#all my other psychosomatic pains are different and they come and go

[balkanradfem]

Beloved friends, I am having a sad day. If you've been with me for the past year, you might remember me complaining about neck pain, so bad I couldn't run, or walk, or sit for prolonged periods of time. This pain never went away, and I was in the line to get a MRI for the last 8 months. Today, I got the results, and they show nothing. There's absolutely nothing wrong with me physically, yet I've been in pain almost every day.

I don't exactly know what to do, medicine won't help me anymore. I have to assume the pain is caused by psychological issues at this point, but I have absolutely no confidence, or a plan to resolving that. Feeling inconsolable for today. I'll figure out what to do about this eventually, hopefully.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @qwertynerd97 behind the cut; the wet nurse omegaverse. ( chrono || non-chrono )

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bruce reminds him, which is something they’ve all done a thousand times at this point. Clark just smiles bitterly. 

“You know I’m never going to believe that,” he says, which is true. Clark’s never once believed that, which is why they’ve all said it a thousand times–Bruce and Diana, and certainly his parents, and everyone else in all of their packs, and especially Lois. But Clark’s always blamed himself for what happened, though. 

Bruce suspects he’ll do it all the way to the grave, though that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop trying to convince him otherwise. 

It wasn’t Clark’s fault, and Clark doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve to hear Lor call a total stranger “Jeju” or watch Jon excitedly and instinctively fawn over said stranger in ways that make it obvious just how much he’s been missing nursing from Clark. If things had been different . . . 

Well, if things had been different, things would be different. 

That’s irrelevant, though, because they have to work with the way things are now. 

“And you know I’ll never agree with you,” Bruce says, leaning forward against his desk and watching Clark carefully. Clark doesn’t look at him. Keeps his eyes on his own hands, no doubt blaming himself for perceived crimes that don’t exist and never did. “You didn’t do anything wrong, then or now.” 

“Jon almost died because of me,” Clark says to his hands. “There was kryptonite in my system. There was kryptonite in my milk. And he almost died. Because I thought I was fine. Because I wasn’t careful enough.” 

Bruce gets back up and goes to his idiot of a packmate. Rubs the scent gland in one of his wrists across one of the ones in Clark’s neck, just briefly. He doesn’t put anything into his scent, because he knows there’s nothing Clark will accept from him right now. 

It’s an improvement that he’ll even accept being scented at all, when talking about this. 

“No one could expect you to be that careful,” he says. He doesn’t remind Clark of the details the other already knows. Clark has an eidetic memory, and even if he didn’t, Bruce knows he’d never forget. But it’s not Clark’s fault, and it never was. There was so little kryptonite in his system that he hadn’t even noticed it, after all his years of exposure. Even with super-senses, he hadn’t noticed it. 

But Jon, at four, hadn’t ever been exposed to it before, and hadn’t had enough of his powers in to have Clark’s capacity for recovery. Jon had been a happy, fat little pup who’d been safe and protected all his life, and when he’d crawled into bed with his dam all sleepy and hungry and wanting to cuddle and nurse first thing in the early morning, Clark had thought it was fine, and had let him, and drifted off into a lazy, contented doze while he had. 

And then he’d woken up to his happy, fat little pup vomiting up his milk and whimpering in pain, choking on his own vomit and barely breathing, with green glowing in his veins.

Jon had nearly died. He’d spent almost a week in the Fortress infirmary and another month recovering his strength, and after that, Clark had never nursed him again. He’d lost his milk completely, and in six years it’s never once come back. Not for Jon then, and not for Lor now. 

The Fortress AI had said it was most likely psychosomatic. Clark had said it was better that way. 

But then Lor had shown up, and Lor isn’t old enough to get by without milk yet. 

So then they did all this, and all this happened, and now Bruce is putting up a stranger in his primary pack’s den while Clark and his own primary pack hides out with their new pup; brings that pup into their fold and protects and takes care of him to the best of their abilities. 

And the best of their abilities currently involves a stranger who may or may not be being abused and taken advantage of by the agency he’s working for, and Bruce needs to not let Clark realize that fact. The only reason he knows Clark hasn’t realized it is because Clark signed the contract. 

Clark most likely just thinks that Carl just lost a litter and hasn't followed through on the line of thought to wonder about the multiple agencies he's already worked for or exactly how old he actually is. 

Or isn't, to be more specific. 

“I expect me to be that careful,” Clark says tightly, shaking his head once. 

It's not really something Bruce can argue with, but he's willing to put in the effort. 

“And you're wrong to,” he says matter-of-factly, brushing his wrist across Clark’s neck one last time before stepping back from him again. None of them can be perfect, no matter how hard they try or what they do. 

But if he says that, Clark will be too busy choking on the irony of it coming out of specifically his mouth to actually listen, so he'll just hold his tongue there. 

For the moment, anyway. 

“Jon almost died because of me,” Clark repeats, tired and worn. The words are worn too–worn-in, old and familiar and oft-repeated. Bruce’s jaw tightens, just a tick. He knew Clark wasn’t okay about this, but this is definitely bringing up how much the other just hasn’t dealt with all his feelings about it. Hasn’t processed or moved on like he should have. 

Bruce has absolutely no room whatsoever to talk about not letting go of traumatic experiences, but that doesn’t mean he likes to see it happening. 

He doesn’t want it happening, more accurately. Not to anyone, but especially not to anyone as vital to him as Clark is. 

Watching his pups suffer through the things they can’t let go of is the only thing that’s worse, he’d say.

[kitkatperce]

hey guys kuzaang headcanons.

(most found in my dc server........) 1; ok this MAY seem stupid though i Dont Care if anyone here thinks it is but avatars have like dreams of their memories from their past lives and can get like something close to psychosomatic pain ? The Point is aang getting these nightmares and crap at a sleepover w kuzon nd kuzon comforts him after cuz he woke kuzon up by screaming 2; kuzon would have loved the marble trick (which was replied to with 'kuzon would go beast mode over the marble trick actually' by tumblr user meeyow4419 which i think explains it very well very true.) 3; kuzon cant cook for shit 4; kuzon did NOt believe whatever sozin was sending out he gave each newspaper the stink eye. 5; kuzon taught aang all the fire nation dances and bumi cheered them on in the bg 6; bumi was definitely their wing man 7; we all know therescultural differences between the 4 nations. what i need to see is kuzon explaining things of rthe fire nation that aang doesnt understand and vice versa 8; kuzon kissing each and every one of aangs arrows. thank you 9; physical touch. slinging an arm over each others shoulder, hugging, kissing, holding hands, holding arms, laying on top of each other, putting legs over each other legs, touching knees, standing close to each other, kuzon doesn't know what personal space is!, kicking the others foot to get their attention, leaning into each others space, aang doing/playing with kuzons hair, falling asleep on each other, and more. they are really big on physical affection 10; dancing. just dancing I don't feel the need to elaborate. at festivals, in the kitchen, in the middle of a forest, wherever. just dancing 11; they frequently send letters to each other, and when they started dating there was an occasional love letter in there. 12; kuzaang kinda just happened they never actually were like. date me. they just. started dating I guess. they don't even know when it occured 13: drool when they sleep. 14; they also uh. cuddle when they sleep. kuzons woken up with a wet shirt more than once. he gets embarrassed when he realizes he drooled on his pillow the whole night. actually have an art piece 4 this! https://www.tumblr.com/kitkatperce/748416474997260288/wow-this-is-gay

15; promises that sound oddly like wedding vows. 16; hip hip hooray!!! x LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! (after their first kiss) 17; moles x freckles 18; they share their food w each other. aang splits a lot of fruits (its usually an orange because he somehow always has one on hand) 19; aang gets very giggly and avoids eye contact after like. they kiss on the lips even once. 20; they both still blush like madmen with any physical affection 21; uncontrollable laughter 22; they don't care what time it is if the other is upset they r GOING to comfort them 23; aang sending super intense vibes to kuzon so he dreams of them sharing a sandwich together (im jk) 24; devotion. yeah ur my bsf ofc im in love with you and will find you and hang out with you in every universe. lets kiss 25; they both yap a whole lot but when it comes down to it kuzon loves to listen to aang blabber about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time 26; cheesy nicknames 27; air nomads dont marry but aang doesnt actually mind if kuzon is like 'my husband' or whatever he thinks its super endearing. some ppl say they are too young for marriage and aang has to explain tho LMAO 28; idiots doing idiotic things. get down from that tall ass mountain 29; aang likes to fidget with kuzons hands. kuzon lets him

30; aang ranting to gyatso abt kuzon

31; gyatso finds it so fucking funny when aang gets jealous bcuz aang says “jealousy is not a good thing. let go of it” and he gets all pissy when hes jealous

32. aang at a sleepover with kuzon removing jewelry and stuff basically js getting ready to mimimimi time and kuzon (whos been ready for a lil bit honestly) just watching him lovingly from the bed. sighhh

33. aang saying he doesnt accept long lasting things and kuzon like. oh ok. yoi dont have to. and aangs like can u put it on 4 me….. he only takes it off for the night (and whenever he has a sleepover w kuzon kuzon unclasps it for him)

34. kuzons firebending with aang is super gentle comparitively

[harloqui]

Different Styles of Shifting

Since I've noticed that there are a few different styles of shifting out there (and since I've been trying to categorize my own shifting) I've decided to make a list of all the types I've seen out there. More will be added if I find any, but I think this is all there is?

1. Psychosomatic Changes: These are people who have changes that are mild and fairly well-explained scientifically. Increased energy, an inability to walk, heightened senses and a boost in strength are all possible for those experiencing these changes, and for the animal identified this often comes with cravings, longings to go wild, and some instincts of their species.

Unlike other forms of shifting, humans are fairly prone to this sort of change. If you've ever tried those "spell to become a werewolf" videos and felt effects (but no transformation), then you've had this type of "shift".

2. Berserkers and Human-Beasts: Changes here are more extreme than those found in psychosomatic areas, and are arguably no longer psychosomatic. These shifters often shift under pressure or the influence of spirit posession, seeing it as either a defensive mechanism or spiritual gift. The mildest of partial shifts might occur under these circumstances - growing fur, partially shifting bones, vocalizations and stance changes.

Examples of these shifters include berserkers, and some shamanic individuals.

3. Magical Influence: Those using magical influences may give off the appearance of a physical shift, without having shifted. These individuals often cast an illusion (in some cases called glamour) around their physical body so that they appear to be nonhuman. In some cases this form may be visible to only a select few; in others everyone may be able to see the animal form as if it were a physical entity.

Examples of this shift include sorcerers, witches and some claims of fae or natural animal shapeshifters (The Church Lady Monster).

4. Spirit Projectors and Bilocators: A spiritual type of shift that affects and/or involves the physical body, or materializes a new body for the shifter to use. These shifters may cross the veil to engage in fights against evil or other protective matters, or materialize a physical body to roam the Earth in. Unlike astral projection, the human body is often instrumental in shifting - moving it can displace a shifter, and a shifter may need to place it out of danger before a shift.

Examples of shifters like this include the faoladh, or the benadanti.

5. Standard Animal or Man-Beast: What most people think of when they hear of a physical shapeshifter. Changes here are fairly evident and indicate a noticable physical difference. Shifting may be painful, and difficult to initiate or control. Most shifters of this sort become an existent animal, although some may claim to have a bipedal, man-beast form. Despite being glamorized, experienced shifters are fairly rare in the community, and don't appear too often.

Examples of this shift include historical werewolves and some shamanic individuals, as well as claimed modern day sightings (such as the Torrance Werewolf) of bipedal wolf and cat men.

Not all shifters will be able to shift in all these ways, however I don't think shifting styles are exclusive. If you know one you could potentially develop the ability to shift in other ways.

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

I'm back on my asking bullshit, and I bring the pain!

So, I know I've talked about physical healing before, specifically to do mostly with Mihawk, but let's talk about Shanks! The way you describe his scars indicates first, second and third-degree burns covering the whole of his upper body. The ow factor aside, the fact that he didn't pass out from the pain is both horrifying in its implications for his pain tolerance and horrifying because if he didn't pass out, there's a good chance he cooked his nerves dead. This is bad for recovery because, on one hand, burn victims have been known to die from the immense stress and pain full-body burns produce. Not feeling the pain could keep him alive, but once the adrenaline wears off, Shanks is going to be in agony for a very long time that only pain meds can help with, and even that's iffy on them helping all the way. Oh the other hand if he crisped his nerves that means long healing more damages and a lot more affect on his over all ability to move from stretching to reaction time.

Then there's the healing. You are a well-informed individual, but for those who aren't informed, every burn victim I've looked up has said they'd rather burn a hundred times before having to go through the healing process of burns again. In fact, at some point, they wished they'd died instead of going through it again. They'll have to change Shanks' bandages every day from his face to down his torso, and every day it will feel like being skinned alive as the nerves come back on. Not to mention the removal of necrotic skin—debridement over a period of time as the nerves and new skin grow back. Oh, and skin grafts, so many skin grafts. So, a lot of surgery.

His life for a year or two is going to go from psychological torture straight into the physical torture of healing. No wonder he develops an addiction to drugs and alcohol. His life is pain, his mind is a death trap, and he's losing the love of his life inch by torturous inch.

PT is going to be hell for both of them. Shanks will probably have to wear compression garments/bandages all over his face and body while he heals all the time, which will fuck with him movement-wise. Hopefully, the One Piece magic healing will reduce that from two years to about one instead.

Yeah healing from burns is no Joke and if Shanks wasn’t already riddled with trauma this would be more to add to the pile.

!!!!! Yessssss. Pain is my thing. This is a great topic, because those those are Mihawk's haki burns, which are very, very interesting, because, key word, Haki. If haki burns possess the physical characteristics of thermal burns, then Shanks is indeed going to be in agony for a very long time. Everything you mentioned Shanks would suffer and require for his healing, the daily changes of bandaging across a large portions of his body, necrotic skin removal, grafts/surgery. (Burns are not something I'd wish on my worst enemy, recovery from them even less so. Pain meds only take a chunk off that utter hell.) And irregardless of physical characteristics, the pain of receiving those burns would amount to the pain of third-degree burns either way. Even with how high his pain tolerance is at the time (due to all the previous torture) he wouldn't keep consciousness for long after being initially burnt. Nerves are indeed cooked, literally cooked (or switched off by the brain due to the psychosomatic-inducing shock of the haki) Which brings us to how haki burns could differ from thermal burns, simplified, haki is the manifestation of the will of the user, and Mihawk was exerting so much will to protect Shanks that a shadow of the "shield" he was creating imprinted on Shanks' body. The question is whether or not armament haki possesses kinetic energy when in use, and if the force from the impact of it with Shanks generated enough thermal energy to burn nearly a third of his body. On one hand, it's realistically possible, given that armament haki can be physically seen when used for Hardening, on the other hand, and taking into account that haki is a metaphysical thing, the burns inflicted in that case could also be more metaphysical, and so fully psychological/neurological. Nerve receptors and brain synapses would be fucked, pulses wouldn't be transmitted right, the parietal lobes are completely rattled loose do to the infliction of external willpower. Shanks would suffer the pain (or what his brain is telling him is pain, it's trying to categorize the effect haki caused to it and the closest thing it has is pain) of physical burns on the parts of his body touched by the haki, and the further pain of nerves on-lining as his brain slowly-unfucks itself. So while there may be no actual physical burns save for pesudo-tattoos of the Hardening effect, it will feel like there are, which does a number psychologically on a different level. Feeling pain you can neither see nor find no evidence of. Either way, yeah it's no mystery why Shanks turns to alcohol to deal with this. And compounding Mihawk's conditions and distance during all of this, Mihawk is the one responsible for Shanks' burns, whatever version he may have. Mihawk was the one who caused Shanks the pain he has to live with for years, and this is not lost on him. Neither is the utter guilt he would feel because of it. Healing will be hell indeed, either Shanks is getting his skin scraped off or buried in his treatments bandages, or is trying to scrape his own skin off to try to exorcise the perpetual sensation of being burnt. Not a fun thing to deal with in the midst of everything else he currently will be shouldering.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

tw medical abuse, panic attacks

I have had a really bad experience with a doctor, which resulted in me leaving his office half-way through, and since then I am struggling with visiting any doc, even other kinds of.

It wasn't that bad right after, I visited other docs and told them "I have anxiety" but they never treated me really well. Some experiences where neutral, some bad, but none had given me back the trust in doctors. And now (4 years later) I can't visit any doctor anymore.

I have stuff to check and to get done, but I can't get myself to visit a doctor. Even thinking about it gives me panic attacks.

I have wasted hours, thinking about how it might be going and idk. I don't fear a bad outcome or another bad experience. I fear that I might get another panic attack half-way through and won't be able to leave and will have to bear it.

You know, I've spent so many more hours thinking about it, panicking, then it would take to check all of my issues. And that makes me real disappointed in myself and I feel trapped. You know, I could have done it already! For years! I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore, if I would've been braver in the past! I wasted so much time worrying, but still, I can't overcome it.

Most time I am okay but sometimes there's this intrusive thought "I still need to get X done" and then I get psychosomatic pain in that area and my stress goes up and I have another anxiety attack. More during the last months, because the heat adds into my general stress level.

The stuff is not urgent but knowing, even if it would be urgent, I couldn't go to a doctor, makes me anxious. And if I would finally do it, the intrusive thoughts would stop so, I really want to. I want to stop having to think about it all the time and worrying, and being angry with me for not being braver. But idk how.

Hi anon, I'm so sorry for the abuse you have suffered in the medical community and deeply empathize with trying to cope with the resulting anxiety from it. Without attempting to come across as diagnosing, or "planting an idea", I would encourage you to discuss your symptoms with a therapist - perhaps online vs in person if that might help alleviate some of the anxiety? - if anything so they might help validate your experiences, as well as discuss a treatment plan tailored for your needs (perhaps this is anxiety, perhaps this is PTSD, or something entirely different, and you deserve to discuss with a professional what your options are for managing your symptoms). I did find two articles (one related to handling medical anxiety, and coping with symptoms in general), and of course we have our page of coping/grounding resources as well. Finally, my only other possible suggestion might be to consider inviting along a trusted individual for moral support for your next appointment. Someone who might help be an emotional support, distraction, but can help encourage you to advocate for yourself, or even for you, if you find yourself becoming overwhelmed (though of course, discuss beforehand what you would like their support to look like for potential ground rules/boundaries). Afterwards, it could be a wonderful way to reward yourself for the mental labor of making it through a difficult moment by going out afterwards with them and doing something fun for you both? If you're not comfortable inviting something along, each medical clinic should have a patient advocate on site (though perhaps good to call ahead to ensure they are working at the time of your appointment), and share that you would like to discuss the option of having them in the room with you for similar support. Regardless, what happened to you should never have, and you deserve medical treatment when it is necessary and I do believe there are supports that might help with that as you move forward along your healing journey. I wish you well during the process, - Mod Kat

[itscorvid]

Ive had similar experiences with the US school system.

I have psychosomatic symptoms of stress. Basically when I get really stressed it causes very real pain and sickness in my body. This is not something I have control over and something I can only manage. I go to a highly academically school because I love learning and I want to learn. However it is a stressful environment. So I am sick or in pain a lot.

I have accommodations for my disability one of which is extensions on assignments. But I rarely ever use it because the work just builds up and becomes unmanageable (yes even when just extending the due date a day) this only increases my stress levels.

It’s just a catch 22. For example when I get stressed and I get legitimately sick I cannot legally be at school because I have a fever or other symptoms. This causes me to miss work and fall behind, which stresses me out more and makes me worse. There’s no winning.

Not to mention what op was talking about with absences. Due to my spotty attendance and tardiness I’ve been threatened with truancy. I have A’s in all my classes and I’m an active community member who is respectful and respected by their teachers and peers. And at multiple schools throughout my life I’ve been threatened with truancy.

Now I’d understand if truancy was just a label associated with someone who is tardy a lot or has a lot of absences but the reality is it holds a greater weight. It’s seen as a character judgement, and can even have huge legal repercussions.

For those who aren’t aware truancy can involve anywhere between a truancy officer coming to talk to my parents and giving them a slap on the wrist to, if taken to the full extent of the law, a guardian being fined and sentenced to up to a year in jail.

The fact that a case severe enough to put a guardian in jail, and one where a kid has a disability and gets sick a lot forcing them to miss school, fall under the same label is wild.

This wouldn’t bother me if it weren’t for the fact that things like this are recorded. If I am decided truant then it will be marked somewhere without context of who I am or my circumstances.

A less extreme example of this is when I was admitted to a directed study time to help with my stress around school. I’ll always remember meeting the teacher who was supposed to help me with my work and manage us to keep us on task. As we were talking he said “you are nothing like your file.” And he explained that the personality of people he gets in his class with a file like mine are normally completely different.

It was supposed to be a compliment, but it just made me mad that people create a profile based off of some boxes I check on a piece of paper.

If truancy was added to that list it would be just another box that would be checked that people would use to form a persona of me. It’s just wrong.

I have a great support network and my teachers and staff truly care about me and have supported me many times. But the law requires them to do things like this.

All that to say the current system is flawed.

When I say “school should be disability accessible”, I don’t just mean we need handicap rails and EAs. Kids should be able to miss a day without failing out of school. You shouldn’t be dismissed from clubs because your attendance record is “spotty” (true story). I once missed an entire week of school because of a terrible, unending migraine. I was expected to keep up with my studies despite the blinding pain that came with working on my computer. When I heard my teachers say that you couldn’t miss exams, I asked what I would have to do to be excused from them. Their response? “Either get a doctor’s note an hour before the exam or death of an immediate family member.”

I cannot express how rigid this expectation was. First of all, with my condition, I wouldn’t have enough warning about my sickness to go to the doctor and request a note. For many people, this is exceptionally difficult, especially with the current shortage of medical professionals. Next, it ignores the fact that my schedule may not line with theirs because of my medical needs. Once, I had to visit a hospital a province away (which I was on the waiting list of for over a year) on the same day as an exam. I begged my mother not to take me because I was so nervous that I would be marked as an automatic fail. I was lucky enough to make it work, but that’s only because of my spectacular support system consisting of family members and wonderful doctors.

Disabilities aren’t always about needing a bus that can accommodate wheelchairs. It’s already difficult enough for many of us to maintain school attendance without the harsh punishments involved for skipping a day. We need to be able to miss school without being punished. Only than can you claim that the school is “accessible”

[duckymcdoorknob]

Continuing to take @danibby (Ate)’s advice to write out the scenarios that come into my head…

This is very self indulgent Bc I’m absolutely petrified for my auditions Wednesday

Half of this is based on a true story but the whole thing with Asahi ain’t happen, I just had the silent panic attack in a practice room in the band room 💀💀

CW UNDER THE CUT: deep depiction of panic attacks.

Hey, It’s Me.

Ships: Asahi Azumane x gn!reader

Warnings: ⚠️CW: deep description of a panic attack, reader’s mind is mean.

Prompt: As life falls apart, someone notices a few small details and immediately rushes to your aid.

Tags: no tags on this one Bc it’s self indulgent LMAO

The world was spinning. Not only from the bombardment of stress and nervousness on your part, but from the psychosomatic vertigo as a result of the stressors.

Cotton balls lined the inside of your mouth, absorbing any moisture that might be put in there.

Anvils rested angrily on your chest, refusing to budge as you desperately gasped in silent breaths.

You sat subtly gasping, tapping your pencil hastily against your desk as your trembling fingers squeezed at your notebook.

You had to get out.

You just had to.

After begging your teacher to let you go to the another teacher’s room, you practically dashed out of the classroom, leaving all of your belongings behind.

Thank goodness this was your favorite teacher, so they let you go into an enclosed part of their classroom. They didn’t seem to pick up on your hasty beg for a trip to the private area, not at all.

Not when you diddled your fingers through the air, stretching them uncomfortably to have the pain be a distraction.

Not when you tugged desperately at the collar of your shirt.

Almost setting a world record for your exit, you hastily rush past your teacher, avoiding all eye contact as tears begin to blur your vision.

You rush to the room and slam the door, sliding down the next to it.

Broken sobs rip from your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, sucking in your top lip to keep the sounds at bay.

‘They don’t need you.’

‘They’ll be fine without you.’

‘Everyone’s replaceable.’

‘You don’t have what it takes.’

‘Others are more deserving than you.’

As your mind screams at you, deprecating statements echoing through the room, your vision is inhibited by the wells upon wells of tears falling.

Except when you went to wipe them, you couldn’t…

No matter how hard you tried, you could only sit adjacent to the door and quake as your body shut down. The tears seemed to fall faster, and the anvil on your chest completely crushed your windpipe.

You were suffocating, and you were sure you were going to die.

This was it.

No reason to be worried when you’re just going to suffocate to death.

You squeezed your eyes shut to try and hide from it. So here you sit, eyes squeezed shut, tears still leaking from them, choking on whimpers that emitted from your mouth and trembling in panic. The ringing sound used to replace the void of nothingness only seemed to be deafening.

All alone in a small room, spiraling faster and faster downward. All hope was lost.

Until the doorknob turned.

“H-hey (Y/N)? Are you in he- oh god.”

Before you were given the strength to open your eyes, you felt a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s me. Can I touch you?”

A gentle nod from your part resulted in an almost ghost-like touch on your palm.

“You know who it is right? It’s me, Asahi.”

Another nod.

Asahi exhaled slowly and softly, utilizing the utmost caution as to not startle you. He lifted the underside of your hand with his own, brushing along the bottom of it every so gently.

He intertwined your fingers and rubbed his thumb across the base of your own, whispering a heartbroken mantra.

“You’re so much more than you say you are.”

As you open your eyes, still honing blurred vision and a trembling figure, you notice Asahi kneeling before you. His eyes are closed too and he just keeps repeating the statement with different parts stressed.

“A-As-“

“Shh shh, don’t talk yet. You’re not ready.”

A whispered plea escaped your lips, confusing the boy in front of you.

“Please… just hold me.”

No other demand was needed for Asahi to obey your initial one. He wordlessly sat beside you and pulled you into his chest, with one hand placed securely on your waist, and the other still holding your own.

“You’re safe with me. You have absolutely zero reason to worry right now.”

The ace was growing more worried by the second as your shaking body seemed to vibrate more.

He brings your interwoven hands up to his lips and places a feather-light kiss upon yours.

Relief washed over you. Even if it was temporary, it still was enough to give you the push to calm down.

“Rest.” He demands gently, “Take everything slowly.”

As you shift on his shoulder, he brings his chin down to rest on it. He hugs you securely and tightly, reassuring you that nothing could get you when you’re with him.

When things began to calm down, you managed to stutter out two choked questions.

“Hey, A-As-sahi?”

“Mm?”

“H-how’d y-y-you kn-now?”

The ace squeezed the hand he was holding.

“You almost yanked your shirt off by the collar. I figured you couldn’t breathe. That was the first sign.”

You nodded, sniffling.

“You also wiggle your fingers when you get anxious. This time it looked painful when you did it, so I assumed the worst and came to find you right away.”

For the first time in a few days, a warm smile fell across your features. It was like a rainbow poking through a dark cloud.

“Y-you’re t-the best.”

He chuckles softly.

“Rest, (Y/N).” He places a chaste kiss on your forehead and begins to hum a simple melody.

And his hand…

Still in your own, touch as gentle as a flower, with his thumb rubbing the base of your own.

——————✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞——————

[you-didnt]

Ok. I've complained a bit here and there about having long covid but I've never really gotten into detail. Since I just reblogged a post about how most of society has decided to ignore covid I'm going to elaborate on why you don't want to catch it (again).

I, personally, struggle most with a very high heart rate, pain in my legs and cold-like symptoms when I overextert myself (which is called PEM, post extertional malaise, and the symptoms for that can vary too). Most days I just feel "wrong" (I have read people say it feels like being poisoned or microwaved) and fatigued, I have to sleep 10 hours to feel mildly rested. Sometimes there are new things: Last week I had chest pain and a headache that came out of nowhere and left just that suddenly. Due to that, my anxiety and depression have become worse. I'm afraid to move too much because every step could be the one that puts me back in bed again. Right now I've settled between 3k and 5k steps a day, depending on what kind of day it is. I have, comparatively, mild symptoms. I can leave the bed, if it's not a very shit day I can leave the house, my cognitive functions aren't affected, I can go for walks. At my worst I've been moderate. Here's the thing: "Moderate" has been so awful it made me suicidal. And there's hundreds of thousands of people out there who have it worse. It often turns into mecfs, which is a very similar but a lot worse can of worms I'm not going to open right now.

I've read countless stories about long covid. Some people have caught covid at the very beginning of the pandemic and have been struggling with it ever since. Some have healed after a few months, only to relapse after a while (what happened to me last month). That while can be anything between a week and a year. You think you're safe and suddenly it all comes back. It's unpredictable. It's scary. It also changes. Some symptoms leave, some new ones appear. It can affect literally any part of the body, you name it and there's at least one person out there who has developed issues with it after having covid. I'm in the longhaulers subreddit that is slowly approaching 40k members and while discussing symptoms and remedies, a big part of that subreddit is people talking each other out of suicide.

Doctors! Do! Not! Help! (Most of them at least) I know from the disabled community that this, sadly, has always been a thing, but it hurts a different kind of way to experience it yourself. I have a very nice GP who's written me referrals to specialists (who can offer me an appointment sometime in March next year but that's a different story) and who generally believes me, but unfortunately I know more than her about long covid and she can't help me. I begged a different doctor to prescribe me meds that have helped others and she refused and said she could get me a bed in a in-patient clinic for 3 weeks. That clinic (like the doctor in association) believes it's psychosomatic and it should be treated that way, like countless other doctors in every country around the globe. There are several indicators that prove long covid is not psychosomatic. I, just like everyone else struggling with this, know that doing yoga and meditating for 3 weeks isn't going to help and could even make it worse in some cases (remember PEM? That can lead to your baseline becoming permanently worse), that there's something wrong with the body, not just with the mind. But there isn't enough scientific evidence because studies on it (and with it I mean both long covid and mecfs) are criminally underfunded. There are some that look promising, but the scientists working on it say they can't do shit if they don't have the resources.

There is hope. With more and more people being affected (10%-30% of everyone who catches covid) it shifts more into the public eye. The first trial of a very promising looking medication just started in Germany and it might be available by the end of 2023/beginning of 2024. There's some existing meds and dietary supplements that seem to help some. But it's all just trial and error and since doctors don't know anything, all we can rely on is anecdotal evidence. I'm extremely scientific when it comes to these things so I had to... adjust to relying on some peoples experience instead of studies, but just to give you a picture of my desparation: I'm currently taking about 10+ different supplements a day, started doing breathwork exercises (which genuinely seems to help), completely changed up my diet and have gotten a hold of those meds my doctor didn't want to prescribe me another way (still legal, don't worry). I've tried.... fucking Reiki even though I have very strong feelings towards anything anthroposophic. Very few of them are positive. I am feeling a lot better than I did after my relapse a month ago, I have no idea what exactly helped or if it was just resting, but something helped.

Also I'm adding this because I feel like I can't talk about covid without talking about the vaccine: I've been vaccinated. Twice plus the booster. I've always been 100% pro vaxx. But now I have to question getting vaccined for the first time in my life, because there's a considerable amount of longhaulers who got worse after the vaccine. I know we don't like to talk about this because it invites anti-vaxxers to the conversation, but I think this is a conversation we need to have at some point.

So. Yeah. The next time you think "I don't need a mask" think of me and all the others who had a mild infection and didn't get better afterwards. There is a pretty high chance this could be you if you get covid.

[thattheatretrash]

hi so once again i am turning to tumblr bc idk what else to do

need some chronic pain related advice so if you can relate or know someone who does please read below

little background about me: i've had chronic pain for almost two years now, and still no solid diagnosis. different things have been thrown out there, but a lot of the tests i've had done have come back negative, not significant, or inconclusive. the only thing that was ever yes yes definitely positive was a mri of my thighs that showed inflammation. however, a couple months later when i had a muscle biopsy of my thighs done, they ruled it not significant, and it didn't point to a further diagnosis. my rheumatologist decided to put me on prednisone anyway, and it HELPED SO MUCH. at least temporarily, i'm tapering it now since it's not good to be on long term. but it helped with my energy levels and my pain/numbness/weakness/tingling/burning/tingling pain in my lower body. i definitely couldn't have finished college without it.

recently, i was put on lots of different meds, and i've been have a bad flareup and new weird symptoms since the beginning of the summer. i also started using weed to help manage pain and fatigue and it helped a lot. however, because i've had so many new (and some very severe) symptoms and couldn't tell anymore what was a side effect and was a symptom, i decided to stop/taper every medication/drug that i could about a week ago (with my PCP's help). i'm still adjusting.

however, the thing i'm probably most concerned about rn is my new neurological symptoms that have been progressing. while i've had things like sensory issues or brain fog in the past, it's taken such an intense turn to the point that i'm pretty sure i've started having seizures? i hesitate to say that in case i'm wrong but i've been having them a lot. since stopping my meds, it seems to be helping slightly. my brain doesn't feel as overloaded. but i'm still kind of having them. i did go to the ER for one after i had an episode in the urgent care waiting room, and they did a CT which looked fine. they diagnosed it as a "headache" and told me to call my rheumatologist to get off my mycophelate mofetil since they thought it was contributing (and i think it definitely was, especially to my digestive system issues, brain fog, and weird random i'm so sad but idk why mood swing things).

i guess my question is, for people who have had seizures start developing later in life, how did you know it was a seizure? i mean i've looked up stuff online so i'm pretty sure but of course i can't really be sure. and how do you manage seizures day-to-day?

also, for people with chronic pain in general, how do you get people to believe you? i just feel like everyone is starting to think my pain is psychosomatic, which i think of course, some of it is. everyone experiences psychosomatic pain sometimes, and i do have a history of mental illness. but i actually feel pretty good right now!! and i'm doing everything i can to limit my stress, pay attention to my body, give myself positive affirmations, rest, do some gentle movement throughout the day, sleeping a lot (8+ hours usually) on a regular schedule, trying to eat a decent diet, meditate, stretch, i mean, i am really trying everything i can.

but i just don't know what do sometimes. so any advice, especially from other people with chronic pain, is super appreciated. and thank you for reading all of this if you did. i hope you are having a wonderful day!! here's to the lovely journey of becoming closer and more loving with our bodies.

[madeofsunbeams]

i’ve been in & out of therapy + homes since i was ten years old and i grew up living with emotional, physical and sexual trauma before i was even big enough to reach a counter. and if nothing comes out of this site other than this one message then that's absolutely fine with me, but i promise you, it won’t always be like that. i know it doesn't feel like it now. and it doesn't feel like it when you go to bed, when you wake up, when you take a shower, or when you kiss someone, or anytime that you look someone in the eye and try to explain. but you will be able to reconnect with your body over time. something that has helped me a lot is taking the time to close my eyes, process & focusing on the pleasure + the actual sensations of my body and being more meditative as opposed to stuck in a cycle of intrusive thoughts. i used to not be able to have sex without dissociating, crying or feeling intense pain (vaginal, abdominal & pelvic most of which was psychosomatic, it was my body’s trauma response). because our bodies are the topography & cartography of our life experiences. both good & bad. it’s taken a lot of time, patience, challenging myself, work & therapy to get to where my body can experience pleasure without feeling like a wound or wincing & flinching. or to just not have my shoulders be constantly up to my ears. to not always be alert and hyper-vigilant like a deer after a gunshot. there are a lot of therapies & books that you can read on how to work on being more present in your body so you can be in the here & now and less in the past. emdr is one that is helpful as well as somatic therapy. some practices of dbt can be useful as well. and if you can't afford therapy or don't have insurance, some books are ‘the body keeps score’, ‘what my bones know’, ‘healing the incest wound’ (this is particularly useful if you’ve survived csa at the hands of a relative), ‘when survivors give birth’ (i read this one for a class but i got so much out of it, you don’t have to be pregnant or even want kids to get insight from it bc it gets into all the different nuances & types of sexual abuse + how that affects our bodies & how do we heal from those experiences to bring forth + birth new life into the world, both metaphorically and literally, and to help break these generational cycles of shame & trauma). there's also the cbt coping skills workbook for ptsd which is popular among therapists so you could buy that + work through it as well. i know you probably feel dirty & like you are colored in shame. i want you to know those feelings developed as a way to cope when you were young. a child can't deal with the possibility that the main person/people caring for them is harmful & unstable, because even if you do acknowledge that, what difference does it make? you have so few rights & such little power as a child. so we learn to internalize the chaos & abuse because it gives us a sense of control in a powerless + out of control situation. you are not the shitty, fucked up & disgusting actions of someone else who should've known better, had some fucking self control, and who should've been held more accountable; but even more importantly you should've been safe & you should've felt it every fucking second of every day. you are more than the harm others have done. i promise, i promise, i promise. pinkies, scouts honor and everything. your body, mind & heart deserve so much more joy, pleasure, exploration + wonder. i'm sorry someone once robbed you of that. i don't want you to continue to let them though. i want you to end up in a place where you are present + where you know you are safe. i want you to finally be able to look forward to the future. instead of constantly trying to clear the wipe board of the past. i would rather you draw a better & more whole picture instead. one with your own hands. you are so strong + resilient already. you survived the unthinkable & unimaginable. so i know you can do it. the truth is there's no magical cure all & you will never heal from these things fully, you will simply learn how to cope with them.

i feel so repulsed by sex i wanna vomit and cry and i dont know if im just like that or its my trauma affecting me

[systematic-advice]

1) just want to say that it's nice to come across another system over the age of 25 - no hate to the younger ones, it's just I'm 28 and it's nice to find someone closer to your own age once in a while

2) Do you, or others, have any advice regarding psychosomatic symptoms due to differences in appearance? Internally I present as a demon, and have wings sprouting from my back. Obviously, these wings do not exist externally. Unfortunately this means that often when I front, I experience discomfort or occasionally pain in the areas on the body's back where my wings would be if they existed. It can make things quite difficult sometimes.

Either way, I hope you're all having a good day today! Thank you.

Hi Anon!

1) It's really good to meet you also! It's always good to meet other adult Systems. I agree that there's nothing wrong with Systems who are minors, but it's always nice to meet others in out age range. I'm very sorry this ask took me a bit to get to, but sometimes it takes a me little while to find the right words.

2) Psychosomatic Pain is always a tricky thing to deal with. From what I gather, most clinicians will recommended Mindfulness-Based Therapy and Intervention alongside Cognitive Behavioural Therapy to treat it. With that said, we’re very aware that most people aren’t in a position to speak to a therapist about this sort of thing. There don’t seem to be a lot of resources on starting mindfulness at home. Sadly there is a lot of gatekeeping in the psychological field. We’re going to link below to what we could find. I’m sorry we don’t have a better answer for you Anon, if we’re being Candid we’ve never actually learned how to deal with this part ourselves. 

I really hope this helps you, or that you’re able to find relief somewhere! We’re also sorry it happens in the first place. Wishing you the best going forward! 

Links: What is MBCT? + 28 Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy Resources - Positive Psychology.com

Applying Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy to Treatment - University of California SF YouTube (This on focuses on Mindfulness and depression specifically, but does do a good job of explaining the techniques. IT was recorded in 2012 for transparency.) 

[nohajwo]

just found a pre-slash from the times when I just started thinking about the plot of sawaranaide (spring of 2019 and me procrastinating writing my bachelor thesis) looking at it now I guess I gotta just toss it away cause it has almost nothing to do with what is happening in the fic now lol (though reading it the third time I think I'll steal a couple of lines) nevertheless, I'll post it here hehe (I'll remove one word as I'm definitely going to still use it in the fic) I also have a first kiss scene but it's just too bad ‘Do not,’ Izaya snapped, ‘touch me.’

‘I just wanted to help you.’

‘You wanted to do what?’ he laughed. ‘Forgot you hate me?’

The weird look ran across Shizuo's face. He lifted his hands slowly, with Izaya in the mirror watching them move in the air, and placed them above Izaya's shoulders, a few mere centimetres between their skins.

‘You want me to help you, that is why I'm here in the first place.’

‘Do not touch me,’ he whispered with a threat, looking him in the eye.

‘I'm not going to,’ Shizuo reassured him. At least his voice sounded reassuring. There still was that look to his face that Izaya could not decipher. ‘Until you let me do that, I will not touch you.’

‘And you're going to stand like that?’

‘Not until the end of times, obviously, but some time, yes.’

‘Why? What are you trying to achieve? My trust? You do not trust me, and I do not trust you, why not leave our perfect mutual relationship be?’

‘I'll be honest with you. Because I saw the different side of yours. The two sides, actually.’

‘What sides are you talking…’ his eyes widened in surprise as he whispered, ‘No. You've got to be kidding me.’

‘Just as you saw a human side of mine that time, I've finally discovered a human side of yours. How to say… I do not hate you that much anymore.’

There should have been laughter after that, Izaya could swear, but none followed.

‘This isn't funny.’

‘Am I laughing?’

‘I do not know what you think you've seen, but I'm still the same. The flea you hate. The dirty Ikebukuro Informant. The–’

‘Izaya,’ Shizuo whispered. ‘I know you are afraid of me.’ Izaya discovered his own hands clenching onto the sweater, shivering like a leaf under the gust of wind. The idea of the beast touching him gave him panic; Shizuo still held his hands above Izaya's bare shoulders. ‘I know I frighten you so much you wake up at night screaming. It would be silly not to notice. Sillier would it be to ignore it. I know that you cannot walk because of what I have done to you. However many times can I say I'm sorry you will not forgive me, that I also know. But I want you to know that the first moment I saw you after your long absence I felt sorry. I felt like I was a monster you always named me. And I am.’

‘You did not kill me,’ interrupted Izaya.

‘But I was going to. And look what I've done to you,’ Shizuo's face distorted with pain. ‘And now you're telling me I'm not a monster, isn't that funny? Where have we gone and what have we become…’

He fell silent, staring in Izaya's eyes. They'd spent a few months together; and Izaya, too, felt that some things changed between them. They both had discovered the sides of each other that they used to ignore. They both were not the monsters everyone around them believed them to be; they were just humans, tired of the life around them, tired of constant hiding from the fuss and just wanting to finally relax a little and spend time on something calm. Even Izaya, who was known for his never-tiring nature, was now tired of everything. The Akukibi situation drained the last remaining strength from him, and now all he wanted was to lean back in the chair and let Shizuo rest his hands on his god darn shoulders so that he could relax and feel the warmth of the body of the person he used to despise.

‘You're surprisingly calm for such a moment,’ smirked Izaya. ‘For a beast that you are.’

‘I'm a beast on a leash right now then.’

‘And what are you tied to? A tree maybe?’

‘Laugh all you can. Really, I… It is hard for me to speak of such matters, you know, I am not a specialist in human relationships, but I– I think I grew kinda fond of you. Here it is, simple as that.’

‘What, you're telling me you don't want us to be blood enemies anymore? What will I do without that, Shizu-chan?’

Izaya felt that was stupid, to try and protect like this, but he did anyway. He knew what Shizuo had told him was mutual of a kind, and that scared him more than Shizuo himself scared him. The pictures of all the time they had spent together since that rainy night in Ikebukuro ran before his eyes.

No, he thought, you are not a monster. You've been protecting me all this time. For a charge or not, no matter. You've saved my life. You've broken me and now you protect me. Isn't that ridiculous, Shizu-chan? What have we become indeed.

‘Why are you telling me all this? You want us to become friends? I have no friends, everyone despises me. I'm a crazy informant that likes to toy with human lives.’

‘I've seen that, and I've seen how you use your skills for good.’

Ah, that. The _____ thing. I knew it would come back at me.

‘So what now?’

‘I don't want you to be afraid of me. That way our work will also benefit.’

Izaya pondered on that. He spent the last year shuddering when seeing blond people in the streets, waking up in the middle of the night from the dreams of Shizuo killing him. He could not walk because of that, if he believed the doctor who had said that it was psychosomatic.

Maybe he was right.

He suddenly understood that Shizuo stood behind him open and honest, not willing to hide anything anymore, not like what he was in the beginning. Something had changed between them drastically. There was something more to their relationship now, something new, something fragile. There was peace.

‘Okay,’ whispered Izaya under his breath. ‘You can.’

Shizuo laid his warm palms on his shoulders, and Izaya sighed lightly. He felt his heart pounding in his thin chest and his arms shivering from fear. He was afraid of what would follow – but nothing followed, the beast just stood there, resting his palms carefully on Izaya's bony shoulders. He felt tension leave his body, and relaxed a little. The touch felt warm and calming.

‘So what now? You see, I'm not running away or anything.’

[sorrelce]

I adore.

Can I dump a whole bunch of comments? Imma do it. They don't fit quietly in the tags. As usual I love your characterization, and I'm super hype about this plotline, and you've got what's basically sneaky predictions in there and...!

Oh goodness that transition.

Fit's conviction the hallucinations are actually visions... Inspires such strong affection for him and the bond they share. He knows Phil, believes him, is willing to trust evidence beyond his own eyes, is quick enough with his own eyes to spot the inconsistencies that point to the answers Phil is unwilling/afraid to accept.

Not hallucinations, visions. What Phil is seeing is real, just only real to him. Tangibly real, even, as Fit witnesses Phil physically interacting with a book...but before Fit can really clock the implications of 'real enough to touch' the consequences hit.

The adrenaline shock of witnessing Phil actually coughing up otherwise non-existent smoke--!

For Phil, the 'visions' are indistinguishable from reality in every sense. They can physically hurt him, and not just psychosomatic pain, if matter is being conjured as an aftereffect. The not-hallucinations are not-visions. Fit's been repeating to Phil that he believes they're 'real', but even he underestimate just how much.

Fit's being trying to help his friend through a mental struggle, and now that it's escalated to a physical threat, he's still finding himself feeling helpless on how to assist. UGH

Fit guiding Phil out and over safe ground, only to have him literally fall through his arms into a potentially fatal hazard Fit had no way of avoiding - -! Or even knowing about... (that Phil could probably see it coming, but said nothing about it while locked in doubt and other fear...oh, my heart, how have you done this /pos).

--PAC. Knowing just enough to try and help, be counted on and trusted, just enough to be aware of how deep and wide the chasm of missing info is--the difference between what he is able to do for his friend and what is really needed. Man STEPS UP. Like, so much hype for him????????? I'm constantly feeling like I get a better picture of Pac cubito every fic of yours I read featuring him, and I am so here for it and here for him. Not completely clear on what's going on, but sees a need, a way he can contribute, and he follows through. Clarification can come once the fires' are out, but right now the kids need calming, the friend needs backup, and the injuries need tending.

--Fit. That this is the blaze empress' message that he's here for. Nether themed. Fire and lava and smoke, and his own familiarity with those dangers. He's intimately aware of the physical challenge Phil is facing even as he grapples with understanding the supernatural aspect. Smoke damage and burns...that's familiar.

I've loved the comparisons I've seen of Fit comparing Phil's visions to ptsd he's seen on 2b...how even though he's convinced that's not what's happening here, he's still leaning on that experience on how to deal. The use of grounding exercises, paired with the internal commentary where he's completely aware of how twisted it is that he's 'grounding' Phil specifically in the sensations Phil is doubting and Fit cannot verify? D:

That mental hiccup, when Phil claims the empress a friend. Just screaming about that, as I don't have all my words in order yet.

Like, Fit totally gets complicated allyships. But also there's this kickback to him, hurting friends like that...that's not what you do to friends...what confusing dangerous web is Phil wrapped up in that he still names her such? And he was completely reasonably expecting this to be Enderking related, ofc he was, Phil was terrified and that is not something he's letting pass without comment. His friend gets a threat, then gets hurt, obvious leap is the same person. But no, its the supposed ally? Phil's getting blindsided from a direction he thought he could count on...? What IS going on---but Phil's in no condition to elaborate.

--screaming about Pac in general. Why is he so soft and squishy. Him and Fit deserve each other. Open up incredibly private spaces, rearrange plans, take on daunting responsibilities...'my friend needs it/me/our shared support'. Willingly vulnerable. He is a gooey squishy marshmallow turned golden and amazing by the internal fires of his own convictions. Softness and sweetness is a strength, he's mentally flexible asf, creative problem solving, sticky glue to what he finds important, areas of life he's devoted himself to out of pleasure leveraged for other gains.

Like attracting like, Fit's proper s'more ingredients too, but he's a black carbonized marshmallow. You have to either be in the know or dig deeper to spot his gooey center behind the 'damaged' protective shell formed from external fire. His friends know the the smokey char coating just gives him a deapth of flavor and experience that is enhancing his virtues. (goofy silly analogy running away with me)

--the kiddddssss. They're so good. D': They ran, as told. Phil's not stressing about them being in a burning building. They're worried, of course they are. Absorbing his fear, being afraid because he is, being worried for him because something they don't understand is happening, because something that he clearly believes could endanger them is something that could hurt him too, because they're just as lost on how to solve things. But they go. Go get help, go where Phil told them, went to Fit who they know has been working with Phil on this specific problem, has been trusted with it. They're safe with Fit, yes, but more importantly, Fit can help-right?

I can juat SEE Chayanne's little stare down. Evacuate to a safe house huh? We're safe enough atm, YOU go to dad first, who's actively in danger. I did my part, you follow through. I trust you....but I'm verifying I made the right call. (not quite tension that there's any danger of Chayanne running back in, but definitely a strong current of willfulness). This egg.

-i adore the choice to put the message in the kitchen. It is such a nice continuation of the themes of the locations. Rose, an ally/friend, had her message appropriately in a garden--one tended by Tallulah. The Enderking, a threat, had left his in the aquarium commissioned by Cucurucho. And now, the Blaze Empress, kitchen-fire link, CHAYANNE'S space. Canon kitchen does have that conspicuously blank wall...just like the end of tallulah's garden, so i do wonder if you've predicted something here.

I also wonder about the way this message was inherently damaging. Phil's still convinced the Empress is a friend, but in this situation a dangerous one to have, because it escalates the conflict. Mirroring the way Phil deeply loves his son, but is hyper aware of how dangerous of a weak spot he is? Hmmm

-LOL 'Phil probably has an underwater hide tucked away he forgor about', 'maybe he can build a bunker there'. Underwater temple with a dragon skeleton generated through it anyone?

Which, naturally, seems like an excellent place for Ocean Overlord to drop a line if so inclined... Although without looking at what Phil does to it, not sure on what theme would be linked to the location.... We have allies linked to family and threats to enemy, but we're out of eggs. Maybe with the continued involvement of Fit and Pac it'd have their influence and be representative of friends? Meaning the Overlord's less of a direct ally to Phil the way Rose and the Empress are (?), as he's been more distant, ally of my ally, enemy of my enemy perhaps. Hmmm...Am giggling at the ocean overlord being typically late to the party, but a decisive influence, and having the potential space for his message not yet built, but created specifically for the purpose of that plot.

-I will probably have more commentary at some point. Because. Pac trying to figure out the mechanics/physics behind how the messages work ('like ghost blocks?'). Phil actually info dumping on the context included in his dreams, and not just emotionally reacting and trying to push people away. Nevermind actual specific details about the craft of the piece and not just the content lol.

I am so hyped about them all actually teaming up on this. Yeah, it's long. But long in a way that makes me long for a follow-up. What happens when Phil wakes up? What plot will they come up with? I love Phil's hardcore lore a lot, and can't get enough of other characters also getting a chance to interact and have opinions and reactions to it to. Just buzzy feelings yesyes.

Thanks for sharing <3 <3 <3

TW: Unreality, major character injury, poor medical technique (and IC they know they're not getting it quite right too), panic attacks

Maybe a bit long for tumblr, but eh, you'll live, and I'll upload it eventually.

Theoretically safe in his room, FitMC is awoken by the sound of his warpstone activating. He sits, and reaches for a knife, and feels Pac sleepily grasp for him as he disturbs the man's sleep.

"Pac," he keeps his voice as quiet as possible. "Let go. Someone's here."

Pac does not wake as cleanly as Fit, but still grips the knife passed to him, hiding it under the blanket and still pretending to be asleep.

Whomever came takes a while to find them, but eventually there is a knock on his bedroom door; Fit grips his sword, wishes he'd realised he had time to dress and put armour on, and calls "come in!"

Two small figures run into the room, and he tucks the sword away - keeps it close, just in case these are imposters again, but tucks it away.

"Tallulah?" Pac has noticed them too, sitting up as soon as he does and opening his arms. "Chayanne? What's wrong?"

Tallulah runs over and hides in Pac's arms before pulling out a sign; Chayanne gets straight onto writing his. Neither child has their hat or their backpack, and there's the slight glow of a potion over both of them.

'/Something's wrong with dad/' Chayanne writes, then pulls out another sign.

'/Papa says the house is on fire. It's not/' Tallulah writes.

Right. Fuck. Another message? After the last one... Fit's genuinely concerned. He believes well enough that the messages are real, but he worries about the doubt they cast into Philza's mind - and also what something like that contacting his friend could possibly mean.

'/He said find you/' Chayanne's second sign reads. '/Will you help him?/'

'/He was scared/' Tallulah adds. '/Tios, papa is so scared/'

Fit and Pac share a look. Pac nods, and Fit wishes he were telepathic and so could send his roommate an apology for the disturbed night.

"Why don't I go help him out?" Fit offers. "I'll go look after him and have a chat. Pac can look after you two."

"A sleepover!" Pac's grin at them both is strained, but Fit doubts the children notice. "Let's go to my home and eat all the chocolate, yes? Chayanne, do you want to make a cake for your papa?"

Fewer people know of Ilha Chume Labs than Fit's hole in the ground, and even if he means Chume Labs proper the warren of labs will keep them safe.

The kids are still hesitant to agree; Fit smiles at them too, and nods, "your little secret. I know Phil says no snacks after bedtime, but he left you in my care and I say you can."

It doesn't really win them over; Chayanne puts down another sign '/you promise to help dad?/'

Fit makes eye contact with the boy, deadly serious, "everything I can. I promise."

'/you leave first/'

Fit doesn't know if Philza trusts Pac with his children, but Fit trusts him, and honestly they're the least of his concerns. The old crow thinking himself trapped in a burning house - why the hell didn't he leave with the kids - is far more of his worry. Is it the Ender King again? Or some other fucked up entity contacting him in the most bullshit way possible?

"Alright," he says, and grabs his warpstone and a shirt. "Be good for Pac, okay?"

"They're sweet," Pac promises. "They'll be good."

Fit knows that’s a lie, but Pac wrangles Richas well enough, so surely he can manage Philza's kids.

He trusts his faith, and worries for a friend, and warps away.

---

Phil and Missa is quiet, and still, and just as calm as it always is. The moonlight reflects on the glass, and it looks nothing like a house that two children might have fled from. Nothing at all seems wrong, but nothing ever does seem wrong; Fit knows better than to take it at face value.

He’s already opened the hatch before he remembers just how jumpy his friend is, and calls out a loud “oi, Phil!”

He’s already in the main room by the time he hears a reply, glancing between the three options as he fails to choose one.

“Kitchen,” Philza’s voice is quiet, broken, strained as though speaking on an over-strained throat. “Be-” a cough “be careful!”

Careful of what? Tallulah said he thought the house was on fire, so… It’s a waste of resources, but Fit splashes himself with a fire resistance potion anyway. Just so he can tell Philza he’s safe, and not have to lie about any follow up questions.

Depends how bad the vision is, really.

Because Fit is pretty sure they are visions, not hallucinations. It’s just the after-effects on his old friend’s mental health are worse for it.

The kitchen is the door to the left. When Fit steps in, he makes a show of checking it. Everything is normal - down to and including the pot on the stove - except for Philza himself. Still in his pyjamas, stood with his back to the wall. He looked like he was reading something, but glances over his shoulder as soon as he hears Fit approach.

There’s nothing in his hands, not that Fit can see, but they still hover like they’re holding up a book.

His eyes are shot wide open, so wide it goes past terror to border on head injury. His breathing, too, is fucked - Fit can see him panting - but that’s a panic attack for you.

“You good?” Fit asks someone who very, very obviously isn’t. “I was worried, so I asked Pac to watch the kids. Chayanne and Tallulah said something was wrong…?”

It looks like Philza is about to reply, but then he starts coughing. Fit gives him a moment, but it keeps going. His body shudders, gasping for air between coughs as he slumps against the wall.

It’s fucking terrifying; Fit runs forwards before he knows what to say, only stopping himself once Philza manages to catch his breath, and Fit remembers what a fucking terrible idea it is to charge someone whose brain is trapped outside reality.

So he slows to a stop, and brings up his hands.

“Easy, easy,” Fit drops his voice lower, trying to project calm he absolutely does not feel. “What can you see, Phil? Because whoever’s talking to you, they’re not talking to me.”

“Not- ah- not talking?” Philza takes a deep, sharp breath - gasping again. His voice is shaking, distant, so quiet Fit has to strain to hear it even over the silence. “Fire. It’s- It’s fucking… hell in here. Lava. Netherrack. Soul- Soul sand. The whole- whole lot, Fit, the whole damned lot.”

The Nether? Shit. Nobody likes the Nether, so no wonder Phil is panicking so hard he’s choking himself. Fit eases himself forward a little more, trying not to scare his friend more than he’s already terrified.

“What else?” he asks.

It’s not exactly grounding when Philza is seeing another reality, but it’s the only thing Fit knows how to try.

“Book, blackstone, blaze rod, quartress.”

That train of words is said much more clearly, more certainly, but still sounding called from a much greater distance than is between them. Fit can hear the panicked tears threatening to spill over with every word, and his heart fucking breaks.

Gentle, gentle, do his best to help. Fit’s not a gentle person by nature, but if his friends need him he’s going to try.

“Hey, hey look at me,” he orders, trying to be kind but knowing he’s a bit sharper than usual. What can he do to break the tension? Flirt? Flirting always goes down a treat. “See this sexy bald head of mine? I’m not going to let any Ender King hurt you /or/ your kids.”

Fit isn’t exactly sure how he could stop anything with such a name, but he’d certainly try. 

Then Philza says something. It’s so quiet and broken up he can barely hear it, his breathing growing faster and more desperate as he does.

It takes Fit a moment to parse the words - “not him. Blaze Em-press. His enemy.”

What?

“That’s why she set your house on fire? Pissed he got you first?”

It’s the only sense he can make of the enemy of someone Philza is so fucking terrified of making him think he and his house are burning.

“A friend,” Philza says, and begins coughing again. “She’s- a… friend. But’s she’s- … Also the Nether… You know? I-I think- Fuck, my head hurts.”

No bet.

Philza coughs again, spit hitting the floor. At first Fit thinks nothing of it, then he notices the discolouration - not black, not fully black, but slightly speckled with it.

Shit. The coughing isn’t because he panicked himself into not breathing right. The vision… The vision isn’t a hallucination, and it isn’t just a vision, because whatever Philza’s brain can do it can’t fucking fake smoke in his lungs.

Smoke that as far as Fit can tell /does not exist/.

“Not really,” he answers, shaky himself now but needing to reply to the ‘you know’. He has friends, yeah, but if they set his house on fire and tried to kill him by smoke inhalation they wouldn’t be soon. “Let’s get you out of here, and grab some water.”

And once Philza is away from the smoke, get him to Pac and hope the engineer has fucked around in the lab enough to know what to do, because this is far beyond Fit’s abilities to treat.

Philza doens’t reply; Fit closes the rest of the distance. He kneels down infront of his friend, touching his shoulder and trying to assess his condition - no burns on his face, at least. From what Fit remembers, burns on your face mean you’re extremely fucked.

The touch at least seems to break Philza’s trance a little; he reaches out and touches Fit’s shoulders too, using them to lever himself up. Having realised his friend is legitimately and physically hurt, Fit keeps his hands near.

Just in case.

“I’m sorry,” it seems hard for Philza to breathe, and harder still for him to talk. “I must look… I’m sorry.”

He’s back to himself a little, then, but it’s still awful words he says.

“You’re scared,” Fit says, and he’s terrified too - he’s just forcing his breaths steady, his heart calm, and accepting the fact he’ll have nightmares about this day for months. “It’s fucking scary, just thinking about the idea. Entities from elsewhere lasering shit into your brain? Making you think your house is on fire? No thanks.”

Philza laughs, and it’s blissfully familiar for a second.

Then the coughing starts again.

Philza borderline collapses, his body unable to take the force of the coughs. Fit grabs him, keeping him from the floor. He helps him bend a bit better and rubs at his back. That’s what you do to help someone stop coughing, right? Rub their back?

Fuck, he’s so out of his depth right now.

“Easy, easy,” he tries. “Let’s just get out of here. We can talk outside.”

Under Fit’s guidance, Philza manages to walk. It’s slow going, and Fit has at least half of his weight, but he manages. It’s not far to outside, at least; the bunker is big for a bunker, but it’s still no labyrinth.

And then Philze drops from his hold.

“Fuck!”

Fit doesn’t even know what happens. One moment they’re walking, the next Philza is on - in - the floor. He has no way to comprehend it, his entire mind fucking straining to compute seeing both the wooden floor and Philza /inside/ it at once.

And Philza is screaming in agony. Agony, agony, fuck Fit doesn’t think he’s ever heard him scream like that before.

He doesn’t - he doesn’t know what to do.

So he grabs Philza and yanks him up. The floor gives him up easily, and Fit scroops him into his arms.

There’s burns, there’s so many burns - every bit of Philza that was below the floorline - thank fuck not his chest or his head, the survalist managing to catch himself like so many times before - is burnt. His hands, his feet, lower arms, most of his legs…

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Fit tries to reassure.

He doesn’t worry about taking it slowly or about stopping the injuries getting knocked - what Philza needs is out, and away, and he knows Pac has shit for burns they’ve just got to get there.

But first, cold water. Chume Labs is huge, and Chayanne’s paddling pool is a quicker walk.

And every step of the way, Philza screams and sobs and chokes on his throat.

He keeps up the promises of it’ll be okay, trying desperately to soothe at least one of the three. He carries Philza outside. It’s not glamorous or comfortable, but they get there. They get there, they fucking get there.

Fit as good as dumps Philza in the paddling pool, making sure the burns are covered by water. There’s a shudder in the screams, and the sobs start winning; with one hand he rubs Philza’s back, still awkwardly promising his presence, while with the other he grabs his communicator.

/You whisper to pactw: Where are you?/

The reply isn’t immediate. He considers texting the injuries, but… maybe best to assess them first. Let Pac know exactly what they’re dealing with, and also make sure Philza is okay with the Brazilian’s help.

Speaking of… Philza has mostly stopped choking.

But he isn’t doing much of anything else.

“Phil?” he asks, keeping his voice low and simple. “Can you hear me, Phil?”

Philza moves up a little, like he’s straightening to answer. He opens his mouth and- and then leans sideways, over some of the nearby flowers.

Fit can only support his back and watch in terror as Philza vomits into the bushes, flecks of sticky black smoke clinging to that too.

He can feel his own hands shaking as he supports his friend, keeping him from getting vomit on his injuries or in the water, and trying to comfort him all the same. It’s horrible, it’s terrifying, but there’s not exactly much he can do.

Hopefully it’s just panic nausea. He hopes to Hausmaster it’s just panic nausea.

After only a little bit the vomit ends, Philza leaning back and being caught against Philza’s chest.

“... Fit?” his voice is even weaker than before.

“Right here, big boy,” Fit tries to keep his reply lighter than his horror. “You with me?”

There’s a shuddering breath, followed by a nod.

Philza could probably do with a potion, but the only one he has is in Fit’s pocket. He didn’t grab his bag or anything before heading over, and he’s regretting it now. But to access it…

“Okay, fuck,” he breathes, clearing his mind with the swearing. “If I let go for a second, can you keep yourself above water?”

There’s a hesitant nod - Fit slowly lets go as Philza adjusts, making sure he is steady before digging through his pockets. The potion is… Somewhere. It won’t fix everything, not for shit this bad, but it’ll help with the shock and any infection risk and take the edge off the pain. Maybe heal some of his throat on the way down, too.

He finds it, and puts it to Philza’s lips. It doesn’t take much effort to convince him to drink, pink liquid going easily down.

When he opens his eyes, Philza looks a little more present, and Fit sighs in relief.

“What happened?” his voice is still quiet and scratched, but more solid than when they first got to the pool.

“Fuck if I know,” and honestly, it’s true. Fit can guess and such, but half of the reason he believes in magic crap so easily is because it constantly happens and he has no idea how to parse it, so may as well just take it at face value. “The lava burns are real, though. There was nothing there, it was like watching… I don’t fucking know, you glitch into the floor? Then you screamed, and there’s lava burns.”

He watches Philza examine his burns. With a worried hand he stops him from taking them from the water, massaging his shoulder with a thumb he can only hope is comforting.

It’s comforting for Fit, at least.

“Can I message Pac about this?” he asks, because fuck he’s out of his depth, and Pac and Mike have dealt with enough lab accidents to know some weird medical areas.

Philza quirks something like an attempted smile, “assumed you’d already told him, mate.”

“Not about this,” Fit hasn’t, either; only asking where Pac is since he left. “But… Look, I can stop the burns killing you, but I can’t treat them properly, and I’m pretty sure your lungs are fucked.”

Confusion crawls across Philza’s face. Fit watches in concern as he raises a hand to his lips, it coming away with some of the discoloured, sticky mucus.

He sees the terror in Philza’s eyes as he glances up to meet them.

“Can we not scare the kids?”

Fit takes that as permission. He opens his comms, to find Pac has already replied.

/pactw whispers to you: at Chume Labs

pactw whispers to you: got Chayanne and Tallulah asleep in Mike’s room

pactw whispers to you: how’s Philza?

you whisper to pactw: not good. You got anything for lava burns and smoke inhalation?/

“Pac says they’re already asleep,” Fit promises, and keeps any wondering about how that happened to himself. “They’re going to notice, but we can just tell them in the morning.”

But at least by then the burns will be covered up and their dad might have his head back.

Philza nods, and Fit returns to his comms.

/pactw whispers to you: the fire was real?

you whisper to pactw: real enough to hurt him, not real enough for me to see

you whisper to pactw: it’s freaking me out, but i know what burns look like

you whisper to pactw: and vomiting up smoke ash/

He looks up from the comms to find Philza’s eyes closed. For a moment his heart stops; “don’t sleep just yet.”

Philza gestures at him in reply, and he isn’t sure what it is, but it’s a sign of life at least.

Something approximating fuck off, he’s sure. Fit turns back to his comms, but keeps a closer eye on his friend.

/pactw whispers to you: bring him here

pactw whispers to you: i’m not a doctor but we have some supplies

pactw whispers to you: will get it set up

pactw whispers to you: or would the order be better?

you whisper to pactw: will ask/

“Okay,” he looks at Philza more critically, assessing the damage for himself. “Pac’s got stuff at Chume Labs, and luckily for us that’s also where he took Chayanne and Tallulah. He can either meet us there, or at the Order.”

“Kids,” Philza immediately replies, and Fit is not the slightest bit surprised.

/you whisper to pactw: we’ll come to you/

“Right,” he glances over Pac’s confirmation, and shuts his communicator away. “Do you think you can manage your warpstone?”

Fit really, really hopes that Philza pulling it out means yes, because he’s not sure how to get him anywhere otherwise.

So he pulls out his own, and warps over there.

---

When he arrives Chume Labs, Philza is half-collapsed against the waystone, and dripping wet. Neither is unexpected; Fit scoops him back up, and carries him to the turtle. There’s worryingly little reaction, but his eyes are open and blinking normally, and he winces properly when he coughs.

Managing the turtle while carrying someone is a bit awkward, but Fit manages. Just like he usually does. As it makes its way across, Fit texts Pac to let them know they’re there. He expects a message back saying which floor to go to, but instead Pac meets them at the elevator.

“Fit?” he asks first, then. “Phil? Are you okay?”

Philza manages to mumble something which sounds mostly like a hello; the look Fit and Pac share is worried. Fit sits them both down while Pac sets the floor, and the mechanism crawls to life.

“Here, I bought splash potions,” Pac shows them first to Fit, before throwing them on Philza.

Fit gets splashed as well, the tingle running along his skin. Philza’s body relaxes somewhat, his breathing steadying a little.

“Thank you, Pac,” Fit says. “I didn’t have my bag.”

“Did you have anything?” Pac asks, hands trembling as he visually checks them both over.

“Gave him a basic potion just before I messaged you,” Fit replies. “Otherwise… Got him in cold water, but I didn’t know what else.”

Pac nods, shifting between his feet, “we need a real hospital.”

“We need a real doctor,” Fit points out.

Pac can do nothing but agree to that. He’s about to say something else, when the lift arrives.

There’s a bed with some equipment set up on one side, but Pac leads Fit and Philza over to a chair instead. It’s just like the ones Pac constantly leaves around, except red this time. A whole pile of equipment is beside it, and it faces an open door.

One which shows Chayanne, Tallulah, and Richas safely asleep in a little pile.

Fit places Philza on the chair, only able to stand and watch as Pac fits an oxygen mask to his face.

“He should really have,” Pac gestures a bit, frowning as he pulls the elastics properly. “I forget the word. But nobody knows how to do it, so…”

“That bad?” Fit asks.

“There’s not much to do. Makes it really scary,” Pac frowns, hands twitching a little as he pulls them away. “Can you help me? With the burns.”

“Of course. What do you need, Pac?”

Something useful to do is better than any other option. Fit is handed potions and ointments and dressings, and told the order to apply them in. While Pac works on Philza’s legs - the more extensive of the burns, with more of them deeper in what can only have been lava - Fit takes one of his arms.

He’s treated burns before, even extensive ones. Not usually with this many things, but he knows what he’s doing.

When the first of the potions is applied, Philza visibly flinches. His eyes, still wide, flicker between both of them, and then to the door - relaxing noticeably when he spies his sleeping children.

“Sorry it stings,” Pac smiles at Philza, and Fit can see how shaky it is.

“It’s fine, mate,” Philza’s voice is a bit drifty, but the surprise of the treatment seems to have drawn him back. All the way to full sentences, too. “Just means I still have feeling.”

… Fit might understand that sentiment, but he’s not exactly thrilled about it.

“Only you, Phil,” and his voice is more affectionate than he means it to be.

Philza turns and glares at him, and Fit swallows a laugh at how ridiculous he looks.

“You have said that before,” Pac points out, though it takes Fit a moment to realise it’s directed at him. “It /is/ true. Still hurts, though.”

Philza adjusts his position slightly, and Fit concludes that it must be the potions actually working that keeps him so present when he was spaced out so badly before. “Don’t worry, I’ve survived worse.”

Fit thinks of his friend knee-deep in lava, without the right protections, miles from home and alone in the Nether, living in a world where a single death means you’re gone forever.

He shudders, and hates it, and it really is not helping his fear.

“You know that’s not actually reassuring, right?” he tries to joke.

He needs to leave this ointment for a little bit. Fit shifts from working on the right arm to the left.

Philza shrugs in reply, but his throat catches. Pac is already bolting up to help and Fit reaching to support his back by the end of the stuttered breath. Philza manages to avoid the coughing fit, though, taking a few deep breaths of the oxygen and settling his lungs.

Once he has, he says whatever he meant to say. He keeps his voice quiet, and the hoarseness is still apparent, but at least Philza manages to avoid the breaking this time. “I do appreciate the help, guys, but I have fallen in lava and been fine before. Didn’t even have bandages then.”

That statement only serves to make the imagined scenarios worse. Fit tries to glare at his friend, only to soften when he sees just how exhausted the man looks.

He can’t win against his friends. He never has been able to.

“I get it,” Pac replies for him, deft fingers now bandaging Philza’s legs. “We didn’t either. But… It will heal better. Faster, cleaner, less infection risk.”

Fit nods along to Pac’s words, and uses the time to gather himself. Philza’s at least chatting, now; it’s easier to suppress the terror.

“Don’t you want us to care about you, Phil?” Fit reaches over with one hand, squeezing his shoulder like he always does when trying to give comfort. The idea of it actually hurts, now he’s vocalising it. “Are you saying you won’t let us worry? Don’t want us to care?”

They see Philza try to reply. This time, the stuttered breaths do turn into a coughing fit. He pulls the mask up to spit out the mucus, but holds it close, still trying to use that air. It doesn’t stop with one cough, or with two; Pac reaches up from his feet, resting Philza’s head against one shoulder as he loops arms around his back. Fit leans down, rubbing circles and hoping they help.

It keeps going and going, and Fit sees his own terror reflected in Pac’s eyes. He’s about to resort to screaming for Cucurucho when the coughs finally cease, Philza’s body weak and trembling from the exertion.

Gently they ease him back into the chair. Fit fixes the mask back into place, while Pac clearly frets about something in his mind.

Even Philza seems to notice that, his eyes shifting to watch Pac.

It breaks the seal.

“How, ah, bird are you?” Pac clearly doesn’t know if that’s a polite thing to ask, and, honestly, Fit has no idea either. He can only shrug in reply to the unspoken question. “I don’t know crows, but…”

Philza takes another moment or two, chest heaving but at a much slower pace than before, “not sure, sorry, I just live like this.”

The reason why Pac asks suddenly clicks - canaries in a coal mine, but all birds are more vulnerable to smoke than humans. Their respiratory systems just being weaker to it.

At least Fit can reassure that one.

“We’ve run through a fire together before,” he says, skimming over the terror of that event too in his mind. “If he took the smoke worse than me, it wasn’t enough to notice.”

Pac may as well collapse in a heap on the floor for all the relief in his eyes - he doesn’t, but it seems a close-born thing. “Still… you really need a hospital.”

It’s muttered, it’s quiet, it’s been said before, but it’s unfortunately very true.

Fit can see the laugh growing on Philza’s face, and also how he struggles to hold it in.

“Welcome to the island, Pac,” Philza manages to say instead. “You read an out of date medical textbook ten years ago, and it makes you about the best we’ve got.”

“It was a biochemistry book,” Pac corrects, and it either explains a lot or nothing at all. “And some websites. I’ve practiced on Mike, though. We both set many things on fire.”

Philza cannot escape an amused snort this time, but it clearly messes with him enough to fuck his breathing once again. Fit keeps an eye on it as he finishes treating his arms, and sees Pac doing the same with his legs.

They drop the topic to work, using each other as a support they might not even really have.

Once the bandages are all in place and Philza seems to be doing better… Well there’s a goat in the room, isn’t there? Because someone set Philza on fire, using lava Fit couldn’t even see.

“Phil…” he isn’t sure how to phrase it but it needs to be said. “I have some idea, but… what did you see?”

“Not a lot,” Philza answers willingly enough, though he twitches as he does. Fit places a hand over the back of his neck, and hopes it’s reassuring. “Kinda like the other two. The bunker was on fire, there was a trail to a book and some items and pictures. Used fire res, but I only had the one… Ran out about when you arrived.”

That gives them a timescale for just how long, at least - fire res offers some smoke protection, so… But then, perhaps he was breathing it in before he awoke or used the potion, too.

“And the book?” he asks, because it’s always the books that seem to scare his friend the most - it was the book Fit couldn’t see he was reading and rereading when he arrived, that probably stopped him leaving before the fire res ran out.

“What do you want me to say?” despite his weak voice, it’s clear Philza is frustrated by the whole thing. “It’s the Blaze Empress, but what does it matter?”

“Is she liable to kidnap you?” Fit asks first, because after the Ender King talk he /needs/ to know if this is another threat or not. “I know you were worried about…”

He glances at Pac, and realises he will actually have to explain that later. Now Pac’s been here and seen this and is kinda involved all over again.

“I don’t know, Fit,” Philza doesn’t seem as scared this time - still terrified, but more burnt out, more exhausted, more likely to give in than run. “In my dreams of her realm… lava is… people. And the quartress has a bee farm. In the /Nether/. It’s not… It can’t be… There’s no sense here.”

Fit and Pac share a look, and Pac agrees to take on the burden of speaking.

“You burnt from the lava,” he hesitantly offers. “I don’t think… you can hallucinate that?”

Yeah, no, Fit’s seen a lot of cases of mind over matter, and none of them result in that sort of happening.

They watch Philza struggle for a time. Pac starts putting the leftover bandages away, constantly glancing back to check on their shared friend. Philza’s lips move, and reassass, grimace and frown and just… don’t seem to know what to do.

The building distress is obvious, though.

Fit’s about to try soothe him again when Philza opens his mouth again. This time, it’s not just weak - they can hear genuine vulnerability, and the first hints of terrified sobs.

“If she’s real, the war is real. She… She can reshape reality, but the Ender King can steal it. /Has/ stolen it,” Philza stops for air, tears trying to streak down his face. “Entire swathes just… gone. In the blink of an eye. He did it to her… the quartress… hangs in a void… I- I can’t- They’re fighting over me now, Fit, they fought over the world and now they’re fighting over me and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s… There’s not going to be a world /left/, Fit, not if they fight again! If… If they come, if they take me… Don’t try to stop them, don’t come after me - /please/, Just…”

Philza glances at his children. The sobs break his speech, but it’s so obvious what he means.

“Oh Phil…” Pac whispers, barely audible.

“Of course,” Fit promises - at least to looking after Chayanne and Tallulah. He’ll never promise to never try rescue a friend, not if he sees the option.

The sobs continue, and there’s nothing either of them can really do.

“I-” Philza breaks through them to try to talk, turning desperate eyes on Fit. “I’m scared- I- don’t… I-”

Fit lets the air entirely out of his lungs, and leans over to hug his friend. It’s awkward and it’s difficult, but they manage all the same. He hopes its comforting - Philza presses hard against his chest - because it’s all he can do.

Pac scrambles up onto the arm of the chair, then hesitantly leans over. He presses his weight to Philza’s back, and wraps his arms around his front.

Together they hold him as he sobs, hoping it’ll be soothing enough to avoid another coughing fit.

It isn’t.

This one isn’t as bad as the last, but it’s still terrifying. Fit does his best to soothe in tongue clicks, while Pac rubs his back and begs him to breathe.

Sobs bubble harder into the coughs, eventually winning back over.

“You need to calm down,” Fit says - not because crying is terrible, but because it’s causing his friend to choke. “Please, Phil, you need to calm down.”

Philza doesn’t. He keeps crying and crying and crying, shaking and terrified and seeming so small where he’s trying to curl in the chair.

There’s no chance to ask him about it, either; the tears have to end eventually, but they only cease as he drifts off to sleep.

Fit gives him a moment, checking that, and turns to Pac.

“He cried himself out,” he whispers. “Do we need to wake him up?”

Pac hesitates, clearly trying to remember. Eventually he shakes his head, “put him on the bed. We just…keep an eye on him.”

“Alright. Can you get the oxygen?”

It’s easy enough to move him to the bed, far easier than carrying Philza to the pool in the first instance. Pac moves various bits of equipment around them, clearing the path and making sure the tube on the mask doesn’t tug, the last one being to pull down the sheets.

Philza is very definitely asleep by the time he’s laying on them. Pac sets up a little more stuff, pushing fluids into his veins and tracing his heartbeat just in case, but there’s only so much he knows how to do. Roier knows more - did more for Forever - but Roier is missing, and Pac’s knowledge is from scientific testing, not medical.

Once Pac is done fiddling, Fit tucks the blankets around his friend. He’s led to a pair of chairs positioned to watch both Philza and the children, and collapse into them.

“Well, fuck,” Fit says, because he really has no other words for the situation.

“Will he be okay?” Pac replies, glance flittering between Fit, Philza, and the sleeping children.

“You’re the closer to an expert than me.” Fit drapes an arm over his eyes, trying to hide from the very bright lighting.

“The burns were a lot, but didn’t have time to get very bad. His breathing is worrying but it’s, ah, improving. I want to do more, Fit, but I don’t know what to do,” Pac shuffles in his chair. “I am not trained for this. But… I meant… in his brain. Will he be okay in his brain?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it,” Fit frowns. “The shit he sees is definitely real, but it’s not the same real so he’s still going to be left doubting it all. And Philza does /not/ handle doubt.”

“The same real?” Fit peaks out under his arm, and sees confusion writ on Pac’s face.

“Yeah,” he frowns himself. “The lava? I couldn’t see it, even as it was burning him. Hell I was standing on the same floor he tried to walk on. It was a brainfuck - he fell through the floor into the lava, but it was still there.”

“Like BadBoy’s ghost blocks?”

“Not really,” Fit, still not sure what he saw, struggles to explain. “Or, kinda? But like the ghost block could also have lava inside it. The lava and the floorboards were in the same place, just you sink in lava.”

Pac pulls a long series of faces, clearly struggling with the concept. After a bit, he clicks, “more like… hiding cables for storage?”

“Maybe?” Fit doesn’t really know a lot about that. “Whatever it was, it was terrifying. And the beings contacting him? Being powerful enough to do /that/? He asked me not to intervene if he gets kidnapped, but I don’t even know if I could!”

Pac scoots a little closer, leaning over the arm of the chair to rest on Fit’s shoulder. Fit reaches up, entangling a hand into his hair. “You’d try.”

“Damn right I would,” because of course Fit would. They might all be as good as powerless here, their actions having even less meaning than in the Wasteland, but he’s still going to /try. Good friends are hard to come by, and he’s not going to let some extra-dimensional fuckery steal one of his away.

Not if he has a choice, anyway.

“It’s just…” Fuck, Fit has to tell Pac, doesn’t he? “Does the name the Ender King mean anything to you?”

Fit watches Pac think very hard about the question, focus and concentration mixing into one. After a few minutes he looks back at Fit, “like… Enderman? But a king?”

“I guess?” Fit shrugs a bit. “Phil did say he’d have no idea if he were here - there’s no marks of him, but he mostly exists in another realm.”

“No, then,” Pac shakes his head a little. “Just… that. Phil said something?”

“Yeah, few weeks back,” Fit pulls a face. “With the egg shoes? It was when he called me off that day.”

Pac nods, “the shoes were cute.”

“They were,” Fit smiles a bit at the happier memory. “But Phil… Chayanne and Tallulah were with him, and I swear its only that that stopped him having a panic attack. He’d had that other message - the one you were there for? That scared him, but the second one /terrified/ him. Was promising Chayanne and Tallulah he’d always get back to him, to behave if he was kidnapped, laugh-sobbing when Chayanne promised to kill whatever scared him, the works.”

“And it was the Ender King? He mentioned it today, too.”

“Yeah…” Fit trails off, unsure what else to say.

There’s quiet for a moment, before Pac speaks up again, “how did Phil, er, how does Phil know them?”

Fit takes a deep breath, trying both to remember and work it out. “He /says/ it’s from his dreams. He dreams of living in another world, really consistently, really vividly, and these… entities are its rulers. He doesn’t remember all of them, though, it’s still just a dream.“

“Memories, maybe?” Pac asks. “Does he have amnesia too?”

“Maybe?” Fit frowns. “He remembers shit with me well enough, but I don’t remember enough about the rest to compare. Could be the Feds just stole part of them.”

“Which means we all might have all-powerful supervillians after us,” Pac’s eyes are a bit wide.

“And who would even be after you?” Fit laughs, already knowing who is after him.

“I am an international criminal wanted in five countries,” Pac mocks some offence. “Entire governments want me dead!”

They can both only hold it for a moment before descending into giggles. It takes a few moments to recover, their foreheads pressed together.

“The Blaze Empress sounds… fiery,” Pac muses, once he has recovered. “And Endermen hate water. Maybe he should make an underwater safe zone? Just in case.”

“We can suggest it once he’s feeling better,” Fit promises. “Knowing Phil, he’s already got one hidden away somewhere, he just hasn’t thought of it.”

Pac might be the least paranoid of the three of them, but that really is not saying much. Fit can already see the calculations running, and so gently pokes his nose. There’s a jolt of surprise, and a soft smile. “Fit?”

“Thanks for your help,” Fit says, trying his best to be genuine. “Sorry about the night… We can talk more in the morning, and rearrange to another time?”

“Philza is important,” Pac shrugs. “We can adjust.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’ve done the same for Mike,” Pac’s voice is a bit soft.

There’s not much Fit can say to that. Instead he just moves on.

“Do you want to sleep first, or shall I?”

Pac glances at Philza, then the time, “you sleep first? There’s more likely to be problems earlier.”

“Alright,” Fit doesn’t want to leave either of them, but they all need sleep. “Wake me in a few hours, okay?”

Pac nods, and shoos him off.

There’s too much to talk about in the morning - Fit already knows they never will finish the conversation, not even if Philza is stolen from their watch and tormented by gods from another realm.

It’s fine, though, it’ll be fine.

He lays awake, failing to think of a solution, listening to Pac watch low-volume Brazilian romance films until his own dreams steal him away.

[seeminglyseph]

I wanna draw something today but I’ve also gotten myself stuck scrolling so we’ll see who wins. but it might just be art of unnamed mads mikkelsen supervillain and kyle the superhero who actually is one of my huge major OCs but he was in an RP and that RP was such a toxic environment I developed vomiting as a psychosomatic stress response so like I’m working on it. (but most of the friends I made in that RP are still super cool and I wanna tell more stories but also like my life spiraled out of control recently so whatever.)

I’m thinking lots about Kyle because of it and like he was definitely a case of accidental self insert. like when you create a character that represents the way you want to be or be seen as? He is very very far from perfect. He comes from a superhero universe where he can like cause skin afflictions when he touches someone. because the line between ‘useless annoyance’ and ‘horrifying in all ways’ is very very small he didn’t use his powers very much... (also like the period of not controling his powers led him to causing harm to a great deal of people. some of which deserved it some of which didn’t. (his mom has baby shaped hand print burns on her arms from when he was a baby and lost control. but she also was the crazy kind of christian who tried to have her child exorcised and then basically abused the shit out of him because she thought he was was physically evil so... it’s complicated.)) but he was also like... beyond dirt poor. he lived in a like pay by the month one bedroom unfinished basement with a mattress on the floor and an old laptop for entertainment purposes. The building ultimately burned down because the heating and wiring was so bad. He worked full time at a gas station making like no money mostly working night shifts, spent all his money on rent and internet and ended up eating little to nothing healthy presenting a very underweight body with severe chronic pain issues. He started a big training regime and moved in to the superhero HQ where he kind of became team manager? He just has a natural inclination towards taking care of people and the team leader had some clear anxiety issues and like..... was an abusive shithead but I’m pretty sure that was accidental (incidentally the person playing that character was the one responsible for the tension and my anxiety and like... was possessive of my characters in a way that left me rather isolated from other people... there was. A lot. To unpack. just some incidental, accidental abusive friendships that I don’t really blame her for because I did not have boundaries and was in the first stages of trying to understand my trauma, so like. idk. she did like seriously hurt a lot of the people in the RP though so like it’s not just a case of me casting blame but it was a really complicated situation that nobody really understood until like.... this year when they got together to comfort me when my dad died and I explained how things were and they realised I wasn’t avoiding them but avoiding getting in trouble for not dedicating my time more to her?

honestly it all gets really confusing but most of it all happened after Kyle got kidnapped by some supervillains one of which..... was the kagicalbinch, but she left pretty much immediately despite starting the rp because she fucking did that. the other grew flowers that had like.... a superhero comic equivalent to the mind control drug? idk. we ended up altering the tone of the RP from like ‘kinda trashy smut’ to ‘basically a soap opera and sometimes a mission happens’ so afterward it was kinda half brushed under the table unless we needed to pull up some hard angst.

but I am thinking of going back to the trash and just creating a scenario that’s allowed to be fully indulgent because it’s not a group RP where I have to worry about everyone’s comfort levels. It’s indulgent trash that I can make up and tag and just.... come what may. So pheromones ‘cause I like the ideas of different scents influencing certain behavior. Thinking stuff like ‘obedience’ ‘lust’ ‘sleep’ ‘sickness’ ‘high’ that sort of effect. combined with a character in his like 50′s - 60′s who functions as a supervillain and is skilled in using his abilities to break down people’s behavior even when he isn’t using pheromones to influence them. (either pavlovian or by fear or placebo or that ‘mind break’ kind of behavior that only really makes sense in fiction where you can just go ‘this person “broke” and now they do whatever the story needs them to do’ you know? idk.) in the RP we pretty much immediately realised the creepy rape storyline was too uncomfortable for a group setting but..... honestly I just wanna make a weird fetish story about my character whose initial inspiration was ‘the shittiest guy you know’

(I didn’t know all the memes about the name Kyle when I named him Kyle, but he was already addicted to caffeine, high school dropout, worst dead end job, insomnia, mattress on the floor stoner type. but because in a way this was all inspired by me especially in my mid twenties only a cis dude who was a fictional character so I had the benefit of forethought before making him speak. (with a metaphor exaggeration bullshit backstory that I made up to justify traits more than like.... to mirror anything. Or because I wanted other OCs to find out about it and go ‘oh shit wait Kyle has depth.’ literally don’t read into it that much that I accidentally made Kyle myself in a way. He was also a creative exercise and a fun way to write dialogue I liked. it did give me a rush that my peers liked him in the game. (his reaction to being kidnapped in the RP, when he regained his wits, was to be so annoying that his basically the same age flighty impulsive kidnapper would just give up on him and let him go. also Kyle’s fear went so hard it turned off and he just started mouthing off instead. I was pretty sure it was a fun trait but I got hit with the ‘you never shut up about yourself’ by the leader in the end and it caused a doubt spiral..... lol being a dialogue heavy writer in an RP that wanted a larger wordcount on posts lead to very talkative characters. I struggled a bit haha)

I don’t know what I’m talking about anymore I’m really quite stoned but I really wanna do something and talk about Kyle more because he’s a very beloved oc

this is my dumb trash boy and I’m going to torture him for fetishistic catharsis

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hey, my life did change a lot a few weeks ago and today I discovered something: I get headaches from loss of control.

So, if I plan something and it doesn't go as planned or if I can't do something I intended to do on that day. If something is out of control. And my headaches are really horrible ones and they trigger my hypochondria which triggers my anxiety and at some point I am in a doom loop.

For example, I planned to go swimming yesterday but couldn't because my bus didn't drive. So the headaches came suddenly and severely. Then I looked up other places to go swimming, with less dependency on the bus, for the future. And my headaches went away completely.

I never had this issue before, I can pretty easily adept to every situation.

I started cleaning all day because it gives me a sense of control so you see, it is really bad xD

Ok no, seriously. I dissociated the whole week with little memory, because some things didn't go as planned and pushed me into a doom loop. And this has been going on for weeks.

I am already looking for a therapist but the waiting lists are months long, best case. Do you have any resources, any ideas, what I can do? Specific things, not just the usual calming methods because I am already doing those daily.

I see no way out, because I'll never be able to control everything so I need to change myself. But idk how.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry to hear about what you've been dealing with. It can be distressing and painful to deal with headaches on top of situations with unexpected changes. While we are not substitutes for professionals, there are a few different reasons why you may be experiencing this.

One possibility is that you may be experiencing psychosomatic symptoms. When someone gets headaches in stressful or unexpected situations, it could be due to their mind and body connection. Stress or sudden changes can mess with how our brain and body work together. Stress and anxiety release certain chemicals that can narrow blood vessels in our head. That can lead to less blood flowing there, causing a headache. Also, when we're stressed, our brain can make us feel pain more intensely, so the headache might feel even worse.

Another possibility could be that you're a system. Many people with dissociative disorders report experiencing headaches when another part gets close to the front or switches to the front, and switches can occur in stressful situations such as sudden changes of plan. It's also possible that your experiences of dissociating for weeks at a time with little recollection of what happened could be explained by other parts having taken the front.

Depending on what it is you're dealing with, recommendations for how to deal with it may vary. It might be best to get the opinion of a medical professional like a doctor. They can help you handle the physical side of things. Though I certainly understand how long waitlists can be, it's worth considering that a therapist could also help you better understand what you may be dealing with, as well as come up with healthy ways to cope. The input of an expert would be best in a situation like this.

If anyone has any suggestions or comments, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun