#i'm physically SICK

[apricusapollo]

sent my best friend a quote from frankenstein and

[weepingseraphstranger]

Please don't use or search the Mouth -washing tag here. I'm literally shaking so badly and my compromised mental state (which was heavily already paranoid for my cats, especially the stray I've been helping) is like... I just saw an alive but gutted cat on the tags. Please please please, there are literally fucking idiots trashing the tags with this type of shit. It's better to go to a discord channel for fandom content. Where stuff like that won't be left up for all to see. I wish people who do and post stuff like that a terrible hellish life with no second of reprieve and no way of escape and the most gruesome end. Y'all deserve worse.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Big fan of when a character's grief/trauma/guilt manifests as physical symptoms. Big fan of characters keeping things so tight inside them that it makes them sick. Big fan of when the line blurs between a character's mental trauma and physical illness until it's hard to tell which is which anymore.

[a-sassy-bench]

do able-bodied people not understand that if disabled people call out of work every time they don't feel good that we would call out of work every fucking day?

like honestly. what do you think being disabled means?

[khickuwa]

Dear God, won't you look at me? Even for a moment, won't you let me pretend you're mine?

[hajihiko]

Sobriety crew gets no mercy from drunk shenanigans

[ex0rin]

TWD: The Ones Who Live | S01E02: Gone

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[agnesandhilda]

reporting live from the scene of drake's murder

[hypokeimena]

i'm clearing out a lot of my old bookshelves because like. my bedroom at my parents' house was not a habitable space when i moved back here, and a big part of that is that a whole wall is bookshelves that have undergone no real pruning since i first got sick. so, in close to 20 years.

anyway do you guys know what it feels like to be down to "as many books as actually fit on the shelves, no double stacking, and with only 2 floor piles still to sort through" (profound relief) followed by the knowledge that there's five full boxes still in the garage...

[reginalusus]

I am thinking about them again.

[usercelestial]

crowley finds absolution through his love and desire for aziraphale, there is no sweeter innocence than their gentle sin, his love for aziraphale is stronger and more faithful than heaven's devotion to god, he worships him, aziraphale is the last true mouthpiece of god, if god speaks, it's through aziraphale. if there was anything truly Holy, it's aziraphale but crowley is a pagan of the good times, he was born sick and aziraphale is the sunlight, he's the giggle at a funeral, he is the closest thing to Heaven crowley will ever get or would ever want to get. in the madness and soil of this earthly desire, within this love and sin, he is clean and human and holy

[buellersfueller]

The unimaginable and indescribable sorrow that results from staying up late enough to run up against the scheduled ao3 maintenance you were supposed to sleep through

[basicallykiyotaka]

Friendly reminder that Touya Todoroki was, in fact, not beaten as a child. Or at the very least there is no evidence to suggest he was. Nor is there anything to suggest Natsuo or Fuyumi were either.

Shoto is completely debatable since we do know the abuse was more physical with him. And only him.

[clueless1995]

god sid, it really is fuckin brutal out here

[jubilantmedusa]

Untitled Zukka Hurt/Comfort Ficlet #1 (because practicing drawing means I need to write little mini fics I guess...)

“You’re sick.” Sokka’s voice was as calm as the surface of water on a still night. Not a hint of accusation or contempt. No softness, no sting. Only observation. Reflection.

Zuko took a breath, deep to sooth his limbs that were threatening to shake. “I’m fine.”

Sokka frowned, and Zuko felt a knot form instantly in his stomach. His shivered, vision swimming as he saw the flash of another frown, superimposed. A different frown. Harsh. Sharp.

Sokka’s movements were calm. Fluid. Gentle as he raised his hand to Zuko’s forehead and pressed with just the right amount of pressure. “You have a fever.” Zuko felt his heartbeat pick up as Sokka’s lip began to curl, but as his expression settled Zuko realized that Sokka wasn’t angry, just concerned.

Zuko breathed deeply, pinning his arms to his sides before the other boy could notice that he was shaking now. Only, he must not have been fast enough because Sokka dropped his hand from Zuko’s forehead to grab Zuko’s trembling fingers. 

“Your hands are freezing.” Sokka hand tightened around Zuko’s as he pulled it upwards, pressing it against his mouth. Zuko couldn’t stop his hands from shaking even harder as Sokka’s breath warmed his skin.

—

“I can do that.” Zuko reached to grab his sleeping bag. “I’m fine.” Sokka lifted it over his head like they were kids playing keep away. Zuko huffed, crossing his arms, but let Sokka keep it.

“You’re not fine.” Sokka spread of the blanket. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

“Ugg.” Sokka paused. He looked up, holding  Zuko’s gaze until Zuko finally drawled, two days? maybe three.”

“Three days?!” Zuko felt his pulse quickening again, his shoulders bracing. “Why didn’t you say anything!” Even though Sokka’s voice voice was high he didn’t sound angry. In fact… Sokka’s eyebrows were scrunched, lips pressed thin. “You were training Aang this morning. Zuko, you shouldn’t be bending like that if you’re sick “ Sokka was worried.

“I’m fine.” How many times had Zuko said that now? “It’s just a fever. It’ll go away.”

“I mean, sure it will, if you rest. Can you, uh…” He gestured towards the sleeping bag, laid out and waiting.

“Oh.” It felt awkward to lower himself down when his legs felt so much like jelly, Zuko was sure it wasn’t graceful. But Sokka didn’t say anything, just stood there, eyebrow raised. Waiting. Zuko realized, then, that he was supposed to lay all the way down. So he did, somehow feeling boneless now that he wasn’t holding himself up. 

He blinked as Sokka settled a blanket over to his shoulders. It took Zuko and absurd number of seconds to realize that it was a blue blanket, one of Sokka’s own. Woven. Thick. Soft.

“Comfortable?” Sokka asked. When Zuko met his eyes he smiled.

It was nice, seeing Sokka smile. Zuko wanted to smile back, but he… there was a quivering in his stomach. Not sickness, just… waiting. “I’m fine,” Zukp said. When Sokka raised an eyebrow, he added, “I… feel fine.”

“I doubt that,” Sokka said.

“I do,” Zuko insisted. Yes, his body felt suddenly heavy. And his skin buzzed strange sensitivity that made event he gentlest touch feel like a scratch. But he was lying on his side, on something soft, and he was warm. “I… thank you.”

Sokka shrugged. “I didn’t do much,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”

Zuko thought for a moment. “Water?” He croaked.

“Coming right up, bud.”

Zuko let his eyes close for a moment, just listening to the sound of Sokka’s footsteps as he went back to the packs, the rustling of fabric as he was digging through something. Then there was a feeling, something hard brushing his fingers. Zuko opened his eyes to see a small, green glass. “A Ba Sing Se souvenir cup?”

“It was on sale,” Sokka said, chuckling. “Drink it. It’s medicine.”

“For what?” Zuko asked.

“The fever?” Sokka reminded him. “Do they… umm… not treat fevers in the Fire Nation or something?”

“Of course they do.” Zuko propped himself up just enough to tip the bitter liquid into his mouth before settling down again.

More sounds of shuffling as Sokka lowered himself, and then Zuko felt weight on his back as Sokka pressed into him, a hand settling itself onto his arm. Sokka’s touch was firm, but quiet. Soft. Sweet. “But not yours?” Sokka sounded sad.

Zuko swallowed. He remembered that feeling, tossing and turning as his skin crawled and his stomach churned. Waking up with a sweat drenched face but father still expected Zuko to do his katas. Run through his katas, go to school, sit up straight. There was punishment for slouching, even if he only slouched because he was shivering so hard he couldn’t mind his posture. “We were being trained to rule, Azula and I. Countries don’t stop because you have a cold.”

Sokka didn’t say anything, just started rubbing his arm. 

“You can rest now,” Sokka said after a while. “I can take care of you.”

Take care of him? Zuko tried to remember the last time someone had taken care of him. His Uncle had tried, of course, but Zuko had always pushed him away. He couldn’t let himself be seen that way - weak, sick. So he ignored the quiver in his Uncle’s voice when Iroh spoke to him from the other side of a metal door. And before that… before that his mother would, when father would let her. When Zuko was so sick that she’d block his bed with her body to keep father away, even if it cost her. Then sit with him and fuss his hair back with slender fingers.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Sokka said.

Zuko took a deep breath in. Not a sigh, just a breath, one to fill him up. He could feel his heart starting to race again, but... nicer this time, with Sokka so warm and solid against his back. He let the breath out. Slow. Controlled. Eyes still closed, he whispered, “Okay.”