#for myself my memory is not great and my body is in constant pain but there's been zero push by the scientific community to find aid

[jack-bytez-genuine-corner]

In Cyberpunk they can turn off your robo heart if you can't make payments, but right now they can stop supplying you your heart medicine just cause you were kicked off of your Medicare roles unjustly, or fired for being seconds late, or because the company that makes your medicine chose not too cause it's not profitable enough, or God help you if they deem a massive price increase worth it. Honestly the only difference is that the cyberpunk world at least bothered to give you a working heart or ear or spine or arm or leg before turning it off arbitrarily, where as right now you're guaranteed nothing and any little aid you get comes after a long winded fight.

[livelovecucumber]

BRUTALLY HONEST effects of hitting my UGW of 45 kg / 100 lbs

So as I’ve mentioned on my blog, I hit my ugw of 45kg in 2020 and since been in recovery (recently rel4psed) and wanted to list some effects of being underw3ight that I noticed.

1. Food allergies. I got sensitive to several foods and drinks while being underweight. Some of them I can consume again after years of recovery. These include: Extreme sensitivity to caffeine & coffee (feel like i’m sick, still can’t consume it and it used to be my fave). Sensitivity to raw vegetables. Lactose intolerance.

2. Heart problems. I have unexplained heart problems since being underweight. I will get suddenly get an abnormally high bpm (200+) while resting at completely random times. This is scary and extremely painful. It hurts in my entire body, feel like I can’t breathe and my jaw hurts. Can last for 5-45 min and will leave me unable to do anything in that time period. Will leave me tired for 2-3 days. Has been happening less in the last year of recovery. Not anxiety related.

3. Memory loss. I would completely forget my sentence in the middle of it. I would forget the entire day and every small detail. Been experiencing both long term and short term memory loss since being underweight. Still struggling with retaining information.

4. Speech problems. Probably related to memory loss. I spoke extremely slow and struggled with forming sentences, and I still do. I struggle with remembering words and will sometimes take a while to form a coherent sentence.

5. Less picky. Incredibly enough, I have become way less picky since being underweight as starving made me desire ANY food available. This has made me appreciate every small taste. Great for learning to eat less desirable “healthy” foods.

6. Loss of good judgement. When I was underweight I had little to no self reflection in my actions. I had my values and morals but the lines seemed to blur as my ability to think properly depleted and I started acting more unconsciously attention seeking and egocentric, without my knowledge. This was in all aspects of my life. I thought I was in complete control but regained common knowledge as soon as I recovered.

7. Constipation. When at my lowest weight, I was constantly constipated and bloated. Laxatives did not work.

8. People acted differently. People treated me completely differently and started treating me like a child and as if I was stupid. They also gave me more compliments and were nicer to me in general. I noticed other girls felt more awkward around me compared to when I was heavier.

9. Mood swings. No shocker but being underweight made my mood swing a lot. I would cry over nothing and act out incredibly when things didn’t turn out. I also acted more kind and timid towards others in general than I used to. I was more careful with hurting others and more sensitive and empathetic in general.

10. Hair growth. I didn’t really notice my hair growing faster on my body but my hair on my head got a lot longer.

Honorable mentions: Constant unexplained bruising, constant cold feeling, feeling sick almost every day, childish behaviour in general, didn’t feel mature and indulged in very childish hobbies & likes. Dumbed myself down on purpose a lot due to memory loss & speech issues.

[blueseachelle]

Everything Goes On

Ominis Gaunt x Sick! MC! Reader

Warning: Angst

Summary:

“Sebastian. Promise me you’ll do what I asked of you. Take care of him.”

Inspiration: Everything Goes On by Porter Robinson

Y/n was doomed from the start. She was born with a disease no one could cure. The doctors and wizards alike tried to find something but, to no avail. They could only come up with a medicine that will slow down the process. She accepted for the sake of her family but, was happy to just let go then deal with the constant pain she was under.

At the age of 15, she found her magical ability and was brought to Hogwarts, sorted into the house of Slytherin. There, she met Sebastian and Ominis. She became close with them, of course not telling them of her condition. She pushed through her pain and struggles to save Hogwarts, fulfilling her duty as a Keeper of ancient magic. During all of this, She and Ominis fell in love and started to date. They truly did love each other. But, Y/n said nothing still.

Soon, she helped Sebastian cure Anne by the use of her ancient magic. She mimicked Isadora but, instead of storing it in jars and such, she took it in herself and her sick body. She felt her time cutting shorter and shorter everyday.

She told the one person she could trust with the trust, Sebastian. He would take care of Ominis for her so, they discussed it one night.

“Sebastian. I need to ask you to do something for me.”

“Sure, what is it?”

Ominis retired to bed log ago so, she felt confident in that he wouldn’t here this. The (E/c) eyed girl sighed, closing her eyes,

“I need to start from the beginning.”

Sebastian set down his book and looked at her with curiosity. She continued,

“I was born with an incurable condition and all the doctors and wizards could do was make medication to slow it down. It’s my time, Sebastian. I fulfilled my Keeper duties and healed your sister, taking the infliction upon myself. I’m getting weaker and weaker every day. I need to go home and live my last days with my family so they can have closure. Here’s what I ask you to do. I want you to Obliviate Ominis’s memories of me. I don’t want him to suffer my death. I know you can do it for me. Would you?”

Sebastian nodded, "I'll do my best. I promise Y/n. Make sure you get much rest and write when possible or up for it. The sick girl smiled, "Of course. I'll try my best."

Ominis sat in his Magic History class. It was boring as always was. As the rays of sunshine cast on him, he felt his eyes grow heavy. Soon he was asleep.

Ominis usually didn't have dreams but, this time, it was different.

"Ominis!" The blind boy heard a voice excitedly shout at him. He felt himself smile as he turned around. His wand made out the figure of a smaller girl. She felt familiar to him. She ran up to him and hugged him. He hugged her back, taking in her scent. She smelt sweet like honeysuckles. He relished in her touch as they stood in an embrace. She mumbled into his chest, "I've missed you." Ominis chuckled, "We only went to sleep. How can you miss me that fast?" The girl just pouted making the blonde boy laugh and hold her closer. "Don't worry. I missed you too, My Love."

Ominis woke up with a jump. He heard the shuffling of papers so, he knew class had ended. He stood up and gathered his things quickly. He left the room in thought. Who was that girl? What did he feel... longing for her? What was her name?

As he made it back to the common room, Sebastian showed himself.

"Ominis! Did you hear? Anne has been cured!"

Ominis looked over at him,

"How? Didn't everything that could be done was?"

Sebastian patted his friends back,

"Y/n- I mean, a wonderful witch broke her curse and Anne was healed as a result. She is doing great and should be back with us by next year."

"That's amazing."

Ominis didn't bring attention that he heard the slip-up. Who was this Y/n? Why did that name sound familiar? They made it to their common room and Ominis went up to his dorm. He sat on his bed in deep thought. Maybe if he fell asleep another clue will unravel itself? He lay down and fell asleep.

"My Love? What are you doing?" Ominis wrapped his arms around the girl in front of him. She giggled and pecked his cheek, "I'm washing my face before bed. Helps the skin, you know." He kissed her wet cheek and smiled before hearing a groan from outside of the bathroom, "Y/n, Ominis. Are you going to take all night in there? I need to shower!" Sebastian knocked on the door. Y/n giggled and dried her face. "We're coming out! No need to get your knickers in a bunch." Ominis kissed her lips. She smiled and kissed him back. For once in his life, he felt complete.

Ominis was plagued by these dreams for a week before giving in. He needed to ask someone about this. Sebastian was the only one that could truly solve this for him so, he met him in The Undercroft one night.

Sebastian and Ominis sat silently reading. The blonde male took a breath,

"Sebastian."

"Yes?"

"Who is Y/n?"

Sebastian stared at him who stared back. He took a shuttering breath,

"Why do you want to know?"

"I've been plagued by dreams or memories of some sort. All I know is that I miss her. Who is she?"

Sebastian looked down at the ground in thought before he spoke,

"Ominis. I just want you to know Y/n asked me to do it before I explain it."

The blind male nodded,

"Please just tell me."

Sebastian moved and sat next to him. He then started to explain who Y/n was and that she was Ominis's girlfriend. She was born sick and asked Sebastian to Obliviate his memories of her so he didn't mourn her death. She healed Anne and went back home to be with her family for her last day.

"She hasn't written to me in a while so, I assumed that she was finally at peace now."

Ominis sat in shock. All his memories flooded back to him like a title wave. He felt so many things but, he knew Y/n's heart was in the right place.

Tears poured down his face as he stood and grabbed Sebastian's collar,

"Where is she?! Tell me now!"

He yelled into the brunette's face. Sebastian froze in shock before stuttering out,

"S-She's in London."

Ominis dropped his collar and walked out of The Undercroft. He walked to his dorm and started to pack a bag. He will find her. No matter what. He dug in Sebastian's drawer, pulled out an older letter from Y/n, and got the address from it.

He went to the nearest floo and started his journey to England.

----~

Y/n sat in her bed. Her body weak and losing muscle mass. She looked as bad as she felt. She let her thoughts wonder to Ominis and Sebastian. How were they? Was Ominis as at peace as she was?

She sighed. Her ribs rattled in her chest as she did.

"Y/n, love. I brought some soup to feed you."

Her mother sat next to her with the bowl and a spoon. She carefully fed her the soup sip by sip. After the small portion was finished, her mother had her sip some water.

Y/n came from a upper class family. Just a muggle family but, she was happy with it. They weren't scared of magic like other's. They encouraged her magic abilities.

Her mother pat her mouth with a napkin and kissed her forehead,

"I love you. darling. I'll check on you if a few."

"Okay."

Y/n closed her eyes. She was just growing more and more tired. She didn't know how long she had but, she longed for it to come quickly. She suffered for far too long. She was tired.

Y/n's father answered the door after hearing a knock. There stood a blonde male with green vest and black slacks. The older man raised an eyebrow,

"Can I help you, son?" The murky eyed boy nodded,

"Is this the L/n residence?"

"Yeah. How can I help you?"

The boy took a shuttered breath, "I'm Ominis Gaunt from the House of Gaunt. I came to see Y/n, if possible."

The older man shook his head,

"I'm sorry, I can't let you. She is not feeling well and we don't want to stress her-"

"Thomas! Let him in. That's the boy from the letters."

The lady yelled at Thomas and nudged him out of the way,

"I'm sorry about that, Ominis. Excuse Thomas. My name is Evelynn, Y/n's mother. Please come right in."

Ominis was led into the house. Evelynn led him to Y/n's place of rest. She gently knocked on the door and peaked in, "Y/n, honey. There's a friend that came to see you."

Y/n opened her eyes gentle before croaking out,

"They can come in."

Ominis stepped past her mother. Y/n's eyes widened, "Why are you here? You aren't supposed to be."

Ominis said nothing as he moved to sit next to her bed. Evelynn gently closed the door to give them privacy.

"I'm here and I know everything. Sebastian's Obliviate was temporary. I'm just happy I got to you before you weren't here anymore."

He gently held her hands. He felt how much they changed. She really was going to die. This shattered his heart. He wished that it was a cruel joke and everything was going to be okay but, He knew it wasn't.

Y/n's eyes watered,

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to suffer more than you have already. I'm sorry."

Ominis caressed her gaunt face and dried her tears with his thumbs.

"No. Don't apologize. I already have forgiven you. I know you had the right intentions. I just want to be here with you until I can't anymore. I love you too much to just forget about you."

Y/n tried to nuzzle her face into his hand but, she couldn't.

"I love you too, Ominis. I wish I could stay for you but, It's my time."

Ominis nodded,

"I know, My Dearest. I will never forget you and I will never love another for as long as I live. I will meet you on the other side."

He gentle lifted her hand and kissed it,

"Just promise to come visit or send me a message."

Y/n smiled as she started to cry,

"I promise to send you a dove and visit. I love you, Ominis."

"I love you too, Y/n."

He gently kissed her on the lips. When they parted, they sat forehead to forehead for a while. As the night started to darken the room, Ominis fell asleep with his head on the edge of the bed and Y/n's hand on his head.

Throughout the night, Y/n let go. Ominis woke up just before her final breath. He held her close as her body grew heavy. He sobbed as he called for her mother. The three of them sobbed together.

A little voice chimed into his head during his sobs. A (H/c) haired girl with beautiful (E/c) colored eyes looked at him with love and peace. She wore a white dress in a field of white clouds.

"Don't cry, Ominis. I love you. Just remember, Everything Goes On."

[wulfgaang]

Beautiful (PG13)

pairing: hwang hyunjin x f!bodied muse rating: pg-13 genre: romance; pining; angst during the time skip wc: 1.7k warnings: minimally edited, artistic nudity mentioned, sensual touching, soft boy hyunjin being so in love he's absolutely floored at he got that lucky, ANGST BELOW THE TIME SKIP. Feel free to end the story before if you want something a little fluffier :3 a/n: well hey it's been a second! Here's my second fic, this time with the lovely Hyunjin! It's a little short one but that's ok with me :) for the third time, please be aware there's some angst in the time skip so if you aren't ready for it... feel free to end it before then ^^; I just couldn't help myself; i love pain :')

Inspiration. "You're beautiful... I know but... You were everything..."

Disclaimer. This is a work of fiction that does not intend to portray the true feelings, actions, nature and emotions of the Stray Kids members. Please not redistribute this piece of fiction in any form. Copyright @ wulfgaang / callsign-marlie (tumblr; 2024)

--

Hyunjin was enraptured.

It was a different feeling than of the others he had before when he saw you like this. His brain was fuzzy and covered in cotton candy while his gaze slipped over every pore, stretch mark and mole on your skin. How soft it all looked, draped in the shimmering gossamer fabric that barely covered the shading of the peaks and valleys of your hips! You were a feast indeed.

Hyunjin saw you as effervescent; a star in the nighttime, glimmering and glowing, a constant flicker of ephemeral gorgeousness under his single bay window. The afternoon light had dimmed to dusk and left more shadows than he had originally started with. You were the perfect model as per usual, holding your expression at the same point for hours with just a giggled “I’m fine, my love, go back to work” whenever he came to give you sips of water or drop grapes into your mouth. He wished the juice that dribbled down your chin onto your chest stayed long enough for him to paint it.

A Cleopatrean idol, you are; a person worth every luxury, every greatness he could ever give. The way his heart soared for you at every glance, jumped at every touch, melted with the sound of your voice! Oh, he would have moved mountains if you asked him to just to ensure a frown never creased your lips. He would make sure that sweat never fell from your brow if he could help it, if you weren’t ever so stubborn to allow him the pleasure to serve your beck and call.

You were a salve on burns left behind by a world that didn’t care about him. That didn’t care about anyone other than itself. You gave him a soft place to land when life was too true to believe. You gave him comfort when pins and needles pricked under his eyes. You deserved to be memorialized over and over again as the subject of all grace, humility and rapture for everyone to witness. Mine. Aren’t you jealous? They’re mine, all mine, and all you can do is praise them as I do. Give your everything to them; you’ll see it too.

He was focused now, his eyebrows pinching slightly together with his stern gaze peaking over the top of the canvas. He memorized the trace of the curve of your hip and translated it to his paint. His brush moved the acrylic languidly, flicking at the ends to taper the lines to nothingness of shadow. He had been the epitome of a professional for each and every session, guiding your movements with a soft voice and gentle fingertips to make minor adjustments. The angle needed to be just where he wanted it; just where he wanted you.

He would ghost his paint covered fingers over the top of your skin, feeling the electrical shock of his touch bring the hairs of your arms to attention. Butterfly light touches of his lips to the spot under your jaw unlocked the hummingbird caged in his heart, the ghost of your breath like a memory from ages past; sweet and delicate. You smiled at him with sparkling eyes in the amber of sunset. Sunset.

“You must be exhausted, my muse,” Hyunjin murmured, kneeling against the side of your seat to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. You smiled and preened, the arch of your back high against the velveteen chaise lounge. “You’ve done so well for me today.”

You attempted to playfully press your face closer to his, but Hyunjin was fast to move backwards from you as a coy smile graced his lips. You pouted with furrowed brows. “I can’t even receive payment for all of my hard work, monsieur l’artiste?”

His eyes twinkled mischievously before he let his mouth crash to yours, the softness of flesh pulled a light moan from the bottom of his chest. Kissing you was sinful; the way he perfectly meshed with you felt like blasphemy. There was no way that whatever gods existed created someone so perfect, so lovely, and happened to place them right in his path to love and cherish forever. The way your hands carded through his hair was biblical. The way you moved against his chest required reconciliation. For what? He didn’t know. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned… He would rather be sent to hell than be one day apart from you a single moment.

As the air was pulled from his lungs, he broke the passionate connection to let his lips dance to the tip of your nose, tapping them to each of your eyelids, and finally, let them linger on the crest of your forehead. “A tip,” he muttered. “For making my most favorite model think she wasn’t even worth payment. Who do you think I am, a con?”

Your giggle was soft, a blush of heat draped across the bridge of your nose. He wished he didn’t call it quits already: it would have gone perfect with the warm color palette he had chosen for this scene. He would have to add it later in post editing. Hyunjin wondered if the more rosy tone was suited for the color palette or should he darken it to match the shadows of the background? But then again, the blue of the sky hit just a point- 

“You’re beautiful, Hyunjin.”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked owlishly. “Hm?”

“You’re beautiful,” you said again, moving the gauzed sheet from your lap to stand. Your bones and ligaments groaned for a moment as you unfurled from your position on the couch with a sigh. Your peaked nipples stood up against the cold while you languidly reached for the silk robe on the side table. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hyunjin tsked quietly, his drying palette suddenly more interesting than the flames licking at his cheeks. “That, my love, is where you’ve got the whole picture backwards. You’re the beauty here.”

“I don’t think so,” you harped, slinking around the side of his easel to face him again. You pushed the palette down gently, your fingers stuck in the cold terracotta paste left behind. “You may paint the picture, sweetheart, but the audience are the ones to appreciate and interpret it, aren’t they?”

“I suppose, but-”

Your lips had found him this time as your sullied hands wrapped around his shoulders. Your chest was pressed to his, your hips rocking perfectly against his groin. His palette scattered to the floor while the excess paint Pollocked the draping sheet beneath his canvas. His hands didn’t know where to hold as you let your lips cascade lower and lower, down the throbbing pulse of his neck, to the tips of his collarbone and finally placing a harsh bruise over his heart.

He moaned.

“Let me show you what I see.”

3 years later… (Angst time)

Felix was enraptured.

The way the ring lights of the gallery bounced off of the texture of the oil paint of this particular piece fascinated him in the most peculiar way. He didn’t think that Hyunjin had the ability to make something so soft and fragile in his repertoire! From the details of the gauze over the model’s lap to the soft flick of charcoal at the inner corner of her glimmering eye left him speechless. Every stroke was cared for and thoughtfully placed; so unlike the rough textures of the charcoal his friend was so known for dabbling in. Each shadow had a highlight that balanced it. The composition of the woman’s figure was simply spectacular. He wondered how much time he devoted to this one; it was clearly the centerpiece of the exhibit.

“So?”

Felix jumped a moment at the velvet voice behind him. The man of the hour, Hwang Hyunjin himself, had crept up behind him silent as the graves themselves. His friend was dapper in a black suit and tie while his hair was slicked back, fringe airly framing his face. He looked the part of the artist well enough and if Felix didn’t know better, he would say he looked like he was having fun. The earthy smell of tobacco followed him, however: a telltale sign of the evening’s stress and his friend’s discomfort.

“This one in particular’s stunning,” Felix mused, turning back to the painting. “She would have loved it, seeing it up close like this.”

“I invited her. I texted her, but she never responded,” Hyunjin whispered. He paused, the champagne flute in his hands suddenly more interesting than his closest friend. “I would have thought she would have wanted to see them.”

Felix’s gaze ran around the wall of the gallery. Each painting held a familiar curve, a similar wave of femininity that would pass the common viewer’s eye if they didn’t focus closely enough. He knew that this gallery was for you; that Hyunjin’s work was for you. When you left him two years ago without a trace, the hole in his friend’s chest festered into a sinkhole of obsession. It was as if the more he drew you, the more he painted your moles, your scars, and your curves, that he might be able to summon you back from the depths that you ran to, like Orpheus singing to free Euridice. That you would be in his arms again and all would be right. He could stop worshiping for just a moment and finally celebrate that his heart was whole again.

But Felix knew better. You were in the arms of someone else now.

“The night’s still young, Jinnie, she may come still,” he responded, rapping Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Don’t give up hope just yet.”

“I never will, Felix,” Hyunjin said. He gazed up at the painting with tears on his lashes threatening to fall. “I can’t. I won’t. Not until she knows I’m still here for her. Wherever she is, wherever she goes… I’ll always be thinking about her. She’ll always be a part of me.”

Felix gave a sad smile and hugged his friend tight to his chest. “I’ll let you finish up here for the night then. Get home safe, lover boy. Call me in the morning and I’ll help you pack everything up with Chan.”

Hyunjin nodded dumbly. His eyes never left his painting. 

—-

Felix traipsed down the steps of the gallery, his phone pinging as soon as service was restored.

>> How’d it go?

He smiled softly as his thumbs tapped away at the glass screen. > You were everything, my love. Just everything.

[introverted-imagineer]

The Promise (Part 19)

Sometimes the most powerful weapon of all is the ability to block out the things that overpower us. To shield our eyes in the face of grief, to conserve our hearts from those that make them ache, to preserve time in a memory that gives us the ability to remain constant in a time that’s long passed. It seems a gift outwardly, to harness a power that philosophers, seekers, kings, queens, and warriors have spent ages trying to perfect…the art of not caring. The aches, pains, and yearnings trap us in feeling, but in reality, it gives a person life. 

In this moment, I am totally dead. 

When Harald announced the great river fall was imminent…everyone responded in what I could only imagine was completely rational. Fear, refusal…total debilitating anxiety at the suicide mission ahead. I couldn’t even feel my own heart beating…I didn’t care. Like death walking, not even the feeling of bodies crushing on top of one another as we cascaded down the horizontal drop of the river falls. When Cadlin’s innocent lifeless body floated over the rocks, the pained cries of her loved ones. Nothing…total nothingness. I had seen death too much that it had become a companion. The only constant in this world. When we buried her, not even the painstaking eyes, the fury from those who couldn’t understand why I was so heartless in the wake of tragedy. Harald missing, Cadlin dead, our vessel destroyed, the Pechneg’s imminent attack, how could anyone be so horrid as to shrug their shoulders and proclaim that this was just life? I cannot control it more than the next…but as much as I tried, I was simply a walking shell of the person I once was. 

‘What about Twyla?’ Kurya announced from behind me, as I sat motionless on the side of the riverbank. ‘Wherever she is, she’s somewhere safer than here.’ I responded without looking up to acknowledge his presence. The pebbles cracked together as I could feel Kurya bring himself to the ground, his shoulder nudging against mine. ‘You? Y/N? Losing hope after all this work?’. I could feel Kurya’s body tense as my shoulders simply shrugged against his side. He exhaled deeply in a frustrated manner. ‘You don’t care…not even for your own daughter Y/N?’ He questioned furiously, a tone of accusation in his voice as he had already deciphered the answer to his question before I could even blink. ‘Nothing we do matters…nothing we do will ever matter’. The sharp shards of pebble and rocks crushed beneath my palms as I grasped at the ground beneath me. ‘Twyla needs you’ Kurya stated dismissively, as if it were a fact. 

‘IT’S BEEN MONTHS KURYA’ I screamed from the depths of my gut, the words vibrating my vocal's chords, scratching my throat. From a distance, the sound of cluttering, crushing and chatting turn to silence as everyone's attention directed down the riverbed. ‘MONTHS KURYA, I WOULDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE EVEN IF SHE WERE STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!’ ‘There’s more to people than just being able to see them, you don’t need to lecture me about that Y/N.’ Kurya seethed back angrily, his voice getting louder, desperate to hold them back, fighting as each word escaped. ‘IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU KURYA’ I retorted aggressively. ‘NOTHING YOU DO MATTERS, NOTHING I DO MATTERS, NOTHING THAT ANYONE HERE WILL EVER DO WILL EVER MATTER!’ The shards of rock scraped against my legs as I gathered myself from the ground ‘MATHILDA DOESN’T MATTER, THE VIKINGS REVENGE DOES NOT MATTER, THAT FUCKING BOAT OF THERE DOESN’T MATTER, NOT ME NOT YOU, NOT THEM, NOT YOUR SIGHT, NOT MATHILDA, AND NOT YOUR DEAD FUCKING WIFE’. 

‘You would be wise not to speak a word about my wife, child’ Kurya fiercely spat as he gathered himself from the ground, his body facing toward me as all his senses came alive at once in the face of vengeance.  ‘FUCK THE VIKINGS, FUCK THE SAXONS, FUCK THE PECHNEGS, BUT MOST OF ALL FUCK YOU’ I savagely berated, not only directing my fury at Kurya but at everyone else as they looked on baffled at the unfolding scene before them. ‘I’M BETTER OFF ALONE, I ALWAYS HAVE BEEN AND I ALWAYS WILL BE!’ I stormed past Kurya as his breathing intensified, stunned to silence, his body frozen…but I couldn’t deal with anything or anyone anymore. I stormed over to the vessel, grabbing one of the few furs Harald had kept from his stock. Leif stood watching on as Mariam curled up into his side, almost fearful as I threw items around, dismantling everything we had spent the past few weeks gathering and transporting. Adrenaline rushed uncontrollably through my body, and everyone was wise to not restrain me. I stormed up to Leif, Mariam grasping onto him tightly as he quickly shielded her small frame behind his larger one. I could feel his hot breath on mine as I stood face to face with his, our noses bumping slightly. ‘If you ever see that Viking again…you tell him I said the world will be a doomed one if he ever sits on the throne’. 

I was done with these people…I would never see them again. 

‘Kurya’ Mariam whispered tentatively as she slowly walked up behind him. Kurya had not moved for some time since Y/N stormed off, declaring she was done with anything and everything for good…not even for the dearest friend she’d ever had…not even for her own daughter. ‘Let’s find Harald’. He demanded, turning away from the direction Y/N had stormed off too. 

The terrain was mostly flat, not proving ideal for anyone who wanted to hide within the depths of the Pechneg territory. But I wasn’t trying to hide. The only peace I needed was knowing that Twyla was somewhere safe…I know I didn’t know it for certain but anywhere was better than here. She was one of the very few people in this world I had truly loved and lost, there was nothing from here, I wasn’t at peace with the world, but at peace with death. 

‘HYA! HYA!’ The sound of horses’ hoofs beating against the ground carried out in the distance as the sound of deep thick foreign voices shouted at one another. I stopped, slowing circling around the deserted fields as the noises seemed to get louder. Endlessly circling, a pang in my gut begun to ring at the realisation…something I hadn’t experienced in an age. Being truly, completely and utterly alone…susceptible and vulnerable to whatever prowled within close proximity. 

Maybe I wasn’t at peace with death as I wanted to believe. 

‘ARGHHH’ That scream…a voice I’d know anywhere. The pang in my stomach turned to a punch. Harald’s cries echoed from behind the trees as the sound of horse hoofs carried in the same direction Harald’s screams did. I didn’t care anymore…I couldn’t…I wouldn’t let myself, circulated through my brain, filling my head so I couldn’t think of anything else. I couldn’t care…I shouldn’t care…My head said one thing, but I couldn’t ignore the pangs deep within my stomach that radiated through my chest…I shouldn’t care

But I must. 

On the other side of the trees, Leif and Kurya silently stalked towards the smell of burning wood, smoking flowing freely through the air, proving that without a doubt this was, and always will be the pechnegs territory. A small camp, the tribe clearly showed no fear in their significantly small number. There was no concealing it, no worry, no fear…this was Pechneg territory. 

“Kurya and I will bargain with the leader for Harald…If they don’t bring us horses it means we have failed…You must get back to the boat and leave as quickly as possible” Leif instructed the girls as the group sat lowly in the fields, camouflaging themselves within the tall grass as they formulated a plan. Kurya sat silently amongst the group, listening intently to the conversations of his former people. There was no doubt in his mind, the urgency they spoke to one another, the sound of sharpening tools and metal scarping together. Harald was within his brothers grasp…and they were prepared for anything. 

“No. We wont leave without everyone…including Y/N” Eleana stubbornly exclaimed, her eyes bearing deep into Leif’s as she was intent on manifesting a safe return for all. Even Y/N. Leif sighed, bringing his hand to his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a frustrated groan. “Y/N has made it very clear, they do not want anything to do with us anymore, Y/N has gone and we will leave them.” Eleana looked back at Leif with anger, frustrated by Leif’s lack of hope. Before Leif could protest any longer, her grasped Kurya by the arm, crawling closer to the camp, leaving Eleana and the girls alone, their quarrel unresolved. 

As Leif and Kurya edged closer to the camp, the sound of the Khan’s voice could be heard laughing through the camp. Simultaneously, Leif’s cries could be heard borrowing deep from within his gut. The Khan clearly enjoying the torture at hand he dealt. 

“Leif…you must promise me something” Kurya whispered, lowering himself down to the ground, forcing Leif to do the same. “Y/N is a stubborn, impulsive, unpredictable individual, I would be a fool to not recognise how she angers you and has betrayed everyone with her sudden abandonment…But you must understand, my young friend, Y/N has lived and endured a life that not even I know the extent of. You must promise me Leif, you will find her and take her with you to Constantinople. Y/N will fight you, argue, make your life hell all the way there…but will regret it if they don’t.” Kurya pleaded, his eyebrows bunching together and he extended his hand towards Leif. “You heard Y/N, Y/N has no use for us anymore…Y/N is gone for good,” Leif whispered back, saliva escaping his mouth as he seethed with anger at the thought of risking everyone's lives to find Y/N again. 

Leif took a deep sigh, reaching out again, placing his hand on Leif’s chest. “Y/N has a daughter. A beautiful little girl who she has been separated from mere months after her birth.” Kurya could feel the beat of Leif's heart rise at the news, shocked at the prospect of Y/N having had a child since he last saw them. “My wife and I were never blessed with children ourselves, through Y/N, and through her daughter have I finally experienced the type of love my wife and I craved…a love for a family so pure that you would do anything for them. I cannot presume you understand that type of love yourself, but I urge you…protect my family.” Leif felt his heartbeat speeding up as he thought of his own family…his sister, the child that she had bore. Leif’s concentration from the Pechnegs to Kurya’s pleas stifled at the thought of the parentage of the child Kurya spoke of…Leif knew all too well who the father of Y/N’s baby was. 

“I will do this for you Kurya, only you…but you will be with me to bring Y/N back yourself”. 

The smell of smoke engorged my senses as I trailed closer to the sound of foreign words that carried through the trees. Each step forward, the louder his screams carried. Through the trees, the camp was prominently erect. This was Pechneg territory, and by the sounds of the screams, and the clutter of weaponry that stood outside the minuscule number of tents, the Pechnegs were not a forgiving lot. I didn’t need to do this…I didn’t owe Harald Siggurdson anything. My body however defiled my thoughts, with each protest, another step forward. 

As I reached the edge of the surrounding forest, I knew there was something deep down that wasn’t going to let me leave. Kurya…Harald…they had become so ingrained in my life that I could barely remember the hustle and bustle of everyday life before Æthelred’s castle…before the Vikings…before Kattegat…before Twyla. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden disturbance as the Pechnegs drew their weapons running in one direction toward the long grass across the other side of the field. Their shouts turned to roars as the men called and shouted toward the camp. From a tent, one man emerged, his eyes squinted as he strode out, fighting the sun rays as he bore his eyes to where the Pechnegs had all run to. The men circled something, and their shouts turned to cheers as the man near the tent took a step back in somewhat disbelief.  The men walked back toward the camp as two foreign-looking bodies strode back to the camp with them…Leif Erikson…with a knife held to Kurya’s throat. 

“CUT HIM DOWN OR I KILL HIM” Leif demanded as he stormed into the tent, escorted by the men that had just ran threateningly towards the pair, now looking at Leif as some kind of hero. “You know who this is do you?” Leif questioned, staring up and down at the man who looked the pair up and down disbelievingly. Harald panted profusely beside them as he hung, strung up by the flesh of his own skin. “This is the brother to the Khan…” the man mumbled to himself, his eyes bewildered at the sight of the brother which the Khan had spent years vengefully seeking. “Cut him down or I kill him” Leif demanded. The men stared at Leif, the fate of their Khan’s long-sought mission, all within destruction at the blade of a stranger who had barged into their camp like a hero. 

Harald’s sharp breathing turned slow as his knees hit the ground hard…the metal pins pulled from his chest proving instant relief to the torture he had just endured. There was no time to curl over in pain…instead adrenaline rushed through his body, ready to return to the one person who seemed to bring him a small sense of peace in the chaotic world he existed within. 

“Somethings happened, they haven’t come with the horses Eleana exclaimed, as the trio crawled across the field, edging closer to the camp. From the camp, Kurya, Harald and Leif emerged from the tent, Leif’s heroic welcome turned completely as the Pechnegs dragged the three men across the ground to the pillars, tying all the men up. A man exited the tent, another pechneg following closely behind them, clutching a wooden box within his grasp. The man stalked toward Harald, Leif and Kurya, carefully inspecting them as they kneeled, tied to the pillars, totally at mercy to whatever the man had planned for him. He turned around, retrieving a knife from the box, speaking triumphantly to the army of Pechnegs around him theatrically…enjoying the moment as if it were long awaited. The Pechnegs laughed as they intently watched him wave the knife around as he spoke to them. 

Kurya, Leif and Harald’s eyes flicked about in panic as they watched the man tauntingly stalk between them, deciding whom his first victim was going to be…ultimately deciding on Leif. He ran his knife up the back of Leif’s shirt with total ease as if he had done this a hundred times before. The girls could barely hear a sound from Leif as the man sliced his knife alongside the Vikings back. They stalked toward the camp slowly, unsettled and lost in thought as alternative plans ran through their heads. They were not going to leave their comrades…but they had no idea as to how they were going to come out of this alive. 

Lost in thought, they could hear grunts slowly escape Leif as they crawled closer and closer to the spectacle of torture that befell their friends. They were outnumbered, there was nothing. 

The sound of laughter was suddenly replaced by yells of terror as the sound of horse hoofs trampled through the camp. The girls stood from the ground, amazed at the sight before them as dread turned to hope. The stampede flew through the camp, galloping and neighing gloriously through the Pechneg camp. As the stampede galloped around the camp, a figure emerged from behind the tents. “Y/N” Eleana whispered to herself. 

“GO” I screamed at the women as they stood in shock at the sight before them. Their stunned frozen silence turned into total adrenaline as they ran toward the camp, grabbing onto the discarded weaponry that lay unattended across the field. 

‘KURYA’ I yelled sprinting desperately toward him as the chaos begun to settled, the Pechnegs realising they were no longer in the comfortable dominant position they thought they were before. My feet carried me so fast, it felt like I couldn’t keep up with myself. My balance faltering me as I fell towards the ground. ‘Ahhhhh’ a deep foreign voice screamed, emitted louder as the sound carried closer and closer. A new group of men emerged from the trees, one man dressed much grander than the men that surrounded him…it didn’t take much debate to realise who this man was. Kurya had cursed his name so many times, vowing to be the end of him. 

The Khan. 

However his attention was not fixated on the chaos of the camp before him, but on the person that had just desperately called his brother's name…and his horses were racing toward me. 

My legs kicked beneath me as my body was hoisted from the ground. A foreign body clasped tightly behind me as I kicked and flailed, desperate to escape the grasp behind me. The person barely struggled against my flailing movements, seemingly unfazed by the fight I attempted to put up. 

My body was thrown to the ground behind a tent. I reached across the ground, clutching one of the swords that lay aimlessly on the ground, clutching its hilt and bringing it up to whoever had flung me to the ground as if I weighed nothing. ‘Easy Saxon’ Leif muttered, looking around the camp, searching for the others. ‘You leave us again, I’ll kill every Pechneg before I get to you myself’ he lectured, huffing at the end of his sentence clearly not too pleased with my return. I stumbled to a stand, Leif gripping his own weapon slightly tighter in his clutch. ‘I DIDN’T COME HERE TO BE RESCUED’ I shouted back, matching the anger Leif was clearly trying to bottle up. 

‘THERES NO TIME, GET A HORSE AND GET OUT’ Leif yelled, running back towards to fight at hand. 

‘Y/N’ Brigtoc cried, galloping around the corner, her red hair flowing in the wind behind her as she clasped onto the reigns of another horse. I clutched the reigns of the horse, throwing my leg over the horse, climbing up onto the horse desperately as it trotted amongst the chaos unfolding. The smell of smoke intensified as the tents began to blaze intensely. 

‘Where’s Kurya?” I cried at Brigtoc. ‘Y/N’ Kurya’s voice sounded desperately, calling my name. I whipped the reigns, mentally apologising to the magnificent beast beneath me as I galloped toward Kurya. I grasped onto Kurya’s shoulder desperately squeezing it as if to convince myself this was all still real. ‘CLIMB UP’ I yelled, watching as our comrades galloped off across the field towards the waterfront. ‘Y/N’ Harald’s voice cried as his horse roared to a stop…his eyes bearing into mine. Staring back into his, I could see Twyla’s. I could feel my heart starting to beat again…and I knew that I couldn’t give up. Not for Kurya, not for Harald, not for Twyla. 

‘THEY’RE COMING’ Leif’s voice cried as the boat came within sight. Batu and Kaysan hurried toward the boat, desperately pushing at its clutches as our horses came roaring towards them. Kurya’s clutch around my waist slightly begun to loosen. I reached down, holding the reigns strongly with one hand, grasping onto where Kurya’s hands clasped around my front. ‘I’m sorry Kurya’ I wept desperately. ‘I never should have said what I said, I never should have left, the truth is you have filled a hole in my heart that has long been missing, and I could never ever not love you. You are my family now’. His clutch slightly tightened, as his head lovingly curled into my shoulder blade. 

As we reached the boat, we desperately de-saddled, smacking the horses behinds, sending them flying away from the chaos. Every desperately pushed onto the boat. ‘C’mon’ I said, grasping at Kurya’s forearm leading him towards the boat, but instead, he clutched onto me grasping my shoulders, forcing my body to face his. His hands gently trailed up my neck, toward my face as he placed his palms on my flustered cheeks. ‘You and Twyla will always be my family…the amount of love I feel for you both, I would never be able to put into words my young friend’. He gently brought my face towards his, placing a gentle kiss on both my cheeks, leaning back stroking his palms down the sweaty hair on my head, smoothing it down. ‘Goodbye dearest Y/N’ he said, taking a step backwards, turning toward the sound of the stamped of horse hoofs that cascaded through the trees towards us. ‘NO KURYA’ I cried, stomping after him, only to be lifted from the ground from behind. My sight blurred as the tears flooded my eyes. I could barely grasp a breath as the blur of Kurya’s body stalked back inland. ‘I’m sorry Y/N, I made him a promise’ Leif’s voice whispered in my ear as he walked up the plank of the boat, placing my body down as the weight of the boat shifted, flowing slowly down the river, scraping against the rocks below. 

‘ÜLGEN I AM READY’ Kurya’s voice cried. My screamed shrilled, echoing as I stumbled toward the edge of the boat, desperately trying to climb over the edge. ‘Y/N’ Leifs voice yelled, his hands grasping at my waist, dragging me back onto the boat. ‘LEIF PLEASE I NEED HIM’ Leif let out a defeated sigh, my cries intensifying as the sound of Kurya’s shouts sounded further and further away. ‘LEIF PLEASE’ I cried. 

Leif’s footsteps slowly stalked across the wooden boards of the boat. I wiped my eyes looking towards Leif to find him stood with a bow and arrow in hand, a whistling sound screeching over my head as Leif released the arrow. 

Suddenly, Kurya’s cries silenced. His footsteps sounded toward me again, his body crouching beside mine. Leif lent in, silently whispering into my ear. ‘We will find your daughter Y/N…I promised Kurya that.’ 

[dimancheetoile]

uh, hi.

maybe you're seeing this on your dash and thinking "hum, this username is kinda familiar". maybe you do remember me, in which case, again, hi.

i've been gone for an entire year. it hasn't been a great one. for those who read my posts before, you might already know this, but for everyone else, I was born with a rare genetic condition. on top of that, i had a very serious accident at 13 that more or less destroyed my right leg. i haven't been able to walk right since then, and it hasn't been helped by the following years of botched surgeries, complications from the operation, misdiagnosis and medical malpractice. i'm left with a barely functional leg that has a permanently torn set of ligaments, collapsed nerves and debilitating, constant, torturous chronic pain.

then i had a weird relapse of sorts. a bucketful of symptoms. hives and flushing, limbs and joints swelling, rashes, trouble breathing, sudden drops in blood pressure, heart rate above 100 at rest, stomach cramps, nausea, headaches, migraines, chronic fatigue, confusion, memory loss, dizziness and loss of consciousness. it's called MCAS.

i can't describe to you what it's like to never be well. to never wake up in a body that feels right, even just ok. to always have something going wrong, something painful, something that doesn't work right.

i'm hooked up to an oxygen machine twice a day. i wear a compression garment that goes from my ankles up to the tips of my fingers. i have to do two self-injections every month. i live with additional compressive equipment for both my knees, both my ankles, both my wrists, an elbow. i have a machine with electrodes i can put on painful areas to electrocute them and sometimes, it helps with the pain. i have to use pain-relief plasters and poultices a couple times a day.

i have premature arthritis. the arthritis in my back ate all the cartilage of my last three vertebrae (the ones above your tailbones, your lower back) so i'm like a car with no suspensions. my vertebrae are rubbing against each other with nothing in between to protect them, my discs are crushed, i have severe sciatica. chronic light sensitive migraines.

my joints don't hold. since january, I dislocated my left knee leading to a synovium effusion (big pocket of the lube in your joint that gathers and forms a ball and it pushes on your nerves, ligaments, tendons and tissue); i sprained my left ankle and it tore my external ligament and heel ligament. i dislocated a bunch of my fingers multiple times.

oh, i also got diagnosed with endometriosis and PCOS.

i live bedridden now. i have an entire grocery bag of medication sitting by my bed so i can reach it easily. opioids, neuropathic pain medication, anti-inflammatory medication, a medication that completely stops my period.

and that's without mentioning the hours and hours of hospital visits, specialists, family doctors, physical therapists, etc.

i'm gonna be honest. same time last year, i was having a hard time. i had turned 25 in january and moved into my first apartment since uni. it's in the same village as my mom which is the only reason i could live independently. so i was just 25 and all the MCAS stuff was happening on top of everything else and i had this realisation that this was what the rest of my life would look like, but worse, because my disease is degenerative. it gets worse as you age.

so i was just 25 and i realised i had the next 50 to suffer through this and more, and suddenly i didn't want to be here anymore. there was no ideation, it was more a complete break down of my hopes for the future. what was my future going to look like in this cursed body?

anyway, i collapsed under the mental pressure, my health continued to worsen. what i used to be able to do was no so much harder, and sometimes impossible. i was a 25-year-old in a prison of their own flesh. i couldn't deal with the rest of the world, so i cut myself off from it.

i'm doing better now, mentally. physically, it's only gotten worse. as i write this, i'm reaching for my pain meds because everything below my right knee is screaming in agony and i have a splitting headache. this is a good day for me.

thank you, if you've read this far. thank you, if you thought about me even once in the past year. i'm not asking for anything, except maybe to talk with you if you have a similar story. i feel so alone in this hell, it'd be nice to talk to someone.

i love you all.

-mako

[go-river-flows]

Sweet Visions of a flower

Summary: Syulang (OC), an orphaned girl after the destruction of Hometree. She is constanly reminded of this by her amputated left leg and constantly dreams of her deep trauma. Even when she gets adopted by Toruk Makto and his wife, who she resented for over six years before forgiving him.

Part 3 or ?

I let them up into my tented canopy, The boys looked around as young Kiri, sat between her father’s legs. Jake Sully’s eyes stayed looking at me, as I tried avoiding eye contact.

“I'm sorry, this must sound…rude. Can you tell me your name again?” Jake Sully asked. Though I was hesitant, I told him my name.

“Syulang.” 

“Syulang,” he repeated, falling silent. Though he was repeating that name in his head over and over again like a mantra. “You know, I never forgot about you.”

I scoffed lightly, holding back an incredulous laugh. I know it was a lie. I looked at his children and the human one, who now sat down next to me looking at my false leg. His curious eyes got bigger as he looked at it with great intrigue, staring at the mechanism and weaving. 

“I see the great Toruk Makto got busy,” I didn't mean it to come out so rudely. His eyes widened a little bit. I mentally cursed myself for inviting them in. “You don't have to lie, I already know the truth.”

I didn't have to look to know he grimaced at that. 

“You know, as leader of the clan, I have to lead the people. Take care of them. So can you tell me why you’re not with the clan?” he asked calmly, almost gentle. It made me want to cry, I tried repressing those memories, the destruction of Hometree. The death of my parents, friends. My injury. The aftereffects of war. It was all too much. I have nightmares. I prayed to Eywa to forget, but she never helped.

  So I told him about just that. He sat and listened. His children too. They gathered sitting near listening to the story. I was only ten when this all happened, imagine how traumatised I was. How I couldn't stay with the clan as it was a constant reminder of the many losses we suffered, and how both my parents were killed, not just one, but both. How I cried myself to sleep for days, how my Uncle Pawk couldn't calm me. I decided to leave. I feel ghost pains in my left leg. Toruk Makto listened. After that, he thanked me for talking to him, he gathered his children and they left to go back home. That night I had difficulty sleeping so I went to cuddle with my big cat and her babies.

  The following day I woke up against my thanator, her soft purring and warmth much like a mother’s warm embrace. I thanked her for her comfort as I began my day as usual. Drinking some river water, washing my face, hunting fish for the day, washing my body in the lake. Then Lo’a and I went hunting for some meat. 

  After hunting and bringing back a carcass of a fwampop, also known as a Tapirus. Thanking Eywa for the life of the creature. I pet Lo’a’s head as well, thanking her for being by my side. I cut up the meat and wrapped them into portions with leaves, packing the rest of it in a covered hole I used as storage. For the rest of the day, I did my chores, weaving new baskets, collecting fruit, herbal plants and organising my canopy. 

  What I wasn't expecting was the call of an ikran and its rider, landing on the branch just above my home. A huge gust of wind knocked over my many baskets, which bumped my water pot over the edge of my canopy. Shattering it as it collided with the ground a few metres down, nearly smashing on my resting thanator, who made a startled sound looking up at me. Arrgh, I growled in anger, punching the tree trunk, annoyed. A familiar face popped into view from above my tented canopy, just showing their head looking guilty. If not for the situation I would have found it funny. Toruk Makto, Jake Sully. Oh Eywa! I hissed at him, wanting to scratch his eyes out.

“You owe me a pot,” I snarled at him. Slumping down in defeat, “I just cleaned up, you stupid Toruk Makto!” 

His face scrunching up into a guilty yet apologetic expression, a small voice calling out as another face popped into view.

“Hi Syulang!” Neteyam greeted chipperly. I greeted back with a grunt. “Oh wow, it's messy in here,” he stated at the obvious mess, making me grumble with my ears pinned back, arms crossing over my chest with irritation. There came another call of an ikran, it too landing on the branch above, however, gracefully and blowing gentle wind through my canopy home.

“Can we come in?” Neteyam asked. I looked up at the boy and gave a singular nod. “Dad, help me down.” I watched as Jake Sully lowered Neteyam into my canopy. Then a smaller boy, Lo’ak. Who ran over to me, diving into my lap, hugging my torso as I kept my arms on my chest, my ears twitched in annoyance. Finally Jake himself entered my canopy as another Na’vi made themself known. The warrior and Toruk Makto’s wife, Neytiri, with a babe wrapped around her front. I stood in shock, greeting her. Little Lo’ak still with arms wrapped around my torso hung when I stood.

“Sister, I see you,” formally greeting her, hand to my head and gently bowing. She did the same.

“Lo’ak, let go,” Jake pried the little boy off as he giggled. I noticed in the corner of my eye, Neteyam was picking up the baskets, gently scooping the fallen contents, returning them into it's respective basket even though he didn't have to. 

“Ma Jake told me that there was a young girl living all alone out here,” Neytiri spoke, my eyes shifted to Jake again staring him down as he still held the same apologetic expression, he soon joined his son picking up the baskets, cleaning up my canopy. “I had to come to see for myself. If you were who he said you were. Syulang, I see you. And I want to thank you properly. All those years ago, I heard of a child with a broken leg, dragging my father from our fallen Hometree. Throughout the chaos, no one had asked your name. They only talked about a girl from our Omatikaya Clan. Young, brave, fearless, who sacrificed her own leg for a proper burial for my father, Eytukan. My dear, I thank you. Eywa thanks you. I see you. Come back to the clan.” Neytiri wrapped her arms around my shoulders, bringing me into a hug. I shook my head no. 

“No, I will not. If Toruk Makto told you everything, you would know the reason why,” I told her. Jake’s ear twitched at his title.

“I know, I have heard. I cannot ask you to forgive, but I plead with you to come home. Your mother, your father would want you to be with your clan,” Neytiri begged. I wanted to cry at the mention of my parents. “You don't have to be an orphan, we can take care of you,” Neytiri proclaimed, “Our family have talked, we want to take you in.” She looked at her husband, who gave a soft smile. “You can stay with us in our nest,” she gently hummed. A part of me does. I miss having a family, I miss my mother’s touch, I miss my father’s reassurance. My heart pounded hard, I sighed trying to take it all in.

Pulling away from Neytiri, I though about it. I looked at the two boys, at Jake Sully. My feelings about him have always been mixed, but yet he looked at me with sad and understanding eyes. 

“Okay,” I quietly mumbled. Their ears perked, Neteyam, Jake and Lo’ak’s eyes lighting up. 

“We’ll pick you up tonight, pack your belongings,” Neytiri offered, her hands rubbing my arms in a comforting manner. The boys had finished cleaning up and were standing together.

“Before you go, take some things,” I left my canopy, sliding down the long thick rope. Strolling past my thanator, I opened up the storage hole, pulling all the fresh food from inside. The preservatives remained, just in case. The two adults had climbed down from my canopy, finding me halfway in a hole. Their footsteps alerted me. 

“These are from my morning hunt, and some fruit preserves for the children,” I handed them small closed packaged leaf containers, fashioned into a jar, “These last for a long time.” My ears perked, Neytiri thanked me with a smile. Jake picked up all the wrapped meat, thanking me too. “There are more in this hole, enough to feed a large family, but they are mostly preserved.”

Not long after, Toruk Makto, his wife and children took off back home. Their ikrans screeched in the distance. I began packing most of my belongings, retrieving my bow and arrows. Covering the food storage hole as well. I wove a large basket for Lo’a’s cubs just in case. I decided to keep my canopy up in the tree in case I would return. Finally rolling up my mat, I lay to wait for Jake and Neytiri. Eclipse is coming soon. I looked up at the darkening sky, watching the stars glimmer when I noticed a constellation of new stars. Sitting up properly to take a better look, I realise what it was.

*

How many years ago was it now? A new star descending from the sky. It scarred the land as aliens destroyed the land. The burnt and greying land, a reminder of the destruction that the sky people brought. Not long after, they arrived at our doorstep. Pink flesh, small and carrying weapons, designed to slaughter. Our Olo’eyktan and Tsashik stood and greeted the sky people with contempt, hesitation. Fear. They came in false bodies, wanting to teach the people English, to learn about our culture, everything. To assimilate. There were those who rejected them, and those who welcomed them. But they broke our trust, destroyed everything we held dear. Demons.

*

Sky demons. They have returned. I ignored my mind at that moment, I grabbed my two sling packs and archery equipment, dropped from my canopy to the ground in a rush. Gathering the cubs into the basket and climbing onto Lo’a’s back. Connecting my queue, I told her to run. Run as fast as you can. She sped away as fast as she could whilst holding our weight. The cubs whined in fear as the scorching heat reached us, though we were far away, we could see the flames emitted from the foreign metal creature. The great winds it produced as it landed, burning everything in it's radius, red and orange disintegrating Eywa’s creations. The anger I felt, the agony I felt. I roared out in anguish, the only thing I could do was run. The call of ikrans above me snapped me out of my furiosity. Voices yelling out my name.

“SYULANG!!!” 

“Keep going!” I urged Lo’a, “To the Hallelujah mountains!” Lo’a turned off to the right, running as fast as she could, jumping over fallen logs, not stopping for a moment. We kept going even though the heat retreated.

“SYULANG!!!” the voices screamed out. I looked up, as an Ikran flew over me. I waved up at the rider, Neytiri, who was watching in stunned awe. She lands not too far away and hops down from her ikran rushing to me, Lo’a growls at her as I disconnect tsaheylu, I carry the basket of cubs with me as Lo’a is on my tail.

Neytiri, grabs the basket from me looking down into it. Lo’a produces a low yowl.

“It’s okay Lo’a, we’re taking them somewhere safe,” I kissed the top of her head, she nudged me. The other ikran also arrives behind us, Jake rushing over, checking me over.

“Ma jake, take her things. We’re taking you up to High Camp, we must hurry,” Jake, pulls my bags from me pulling them over his shoulder.

“Hold on,” I turn to Lo’a giving her a hug, resting my forehead on the top of her head, “I’ll look for you. Keep going to the floating mountains.”

“Come, Syulang,” Neytiri pulls me toward her ikran. She climbs up first, pulling me up to sit behind her. “Hold on tight.” I wrapped my arms around Neytiri’s waist, her Ikran ascended quickly, almost giving me whiplash. 

We flew for a while, into the fog. Toruk Makto flying beside us. It was strangely calm here. Quiet. I haven't been in the sky in a long time. It felt freeing, I looked at my false leg, it was a part of me that I couldn't simply let go. It's what keeps me living. If I didn't have it, I wouldn't move freely. I’ll forgive Jake Sully. I'll forgive my Toruk Makto. I understand now. For seven years I harboured deep resentment for the man, every time I saw him I would scowl, eyebrows furrowing in indignation. I think It's time to let go. For the first time, I smiled at him with tears. I forgive you. And he smiled back.

Arriving in the High Camp, we were greeted by the surviving Omatikaya clan. Some gasped when they realised who was with Toruk Makto and his wife. Pawk pushed through the crowd as Neytiri slid off her Ikran. Holding her arms out for me to slide into. 

“Syulang!” Pawk ran to embrace me. The clan collectively gasped at the realisation. Pawk looked me over from head to toe, before he cupped his hands around my face, tears falling from his face. “You're all grown up. You look like your mother.”

Neytiri tugged at my hand and Pawk let me go with Neytiri. She held my hand pulling us through the crowd, the members parting to make a path. They stared in stunned silence. Some looked at me as if they just remembered their missing clan member, the others looking at my legs.

Neytiri brought me to her mother’s tent. Stopping at the entrance as Mo’at pushed open the opening flap. Coming face to face with her daughter. Her eyes widened as they fell on me. 

“Come, come in,” Mo’at rushed us in, closing the flap. As we knelt down in front of Mo’at, she pulled me into a hug. “My dear little one. I see you.”

We talked for a long time, in that conversation she asked me why I left the clan, why I couldn't have come to just talk to my Tsahik. I told her everything, my trauma, how I resented Toruk Makto, and how I had come to forgive him. Some tears were spilt and some breaks were in order. After it all, I was exhausted. Before I left to get some rest, Mo’at retrieved something for me. “I believe this belongs to you,” Mo’at said, unwrapping a cloth. In her hands were three necklaces, and I broke down in tears one final time. My mother’s, father’s and even Rumut’s necklaces. I cried until exhaustion overtook me, I fell asleep in Neytiri’s arms.

<–Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Shreya A Cadwell

Published: May 7, 2022

One of the best movie characters I have seen portray PTSD symptoms is Charlie in “The perks of being a wallflower.” Throughout the movie, his silent suffering and disturbing symptoms affect his life quality and relationships. Charlie experiences several flashbacks and relives the trauma repeatedly with a racing heart. Scenes play on in the back of his head with memories that are so painful to remember that he has forgotten large parts of the whole story. He has suffered a series of unfortunate events during his life, something I can relate to, which made me develop PTSD myself. Today, there are many productions that display mental illness, “13 reasons why” is another example, and one of the reasons why mental health is more widely talked about than ever before.

In real life, PTSD is a diagnosis that often comes with great empathy from people around you. Known as a common stress disorder among veterans, it is almost like wearing a badge of honor in today’s society. Let me explain why this can become troublesome for us that live with a mental disorder.

The feeling of constant shame

It is lunchtime, and I am on the subway on my way down to the city core of Stockholm. I have carefully chosen a spot on the train close to the doors where I can see people from every train angle. I listen carefully to every sound around me, and every person that might look or act a little odd has my full attention. I can feel sweat running down my back.

“Does anyone notice how nervous I am?”

At the third station, a woman enters the train. She walks through the sliding doors and sits down with her friend in front of me. She is one of the people on the train that I find odd.

She wears a pair of black sunglasses and a black cap, and she holds her friend’s hand as she rocks her body slowly back and forth, seemingly nervous. It looks like she has a panic attack.

What struck me in this situation is how she acts out her stress in front of everyone and has her friend’s full attention the whole trip. She strokes her hand. They both have that look in their eyes,

“Can you not see that she is suffering?”

I know many people with severe disorders, from having one myself. We have one thing in common: the feeling of shame. Shame for what we have been through, guilt for letting it happen, and shame for letting it happen again.

When you feel this intense amount of shame for what you are, you are not so eager to show it in front of other people, not even in a group meeting with people who deal with the same feelings.

Most of us would not dream of putting ourselves in such a vulnerable situation where so many people publicly got to see our worst moments of fear.

No, we suck it up, avoid and hide.

We become chameleons in a society that praise people who are open with their imagined illnesses.

A mental illness is not a badge of honor. Many self-diagnosed people out there get to represent an illness they do not even suffer. There are many tests and articles online and a generation of social media awareness on mental health problems. That leads many to self-diagnose a severe illness, and we do not just diagnose ourselves but even the people around us. How many life coaches out there put up clip after clip on tackling narcissists?

Can we self-diagnose cancer?

No, and how do we feel about people who fake serious illnesses? We despise them. But you have to pretend many symptoms psychically for cancer and other serious diseases. It is easier to put on a spontaneous show of having an anxiety attack.

Yes, the woman on the train may have a mental illness. I can’t be the judge of that. Her behavior felt staged and didn’t align with how many of my friends act or how I operate. It was a bit too much of everything. We all show emotion and handle difficult situations differently. I respect that some people might act out that way, but I would not consider it the norm. Most of us want to fit in so well with the rest, so we act our way through situations or avoid them.

“Emotional numbing is a way for many to cope with life.”

It took me years to get diagnosed with PTSD and to get help. I felt that the health care system did not take me seriously when I entered the room at the therapist’s office. I managed to talk about what I had gone through in a civil matter. After meeting several therapists, I met the right one, who chose to look at my background and how my body reacts to situations instead of what I decided to show openly.

One of my first therapists wrote in my journal that I was in a very sane state of mind when talking and just needed a little help and support. Therefore I was not in such need of direct assistance. Today, I know it is called emotional numbing, a character trait for someone with PTSD. It is how I have learned to cope with what I have on my brain when adrenaline rushes through my system. That is how many of us who have suffered severe trauma copes with life.

The consequences of self-diagnosis

Although we have a greater awareness of mental health issues, our openness has helped destigmatize them. It has also affected people by attributing it to symptoms of imagined mental illness. A professional medical diagnosis is hard to obtain for a reason.

I believe that one of the consequences of a society where people now self-diagnose severe mental health disorders is that those who suffer for real do not get the help they need. It is more convenient for a therapist to take on patients who need a few meetings, a couple of pills, and then it is over and done. They are paid the same for that type of patient and a patient like me, with a history of multiple fallbacks and repeated trauma patterns.

Most of us who suffer from high functioning mental illness hide it pretty well, and the only ones who get to experience and suffer with us to some degree are often family members and partners. But all around us, our coworkers and friends use the complex word anxiety when they mean that they are stressed. Stress and low moods such as sadness or grief are normal and healthy coping mechanisms that are part of life. Anxiety is a deep-rooted rumination that something will go wrong, all the time and in every situation.

It enhances the feeling of isolation and loneliness you already feel because you are not coping on the same level as your friend who has self-diagnosed. All of a sudden, “everyone” suffers from anxiety. Everywhere you turn and it downplays the suffering you feel yourself.

Another problem with self-diagnosis is that it can prevent you from seeing the real issue, for example, an underlying medical issue.

“You do not have a monopoly on pain.”

Some happenings are part of life, which are such joint suffering for most people. Then there is the sudden or long-lasting trauma of an event that is so specific to you that it’s hard to get other people to understand the suffering and fear you’ve experienced.

To hear that you can be diagnosed with PTSD for going through a divorce or think you can because you experience some complicated emotions. It downplays the suffering of more complex situations where your life has been in great danger. It takes away the real struggle from those who are suffering.

The lines get more blurry for diagnostic requirements for mental illnesses that affect your daily life and it has severe consequences for us. Eventually, that can take us down a very dark path instead of staying put on the road to recovery.

Shreya A Cadwell is a writer with a particular interest in psychology, politics, and sociology. She is diagnosed with PTSD and, therefore, has a burning passion for how mental health reflects our society and how we live.

==

Self-diagnosis is much like blaming the devil for your failings, or blaming your astrology sign for your bad behavior.

Self-diagnosis is also the exact same thing as "self ID."

[newhologram]

10 whole years ago, Cleo died and my world came crashing down. My mental and physical health tanked, with 6 new diagnoses within a year. I dropped out of acting class, and auditions and set work came to a screeching halt for a while. For years, it took me hours each day to get out of bed. I had to navigate disability and illness in young adulthood alone, with those closest to me telling me what a burden I was because I was too sick to work full time and move out. So I forced myself to work multiple jobs even when I was in and out of the ER and constant appointments (like I still am today) when I really should've been resting and taking care of my body. I was in constant burn-out, throwing up in secret at work, because the feeling of shame and being a useless loser being put upon me was so great, I felt like if I didn't "earn" being alive, that I shouldn't be alive at all. I felt completely worthless.

I almost didn’t survive the past 10 years. But I did, and I don’t think any of it made me “stronger." But it did teach me a lot that I'm glad I can use to help others. I'm proud of how far I've come and I like the person I've become. But I don't think suffering in isolation like that or enduring abuse is necessary to make us strong; we should be there for each other, not turning away from another's suffering out of discomfort (that's selective empathy and it kills). This path was like being put through a spiritual meat grinder and it forced me to make a lot of “cuts” to who is allowed access to me. It showed me what my family really thinks of me and which friends were real friends. 4 years ago, on the 6th anniversary of Cleo's death, I brought Ashley and Maxwell home. It was a beautiful way to bring things full circle and that feeling is even stronger now. It's hard to reconcile that 10 years went by because I couldn't see myself living past my 20's in this same sort of situation: at home, disabled, too sick to follow my dreams. I feel like a ghost, or a misplaced collection of memories put into a body and a life that I can't always identify with. Especially after last year, with over a hundred appointments, so many tests, and being monitored for multiple different kinds of cancer while on ketamine therapy... That was a new sort of trauma that has given me a strange mixed sense of numbness and freedom. Somehow I've come back around to a piece of myself that was lost in trying to be "something" or "not a waste/burden" 10 years ago, when this started. Now I can just be. There will always be more that I want to do with myself in this world, dreams that I want to make real, creative ambitions to fulfill. There is so much medical care I need but can't access in this broken country. For me, there will always be depressive or CPTSD relapses to recover from, agonizing chronic illness flare-ups to manage, new medications to try. But ultimately, happiness is simple. It's sitting here on a rainy morning with Maxwell asleep next to me and Ashley running around with her favorite toy. It's taking a nap after editing videos or enduring stressful doctor appointments. It's long baths to help with the pain and playing video games after. The only thing to do is to live. There is no "wasting" when you're having fun, even with these apparent "little things." I'm grateful to Cleo for her love, and for the things I learned losing her as well as losing Opie and Jeremy. I'm grateful to Blue, Ashley, and Maxwell for teaching me again, or maybe for the first time, the simple contentedness of just being alive.

[aerikaye]

sky — my birth experience

hello, everyone! i'll be sharing my journey of becoming a mum and welcoming my little bundle of joy, sky, into this world. let's take a trip down memory lane as i recount the beautiful birth experience and the roller coaster of emotions that followed.

the early signs of labor

it all began at 5:30 am last tuesday when i felt what i thought were typical third-trimester contractions. as the contractions continued and intensified every 20 minutes, i had a strong hunch that labor had begun. it was both exciting and nerve-wracking, knowing that the moment we've been waiting for was finally here. i remember trying to time the contractions and feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety as the realization hit me that my baby's arrival was imminent.

the rush to the clinic

by 1 pm, the contractions were getting more intense and closer together. it was time to head to the clinic. i was filled with a whirlwind of emotions - anticipation, nervousness, and overwhelming love for the little life growing inside me. upon arrival, the medical team quickly assessed me, and to my surprise, i was already 8 cm dilated! admitted immediately, my heart swelled with anticipation and a mix of emotions. the reality that i was about to meet my baby for the first time sank in, and i couldn't wait to hold him in my arms.

the intense labor and sky's arrival

for the next 3 hours, i experienced labor pains like i had never felt before. it was undoubtedly one of the most challenging and painful experiences of my life. the contractions came in waves, and in between each one, i gathered my strength and resolve, thinking of the beautiful little life that was about to grace this world. with every push, i knew i was getting closer to meeting my precious little one. and finally, at 3:32 pm, the world welcomed sky, and i wept tears of joy as his first cry filled the room. how can a cry sound that magical? in that moment, my heart felt full beyond measure.

the first week and its challenge

the first week of motherhood was both rewarding and challenging. recovering from childbirth was tough, and i'm forever grateful to my partner and mommy for being my pillars of support during this time. my body was healing, and i had to take it slow, which wasn't easy for someone as active as i used to be. but their constant care gave me the strength to focus on taking care of myself and baby sky. each day brought new challenges and learning experiences, but seeing sky's bright eyes and feeling his tiny fingers wrapped around mine made it all worth it.

breastfeeding

as a first-time mom, i embarked on the journey of exclusive breastfeeding. kid you not, it was SO painful. no one really prepared me for how intense it could be. but i knew it was crucial for sky's health and bonding. every latch was a mix of pain and joy, as i felt the responsibility of nourishing my little one with my own body. each feeding session was an emotional roller coaster, but knowing that i was providing him with the best possible nutrition kept me going. every day presented a new set of challenges, from sore nipples to latching issues, but seeing my little one thriving made it all worthwhile.

embracing motherhood

i realized how self-doubt and postpartum depression could creep in at any moment. the responsibility of caring for this tiny human was both awe-inspiring and daunting. at times, i would find myself crying in the middle of the night, questioning if i was doing everything right for sky. was i meeting all his needs? was he happy and comfortable? the weight of these thoughts would occasionally feel overwhelming. but thanks to micoh, my partner, who has been a constant source of strength and support, i know i'm not alone in this journey. he's been there to reassure me, share the parenting responsibilities, and remind me that i'm doing a great job as a mom.

despite the challenges, every day brings a sense of contentment and fulfillment. watching sky grow and thrive fills my heart with immense joy. the sleepless nights and moments of self-doubt pale in comparison to the happiness he brings into my life. i can't help but express my gratitude to the lord for blessing me with this incredible gift of motherhood. every milestone, every giggle, and even every tear have become cherished memories that i'll hold close to my heart forever. welcome, sky, to a world filled with love and warmth.

[bpdbaddies-blog]

i’ve never shared my writing before so enjoy.

my pov:

i feel like i’m buried in the depths of hell

you can’t physically see the pain that’s lurking inside

it’s taken a toll on me and all i feel is numb

let me give you a glimpse of my life

i do my best hoping to be enough

longing for acceptance of all that i am

constantly told you talk too much

you feel too deeply

you’re way too much

i either talk too much or not enough

i see everything in black and white, there’s no middle path

i don’t think people love me

they love the versions of me i’ve spun for them

the easy parts of me, the easy parts to love

ive spend my life trying to please others

i tried to be the person they all wanted

i gave up my spirit and begged for acceptance

my very existence depends on your acceptance

i’m at war with my own body, my thoughts tell me to hate myself

i cannot look in the mirror for i fear what my brain will tell me

i don’t know who i am anymore

i stare at myself like someone i’ve never met

i’m trying to shrink myself

trying to become smaller, quieter, less me

i don’t want to be too much for people

i want people to like me

i want to be cared for and valued

i crave touch yet i flinch every time someone is close

i want to be wanted

i don’t want to hurt anymore

i’ve sacrificed myself to make others happy

i forgive over and over again and have never learned to let go

i obsess too much and pick everything apart

“i’m just a tragedy and a pity case to them” says my brain

i always feel inadequate and a burden to others

chronically unsure about life

i constantly feel so unworthy

i feel as though my life isn’t worth living

i constantly seek validation from others because i need to feel worthy

i’ll hurt you before you hurt me

“burn the bridge while they’re still on it” says my brain

i’m paranoid everything is against me

i feel trapped in my own body

i feel like i’m in a cage and it’s so hard to grow

i hate everything i am, i’m rotting inside

memories constantly flooding back

i was ruined from such a young age

they were the start of all my problems

they injected me with self doubt

i met evil when i was only a child

i was only a jester for your entertainment

i learned to be afraid as a child

harsh words stripped me of my freedom

i was just a well trained mutt

i didn’t want to be controlled

i wanted to be a child

but i never got the chance to be one

no one asked me if i was okay

why didn’t anyone help me

i must’ve deserved it all

everyone just watched me drown

i was just a child, you robbed me of my childhood

i’m too young to have these scars

i’m no longer a whole person and i never will be

parts of me died in the house i grew up in

please tell me when i will heal from your pain

i’ll forever crave an apology

but i’ll never forget the way you hurt the child i was

i was given the grab bag of mental illnesses

i wake up everyday trying to be a new person

how can someone feel so much but feel so empty

how can emptiness be so heavy

how have i survived so long when i’m so violently self destructive

you have no idea of the pain that runs through my veins

i feel so unspeakably lonely

i can’t manage all these feelings

sadness feels like suicide

distance feels like abandonment

joy feels weird and unknown

i’ll never feel good enough not even for myself

my mood was good, even great then it fell

up and down up and down like a constant roller coaster

there’s a constant battle of sad empty rage inside

i can constantly hear my heart breaking

my soul is broken in parts i didn’t know could break

i’m lonely in places i didn’t know existed inside me

i have the constant urge to run away

but i have no where to go

i’m just so tired of fighting a never ending war

i feel like i was born with tragedy in my blood

the world has drained me of everything i am

i want to dissolve into nothingness

sometimes i think i would be better off dead

but there might be another way out

but i wouldn’t know because i’ve been buried alive

[thegracioustm]

Chapter: The Eve of the Wedding

Year: 1007 Narnian Years

Trigger warnings: mentions of grief, brief mention of (incest) rape

Please note that the parts concerning the actions and speech of Jacquetta, Meadow, and Rayne have been written with their respective players so they have the control of the actions and words of their characters and portions of this may be featured on their blogs as well.

"I wish my mother were here.”

The thought was constant in Arlise’s mind throughout the week leading up to her wedding. She longed for the comfort and knowledge of her mother, yearned for her soothing comfort and words for the wedding, and the wedding night. But most of all, she needed all the comfort in knowing she would be okay. That the trauma of her father brutally raping her that day, two years ago, had bubbled to the surface of her memories, and cut her nerves to bits. She still hasn’t told a soul what he had done to her ——– how he had broken her. But she knew Edmund ——– she knew he would be nothing but gentle with her.

It wasn’t enough to stop the longing, or the pain.

Her sisters, who she had been reunited with only a week prior, were with her, helping her get ready for the wedding. Jacquetta, brushing her hair softly while Meadow was gentle mounting the veil and crown on a stand, safely out of the way of candles or dust.

Rayne, Peter’s wife, came in just then, carrying the wedding gown and set it gently in the chest at the foot of the bed. Jacquetta, sensing a moment about to happen between Rayne and Arlise, twisted Arlise’s hair into a loose plait, tied it with a ribbon, and ushered Meadow to follow her out of the room.

“Now, I know you must be scared. Aslan knows I was, but I was lucky enough to have my mother by my side. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling without her” Rayne laid a hand gently on Arlise’s arm, giving a gentle squeeze of comfort. “I know my words can never replace the words and comfort of your mother, but I do hope I can bring you some comfort.” Rayne gentle turned Arlise in her seat in front of the looking-glass so she was facing her, and set down a mixture she had had made to place on Arlise’s skin, and began to put it on her.

“You will be woken up early in the morning, and your ladies will take great care to prepare you. You will first have a bath with scented oils, early enough to give your hair time to dry by the fire. You will then be served a small and simple breakfast of bread and ale, and then will be taken to a private mass. Afterwards, you will be dressed and have your hair combed, and will be taken to the cathedral for the wedding ceremony, and once it is completed the wedding feast will be held here at Cair Paravel. Afterwards, you will be taken to your new chambers that you will share with Edmund, and your bed shall be blessed. Your ladies, as well as myself, Susan, and Lucy, will prepare you for the night and see you into your bed. We will then leave the two of you. And you have no reason to be worried that the bedding will hurt ——– with Peter’s guidance, I am sure your night will be just as pleasurable as mine was. Now, you don’t have to do anything besides lie there if you don’t want to. But if you are feeling comfortable, you can do what feels right and natural to your body. It might feel uncomfortable for the first few times, but if the two of you take your time with things beforehand, then it shouldn’t be bad at all. In the morning, one of your ladies will come in to collect your sheets, and then life will continue on as normal.”

As Rayne spoke, she had applied the mixture to Arlise’s face, neck, arms, hands, feet, and legs ——– it would make Arlise’s skin soft and glowing come morning, and would not be disturbed by the bath or oils.

“All of your things will be moved to your new chambers during the wedding and feast, as will Edmund’s. I know it will be hard, but you should try to sleep soon. Tomorrow will be a very eventful day, and I’m sure you will be exhausted. I will see you tomorrow, and I will call your sisters back in, if you wish?”

Arlise gave a small nod ——– she wanted to spend her last free hours with her sisters. She had missed them so much ——– being apart for two years had been torture for them all. They had all been used to sleeping huddled together, for both warmth and protection ——– it was something Arlise had dearly missed, and she had only just gotten that form of comfort back in her life. On the eve of her wedding, she wanted to sleep snugly in between her both of her sisters, and feel the safety and warmth of them ——– and maybe, just maybe, she would feel her mother’s presence with her as well.

With a warm, yet shaky smile, Arlise watched as Rayne left her chambers, before slowly rising from her seat and climbing into her bed, taking a spot right in the middle, and waited for her sisters to arrive.

[kaddyssammlung]

tw.....mental health stuff

I wrote that yesterday and it's still true....so...

Sitting here on my desk and just feeling not so great.....by the time I post this it's probably already the next day. Sometimes I just write things down and then don't post them right away.

I tried running away today from the pain that I feel. But it does not work anymore. I ate way too much. I just feel the pain even more.

I do have constant physical pain in one area of my body. I don't even want to get into details but it's sexual abuse related. It's always there but I don't notice it that much. But things like these also don't seem to work out any longer. The pain is very loud today. I can't fully go there of let myself feel it because it's too much.

I'm internally frozen and sitting here totally numb....I want to do things....but I'm going to drag my a*s outside and take a walk with my doggo. Or go for a run.....

It's sa-memories hell that I've been in for the past few days now

[thorngrassrecords]

Chapter 1: First Encounters

Dreams and memories are like two rivers flowing parallel and near, waters and sediment from both ending up within the other. Often memories are altered to be more like dreams each time you recall them, things slowly being added until it is merely fiction around a small kernel of truth, with dreams often being influenced by memories and life itself. But this, thing, this journal seems to be able to show them in perfect detail, even if not of your life. Although I have a feeling something isn’t quite right, what I am shown does not seem connected to me, and over the 3 years I have had it, our first meeting keeps coming to mind, mainly it using Astora, my last name, as a title with its tone being that of an accusation. I am starting to think that perhaps I am not truly of that line, but of a different, but I do suppose I should introduce myself.

I am Edward Nakar Winter Astora, born and raised in my hometown of Juniper Grove, a quiet small town known for its junipers and gin, and for its concentration of super-natural entities, many of which are rather peaceful. For most of my life, writing has been my passion along with the study of how plants can be used in medicine. My life has been dominated by research into the supernatural beings of the second era, from the great beings of Cykarath, to the lowly ones of Sekna, where they are most concentrated. My town comes in second for how many of these beings exist here, and all of them are fascinating, from the Whistler Dyna to the forest spirits that surround us, they do not mind being studied, but encourage it.

But out of all my 45 years upon this planet, I have never seen something quite like this journal. Most super-naturals seem to not fully belong to this world, with few exceptions, they are always misty when viewed and always seem to be in some kind of pain. The only other supernatural I know of right off the top of my head that is of this world is The Whistler, but he himself has told me what he is, a human warped with body magic.

The journal is different however, being something clearly from this world, but seemingly so old that it knows as much as an author should about a world they are constructing. It talks about the past, shows different memories of past people who walked the earth, even as far back as the dark elves if you can believe that. But I suppose I should talk about what it has shown me instead of just rambling about what it may be.

The journal shows all kinds of memories, but if you wish to recall your own, you must give it access, otherwise all it can do is show you other people’s memories, but that is not all it can do, it can also show dreams, and even let you truly relive events or watch events from those long gone. Over the past three years, I have seen the rise and collapse of the Dark Elf empire, the massive changes in lands, the rise of the different magics, and even the reign of one Nykal White-mane, the Astora of Dominic, a brutal tyrant who seemed to take immense pleasure in harming those weaker than him. The paths it takes between them, a massive tunnel, colors warping past faster than one can perceive, a constant sense of floating coming from your core as your body becomes numb, and your mind more aware of everything around you, how little that is.

While you remain within that realm, you can at a moment's notice change what you are viewing, switching between different things held within it, it’s almost dreamlike. In fact, some of the knowledge shown may be dreams, as there are illogical things shown constantly, this, thing, seems to be drawing you into a dream world where you cannot change anything, not even the smallest things such as a few grains of sand. I wonder if I can change that.

As you exit, the same tunnel happens, and feeling returns rapidly, causing a bit of pain. The aftereffects of traveling into this realm are immense, nausea and weakness with blurred that lasts for around 4-6 weeks, but how much you can learn outweighs the side effects. I mean great knowledge, things that people want to know, want to be able to see. Yet most wouldn’t want to do it because of the effects. Yet someone has to be willing to do it, and I care not for body, only my mind.

[renticat]

I wish but I can't because some people have no luck and yeah some people are just shitty anyway even the person who supposed to love you.

But again what's bare minimum? The standard are so diverse from one person to another

Well for me, bare minimum is like what you need to keep alive, food, clothes, book to write as a child and home without no constant yelling and beating but I guess is already too high and for some it was like the default set up.

This is funny okay I kinda mad because tumblr is not consistent on their font and I really picky on little things but the app is not better either so yeah I SHOULD just keep writing but you know my mind is not that great as it's always been on too much pressure since the beginning.

One one rainy day back then in 2015, I am about to get into my class which I don't remember what lol but I do remember vividly that I am using this white sweater because it's cold but I didn't know that it was gonna rain and I hate it cause it's white and gonna get so much dirt cause ofc it was raining. I cared too much and anxious bout it until my friend realized (well we're not that close but aren't everyone in your class automatically be your friend?)

Saying what happened? Aren't you putting your priority wrong, instead of worrying so much about your sweater you didn't worry about yourself, your body cause you can catch the cold but the sweater is just sweater. Damn, I can't process my thought at that moment cause I was too stunned too speak.

It was because since I was a kid I always raised to be fucking worry about small things, like breaking the glass it could get me so much trouble even when i was just 4yo which is very common but I never really have this kind of thought in my head (to care about myself) but worry about cleanliness bullshit all fucking things that ofc will break one day cause my father just love to be angry at me and calling me stupid and worthless.

Not hiding it anymore but I guess my brain was too fucking broken (and still is but I'm trying to learn better way to approach things and think about another positive point of view) but also it's so hard. It's hard and this friend who point out to me about my crazy worriedness and agitation about my sweater getting dirty instead of me catching the cold kinda open my eyes about the self love itself.aq

It was so fucking strange for people with childhood ptsd like me cause everytime i fell from the bike or my scooter they asked if the scooter is fucking okay and not me, instead they're so angry and saying how could you become so stupid and reckless. See you're truly a destroyer.

And my pain is not coming from why they didn't care about me but overthink about their words like yeah why am i fucking stupid and can't doing fucking things right.

Like this mentality they build up on me, it's cruel and like poison to my body but they wondering why i wanted to check out from this life very soon. I felt so unloved but i didn't have the words for it because i believe i can only got some love when i did sometimes remarkable which also not true because since I was a kid i was like top 3 students on the class (no I actually always be the first) but then they see it as just meh, like it was expected from me cause you don't work and only eat go to school ofc you should have good grade.

Fuck. That's when I remembered now my friend said if I were you my parents would give me anything I asked for. Like gifts. Wow. Like I only get dissatisfaction because they never vocal about love (or maybe they just not proud enough) but ALWAYS LOUD TO POINT OUT MY MISTAKE. the sadder things is they don't treat my sister this way. Because she is younger. Their words when she's only ONE YEAR FUCKING YOUNGER THAN ME. I kid you not. Since I was three ( I already have sharp memory probably because I am an 🐘 lol) I was always just playing with myself as they're busy with my sister and since i got in kindergarten they always saying me to protect her and be a good example when fuck you parents it's your job and she's not even that younger than me.

But I was craving for love and I did that, my best and that's shows from my mark in school also I was very religious even when I was just kid (as kid absorb nonsense quickly also they can't think for themselves just yet) I can read arabic when mostly my peers still struggle and even my sister hate to learn the hijaiyah (the arabic alphabet) and refuse to partake on studying that when I was already so good and can read Quran (cause you know it's step by step learning as they combine every letter and the shape changes) and yeah yada yada yada it's in the past.

I was always too mature for my age and I know I love childish things probably my revenge cause I can't do it those things back then cause I have to be the big sister. Big fucking sister and she even hates me because i guess she think I am being smart pants when if I didn't do that parents hates me for not showing her the fucking right way to life. Fuck.

I iron my uniform bu myself, for some people.is amazing like 4yo know how to do that washing, cleaning up the house, but for me it's just a burden and my sis is never get her hands dirty at all cause it's like only my chores. The resentment building up over years, also my curiosity never stops (thanks for encourage me to read even when I was 4 I was too early to know about rape but I read the newspaper and I understand the world, learning things everyday). It only makes me grow bitter and darker, it robs me joy being a child i told you, this so called truth of life i mean cause child they just read the things they told them to read but I already learn the translation of that (tafseer) and growing so religious to the point i never asked and just believe. Not until I got better in English and read many English books, fiction and non-fiction that now I know philosophy also not everyone is believing the same shit. I mean I aware back then not everyone is believing same things but mostly they're believing the things that handed down to then from their parents. Because if you don't you're the problem and rebel in the family and ofc I don't want that as I still long for love.

But the love is never come and so I got into dark deep shit about ending it all before all my own process thoughts is the one who set me free from all the chains they've been put on me before when I can't even say no cause it's just what everyone does here.

It's the best thing. For them. Not for me

And we can agree to disagree but look at the world rn. They choose war over peace because they cared so much to prove the truth when truth is we should love each everyone the same and trying for the best to help each other and nature so it won't fall apart and more broken day by day.

[alder-thorngrass]

“River of Dream and Memories”

Chapter 1: First Encounters

Dreams and memories are like two rivers flowing parallel and near, waters and sediment from both ending up within the other. Often memories are altered to be more like dreams each time you recall them, things slowly being added until it is merely fiction around a small kernel of truth, with dreams often being influenced by memories and life itself. But this, thing, this journal seems to be able to show them in perfect detail, even if not of your life. Although I have a feeling something isn’t quite right, what I am shown does not seem connected to me, and over the 3 years I have had it, our first meeting keeps coming to mind, mainly it using Astora, my last name, as a title with its tone being that of an accusation. I am starting to think that perhaps I am not truly of that line, but of a different, but I do suppose I should introduce myself.

I am Edward Nakar Winter Astora, born and raised in my hometown of Juniper Grove, a quiet small town known for its junipers and gin, and for its concentration of super-natural entities, many of which are rather peaceful. For most of my life, writing has been my passion along with the study of how plants can be used in medicine. My life has been dominated by research into the supernatural beings of the second era, from the great beings of Cykarath, to the lowly ones of Sekna, where they are most concentrated. My small little comes in second for how many of these beings exist here, and all of them are fascinating, from the Whistler Dyna to the forest spirits that surround us, they do not mind being studied, but encourage it.

But out of all my 45 years upon this planet, I have never seen something quite like this journal. Most super-naturals seem to not fully belong to this world, with few exceptions, they are always misty when viewed and always seem to be in some kind of pain. The only other supernatural I know of right off the top of my head that is of this world is The Whistler, but he himself has told me what he is, a human warped with body magic.

The journal is different however, being something clearly from this world, but seemingly so old that it knows as much as an author should about a world they are constructing. It talks about the past, shows different memories of past people who walked the earth, even as far back as the dark elves if you can believe that. But I suppose I should talk about what it has shown me instead of just rambling about what it may be.

The journal shows all kinds of memories, but if you wish to recall your own, you must give it access, otherwise all it can do is show you other people’s memories, but that is not all it can do, it can also show dreams, and even let you truly relive events or watch events from those long gone. Over the past three years, I have seen the rise and collapse of the Dark Elf empire, the massive changes in lands, the rise of the different magics, and even the reign of one Nykal White-mane, the Astora of Dominic, a brutal tyrant who seemed to take immense pleasure in harming those weaker than him. The paths it takes between them, a massive tunnel, colors warping past faster than one can perceive, a constant sense of floating coming from your core as your body becomes numb, and your mind more aware of everything around you, how little that is.

While you remain within that realm, you can at a moment's notice change what you are viewing, switching between different things held within it, it’s almost dreamlike. In fact, some of the knowledge shown may be dreams, as there are illogical things shown constantly, this, thing, seems to be drawing you into a dream world where you cannot change anything, not even the smallest things such as a few grains of sand. I wonder if I can change that.

As you exit, the same tunnel happens, and feeling returns rapidly, causing a bit of pain. The aftereffects of traveling into this realm are immense, nausea and weakness with blurred that lasts for around 4-6 weeks, but how much you can learn outweighs the side effects. I mean great knowledge, things that people want to know, want to be able to see. Yet most wouldn’t want to do it because of the effects. Yet someone has to be willing to do it, and I care not for body, only my mind.