over, taking a seat next to the Solo boy. Daario then looked over at you, watching you dancing.

“Beautiful isn’t she? Not a lot of girls here to compare her too but we all know she’s the most beautiful we’ll ever see in our lives. Tried to get with her last summer. But if there’s one thing I learnt,” Daario begun, watching as Almec tapped your shoulder before asking you to dance with him. You nodded with a blush, making Ben clench his fists. “Is that she looks past who she looks past.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Ben shot him an annoyed look, taking a sip of his drink. Daario looked at him, handing him the beer he had. Ben looked at it before shaking his head. He picked up the drink and chugged it all down.

“It means that once she gives you a label, that’s it, you don’t have a chance,” he begun, his eyes watching you and Almec dance. He whispered something in your ear, making you giggle. Daario let out a chuckle at that. “She sees you as a brother, a best friend. She won’t fuck you.”

“Excuse me?” Ben slammed down the drink, now looking at Daario who still had an arrogant smirk on his face. “What the fuck did you just say.”

“That she won’t fuck you.”

“You better show some fucking respect for her before I knock your teeth out,” Ben warned, getting up from his seat. Daario kept sitting down, crossing his arms.

“Hey what’s wrong,” Almec had asked you when he saw you slow down your dancing. You shook your head, grabbing your chest as you felt anger, hatred.

“Ben,” you had whispered, looking over to see him. He was meters far away from you. You saw him yelling at Daario, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. But you felt it. You felt the wrath, pain and jealousy. But the feeling you felt the most? Loneliness.

“I’m just saying man,” Daario continued, not phased by Ben’s towering figure over him. “She likes Almec. All your doing is getting in the way. And for what? She doesn’t want to fuck you, plain and simple. I mean, look at her right now? She’s basically pushing herself against him, trying to show off her fucking tits. She’s giving him blowjob eyes-“

Ben drew his fist back, punching Daario straight in the nose, a crack deafening sound following afterwards. The party went quiet as everyone watched on. Daario got up, ready to retaliate but Daario was never good with combat training. He ranked sixth out of everyone.

Ben grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up before slamming him against the floor. You let out a gasp, wanting to run over to him but you were held back by Almec. “Don’t. Ben’s too dangerous. Erratic. You’ll get yourself hurt.”

You looked at Almec, shaking your head at him, hurt by his choice of words. You then pulled away from him before running over towards Ben.

Ben kept hitting him in the face, blood pouring down Daario’s nose and staining his fists. He felt all the resentment, the betrayal and bitterness of his life come out.

‘Yes my Protigee, let it out,’ he heard a voice speak to him. Ben felt the voice encourage him as he continued to hit him. ‘Let all the anger and fear out on him. He’s worthless, a disgrace to the force.’

You watched in horror as Daario’s face was beyond comprehension, a hand covering your mouth. This isn’t Ben, this isn’t the Ben you know. “Ben stop! Please- just stop!”

‘End him,’ the voice encouraged him, drowning out your own. Ben felt adrenaline fill his veins as he lifted his arm up, using the force to pick Daario up from the floor. Daario begun coughing, unable to breath. All the Padawans were shocked as Ben was using the force to potentially kill someone.

Your blood ran cold as you saw the emotionless fire of his eyes. You watched as Daario gripped his neck, trying to desperately to allow oxygen to enter his lungs. Desperately clawing at his neck to have this all end now. You called out to Ben again with more urgency. But he didn’t listen to you. ‘Do it! End him now!’

“Ben stop you’re scaring me,” you spoke, making Ben freeze. Your breath was shaking, your heart beating a million miles per hour. You were scared out of your mind. For the first time in years, you finally found out what Master Luke, Almec and Leirra have been warning you about all these years. And yet, that still didn’t stop you. It only fuelled your passion to help him more. “Y-you’re scaring me Ben.”

Ben let out a small huff, before starting to breath heavily as he looked at Daario’s bloody face. The man was groaning, unable to breath. Ben felt your hand against his shoulder, making him put his hand down and drop Daario in the floor. Daario let out a wheeze, before gasping for air. “I- I don’t know what-“

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t- I don’t know what happened,” Ben shook his head. He felt the eyes of all the Padawans on him who haven’t spoken since the fight broke out. “I don’t- I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay Ben,” you whispered to him, your hand sliding down to grab his. “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

Ben nodded, feeling you pull him. He let you guide him to wherever it is you were taking him. He didn’t know what had happen, all he wanted to do was give Daario a single punch. But something, someone, in his head had pushed him to go further. To murder him.

And the scariest thing was, Ben was so close to doing it. If it wasn’t for you, he would have gone with it.

•

It was quiet between you and Ben as you were silently cleaning his fists. There were cuts and bruises, as well as blood that you knew wasn’t his.

You used the force to draw out water from thin air before breathing onto it, creating ice that you moved towards his bruises. Ben watched you in awe at your uniqueness. But he wanted you to speak to him, to talk. He wanted to explain himself, why he did it. But the truth is, he didn’t know why he did it. He just knows that there’s a darkness within him and he’s scared.

“Y/N-“

“Stop,” you voice cracked, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to escape your eyes. “I don’t- I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But we have to,” Ben replied back, watching as you tried to distract yourself with cleaning his wounds, continuing to draw out water to turn into ice for his wounds.

“You scared me today Ben,” your voice trembled as you chucked away the tissue. He felt a sharp pang in his chest.

“That’s the last thing I want to do,” Ben whispered. You looked away from him, staring at the wall as you felt a tear escape your eye.

“Since the day you found the dead bird, I- I have been protecting you, defending you,” you spoke, biting the inside of your cheek. “Every time someone spoke horrible things about you, every time someone warned me to stay away, I defended you. Because I care about you Ben. From day one, you were the only one.”

“And you’re the only one I care about,” Ben replied back, his eyes welling up with tears. But they didn’t fall. He didn’t let them.

“But you proved to them why I should stay away from you,” you sniffed, wiping your eyes. “So tell me Ben, why shouldn’t I stay away from you?”

“I can’t tell you why, but I can tell you the truth,” Ben spoke, getting up from his seat. “I have a darkness within me. I know you know that. I didn’t want to kill Daario, but a voice within me was encouraging me, tempting me. And I thought I- I was going to do it. But- but as soon as I heard your voice, I stopped. You bring out the light in me. You don’t need me. I don’t add value to you. But you do to me. So I’m begging you Y/N, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me like everyone else did.”

“How long has this voice been in your head?” You asked him. Ben looked down, a look of shame washing his eyes. You grabbed his jaw, making him look at you. “How long Benjamin?”

“Since I was four,” he admitted, a single tear escaping his eye. “That’s why my parents sent me here. They- they saw me-“

Ben stopped, shaking his head as he was too afraid to speak, afraid that he might scare you away. “Saw you what Ben?”

“I- I heard a voice. It told me to-“ Ben let out a small huff, trying to stop himself from crying. He grabbed his hand, rubbing circles. This had calmed him down the slightest. “It told me to kill my father.”

“Did you do it?” You asked him. Ben looked up, shaking his head at you. “Doing something and thinking something are two different things. You’re not a bad person. You’re just fighting the light versus the dark. And no one can blame you. Your grandfather went through the same thing. But Ben if you ever feel the darkness again, please come talk to me. Whether it is the middle of the night, early morning or even when I’m dead. I want you to try to speak to me. Promise?”

You rested your forehead on his. Ben closed his eyes, trying to savour this moment. “I promise.”

You closed your eyes too, trying to feel the moment. Your hand went to his cheek, brushing against it softly. You then opened your eyes. “Look at me Ben.”

Ben opened his eyes to see you already staring back. He felt himself in the trance, your eyes captivating. His heart was hammering against his chest and he could feel yours too. “I love you Benjamin Solo.”

You didn’t give him time to respond as he felt your lips against him. Ben was taken back, but this time he was determined to respond. He lifted his hand, grazing your jaw. He felt the softness of your lips against his.

His tongue traced the bottom of your lip before entering. His hands went lower before it stopped right above your bum, pulling you closer towards him. He felt your chest rub against him, making him kiss you even harder.

After a couple of minutes, you both pulled back, gasping for air. Ben studied your face for any regret but found none. He smiled, feeling absolutely blissful. This was his first actual kiss, and boy did he enjoy it. He looked at you with such an adoration and intensity that your whole face went red. He always made you feel like he worshipped you.

“And I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”

Taglist (CLOSED)

@lafy-taffy @ah-callie @eridanuswave @janilovecookies @penny4yrthoughts @hello-juuliana @lullaboid @artsyzartsi @ieatboyss @thescarletknight2014 @oh-mymendes @marrypuffsstuff @simonsbluee @i-have-arrived-bitch @lizziekins @treestarrrrrrrr @petalduck @forksoffortune @morningdangerheart @laubluered @killtherandomness @rintheemolion @channna @ashleymarieriffle @oopsiedoopsie23 @cynthianokamaria @spn-obsession @bugga-bee @idontliveanymorekay @theboyxwholived @bookgirlunicorn @princess-yuna @ren-ni @pokengirl2 @jonerys-was-canon @i-am-lokii-of-asgard @wecouldbreakthedistance @bellsclarkee @mell-bell @benflyingsolo @iwritefanficnotprophecies @freaky-dcaky @steve-thotgers @saucysuazo @gothicgirl100 @sincerelymaria @broadway-runaway @writtenbypics @autobotgirl15-blog @holacherrycola

[candesscampbell]

Home bound feeling Helpless!

When providing intuitive readings to clients, what I see most is that they are in transition. In fact, I believe most people worldwide are in transition. The identity one associated with in the past has shifted. Jobs are gone, loved ones have been lost and trust in the governmental powers that be, have been, and are scary. 

This began with me before Covid began. My brain function started to deteriorate and fatigue began to set in. This happened so slowly that I didn’t know what was happening. Allopathic doctors were not helpful. After months of being bedridden, I am now functioning again, with better understanding of my illness after educating myself.

Being homebound, isolated, unable to drive and not receiving adequate medical care, I was at a loss. The immediate response to any stress, be it action or thought resulted in extreme pain in my muscles. The inflammation flared. I fainted when I stood, I couldn’t eat, and I am now an expert on anything taught on television. 

It has been funny to watch myself when my normal abilities floundered and I was attempting to learn “the new me.” I attempted to get back to work too early, not knowing if I would get better or not. I am happy to say, I am now experienced in pacing, setting good boundaries and learning less is more. I’m still working on my filter! I am back in my somewhat active life, but not compulsively as before. I am peaceful and working part time. 

Having said that, what I want to share is the symptoms of ME, which I experience, are very similar to Covid Symptoms. This causes some hope and some concern. With the crossover between Covid and ME, doctors and other professionals who have been on the cutting edge of ME are gaining support. https://bit.ly/3Az4gwZ

My concern is that ME is more common than Diabetes, but the difference is that most doctors ignore it or won’t learn about it. I assume it is because they cannot find the cause yet. There is no parasite, virus, etc. that they can find. What they could have done though and others have done since medicine began is to know and monitor symptoms and to teach patients to monitor their symptoms. They could give them tools on how to balance their lives as best they can. If they are bedridden as I was, they could have connected me with a counselor to help me understand how to get simple help like food. One of the symptoms of ME is brain fog. I was not able to focus. It was like my mind was cross-eyed. I was better in the evening.  Although I did all I could to get my team of doctors to help me, they weren’t interested. I ended up losing my business. This is another story. 

Much of the time I was laying in bed, I was thinking there must be others who are suffering and don’t know how to get help. If you have a loved one who has brain fog and has a difficult time feeling like doing anything, please look at these symptoms. I was confused and couldn’t figure out my password for my online portal for the medical insurance company. It took months later to realize I could have used the phone. mhttps://bit.ly/3wkQzhT

What doctors are calling the long haul effects of Covid are similar to ME, without the lung issues.  

I have been a successful business owner; traveling internationally to facilitate workshops, publishing books and teaching and psychically reading clients. I worked as a mental health professional for many years. None of this mattered when ME took over. I couldn’t think well enough to save myself and the doctors looked at me like I was an alien, (apart from my spiritual woo-woo work) and when I lost some of my medication (safely tucked away in my tiny Altoids container I later found), the pharmacy treated me like I was drug seeking. 

The National Diabetes Statistics Report 2020 says that just over one in ten people in the US have diabetes. 

If ME is as pervasive, please talk to your friends, your family and co-workers to see if we are missing someone who might be suffering. 

If this is helpful I will share more. Let me know in comments below and be sure to sign up for more information at candess@candesscampbell.com.

  Home bound feeling Helpless! was originally published on Energy Medicine DNA

[spilledinkstories]

Darkness and the Man in the Window: by Nicole H (a short story)

“It’s raining, it’s pouring,  the old man is snoring;  he bumped his head,  and went to bed,  and couldn’t get up in the morning.” 

*****

Andrew Bennett was tired of killing people. 

In his twenty years working as a gardener, he had been hired by three separate estates to trim both their hedges and their family trees, and while he’d appreciated the extra cash and the opportunity to utilize his highly underestimated artistic flare, his partnership with the grim reaper had taken its toll. 

It was due to this fatigue, this growing hollow place inside his chest, that he was absolutely dreading his eight-o’clock-in-the-morning meeting with Morticia. But if Andrew was anything, he was a man of his word, and so at seven-fifty-seven on August 29th, his knobbly, weathered fist rapped sharply three times on her heavy black wooden door. 

“Punctual as always,” she said tartly. Her smile sent a troupe of ants parading up his spine, but he simply smiled back at her. They did not speak as she led him through the cavernous front entry of her manor house, down a hallway, and into her drawing room. Andrew personally found it strange that the drawing room was at the back of the house, but the view onto the lawn he groomed so meticulous was quite nice. 

“Tea?” 

“Coffee, if you’ve got it.”

“Of course.” And she poured a steaming cup of coffee, its aroma warming Andrew to his very core, giving him the courage he had been grasping for since entering this vapid house. 

“I don’t want to do it, you know.” His words came out a great deal sharper than he’d meant them to. As she slunk toward him, cup of coffee extended, he braced himself. She simply continued to smile. 

“I don’t see that you have a choice,” she said quietly, once she was directly in front of him. He gulped. 

“Is that so?” 

“I know what you’ve done. What you are. I could turn you in.” 

Andrew stared into her cold eyes, his heart nothing but a heap of ash. His eyes burned, bile stinging his throat, his stomach in the soles of his feet. He had a family that loved him, and a granddaughter that thought he was the most precious thing in the world. He couldn’t bear to make them deal with his mistakes. He sat down on the uncomfortable sofa, and accepted the coffee from Morticia. 

“There, now. Let’s discuss the specifics.” 

She took her time arranging herself amidst some lavish cushions on a sofa across from him, and took her time again studying his anguished features with devilish intent written all over her angular face. 

“As you know my husband and I own the morgue here in town, so first of all I’d like to extend our sincere thanks to you for all the business you’ve brought us.” 

Andrew tried to swallow his coffee, but his throat had turned to a roll of sandpaper, coiling tighter and tighter, and as he spluttered and choked she gave a tinkling laugh that made him want to hurl the delicate porcelain cup right at her face. He didn’t though. He steadied himself, taking off his cap and resting it on his corduroyed knee. 

She continued to speak. “As it happens, Mr. Bennet, my husband and I are well connected people. We know who comes into our morgue just as well as we know who put them there. And now that we’re in a spot of trouble, we can only be bothered to hire the best help in town.” 

“I’ll garden for free for you,” Andrew ground out. 

“Actually you’ll have to be fired as my gardener, you’ll understand that I can’t be connected to you once you’ve done the job. It’s a great pity too because we’ve been nothing short of thrilled with the work you do.” She cast an appreciative gaze over her shoulder to the back lawn of the house, with the pretty garden beds and well groomed hedges. 

“No, I need you to kill someone for me. And make it look like an accident.” 

“Would you get to the point, madam?” Andrew said. He was nauseous and wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never face the sun again, and she was clearly toying with him. 

“I need you to kill a surgeon.” 

Andrew blinked. He leaned back. He let out a booming laugh that took both himself and Morticia by surprise. It wasn’t that he thought it was particularly funny, but stress plays strange tricks on the mind. It was an impulse. He took the last gulp of his coffee and set the cup roughly on the polished table between them. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“It’s actually quite strange. A little funny, really.” 

“I don’t...” 

“My name is Morticia and I own a morgue. Does that not point you toward any ideas?” 

“You have a dark sense of humour,” Andrew ventured weakly. 

“My darling, I am Death, incarnate.”

There was a stark silence in which Andrew considered the very real possibility that the woman before him was raving mad. 

“Is that so?” was all he said. 

“This surgeon is after my husbands career, so I need to fix that. And, I need to have it look like one in a string of many unfortunate events.”

“A few things there,” Andrew said, and he stood up and began pacing, trying to burn off the nervous energy. “First of all, does your husband know what he’s married to? and second, why can’t you just kill him yourself?” 

She didn’t miss a beat. “No, he doesn’t know. He thinks I’m an ordinary woman. And I can’t kill the surgeon myself because it’s against the rules. They wouldn’t let me.” 

Andrew returned to his seat, not taking the bait to ask who “they” were. As his knee began bouncing convulsively and he rubbed his palms together to stop them prickling, he asked, “how could a surgeon be after a morticians job? Aren’t those direct opposites?”

For the first time, Morticia’s smile wavered. She rose and refilled their cups, taking a few steadying breaths. The twisting in Andrew’s gut intensified. That hollow place in his chest was swallowing up what was left of him, and if he carried this act out, he knew that would be the final straw. 

Morticia handed him the full cup and he gripped it, savouring the warmth it provided. It grounded him, made him feel real, and human. She sat, and finally met his eyes. 

“Whenever anyone pictures Death as a person, they picture the devil, or a creature in black cloak. Someone with horrible intentions and a penchant for evil. That isn’t who I am though. I have a schedule to follow, lists to maintain, it’s actually quite stressful. I don’t go around with a pitchfork killing people — big fan of your pitchfork murder, by the way, I thought that was really clever. Anyway, I simply facilitate death.”

Andrew wasn’t sure he understood how you could facilitate death without causing it, and he didn’t appreciate being called out for one of his killings either. He said nothing, and she continued. 

“I normally visit the local hospitals, under the guise of asking for follow-ups on our paper work. Those nurses are always getting it wrong. But I also visit the wards. I go to the ICU, and I speak to people. I see who is ready. I check it against my books.” 

Morticia stood, and crossed to the end of the room where vast bookshelves lined the walls. Andrew thought it was a shelf full of prop books, and wondered privately if she was just trying to seem impressive. But she ran an expert finger along the spines, selecting one once she was sure, and brought it to show Andrew. She sat next to him on his sofa, and he would have sworn before God the air got colder. 

She opened the book, and he was stunned to see a ledger. 

“This is last year,” she said, with the air of an accountant in a business meeting telling him he really ought to trim his expenses. Looking closer at the pages, Andrew saw that beside each name was a date, and in a third column there seemed to be one of four letters. N, M, A, or S. 

“What are these for?” He asked, pointing to an N. 

“N is for natural. A is accident, M is murder, and S – ”

“I see,” Andrew cut across her. “You still haven’t told me what mistake you made. Stop stalling.” 

Morticia sighed and went back to her sofa. Andrew was grateful to feel warmth return to the air around him. His head was getting fuzzy. It was as though he could hear a faint static, and see faint blurs in the edges of his vision. His pulse had quickened, and all together he felt quite ill. His eyes flicked to the lawn, and he imagined could smell the freshly mown grass and damp earth. Andrew swallowed, and the acid in his throat burned a little.

“I was at the hospital, and I overheard the surgeon talking to a technician. This surgeon happens to be my husband’s twin brother, and they also went through school together. One became a surgeon, the other a mortician, and everyone found it darkly funny. Anyway, I heard that he wants to take over my husband’s business. He wants to commodify his patients even further. It’s sickening. I was angry. I acted rashly. I wanted to make a note so I’d remember to talk to my husband about it and I just wrote the name of the surgeon down.”

“In your ledger?” Andrew asked. This was the most ridiculous story he’d ever heard, and vowed to himself that once he was out of this mess he was going to retire once and for all and never leave his house if he could help it. 

“It’s not something that can be undone.” 

“So I have to kill a man for you because you wrote down his name, have I got that right?” 

“I’m so glad you understand.”

“I don’t,” he said, nonplussed. 

“If he’s successful he will basically become a serial killer. He will make sure his patients die, so he can send them to his morgue, and double the bill for their loved ones. His name is in the ledger. So it’s final. I haven’t written a date yet. When can you get the job done?” 

Andrew blinked at her. “You can’t be serious,” he spluttered, beginning to stand, but she lifted and imperious finger and he halted. He thought of his family, his granddaughter, and the dark hole in his heart. 

“I will do it on one condition. Don’t pay me. Write down my name too.”

“What?” Morticia whispered. Her eyes were wide, and the flare she normally spoke with was replaced by an almost childlike awe.

“I am old. I hate myself. I’ve become a monster. Either kill me here and now, or if you insist I do it, kill me afterward. I can’t have my family knowing what I’ve done, so I’ll do what you say if it will protect them from knowing. But I don’t want to be around after.” 

“That’s no way to talk, Andrew. What’s one more?” She said it soothingly, like a mother speaking to a child being theatrical over a mild case of the sniffles. 

“What’s one more?” He croaked. “What’s…? It’s everything. I’m being swallowed up, and not much of me is left as it is. You’re pushing me over the edge. You’re driving me to it.” He was spitting the words at her, but she did not flinch. 

She spoke in a dark, low voice. “Making a deal with Death is no laughing matter, Andrew Bennet.”

“You’re the one striking the deal here. You’re welcome to walk away, and neither of us gets what we want.”

She did not answer. She picked up a pen that had been on the table between them, and slowly opened her ledger on her lap. 

“Simon Travers is the name of the surgeon,” she said, pointing her pen at the spot on the page that marked Simon’s fate. With a flourish, she began slowly etching a name underneath it, in the next vacancy. 

“Andrew Bennet. Call me when you’ve finished the job, and I will add the date for your entry.”

It was about noon when Andrew Bennet finally left Morticia’s house. She’d told him what hospital Simon worked at, and he’d said he’d call her. 

The hollow spot in his chest was writhing and expanding, pushing on his lungs so that he was panting for breath. He walked through downtown, and as he passed a shop window he saw a hunched, careworn man slouching down the street with no trace of life left in his eyes. It was his reflection, of course. His cellphone rang, and he watched the man in the shop window reach into the pocket of his jacket and answer the call. 

“Hi, Grandpa!” Came the happy little voice. He looked away from the man in the window, unable to watch. 

“Hello, dear,” he said happily. She mustn’t know anything was wrong. 

“Mom said next weekend we’re gonna come visit you,” she said happily. They talked for a minute, and he promised they’d make cookies and watch her favourite movie, and go out for lunch somewhere special, and then he hung up. He couldn’t handle this. Not again.

As he continued past shops, the man in the window fell into step beside him. He allowed a small smile to cross both their features, appreciating that the lighting was just right that day so that he didn’t feel like he was walking to the hospital alone. Feeling alone is so much worse than simply being alone, Andrew thought. Today, the world seemed to have understood that he couldn’t feel alone. Not now. 

It was an odd twist in the tapestry of life that caused Andrew Bennet to become a gardener in the first place. He had been a factory worker, close to retirement because his lungs couldn’t handle it much longer. His wife had suggested that he take up gardening on the weekends, to force him to get outside and clear his lungs. He’d fixed up their front lawn so beautifully, that when his wife threw his retirement party and invited the neighbours, he got quite a few requests. It was the combination of his exacting eye for careful detail, and his vision for what things could be, that gave him his edge. 

As he thought of this edge of his, the man in the shop windows looked at him and seemed to say do you remember how proud you were of your plan? He’d set up an elaborate mouse trap of gardening tools that resulted in his wife’s killer being run through in his own backyard. Technically an accident, and while many of that man’s neighbours had seen Andrew milling about the place tending to the flower beds, they’d also seen him carefully arranging his tool box every day. They knew him to be a measured, thoughtful man. Never absent-minded. He’d gotten off scot free. 

What about the second time, we weren’t so careful then, were we? The man in the window mocked. But Andrew was approaching the intersection in front of the hospital, and he decided it was too exhausting to go through his own ledger, so he said goodbye to the man in the windows. He crossed, and headed up the steep steps to the front doors. 

The lobby of the hospital was lit by large green-blue glass walls, giving the impression that it was a gloomy, rainy day outside despite the sun. It was sombre and sterile, and Andrew heaved a sigh as he approached the reception desk. 

“I have an appointment with Simon Travers, could you tell me where his office is please?”

“Of course, and may I get a name?” Said the receptionist without glancing up from her screen. 

“I’m a good friend of his brother, Scott, actually. My name is Andrew.” 

“I don’t see you here.” 

“His brother sent me. We spoke on the phone. Where’s his office?” 

“Whatever. Fourth floor, room two-fifty-one.” 

He walked away without thanking her. 

On the fourth floor, he got off the elevator and was greeted by a wide hallway, across which was a large cafe and seating space. Andrew felt the hollow spot inside him settle into a calm, background type of feeling, as a mixture of resolve, focus, and resignation took over his mind. He glanced at the signs on a post which told him that the room he was looking for was to his left. He crossed the hall and bought two coffees, then took them to a table in the corner where he could look out over the balcony at the floors below. 

He wasn’t really looking though. The main thing was that his back was to the hallway. 

He unzipped his jacket a little bit, and pulled out an envelop. Inside were some dried plants he’d brought with him. While he hadn’t known who Morticia had wanted him to take care of, he’d known what the meeting was about, and he’d come prepared. Being a gardener had given him certain advantages. 

To the untrained eye, he was an old man sitting alone with two cups of coffee, looking at a dried Queen Ann’s Lace flower, possibly mourning the death of a loved one, or else praying for their swift and safe recovery. To an expert however, he was carefully avoiding touching the Hemlock roots with his bare skin, as he rolled the dried stems between the paper of the envelop, dropping the fine powder and liquid from inside the roots into one of the coffees. Highly toxic, all he had to do now was get Simon Travers to take a few sips. He replaced the envelop carefully in his jacket pocket, and rose.

Room two-fifty-one was a prestigious office at the very end of the long hallway. The door was open, and hands laden with coffee, Andrew knocked gently with the toe of his shoe. 

“Simon Travers, yes? I’ve been so keen to meet with you.”

Simon Travers looked up from the papers he’d been reading, and his furrowed brow deepened as he said, “sorry, do I know you?” 

“No, we haven’t met, young man. I’m here for a chat about your practice,” Andrew said boldly, using the same foot to now ease the door shut. He crossed the room with a confidence and ease of gait that only comes with age and experience. 

“There you go, son,” he mumbled, setting the coffee down in front of Simon. He took a seat directly across from him, took a laboured sip of his own coffee, and set it on the edge of the desk with a satisfied “aahhh, there we are.” 

“Who are you?” Simon pressed, trying not to be too rude while speaking loudly and slowly. 

“Andrew Bennet is the name,” Andrew said in the same tone. Simon’s brows shot up, and he pursed his lips, an invitation for Andrew to continue. 

Looking at the young man before him, the hollow darkness in Andrew’s chest reared up, pushing on his lungs so hard he felt he might faint, pushing up his throat so that he could barely speak, and reaching his brain to form a dark cloud over his thoughts. He couldn’t very well snatch the coffee back, could he. His palms prickled with sweat, and he suddenly became aware of his own body odour. It was too late. His head was swimming. He was here. It was about to happen. Again. He didn’t want to watch. He shut his eyes, pressing his lids so tightly together he thought he might be able to force blindness upon himself. 

“Are you okay?” Simon’s voice sounded a long way off. Andrew hadn’t prepared anything to say to this young man. His plan had simply been to give him the coffee. 

“Listen, sir, I’ve got a surgery I have to perform in an hour. If you have something to say, spit it out.” 

And just like that, eyes screwed shut, a blinding clarity came over him. Maybe he wasn’t a bad person. He had been exacting justice this whole time. Avenging his wife was noble, and preventing the murder of several patients at the hands of a surgeon with a tendency for malpractice, well, that wasn’t so bad either. Andrew opened his eyes. Over Simon’s shoulder was a stunning view of the city. He let his gaze wander, curious if he could spot home from where he was sitting. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to insist that you make this quick.” 

Andrew’s eyes stayed on the glass but his gaze shifted, so he could see the man in the window again. He supposed he’d followed him from the shops on the street. Andrew watched the man in the window speak to the back of Simon’s head. 

“I haven’t got a lot of money and that coffee was a gesture you know,” he snapped. Simon pulled a face, picked up the cup and tilted it toward Andrew as though to say “cheers”, and took a swig. 

“Now, I’m here because Morticia said you’re her husband’s twin.” 

“Oh, here we go,” Simon said, rubbing a hand over his face. “What did she tell you, that I’m driving her business into the ground because I’m so good at saving people?” 

“What? No, she said you’re killing people to support your brother’s business, the business that you plan to steal from him.” 

Simon leaned back and let out a laugh without mirth. His chair turned a bit, and he stared out at the city before turning back to Andrew. “I save people for a living, do you understand that? I could never do something that monstrous.” 

“Why should I believe you?” Andrew said, feeling the roiling monster inside him start to gnaw on his ribs.

“Go ask any of the staff on this floor. I’ve been working at this hospital for nearly two decades and I’ve only ever lost two patients on the table, both during my fellowship at the beginning of my career. I’m a miracle worker, Mr. Bennet.” 

The smooth arrogance on Simon Travers face was not enough to condemn the man to death. If what he had said was true, Morticia had told a boldfaced lie, though why that should surprise Andrew he did not know. He no longer felt present. The darkness inside him had made its way through his brain, his bones, his heart…he watched Simon raise the coffee for another drink, the whole time staring with a triumphant glint at Andrew. 

When he set the cup down again, Andrew could see it was half empty. More than enough had been drunk. 

“My mistake then lad, sorry to bother you.” 

“Tell Morticia she can rot,” he said darkly. Andrew merely nodded and left the office, careful to close the door behind him. 

He made his way out of the hospital, and realized it wasn’t the glass that made the sky look rainy. It was now pouring. He didn’t care. He pulled out his phone, and called Morticia. She answered, and he said, “It’s Andrew. It’s done,” and hung up. 

He pulled his hat down more snugly on his head, and let the rain soak him as he stepped outside. He let it work through the thick denim of his jacket, let it make the corduroy of his pants turn to lead from the weight of the water. His feet squelched in his shoes, his socks sliding down and balling up under his toes. He let the water get into his eyes, welcoming the stinging, blurred vision. He let his nose run. He let all these things happen because they grounded him, made him feel present and real and human, even though the dark hollow thing in his chest was doing everything it could to prove otherwise. 

He had been right, when he was sitting in Morticia’s drawing room that morning. This murder had been the last straw. 

As he walked up the final block into the suburbs where his house sat, he wondered who had been the liar: Morticia, or Simon. He wondered if it mattered. He wondered whether he would have acted differently if it had been Morticia. He wouldn’t have, because she’d blackmailed him. He thought of his sweet granddaughter. He wondered if Simon had a family of his own. He hadn’t bothered to ask. 

While he was wondering all this, Andrew hadn’t been paying attention to his footing. His toe caught on a raised lip in the sidewalk that he trod every day - he had memorized this little raised lip and normally carefully stepped over it, but today was different. He crashed to the ground, smacking his head off of the concrete. 

He rolled onto his back. 

He let the rain thunder onto his face for a moment, allowing it to soothe the stinging on his forehead where his skin had broken. He swiped at his face. There didn’t seem to be too much blood. No one had been around to see Andrew Bennet fall, and as the old man hoisted himself back to standing he felt a small relief that his dignity wasn’t hurt. He shuffled the remaining few steps, not bothering to take his usual glance at his immaculate front lawn as he entered the house. 

Though it was only about five in the afternoon, Andrew shuffled upstairs and changed into dry clothes, and climbed into bed. He embraced the weight and warmth of the blankets after the long walk in the rain. He hadn’t turned on any lights, and as the dim early evening light lulled him into that blissful middle state between sleeping and wakefulness, he wondered if Morticia would keep her promise to him.

 As the rain kept pouring down, the darkness inside him pounded in his chest and in his head - though he couldn’t be sure if his head didn’t just hurt from its introduction to the sidewalk. 

Evening turned to twilight, which turned to night, and the darkness inside him ate up the entire room, easing him into slumber.

When morning came, Andrew Bennet did not wake.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Most (healthy) doctors are fucking incompetent when it comes to treating people with chronic illness. I mostly don't mean what to prescribe and what tests to run and stuff, although sometimes, I mostly mean, just...basic things. Like understanding that someone can have their chronic illness absolutely wrecking their ability to do anything at all, but also not be actively looking for treatment because it's been years and they've been trying and nothing's worked. Or that, for instance, "your test came back normal" is not always good news. If anyone reading this happens to be in med school or know a doctor or whatever: I had a suicidal thoughts flare-up after being informed, by email, that what was pretty clearly the last test to try came back normal. I would have appreciated a phone call, which idk maybe that's just not a thing people do any more, but if you'd do a phone call for "you're definitely going to be permanently disabled for the rest of your life" maybe treat "yeah, we don't know what this thing that is making you disabled is and will probably never know" the same way? Like, just because you can't diagnose it doesn't mean I'm going to be suddenly able to go back to living my life. Just because all the tests come back normal, does not mean everything is fine, and does not mean it's all in our heads either. Oh, and also? "Go to a therapist" isn't a fucking insta-cure ok? If someone shows up in your office saying they sometimes/always have trouble with survival stuff like personal hygiene or laundry or grocery shopping, that person NEEDS IMMEDIATE HELP (at dead minimum an OT referral) and not just a talk therapy referral. (I explained my fatigue wouldn't let me get to weekly therapy appointments, I got a shrug, I asked if there was a possible accommodation like doing it by phone, I was told probably not. Guess what happened months later when I followed up on the therapy referral because at that point I was suicidal? I got told some therapists made house calls if I was OK with a waiting list. I was shocked because it was the first time someone believed me about how sick I was, acted like that was a normal and plausible thing that could be worked around.) (And of course by now with the pandemic, we're all fully aware that remote therapy is possible, sigh.) (Anyways: if you have a chronic illness, or several, don't take this to mean that seeking treatment is hopeless, take this to mean that you might have to change doctors until you find one that isn't fucking incompetent. Some health care providers are actually quite solid on chronic illness. And even then it probably makes sense to do your own research (or have someone do it for you.))

[hmlegacy]

My COVID-19 Experience (Long Story)

In late September, around my birthday, my aunt got weirdly sick. This is the aunt that was diagnosed with Stage III or IV stomach cancer last October, in 2019. She took and completed chemotherapy successfully, her cancer is in remission, she was doing great. That being said, she just got off the chemo in perhaps July? If you don’t know, chemotherapy absolutely wipes out your blood cells and depletes your counts. This means you are susceptible to all sorts of illness.

We have been doing every guideline imaginable with this pandemic. We didn’t go out except for necessities--even if we did go out for a superfluity, we had the mask, we wore gloves and disposed of them, and we were constantly washing hands or using sanitizer. From March to October--7 months--we were good. Then all hell broke loose.

My aunt got diagnosed with pneumonia. The doc in the box, however, did get scans of her lungs and found the telltale crystallization and wanted to do a COVID-19 test. My aunt only had a few symptoms but, naturally, they were weakening her supremely. Just got off chemo. Thusly, because of this, she also was taking all necessary measures. Her best friend who lived down the street from her would bring her groceries...however, this best friend is also a community church leader, she would get the food from the banks and redistribute it to the homeless in our urban areas of town. A beautiful gesture...but is putting you around people that probably are not wearing masks.The friend is similarly sick but, due to my aunt’s immune system, her symptoms generate quickly.

My mom takes my aunt to the hospital because she is getting no better treating it as pneumonia. My mother is using the mask and everything but the negligent hospital actually allows her to stay in the room...because they think it’s pneumonia. It is not pneumonia. Come to find out, she is COVID-19 positive.

My cousin and I had a conversation with a longtime cohort of ours. It went like... “I got a call from (aunt’s best friend) and she was making these long dramatic pauses and my heart just plummeted.” I said, “Yea, you thought she was gonna say your mama was gone, right?” “Right! And she was just like...’I’m not feeling well’.” The cohort expressed his confusion as to why we were so...pessimistic. I advised “We’ve been through that call a lot”.

My aunt’s best friend died.

So, so, so much confusion. She was younger than my aunt, had some breathing issues but they were being treated, and she was very energetic. She went to the hospital--the hospital kicked my aunt out, saying it was not ‘safe for her’. My aunt went home...and recovered. They had her friend and kept her. Every day, the story changed but it sounded like...she was getting better? They were giving her steroid treatments, they put her in an induced coma to keep her fever down, the doctor said she’s doing ‘much better’. I woke up to my mother screaming. She was gone. She also had COVID.

My mother...went to where I work in administrative to get the testing. The only person she’d had contact with, really, was my aunt. She also had COVID...and, therefore, the rest of us had COVID.

I’m not describing the time frame well at all. It’s just jumbled. But there were spaces where COVID-19 was dismissed and not on the table by certain professionals. Testing here still is taking upward of 3-5 days. My dad, the hypochondriac, goes to a facility, they diagnose him with upper respiratory infection. Down the damn hill from there.

I love my dad to pieces but he is the most dramatic human being I know. He’s the type of person that will list details about the past and throw in a line like “so really, you’re lucky that you were born” or something to get an emotional response. And because I’m not that person, I’m just like “I mean, if I wasn’t born, how would that have affected me? I wouldn’t be there?”. He’s just a very...emotional human being and I’ll admit...we tend to not always take him seriously as a result.

I started coughing. Tired. Weak. Fatigued. My mom had similar symptoms. Nonetheless, if I had to call it anything, I’d say it was like a moderately bad cold. My dad also had the same but he kept saying, ‘this is bad. I’m telling you, this is bad’. As a reminder, I have T1 diabetes, hypothyroidism, and, per the diabetes, heart disease to a degree so I am not...a great candidate for being around illnesses. But, I trucked through and helped my mom care for my dad...after my aunt’s best friend died, my dad insisted we take him to the hospital.

This probably is where the story diverges away from ration and takes on what many might call ‘conspiratorial’...but, another reminder, we are black. Historically, our medical complaints get ignored until we are fully in the throes of the worst possible outcome or dead. I complained about my heart from the time I was sixteen years old, it was always kind of dismissed as ‘that’s weird’ and a shrug, and it took me having a small heart attack at 28 years old for it to be taken slightly seriously. The hospital that had been keeping the best friend? Well, in my experience, they literally kicked me out perhaps four hours after I had my stent placed. Basically, we don’t trust hospitals often.

My mom is sobbing. My oldest brother is irate. We don’t trust hospitals, he’s like, ‘no, no, don’t take him to the hospital. What happened to best friend is going to happen to him’. I’m thinking, ‘look, I’ll take him to my alma mater’s hospital, they’ll do the testing, they’ll reassure him, and he’ll feel better’. That’s how his hypochondria works, once he knows what it is, he recovers so much better, even if it is the basic cold. So I take him, they give him a pulse ox reader, an inhaler, and tell him to isolate until the results get back and send him home.

We’re all relieved. For a few days. He is deteriorating. I try to treat him for his symptoms but he is not doing great. I took his pulse ox, it was reading 75. Should be in the upper 90s, ya’ll. I called my alma mater’s hospital, she basically admits the things are faulty, but, that if it’s showing that low, it’s probably not a good sign and he needs to come to the hospital. Panic again, I take him back.

By this point, I’m like, ‘Do I even have this thing? I’m treating it like I do but...’. So, when I take him in, I tell them we’ve had exposure and I would like to get tested. The hospital takes me back and a nice nurse tells me, ‘look, this thing is crazy. It’s essentially unavoidable--it’s everywhere. And it is not being addressed correctly’. While not reassuring in any way, this did make me realize it was just a matter of time before this occurred...just wasn’t expecting it like this.

Naturally, because this is where I get all my treatment, they go in and find that, uh, you had a heart attack? And, essentially, they just admitted me. I was like, ‘no, no, I’m okay, I think, I just want testing’. But they give me the whole routine to be safe, x-raying my lungs, blood tests, EKG--my EKG looked normal when I was having the heart attack, I really just want them to stop utilizing this thing. I hung around, they took the test, found everything looked okay...but they are going to admit my dad.

They allow me to go see him which was also crazy and I hung around for a while. He looks really, really bad. This is not his dramatics. I video call my oldest brother and he’s just devastated because, seriously, if any of my dad’s dramatics are at work, it seems like he’s just given up. But he does insist he hasn’t, he just doesn’t know. I tearfully leave him and the doctors here seem a bit bewildered by my response and insist he’s going to be just fine. I look at my online portal results in a few days, I also have COVID.

My older brother is on the autism spectrum. He is verbal to a very, very small degree--he speaks words but you have to know him to know how to apply them (Like “left” means “the highway”). It’s a very short list of words and he doesn’t offer many to us to use to have him understand--mostly because, if anything, he is insanely stubborn and does not want to understand. It is his way or he’s going to have a violent outburst or just flat out ignore, even to his detriment. My mom was eating a bowl of soup--he snatched it from her, something he has never done, and basically drinks it. Before anyone can say anything, he has consumed this bowl of tainted soup and we’re all just gawking at him in horror.

Needless to say, he also got COVID-19. He was...okay, for a bit. Seems to be the story. Then, slowly, he just can’t get out of bed anymore. He starts vomiting, he has gastric issues, he cannot eat, and he is falling. Meanwhile, my dad is in the hospital and I am increasingly fatigued and hurting. My knee injury from 2011 flares up intensely and I am in excruciating pain. I’m like, ‘this cannot be COVID’. Nope. It is, per the nurse assistant I called.

Everything--and I mean everything this illness could have targeted, it targeted. I was nauseous, I was hot (but no fever?), in pain, and tired. But, again, because my mother and I were the least sick in the house, we had to keep trucking along. My dad stayed in the hospital for a week. He started hallucinating and I guess that was the final straw, they said, ‘he’s good’. I went and picked him up, he was...weird. He came home with a lot of tomfoolery and drugs that literally had as the first accepted side effect ‘hallucinations’ and incessant hiccups. Again, another symptom of COVID.

We fixed that. But my poor brother, he was...he was in tough shape. Like, he could not keep anything down. There were days where he seemed to recover and then went back down for the count. Because this particular hospital did so well with my dad, we took him there as well. It’s a little trickier with him, if he does not want to be there...he does not want to be there. He was ready to go by the morning of the next day and was in full angry mode at points. Only my mom could stay, however, so she had no real calming support. They didn’t really get a good grasp on what was wrong with my brother--they tried multiple diagnoses but none of them checked out. They found his anti-seizure meds were destroying his blood counts so they changed that and sent him home...so he could just continue to be fatigued and tired.

Everyone...is okay. My aunt recovered but her best friend and closest companion is gone. The husband’s family blamed my aunt at the woman’s wake, over her body, for her death and, if you ever wonder why I write such dramatic stuff, this is why, this is the nonsense I end up around. I can’t...imagine the pain of not being able to properly attend your best friend’s funeral because of shunning but my aunt was in pieces and I admit, I was ready to go fight some people. My cousin almost did--I promise you, this lady was the sweetest woman and, if there is an afterlife, she is probably just as appalled. Her mom called my aunt and told her not a living soul in the best friend’s family thought she had anything to do with it.

I write this long AF journal to say...this thing is all types of real. I didn’t have it that bad--the mildest form, I would say, compared to most, just aside from being asymptomatic. But I do feel somewhat different. My thoughts feel like they’re in a fog--I’m still a bit tired but I’m always tired. Forgetfulness and jumbled are my biggest peeves though. I’m keeping sharp but, observing it in my parents, it’s a little...concerning. We luckily don’t seem to have longterm breathing issues but...

Bro is okay. I’ll admit to my fault that we didn’t a hundred percent realize how bad that drug for his seizures were. Depakote...was apparently a big component in a lot of his angry outbursts. He’s been having these outbursts for twenty years. I don’t...understand how he had all these doctors that we explained his behavior to and they were just like ‘that’s normal’ when he has meds with these side effects. The new meds, unfortunately, made him depressed so he was crying a lot and we don’t like that either but with some tweaking, he’s...about the nicest guy. Still demanding, really, but he’s...got more patience. Not bursting into tears too much or angry too much, just very balanced and cordial. About...really the only good thing to come out of this.

I will say, do take this seriously. We weren’t fooling around and got this thing, we were helping a family member not die. But that means you can definitely get this with some of the behavior I’ve seen--please, we’re getting new leadership, we’re well into a vaccine--I know people can’t avoid work. I know people can’t always avoid going out either--it is detrimental to a lot of people’s mental health which I don’t think many people on specifically this site grasp? There’s multiple reasons why being contained in a house is not mentally healthy for some people. That being said, don’t...go to weddings with hundreds of people? Don’t have weddings with hundreds of people. I know we all had plans for this year, I know I did--but don’t be a source for anyone having to suffer. If you must, if you want, just keep it small and contain yourself afterward. We are almost there.

My experience was a best outlook outcome...and someone in the story still died.

[klove0511]

Enough

Title: Enough

Link: AO3

Square Filled: Pups

Ship: Sam/Castiel

Rating: T

Tags: infertility, alpha!Cas, omega!Sam, married couple, implied sexual content, implied mpreg

Summary:  Sam stared at the negative pregnancy test and tried to curb his disappointment. He’d thought that this time—No. He hadn’t. He’d hoped, maybe, but he hadn’t expected a positive test in years. It didn’t make it any easier. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and ignored the burning behind his eyes as he rinsed out his mouth. It only helped dissipate the sour taste a little. He thought about brushing his teeth but decided it probably wasn't worth the effort when he knew he was going to be puking again in an hour.

Word Count: 1632

Created for @spnabobingo

Sam stared at the negative pregnancy test and tried to curb his disappointment. He’d thought that this time—No. He hadn’t. He’d hoped, maybe, but he hadn’t expected a positive test in years. It didn’t make it any easier. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and ignored the burning behind his eyes as he rinsed out his mouth. It only helped dissipate the acidic taste a little. He thought about brushing his teeth but decided it probably wasn't worth the effort when he knew he was going to be puking again in an hour.

“Sam? Are you ok?” Cas’s voice carried through the door.

If Cas was checking on him then he must have been in the bathroom longer than he thought. He threw out the test and checked himself in the mirror. He looked like shit, but the stomach flu did that to a person. Splashing some cool water on his face helped, and so did running his hand through his hair. It made him feel more normal, less like the person fucking up his marriage one heat at a time.

Opening the bathroom door revealed a haggard Castiel. One look and they were on the same page. Sam hated it, but it was a familiar dance by now. He brushed past his mate, hoping he could lose himself in a book for a while until the sting of yet another negative test passed.

“Sam.”

“No.” Sam didn’t turn around to face Cas, but he stopped walking toward the stairs. “We both knew it was the stomach flu. There’s nothing to talk about.”

God, Castiel stank when he got upset. His scent turned bitter, acrid with anger and frustration. Sam suspected he did too, though he couldn’t smell it. No wonder their friends didn’t come over much anymore. The whole place had to smell like rot and death.

“You’re wrong; we do need to talk.” Castiel had followed him to the living room. Sam just wanted to disappear inside himself for a few hours, maybe puke some more. He didn’t reply. Cas sighed. “Fine. Another time. This can’t go on forever, Sam.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to his mate leave the room. He was a broken, worthless omega that couldn’t even get pregnant, and Cas thought they needed to talk. The rational part of his brain said Cas was probably just worried, but the rational part wasn’t driving the bus right now. It had been drowned out by all the feelings of worthlessness and failure that bubbled to the surface every time another test came back negative.

 Two days later, Sam was feeling mostly normal again. The vomiting and fatigue had subsided, and with it, his disappointment was starting to fade to its usual level. It was always hardest in the moments after a test, but day to day Sam felt like he compartmentalized his grief well. He kept busy with work or chores or reading, anything to avoid looking to closely at the pup-shaped emptiness in their family. At the moment, he was just starting to chop vegetables for dinner, and the quiet felt peaceful for once instead of oppressive.

Of course, Castiel chose that moment to confront him with the conversation they’d been avoiding. “Sam.” It was quiet but firm, and Sam knew he wouldn’t be able to evade this discussion anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, equally quietly.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“I promise I don’t. I know you, though, and I’m certain you are apologizing for something that is not your fault. So, please. Tell me.” Cas’s voice carried his frustration, and Sam’s nose flared as the air turned sour around them.

Sam couldn’t help his grim smile. “I can’t get pregnant.”

It was the first time either of them had said it out loud so bluntly.

Gently, as if afraid he would spook Sam into bolting, Cas took one of Sam’s enormous hands into his own. “We don’t know that.” Cas paused, and Sam struggled to keep his protests to himself. It was the only explanation. He was broken. “The doctors said—"

“That we just needed to keep trying, I know. But. Cas, we have. For six years.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe we just need to try a little longer.”

Cas shook his head furiously. “This is killing you, Sam. I can’t—I—It’s enough. We’ve done enough.”

Sam felt cold fear settle in his stomach and thought his stomach flu might be making a comeback. “What are you saying?”

Cas winced. Sam tried to relax his grip on Cas’s hand, to calm his scent, anything to take that expression off his mate’s face, but Cas held on tighter, refusing to let go. “There are options.”

“You want to stop trying.” He’d heard stories of this happening to other omegas who couldn’t ‘perform’ to expectations, known this issue was straining their marriage to the breaking point. Nothing could have prepared him, though, for Cas abandoning him.

Cas shook his head vehemently. “Not like you mean. Sam, I will never turn you away from our bed. I want—I want us to stop obsessing. To stop seeing every illness as a pregnancy symptom. If it happens, then wonderful. If it doesn’t, then there are other ways to grow our family. Adoption, for example.”

“Adoption.” Sam scoffed. Adoptions almost never worked out with alphas. Their instincts were usually just too strong to accept a strange pup into their pack.

“Think about it, please?”

Sam nodded stiffly, and Castiel squeezed his hand before finally releasing it and leaving Sam to his thoughts.

 Dean flopped on the couch beside his brother, reaching for his beer before lifting his feet on to the coffee table. Sam tossed a glare at him, then turned back to the game on TV. They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two before Dean cleared his throat. Sam glanced over and silently groaned. Dean had his “serious conversation” face on, and Sam thought he might punch the next person who asked how he was.

“Cas said you’ve been sick.”

Sam sighed. He loved Cas so much, but now he was sending Dean to check on him? “It was the stomach flu.”

“Yeah, he said. He, uh—” Dean grumbled and sighed. “Look, you and Cas ever actually talk about having kids?”

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam glared at his brother.

Dean threw his hands out defensively. “I’m just asking, Sam. It’s not like you talk to me about this crap. Look, I saw a test in the trash when I went to the bathroom. Cas said you’ve been sick. I did the math. Cas know you don’t want pups?”

“You think I don’t want kids? Dude, we haven’t used birth control since the night we mated.”

Dean looked around, as if he might see a gaggle of kids he’d somehow missed running around. “What? You’ve been married six years! I always figured you two just didn’t want any. I mean—”

“I know.” Sam stared at his hands.

“Have you tried—”

“We’ve tried everything. I just…can’t. There were a couple times I thought—But then I went into heat, so—”

“Sam.”

“Don’t.” Sam shook his head and swallowed hard.

Dean worked his jaw for a moment or two before nodding. “How’s Cas?”

Sam shrugged. “Wants to try adopting.”

Dean grimaced. “You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know, but he’s right. What we’re doing, what we’ve been doing, isn’t working.”

Dean paused, thoughtful, then smirked. “Well, if adopting would work for anyone, it would be you guys. Wouldn’t be the first time our family picked up some strays.”

Sam chuckled. “Dude, we were the strays. Bobby took us in.”

“Exactly.” Dean grinned.

Sam laughed and sipped his beer. Maybe. Maybe it could work, despite the statistics. In any case, finally talking to Dean about everything had made him feel better than he had in a long time.

 Cas was reading in bed, and Sam thought he looked adorable. Even when he read for fun, Cas focused his entire being on what he was doing, studying the novel in front of him with an endearing intensity.

Sam leaned on the doorframe, smiling softly to himself. “Hey.”

Despite his intense focus on his book, it only took one word from Sam to get Cas’s attention. “Sam. Is everything all right?”

“Thanks for siccing Dean on me today.”

Cas’s forehead crinkled in confusion.

“We talked. And…I thought about what you said.”

This time, Cas closed the book and set it on the nightstand.

Sam stared at his feet for a minute, then lifted his eyes. “If you think we can make it work, then I’m on board. But—”

Cas nodded. “I know. The statistics regarding successful adoptions are discouraging. Alpha instincts are difficult to fight. But, Sam, I know us.”

Sam smiled. “Ok then.”

The delight that lit up Cas’s face was beautiful, and Sam couldn’t help pressing a kiss to his mate’s lips. Cas let out a small moan and tugged Sam onto the bed with him. Sam growled and allowed Cas to flip them.

Cas latched onto Sam’s shoulder, sucking and biting over his mating scar. Sam groaned and pushed at Castiel’s clothes, trying to get some skin contact. Cas detached himself long enough for Sam to remove his shirt, and he took the chance to strip Sam. It was good, and it was easy in a way it hadn’t been for far too long.

After, they lay together, panting and sated and melting into each other. Sam drifted in a state of lazy satisfaction, basking in his mate’s affection. Tomorrow, things would still be difficult. Sam would still feel broken. Their marriage might never get back to where it used to be. But now, maybe, things could finally start getting better.

[gogh-save-the-bees]

Fibromyalgia Masterpost

As someone who has struggled with severe chronic and pain fatigue for over a decade and have recently been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia - I have decided to research my condition amd educate myself on my symptoms.

Fibromyalgia, also called fibromyalgia syndrome (FMS), is a long-term condition that causes pain all over the body. As well as widespread pain, people with fibromyalgia may also have: increased sensitivity to pain. fatigue (extreme tiredness) muscle stiffness.

Through my own research i have learned that many difficulties i have are directly linked to Fibromyalgia. There are over 200+ symptoms and while not everyone will expereince all of them, we experience our own combonation of debilitating symptoms.

With anything, education is key.

If you have fibromyalgia, have a family member or friend with the condition or would like to be more educated on the condition this post can help.

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to know everything about fibromyalgia. This post will not list everything so i urge you to do your own research. And if you have any of these symptoms, go to your doctor!

Symptoms (most common)

All over pain is the most common symptom of fibromyalgia but the syndrome causes many others. Extreme fatigue , trouble sleeping and feeling stiff and achy. Your ability to think and make decisions can be affected (this is known as fibro-fog).

As well as widespread pain, your muscles can be very tight and knotted. They can be painful to touch and they radiate pain to other areas - these firm knots are myofascial trigger points. (These knots are commonly used to diagnose fibromyalgia in a physical pressure point exam)

Other Symptoms

Cold feet and hands

Feeling cold often/feeling hot often

Heart palpitations

Craving carbohydrates

Symptoms worsened by temperature changes

Unexplained weight gain or loss

Joint pain

Feeling spaced out

Restless Leg Syndrome

Noise intolerance

Scalp Pain (like hair being pulled out)

Sensation that you might faint/ Syncope (fainting)

Tinnitus (ringing in one or both ears)

Photophobia (sensitivity to light)

“Growing” pains that don’t go away once you are done growing

Transposition (reversal) of numbers, words and/or letters when you speak

Difficulty with long-term memory/and short-term momory

Difficulty following conversation (especially if background noise present)

Difficulty expressing ideas in words

Blind spots in vision

Eye pain

Excessive sleeping

Difficulty falling asleep/ Difficulty staying asleep

Difficulty balancing

Vivid or disturbing dreams/nightmares

Sensitivity to the sun

Bruising easily

Sensory overload

Allodynia (hypersensitive to touch)

Menstrual problems

Suicidal thoughts

Irritability

Abrupt and/or unpredictable mood swings

Frequent crying

Diagnosis, Medical Help and Treatment

If you think you or someone you know has fibromyalgia go see your doctor. Tell them about your symptoms and explain that you think it might be fibromyalgia. Keep in mind that a diagnosis can take time and you have to be persistant and in many cases fight for your diagnosis!

Common treatment involves pain medication, anti-depressants, physiotherapy and therapy (CBT and pain managment).

Self Help

The most common coping technique for chronic pain is breathing exercises and meditation. Try the following,

Put yourself in a relaxed, reclined position in a dark/or low-light room. You can shut your eyes or focus on a point.

Begin to slow down your breathing. Breathe in deeply, using your chest. If you find your mind wandering or you are distracted, then think of a word, such as the word "Relax," and think it in time with your breathing...the syllable "re" as you breathe in and "lax" as you breathe out.

Do this for 2 to 3 minutes or until you feel relaxed.

Now that you feel yourself slowing down, you can try to use imagery techniques, like the ones below.

Positive imagery

Focus your attention on a pleasant place that you can imagine going to - the beach, mountains, a place where you feel safe and relaxed.

Positive self-talk

Encourage yourself and tell yourself: I can do this, I am strong and capable. Find a positive coping statement or affirmation that works for you (even if you don't believe it at first!). Write it down and memorise it for when you need it.

Counting

Counting is a good way to deal with painful episodes. You can count aloud or in your head. You can count breaths, the number of yellow items in your room, the floor tiles, or even visualise some sheep and count them!

Grounding techniques

Look around you, what do you see, hear, smell, sense? Say aloud (or in your head):

5 things you can see? 4 things that you can touch? 3 things you can feel? 2 thing you can smell?

It can also be helpful to use sensory items like plushies, fidgets, slime, and more! Anything that brings you comfort or joy or relaxation.

Pamper yourself

Do something you really enjoy, or do something relaxing like a bubble bath!

Mindfullness Box

Make a box of items that remind you to use the techniques that help, or put photos on paper, or write and decorate a list. (This box can be filled with items to help with depressive episodes)

The daily fight with fibromyalgia goes beyond pain management and fatigue and it's important to be educated on all aspects of the condition.(Especially if you or someone you care for has a diagnosis)

What are the facts

Fibromyalgia is a neurological illness and involves neurotransmitters (chemical messengers in the brain) that are also involved in some mental illness. This means that depression and anxiety are common overlapping conditions in fibromyalgia.

Stress is a major exacerbating factor in many, if not most, cases of fibromyalgia. It's suspected as a causal factor and known to make symptoms worse and cause flare-ups.

It is also believed that childhood trauma may alter the body's physiological stress response leading to illness later in life.

Looking after your mental health is just as important as physical treatments when treating fibromyalgia. (I should state that fibromyalgia is a chronic illness and that there is no cure for the condition.)

When it comes to fibromyalgia patients seeking mental health help it's not much different from someone without the condition seeking similar help.

The major difference would be around pain managment and the emotional distress that comes with daily pain and the inability to live a normal life. It's common for fibromyalgia sufferers to feel hopless/helpless and worthless alongsides feelings of frustration.

It is believed that depressive episodes, mood swings, suicidal thoughts and suicidal attempts are all symptoms of fibromyalgia and it is very common for fibro-sufferes to struggle severly with poor mental health.

Treatments such as anti-depressants, anxiety medications and therapy are commonly suggested alongsides pain medications. Both help the other as stress and low mood decrease our ability to cope with pain.

Mental Health Techniques

Keep a mood diary

This will help you keep track of any changes in your mood, and you might find that you have more good days than you think. It can also help you notice if any activities, places or people make you feel better or worse.

Connect with people

A good support network will always be a good thing. Having people you can reach out to when in distress is a important part of recovery and having good mental health.

Take control

If the problem has a solution, make it happen! Don't let thoughts like "i cant do anything" hold you back as they only add to the problem. But,

Accept the things you can't change

Changing a difficult situation isn't always possible. Especially when you have a disability. Instead, try to concentrate on the things you do have control over.

Try to be positive

Look for the positives in life, and things for which you're grateful. Challenge thoughts like "I can't do this" or "there's no point" or anytype of thoughts which are negative and defeatist. They won't help, chuck them out!

TIP: Try writing down 3 things that went well, or for which you're grateful, at the end of every day.

Work smarter

What i mean is, some tasks are more important than other. As someone with a chronic illness it's not always, if at all possible to do more than one task a day. Often we are forced to choose between making food or cleaning and we have to learn to prioritise based on a number of factors. Don't feel bad when you can't do a lot or even anything, your pain and illness is valid and the last thing you need is to feel guilty about something you can't control.

If you have to choose between washing the dishes or preventing a flare up - your health wins everytime.

Diet, sleep and exercise...

It can be frustrating we all you hear is "you should exercise, eat healthy and have a good sleep routine..." and somehow people think that this will heal us. This is not the case.

Yes, a healthy diet, sleep schedule and light exercise is good for us but it's not as easy for us to achieve. There are many factors that make access to these difficult (poverty being the big one). But, lets ignore that for now (like everyone else does).

Okay, lets say we eat a healthy diet. We can't always follow a sleep routine because we have severe pain that is generally worse at night. We also struggle with other symptoms that are more prominant at night (restless leg syndrome, heat intolerence, twitching, nightmares...) that make getting to sleep and staying asleep very difficult. And, exercise is the hardest of them all. We cant go to the gym and get our sweat on. It's not in the cards. Every chronically ill person has been told to eat healthier, sleep better and exercise and it's not helpful. In fact, it only adds to our stress. If you don't know what you're talking about (e.g. you suffer from a similar chronic illness or are a medical professional) then shut up!

Excerise when you can. Don't excert yourself. Swimming is one of the best options. Eat as healthy as you can (but any food is better than nothing) and try your best to keep a sleep routine. But don't stress when these things arent possible, they won't cure you, they will only help you decrease your symptoms and make them more managable.

This has been a long post, congradulation on making it to the end! I hope this post has been educational and helpful in some way or another. Feel free, encouraged even, to reach out to me with any questions, i am happy to amswer any to the best of my ability. Please reblog this post so other fibromyalgia sufferes can have a read and add to the post if they wish.

I would also like to add that i am looking for fellow spoonies to follow on here and instagram (@gogh_save_the_bees) give me a follow and ill do that back!

[howtobeapersonwithfibro]

Fibro Blog #9 - Guilt

I had to stay home from classes today, and as usual, I find myself feeling guilty about it.

I only have two class days a week this semester, with days in between that I can usually use to rest, but sometimes it’s not enough. Or sometimes I try to be productive on my days off and push myself too far. One way or another, there are days that I wake up and I just know I’m not well enough to go. The pain and fatigue are too much.

I feel like there is so much pressure in school and work to be there every day, on time, for the whole day, and that is just not possible for some of us. Most normal people don’t even think about trying to go to school when they feel sick. Why should the chronically ill have to agonize over the decision?

For normal people, who are used to a 0/10 on the pain/discomfort scale, they start getting pretty uncomfortable with a 3 or 4, or maybe a 5 if they’re a bit of a badass. They feel those unpleasant physical feelings, whatever they are, and they think, “There’s no way I’m going to make it into school/work today. I’ll just stay home.”

But what happens when your baseline is around a 5? It doesn’t make a 5 feel like a 0. It still feels as uncomfortable and painful as a 5. But when you feel like that every day, you can’t stay home every day if you have obligations. So you learn to fight through it. That becomes your new normal.

And what about those days when the pain or other symptoms flare up? When you’re in more of a 6 or 7 or 8 in terms of your overall discomfort? But you remind yourself that society expects you to be there, and you should be there if you can. You don’t want your professors to think you’re not trying, or your lazy, or you’re using your illness as an excuse. Sometimes you even think those things about yourself.

But you have to remember that those things are not true. You try harder than just about anyone else, because you fight that pain, fatigue, whatever it may be, every single day. You are allowed to have exceptionally bad days, and on those days you are allowed to forgo things you (and others) expected yourself to do.

We must teach ourselves to resist the guilt and shame we feel when we ‘give in’ to our bad days. Even if those bad days are frequent. Even if people accuse us of not trying. We must remember that we are allowed to feel the effects of our illness and give ourselves rest to try to recover from bad days. We can’t try to force our illness aside just because society wishes we could.

I am allowed to have bad days, and to do nothing but rest on those days if I need to.

Say it once. Again. Repeat it until you believe it.

[help-on-four-paws]

How I Help My Girl as a Medical Alert and Response Dog

To read the original blog post, click here.

TW: self-harm mention

This photo was taken while I was just finishing up doing Deep Pressure Therapy for my girl. I moved to her legs because her body had already started responding to the pressure I'd been putting on her chest earlier, so she just needed some final grounding before this episode passed. You can see from my face how seriously I take my job!

A Medical Alert Service Dog performs a trained behaviour to indicate that their handler is about to have or is currently having a medical episode,* and a Medical Response Service Dog helps a handler who has a medical disability.  Both types of Service Dogs can assist with a range of medical conditions, from epilepsy to type 1 diabetes, and from postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome to narcolepsy, and everything in between.  It's not uncommon for a dog who is a Medical Response Service Dog to also be a Medical Alert Service Dog, because we dogs are perceptive creatures with strong noses and will often pick up on our handler's changes in body chemistry.  Remember, though, that a Service Dog under the ADA must be "individually trained" in the task(s) that they perform for their disabled handler.  This means that a dog who performs a natural medical alert does not qualify as a Service Dog in the US unless that alert is reinforced by the handler (or a trainer) since the Service Dog must be "trained to take a specific action" under the ADA.  As a Service Dog for my girl, I am both a Medical Alert and Medical Response Service Dog because I perform tasks both that alert her to a medical episode and that are in response to medical episodes.

Because my girl has such a broad range of symptoms, I also have a variety of alert behaviours so that I can tell her exactly what's going on with her body.

As I explained in my post about my Psychiatric Service Dog tasks, I alert my girl to rising anxiety and incoming panic attacks through a variety of her body's signals.  One of the very first tasks I learned to help my girl was pawing with increasing intensity in order to interrupt her when she starts nervous-scratching or picking at herself.  Her anxiety causes her to do this unknowingly, often to the point where she bleeds, and since the scabs that form become itchy, the cycle can continue quite easily -- so the trick is interrupting the cycle so that she can catch herself before she starts bleeding, which is exactly what I do!  This pawing also acts as an anxiety alert because the scratching indicates that her anxiety is rising close to the point of "no return."  I can also alert to increasing heart rate or elevated cortisol as signs that her anxiety is rising, as well as to her anxious "hand flapping" that she does as a physical anxiety tic, and I use a paw for these as well so that all anxiety alerts are clumped together into one behaviour.

A couple years ago, my girl added a hypoglycemia alert to my repertoire of tasks.  Her GI issues are understandably the (most likely) culprit of her drops in blood sugar, which itself causes an assortment of un-fun symptoms, but the situation is even more nuanced than that: thanks to my girl's chronic nausea, she often doesn't want to eat, but she has to be careful because blood sugar dipping too low can be a trigger for her migraines, which can last multiple days.  As you can imagine, my girl is grateful for any kind of preventative action!  My hypoglycemia alert can tell her when she absolutely needs to push past her nausea, even if eating causes its own form of discomfort, because that discomfort is the lesser of the two potential evils.  I currently alert with a nose "boop" when her meter reads 80 mg/dL or lower.  Sometimes I do a "chin rest" with a serious look on my face, and although this is my default "there's something wrong with you but I'm not formally trained to alert to it" behaviour, my girl has learned that sometimes I do this instead of a nose boop .  My girl hasn't yet figured out if this is because her low blood sugar stems from two different causes, and since I'm a dog, I can't really communicate my reasoning to her.  For the time being, we're treating it as a training glitch, and she keeps reinforcing the "boop" whenever I offer the "chin rest" instead.  When I learned my hypoglycemia alert, I also learned the Breath Check command, where my girl leans down so I can sniff her breath better.  This behaviour helps reassure my girl that my alert was a true alert and not just an accidental nose boop, because if I still give the nose boop after a Breath Check, then my girl knows to definitely check her blood sugar.

If you've read this far, you've already learned that my girl has migraines, and they most likely have a genetic component to them because they run in her family.  Although my girl knows some triggers for her migraines -- pressure changes due to thunderstorms, low blood sugar -- these migraines are tricksters and don't always let her know what causes them.  That's where I can help!  I have a migraine alert where I gently "mouth" my girl on the hand in order to let her that a migraine is coming on.  This behaviour lets her know to take her migraine medication, which can help lessen the impact and also duration of the migraine (however, it's not perfect and sometimes her migraines ignore medication completely).  We haven't figured out a way for me to tell my girl how long her migraine is going to last, since it would be helpful to know if one is going to last 9 days or only a few hours, but hey, at least I can sometimes give her a bit of warning and that's better than nothing!

My newest medical alert (that I'm still perfecting, by the way) is to my girl's fatigue crashes.  For a period of time after my girl exerts herself either physically or mentally, even to an extent that most normal people would consider "minor," she experiences a major energy crash, often accompanied by a "flare up" of other symptoms like chronic pain, anxiety, overstimulation (aka lots and lots of tears), or headaches and even her migraines.  With these crashes, she can often barley think coherently, let alone function like a normal person, and even walking can sometimes feel like an insurmountable feat.  When I give her an alert to an impending fatigue crash, I'm letting her know that she's going down fast so she needs to get herself ready for that, whether it's getting water to put beside her bed, finding the nearest dark and quiet space, or emailing someone to cancel plans while she still has the brain power to do so.  Anyone who knows my girl knows that her face has it's own "alert" -- her cheeks turn lobster-red immediately before a fatigue crash.  However, my alerts help for two main reasons: first, fatigue crash-to-lobster face isn't a 1:1 ratio and my girl can crash without lobster-ing, and second, fatigue crashes can happen in a time frame ranging from immediately after an exertion to a day or so after doing the exertion.  My absence of an alert reassures my girl that she has at least a little more time to live her life normally, so my alerts offer her some predictability, which is nice to have when your chronic illness is largely unpredictable.

I want to take a moment to note that my medical alerts vary in how good I am at performing them.  Medical alerting has probably been my biggest training struggle, so my girl and I still practice with scent samples quite frequently (and if you want to learn how I was taught to alert to medical episodes, click here).

If I alert my girl to her rising anxiety or an impending panic attack, one of the ways she can respond to that alert is by asking me to perform Deep Pressure Therapy (DPT), which is a form of firm sensory input that results in a calming effect for the body.  I do DPT for my girl by lying on her chest preferably, especially because it forces her to take deep breaths instead of hyperventilating, but I can also lie across her legs if we're not in a situation where she can lie down fully.   My body weight acts to quiet her sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for her "fight or flight" response, and instead activates her parasypathetic nervous system, which is responsible for her "rest and digest" response and therefore is associated with decreased anxiety.  As a result, her panic symptoms decrease, and she can eventually continue her life as normal.  DPT may look like "just cuddling," but - scientifically - it's so much more!  I can also do deep pressure therapy for her chronic pain, most often my girl's hips.  My body heat acts like a hot water bottle to soothe her joints.

When my girl has one of her migraines, I can respond by doing forward momentum pulling, where I act like a dog-sized tugboat by pulling into my harness.  Many people think of migraines as "just a headache," but migraines are actually a neurological problem.  My girl's migraines "scramble" her brain and make it short-circuit on her, even if she has taken medication to get rid of the pain.  Navigation can be a little tricky with a brain that's not cooperating, especially in a crowded area.  Add in light sensitivity due to the migraine and navigation can be just downright difficult.  But that's where I can help!  Because my forward momentum pulling as a guiding aspect to it, I make sure that my girl gets safely where she needs to go.  She can just close her eyes against the light if need be, and I'll weave around people and other moving obstacles as needed.  The pulling aspect of this task also helps with my girl's balance, which is often thrown off by her brain's migraine "scrambling."  I know how to find a few locations, lead her to a handful of important people in her life, and follow an indicated person.  Sometimes words are tricky when my girl has a migraine and she'll trip over her words while trying to tell me where to go or what to do, but luckily I know her well enough after four years of being her pup that I can interpret her vague gesturing pretty accurately.

Of course, I can also perform forward momentum pulling when my girl's fatigue is flaring, even if I often do it to save her energy.  When I pull her along, she doesn't use quite as much energy while walking and therefore doesn't get tired as quickly as she would walking on her own.  Of course, the energy saved isn't vast, but every little erg of energy is necessary when you start your day short on spoons.  When I do forward momentum pulling for my girl when she's experiencing fatigue, it can make a huge difference in whether or not she can accomplish a task.

Moving to a home with more space has meant that I've been able to expand my tasks in migraine response.  Over the course of the past year, I've learned how to open doors using a special tug, as well as closing them with my nose.  I have slowly begun learning how to turn light switches on and off all by myself.  Being able to close doors and turn off the lights is helpful for my girl's migraines because she can get very light and sound sensitive.  However, the pounding in her head gets worse with any small movement, so if I can save her getting out of bed, I prevent her from having to endure that pain.  Similarly, I can do both of these tasks when my girl is having a high pain or fatigue day and appreciates whenever I can save her from doing even small actions, like when I help her undress at night.

Opening and closing doors has led to another task that I'm currently working on: retrieving a bottle of ginger ale from a specific spot in the fridge.  In order to complete this task, I need to know how to open the fridge with a tug, grab the drink in its special holder (since its glass and therefore slippery), deliver the bottle to my girl in another room, and then return to close the fridge.  Assuming I'm in my girl's bedroom with her, I would also have to open and close her bedroom door as well.  That's a lot for a pup to remember to do!  It's taking a lot of practice (and many treats!), but I'm starting to learn what I need to do.  Once I've perfected this task, I'll be able to respond to my girl's bouts of bad nausea by bringing her a bottle of ginger ale.

You may have noticed that there's a lot of overlap between my psychiatric tasks, my mobility tasks, and my medical alert/response tasks.  One symptom can be helped by many tasks, and one task can simultaneously help many symptoms.  My girl's health issues are often interconnected and have similar symptoms, so it makes sense that my tasks can overlap to help multiple aspects of her health.  I have a lot of aspects of my job, it's true, but I'm a pup that needs a job and needs to be mentally stimulated -- my foster mom knew this when she was trying to find me a fur-ever home, and so far, thanks to my girl's ever-fluctuating symptoms, there's been no shortage of work for me to do in this fur-ever home.  And as a bonus, I get paid with fetch, and that's a pretty good trade-off in my opinion!

* Some people classify Medical Alert Dogs as only those dogs who alert their handlers before a medical event occurs, but we're including dogs who alert both before an episode and during episode (e.g. since dogs who assist diabetics are usually called Diabetic Alert Dogs, even though most of the time, they're alerting to a handler's already high or low blood sugar level - although some also alert to rapidly rising or rapidly lowering blood sugar levels).

If you missed Part 1 of this series about how I help my girl as a Psychiatric Service Dog, click here.  And if you missed Part 2 of this series about how I help my girl as a Mobility Service Dog, click here.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

🏰⚔️🐲🐲👑 DMODT- 52 update

It was as Eren had said. Herbal teas, fluid, food and rest. His vomiting had dehydrated him, and his smaller meals in Marley had left every scrap of nutrition going to the baby. A baby which really wasn't being welcomed by the soldiers of the barracks, not that Eren was either. Everyone was whispering about their new prince and his lack of prominence in Eldia. Or how stupid he was given the type of man Zeke was. It wasn't his fault that he was currently stuck in bed and unable to leave his room. He'd wanted to, and was in a foul mood for being denied. He knew how powerful public presence was, and that the people couldn't believe in a prince who never made time for him. He was just simply too ill and fatigued. Erwin and Hanji had both been shocked as the healer had examined him, Erwin having to leave the room, while Hanji now refused to leave his side until his condition improved. In Marley, he'd avoided looking in mirrors as he didn't want to see who he'd become, but in the room he was now in, the dresser sat just a few steps from the bed, and when he'd set eyes on himself he'd been so beyond disgusted. He looked like a living doll. His sharp cheek bones, pale complexion, and dim eyes all came together in a way that made him seem barely human. Why had no one told him how sick he looked? He doubted that just two days at sea could have left in his such a condition. Was this what Zeke had seen? And was that why they were in Eldia? Because the alpha didn't want him dying in Marley before they got their hands on Eldia's resources? At this point, he didn't know. He just wanted to get out of bed. He wanted to talk to the soldiers, and the people of the port town. He wanted to show that he wasn't a weak omega simply because he was pregnant, and that he still had their best interests in heart despite being now residing in Marley. Letting herself into the room Eren was using, Hanji smiled happily. In her hold was a breakfast tray piled high with food, which immediately caught Luca's attention "Good morning! How are we both this morning?" Eren rolled his eyes at Hanji. She'd literally only left to get breakfast half an hour earlier, giving Eren privacy as he showered. There were guards at his door, and Zeke had already stopped by to enquire about his health. He was sick of people asking. He was already self conscious over his pregnancy, and the fact he didn't look 6 months along. Hanji's smile widened "No need to give me that look, Prince Eren" Huffing, Eren crossed his legs, keeping both hands around Luca's rather large waist so the dragon wouldn't attempt to jump on Hanji "I'm fine. I'm sick of this bed, and Luca is sick of being trapped inside" Hanji rolled her eyes back at him, before placing down the breakfast tray on the bed in order to sort Luca's breakfast out for him "You know we can't let you..." "I'm pregnant. It's not the end of the world" "It's not a typical pregnancy" "And I'm not exactly the typical royal? The whore who screwed his way to the top? Being named prince for being the bonded mate of the prince, then marrying the prince of the enemy nation, and now showing up pregnant?" "Someone's grumpy" "Because you have no idea what it's been like" They both knew that was a load of shit. Armin and Mikasa had both debriefed Hanji and Erwin over every little thing that'd happened in Marley, including his being attacked "I do. I really do. You had a drop, and you're still recovering" "A what?" What the fuck was a drop? "Your depression. Mikasa and Armin said you shut down completely. An omega drop is an omega so thoroughly distressed that their body simply gives up. You're a shell of yourself. It lowers your bodily functions to nearly non-existent, so your mind can focus on healing your mental health. It's particularly dangerous as when an omega drops, they often forget to eat or drink" Eren hissed. His omega flooding him with the feeling of having been insulted. He'd been pretty bad. He couldn't deny there weren't breakdowns, or times he felt like nothing mattered without Levi. But it hadn't been a drop... not that he could remember. If he'd had one of these mythical drops, it would have been when Levi had deserted him "That's... not what happened. I am depressed. But you know what, I think it's pretty fucking normal given everything that's happened. You all had no right labelling me, or my mental health without asking me about how I feel" "We only want what's best for you. The letters you have sent us have made very little sense, even before you announced your pregnancy, and now you have Zeke protecting you?" "What do you mean they made no sense!? I've been doing everything I can for Eldia, or was until my morning sickness got too bad for me to keep on top of things. And as for Zeke, he's trying. I don't trust him. I don't love him. But he is trying for the sake of the baby. He's not touched me badly. He hasn't slapped me, or punched me. He hasn't been physically violent with me. If you want to know why I look so shit, it's because in Eldia, they give their omegas even less than that bowl you're preparing for Luca. Omegas have to wear collars. They can't drink wine unless their alpha gives it to them. I have bars on my windows thanks to Queen Dina and I'm not allowed to wander around in case I'm injured. I'm sick of collars and I'm sick of being in bed. I want to walk around and talk to people. I want to feel the sun against my skin, then I want to visit Historia" "Zeke's given you permission?" Releasing Luca, the dragon dived for his bowl of breakfast. His son still needed milk, yet milk was no longer enough. Shifting the way he was sitting, he accepted the breakfast tray from Hanji. Boiled eggs, toast, game meat and leafy vegetables. It was practically a feast after what Marley had to offer "I don't need to ask him for permission. He knows something isn't right with the pregnancy, given how little I'm showing for how far along I am. I told him I want to speak with Historia and he told me to do what I needed" "Eren, we only wish to help. You've taken in such a huge burden" "I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew it wasn't all going to be roses and honey. I know you don't think I'm telling the truth, but he really hasn't done anything awful to me outside of the times we had sex" "That's alright then. I know you always see the good in people, so I guess I'm worried you're trying to see the good in Zeke, and missing everything else going on" "Like the letters?" Hanji nodded "They make no sense. In one you demanded rice and grains be sent at once, and in another bear meat" No. He'd never once demanded anything be sent over "I didn't say that" "We have the letters, all signed with your name" "Do you have them here? I want to see them. I don't remember making demands" "You did. Levi soon realised something was wrong when you're replies didn't match what he asked" He knew they had to follow the pretences of Levi being Erwin's bodyguard, and yet it still fucking hurt to hear his name "I want to see those letters. Queen Dina is acting and moving on her own. She openly loathes my being wed to Zeke, and I'm sure she's praying for something to happen to this child. I also wish to leave the barracks later. I want to know what's been happening since I left, and I want to know what else we could be doing in order to help the people" "Eren, the healer said you need to rest" "I know what the healer said, but lying in bed is only causing me more stress. I need to be up, and I need to be doing something" "You need to take care of yourself and your baby" "I'm not just an oven for the baby to rest in until it's ready for birthing. Being pregnant doesn't make me weaker, and I'm sick of being treated like it does!" Yelling, sparks of magic shot from his fingers. One breaking Luca's breakfast bowl, while another set the dresser across from the bed on fire. Feeling rather annoyed, Eren gathered up a small portion of his magic in order to put the fire out. Still sitting on the bed, Hanji gave him a disappointed look "Don't do that. Ok. I know you don't understand, so stop talking like you know what's best for me. You may leave" "Eren..." "Hanji, leave" He didn't want his magic to blow up again, and he was insulted that everyone seemed to think they all knew best for him, without going to the effort to ask him what he needed. He was nearly 21, he knew well enough what he wanted and he needed. He'd done what they wanted, simply to keep the peace, but keeping the peace was starting to cost him his sanity. He'd kept his mouth closed when Levi's birthday passed without his being allowed out of bed, he'd dreamed so vividly of Levi that his heart felt like it was breaking all over again when he woke to find no one mentioning the alpha, and no one understanding why he was so upset. Surely they could just give 5 minutes of their time where they listened to him, rather than treating him like this? There was barely five minutes between Hanji leaving and Erwin arriving. Of course she'd run to him. She'd probably told him all about this "drop" theory of hers, where he wasn't mentally sound. Walking over to the bed, Erwin sat down with a heavy sigh "Hanji's just been to see me. Is there anything you'd like to explain?" "Would you listen if I did?" Raising an eyebrow at him, Erwin made a gesture to continue with his hand "I want to get out of bed for longer than using the bathroom" "The healers here feel it's too soon" "I know that. But this is my body, shouldn't that count for something?" "Hanji said your magic flared..." "Because I'm stuck doing nothing. If you're going to lecture me, lecture me. If you're going to listen to me, then listen" "We're worried about you" "You don't need to be" "You're pregnant" "No shit. Really? I hadn't noticed. I thought I was just getting fat from all the food in Marley" Jumping straight to defensive wasn't the best plan "Eren, you're pregnant. Your mate is missing, and your husband is suddenly concerned for you welfare. If you're sleeping with Zeke, or if you love Zeke, this is something we need to know about. It could be another form of manipulation, given your pheromones are screaming out that you want and need an alpha to protect you. If we do let you walk around, there will be a number of alphas..." So that was it. They didn't give two shits about his health, they just didn't want him riling up the soldiers "A number of alpha's who need to see that omega's aren't weak, simply because they're pregnant. You won't even let me work, or read any of the reports and correspondence for Eldia. Hanji said something about my letters not making sense. I want to see them, and I want to take a walk outside" "Eren..." That tone. He hated that fucking tone. Like Erwin understood what he was going through. Like he had the right to tell him everything would be ok. That it would all work out in the end... at this point, Eren didn't see how things could work out, when he wasn't allowed to do anything "No. Don't. You don't get to play the sympathetic friend, then keep me in here! I can't sit still, and you know I can't! It's like you said, my mate is gone! He's gone and none of you even said anything about his birthday! I'm sick of this! If you'd manned up, none of this would have happened. If you'd done your job, or pushed your own ego aside for longer than 5 minutes, he wouldn't be gone! I'd be with him, and I'd be happy. You all can get fucked!" Erwin let out a low growl, his voice increasingly pained with each sentence "How long are you going to keep rubbing our mistakes in our faces?! This wasn't what we wanted for you! You know it wasn't, and now you're pregnant when you swore you couldn't get pregnant. Why can't you see that we want to protect you?!" The door to Eren's room burst open, Zeke standing there with his hand on his sword "Eren, are you alright? I heard yelling..." For possibly the second time in his whole life, Eren was happy to see Zeke. Or maybe it was the first, given he didn't remember much of what he was feeling during the attack "I'm fine, Zeke. Levi was just a little worried giving that I've decided I want to return to the castle today. He thinks I should rest, but I think I should return the castle as soon as possible, then head up to Draecia to make sure the baby is truly alright. I don't think I can calm down until I know for sure" It was a cruel card to play, turning Zeke's concern for their unborn child against him, simply so he could get out of the barracks. Releasing his sword, Zeke nodded "If that's what you want, then we shall leave as soon as we can" Moving to his side, his husband dropped a kiss atop his head. Eren trying not to squirm with discomfort at the action. He knew things had changed again between them as Zeke had help him protectively upon the ship, but he hadn't thought they were onto random kisses, unless it was Zeke's way of warning Erwin not to stick his nose into his and Eren's relationship... Why the fuck did alpha's have to be so complicated? "I'll have our belongings packed and moved at once" "Thank you, Zeke. Levi will assist you. I will need to ride with both him and Hanji, as we need to discuss Eldia politics. Will this be alright?" "No. You'll be staying with me until we reach the castle" "But..." "Eren. No. This is not up for negotiation. I bought you home, but I fon't trust you to not run, nor do I trust that Eldia has your best interests in mind. You shall ride with me, Yelena, Pieck and Porco. Levi shall ride with the driver" Too many alphas... way too many alphas... nervously he asked "May Armin join? Given he's a beta?" "You may have Armin by your side" Oh thank god for that. And thank god Zeke thought himself so far above Armin that the thought of being jealous hadn't come to mind "Thank you. I need to prepare to leave, and to finish my breakfast" Erwin wasn't pleased, but Zeke stayed by Eren's side until the alpha finally rose off the bed "Fine. We'll see to the preparations" Porco and Pieck had soon grown bored of riding in the royal carriage not even lasting two days before switching out to ride with the rest of the guards, leaving Yelena, Zeke, Armin and Luca to continually watch over him. It wasn't like riding in the royal carriage was the hardest thing in the world to do. It literally involved sitting until his butt had long since gone numb, then Erwin would decided that wherever they were was where they'd make camp for the night. That was it. For all the fanfair, and attention the carriage brought it was boring as hell inside. Armin would make sure he ate and kept his fluids up. Luca would sit in his lap with his front feet on Eren's shoulders as he slept. Yelena would gaze at him like there was something humorous with a smile on her lips that never left, leaving Zeke to watch over him like he almost content to do so. As boring as the trip was, it was nice to see Eldia all over again. It was nice to see the people still going about their everyday lives, the children playing in the streets, blissfully ignorant to the world around them. It was while watching them that Eren finally felt movement in his own stomach. What he'd thought was gas over the weeks, now smacked him in the face as kicks from his child. It'd brung tears to his eyes all over again, Zeke the first to take his hand and ask what was wrong. Pulling back from his husband, Eren buried his face against Armin's neck and sobbed himself dry. It'd been real enough before, but now he could feel them. They were now truly alive to him. He couldn't go back. He couldn't abort the baby, not now he felt it. He was thoroughly stuck in his situation. * Zeke didn't push him to stay with him once they reached the castle. Eren not staying long enough in the carriage to hear the alpha even if he had. Sweeping into the castle, there was just one place he wanted to be, and that was in Levi's old quarters. Making his way straight to Levi's old room, Eren let himself in with no problems. It'd been locked, but that was hardly an issue when you had magic. Slipping into the room, the omega's knees gave out as the door closed. Levi. His scent was faint, or would have been to anyone but him, yet for Eren it filled his senses. If he could just let Levi go, he could be happy. If he could just leave this all in the past... Engulfed in the memories of the time they'd spent together in this room, the secret whispers and heated moans. The promised cried out in the heat of passion, for the first time since Levi left his body started to respond. Slick all but gushing as he stumbled up and over to Levi's bed. Since laying with Zeke, he hadn't wanted to be touched, even by himself. The shame of laying with an alpha that wasn't his own continued to stain his heart like an ink stain that ran soul deep. Starved of affection and attention, his body acted while his mind drifted, almost hearing Levi's voice as his hands dipped below the waistband of his pants where his leaking dick throbbed with the need for attention. When Eren's orgasm hit, his body fell limply against Levi's bed. The lack of knot left him feeling hollow, especially when he thought of how many times he and Levi had lain together in the most intimate of ways within the walls of Levi's chambers. He missed him. He missed him so fucking much that it felt as if the only way to ease his pain was to tear his own heart from his chest. What would Levi think of him if he could see him like this? Naked across his bed and pregnant with Zeke's child. Eren hated proving Hanji right, especially after he'd protested that he was fine. Waking up in Levi's bathtub, the room was filled with red rose petals, and his body covered in blood. Sitting at the side of the bathtub, Luca was howling. His son's trills filled with pain. Pushing himself out of the bath, whatever he'd done to himself had healed. Yet he felt sluggish and sick. Gathering Luca up, the dragon dug his claws into Eren's shoulders, small diamonds crusted against his scales. He'd never seen Luca cry diamonds before, whatever he'd done couldn't have been good "What happened?" Trilling softly, Luca hid his face against Eren's neck. His small chest heaving as he "sniffled" "Ok, baby boy. I'm sorry. Mummy is sorry... let's take a shower? Then you can help me clean up?" Whatever Eren had done, he'd done away from Luca. Luca had torn the door between Levi's bedroom and bathroom to shreds, while Levi's room was filled with white roses that seemed to be splattered in with his own blood. Cleaning the mess away, he tried as hard as he could remember the previous night only to draw a complete blank. After jerking off, he couldn't remember anything, and Luca was too small to let him know what he'd done. Dressing in Levi's clothes, the alpha's tunic clung to his belly as he wrestled into the place, his stomach was definitely bigger than it'd been the day before, yet he hadn't felt much movement since he'd woken. Hanji may just be right. He may very well be on the edge of a "drop" if he was acting without memory of the incident. It was ahead of schedule, but he needed to see Historia. The last thing he needed was to "drop" when Zeke was in the castle, and no one cared about his desires or needs other than the alpha. Pulling his hair up into a pony tail, he dressed semi-casually. His pants a loose pair he'd picked up traveling, while his shoes were skipped completely in favour of simple socks. So maybe he didn't look royal or distinguished, or even semi-casual like he lied to himself about, but it was the most comfortable clothes he'd worn in months, and better yet, he'd somehow lost the ridiculous collar from Marley. If he was still married to Zeke when Zeke took the throne, that was the first law of Marley he was overthrowing. Wandering down to breakfast, everyone stared as he let himself in. It seemed as if only their visitors form Marley were still eating. Zeke was quick to rise, striding over to greet him "Prince Eren" "Prince Zeke. I'm sorry I'm so late" Zeke's eyes were firmly on his stomach. If the alpha was staring like that, it was probably much more prominent than he thought "I know. They seem to have grown. I'm sorry if it disgusts you" "No. No. It's not that. Are you alright, after last night?" Last night? Had he done something? His mind leapt slightly in the hopes that Zeke would be able to clue him in if he had "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean" "Sleeping in... Prince Erwin's room. Did it help?" That was a disappointment. Zeke didn't seem to know anything about his blanked out breakdown "I know what you want to hear, but I don't know. I must have slept hard as I can't remember much after hitting the bed" Zeke's lips thinned into a pained smile "Perhaps we should eat? Are you hungry?" No. Maybe. He really didn't know, especially not with everyone watching them. They had to have the perfect marriage to maintain peace. Leaning up, he kissed Zeke's cheek "A little, maybe. My stomach isn't feeling great. I need to head up to Draecia as soon as possible, if that's alright" Zeke nodded "I understand. Please come eat with me, I'll be accompanying you there and back to make sure you aren't meeting with him" Reaching his hand out, Eren let his husband take it. "Perfect marriage" repeating in his mind. Only, when Zeke's hand touched his, Eren felt as if he'd been zapped by lightening. Tearing his hand away from the alpha's, he knew he'd just hurt Zeke's reputation in front of everyone "I'm sorry. I don't feel... I... I need to go" "Eren..." "Zeke, I'm sorry. I need some air. We'll talk later" Running from the dining room, Eren smacked straight into Mikasa. The female alpha growling as she caught him before he could land on his arse "Eren!? Where have you been? I came to get you when you didn't show at breakfast..." Propping him back up on his feet, Luca trilled like he was trying to dob Eren into Mikasa for bad behaviour. His son's claws were firmly digging into his shoulders far too hard, crying out in pain, he twisted awkwardly as he pulled Luca off him and dropped his son into Mikasa's hold "We've talked about this. Your claws are sharp, and they hurt" Luca huffed at him, not giving two shits as he nuzzled into Mikasa, who'd only just set eyes on his bump "You're bigger" "You're the second one to say so" "But you weren't that big yesterday" "Mikasa, eyes off my stomach. I'm going up to Draecia in a little while with Zeke. I was just talking to him about it" "So you ate breakfast" "Uh... not exactly" Mikasa scowled. She'd taken weeks to accept that sometimes Luca's claws left him bleeding, yet it was kind of obvious that that wasn't the cause of the scowl. Healing himself, he sighed at his sister "I'm not hungry" "You need to eat. I know you didn't eat yesterday afternoon or evening" "But I'm not hungry" "You need to eat. For both you and the sake of the baby. I know you had a rough night in the prince's old quarters, I could smell your distress in there. Even now, you don't smell right. Please, Eren. Don't let yourself fall ill again" Didn't smell right? All Eren could smell was Levi, and blood thanks to Luca "I didn't let myself fall ill in the first place" "You know what I mean" First Zeke, now Mikasa. He really should have stayed in Levi's room. At least there he wasn't being insulted, even if those doing the insulting hadn't meant it that way "Mikasa, I never intended to fall ill, morning sickness is not something that can be controlled, and it's not something that magic can "cure". Neither is depression. Zeke and I will be heading to Draecia later today to talk with Historia, about the pregnancy. I'll eat later" "Historia won't let Zeke into Draecia" "She's going to have to. He won't let me leave alone, in case I don't intend to return" "Then why not leave Luca here with us?" Eren grabbed his son back. He wasn't leaving Luca anywhere. Zeke might have deemed him "useless", but that didn't mean others would. Kissing Luca's forehead, his son cooed at him "He stays with me. I want him to see Draecia, and I want Historia to examine him given his magic is so weak" "Then take someone else along with you. I'll come, or Armin. Please don't go alone with him. Why don't you write to Historia? Have her and Ymir come down here instead?" "I'm not endangering them both. Besides, Historia is pregnant" "You're pregnant too!" "Really? I hadn't noticed the way everyone is staring at my stomach. I'm not hungry and I don't want to talk about this any longer" "Eren, you're foolish for trusting Zeke" Not once had he said he'd trusted Zeke "I never said I trusted him. He's just the only one taking the time to ask me what I need and what I want" "Because he's using you! He doesn't care about you, and I doubt he cares about the baby. He just knows that that is the easiest way to bring you under his thumb" "I know!" Yelling at Mikasa wasn't how he'd thought the conversation would end, but he was so done. Groaning, he hiked Luca up as the baby decided to kick and make its presence known. Now he was yelling in front of both his children. Storming away from Mikasa, Eren marched back to Levi's room... to find Erwin waiting. Glaring at Erwin, Erwin raised his hand like he was surrendering "I don't want to fight. I've been thinking about what you said. We were all shocked over how close you'd become with Zeke. I also know you're not ok. This room smells of your distress, and your scent is calling to Levi, which gives me hope that you haven't fallen for Zeke" "I'm so not in the mood for this. I've just had the same lecture from Mikasa" "No lecture. I brought those letters for you to check. I thought you might prefer to go though them here than in the sun room" Still suspicious, he stared at Erwin until Erwin pointed to the piles of correspondence on the dining table "That... would be nice. I don't mean to be so agitated, but my dynamic isn't making any of this easy, and you're all making me feel useless. I know I chose this path, and I will stand by it for as long as I can. I just need you all to give me space to breathe? And I need you to listen to me" "Maybe you'll understand once you see the letters?" "We should have enough time. Zeke and I are heading to Draecia. Before you say it, I know my stomach's grown overnight" "I wasn't going to mention it. How is your nausea?" "Better? It's hard being in his room. Knowing how much he wanted this makes it seem that much crueler" Placing Luca down, the baby dragon huffed at him. Stalking off, Luca walked over to the bed, leaning up to dig his claws into the bed like a cat using a scratching post "Is he alright?" "He's been in a mood all morning... fuck, I forgot to get him breakfast" "Have you had breakfast?" "I tried?" Erwin didn't believe him, Eren's mouth betraying him "Zeke wanted to eat together, but when he touched me it set my omega off. Then Mikasa thought to lecture me about how I let myself get sick. Morning sickness isn't something I can magic better. I'm hungry but I'm not, and I really don't want another lecture" "I'll send for some food. If you're hungry, help yourself, if not, it's there for when you are. What does Luca like to eat?" "Milk, and some meat" "I'll organise it" Erwin was being suspiciously nice. As the alpha left, it struck him that the alpha probably missed Levi. How many times had Erwin visited Levi's room? How many times had he come here to remember the greatest fuck up of his life? Why did all these alphas make it so hard to be mad at them? Levi left because he was going insane. Zeke was a product of a fucked up childhood. Erwin was a great big coward who'd lost his best friend, and Mikasa wanted the best for him.

[stayinbedart]

Living with chronic illness is like.... . I normally try to keep things light here on IG, but I saw a post from an artist I much admire addressing what sounded like burnout, and I saw myself in her description, though we have different conditions. Mine is myalgic encephalomyelitis (otherwise known dismissively as chronic fatigue symptom.) There isn’t a lot known about ME/CFS, even getting a diagnosis can be challenging because it relies on the elimination of every other possible cause. . However, what little I do know explains so many things about me, such as, why I burn out so quickly or why my memory and focus are so poor. I often have to limit my activities if I don’t want to spend the next 3 days in bed with a burning sensation in my head that often leads to a migraine. Most if my energy is conserved on weekends so that I can go to work during the week. Which makes me pretty boring on weekends. . The last few weeks have been a bit intense (and mostly with good things that I wanted to have happened) so I spent the weekend in bed to head off what was becoming a flare up, where my head burns and both mind and body shut down like a faulty computer. . I owe a lot to my very understanding family who give me the space I need to rest, and friends, who don’t press me when I have to bow out of something. That thanks also goes out to those of you here on IG, for sticking with me, even when I go days without really engaging. . OK - emotions unloaded and transferred. Now back to your regular programming. . #chronicillness #ME/CFS #chronicfatiguesyndrome #myalgicencephalomyelitis #burnout #illustratedjournal #inkdrawing #journaling #lineart https://www.instagram.com/p/BuEhNbRh3w9/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1e4xhtr82qoto