#inspired by my own experiences with chronic fatigue

[gelatinous-globster]

I was thinking about a headcanon I mentioned in this post about Globby relearning how to write and this comic grew from that. I've been working on this one for a few months, and decided it was time to share—Tumblr nerfed this, so please click for quality!

@drama-glob @enbydemirainbowbigfoot

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

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Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

[tavyliasin]

Disability Pride Month and BG3!

It’s Disability Pride Month! And you know what that means, right? No? Well it has been ages and I’ve long been casually planning a series of short (maybe) essays around the parallels to disability - and the clearer disability representation - throughout Baldur’s Gate 3 in both the characters and the story. So what better month than this to finally work on them and bring them out?

Whilst I do have some personal lived experience with disability, this doesn’t account for every type of condition or all the ways that different disabilities affect so many of us. Two people with the same condition can have quite a different lived experience, and even the condition itself can vary significantly. So what I mean to say here, loves, is that if you have a differing opinion, or there’s something I’ve missed, or you’d just like to add your thoughts - please do just that! 

I welcome hearing from all of you about how you relate to the game through your own lived experiences, and what the characters can mean to you. Representation isn’t always clear, but honestly I think when we look closer we can see parts of all kinds of experiences reflected through the characters and story. So, what I intend to do is create a series of essays, looking in depth at the potential parallels we can see in each of the main companions that I’m most familiar with (unfortunately I don’t know Minthara well enough to include her in this, but I would welcome input from others!) and then perhaps some of the other characters. These pieces are not meant to be diagnostic in any way, or claiming “this character has this illness”, but instead is a look at how the characters and their stories and details can be similar to real world disability and health, and how different people might find ways to relate to their experiences through this. Links will be edited in here as the essays are completed!

Planned Disability Discussion Posts

Karlach - Terminal Illness (Completed) Wyll - Sudden Physical Change (Traumatic Incident) (Completed) Gale - Chronic Illness, Autism (Completed) Astarion - Complex Needs, Specialised Diets, and Addiction (Completed) Lae’zel - Ableism, Eugenics, and More Neurodiversity (Completed) Shadowheart - Memory Difficulties, Depression, Fluctuating Chronic Pain (Completed) Halsin - Carer Fatigue and The End Of The Path Of Healing (Completed)

--- I'm not sure how quickly I'll get through posting these as I'm having a tough time with my own physical health right now - isn't that ironic? - but I do intend to get through at least this list by the end of July in between fic writing and other projects.

If you would like to suggest other characters, storylines, or disability related topics in BG3 please let me know! I'd love to hear how you all relate to the game and the characters from these angles too, and I might be willing to add things to this list if I can.

Lia's Disability Experience

As a little peek behind the curtain (and for full disclosure that I'm not an abled person here to talk over disabled experiences) without giving you too much of myself on the single plate, my lived experience is with an unpredictable chronic pain condition as well as a few other chronic illnesses and disability issues. I'm a wheelchair user, partially ambulatory (essentially I can shamble around in my home with assistance but outside the house I rely on my wheels), and my most prevalent symptom is constant pain. I have made vague references to these things in a few works and the experience does provide me with some fic inspiration for a couple of works. I'm far too familiar with Loviatar's embrace, but I feel this is something that can be used to my advantage at times like these where I can examine the characters and storylines from angles that abled people might not consider.

Your Input!

I really would love to hear from all of you - what other characters do you feel reflect some of the lived experiences of disabled people? Are there any that you connected to? Did you find the game was accessible for you to play as a disabled person? What do you wish you saw more of in the game or in games in general? This month really is an important one for awareness and understanding, as well as finding things in ourselves to be proud of that don't fall into the categories of "inspiration porn" or the kinds of internalised ableism that can drive some of us to push too hard to work against our conditions instead of with and around them leading to more issues.

Remember - The Disabled Community is the one minority that anyone could become a part of at any time. Advocating for our rights could also be advocating for your own future or that of a loved one.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 3: The Lucky Day

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of an eating disorder and depression, please read with caution as topics may be triggering.

a/n: Alexa, play Daddy's Home <3 Anywho, OC's spiralling summer was inspired by Bella's montage of passing seasons in Twilight ... I'm sorry, but I need to preface that OC will be going through it this whole season, I have already cried thrice. Also, a side question, can you guys actually play the songs I post for these chapters? Meaning, does Tumblr let yall do that or am I trippin? Because I truly think they add a lot to the overall experience. If not, please let me know, then maybe I'll just turn them into a Spotify playlist.

Sleep has become my escape. A temporary withdrawal from reality in which I live to remember everything Jungkook has forgotten. Sleeping through each passing day, I know that at least in my dreams we are still together. In my dreams, I will always find my way back to you, Koo. Even if you don’t remember it, the moon knows that we were once in love. It hears my helpless cries at night and feels every atom of my being that misses you, fearing the idea of us becoming strangers once again. 

It’s as if my happiness was erased with his departure. Holding my hand through each step of the way, he showed me the beauty in life and ended up being the one to take it all away when my fearing heart failed to reciprocate the painfully obvious love tethered between us. Now, my life is dull and pointless. How can I love someone else when every night I dream of you, Koo?

Swallowing pills to mute the sound of my heart beating for his barest touch, I’ve become lost in my own mind, haunted by everlasting thoughts. Although I thought I would be able to at least pretend to be happy for the sake of my family, it’s all become too much. Thus, it was only a matter of days, before my deteriorating behaviour sparked concern in my parents, fueling tension in the air we shared. It all started with fatigue, which then transformed into chronic sleep and in the end began to affect my eating habits. Feeling nauseous from the mere thought of food, I’ve grown to dissociate myself from it. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat. And, as my hope slowly diminished, so did the number on the scale. 

“Mira, you have to eat,” my mom’s voice echoes in my ear as my eyes fixate on the plate of steamed broccoli in front of me. 

“I’m not hungry, I told you,” I sigh, swallowing down the lie with some water. 

“Mira, honey, please talk to us. What’s wrong?” my dad asks softly, placing his hand on top of mine. Hearing the trembles in his words, my eyes swell with tears before I shake myself out of it.

“I’m fine … just feeling a bit under the weather,”

“The sun has been at its highest peak this whole time, what’s seasonal about this?” my mom tries to remain composed as she shifts her chair closer to mine. 

“Talk to me, honey. What’s gotten into you? You were so excited to come back,” her hands caress my tangled hair as I nibble on the dead skin on my lip. 

“Mira, you’ve been silent since you came, and now you won’t even eat. Your mom and I can’t bear to see you like this,” 

“Come back home, Miraya. We can find another university here,”

“No. It’s not that. I’m fine, I swear. I just … I just need this break to end already, so I can focus on my studies again. That’ll keep my mind occupied,” I whisper softly, attempting to fake a smile as my empty gaze searches their scattering eyes. Recently, that's how most of our conversations ended. With helpless promises feeding my delusions. However, with each passing day, I come to realise that promises are nothing more than sweet lies. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have to find excuses for the aching feeling in my heart, but rather, melt in the overflowing passion of Jungkook’s burning love. 

Excusing myself, I throw away the cold plate of food and head back to my room, one which was once filled with laughter and a carefree sense of ambition. The same walls that watched me cry out of happiness upon receiving my acceptance letter just a few months ago are the ones that now echo my pathetic cries for help. Every inch of this room has become cold and numb, and I’m afraid that there is no more warmth in me that could fix this. 

Crouched in a fetal position as my body shivers under the floral duvet my mom gifted me as a welcome present, I dial Jimin’s phone number. It has been weeks since he moved back to Busan, but I have yet to receive any updates from him about Jungkook. In hindsight, maybe, it’s for the best, but if silence is the thing that'll save me then why do I still hold onto the smallest glimpse of hope for us? Even if it means walking across a minefield of rejected possibilities that would ultimately send me into a never-ending spiral, why do I still care?

“How is he?” I ask with hesitation. 

“Different. He’s different.” Jimin replies softly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, he seems distant. Which is fair, I guess. But, he doesn’t quite seem to remember me,” 

“At all?” my voice shakes as I choke up. 

“Well no, he is still able to recover our memories from when we were kids, but recent events are very blurry,” Jimin goes on. 

I, was recent to Jungkook. We, were recent to him. Four months, that's how long I've known Koo, but I’ve been missing him for the last seven. Each day I daydream, reminiscing our memories, feeling the void in my heart knowing that I’ve been without him longer than I’ve been with him. Maybe, Mrs. Jeon was right. I would be lying if I said that a little part of me didn’t think that the reason for her ultimatum was purely based on a simple dislike of me. You know? Like, she didn’t see me as a good match for her son? Because, even then, her disapproval of my character would have been an easier pill to swallow than knowing that now, in Koo’s empty eyes, I’m no longer his Peaches, but a stranger. God, it hurts to even say it out loud let alone accept it. I can’t accept it, but I have to now, don’t I?

“Please take care of him for me Jiminah,” I manage to let out, wiping the tears rolling down my face. 

“I will Mira, don’t worry. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“See you,” I end the call, throwing my phone across the bed, my puffy eyes irritated by the brightness. 

That night was especially hard. Although my body was desperately wanting to succumb to the exhaustion, my mind wouldn't shut up. It kept replaying our memories, reminding me of the things I should have said. The words Koo never heard, but deserved to.

--

Hugging my mom, her trembling hands tighten their hold on my sweater as I take in the smell of her perfume for the last time. I missed her a lot, and the guilt of putting my parents through that torture has been eating me alive this whole summer. All they wanted was to see their daughter smile and I failed to fulfill even the simplest of their wishes. If only they knew how much I wanted to smile again. 

“Mira, I’m telling you again, we can find another university here,” my mom says with teary eyes. 

“Just say yes, and we’ll deal with all the transfer stuff, honey,” my dad joins, caressing my palms, as I let out a soft chuckle before shaking my head no. 

“That’s not fair. You guys didn’t raise a quitter,” I manage to let out, feeling my throat tighten from the build-up of emotions. 

“You’re right, we didn’t. But, even the strongest soldier needs a shoulder to cry on. Remember that we are and always will be by your side, Miraya,”

“Call us as soon as you land, love,” 

Passing through the airport security, I wave to my family my last goodbyes before heading to my gate. Am I excited to come back to Seoul? I don’t really have a choice, do I? That God-awful Nursing degree won’t finish itself, so yeah, I kind of have to go back. But, I know that school isn’t the only thing pulling me back. I know I can’t, but I still wish to see Jungkook, even from afar, it doesn’t matter. All I want now is to know that he is doing well.  

I’m not sure how, but as soon as my head rested against the seat my body shut down, falling into a much-needed sleep. I probably would have slept through the whole 12-hour flight if it weren’t for the bright beams of sunlight penetrating through my heavy eyelids. Taking a glimpse out the airplane window, I no longer saw snowy mountains but rather blossoming fields of greenery scattered within the busy cities of Korea. And, as the captain went through his ending speech, a flood of international students lined up near the exit, eager to get back into their previously established routine. It’s funny because I was sitting next to one of my cohort members from last semester, but we were both too tired to even realise. 

Nonetheless, putting my passport and ticket back into my carry on, I rolled my luggage down the escalator before a familiar voice called out my name. Searching the crowd of strangers filled with overwhelmed emotions, my eyes stop at a particular boxy smile. 

“Long time no see, Flip-flops!” Tae shouted across the hall, before waving me down to where he was standing with Jiah and Jimin who were just as excited about my arrival. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, I couldn’t help but laugh at his cute, little dance as he pulled me into a warm hug. 

“Tae, I’m certain you just don’t know my actual name,” I say with a grin, looking up at his sparkling eyes. 

“Of course, I do MJ,” he grins, rubbing the top of my head. Ha ha ha, isn’t he just a comedian? For context, my government name is Mira Jean … hence, the birth of MJ. 

“That’s enough, let us hug her too,” Jiah chuckles, opening her arms as my body virtually melts into her embrace. With tears rolling down our faces, her grip tightens around my form as she lets out a sudden gasp. 

“Mira! My goodness, why are you so small?” she asks with a concerned tone, her wide eyes scanning my body. Although, I always managed to maintain my normal weight, I guess, not eating properly for 3 months left its mark on the way I looked. As the numbers on the scale decreased, I became more and more fixated on the protrusion of my bones. I hated the feeling, but, I also couldn’t stop. Because I couldn’t get myself to eat, I relied on baggy clothes to create an illusion that would satisfy people’s perception of me. Unfortunately, I failed to fool Jiah as she saw right through the act. 

“I just stopped eating so much junk food, I’m fine. Trust me, this is a good thing Jiah, now I can finally fit into my favourite pair of jeans,” I try to laugh the pain away, caressing her hands as her furrowed eyebrows slowly release their tension. She isn’t convinced but also, doesn’t want to create a scene in public. I know that follow-up questions will be brought up along the way, but for now, my attention is focused on looking for someone who I know isn’t there. It’s silly, but before spotting Tae, a little part of me hoped to see Jungkook. To witness his sparkling doe eyes and bunny teeth, once again, like the good old times.  

“Okay, it’s settled, we are all going to my favourite Korean BBQ place,” Jimin exclaims, giving me a quick wink before grabbing both of the luggage out of my hands, and handing one to Tae. And, as Jiah intertwines her hands with mine, we exchange soft smiles exiting the airport as my skin finally feels the fresh, humid air of Seoul. Stopping mid-walk, I let out a deep sigh of relief. I hated every second of my summer, it was nothing short of pure torture but, at least, it too passed. 

“You’re good?” Tae whispers, softened gaze focused on my flushed cheeks. 

“Yeah,” I say softly, taking another deep breath as his arm caresses my shoulder. 

“He’s fine, Mira,” his words pierce through my ears as I unconsciously shoot him an alarming look. 

“You’ve heard from him?” I rush my words, anticipating his answer as my chest heaves up. 

“No, but I can feel your pain,” his tone is quieter now, eyes still searching mine. 

“I’m fine, Tae,” I mumble under my breath, lowering my head in fear of breaking down in front of them. 

“Just know that I’m always here for you, okay?” he says, pressing a soft kiss on my head before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. If only he could hear the way I’m screaming inside. The way I’m calling out for help. For someone to find hope in my hopeless state of mind. If only he knew how much I miss Jungkook. 

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Following the tradition, I will be hosting my annual house party before school beats all of our asses,” Jimin chuckles, caressing Jiah’s hand as their eyes focus on each other. Forcing down some dumpling soup into my system, I feel nauseous, but can’t risk growing Jiah's suspicion more, so I attempt to eat as little as possible without her noticing. 

“So, Mira, please come. Jungkook will be there as well,” Jimin continues with a soft smile which slowly fades upon noticing my gaze drop. Letting go of my spoon, my fingernails dig into my cold palms, as I’m back at square one. How am I supposed to face him when I can’t even handle the mere mention of his name? It’s not fair. None of them know about Mrs. Jeon’s ultimatum, and I fear that I can’t just simply tell them. So, I gulp down the pain and manage to put on another act, one that I seem to have mastered over the summer. 

“Mira, you’re okay?” Jiah asks, gently rubbing my forearm. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit jet-lagged. Sure, of course, I’ll come,” I reply with a reassuring smile, before looking at Tae. I recognize the sadness in his eyes because I see it in my own every passing minute. But, I can’t let him in. I can’t betray Mrs. Jeon’s trust, again. Even if it means that I have to betray my own heart.

--

We’ve been walking around the mall for probably 3 hours now and Jiah has yet to find something with that wow factor, meanwhile, I have already found 4 of the nearest exits. The party is set for tonight, and although I have already agreed to come, I can’t get myself to actually face the consequences. I can’t go, what was I thinking. What? Did I think everything was going to be fine once Jungkook saw me? Mira, he doesn’t remember you. 

“Jiah, you know, I really don’t think I should go tonight?” I say, slowly walking in circles as she eyes another mini dress. 

“What? Why?” she stutters, going through racks of possible options. 

“I’m just not feeling well,” I lie, fiddling with my fingers to calm down the nerves. 

“Mira, is something wrong?” Jiah stops what she’s doing before walking closer to my anxious self. 

“I’m fine, really,” I lie again. 

“You don’t look fine. You barely eat, barely sleep, barely talk to me,” she exclaims with a  tone firmer than before. 

“Then stop looking. Please, can everyone just leave me alone? I’m just tired, okay?” I burst, feeling everyone’s eyes on my distressed self. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. What do you need?” she says gently, reaching out her hands.  

“I just need space,” I whisper, crossing my arms in front of my burning chest. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some space. Please call me when you’re ready,” Jiah’s words cut deep as she walked out of the store, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The ones I’ve been trying to run away from this whole time. I can’t even get mad at her. She is only trying to help, but how can she when I keep shutting everyone out? It’s all my fault, I know. I just hope that this isn’t how it ends. I hope I don’t push everyone away, and someone sees right through the mask I put on. Because I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do or who to talk to.

Locking the door behind me I plop onto my bed before finally resting my heavy eyes. And, within minutes, I’m passed out again. I think, I've grown to become eternally tired, no matter how much I sleep, there is just no end to this fatigue. Moving restlessly, I pull the white cover over my shivering body before hearing my phone ring. 

“Ugh, what is it now?” I grunt, squinting from the screen brightness as a small gasp escapes my parted lips. It was 8 pm already. How is that possible? I swear, I just laid my head. But, no, apparently I’ve been asleep for the last 5 hours. 

“Hello?” I manage to let out. 

“Flip-flops? Where are you?” Tae screams through the loud music in the background. 

“Tae, I’m home. What happened?” 

“Mira hurry, Jiah is drunk. You need to come pick her up,” he exclaims with panic in his voice. 

“What? Where’s Jimin? Can he not drive her?” I stutter, lifting myself off of the bed before putting my hoodie back on. 

“You want him to drive under the influence? Of course, he is drunk too,” 

“Well, why can’t you drive them?” I whine, almost pleading. 

“Who said I wasn’t drunk either?” he chuckles, sending me a flying kiss through the phone. 

“Fine, I’ll be there in a bit. Keep an eye on Jiah,” I sigh before grabbing my keys and ID. 

Thankfully, Jimin’s place wasn’t that far from our dormitory so, the ride there was only 10-ish minutes. Nonetheless, I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. And, as the driver finally pulled up to the apartment complex I practically ran inside. Following the sound of loud music, I made my way through the crowd of people who clearly had a little too much fun, as the alcohol in their system could be detected from the next block. 

“Flip-flops!” Tae exclaimed with a big grin. Stopping in my tracks, my eyes diverted to Jiah, who was standing beside him with absolutely no sign of a hangover. In fact, she looked better than ever in her new mini-dress. 

“What? You lied?” I snap, eyebrows furrowing more and more with each step I take towards them. 

“How else was I supposed to get you to come?” Tae chuckles, trying to rub my head before I push his hand away. 

“Get off me,” my tone is harsh as I lower my piercing gaze, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Oh! Mira, there you are,” I could hear Jimin’s voice getting closer before turning my flushed face. And with that, it felt like time stopped altogether. There was nothing and no one in the room except for him and I. Koo and I. Feeling my gaze soften, I choke up from the rush of emotions in my throat. 

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a warm smile, reaching out his hand as if meeting me for the first time. Before replying, I take a moment to analyze his face. The one I dreamed about every night and the one that caused me so much pain. He looks the same, except, his eyes no longer sparkle like they used to. I guess, we got that in common. 

“Hi …I’m Mira,” I let out a soft smile, before reaching out my own hand. 

“Yah, Kook, you already know her, you guys were best friends,” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive me. I'm still trying to piece everything back together,” Koo says, covering his mouth before shutting his eyes from embarrassment. 

Feeling my throat tighten, I quickly excuse myself, before rushing out of the packed room towards the nearest fire escape. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but why does it feel like I’m going to pass out? It’s as if all the air was knocked out of my lungs. Feeling lightheaded I hold onto the railing and close my eyes for a moment. I can’t believe it. Koo, I saw you but you didn’t see me. You saw a stranger. And, suddenly, there I was, alone again, realizing that everything I feared had come true.

Regaining my composure, I decide to walk back to the party before my eyes are met with his. 

“Not a party animal, huh?” Jungkook grins, stopping in his tracks as his arm leans against the wall. 

“It’s my day off,” I let out a small chuckle, unable to keep his eye contact. 

“So … we were best friends?” he asks softly, hands fidgeting with the chains on his belt. 

“Yeah …” I nod slightly, nibbling on my lips. 

“It’s funny because I don’t remember anything from last year. I could barely recognize my own dad for a while. Jimin helped me a lot, he basically recalled sparknotes of my past for me,” he laughs. Oh, how I missed his laugh.  

“You really don’t remember anything?” I finally look up, searching his scattering eyes. 

“No, not one bit,” his muffled words are interrupted by the growling sound coming from my stomach, as I let out an awkward smile. 

“Oh, are you hungry?” he grins, bunny teeth on full display, as my gaze softens again. 

“No, no, no, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna head home now,” I shake my hands, zipping my hoodie before attempting to walk past him. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll drive. I’m starving as well,” Jungkook assures, gently pulling onto the fabric as my heart sinks to my feet.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I agreed. I couldn’t say no to Koo. Not, after all the sleepless nights I’ve spent missing his mere presence. And, as we entered the nearest restaurant, everything felt real. He felt real. Even if he couldn’t feel it, my heart was beating for the both of us. For our first hellos, last goodbyes and everything in between. Just for tonight, I wanted to pretend like nothing happened. 

“Oh, look, Mira, they have a special deal on shrimp dumplings, do you like them?” his voice, brings me back to reality as I mute the thoughts running through my head. 

“Yeah, my mom made them for me all the time when I was little,” I smile. 

“Then, I guess it’s your lucky day,” he chuckles with a satisfied grin, before calling one of the waiters. 

“I guess, it is,” I say softly, feeling my throat tighten as I struggle to swallow the lie. Searching his naive eyes my own swell with tears while my body shifts restlessly in the seat. Desperately wanting to cave into the emotions, my mind is haunted by the thoughts of Mrs. Jeon’s letter. And, as I close my eyes for a moment, all I can see are the painful reminders of our enforced distance. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. Yet, here we are, here you are, Koo. Live in the flesh, separated by a table and the forgotten story of our past. So close, yet so far that it physically hurts. To him, I’m just another piece of the puzzle that would fill the void in his memories. But, to me, he is the only piece that could make me whole again. 

Previous l Index l Next

[ardenrabbit]

Hello!

A Long and Slow Recovery - are we past the halfway point? I am so excited to see how everything turns out. Did you do a lot of research to delve into Xie Lian’s experience with recovery? It’s very well written with regard to his mental and emotional struggles. Also , I just love how you write Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s interactions.

Those Worthy of Following( new name change!) - I gushed about it in your comment section but need to emphasize how much I love that opening chapter with the dual between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian. And this dynamic, of Hua Cheng being the prince, and Xie Lian being the bodyguard, is A+++. Xie Lian is so calm and kind and powerful. He was so fierce about Hua Cheng not talking down about himself. Like,yes gege, please show your Hua Cheng how precious he is, haha. I ❤️ reading Xie Lian showing his protectiveness of Hua Cheng, even from the man himself. I’m also keen to see how Feng Xin and Mu Qing will take to Xie Lian in this verse too.

Is there anything else you can share about it that’s not spoilers? If not, that’s fine too!

Your writing is just delicious - a pleasure, something to savor and come back to again and again.

Thank you!

Omg thank you so much 💕😭💕 Your comments are always such a delight!! It's so validating and encouraging and I hope you know that!!

We are indeed past the halfway point in alasr! I honestly just kind of know what happens in a big blob with like half a dozen bullet points, so I don't have a final chapter count ready, but Chapter 20 is basically the start of the second half of the story. I originally thought the fic was gonna end at just about the New Year celebration, but it turns out his recovery is taking a lot longer than that, and his recovery isn't even the only one we're dealing with now, so I got ambitious. The premise also uh deserves a little more closure and resolution than that lol, so Arc 2 is gonna be a little higher stakes than we've had so far.

I'm so glad you're enjoying how I'm writing Xie Lian and his recovery! Haha I did research a variety of other conditions and disabilities and read accounts from people who have them, because that's just good research. Honestly, though, inspiration for the vast majority of Xie Lian's mental/emotional struggles have been sourced from firsthand experience :)

I'm mentally and physically disabled and have been my whole life, and I wasn't even diagnosed with anything (I was somehow just diagnosed with Teenager) until I hit rock bottom about it in adulthood. I've gotten to a better place with the mental stuff, but even though it's no longer an active threat to me, my bad days can still leave me nonverbal, disconnected from reality, and sometimes catatonic. The physical stuff has been getting worse over the years, and even though I can still walk independently with a cane when I leave the house (as long as I rest a lot), I still fall down just walking in my own home. I keep having to remember that my chronic pain and fatigue isn't normal, and I keep getting evidence that I'm worse than I thought. I've had to reorganize my life around all of it and I'm uh. Not taking it well lately lol.

So alasr is my self-therapy project. Xie Lian is going to get better and I'm not, and that still kind of pisses me off lol, but it's nice to vent and see someone else get a happy ending. So...yeah, at least writing alasr has helped distract me from my own pity party, and Xie Lian's anger, despair, guilt, and forced optimism are cathartic for me. It's not just about me, though; obviously I'm trying to stay in character for him and write in the context of his specific circumstances. But I guess I relate to sick fic stuff lol

Fully aware that that was a lot of oversharing 💜

But ANYWAY, AS FOR ✨ THOSE WORTHY OF FOLLOWING ✨ I'm so glad you're liking that one so far too!! I craaaaave protective badass Xie Lian and I needed a different brand of angst and drama from alasr for a while lol. I love writing violence tbh. I don't wanna spoil too much, but I definitely wanna confirm this:

TWOF is NOT a post-canon reincarnation fic. I'm personally not up for writing that kind of loss of all their canon experiences. And there are probably some really well-written takes on it! It's just not personally my speed. 😅 This one might seem like a post-canon reincarnation fic in the first couple chapters, but it'll make more sense soon.

It IS angst with a HAPPY ending, I promise!! What I'm planning right now gets really rather sad and it might seem hopeless at some point, but I promise, I'm confident in my plan to make it genuinely happy and fulfilling!

I'm exploring a trope about which I've had some general hangups, but I honestly enjoy taking tropes and tweaking them to my preferences. I think a lot of people can already guess what trope I'm talking about, which is fine with me! If it means the buildup and foreshadowing are working, I'm happy it fits!

What I'm panicking about with this wip is that I've convinced myself that I need to earn a doctorate in Tang Dynasty battle and siege tactics to write it credibly lmao. I spent three hours the other night researching ancient Chinese fire starters and the differences between Han and Tang era tea preparation (to little avail). This one is gonna take a lot of research for my own peace of mind but I hope it pays off!

Mu Qing and Feng Xin are gonna be okay!! Someone commented on ch2 that they liked that Mu Qing got hurt because they hate him and I'm like...I didn't think I'd framed that as a good thing..... 😅 That was something a Bad Guy did.......... 😅😅😅

Thank you so much for your kind comments and all of the fun engagement!! I'm truly so honored that you've enjoyed my writing so far! 💖💖💖

[heartshapedgreen]

heartshapedgreen | writerblr ; 21+ writings list | tags directory

i go by the (pen)name bijou mid-20s ; he/him

i'm an erotic romance writer who takes inspiration from mine & other people's subjective experiences. my writings tend to be more of character studies since they're informed by my bouts of sex-repulsion and traumatization. i enjoy narratives delving into the personhood of a character, focusing on the complexities of identity and desire, and how they interact with other individuals, particularly during moments of intimacy.

i'm also intersex & mad/disabled so, living outside what's defined as 'human', i dissect what that means in my writings. the themes of my stories are mainly around acceptance of the self, self-recognition through the other and that to be loved is to be changed. my writings include body horror, transformation/corruption/destruction, being haunted, infections/illness, monsters & robots.

as i mainly write gender variant/disabled/racialized characters, they come with their painful history. i deconstruct the power dynamics that shape their past in my stories, and because of that, i try not to take for granted depictions of eroticized power & subjugation.

goals

find other similar writers, writing buddies & beta readers!

write more consistently (hello, executive dysfunction and chronic fatigue)

self-publish... someday in the future

disclaimer!

my blog & my writings are intended for adults ages 21 and up. though i can't really stop anyone from going out of their way to view the contents of either, i'll be blocking indiscriminately if you don't have your age somewhere on your blog. i would advice anyone young to refrain from interacting with me or my writings, and to get off nsfw pages for your own well-being and safety.

last updated 4 apr, 2024

[ruinaimagines]

Welcome back!! Fellow spoonie here, and I Know how it feels to lose steam due to chronic pain and fatigue (*gestures to the multiple art projects that have been left as works-in-progress for months thanks to unforgiving joint pain*). I'm slowly getting my energy back and I hope you feel better too!

For a warm-up, how about some headcanons for Punishing Bird befriending an employee? It's so friend-shaped when it's not trying to eat your agents and the thought of someone having a tiny murder tit sleeping on their shoulder as they work is too funny and adorable

Hello once more! Eheh a bit delayed but here it is at last. Limbus Company’s release has really injected me with inspiration so I’m hoping to release this alongside multiple others. Thank you for the well wishes and understanding cause man, medical problems are wacky, and hope you’re doing just as well!

Punishing Bird Befriending an Employee Headcanons:

Okay so befriending this bird is a wild experience. Perhaps it has taken a very special liking to you- whether a new or old employee it sees a sense of justice within you leading to it to act the way it does.

Often whenever it breaches and ventures throughout the facility it doesn’t really take breaks outside of being a nuisance and smacking its small beak against someone’s cranium.

No one really does anything or interacts with the bird, everyone’s too freaked out about it snapping open its jaws and eating them. A reasonable fear, but a passed up opportunity you seized.

It’s a bird.. So why not bring some bird seed? Sure it’s not really the most traditional version of the animal but hey.. It’s worth a try. 

I think Punishing Bird would see it as a sort of offering of gratitude for the hard work it does (pecking people). This is something that stirs its affinity towards you. Most people duck and take cover, or just keep speeding up so it can eventually land on something else to harass. But an offering? Well.. 

The thing is so adorable picking at the seeds tossed on the ground in the hallway. As deadly as it is, it's just so cute.

That said the first time it lands on your shoulder? It’s horrifying. Now yes you’ve been having good experiences with the abnormality but no one really knows or has an idea of what is deemed as ‘aggressive behavior’. That’s why no one does anything.

It’s just hanging out there… like you’re a perch? Well given the new scenario you’re likely to be as still as one. But.. there is work to get to and your reports aren’t going to look great if you sit around doing nothing.

So I imagine you’d give a try at moving and.. Would you look at that you’re not immediately dead! Sure it’s going to take some testing on just what this little bird will permit you to do in its presence but progress is being made.

Generally befriending this abnormality would be super beneficial to you. Asides from it just being great emotional support when it nests on your head and cuddles up in its own feathers, it also encourages things not to mess with you whether that’s people or other abnos.

Something trying to hurt you? What a fool. Its beak snaps open and devours whatever it is whole. If your uniform isn’t already a mess from the work day than it is now, that’s the price to pay for protection. 

Sadly you would not be able to bring it into the other containment rooms due to protocol. Management doesn’t want to run the risk of unintentionally finding a deadly combo of abnormalities.. And depending on the behavior of what you’re working with, Punishing Bird might try to pick a fight.

This little bird has a voracious appetite. It will flutter on by, sit on your shoulder and try to snag a bite of whatever you’re eating for lunch. Whether you want to or not you will be sharing your meal.

Being in the same room every day can be sort of boring and believe it or not Punishing Bird in a lot of aspects is just a regular bird. It needs just as much enrichment. Am I saying that you should bring little knick knacks and toys for it to play with? Yes.

It doesn’t really peck at you much anymore, that said it still will bite and try to pull at your hair every once in a while like it's gathering some kind of material. It hurts a little bit but it's the same as a dog or cat play-biting.

Don’t underestimate this bird’s grip. It has talons of steel and will absolutely lock down on whatever it is standing on and will not let go. It’s also pretty hard to stir awake from its sleep, so even if you’re running for your life you can rest assured knowing that it won’t fall face first on the floor.

Brings little trinkets back to you, most of which it’s stolen off of the other employees. Sometimes it makes for interesting interactions when your colleague notices you have their missing charm… 

It doesn’t make much sound aside from the small beating of its wings which causes it to unintentionally be very sneaky when it isn’t midair. You might not even realize it until you feel a small pressure and realize that you are now no longer alone.

With how light it is sometimes you only realize when you start getting stared down by the other employees. Some of them are used to it, while the others are pretty concerned. You get treated with far more respect under the watching eyes of the Punishing Bird.

[catcake24]

I’m not super into comics or superheroes, it seems exhausting to keep up with alot though I know the basics, but I wanted to share my Superhero character

Their hero name is Wolfbane, a hero who is also a disabled person while awake but while she sleeps they project a werewolf form out into the world and fights crime/villains.

Her civillian identity is Lyra Cansino (based on the words Lycan and Canine respectively), also (she/they, Demi-girl), who has Myalgic Encephalomyelitis or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. This condition has left them homebound and unable to work to live normally, living with her sister.

She got her powers after visiting a church in their hometown, where she prayed that she could have a way to help others despite their physical limitations. She isn’t sure if god listened or something else happened, but they got bitten by a wolf that night and ever since she could project themself out as a wolfman/wolf while she’s asleep. This form isn’t affected by her fatigue, unless overexerted, and goes out at night to experience more things she could never before - even if they terrify everyone around her.

During one of these nights, she notices someone getting mugged and steps in - soon they start actively stopping crime in their area, and eventually becomes an actual hero known as Wolfbane.

The villlians I’ve thought of the most are three: Darkblood, a vampire terrorizing the area and drinking the blood of civilians and head of a vampire mafia; Bloodraine, a Witch who puts curses on people for fun and often robs stores for ingredients in her potions, mischievous and uncaring for the plight of mortals, and her plans are often to use dark magic for power or selfish gain; and NightFang, another werewolf who uses his powers to run a powerful gang of monsters who runs a protection money racket, attacking anyone who won’t pay him, lashing out at a world which rejected him.

Also Wolfbane would deal with normal criminals as well, but I find those less interesting lol.

Some extra ideas here

As mentioned above Lyra is Christian, but isn’t an asshole about it or bigoted. She uses her faith as a comfort, as well as something she just grew up with.

Other hero’s aren’t aware of their true identity, or that their wolf form isn’t their real body, due to her not wanting them to coddle her. Some of them eventually find out, but are mostly accepting

If she gets injured, they appear as more minor injuries on her real body - stabbing becomes really bad bruises, and what should be broken bones becomes aches. If their wolf form dies she wakes up immediately but can’t use it again until the next full moon. Their wolf dying also really really hurts, since the pain is the same as it would be normally even if the injuries become more benign when she wakes up.

The werewolf form can be either an actual wolf or a Wolfman, and can shift between them whenever they want. Also, they use different pronouns while as a werewolf, since the form is literally genderless. I’ve been switching for most of this, but it’s mostly she/her in her civillian identity and they/them in their hero identity. If that’s confusing, they’re a Demi-girl and use both pronouns.

If you don’t know what chronic fatigue, or myalgic encephalomyelitis, it’s a long term chronic condition which causes high levels of fatigue in people, rendering them unable to do normal everyday things or getting completely drained from doing something strenuous, usually 12-24 hours after the fact. There’s more symptoms, but basically for Lyra it’s rendered her homebound and unable to work but desperately wanting to help the less fortunate, leading them to becoming a hero.

Inspiration - this character is pulling from both my own experiences and old Christian mythology around werewolves. Basically, there used to be stories around people becoming wolves in their dreams and doing things like hunting witches in the name of god. The personal inspiration is my own current experiences, since I had long Covid and I’m 90% sure I have chronic fatigue syndrome as well. I’m no expert, but after I got sick I wondered about a hero sharing this experience I’m going through and how they might deal with it.

[etherfabric]

Hey!I really resonate with the way you write your readings and would love a reading from you! I feel like theres a message I need to hear but feel like Im kind of blocked rn. I wanted to ask what is it that I need to let go of and what is the message I need to hear? Im also happy to pay! Thanks again! 💖

Also the link you posted in your pinned leads to the user creating their own post-- wanted to let you know!

(thank you so much for telling me about the faulty link, i deleted it)

Hey there! Really glad I managed to offer something that inspired you to approach me. According to the cards I pulled for you, this is my reading:

Knight of Pentacles rx, 9 of Swords, Ace of Cups rx

I get a feeling of you not noticing how hard you are on yourself. You kind of delude yourself about the way to go about healing in general - subconsciously, you still think it's your job to make the past hurts undone; to make yourself unscathed, like it never happened, and everything else would be a moral failure on your part. Especially laziness is something you don't want to be guilty of, so you push yourself to things that you wouldn't even consider aiming for if you truly knew what healing actually means.

Healing means making it possible for yourself to experience the exact opposite of the hurt you had to endure. The body, mind and soul already naturally strive for healing, you don't have to manually push them in that direction. Like when you cut your hand, the healing happens when you don't interfere, or you can even support the natural progression of things. If you ignore the cut, act like the cut isn't there, you will be more likely to make decisions that can sabotage the healing process. When you accept your cut, are conscious of it, don't fight its existence, you are much more likely to make supportive decisions.

The same applies to wounds of the soul and mind. We have to turn towards them, acknowledge them, make them part of our conscious self image, and that often means feeling the accompanying pain again. Like seeing the blood in the cut. It's scary, it's ugly, it's not what you would pick as a pleasant afternoon activity. But wounds need tending to, or it will fester. Being ashamed of a wound makes you hide it. But you can't heal what you hide from yourself.

What you try to accomplish with superficial action - and what makes you very impatient with the results, or lack thereof - could be actually achieved with learning about your own cycles and rhythms, and especially how to go with them instead of against them. Like when you encounter a period of fatigue, don't look for ways to erase the fatigue, look for ways to work with it. What tasks can be dropped? Who is pressuring you out of your body's signals? Why do you listen to them and not your body? In what small ways can you be on your side?

When you get angry, don't look for ways to surpress it and replace it with a "better" emotion, find out what you need to just let it be as much as possible. Do you feel unsafe to express it with certain people in your life? What do you make the anger mean morally?

Or anxiety. Stop giving yourself To Do lists that are written for someone without anxiety. You can't summon a second soul who never saw what you saw into your body. Be mindful of your anxiety. Plan with it, accomodate it, embrace it.

What makes you scared of letting yourself be as you actually are? What are the concrete horror scenarios? And what steps could you take to cushion yourself against them, so stepping into the scary parts of yourself feels a little less scary? Is it having a talk with someone? Looking for another job? Asking for help? Admitting something?

This is not a one and done event. It's a process. A dedication towards yourself. I don't make the rules, and as a person with heavy Capricorn placements and deep shame, I had to learn this against my will the very, very hard way of chronic illness; to actually listen to my body's natural rhythms instead of bruteforcing my scared-of-my-true-self-so-i'd-rather-try-to-be-this-character ideas through me. For most of my life, I was cursing my limitations, and obsessed over how to break free of them, instead of looking for a rhyme and reason within them.

There is one. A rather beautiful one, actually. You will learn there is a wisdom so ancient inside of you, that speaks a language older than words, that is connected to everything you see, and no one can ever take it away from you. Getting in touch with it is a process in itself, and it will have periods of silence where you can fall back on your other strategies (and actually tweak them with your new knowledge, so they become more authentic to your true essence) but it's very worth it, and it will return, and your intentions always matter and will yield results.

And then you can witness the miracle of your energy flowing naturally, ebb and flow, flux and reflux, without any force or violence, and neither highs nor lows can scare you into lack mindsets. Because you know where it all comes from, and that place is eternal. And all the parts of you that you ignored and bulldozed through all this time (no judgement, you were told that's the way to do it) will be on board and provide their energy as well. Which will be more than you ever had. But you need to give it time. This is the kind of process where every day will feel the same, you won't see any improvements, even regression (because you stopped using fear/adrenaline to get things done) but once you truly stepped out of your own way enough, nature will take over. Keep at it, know where those pushy mindsets come from that will pop up again and again (*cough* capitalism *cough*) and I promise it will be better than ever, in a dimension I couldn't possibly describe to someone who hasn't lived it themselves.

...whoo, that was quite a lot, and also heavy, but actually that's exactly the stuff that makes Tarot reading so worth it imo. I truly hope it was what you were looking for. And about payment, the offer is very generous and flattering, but I don't feel comfortable taking money for this. You could donate the amount you were willing to give to a charity of your own choice, whatever you resonate with. Or maybe give the amount to the person behind you at the grocery store to help with necessities. I am very blessed with having everything I need already, but times are tough for many right now.

Thank you so much for trusting me with this question, I hope you could get something out of it. I really enjoyed channeling this 🙏

[ummick]

seriously you have all those blogs, get a fucking life. If you won't even read hate why do even reply with stupid replies. No sense in owning a Hamilton blog and a Schumacher one... ask Lulù about hate...

what life would you like me to have, anon? i have a husband whom i love very much and who loves me, who has been making me happy since i was 14 years old, 22 years ago. i have a pet hamster named cinnamon who puts his tiny paws on my finger and lets me pet his back so gently while i coo at him. i have my weekly trips to the grocery store, where i know the employees by name and ask after their families and compliment strangers to make them smile. i have a 40 hour playlist of songs i know by heart to sing to, which makes me feel physically lighter. i have chronic fatigue syndrome that leaves me bedridden several days out of each month. i have three kinds of arthritis in my 30s, and fibromyalgia, and bursitis in my hips, and sclerosis and hyperlordosis in my lumbar spine, and an anterior pelvic tilt that causes nerve pain that makes me unable to stand for more than 10 minutes. i have pcos and endometriosis and pelvic floor dysfunction that leave me in agony without warning. i have primary lymphedema, a congenital condition that's left my legs visibly deformed and prone to cramping. i have borderline personality disorder and c-ptsd, and anxiety and depression, and ocd, adhd, and am likely autistic. i have a tic disorder that causes large spasmodic movements in my fingers, toes, and limbs that make it difficult to function. i have a lot more than that. i take nearly 20 pills a day and it's still not enough. i have more specialists than i care to count. i have no family save my father because of a sexually abusive mother and a family that abandoned me rather than deal with it. i have no friends in person by choice because, after being failed by everyone who was ever supposed to care for me in my formative years, it's too emotionally exhausting to build that level of trust. but i have my blogs, which i'm told inspire people in their desire to write fic and make art. i have my blogs, which bring me peace by giving me an opportunity to catalog and sort things, and constantly give me something to do, given i can so rarely leave my house or even stand from my couch without being dizzy. you didn't deserve this explanation, by the way. i'm giving you the gift of insight in the hopes that you'll stop being such a selfish, feeble-minded, spiteful person and may, next time, consider that the person on the other end of your childish little rant is your equal and has experiences of their own that aren't your business. next time, just use the block button like an adult.

[mxmorbidmidnight]

HI i saw your post and wanna ask!! im writing two disabled characters [one with chronic pain, and the other with chronic fatigue]im able-bodied myself, and i wanna be respectful with how i write them! so, do you have any do’s and donts?

Hello dear! first and foremost thou art on the right track! please do consult me with thine questions. Because I am rather new to understanding my own disability and therefore depicting it in my writings my knowledge is not entirely extensive. From the perspective of a disabled person, these are things I notice and see as important. 

1. Interact with the disabled community: to understand how a disability affects a person you must speak to the people themselves. Write characters with compassion that depict their lives in their true form. This means understanding and inquiry. Listen to disabled voices and take feedback as often as you can. Having a beta reader who experiences the disability your character does is incredibly helpful. This I am happy to do. 

2. Write from a disabled perspective: a frequent issue with depictions of disabled people is they are written from an abled perspective. There is more going on behind the wheelchair or the cane. It is about looking beyond what is typically seen, and into the characters mind. When it comes to disability often disabled peoples stories are told by abled people for abled people. Often resulting in descriptions such as “she was stuck in a wheelchair” or “they couldn’t go anywhere without that cane” “he was such an angel to marry her with everything she's got going on” Instead it is important to focus on the inner feelings of the person with a disability. How it affects them, how they feel about it. eg, 

“He felt nervous using his cane in public because of how people stared”

“it took so long to get the wheelchair, she was glad to have it so she could finally get around again.”

2. disability in its true nature: often people shy away from depicting aspects of disability that are considered undesirable or cannot be romanticised. My fatigue results in issues with maintaining hygiene such as frequent showers. These aspects are a part of life with a disability. Censoring such things further pushes the idea that disabled people are to be hidden away, never to be seen. 

3. Emotion: often disabled people are used in text only for inspiration. Many will be familiar with the idea of “the good disabled person” they’re inspirational, they give a speech about never giving up to the protagonist, they’re always kind and they can do anything. The reality is disabled people are people first and foremost, being faced with something that causes pain. This will come with sadness, anger, fear and isolation. 

4. Person first: Just as one would with any other character, a strong personality must be developed. Disability will obviously affect their interactions and how they live their life, however it is vital that a character is depicted as a person first. Without a disability is this characterisation still sound? what makes this character recognisable? if I didn’t write their name after their dialogue could people tell that its them speaking? Disabled characters can often become vessels for representation and nothing more. People with disabilities are people, therefore characters representing them must also be people. 

3. Research: this is very important. It is important to understand the sytoms of disability to correctly write a characters experience as well as to avoid operating of stereotypes. 

Good luck dear!! thank you for thine question. 

(if you are a disabled person reading this, I implore thee do add any other do’s and dont’s you have)

[creacherkeeper]

Hi!!! I saw that you youre a social worker, and thats so cool because Im also neurodivergent and wanting to become a social worker. Im curious if youd talk about your journey into becoming a social worker and how youve blended that with games and maybe what gameshave inspired you UwU

hi nonny!! i absolutely would love to talk about it!!

so i've been a social worker for over two years now. i specifically work as a disability coach, content writer, and now supervisor for a company that specializes in services for autistic adults and teens, but i've worked with a lot more clients than just autistic and have professional experience with adhd, trauma/(c)ptsd, anxiety and depression, addiction, dissociative identity disorder, learning disabilities, physical disabilities, chronic pain and fatigue, and more. i started with a specialty in autism, adhd, and trauma, but it quickly wound up that whenever we got a particularly complicated or challenging case my boss just gave them to me :P which is awesome because a lot of the time they wind up being the most rewarding clients to work with

i became a social worker from an unusual route because i actually started in advocacy work. i was a disability advocate for 7 years before i got my job as a social worker, and as an advocate sat on multiple state wide disability boards, was on the board of a center of independent living, ran a statewide autism expo, sat on lots of panels, participated in a think tank, ran community events, hosted a social group, co-wrote a local guide on voting with disabilities, and even made my own educational video game about autism. so it was all of that that caught my boss's eye when i reached out to him about joining the team, and i got the job after a 5 step interview process

after writing a 27,000 word training manual for my company i've now started working with new coaches and doing their training and have been doing their supervision hours as well. i also wrote a comprehensive introductory guide to autism for psychiatric and medical providers

the question about games and gamification goes back pretty far! i struggled very heavily with ptsd, executive dysfunction, and eating disorders through college and just found that therapy wasn't a good fit for me at the time (i didnt have enough knowledge and understanding to ask for what was helpful, and wasn't at a place in my emotional journey to start unpacking years of trauma and abuse) but games were the thing that seemed to help the most. using gamified mental health aids made the process of recovery fun and put it more under my own control. it wasn't clinical and potentially dangerous (i was at severe risk of institutionalization at the time and wanted to avoid it at all costs). using gamified apps and websites, i was able to recover from my eating disorder without professional treatment, take control over my schedule, and balance a job, college, and writing three books enough to graduate with a 3.7 gpa while being entirely financially independent. at the same time, i started playing tabletop roleplaying games like d&d, monster of the week, call of cthulhu, fiasco, starfinder, and more. this so radically improved my communication and conflict resolution skills, and expanded my emotional understanding and vocabulary to the point where i felt like a whole new person

as for inspirations, gamification is still a growing field but there's good stuff out there, and i use them a lot with my clients. they tend to be hit or miss, but they do a lot of good for the people they work for, and i've taken the lessons on how these games work and adapted them into my own individual systems i build on a client by client basis. i've built mini systems to help clients navigate making friends, improve their marriage, write original fiction, and more

habitica is the one i use most often. it's a gamified to do list split into habits, dailies, and to dos where you gain xp, get loot drops, defeat bosses, and collect pets as you accomplish your tasks

superbetter helped me a lot as a younger person, its a mental health site where you take on a secret identity and activate power ups, complete quests, fight bad guys, and recruit allies to recover and accomplish big goals

finch is a digital pet app where you power up and take care of your pet by completing self care activities like drinking water, going on walks, and reaching out to friends

plant nanny is a water tracking app where the liquids you drink in a day water your digital plant. it sends you reminders to drink if your plant is thirsty, and you have to drink enough to keep it from wilting

there's also a lot of video games out there that help you explore difficult emotions and concepts. one example that i absolutely adore is a game i'm replaying right now called spiritfarer. its a cozy resource management game where you play as a psychopomp who ferries the recently deceased to the afterlife. its a very sweet and beautiful game that packs some punches, and has a lot of meaningful things to say on trauma, disability, abuse, premature death, and a lot of other difficult topics. its such an incredibly meaningful game to me. the family gaming database has curated lists of video games that tackle emotional topics like grief, trust, or love in meaningful and sensitive ways. so that's a great place to start if you're looking for games to explore those things!

i hope that answers your question :D i know i wrote a whole novel. but im very excited about the work that i do and my plan for the future is to continue creating games like haunting to help people with mental health challenges and disabilities. this is only my first project but there are more on the horizon im really excited about. in the meantime you can check out my games at @psychhound where i post a lot of smaller systems and try to post freebies fairly regularly!

absolute best of luck with your own journey nonny, and if you ever had any more thoughts or questions please let me know!!

[mr-ambiguity]

Digital Witchcraft 101

When you’re researching witchcraft and Paganism, it’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that there’s One Right Way to do it. When I was a baby witch, I thought adhering to Wiccan traditions and principles was the “correct” way. My first few months of research were filled with fantasies of elaborate altars carefully arranged with God and Goddess symbols and elemental objects, high-energy rituals for the sabbats, and an emphasis on incorporating various herbs, oils, and incenses into my practice. I looked online trying to find a wand that was both beautiful and inexpensive. I wondered where in my tiny cluttered room I could set up an altar. I tried my hand at keeping a Book of Shadows and planned to fill it with all the spells and correspondences I could find.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with these practices, and if they work for you, that’s fantastic! But it’s also important to acknowledge that magick isn’t one-size-fits-all and some methods aren’t accessible or feasible for everyone, for a variety of reasons.

Magickal tools like wands, athames, crystals, and tarot decks can be expensive, making them out of reach for witches who are unemployed or living in poverty. Ritual work tends to require a lot of focused physical and mental energy that witches with chronic illnesses and fatigue simply don’t have, as well as being time-consuming to perform. And, like myself, many witches are living in homes where it might be unsafe to reveal their craft to family members, which means that magickal tools and fancy altars aren’t an option.

Fortunately, non-traditional witchcraft is just as powerful and effective as the “traditional” stuff. (Sometimes even more so, because it allows you so much freedom to customize and figure out what works for you!) One of the most accessible and versatile tools available is digital technology. If you’ve got a computer and/or phone, there are tons of ways you can use them for your practice. Here are just a few ideas that could be useful to witches at any level of experience.

~

1. Digital Book of Shadows

I think most of us enjoy the images we see online of super-detailed grimoires and journals. The fancy leather covers, scrawling handwriting, stunning artwork, and beautiful border designs. The tables of correspondences and hand-drawn moon phase calendars. Beauty and detail like that makes people excited about witchcraft! It’s basically the bullet journal inspiration of the witchy world.

But if you’re like me, looking at those gorgeous flip-throughs on Tumblr and Instagram can also feel overwhelming. Not all of us feel great about our art skills. Not all of us have the time it takes to handwrite pages and pages of spells and lists. (My arm starts hurting after a few paragraphs of handwriting anything, to be honest.) If you have nosy or controlling housemates, a physical book might not be safe to keep. And physical grimoires can also be tougher to organize. I always worry that I’ll have something to add after a designated section is entirely full. I may be a witch, but I can’t just magickally make another blank page appear where I need it.

A digital grimoire or Book of Shadows, though? Easy to maintain.

Using a word processing program like Microsoft Word or Google Docs can make organization a breeze. As an example, I use Google Docs for storing a lot of my witchy information, split into their own sections: Correspondences, Deities, Holidays, Ideas/reminders, Journal prompts, Spells/rituals, and Tarot/divination. If you do a lot of research online, you can copy and paste relevant information into a document within seconds instead of copying it down by hand. You don’t have to worry about running out of space, either.

You can still personalize a digital version by using colorful fonts, copying and pasting pictures, and taking advantage of the templates offered by your word processor.

~

2. Digital Spellwork

One advantage of using your device in your magick is that the electricity powering it adds an extra boost of energy to your spells. I like to visualize the cord keeping my laptop charged also charging up my magick. This can be helpful for us witches who have issues with energy regulation and fatigue.

There are also countless ways you can cast spells with a computer as your tool. Some witches use social media likes and sharing to charge and cast their spells. Others use emojis to symbolize their intent. I’ve personally used my desktop background as a symbol with the intention that the spell will charge whenever I look at it. If you’re into writing magick, you can type up a quick incantation and activate it either by saving or deleting the document. If you’ve got witchy friends, you can cast and charge by messaging each other.

There are even more ideas out there that I haven’t listed. Get creative. Take a look at the built-in abilities of your device and figure out how you can harness them to focus your magick.

~

3. Digital Divination

I am, above all else, a tarot witch. I was unintentionally doing digital witchcraft long before calling myself a witch when my teenage self started using a website that gave free computer-generated tarot and rune readings. It was how I first started learning the meanings of the cards and where I first connected to tarot as a divination system.

Years later, I still take advantage of free online readings from time to time. This is especially true for moon phase readings — I can never guarantee that I’ll have the focus and motivation needed to clear off my desk, get out a deck and tarot journal, and do a full spread. Using computer-generated readings and typing my interpretations is a lot easier sometimes, particularly on days where my depression is strong.

There are plenty of other ways to use technology as a divination tool. You can use random word or writing generators for insight. Your digital music library is all you need for shufflemancy (the practice of using shuffled songs for divination). Word processors are ideal for quick-paced automatic writing sessions. Get creative and see what you can come up with.

~

4. Digital Worship

For those witchcraft practitioners who work with deities, there are plenty of ways to honor and interact with them using technology. The number one method I’ve found is the use of e-shrines. If you don’t have the space or you’re unable to be open with your practice, e-shrines are a great alternative to physical altars. All you need is a digital space where you can leave prayers and offerings.

Any social media site can house an e-shrine, but my personal favorite is Pinterest. I have an entire board dedicated to the deities I work with where each deity is given their own section. You can put anything you want on your shrine — I personally save any quotes, photos, and artwork that remind me of them. Your deities will appreciate the time you put into collecting such posts. An e-shrine also serves as a space where you can go to connect with your deities by reading or viewing things that remind you of their energy.

I know that looking at others’ elaborate methods of practice can lead to frustration and self-comparison. Even though I’ve gotten better at embracing my own unique way of making magick, I still often feel a pang of envy or inadequacy when I see those gorgeous Instagram altars packed with massive crystals, expensive tarot decks, and bundles of herbs and flowers. I sometimes worry that my magick won’t be as effective without all the traditional tools.

~

But the most important lesson I’ve seen and learned since beginning my practice is this: there is only one absolute essential you will ever need in witchcraft and that is you. Your magick comes from within. Any tools that you use in the process are simply there to help you focus your intention. That means that there’s no shame in using whatever options are available to you. If you want that added focus and your computer or your phone is all that you can or want to use, go for it. I promise your magick will be just as powerful and beautiful.

[melodioustear]

On Radical Disclosure

This week, as term ended, I was at a two day workshop/conference on research ethics with regards to illness narratives. It was one of the most varied collections of people I've seen - from my fanfiction work to someone studying human remains - and yet we all had so much in common and so much to discuss.

Something that got talked about quite a bit was the issue of disclosure and positionality. For many of us in the medical humanities, our positionality in relation to the illness(es) we're studying is considered important. It's integral to my thesis. But other researchers expressed that this was hard for them, because they actively did not want to disclose their health status. It's especially awkward with some illnesses - consider those dealing with things like infertility, with STDs, with something like urinary or digestive issues.

I completely agree that no one should be forced to disclose their health status as part of their research, even though my positionality is a fundamental part of my own. There's parts of my health I don't talk about! Even still, I had an instinctual feeling of defensiveness when it was brought up, and I spent quite a lot of time thinking about why that is.

My conclusion was this: for me, disclosure is a radical act. I have two sides to my disability, the chronic pain/fatigue side and the mental/neurodivergent side. Both sides are things that I have been taught (primarily by ableism) to repress. I'm a woman, so my pain is dismissed. I've had instances in the past where people have told me to stop sharing my emotional distress, because I was being too depressing and no one wanted to hear that much of it. There is a near constant voice in my head saying that I should not take up space, be seen, express my pain.

By centering my experience, by talking about that experience, by allowing it to exist out in the world, I am - essentially - giving a giant fuck you to that voice. To the ableist world that thinks that I should vanish into nothing, and the parts of my Madness that parrot that. In a way, it's the very thing I did in response to the chronic and traumatic bullying I experienced as a child: being more loudly, more proudly the very thing that they said I was.

People should absolutely choose whether to disclose things or not, be that in research or in general. I believe this wholeheartedly. But we need, also, to recognise the rebellion inherent in disclosure for many disabled and Mad people. To acknowledge how brave it is to shout your existence into a world that tries to eradicate it. To hold space for both disclosure and non-disclosure, and everywhere inbetween.

Grateful for the workshop & participants giving me the thinking space to process this, the inspiration for the realisation, and also Alice Wong for Year of the Tiger, which I was reading alongside this and helped me process it a lot too.

[kewcreation]

Introduction

Art and Sobriety

I remember the day I picked up my camera because I needed something to do with my hands at my first family event sober. Anxious without a drink in my hand, I turned to something I knew I was comfortable doing. I didn’t know at that moment the impact of capturing group shots of my family members would spark the next chapter in my life.

“You really should think about a career in photography."

As a child I was surrounded by art; we had paintings by my Grandad, Tony Kew, in every room. Early on I had an appreciation for the beauty of the human figure. I’d look at his paintings and I wanted to be just like him, and I still do. I enjoyed the arts and I would receive approval from my peers.

Addiction began at a young age for me. I was in a military family with undiagnosed mental illness. High school was isolating as I was in alternative education. I graduated from adult high school at age 20, and went to college for general arts and science. I took interest in psychology with the idea of becoming a psychologist, meanwhile I was struggling with my own mental health and substance abuse. I was not creating art at this time. 

My Mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was in college. This took a toll on our family, and my addiction worsened. Scared for my Mom’s life I began to spiral behind closed doors. I dropped out of college.

My Mom recovered, and I started volunteering in pediatrics oncology as a way to give back. I finished college, and then started a position in patient transferring soon after. Working in health care taught me many things, including the value of health and wellness. Accompanying the sick put my life into perspective, but I was still in active addiction. I had a burn-out resulting in fatigue and chronic pain, a diagnosis of fibromyalgia. I did not know what my next steps were, but sobriety had to be the start.

My sobriety journey has been a challenging one, but it’s also been incredibly rewarding. Sobriety has given me a new perspective on life and has helped me see the world in a different light. I’m more present, focused, and more in tune with my emotions. I’ve learned to appreciate the small things in life and to find joy in the everyday moments. Sobriety has also given me the courage to pursue my dreams and to take risks that I never would have taken before. It has given me the strength to face my problems head-on and to deal with them in a healthy way. Most importantly, it has connected me to my roots as an artist.

After 7 months of sobriety I was diagnosed Bipolar Type 2. Receiving this diagnosis was the start of self acceptance and self forgiveness. It is something I will have to manage for the rest of my life, but with my sobriety, art, and loved ones, I am blessed.

I have done a lot of counselling and have attended many support groups. It wasn’t until recently I thought about using art of a tool of healing. Through art, I’m able to express my emotions and experiences in a way that words couldn’t. My inspiration comes from a variety of sources, including music, nature, and the people around me. I enjoy many mediums, including photography, drawing, painting, writing, and bass guitar. There is a feeling of comfort with room for improvement and growth, which sparks ambition in me. At 26 years old, I am currently enrolled for photography in college, and I am 16 months sober.

My dream is to capture my and the overall human experience through multi mediums. 

My hope for this blog is connection as well as creative expression. This is a safe space to share my work along with some thoughts. I hope there is some inspiration for you.

Much love,

Hannah

This post is dedicated in loving memory of Justin Blacklock. Loving son and brother, you will be missed.

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Life Coach Training with Beyond Success

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Life Coach Training with Beyond Success

If you’re interested in training to become a Life Coach, you might be interested in my experience of the Life Coach training course run by Beyond Success.

I first heard Paul Blackburn from Beyond Success speak at a Think and Grow Rich event run by Stuart Zadel, back in July 2007. At the time, I had been suffering from Chronic Fatigue for about 4 months, and was feeling very anxious, agitated, exhausted, and desperate about my future. Having visited a bunch of doctors with no success, I didn’t know why I was ill or what to do about it. I was beginning to worry about how I was going to be able to earn money again in the future. I had burned out rather spectacularly from my Engineering career, and although I had plenty of available job offers the idea of going back to a job in an industry I no longer found fulfilling while I was feeling so ill was very unappealing. Figuring I could make it through a three day seminar without collapsing, I turned up at the Think and Grow Rich wealth creation conference hoping for some kind of inspiration.

Various speakers talked enthusiastically about investing in shares, property, and Internet-based businesses. In theory with my background in Computer Engineering I should have been well suited to developing an Internet-based business; but my expertise was more about understanding how the protocols and servers that ran it worked, than how to make money selling things over it. All the presentations were very slick, giving enough details of the various business ideas to hook you in, followed by a sales pitch for some kind of information product or training where they slashed the prices and threw in a stack of bonuses, putting the traditional free-set-of-steak-knives to shame. Yet somehow none of the ideas on offer appealed to me.

Then I heard Paul Blackburn speak. He was tremendously funny, yet he spoke about things that seemed important: why we do what we do, and the emotions underlying everything that drives us. He spoke a couple of times, and his message about the importance of our subconscious mindset struck a chord with me. In his last talk he got everyone in the room to pair up and do an eye contact exercise which involved asking the question “What is love?” repetitively until we ran out of things to say; and then some. It was tremendously moving, with barely a dry eye in the place. I paired up with a woman around my age, and we both cried as we spoke about what love meant to us, and how badly genuine unconditional was missing in our lives. Given we were complete strangers at a wealth creation conference, it was pretty moving stuff.

After that came the sales pitch. Paul said he had a problem. His company worked in the personal development industry, and were in the business of helping people change their lives through Life Coaching. There was a massive demand out there, he said, and they were desperately needing more people to train as Life Coaches. So they were running a 12-month training course. This course would be different from most Life Coach training courses, because a major component of the course would focus on emotional healing for the trainees themselves. Paul figured that you’ve got to walk your talk. For him, dealing with emotional issues was central to everything, and if we were going to help other people offload their emotional baggage, we’d have to get our own houses in order first.

Fair enough, I thought. That sounded like it had integrity. I remembered back to when I had been a volunteer telephone counsellor with Lifeline several years before, and how rewarding I had found it at the time. I’d pretty much burned out at that too, but it had been the one thing aside from Engineering that I’d found really rewarding. Coaching would be a bit different to counselling, but it sounded like a good option. I was looking for a short quick-fix escape from the anxiety and desperation of feeling ill all the time. Helping other people might even help me get my own life into order, but I didn’t feel like doing a 3 year degree or diploma in counselling or psychology. Twelve months sounded nice and short; although I wondered if it was long enough to learn how to be a good Life Coach, start my own coaching business, and deal with my own remaining emotional baggage.

Up on screen flashed the details of the offer, followed by the price: $50,000. Gulp. I waited for the hefty discount… and there wasn’t one. The payment structure was $25,000 now, and a further $25,000 when you make your first $100,000 per year as a coach. Ouch. If we paid the first payment up-front, we got a $5000 discount. It was still more money that I’d ever paid on anything other than my home, and certainly vastly more than any of the many personal development courses I’d done in the past. My car didn’t even cost that much. But the course seemed to combine everything I was interested in, into one package: emotional healing, coach training bootcamps, how to write and publish a book, and how to become a public speaker to promote your business. I had been working on an autobiographical book about dealing with emotional baggage from my childhood before becoming ill, and knew that in order to promote it I would need to learn the art of public speaking. I’d even joined [intlink id=”270″ type=”post”]Toastmasters[/intlink] the month before the conference to get me started. Here was a training course offering everything I wanted in one package, but I was baulking at the price.

I pondered whether I was just running one of the subconscious programs that Paul had talked about, in my case seeing what I wanted in front of me but making some excuse for not going for it. I didn’t have $25,000 in spare cash just lying around. I had enough in shares to cover it, but it would mean a years worth of living expenses gone in one hit at a time when I had very little income. “Bugger it… I’ll just do it!”, I decided. So at the appointed time when most people left the room, I went forward with the faithful to find out more. The intake procedure involved Paul holding your hand, staring into your eyes, and somehow discerning that you were serious and ready for this undertaking. Just to be sure it was backed by a $950 deposit payable on the spot. It seemed a bit voodoo, but I was in.

The core of the course consisted of four 3-day emotional healing bootcamps spread out over the country, over a 12 month period. Trainees from every different state in Australia would fly in for the bootcamps. I was fortunate to be living in Sydney and since Beyond Success are based in Canberra, their events tend to be biased towards Canberra and Sydney. But I also went to bootcamps and other events in Perth and Melbourne.

Each emotional healing bootcamp covered a particular aspect of emotional healing. Much of the work revolved around talking about emotional issues relating to our parents, our siblings, our partners, and even God, as we worked on fear, grief, sadness, anger, anxiety and other troubling emotions. The basic philosophy behind it all was that “The healing is in the expression of the feeling”, and to ditch our emotional baggage involved allowing ourselves to express and feel all the painful feelings that we had been avoiding. Even after years of therapy, I knew I still had emotional baggage that I wanted to ditch, and welcomed the opportunity to do it in a supportive group environment. Plus the notion that we were doing it ultimately so that would could help others do the same seemed a little less self-indulgent than more navel-gazing therapy.

After each emotional healing bootcamp was a 2-day coach training and business development workshop, where we learned how to recruit clients, how to work with the, and how to use the Beyond Success coaching system. The system includes a home-grown personality typing test, and a series of units which we were to email to clients as homework exercises between coaching calls. The bulk of the work for the client involved working on these exercises, then sending them back for us to review. Most of the actual client contact work could be done over the Internet by email, with support calls every couple of weeks or once a month. There are hundreds of units in the system covering topics such as life management, relationships, self-esteem, assertiveness, finances, and more. At a suggested rate of one unit per week, a client could keep working (and paying) for years provided they felt they were continuing to get value out of it.

As part of the training, each of us was assigned a Life Coach of our own from Beyond Success’s pool of master coaches. If we were offering coaching to other people, we needed to have our own coach as well. I liked the integrity behind this. It also meant that we experienced what it was like to have a coach, and as part of working on our own issues we would learn how to use the system to help other people work on theirs. The master coach used exactly the same system and process of homework units that we were being taught to use with our clients, so we got to see how it all worked in practise.

I have been interested in personal development for a long time, and had already read widely on the subject. There wasn’t a great deal of new material for me in the units that I worked on, and I can’t honestly say that I felt I got a great deal out of the unit work. The common underlying theme is that emotions are at the heart of everything that we do, and we need to learn to deal with how we truly feel by expressing it constructively. Coming from an emotionally shut-down family, it has taken me a long time to unlock my repressed emotions, and most of the action for me happened at the bootcamps rather than by doing the unit homework. I’d already read books like Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey, and the like. I found that a lot of the material in the Beyond Success coaching system is derived from popular personal development best-sellers. What they have done is structured it really nicely into a system that’s easy to deliver and work with clients with. It’s a little like buying a franchise where you get access to the business system; and looking at it this way, the cost of the course is a little more palatable. That said, one friend I met on the course was cured of his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and years of depression, by a single powerful psychodrama exercise Paul conducted on one of the bootcamps. To him, that one experience was worth the $25K alone.

One of the things I liked about the course was the sense of community surrounding the trainees. We were all from diverse backgrounds, but we all came together for the bootcamps and other events during the 12-months. So we would meet up, and check in with how everyone else was going. It was amazing seeing how much the other trainees I met grew during the period.

In addition to the bootcamps, the course also offered free access to all Beyond Success’s other events. These include The Mental Toolbox, which is like a lite emotional healing bootcamp; Mouthing Off For Big Money, which taught public speaking and selling-from-stage skills; Resolving The Money Riddle, which taught financial management and wealth creation; and Your Book In 90 Days, which taught how to write and market your own book. All are based on the same core philosophy of dealing with emotional baggage in order to be successful. There was some overlap between all of these, but Paul always seemed to be coming up with something interesting to say, or a new way to say it that reinforced the idea. We were also given free tickets to events run by friends of the Blackburns, such and Darryl and Andrew Grant’s Internet Secrets workshop.

Over the course of the 12 months, I had two different coaches. I got on really well with the first: a married woman about my age and married with kids. We related well and she was very supportive. The coaching relationship is more two-way than a traditional counselling relationship, and it was very much like having a friend who you paid for advice. When she went on maternity leave I switched to another coach: a country guy who was also married with kids. I didn’t feel like I connected with him very well. He was generally pretty supportive, but I seemed to grate on him. Both coaches were very receptive to talking about emotional issues, as they saw this as key to what a good coach should be working on. Towards the end, my second coach seemed to run out of ideas and become frustrated with me, although he didn’t really let on. I can well understand that working with a client with chronic fatigue would be frustrating, because our energy is so limited and our frustration level off-the-scale. Also, his goals as a married man and my goals as a single playboy-wannabe were rather divergent. Although he was married, I didn’t get the impression he was brilliant when it came to women. One thing I learned from all this was that if you are going to have a mentor, you want to make sure they’ve already achieved what you want to achieve.

Part of the course involved setting up your own coaching business. They recommend you start off by recruiting at least 5 pro-bono clients, offering them an introductory 3 months of free coaching, and converting them into paying clients at the end of the 3 months if possible. We could do this at any time after the first bootcamp, when we got access to the full set of homework units. I had no trouble recruiting friends and associates as clients with the offer of 3 months free coaching, although I had difficulty converting them into paying clients at the end of the 3 months.

My clients all had self-esteem issues, and one said he “wanted more energy”. That seemed ironic given that I had chronic low self-esteem myself, and chronic fatigue. Apparently a coach tends to attract clients with similar issues. My health was really getting me down, and I wondered whether I could actually help these people. Focusing on someone else’s problems gave me a break from my own, but I wasn’t all that excited about making coaching calls and answering emails. Some days I felt inspired, but on others I just didn’t have the energy or motivation to help them. I can’t say for sure whether it was the emotional gunge dredged up by the emotional healing work, or the chronic fatigue but I found myself becoming increasingly depressed. Who wants a depressed Life Coach? That sounded ridiculous, and by the time my pro-bono clients were coming to the end of their free 3 months, I was happy to let them go. I was relieved that none of them wanted to continue coaching, although it would have been nice to have someone say they wanted to pay for my services and I felt pretty terrible about giving up.

For the later bootcamps, the company mailed everyone on its database with an offer of 3 months free coaching for anyone who was prepared to fill in a preliminary assessment and travel to Canberra and meet up with a trainee. Potential clients flew in from all over the country. The director of coaching paired all the clients and trainees up in advance, and let the trainees loose on the clients armed with the information from the client’s preliminary assessment form. This seemed to work really well, especially for coach trainees who were having difficulty sourcing pro-bono clients. Even though the offer was for “free” coaching, the fact that people were prepared to travel to Canberra to get it indicated a reasonable level of commitment and showed that there really was a lot of demand out there for coaches.

If the clients sourced by Beyond Success converted to paying clients at the end of the 3 months, the agreement was that Beyond Success would take a rather hefty commission of the ongoing payments. Whereas for clients we sourced ourselves, we kept 100% of their payments; there is no ongoing license fee on the Beyond Success system. Unfortunately by this stage I was too depressed to want to coach anyone. I ended up working with one of the other coaches, who helped me to put together an action plan for digging myself out of my hole once I got home again. Looking back now, the plan appears to have worked.

Most of the people I met on the coach training programme were intending to start their own coaching business, but some where there purely for the emotional healing aspect of it; and probably the sense of community. I’d estimate that only about half the people I met on the course have actually ended up starting a coaching business at the present time. I don’t know of any who are earning the big dollars over $100K. At the minimum fee of $440/month, it would take a client load of 20 clients in order to do so; which would keep you pretty busy answering their emails. Most of the people I know working as coaches after completing the program also had previous training in counselling, NLP, voice dialogue or some other form of healing therapy. My 9 year stint as a part time volunteer telephone counsellor with Lifeline helped me enormously in talking about emotions. I think a random person with no helping background who did the course would struggle to become an effective coach on such a short, intense program. I’m sure it’s been done, but they’d be the exception rather than the rule.

At the time I finished the course, I felt like a failure because I hadn’t managed to get my coaching business going. I lacked the motivation and follow through to do it. I was struggling health-wise, and was actually relieved when the course was over and I no longer had bootcamps to attend. I chose not to go on with the follow-on Coach Pro programme which would have extended the training for another 12 months, as I wanted a break from the emotional roller-coaster I was on and paying more money on coach training didn’t seem to make sense to me if I wasn’t actually committed to getting a coaching business of my own going. I lost contact with most of the people in the community as they were spread all over the country, and didn’t even stay in regular contact with those based in my home town of Sydney.

At times I felt I was pretending to want to be a Life Coach. I had been lacking a career path and felt anxious about that. Coaching seemed like a good option, sometimes. At other times, the whole idea of Life Coaching seemed a bit dicky to me. I didn’t feel like I really got all that much out of having a coach of my own. By far the best part of the training programme was the boot camps, and we couldn’t easily offer them to our clients. If a client asked me if I had a coach, I could say “yes”, but if they asked if I found it good value for money, I would have to have said “not really, I don’t feel I get that much out of having a coach to be honest”.

Beyond Success have been around for a long time, and have networked with other people doing similar work. One such person is Nicholas de Castella, who now runs his own healing program after being introduced to emotional healing at a Beyond Success event. I heard about his Passionately Alive workshop and went down to Melbourne for it, still suffering with Chronic Fatigue and the associated frustration. I found it even more powerful than the Beyond Success bootcamps. If you want access to emotional healing group work but aren’t interested in training to become a Life Coach, I recommend you look into Nicholas’s programs instead.

It’s now almost 12 months since I completed the Beyond Success Life Coach Training course. My health is slowly on the mend, and I’m going back to working on the book I put aside when I became ill. I’m doing an acting course based on emotional truth to further unlock my emotional repression, and I’m quite involved at my Toastmaster’s club learning the public speaking skills I’ll need to promote my book. There are common threads between all these things and what I learned on the coach training programme. I liked the fact that they were explicitly validating of emotions, and most of the trainees had a sense of unconditional acceptance about how I felt. Occasionally I came across coaches who appeared judgemental of my chronic state of ill health, but most people were supportive and empathic.

I haven’t done a great deal of research on how this course compares to other Life Coach training courses. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the most expensive. For your money, you get some life changing emotional healing, a network of supportive people to work with, and a system to use with your clients. In some ways it’s a bit cultish, but in Paul Blackburn’s words “yes, but it’s a good cult”. One thing I found frustrating was that venues and dates of components of the course tended to be organised at the last minute. I didn’t mind this too much as I had few other commitments, but if there was one thing I’d like to see Beyond Success improve it is their forward planning. It seems to be a pattern; their recent inaugural coaching conference sounded excellent, but came with only a couple of weeks notice. When the actual events came around though, they were great at communicating about getting to the right place at the right time with a diligent office worker calling each time to confirm that we were on-track to attend. But when forking out that amount of money, I expect the programme for the next 12 months to be nailed down with venues and dates. I know event management is a bit of a nightmare and things go wrong, but I heard Mary Blackburn apologise for unforeseen circumstances many times and wondered whether that would happen if things were planned further in advance.

Despite my reservations about the cost, the brevity of the course, and the health difficulties I was experiencing at the time, I can definitely say that the course helped open my eyes to the importance of developing my emotional intelligence and dealing with my emotional baggage. It also linked me up with a network of new friends who also considered this important. I see my future in public speaking and story telling on this very topic, rather than coaching, but will more than likely be mentoring other people as I go. The skills I learned in the Beyond Success Life Coach Training course will be invaluable.

If you’re interested in becoming a Life Coach and you like what Paul and Mary teach, chances are you’ll get a lot out of this course. The best way to find out if you resonate with Paul’s core message is to hear him speak, and the best place to do that is by going to Resolving The Mindset Riddle when it comes to your town.