#like even after i was able to eat and sleep and function normally without the tremors and head jerks and whatnot

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

You've written on pregnancy with a ghoul but do you have any opinions on the possibility of synth pregnancy or pregnancy with a synth as the sperm wizard

(Mild warnings for brief discussion of pregnancy loss and maternal death.)

I had to sit on this question for a while and do a bit of synth research to re-familiarize myself with how they're made (because Nick Valentine is the only synth I care all that much about). Unfortunately for y'all, all that rumination means I'm about to sound like I've thought way too much about this, which I absolutely have.

Bear with me.

I've heard stories of people passing away and their sperm that had been previously stored (typically in advance of the person having a vasectomy/consenting to something that would limit future sperm production) being used by their spouse or partner to have children afterwards. Similarly, but a little more ghoulishly (no pun intended and also this is a personal opinion), postmortem sperm retrieval IS a thing, if you didn't know. Live sperm can be harvested from the testes if the procedure is performed quickly enough after death, or on a living person who is brain dead.

For obvious reasons, the ethics of it are hotly contested, as are the ethics of using the harvested sperm for impregnation, but let's not pretend that morality ever stopped the Institute. PSR has been used in the past by the spouses of recently deceased or brain dead men in order to have biologically related children they wouldn't be able to otherwise have.

With that little bit of background, I'll say that I imagine having a baby with a "swapped" synth, someone intended to replace a person who already exists, could be much the same sort of thing...but, you know, without you really knowing about it. They yoink your partner, harvest their sperm before they disappear them, and implant the harvested sperm into the Gen 3 replacement's lab-grown body. Bang. Boom. Baby.

However, I think whether or not synths can reproduce at all is pretty up in the air. True, the most recent generation of synth is constructed entirely of tissues grown in their labs; the human body is comprised of much more complex cells than gametes (sperm and egg cells) that would have to be produced to have a functional body, so it's feasible to assume that they have the technology to lab-create those simpler cells, too.

However, I ask this: why would they bother?

We know that the Gen 3's have organic bodies and that they're literally constructed from actual muscles/bones/organs, but who's to say some of the organs they install aren't basically "for show"? Most claim the Gen 3's don't have to eat or sleep, so are the organs that manage these functions (namely the digestive organs and possibly the reproductive organs) truly "functional"?

Obviously they can be used if needed, since Gen 3 synths can eat if they choose, but your GI tract taking stuff in at one end and spitting it out at the other doesn't mean it "works". If they truly functioned as human organs do, they'd need regular access to nutrients, rest to recuperate. A synth brain, for example, can't function the exact same way a human brain does if a synth doesn't have to eat to stay alive; the human brain requires glucose, AKA sugar obtained from eating, to function. That's why low blood sugar often gives people brain fog and puts them into a bad mood, and why it can be a medical emergency if it drops low enough. You wouldn't want that vulnerability still included in the design of your synthetic human, even if you wanted your lab-grown brain to match a real one as closely as possible.

They're supposed to be indistinguishable from humans, inside and out, but if you did an autopsy of a dead person (or synth), and their organs looked normal upon inspection, there are things about their body you still wouldn't see. You wouldn't have any idea if they actually had sperm or eggs inside their reproductive organs just by looking with the naked eye, and if they didn't have those cells, it wouldn't necessarily mean anything. Failing to include those cells wouldn't expose their design any more than including the brain chip (you know, the one you have to kill the person to access) does. Not every single detail has to be covered. If you've gotta literally dissect someone to figure out if they're a synth or not, synths and humans are about as close to one another as they're gonna get.

BUT: if I'm quite honest, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that all synths are just sterile across the board, and that the Institute didn't bother including reproductive capability when they were deciding how they would craft the Gen 3 synths. Simply not allowing them to reproduce would be the simplest choice. After all, I imagine allowing your remote-controlled minions to start having their own children can make them prone to disobeying you if what you want isn't in the best interest of those children. It's a massive variable to add into the equation when you're making devious plans.

The infertility would be easy enough to write off, too, in a world filled with radiation exposure and malnutrition; sometimes people just can't have babies and that's their lot. Even if someone's had children before, that doesn't mean that their fertility will be intact forever. Say your spouse and the parent of your child was swapped with a synth, and you went on to try and have another child, but failed. Would you automatically assume it's because your partner was swapped with someone built in a lab? Or would you just write it off as bad luck/declining health/some environmental factor? Stress can also contribute to infertility, and the Fallout universe is all stress, all the time. I imagine lots of people who want children struggle to have them. Doesn't mean their partner is a synth.

But hey, it's not an entirely unrealistic idea. Who's to say that the Institute wouldn't also have considered planning something more complex and long-term, like creating a number of synth men capable of impregnating people, of starting families and helping to build communities, synth men who could still be programmed to be very useful? A plan like that could be set up to go on even in the event that the bulk of their personnel were killed, their facilities destroyed. If you program these men to do what you want them to do (and let them think it's their own idea to be the way they are), give them the ability to father children, and send them out into the world, you could still have your desired impact in the future even if you weren't around to direct or see it.

Conclusion: I would call the likelihood of penis-having synths being able to knock anyone up "scientifically possible but not probable".

In terms of synth pregnancy, I think that could be both simpler and much more complicated, depending on which angle we're approaching the situation from.

As I mentioned above, I'm not sure what the purpose would be to allowing a synth with ovaries to go off and reproduce unless you were planning to use that reproduction to control people over a great amount of time. Even then, it's kind of a questionable plan, but the Institute loves a questionable plan! However, designing a synthetic human that can grow and birth a baby while making it seem natural would be a big ask.

It also doesn't have nearly as much theoretical "use" as a concept if Gen 3's being able to reproduce was desirable (which I don't believe it is, at least from the perspective of those who created them). Even if the children of synths were susceptible to the same control their parents are under somehow, so synths having babies just means more controllable pawns you didn't have to manufacture or program yourself, one synth could still only have so many babies at a human pace if they're the one carrying them all. A single woman has the maximum capability of one full-term pregnancy per calendar year, and that pregnancy usually only results in one baby. A guy can get a different woman pregnant every day, in theory. Multiple women. If they were gonna put resources into perfecting synth reproduction, I don't think it would be on this end of the deal.

Sure, if their scientists wanted to grow a real fetus (the product of combining a sperm and an egg, not a meat sculpture you made in the lab) in a literal tube or chamber, I'm willing to bet they could. Artificial womb technology seems easier to master than "growing whole bones and organs from scratch" technology. But the point is the realism, and building a female-presenting synth who doubles as an artificial womb and building a synth who passes as a pregnant or postpartum woman are different ballgames.

The synths aren't designed to change. They don't age, they don't get sick or tired. Hell, they don't even gain weight even though they can eat, which implies they don't digest what they take in. A body that requires little to run has little to give...how does one deliver nutrients to a fetus if you don't require them yourself, if you don't actually get anything from eating?

All that is to say nothing about the pure change in physical size that can occur during gestation, how your organs are quite literally shifted around as the fetus takes up more and more room in your torso. The Mayor McDonough replacement synth was quite literally "built" fat because he wouldn't have been capable of gaining enough weight to look like the original if they'd made him smaller. If the synth body isn't intended to change, even in body mass, how would a growing fetus fit past a certain point? I don't think it would, frankly, at least not in a way that wouldn't spell disaster for all involved. A pregnancy like that either wouldn't make it to term, would be incredibly negatively impacted by the lack of room to grow, or would kill the mother. Maybe all of the above.

Overall, their type of physiology doesn't scream "capable of withstanding the immense changes caused by pregnancy". Having a baby is literally the biggest change you could ever make to your body on all fronts; even your internal chemistry changes when you become pregnant in order to support the fetus. Your body is irreparably altered when you carry a baby to term, and it has to go through a series of changes to even get to that point to begin with.

It's not like when your "sperm wizard" gives a few pumps and their work is done; moving sperm from point A to point B isn't complicated or difficult from a scientific perspective. Pregnancy is incredibly complex and involves multiple intense processes directed by the brain and reproductive organs in order to come to fruition. You have to ovulate, have proper implantation, allow for all the change that occurs in the body over the course of gestation, and account for the trauma of labor and birth, even if by cesarean. The human body is also intended to support the infant in the postpartum stage...imagine a synth capable of breastfeeding.

The hormones of it all are by far the biggest consideration. Successfully getting pregnant would involve creating synths with wombs whose bodies also follow the 28-day hormone cycle, or whose endocrine system at the very least produces all the necessary hormones that allow successful reproduction. Even the previously mentioned breastfeeding ability is a product of hormonal changes that occur in pregnancy. Frankly, endocrinology (the study of hormones and the organs that produce them) is incredibly complicated for modern scientists to even wrap their heads around, so I think the folks at the Institute would have a big order on their plates if they wanted to theoretically make something like this happen. All these complex processes would have to be nailed perfectly in order to create a synth capable of a real pregnancy, and a synth that real is just a person who cost a lot more to create.

Sounds like a lot of goddamn work just so your literal slaves can have babies who will inevitably motivate them against you.

Conclusion: synth pregnancy where the synth is the one carrying would be much, much harder to pull off (so hard it wouldn't be an endeavor worth pursuing) and would likely end very poorly for both mother and fetus.

[girl-bateman]

Feeling a debilitating sense of dread and despair 🤨 Which probably means nothing😍👍

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

stumbles into ur inbox do YOU have any lovely ideas for marcyharm during her time as a prisoner in the castle

Nnnhnhnh i thought about this all morning because I already talked about Marcy being kept for years and years and years AND about memory loss which I think are my main ones but... one I haven't talked about nearly as much is Marcy being kept in the void for so long it seriously messes with her brain. Keeping her floating in eternal darkness, cutting off her sense of sight, hearing, touch etc making her feel, effectively, like a brain in a jar. If we stick closer to canon, she could have easily been kept there for months. At first she only feels fear but like... "normal" fear you know? Then she kinda starts to relax because it doesn't feel like anything. She doesn't even feel tired. Then the desperation starts, anxiety spiking up at random intervals, she starts getting hallucinations, mostly voices of her loved ones saying incomprehensible nonsense, but also random lights and colors and faces. The extreme anxiety comes and goes, she sways between feeling extremely afraid and feeling catatonic. At first she tries to think to keep herself somewhat entertained because the moments between the episodes of panic are filled with extreme boredom, so after she gets exhausted of mentally punishing herself for everything that's ever happened to anyone, she reluctantly tries to "play" videogames in her head, or "listen" to music, or "watch" movies. It somehow only makes her feel more distressed, because it highlights the lack of sensory imput, so she kinda... stops... after a while. First she stops thinking in words, then slowly images and sounds go away too. Darcy taking up most of her brain may accelerate the process. Maybe this was their intention all along, by putting her there: to "release space", so to speak.

When her friends release her, assuming we're messing with the timeline and they go back to Wartwood so she can recover instead of immediately going to fight the moon, it's... very rough. She does recognize them but she can barely remember their names. She can barely remember her own name. She recognizes it when they call her by it, but if you asked her what it was, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. She can barely speak at all. She's extremely weak because Darcy didn't take good care of her body - almost didn't sleep or eat, relied mostly on the armor to keep her body moving - so they need to carry her to Joe Sparrow and then pretty much do everything for her. She slept for like, 3 days, and when she woke up she could only lie there and do nothing all day. When before she could barely go five seconds without stimuli or she'd be bored to death, now her main activities involve staring at the wall for hours on end without thinking. She's also extremely touch starved and touch averse, silently longing to be held even though every single touch feels like Too Much and easily overwhelms her. That's the most reactive they see her, when she jerks away from a hand brushing her hair, or stroking her cheek. Giving her a bath was probably a traumatic experience for everyone involved.

Everything feels like Too Much. The lights, the background noise, even her own hunger drives her crazy. They give her a tea that makes her sleep to spare her the anguish. The only moments in which she feels any peace are the rare times in which she has pleasant dreams and not nightmares.

She remembers how to speak in a matter of weeks, around the same time starts walking and bathing and eating on her own, but it will take her much, much longer to start feeling normal again.

Also on that bit about Darcy not taking care of her body -> I feel like the Core is an extremely irrational entity, so it has no qualms hurting its host despite how stupid that is. It shuts off any negative stimuli the body experiences, and it's not like Marcy is there to feel it either, so it doesn't sleep until the body starts seriously failing to function, and unless it's eating for pleasure (which it rarely does as to not waste time), it feeds the body through tubes that only serve to supply nutrition but do nothing for its hunger.

Marcy is the one to suffer the long term effects of all the abuse her body suffered, of course. Anxiety and depression are just the tip of the iceberg, alongside PTSD. She probably suffers from some memory loss, panic attacks, psychosis, possibly hormone problems (weird headcanon but I just know this girl didn't get her period until like, age 17, specifically because all the physical trauma she suffered)... she feels tired all the time and goes from falling asleep on random places to staying awake for days on end. Lots of night terrors too, possibly combined with sleepwalking. I can imagine Anne and Sasha deciding to delay their return to Earth until Marcy is doing better because they just know Earth doctors won't know how to handle this, let alone her parents, especially if they still plan to take her away.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Ghostober - Day 11 [Copia]

“Why didn’t he come talk to me himself?” - 1.6k

Tags: Sad Rain, talk of Copia leaving, no cw/tw

⊹ Ghostober Masterlist ⊹

Practice had gone off without a hitch and everyone was looking in top form. Copia had wanted to make sure that during the period of rest, his ghouls were all in top shape for whoever was going to replace him. It wasn’t anything stressful, but they practiced once a week. One week was an actual practice and the next was putting on a full concert. Full uniform and everything.

They had just finished up one of their practice days and Copia was making his rounds to check in on everyone’s well being, making sure they were as ready as they could be whenever the day finally came that he was no longer their Papa.

Sure there were some tears at the beginning. But he knew the more he talked about it and explained to them that he wasn’t disappearing, he was just not going to be touring with them anymore, they would eventually be more okay with the situation.

And for the most part, they were. Phantom and Aurora were the most upset and still cried after every session. Which Copia had expected, since they were the two newest summons and still relied on him for a lot of things.

Mountain had been through this before with Terzo, and nothing was going to beat how traumatizing that was. Copia had worked with him a lot during the first tour while he was still a Cardinal, helping the poor giant through his night terrors and often spending the night squished into the back of his bunk - they were almost too small for a normal human being to start with, but the sheer size of Mountain made it seem like only Copia’s rats would be able to functionally sleep in there. 

At first the Earth ghoul didn’t quite trust Copia, seeing him as an imposter, an intruder. Someone unworthy. But luckily the forced proximity of being in the tour bus and on stage helped them bond, and now they were legitimately good friends. 

That’s not to say that it made this change any easier for Mountain, but he knew that Copia’s new role as Frater Imperator was important. He knew the new head of the Clergy would make time to come check on them, so he wasn’t too concerned or upset. He felt more happy for his Papa than anything else.

Swiss was more on the side of indifference, same with the girls. Swiss, Cumulus and Cirrus all confided in each other, and never really had the same connection to Copia the way the others had. They all more or less went about doing their own thing. Of course they all loved him, there was no doubt about that. He was their Papa after all, and the one who summoned them. It was just different.

Dewdrop was ready to shoot him behind the shed at any given moment. He hated him the day he first took over, and no surprise, nothing had changed since. Copia actually found Dew in his living quarters one day, excitedly packing up his things for him. The little fire ghoul could not give less of a shit, he was so ready for a more competent Papa. Praying that the new one would be much better, not that Dew thought he could possibly be any worse.

That left one little tadpole that had been very quiet today and ran off as Copia was making his rounds checking in on everyone else.

“Where’s Rain?” He had asked, his voice laced with concern as he looked to the pack for some answers.

“He’s probably gone to the lake. He’s been going there after we have practice.” Dew shrugs, indicating that it was common knowledge. He was more focused on changing the strings on his guitar than anything Copia had to say. Which is how Copia knew he was telling the truth.

“Yeah I saw him head out pretty quick today,” Cumulus said as she placed a comforting hand on Copia’s back. “He’s been out of it for weeks, he hardly even eats with us anymore besides snacking on the sardines Dew gets for him. I tried to talk to him and he opened up a little but–”

“Why didn’t he come talk to me himself?”

Copia hadn’t meant it to come out as harsh as it did. He knew the wince that flashed over Cumulus’s face meant it was a little more aggressive than necessary.

“I meant why didn’t he feel like he could come talk to me? After everything we’ve been through these past years?”

Cirrus just shook her head. “I don’t know Papa, but I know where he is. I think you should try going to him. You know how much he hates asking for help.”

Copia took a deep breath and nodded, gesturing for Cirrus to lead him to find their missing water ghoul.

Copia hadn’t even known that this particular lake had existed. It was a solid trek through the back forest to get there, but Cirrus clearly knew where she was going. Leading him straight to Rain, who they found sitting on the little dock Mountain had built for him, his feet swirling in the water.

“I’ll be close by to lead you back.” She said, almost in a whisper.

“No no. Not necessary. I’ll be okay, Sorella. Thank you.” Copia gave her his signature warm smile as she nodded and sent her off with a gentle brush of his thumb against her cheek.

Turning his attention back to Rain, Copia had wondered if the water ghoul had sensed his presence before he even got close to the dock. But the fact that he had sat down beside him and startled Rain so badly he fell into the lake was a clear indication that the answer was an outstanding no.

Instead of swimming back up, Rain sunk to the bottom, much to the horror of Copia who for a moment thought he was drowning before remembering when he used to do this in the pool when he was first summoned.

Leaning over the edge of the dock, Copia knew he didn’t have to yell for his voice to reach him, the ghoul was already listening. 

“Rain? Lus and Cirrus told me you were upset, so I’m here if you want to talk.” He gave the ghoul a moment before continuing, seeing the bubbles of Rain’s underwater sigh as an indication of acceptance. “Is it about the whole new Papa thing? Is that why you’re upset? I know it’s a big change.”

Copia left it there, waiting for Rain to come to him now. It only took a few moments before the ghoul broke through the surface of the water, his skin glistening in the water and spots glowing a vibrant blue under the water.

“Why didn’t you come talk to me?”

Rain just pulled himself back up onto the dock, shaking like a wet dog and coating Copia in slimy lake water but he tried to look unbothered.

‘I didn’t want you to worry’ 

Rain's voice echoed in Copia’s head as he dried himself off, but his mouth never opened. It was weird for Copia when the ghoul had first spoken telepathically, but Rain had explained quickly after that his vocal chords were too dry out of water to speak like everyone else. He could manage one or two words but he much preferred to speak this way.

“I’m more worried now, piccolo girino. I had hoped you felt safe enough by now to come to me with your troubles?”

Rain shivered as he felt his gills retract into his body. They automatically popped out when he was submerged in water, he tried to hide them in shame when he was in the pool but he had ended up inhaling the chlorinated water and was under Aether’s care for a solid two days trying to heal the burns to his lungs.

“I don’t want you to go, Papa.” Rain had admitted, using his few audible words to express his feelings.

Copia had just pulled the ghoul into his side, petting his head between his horns in a fatherly manner.

“I won’t be gone, little one. I will still be here. Think of it like I’m moving offices,” Copia had offered, his voice calming Rain with each word as the ghoul nuzzled further into his embrace. “I will still come to see you and the others. I just won’t be there with you on tour anymore but I bet if you asked Mountain nicely he would let you use his phone to FaceTime me if you need to.”

Rain nodded against Copia’s chest. Hearing his heartbeat was reassuring. Copia was still here, he wasn’t going to be killed. He wasn’t abandoning them.

“Just promise me you will lean on the others? They are worried sick about you.”

Rain had wiped a salty tear from his speckled cheek, pulling back to look at Copia and purr in agreement.

‘Thank you, Papa. I’m sorry.’

“Ah, no need to be sorry. Now let's head back for a nice hot chocolate and you can have a turn trying to beat me at Mario Kart. How does that sound? Just the two of us.” Copia’s hand wiped the rest of Rain’s glowing tears, the ghoul’s eyes sparkling under the light of the fading sun.

‘I’d really like that.’

“Then that’s what we’ll do. But first you have to tell me how to get back, because I didn’t even know we had this lake.” Copia laughed and Rain let out a little chitter before leading his Papa back out of the forest for some much needed one-on-one bonding.

Copia knew his gut had told him to pick up the tiny marshmallows for a reason.

*Piccolo girino = Little tadpole

A/N: I feel so bad for Rain, sorry there's a lot of my own lore in this one. Hope it was an enjoyable read! Not proofread.

[noona-clock]

Are You Sure? - Part 4

Genre: Exes to Lovers, Fluff, AU

Pairing: Jungshin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Epilogue | Words: 2,183

It was honestly nothing short of a miracle that you were awake and functioning right now (even if you were functioning at the lowest possible level) let alone standing in front of a mirror in your hotel room putting on lipstick.

Red lipstick.

Red lipstick was tricky to put on even on the best days, but when you felt like this? When you were running on so little sleep and hadn't consumed a single drop of liquid caffeine yet? When you couldn't quiet your mind because every single word Jungshin had said at dinner last night was racing through your brain?

You truly couldn't believe you'd even been able to open the tube.

And, of course, you had no idea how to tell Emily about all of this. The wedding party was having brunch this morning, and everything was cherry-themed -- cherry mimosas, cherry french toast, cherry blossoms adorning the table. Red lipstick was a must, obviously, and your instinct was to teasingly complain about it to Emily. Asking someone to put on red lipstick after having such a distressing conversation with your ex-boyfriend the previous evening was basically a crime!

But how could you? Bringing this up would undoubtedly ruin the entire gathering, and there was nothing you wanted to do less than even think of ruining anything related to Emily's wedding.

Still, though.

You had no idea how you could act with a semblance of normality. Jungshin's words were still stuck in your head, and you couldn't see them getting unstuck any time soon.

You leaving... everything you said... it was a huge wake-up call. I'd had no idea you were so exhausted, and I was so embarrassed that I hadn't noticed. I'm still embarrassed. And I'm sorry.

You hadn't known you'd needed an apology until he'd given you one, but no matter how much you'd wanted to say 'thank you,' you hadn't been able to. Jungshin had kind of just blurted this out after the two of you had been sitting in silence for a good five minutes, so you'd been kind of in shock hearing his words.

(And, side note, you hadn't been surprised in the least that Jungshin hadn't been able to last long without talking.)

You were so right. A relationship should be a partnership above all else, and you took on way more than I realized. You did all of the heavy lifting. I was a terrible partner, and I will regret that for the rest of my life. I'll regret... losing you. For the rest of my life.

Your heart jumped into your throat now just thinking about it.

How were you supposed to be normal knowing that your ex-boyfriend would regret losing you for the rest of his life?!

And Emily knew you too well enough. She would immediately catch on that something had happened, and it's not like you could lie to her.

You let out a soft sigh before inhaling quickly, holding your breath, and finishing up with your lipstick.

There was no way you were getting out of this, so you might as well just get it over with.

Okay, no, that sounds bad. You didn't want to get brunch over with. You were looking forward to eating delicious food with your best friend!

You just... weren't looking forward to talking about last night. For your sanity, you would simply tell yourself you wouldn't have to.

If your internal clock was correct, it only took about five minutes after sitting down at the pink and red, cherry-covered table at the hotel's restaurant before Emily announced she had to go to the powder room. And then turned to look right at you.

"Y/N, can you come with me?" she asked innocently.

But you knew better.

She knew something was up, and you were so tempted to say, 'Oh, no thank you.'

Instead, you smiled and nodded and murmured a 'Sure.'

As soon as the door to the restroom closed behind you, Emily whirled around on her heel, her eyebrows raised halfway up her forehead.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone quite serious. "Is it Jungshin?"

You'd already opened your mouth to reply with 'What do you mean?' but then she'd mentioned him. Your mouth snapped shut.

"Did something happen? Did you see him already?" she continued, obviously concerned when you'd quickly stopped yourself from replying.

So, you let out a soft sigh. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek.

And then you answered, "Yes and yes."

You heard Emily gasp, and then you felt her take your hands. "What? What?! Tell me everything," she hissed.

"We don't have time for everything right now, but I'll give you the long story short," you relented.

Emily simply nodded fervently, and you let out another sigh, this one deeper and longer than the last.

"You know that I moved my plane ticket so we wouldn't be on the same flight, but he ended up doing the same thing, so we still ended up on the same flight after all, and then we ran into each other in the airport and he asked if he could hop in my rideshare and he took my luggage and put it in the trunk without me even asking him to do it and he asked if we could get dinner so we went to get pizza and he said that me breaking up with him was a huge wake-up call and he regrets losing me and will regret it for the rest of his life and he has been doing a lot of self-reflection the past few months and is actively working on being more thoughtful because he never wants what happened to us to happen again."

Emily's eyes had widened after your first sentence, and her expression only became more and more shocked the more you told her.

Before she could say anything, though, you whispered, "I barely slept last night because everything he said kept running through my mind. I don't know what to do or if I should even do anything!"

"What did you say to him after he told you all of that?" she asked.

"Not much," you admitted. "I was too overwhelmed, and he didn't push me to say anything. In fact, I think his exact words were, 'You don't have to say anything or ever even talk to me again. I just wanted you to know that I don't and have never blamed you, and you were one-hundred percent right.' I did tell him it was nice to hear that, but that's about it. What do I do?!"

You had opened your eyes by this point, and Emily was now searching them with the most empathetic gaze.

"...Do you want to do anything?" she finally asked.

That... was actually a great question.

"I have no idea," you answered truthfully. "Am I constantly thinking about him? Yes. But I don't know if that's just because he's my ex and I'm seeing him for the first time, or if it's because... I miss him, and I still want to be with him. Y'know?"

Emily's forehead wrinkled as she knit her brows together, obviously concerned and worried about you.

"I'm so sorry --" she began in a quiet voice.

"No," you cut her off before she could finish that sentence. "Don't you dare apologize. It's your wedding, and I am absolutely thrilled to be here, and I knew I was going to see him. I was prepared for that. I just wasn't prepare for... this. But that's not your fault, and if you even think of apologizing again, I will cross my eyes in every single wedding party picture. You got that?"

Your best friend's expression changed from 'concerned and worried about you' to 'you're something else.' She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as a smirk tugged at her lips.

"Okay, fine," she relented. "I won't apologize, but I am sorry you're confused. And I am here for you, you got that? I'm almost a married woman now. I have so much relationship advice -- good relationship advice -- it's not even funny."

You chuckled despite what she'd just said then assured her with a quick nod. "Don't worry. I will ask you for every single piece of advice."

"Until I go on my honeymoon."

"Right, of course."

"Because I will be totally unreachable on my honeymoon unless it's a complete and utter emergency. Which it might be! If you guys get back together while I'm gone, that classifies as an emergency, and you'd better tell me!"

Just hearing the words 'if you guys get back together' made your heart skip a beat. You weren't sure if it was a good skip or a bad skip, though.

"Absolutely," you murmured. "I'll only reach out if... that happens. I think it's a big 'If,' but. Still."

Emily simply nodded before pulling you in for a tight hug. "No matter what happens, I'll always be on your side."

You hummed in reply as you hugged her back, a wave of comfort washing over you as you smelled the perfume you'd gotten her as a birthday present a few years ago.

No matter what happens, I'll always be on your side.

Honestly, that lifted a weight off your shoulders. You had no idea what would happen with Jungshin -- if anything happened at all! If you even wanted anything to happen. But no matter what did or didn't happen, you still had your best friend. You still had your family, your job, your apartment.

With or without Jungshin, you had a lot to be thankful for, and you couldn't forget that.

"I think that was the best french toast I've ever had," you declared, your arm looped through Emily's as the pair of you and the rest of the bridesmaids dispersed from the hotel's restaurant.

"Right?!" Emily gasped. "I'm going to be dreaming about it for --"

Her ringtone interrupted her, and when you glanced at her screen like the nosy friend you were, you saw Yonghwa was calling her.

"Oop, hold on," she murmured before accepting his call and bringing her phone to her ear. "Hey you."

Despite the fact your love life was nothing short of, to quote Winston Churchill, "riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma," you couldn't help but smile at the look on Emily's face, the tone of her voice as she spoke to her husband-to-be.

(And, yes, Winston Churchill had been describing World War II when he said that, but was your love life also kind of a war zone? Figuratively speaking, yes. It was.)

"Oh, really? We just got out of brunch, so I can swing by, for sure," your friend continued.

You tried to lean in a bit so you could hear what Yonghwa was saying, but Emily said, "Okay, see you in a sec," and hung up before you got the chance.

"I need to go to the reception hall to go over the place settings," she told you, tightening her hold on your arm just slightly. "Would you like to come with?"

While place setting approval didn't quite sound like the most fun you could have with wedding prep (that award went to cake tasting, obviously), you would never pass up an opportunity to both spend time with Emily and help her make decisions. So, you followed her as she changed course, heading toward the hotel's rather large ballroom where the reception would be in just a couple of days.

Your eyes widened as soon as you walked into the grand, beautifully decorated room, and your arm slipped out of Emily's as you stood in place while she headed to her fiancé.

"Wow," you whispered to yourself as you gazed all around. There were flowers everywhere, a team of people was hanging up strings of lights from each wall to the middle of the ceiling, and yet more people were carrying out tables and chairs and covering them with elegant sky blue cloths.

In short, it looked absolutely magical in here.

Just as you were finished soaking everything in and were beginning to make your way over to where Emily and Yonghwa were standing, you heard the very familiar click of an amp turning on.

Your eyes immediately shifted to a stage set up on the opposite end of the room, and what you saw on that stage made you freeze right where you stood.

Had Yonghwa not known or not mentioned that Jungshin's band would be in here rehearsing and doing a souncheck? Or had he told Emily, and Emily hadn't mentioned it?

Either way, your heart jumped up into your throat when you saw Jungshin slip his bass guitar strap over his head and plug in the amp cord.

God, why were musicians so... so... just so? Y'know?

Watching him pluck at the strings, gently tuning it, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration... your mouth went dry. More than a million butterflies invaded your stomach.

And you feared you were very much in jeopardy of falling for him all over again.

Shit.

Part 5

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #285

Despite the fact that the last 10-15 hours were objectively amazing, at the moment, I feel almost unbearably empty. It seems like the weight of it is crushing me, even though emptiness isn't technically supposed to weigh anything. Weird. I have a playlist on, consisting of a few simple songs, trying to keep myself afloat. Honey Trees, by Michael Bell. Taswell, Dreiton, and Aria Math, by C418. Invisible Hand, Champion, On the Beach at Night, and Weep Not, My Child - all by Curtis Schweitzer. I also have in there a song called To Faraway Times, from a game called Chrono Trigger; the version of it I like is done by a person named Malcolm Robinson. Maybe you'd like some of these. Or maybe not. Maybe you can give them a try and find out, if you want to.

…Sephiroth, I don't have a reason to feel this empty. Aside from the things that come with being a queer autistic AFAB with ADHD and C-PTSD, life is perfect. I eat when I want. I have two beautiful, wonderful husbands who love me. 5 adorable cats who love being near me. A plethora of awesome and supportive friends. More games to play and inspiring stories to witness than I know what to do with. Lots of beautiful teas to delight in. A warm house in a safe neighborhood. Clean water to drink, reliable electricity… the list of blessings in my life goes on and on and on. I could literally be here for hours listing them all. But that'd get boring, I'm sure. So I won't.

…I don't know what's wrong with me. It's a little scary, actually. Today, I caught myself thinking again about how nice it would be to just… stop… being. For a while. I haven't had thoughts like that in some time now. If they're cropping up, there must be a reason - a neurochemical issue that can be solved. I just… I don't know what it is. Is it the fact that I woke up to horrible cramps and lots of bleeding? Is it that there isn't enough sunlight for me to feel good? Maybe I didn't get enough sleep? Enough water…? Is there some nutrient I'm missing from my diet…? Is it the anticipation of getting 4 teeth yanked out the day after tomorrow…? Dealing with being in consistent contact with that acquaintance, who likely will never understand that I'm a full human instead of just a walking Google for his use? Some combination of all of the above…?

…

Well. I tried doing stuff anyways. After writing last night's letter, I had a really good Dead Cells run. I made it to the Astrolab again. And this time, instead of getting my ass kicked by the enemies there, I actually made it to the room beyond, called the Observatory. I took pictures; I promised you that I would get pictures in a recent letter, remember? Here:

...I streamed this run on Twitch. On my Twitch stream, I have a couple banners. One says, "Yes, I know I'm bad at this game. Be nice or go away." The other tries to tell people that the chat isn't easy for me to see, so I can't always respond immediately.

...Well... some person on the internet who was watching me fight The Hand of the King said to me that they "don't know why [I] say [I'm] bad at this game, because [I] parry like a god".

...I felt warm and fuzzy at that for a little while, but... then I felt a little badly about it. I tried telling this person that I am not actually very good; I am actually dyspraxic, and so I had to work a little harder to get this far than most would have had to. My progress has been slower than what a person with a normal brain with normal motor functions would have been capable of. I told this person that I still sometimes have instances in which my rhythm and timing are poor, that I still sometimes get overwhelmed and panic, that I still sometimes make mistakes and get overrun.

...Sometimes I still fall. Most of my runs still end in failure. I still haven't been able to defeat most of the bosses without getting hit. Although I did manage to defeat The Concierge without getting hit in last night's run, and that felt pretty good.

...

...I think I am afraid of accepting compliments because I'm afraid that if I do, then it'll set the other person up for having unrealistic expectations of me. They saw me while I was in a flow-like state, having a good rhythm, and being successful; what kinds of abuse might they sling at me, the very moment that I falter or fail to do the thing with the level of precision and flawlessness that they've come to expect...?

...When I think of these fears, I think of my mother. I get the praise from her as long as I can be perfect, as long as I can be someone she can brag to all her stupid little fucking friends about. But the second I slip up, the second I'm not flawless, the second that I behave like a human instead of an automaton, the second that I defy her unrealistic expectations of me, her perception of me does a 180 degree turn, and I go from being "oh so smart", "gosh how reliable", "so diligent and thorough" and "wow so creative" to "stupid", "oblivious", "ungrateful" and "disrespectful" in no time flat.

...I guess I'm a little afraid of compliments because... I guess I feel like it's only a matter of time before I become a disappointment instead. And... in my experience, I've found that when I am perceived as a disappointment, the thing that follows soon after is rejection or violence.

...

Anyway, I got my ass kicked by The Collector at The Observatory. I wonder, perhaps somewhat bitterly, how "godlike" this person thought I was as I was being tossed about the screen, if they were still watching me as I fell. I wonder how quickly their opinion of me changed. I wonder if they decided that they were wrong about me and that I really do suck at this game, after all.

...Or maybe that's just my old childhood conditioning, telling me that I have to be infallible and beyond reproach before anyone will think I'm worth anything. If my childhood conditioning is running the show right now, I must be pretty tired. I'm going to take a deep breath and recognize negative thoughts like those for what they are - abuser propaganda, fed to me in the past as a means to keep me weak, isolated, self-doubting, and easy to control.

...Sigh. It's very lame. But that's okay. We can defy the old things. We can remember what is real and what is good. I can still be perceived as good even when I make mistakes and fall down. And it's only unhealthy people who will respond to my inherent imperfection with violence, rejection, and hate. My worth is not defined by how well I can live up to others' expectations of me.

It's okay that I got my ass kicked by The Collector. It just means that I can face him in the training room until he stops kicking my ass. I'll do the same thing I did with The Hand of the King; every time I defeat him, I'll lower my stats by a single point, until I'm satisfied that I can defeat him, even at a significant disadvantage. Then, when I face him for real, it'll seem easy by comparison.

...I went to bed later than I should have, last night. That's probably not helping matters.

Well. My body was not in a great state when I woke up, in any case. Lots of cramping and bleeding, like I said, which was already anticipated and accounted for. I made the steak. And I made the weird garlic bread.

I seasoned the steak with my usual combination of spices - salt, pepper, paprika, and garlic powder. Can't go wrong with those:

I made mac and cheese, too:

I also made garlic and herb butter - this time with only half the garlic I normally use. I spread it on a handsome loaf of bread, split in half:

From here, I prepared the brie I got:

...This one is a triple cream brie, which means it's SUUUUUPER soft and gooey. And since it's a brie, that means the rind is also edible.

But... two things about brie. Very important:

The first one is that you DO NOT under ANY circumstances want to eat too much of it in one sitting. As far as I understand it, all the soft ripened cheeses have a small amount of listeria in them. And a little bit won't hurt you, but if you eat too much, you'll get a lot of it, and too much at once will take root in your digestive tract and cause problems. I only know this because... well. I stress-ate an entire wheel of brie in one sitting a number of years ago, and after the two-week incubation period, I ended up with a fever high enough to cause confusion and mild delirium. And then everything I ate passed through the other end just chewed - wholly undigested. It was a VERY BAD TIME.

-2513847 out of 10 stars, ABSOLUTELY WOULD NOT RECOMMEND.

The second one is, while the rind doesn't taste bad in its unmodified state, if you try to incorporate a whole brie, rind and all, into a sauce, the rind will make your sauce taste like the way ammonia smells. Or at least, that's what happened that one time when I tried to make a berry and brie sauce. I just combined mashed blackberries, sugar, and a whole wheel of brie into a saucepan on low heat and blended them together, and it should have been delicious, but... it very much WAS NOT. It was so bad that I had to throw it all away; it was not salvageable. I concluded that heating up the rind for more than a minimal amount of time makes it weird. Don't do it. It's bad news.

Anyway, so I cut off the rinds from the brie. It's really not bad, especially if there's still a decent amount of cheese attached to the rind:

...It's got a bit of an earthy, almost mushroomy flavor to it. The ammonia flavor is there if you're looking for it; it's not exactly subtle, but it's overridden by the other flavors, usually. It's not bad though, especially if you wrap it in something yummy to go with it, like roast beef or prosciutto or something:

The knife looked like this after I cut the rind off; you can tell it's a super gooey cheese just by looking at it. Mind you, this cheese was still cold:

...The rind tastes a little weird, maybe. But the cheese inside the rind is unbelievably buttery and delicious.

...Anyway, so the garlic bread was baked, and then I put the cheese on it; brie on one side, and muenster on the other, because M and J aren't overly fond of brie:

...We melt it in the oven, and then we stick the prosciutto on top after that:

From there, we cut it up into delicious slices:

...Here's the resulting plate of yummy deliciousness that I put together in order to try to replenish all the iron I'm gonna be losing over the next 10 days or so. I wish I could give you some:

...I kind of... floundered around for most of today. I didn't even play any Dead Cells. I'm hoping to tomorrow. But I've got a couple things to do tomorrow, so we'll see. I talked to a few people on and off. I have a friend in this space who talks to me regularly, and that's always delightful. And I have another friend who sends me heartwarming pictures on occasion; today it was a VERY cute caterpillar!!!

Even on days that feel empty and strange, I still gotta try to remember that there are good things. Even if the present is ouchy, and even if the future seems scary, we still gotta try to hold on to the things that are good. These are the things that give us strength so that the scary things are a little bit more bearable.

Towards the end of the day, I managed to snag a couple nice pictures of the sky for you:

I also managed to snag these pictures of Mogwai chilling out in my lap as I write this letter to you:

...Though I think I'm just about done with today's letter, I'll probably be stuck here in this chair a while; it is currently illegal for me to move, hahaha! Sometimes I wonder if I should have named him "Monkey", because he's always climbing all over me, ahahaha~!

It is a good "problem" to have. 🙂

Though I still feel inexplicably empty, you don't gotta worry about me. I know that states like these are only temporary until my brain sorts out whatever it's gotta sort out. I'll keep trying to take care of my body in the meantime until whatever's going on makes its way out of my system. And it will make its way out of my system; I know it because I've been here before, and I've been in worse spots before. Unpleasant states aren't permanent. You just "focus on what you love, right under your nose" (as The Horse says), and keep solving the obvious problems one step at a time until things turn around.

I'll be okay. And you'll be okay, too, as long as you don't give up hope for a better future. Keep striving for your safety, and for the safety of your friends and your planet and all the people on it, okay? Keep solving one small problem at a time. Keep making kind, good, loving, compassionate choices, even when it feels really hard to do. Keep looking for the magic in things, even if your heart feels heavy. Keep finding the good within yourself, even if you have doubts. And please... stay safe out there, with whatever it is you're doing.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[shanksxbuggy]

PLSOLSPLSSS share more of ur shuggy headcanons the last one was so good that it has been my lil entertainment in the head cuz i cant write for shitttt

Ask and you shall receive c: I didn’t know if my headcanons would be very interesting, so I’m glad to hear you enjoy it.

I started this out thinking hmm do I even have any more headcanons, but now I’ve written all this…

Sometimes I imagine them as cis, but sometimes I like to headcanon them as trans. Shanks as a transman, Buggy as nonbinary or trans or genderfluid or like a drag queen. However they are, they’re hanging with Ivankov and the rest of queer community because they just fit there.

Buggy used to be insecure about his hair and hid it under a beanie. He used to want a more ‘normal’ hair color like the other crewmembers.

Shanks is the better liar when he wants to be. He doesn’t lie as often, but he’s better at controlling and hiding his emotions.

Buggy first became interested in the circus by seeing street performers as a kid, and somehow felt the circus lights calling out to him. His heart longs for the stage, to be at the center of attention before a huge crowd. But he also hates being made fun of and isn’t very good at dealing with criticism. He became inspired to include circus techniques and magician’s tricks in his fighting style, light and airy and impossible to predict.

Buggy didn’t come up with being called the clown, the Marines did. He just begrudgingly went with it.

Shanks is a lot more touchy-feely. He likes casually having an arm around Buggy, having their thighs touching, resting his head on his shoulder. Buggy is generally fine with it in front of people he knows, but he’s not one for overly public displays of affection. He has a reputation to uphold.

After Buggy got his powers, whenever he used to get annoyed or mad at Shanks, he’d detach his body and float away where Shanks couldn’t reach him.

Buggy knows sign language, because it’s useful for subtle communication and even better when you’re someone who can detach their hands.

Shanks used to show his affection by teasing Buggy a lot, who’d take it the wrong way and thought Shanks was just being an ass for no reason to Buggy. It’s classic pigtail-pulling behavior.

Buggy was real upset about not being able to swim anymore, so Shanks promised to take Buggy out into the water whenever he felt like it, so he could experience the seas without fear of drowning.

One of Shanks’ favorite foods is lobster, which is hard for him to eat unless someone cracks open the shell for him. Buggy is always the one who unshells it for him.

Shanks is a morning person, Buggy is more of a night owl who consumes multiple cups of coffee to function.

Shanks doesn’t like sleeping by himself so he shares sleeping quarters with the crew. After Elegia, he started getting nightmares more frequently. Sleeping with a room full of people he can trust helps put him at ease.

When Shanks can’t sleep, he’ll drink a lot of alcohol until he just knocks himself out.

Same as Luffy, Buggy also has the special ability to turn people into allies, just in a slightly different way.

All the Red-Haired Pirates already know about Buggy because of Shanks’ tendency to ramble while he’s drunk. At first they expected Buggy to be this exotic beauty, they were shocked when they found out the love of Shanks’ life was a literal clown. But then again, Shanks always had…questionable tastes, so they should have expected it.

Shanks really loves Buggy’s red lipstick. He especially loves it when Buggy leaves red lipstick marks on his clothes and skin. Buggy does it as a way of staking his claim.

Despite his good looks, Shanks is bad at posing for photos. He’s not the type to try and utilize his looks, so he’s more awkward in photos than in real life. Buggy is the one who knows how to work the camera and loves showing off in front of it.

Shanks definitely isn’t the type to whine or complain about pointless things…except he will with Buggy, just as a way to get his attention or be pampered. Shanks turns into a big, immature baby around Buggy, but it’s because he feels comfortable enough to do so.

Shanks likes summer islands, Buggy prefers winter islands (his nose gets sunburned easily lol)

They used to swap clothes a lot when they were kids. As adults they don’t do it that much anymore, but when they do, usually it’s Buggy stealing Shanks’ things.

Shanks wears the same damn outfit all the time unless someone forces him into something else (usually it’s Buggy who does). Shanks also sleeps naked or just in his underwear most of the time.

Buggy trains Uta in the circus trade and teaches her tricks so she can include them in her performances. The Buggy Pirates and Uta do collaborations on the stage. It’s like an idol concert meets Cirque du Soleil and the result is mind-blowing. Shanks is not talented enough in that area to be an entertainer, but he is their biggest fan.

[detentiontrack]

what is PANDAS? /gq

This is a very long infodump but here’s my story!

It stands for Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Streptococcal Infections! Basically when I was 10, I got a normal case of strep throat. The same kind that every kid gets in childhood. I got on antibiotics and felt better, but overnight (literally overnight. I was completely fine the night before and then it started February 22nd 2016) I started having SEVERE. OCD and anxiety symptoms. It was debilitating. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or function. I was having panic attacks, constant obsessions and compulsions, terrifying intrusive thoughts, and hallucinations. I also started developing tics. I was 10 and it happened overnight, so it wasn’t likely obsessive compulsive disorder or Tourette’s, especially because I didn’t have a family history of those things.

After multiple doctors, a nurse practitioner finally thought to test me for strep antibodies and it was positive. I got started on high dose antibiotics that destroyed my teeth and digestive system, but after 11 months I was still getting strep throat every other week, which would cause me to flare.

At 11, I got my tonsils out, and it helped a bit, but then I started losing function in other areas. At that point, it had spread to my entire brain and it turned into severe encephalitis. I had constant violent tics, debilitating mental illness symptoms, and I was losing the ability to walk and talk. The right side of my body was completely useless and the left side wasn’t much better. I couldn’t talk without a stutter, aphasia, and forgetting how to speak.

At age 12, I got my first bought of IVIG, which helped a little bit, but unfortunately we had shitty health insurance at the time and they wouldn’t cover any more even though I was getting worse by the day. At this point we didn’t know I had encephalitis, we thought I only had PANDAS and PANDAS wouldn’t cause that severe of a reaction on its own. So it was extremely scary. They were testing me for everything they knew, but encephalitis, especially in kids that young, wasn’t super well researched at the time. I had countless tests and everything was coming back “clean”.

Eventually, my mom and I went to every doctor in California that would see us. Even the ones not covered by insurance. At 12, since we saw every neurologist and rheumatologist that would see me in our state, we went to Arizona to see a PANDAS specialist. She recommended me a lot of herbal medications that kept me alive and helped a lot, but since she was in a different state, she couldn’t prescribe any actual medication. But those herbal medications kept me going long enough. That’s when we found out I also had fibromyalgia and my thyroid had failed as a side effect of the encephalitis.

When I was 13, I saw a doctor who diagnosed me with POTS, prescribed me POTS medication, and did a lot of tests to try and find out WHY I was losing the ability to walk and talk. She did a nerve conduction test, MRIs, CTs, and a test where they removed huge chunks of my flesh and tested the nerves (idk what it was called?) however there was no baseline for someone my age for any of the things she was testing for, so we only had a set baseline for if things got worse.

When I was 13, almost 14, I couldn’t walk or stand without a cane, even with a cane I couldn’t walk for very long, and I was very nearly at the point where I needed a wheelchair full time. My speech and tics were terrible, I remember barely even being able to think or process what was happening because the brain inflammation was so severe. I FINALLY got in with a rheumatologist at UCLA who specialized in PANDAS, and he finally was able to get insurance to pay for a years worth of IVIG.

I was on high dose IVIG for a year, and it saved my life. Very slowly, I got better. My OCD stopped, I could talk again, my tics stopped, and I very slowly got back feeling in my body. I couldn’t afford speech therapy or physical therapy at the time, so I had to teach myself how to walk and talk again. 5 years later, I have 100% feeling and function in my right arm, and I can feel most of my right leg, except for my foot and random patches on my thigh and calf. I talk fine most of the time, but if I’m tired, I’ll start slurring my words and occasionally words for things will just. Slip out of my brain and I can’t remember them so I have to improvise. (Yesterday the word for pencil disappeared from my brain so I asked my sister for “the thing that’s like a pen but is gray and you can erase it”)

[deepdonutkid]

Matching wounds

Pair: Katniss Everdeen x Peeta Mellark (forever everlark)

Requested: none

Warnings: ptsd, nightmares, needles, tattoos, thought of self-harm

Summary:  During the Victory Tour, she is more than just temped to seek Peeta’s comfort once more. Yesterday, she asked him to stay with her and he did. She doesn’t want to keep bothering him again with her horrors, because she knows, he would do it without batting an eye and she already feels guilty using him like that. But after one terrifying nightmare, her longing surpasses her conscience. Just when she sneaks to his train compartment, she is witnessing his very own pain.

A/N:

This is my first THG fic, please be gentle with me, I’m still unsure, how to portrait the characters. It’s not beta read!

it’s absolutely innocent but doesn’t feel like… Somehow it came out more sexual than I had imagined, but the analogy was right there

The fic takes place in CF after Katniss had the nightmare on the Victory Tour and Peeta helped her with it. I kept it mostly canon compliant, but u know… she felt guilty for sharing a bed with Peeta and I thought, well she would have been a little more resistant at first.

Also I have this headcanon, Peeta loves all kinds of art. Painting, drawing, body art, architecture… stuff like that

gif from @everlarking-always​

By now I should be used to wake up sweaty, shaky and screaming, but I wasn’t. After all those years, one would come to think, it got easier, how wonderfully wrong one could be. I couldn’t handle this on my own accord and it was noticeable. Cinna, my styling team and finally Effie were giving me concerned looks.

The issue was handled Capitol Style. Effie shoved a pillbox in my direction, told me how much to take and send me off to sleep. Normally, I would trust medicine. It helped me a lot in the arena, the remedy for my physical pain. The burns, the cut, the stings, all of this went away with a cream or a plant or something else.

But when I had the first pill in my hand and rolled it around with my fingers, doubts were sneaking in. The bright pink pearl felt heavy, almost like a burden. Then I wondered, if I should lay my internal pain into the Capitol’s hands. Should I really do it their way? Just numb the symptoms instead of treating the cause.

Well, unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury to think about this further. I had to function tomorrow. Hold a speech and smile for the camera. Look happy, act happy, but don’t actually be happy. Snow had me right there were he wanted me to. By holding hostage of my loved ones, he ensured, I would do anything he wanted me to. Even if it was against my very own belief.

And I was better at following orders, when I got a decent amount of sleep. It was really sad in a way, I’m not able to describe, but that was harder to swallow than that pill Effie gave me.

Of course, it didn’t help. Maybe that’s why I was so conscious about it in the first place. Or maybe I was just lacking the faith for things to get better in order to be better.

Just yesterday, I finally found relief. When I got up in the morning, was looking fresh and almost healthy. The dark circles under my eyes were gone and I was able to read my speech without any mistakes. However, on the inside I was still itching. Something bothered me and I couldn’t point it out until dinner.

My remedy smiled at me across the table, asking me, if I was enjoying my food. Something about the way he looked at me, made me uncomfortable. At first, I misplaced it as the usual amount of awkwardness between us, whenever he exuded his undying love for me, but I was wrong.

It was worse. Guilt was eating me alive. Nibbling on my soul. Then, it hit me. I was doing him wrong once more. Yesterday had been a mistake. Again, I was feeding him false hope. Not sending him away, when he lay next to me, was like poking at his wounds. Maybe even more cruel. Sticking the knife right back in, after he started to get over it.

We were avoiding each other since we got home. Now, we were making some progress again, I blew that all over the place by being so… needy for comfort. Any comfort, no… his comfort. It had to be his. Nobody knew how to help me but him. I didn’t even need to tell him, he just the right thing without being asked to.

That’s why, I shouldn’t slither in old habits. He kept me warm during the Games, not more, not less. By staying with him, I would only hurt him. And I couldn’t see his heart breaking again. At the train tracks in the middle of nowhere, he left something behind, something that was good and pure.

“No”, I kept whispering to myself, while walking in circles in my room. I shouldn’t, but I wanted. And this pressing feeling in my chest was crushing me more with every syllable coming from my mouth. Really, I was forcing myself to stay, and I was losing that fight.

My urge to feel safe once more was stronger than any coherent thought that crossed my mind. So, I stumbled through the dark train in my pajama, searching for him. Every noise that late at night was scary and every light was burning my eyes.

It took me back to a time, where I was little and my father was still alive.  The house was so quiet and moonlight paved my way through the darkness. Then I would sneak into my parent’s bed. My father would grown and my mother sigh, but they took me in nevertheless. It was a bit cramped up there, with all of us in one bed. I never felt safer than.

Perhaps, I was longing to recreate that moment ever since.

Barefooted and brave, I was fighting the darkness. My steps echoed through the corridor, only being muffled once I reached the carpeted area before his compartment.

This need kept me going, even when doubts and worries tried to take me back. These thoughts were trying to bring me to reality, but failed. Only the sound of his muted pant could. Suddenly, I was very aware of my surroundings.

Before I knew, what I was doing, my hand was at the door knob and pulling it aside. The revelation was both, scaring and confusing at the same time. In the glimpse of a second, I had thought about every possible threat and I was ready to deal with any opponent.

However, nothing in my life had prepared me for this scene before my eyes. He was lying in bed, half-naked by the way, and was jabbing his leg with a thick needle. And even in this glim dose of light, I noticed how his fair skin was smeared with his own blood.

While I was still processing, what I just had witnessed, he was pulling the blanket over his leg.

“Katniss”, he hissed with worried eyes: “Why didn’t you knock?” He didn’t even seem surprised to see me in the middle of the night, but he was certainly concerned that I entered without making myself known first.

Well, I thought, he probably wanted to cover up himself. No… his mess. The things he did to himself and all the pain he has been going through since leaving the arena. I know, he must have been suffering just like I did. We had matching wounds… physically and mentally and while those on our bodies have washed away, the others would burden us for the rest of our lives.

But still, I couldn’t understand. Why would he hurt himself like this?  After the Games, after everything, why add more pain?

I walked over to him and pulled the blanket away. He was gripping it tight, but eventually gave in once I breathed: “Why?”

All the sudden, he was wrapping his arms around me. His hand was patting my back. Then I realized, I was crying. Tears were running down my cheeks. Once again, he was comforting my pain, swallowing his own.

“It’s nothing.”, he whispered against my hairline.

I sought this, but not like this. So, I shoved him away and snarled: “It’s not nothing!”

One second to the next, his eyes drew dark. He bit his lip and gulped, while avoiding my gaze.

After a while, he said: “Well, then it’s not like you think it is.”

“I know, what I saw, Peeta.”, I argued, crossing my hands before my chest: “You were hurting yourself. There was blood for fucks sake!”

Instead of answering, he just chuckled, which made me incredibly mad, and then he turned around to the lamp on his nightstand. The flash of light was filling the room and burning my eyes at the same time.

Once I got used to the brightness, I looked at him again. He was really just wearing his underwear. I turned on him.

Technically I had seen him with less, but this felt way more private then next to a river, while he was literally dying. This was intimate in a way I had not expected.

“Look at me!”, he insisted loud and instant, but I shuddered so hard, I heard him say pleading: “If you want to know the truth…”

I pushed the last doubts away and glared over my shoulder. Peeta was way too close to me. All those details I could see. Yes, all those scars were gone. Even Cato’s slash on the upper left leg, which I treated so frantically, was now perfectly normal skin. Maybe that’s why the black stain just above where the injury used to be stood out so much.

My hand was reducing the distance between us inch by inch. Finally, I placed my fingertips on his hip, felt his skin on mine. He let out a hiss, but didn’t move.

“Why is it black?”, I wondered, still looking at the wound. There was a darker line, which was even puffier than the rest.

Peeta blinked. Once, twice. Then he laughed again. I pulled my hand away, while he retorted: “It’s ink. I’m bored. I can’t sleep and the pain keeps me focused.”

Now I was the one to be lost in translation. “Katniss, it’s a tattoo.”, he chuckled: “It’s really not that bad. I swear, I wouldn’t do anything serious and leave you all by yourself.”

That was a lot to take in. I had a thousand questions, but I had to start somewhere. “What’s the idea? I mean… what are you trying to draw there?” My fingers are itching to touch him again. Somewhere in the depts of my mind, I still hear him panting.

He was suggesting me to sit down next to him. So, I did, even though I wasn’t as close to him, as I wished to be. “Don’t freak out, but…  it’s going to be an arrow.”, he confessed.

“Like my arrows?”

“Yes, like the one that saved me from bleeding to death.”

I frowned. Coming to think of it, all I did was trying to forget the Games, but he was putting a reminder of his worst moment there on his body. Like a constant warning. “Why?”

He took my hand and rubbed it with his thumb, which he had done before a million times, but only with cameras around. This was probably the first time he was showing me affection not meant for the public eye. His bright blue eyes were piercing me with a soft and tender look, when he spoke: “I want to appreciate surviving.”

How could he keep saying stuff like that? I couldn’t quite grasp it and started raising my eyebrows at him. Without any words from my part, he explained: “My immediate thought after Reaping was… I am not going to survive this. The only thing I could manage to do was to help you get out of the arena. And everybody else seemed to agree with me on that, whether it was my mother or Haymitch, Ceasar or even the Game makers. Except you.”

A gulp went down my throat. That was the very talk I feared. The next sweeping declaration of love was on his lips.

“I’m grateful to live, even with the tour, even with the uprisings, even with Snow threatening us and all the nightmares… because just months ago I was very convinced, I would be rotting in a grave right now. Somehow, I’m not. And sure, I wasn’t too excited, when you told me, what you did in the arena, but you still managed the unthinkable. By accident you proved all of them wrong, who said, the only thing I can do for you is die.

And when I thought of this, I realized what I had to do. As somewhat of an artist, I bleed ink and paint. So, I just grabbed a needle and started a while ago with two letters. K and E.”

At least he did not mention love, but he did put my initials on his body. I had no answer to all of this. There was just this big relief, he wasn’t hurting himself.

Peeta took a tissue and cleaned the spot on his hips with a bit of water. After a moment of silence, I fumbled for words to say: “It doesn’t look like the tattoos from the Capitol… I like it.”

“Yeah, didn’t you know, there are different styles of tattoos. Some of them are ancient.”, Peeta beamed: “I have a book about it back home. My friends gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday and I hid it under my bed most of the time, because I was afraid my mom would find out.” A nervous chuckle left his lips. “I only read it at night, but I always wanted a tattoo. Just not like the ones from Capitol.”

I didn’t know, he was so into that topic. Slowly, I began to relax, while an idea was forming in my head. “Can you give me one as well?”, I asked with a smile.

His eyes widened with surprise. “You want me to give a tattoo?”

“Yes, I think that’s what I said.”, I nodded.

“Which motive do you have in mind?”

Now I had to think. I was sure, he would try to stop me, but somehow, I really wanted to know, what it feels like. Having a reminder like this on your skin. But what I liked to be reminded of? Peeta chose his survival, maybe I should choose mine. Not from the arena of course, but the one, that made me who I am.

“Can you do a little loaf of bread?”, I wondered. A part of me was pleased with the idea, getting a tattoo similar to his. Just like our matching wounds. “And two letters… P and M.”

Suddenly he got up from the bed and walking around. Then he stopped, turning to me, he reassured himself: “You want this?”

“I do, Peeta”, I insisted: “Now hurry up, we don’t have much time left before sunrise.”

“Let me just…”, he mumbled, while running around in his compartment: “grab my utensils and we can start right away.”

Curiously I watched his movements. He was quick, but he sure knew what he was doing. “Where do you want to get it?”

The sound of low thinking left my lips. “Uhmm… I don’t know… nobody where my mother can see it… or Effie. I assumed you would to it on the same spot as yours. On the hip.”

Peeta cleaned his needle with alcohol and grinned goofily at me. “What?”

“You know you’ll have to undress yourself for that… procedure.”

Blood flushed my cheeks and I tried to hide it by looking away. “It’s no problem”, I said, like a liar and started peeling down my pajama pants.

Revealing my legs like that, made me squirm internally. On the outside, I played it down.

When he came back to the bed again, I opened my mouth to say something, but no words escaped. They were stolen from me. “Now lay down and try to relax.”, he demanded.

I tried to follow but while I was robbing over the sheets, my thighs got so warm. It was probably just the flurry. Once again, I gulped.

His hand reached my chin and was caressing it with such tender. “I promise it won’t hurt that much.”, he uttered: “I could never hurt you, not in a million years you know that.”

The sound of his voice ran shivers over my entire body. “No.”, I pleaded: “I’m ready.”

With the utmost care he hovered his hands over my chest, finally placing his fingers on my hip. A moan escaped my throat involuntarily.

He laid down between my legs. “Should it face you or me?” It was a weak attempt to calm me down, but it was helping me regaining my focus.

“Me”, I whimpered, mentally preparing myself of the pain to come. At first, I tried to look away, but then I was to curious, how it would look like. A needle entering my skin.

Heavy breaths shook my chest. Apparently so much, he noticed and glared up with a concerned expression. “We don’t have to do this, you know? Maybe you need time to think about this. It can’t be undone.”

I lift myself up a bit and protested: “No, I want to do this. I really do and there is no better time than now.” Every bit of me is possessed with the desire to understand him. His pain, especially. After all the things he did for me, I owe him at least that.

Peeta nodded firmly and lean back down. His underarm was resting on the inside of my thigh. Once the needle was soaked with ink, he put it in. There was somewhat of a resistance at first, but one the needle passed, it went right through. Since I was prepared, I didn’t flinch. My muscle tensed nevertheless.

There was this pain, not strong and overtaking like the tracker jacker stings, but exciting and new. It gave me goosebumps all over my body. So that was, what Peeta was feeling like. He covered it up, so nobody could see it.

But he showed it to me. Now we had a dark secret. One that only belonged to us and nobody else.

Bravely, I clung to the silk sheets of his bed as he proceeded. With every stich of the needle, I became more and more sure, this was what I wanted. What I needed. A companion in the darkness and who would be better than the boy with the bread, whose wounds matched mine.

After the tattoo was done, I was unable to move and fell asleep with Peeta next to me. He wrapped his hands around me and I felt safe once more. Once I stopped thinking about guilt and shame, it was ridiculously easy. This time I came to stay.

[wildfire317s-oc-box]

Demon slayer Theory:

What if the reason why demons are the way they are is because the overwhelming majority of them choose not to sleep because they think they don't need to? Think about it, because of their physiology they do not need to sleep in order to regain energy because Muzan's blood cells keeps their immune system, endurance, stamina and general physical healing in check which is part of what sleep does; BUT that is not all it does. Sleep also aids in mental health and hormone production, this is why a nap usually helps whenever someone is in a bad mood or having a bad day for whatever reason. And what usually happens when someone doesn't get enough/any sleep for an extended period of time? They become irritable slowly losing their ability to regulate their emotions, it affects their ability to remember things and their mental illnesses (if they have any; which most if not all of the demons shown certainly seem like they do) start to act up worse than normal and can even somewhat alter someones personality. Adrenaline: something that the body produces naturally as a method to aid in various types of survival, also triggers in the event of long term sleep deprivation and during such it kicks in after 24 hours without sleep. It also effects ones blood pressure, effects ones blood sugar, effects ones heart rate, improves the senses, increases ones alertness and decreases ones sensitivity to pain which would also aid in a demon's pre-existing abilities. Now for a human that is obviously not immortal, total sleep deprivation is deadly after a while but demons are immortal so I wonder how much more the lack of sleep and probably very heavy doses of adrenaline their bodies produce due to the lack of sleep, near constant fighting and hunting actually effects why they are the way they are. Perhaps this is why Nezuko is usually pretty neutral because she is usually sleeping and gets the energy from doing so that other demons get from eating. I would wonder if perhaps this is why Enmu (whose entire thing is sleeping and messing with sleep and if I recall hearing correctly occasionally does sleep just for shits and giggles) is comparatively in better control of his emotions than the other moons who are actually able to emote (i am looking very pointedly at you, douma) but there are other factors that generally make it hard to tell. But it makes me wonder; What would happen if at some point all of the demons just took a freaking nap?? Or even had a normal nocturnal sleep schedule??? Also I wonder how likely it is that Muzan told them they would be fine without sleep and they didn't need it to control them? Because while it was known for thousands of years that sleep is important for energy by the time demon slayer started, it was only being newly tested whether or not it was important for cognitive brain function around midway through demon slayer so none of the demons would have known better enough to even question what he said (except maybe Enmu because of his past as a human who would not have questioned him anyway because hes a freaking simp) and maybe Muzan didn't know either but with him having multiple brains, being alive for as long if not longer than humans knowing sleep was actually important, and being a huge science nerd I would not put it past him to figure it out much earlier...Maybe all of the demons would finally realize all of the BS Muzan is pulling and actually do something about it? Or maybe they would be more effective at what they do?

[furiousgoldfish]

I’ve managed to move out (staying with my extended family rn) and even though I made it out of that environment, I still have so much wrong with me. Anxiety, depression, ocd, ed’s. Anxiety being my worst issue. Just started college online this month and I still feel like I’m far from functioning normally again. I don’t want to use what I went through as an excuse though. It’s been about a year and I just want to be normal and socialize and not obsess over problems that aren’t even there. The idea of relying on anyone scares me and I’m trying to be as independent as when I was younger but how can I do that when everything sends me into a spiral. I quit my first job four days in even though everything was perfect. I couldn’t eat or sleep or think straight. Still have to retake my permit test. It’s been the definition of crippling but I know I could do better. And I’m trying. How can I just move on? I’m so sick of trauma being my entire identity. Does therapy really work? But I’m scared of taking meds because of my ed. I’m beyond lost.

P.s. Your blog has been incredibly helpful throughout all of this. One of the only times I’ve felt understood. Thank you <3

Unfortunately, it's the worst of trauma that we deal with after moving away. It's not an excuse, and you can't force yourself to be okay after just one year. What is happening with you is a proof that you've been put thru severe trauma and that it's not something you can quickly heal. I understand it's endlessly frustrating, devastating, and feels hopeless that you can't act normal, can't be completely independent and you feel awful relying on others - that does feel horrible.

I believe that what you need is more time, and more support. Even if right now you can't handle having a job, it doesn't mean it will be this way forever. Even if right now everything feels wrong, it won't stay that way forever. Recovery happens slowly and you have to accept it's own terms, and not push yourself so hard it brings you hopelessness when it doesn't work out. I think you need a space where you only do things you feel comfortable and safe doing, and then when you're able to relax, you can expand that space so that more things are comfortable and safe. When you're coming from that kind of space, you can gain stability and feel more confident, and also make a better risk assessment in what is currently okay for you to try, without falling into despair if it doesn't work out.

Also people quit jobs, mess up tests, have to retake permits, struggle with taking meds, even without severe trauma, and it's fairly common. You're only feeling such strong guilt and shame over it because the trauma amplifies your every negative experience into a disaster. It doesn't mean you're a failure, and it doesn't mean it will always be this way. Don't lose hope, give yourself more time and patience, with time you will manage to do everything right.

Also, give yourself lots of credit for escaping abusive environment! That is a big step that a lot of people struggle for a long time to take, and it's something you did, that is pretty incredible! You already are doing everything right, you're only human, and you can do only as much as a human being in your situation can. You're doing the best you can.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

ADHD meds, day three:

I took them as soon as I got up and ate a granola bar after. I immediately started work on animating and was able to fix 15 frames in 30 minutes.

So I ate way less than I thought I was going to for breakfast (not the granola bar; like breakfast breakfast)… which is good (I fucking guess) because impulsive eating is definitely a problem with me (I’m constantly bloated); but it kind of sucks because I like food and now even thinking about sweets is viscerally disgusting to me. :(

Whatever.

At around 10:00 AM I suddenly got sleepy and mildly dizzy. Towards noon, I started getting a mildly uncomfortable “ticklish” feeling at the crown of my head and the back of my neck, as well as racing thoughts. I wanted to plug my ears, clench my eyes shut, and curl up into a ball. Which is very odd because I was just sitting in the car, looking out the window, which is something I typically enjoy.

I guess I’ve felt slightly euphoric since day one… unless I’ve just been so emotionally numb until now that a normal “neutral” feels like euphoria to me??? Definitely some low-level bursts of anxiety throughout the day with no cause. I’ve been waking up much earlier, and wanting to immediately get out of bed; whether that’s because of the medication working, or because of the dry mouth, I have no idea. I now sleep with a water bottle; it is my lover. Ooh-la-la. I’m much more talkative and more able to speak.

I procrastinated about as much as I usually do yesterday; but I’m back on track today. I’m waiting on a phone line I need to make, which I did as soon as I got home. I feel hazy and unfocused at rest, but I was able to read something and retain the information without losing focus when I tried a little harder.

Like yeah I’m functioning but kinda icky feeling as the day goes on with weird dips in energy

[andromedaexists]

I've had a lot of friends reach out to me the past couple days and I just don't have the spoons to respond to all of y'all so I'm gonna say what I need to here:

I love you and appreciate you all. Your condolences and well wishes were received and mean a lot to me.

Now, for those who are not in the loop, I would like to take a moment to tell you about why I haven't been around for a hot minute despite really trying my best to be (under the cut, because good lord are there a lot of heavy topics on the table such as pet loss, depression, mental and physical health and the degradation thereof, stress and anxiety and more)

So, just in a brief bullet point recap, since about july of this years I have:

been switched onto a project at work that put increasingly more important responsibilities on my shoulders despite me saying that i never want to be in that position again

been switched back to my normal project in the middle of a hierarchy shift, therefore not knowing who to contact for literally anything (we're still working this out, btw)

started my final semester of college with 4 classes (reading & translating dead language #1, reading & translating dead language #2, novels in dead language #1, and the history of my native tongue that requires reading in the dead ancient form of it)

found myself being forced into monthly outings with my mother (a test in repairing our relationship that is going... okay)

somehow became integral in a discord (not upset, just not sure how i ended up here frfr)

being told on the first day of classes that i am having surgery ASAP on a cyst (we all know my history with cysts here.. it's not pretty)

the absolute atrocity that blue ridge ended up being. that was supposed to be my relax time, my time to unwind from everything else and i still have not recovered my loss of sleep from being up for 40 hours straight because of how horrible that weekend was

had my surgery cancelled because i'm too fat and then being ghosted by the doctor

had my heart absolutely demolished by a guy I thought I could love, only to be reminded that love is a luxury not afforded to people like me

broke up with my primary care physician because my health is degrading so fucking bad that i literally woke up feeling like i broke my wrist just because. and he still won't take me seriously. i can barely walk at this point, let alone stay awake and functioning longer than 4 hours at a time

had my employee review (that actually went well, but i did get my ass chewed out for low production)

had the world fall apart around me as any hope i had for humanity is shattered

release my book 3 days later because it was too late to change the release day by then

bury myself in a depression hole that i'm learning is normal for authors after their book releases

have to move my grandma into assisted living/memory care

have to immediately move myself out of my apartment with a weeks notice because the stress of living next to violent neighbors was finally getting to me (triggered my past with domestic violence) AND they started harassing me

had to undergo a medical procedure because i can't even eat food without my body rebelling

missed a month of classes because of depression

failed 2 latin tests in a row followed by bombing the midterm which was... great of my mental health especially considering i haven't received anything lower than a B or a C on an exam since ever (i was an honor roll/4.0/gifted studies kid)

Failed a History of the English Language exam because i cannot code switch between German, Latin, and English quickly enough (those are the 3 that comprise middle english btw)

a week after moving into my grandma's house I almost burned it down

found out that someone I really respected and looked up to as a friend was a Zionist

and finally: on Saturday I had to put down the cat I have owned for 15 years. She's undoubtedly older than that, but I was her owner for 15 years. She was my first ESA. I was able to tell my prof I wouldn't be in for the SECOND LATIN MIDTERM on monday because of it so now i have to take it tomorrow, but i couldn't get out of the greek exam or work. I asked for one (1) day off work and was told that my cat dying was not sufficient enough reason for the time off without using PTO (that i don't have because I used it on the absolutely horrible weekend that was Blue Ridge)

So yeah. I haven't been around. I've been more around on twitter but that's mostly me just reposting a bunch of posts about Palestine rn and other posts that my friends make. I'm so fucking exhausted and nauseous and just done. I haven't really written anything either because my work up until now has shown both the horrors of humanity and the underlying hope but I do not have that hope anymore and it hurts

Ironically since I've started working on Desecrate I've started wondering if this is my punishment for straying from God all those years ago. I don't think so but not I gotta add re-working through my religious trauma and my Catholic Guilt to my never ending list of things to do.

If you read this whole thing, kudos to you. I appreciate you all and I'm sorry for dumping it but I have not been able to really say anything about what's going on in my life because i just.. idk I don't have the words for it most days. I'm just tired.

[bumblebeebubbles]

New Life - Ch. 3

Summary: Elena is paralyzed from the waist down, having difficulties adjusting to her new life even after a year following her accident. Luckily Damon is there to support her and pick up the pieces.

Warning: contains graphic descriptions of bodily functions/fluids and (probably) inaccurate medical procedures!

Rating: M

Pairing: Damon/Elena

Read on: FF.net or AO3

.

Chapter 3

The doctor was clearly mistaken because the two catheters are still as uncomfortable as they were when they were first inserted. Damon assisted her in getting settled on the bed, but she is now forced to lie on her side because of the rectal catheter and cannot lie on her back comfortably either.

Damon offered to lie on the bed with her, but Elena is too embarrassed to let him get that close. Because of her situation, she doesn't know when she'll be able to look him in the eyes without flushing. So Damon left her alone, but she knows he went into the living room or kitchen. He is probably organizing her medications and other medical supplies, and after that he would prepare the diet meal suggested by the doctor for tomorrow. This means no fatty or oily foods, which she normally enjoys eating; instead, she can eat vegetables, rice, and regular chicken breast to help with her incontinence.

Elena closes her eyes and tries to relax as much as her circumstances allow. The tubes are extremely uncomfortable, as is the position she is in, but she knows she can't change it, and she can also feel the fatigue of being alert, examined, and humiliated all day. Fortunately, she hasn't used either the indwelling catheter or the bowel catheter so far (she doesn't have control over them anyway) and hopes that she won't use them while she sleeps either.

Slowly, fatigue sets in, and she falls into a deep sleep, trying to put the events of the day behind her.

-/-

Damon wakes her up a few hours later, but it appears that her wish has not been granted, and her bladder has let go while she slept. She looks at the digital clock on the bedside table and notices that it's 8 p.m.

When he removes the covers from her, Elena closes her eyes resignedly, realizing that her collection bag is nearly full. Damon looks apologetically at her as he puts on medical gloves and reaches for the tube to remove the catheter from her urethra. "I'll be quick, sweetheart," he assures her, and Elena simply nods.

Damon begins to pull the tube out of her urethra, and Elena grunts. She breathes a sigh of relief as soon as the catheter is removed, and Damon wipes her vagina as well. Unfortunately, her relief is short-lived. Damon prepares a new catheter and rubs some lubricant on the tube, then inserts the new catheter with a decisive motion. Elena groans and closes her eyes in discomfort.

"Hey, it's over," he says, and Elena takes notice of his kind smile. She turns away, unable to overcome the humiliating feeling.

Damon, oblivious to her state of mind, sits next to her on the bed and strokes her hair. She immediately feels better after inhaling her favorite scent on him, musk with a hint of honey. Then she notices Damon has changed into his pajamas and opens her eyes. "Wha-" she wants to ask, but Damon answers her as if he can read her mind.

"I give you a pass on dinner this time, and I'm actually sleepy," he says naturally, and Elena blinks. She didn't believe Damon would still want to sleep next to her.

Elena isn't sure if she'd want to sleep next to him. So many things could go wrong. Things that would most likely scare him off.

"Damon-"

"No. Don't even bother finishing that sentence. I told you it doesn't bother me. None of it. If anything comes up, I'll be here to help," he gently scolds her and kisses her cheek.

Elena looks at him mortified.

"No, you-"

"Yeah, I can. I thought we're past you trying to shield me from it and I want to do this for you."

She doesn't know what to say and instead nods, trying to hold back tears.

Damon is on the bed next to her, but they don't touch. Then, hesitantly, he moves closer to her, resting his forehead on hers, but taking care not to touch the rest of their bodies. She knows deep down that he is lying in this manner to avoid causing her further discomfort, but doubt creeps into her mind. She closes her eyes and listens to Damon's reassuring words that everything will be fine and that things will soon return to normal. But she is aware that this is a condition that could reappear at any time. Still, she tries to be more optimistic for Damon's sake.

They both fall asleep gradually, her last memory is of Damon placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

-/-

She awakens a few hours later to an unpleasant feeling, but as soon as she opens her eyes, she realizes it is morning. She feels the need to fart, but for some reason, it causes her great discomfort. She then remembers she has a catheter in her rectum, which is causing gas in her bowels that she is having difficulty getting rid of. Her predicament doesn't help problems with her hemorrhoids, and with a grunt, some of the gas from her anus escapes through her catheter. Unfortunately, this was not the main source of her discomfort, and in the meantime, Damon is waking up.

"Elena?" he asks, a little sleepily, but she knows he can tell she's in pain as he sits up in bed. He looks at the clock before turning his gaze back to her "Do you want me to leave or stay in case of...?"

Elena senses the uncertainty in his voice and knows why. He wishes to assist her, but he prefers to leave the decision to her. Elena loves him even more because of it.

Another tight feeling in her stomach washes over her, and all she could do is nod to him to stay while farting again, this time audibly. She blushes, but Damon doesn't seem to care about that, only concern swimming in his blue orbs.

Her anus is aching from the hemorrhoids as the gases try to burst out of her and she reflexively grabs for her backside to soothe the situation but Damon leans over her quickly. "Elena, don't," he adds in a warning tone and takes her hand away.

He pulls the blankets off her and then goes behind her back to examine her bowel catheter. She knows there are no stools in there yet, which would have woken her up. Damon comes back into view, then lays a soothing hand on her shoulder. "I think you're about to have a bowel movement. Do you think I need to help the process, or it will come out?"

"I...I don't...I don't know," she replies between grunts as the tightness in her stomach doesn't relieve. She doesn't know what form the stool will come out in.

Another fart leaves her anus and she groans again.

"You're quite bloated, sweetheart. I reckon you'll have a loose stool this time. Probably the result of the enema yesterday." he informs her and Elena has a similar thought. She's just hoping it doesn't turn into a mild case of diarrhea.

"I need to turn you onto your stomach, which may help, especially if we can spread your legs a little."

Elena nods, despite the fact that she knows moving will be torturous. Damon grips her left leg at the bend of her knee with one hand and her shoulder with the other, rolling her onto her stomach slowly. The indwelling catheter is adjusted by Damon so that it is between her legs rather than her resting on it. He places her legs in a frog-like position, pushing them up to her sides slightly. "Ah...Uh," Elena grunts as the rectal catheter moves in her with the repositioning.

"All right, this might help," Damon says, but she isn't feeling that relieved just now.

They wait at least another 10 minutes, but apart from a few farts, no stools have come out so far. Damon massages her lower back a few times, but it doesn't have much effect.

He lets out a sigh. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to do it," he says apologizingly to her, who inquires as to what.

"The doctor said that if this were the case, the rectal catheter would need to be pushed up a little to allow the stool to flow more easily and to trigger evacuation."

Elena wants to protest but understands she has no choice.

"All right, here we go," he says, and Elena feels Damon's touch on the catheter. Her back tenses as he starts to push the tube up. "Ahh," she grunts, as her legs begin to spasm slightly.

She is aware that the spasms are more common during her bowel programs, largely because of suppositories and digital stimulation in her rectum and anus, upsetting her nervous system.

Damon finally stops pushing the tube up, and Elena feels the change. The stool passes through her bowels, and a bit lands in the collection bag, followed by diarrhea leaving her rectum. Her bowels empty in a farting fit, so uncomfortable that she grips the pillow under hir head with her hands, her legs still spasming and her back straining. After a few minutes, it seems she is empty, and Damon checks her to be sure. Slowly, he begins to pull out the tube, and Elena grunts as it irritates her hemorrhoids.

The next second the catheter leaves her anus and she lets out a sigh of relief. She knows, and feels, that her anus is now wide open and spasming as well, and she hopes that mucus won't flow out through it. Damon immediately but gently wipes her down, using at least 6 wipes, and takes her soiled catheter out of the room. She knows how exposed she is right now and tries to move to cover up herself, but Damon comes back and kneels down, placing a kiss on her hair. "It's almost over" he whispers as she shuts her eyes for a second.

Then she notices he's holding a new catheter, which he will insert into her rectum in a moment.

"Wait a minute, please," she begs, enjoying the fact that her hemorrhoids are not being forced against anything.

At that time, her bladder releases and warm pee oozes from her urethra and into her collection bag.

Damon swiftly changes the catheter again, re-powders her genitals, and pushes the tube up her bladder.

She wants to take advantage of the time until she has to wear a new rectal catheter and find comfort in Damon's closeness. She hasn't admitted it to herself yet, but inside she's so grateful he's by her side and won't leave no matter how difficult their situation as a couple is.

She would do anything to be "normal" again and offer Damon anything he wants if there were no boundaries to their lives and their relationship and if they could make love whenever they want.

But sadly, life has dealt her a bad hand and she needs to get used to the circumstance where there will be ongoing impediments in her life. She just hopes that Damon's love is strong enough to hold on to her.

It's been a long since she could feel his skin against her, how her breasts were bound by his palm, how he filled her so perfectly. It had been a while since they had complemented each other and she misses it so much.

Damon plants a final kiss on her forehead before standing beside her and telling her he will prepare the meals for the day. Elena doesn't know what to make of this but is grateful that she still has some time remaining without the catheter.

But about ten minutes later, Damon returns, still carrying the rectal catheter and appearing contrite. She takes a long breath and exhales resignedly.

"Okay baby, let's get this over with," he says and goes around her back.

With one hand he parts her buttocks and with the other, he smears lubricant on her puckered anus, the chill of the jelly sending shivers through her. The next moment, she feels the end of the tube and Damon slowly pushes the catheter. She grunts as the tube goes higher and higher inside her, her back tensing as the catheter is fully inserted. Damon places a collection bag over the end of the catheter and covers her with the blanket.

Damon appears in front of her and bends down.

"I'll check back in a couple of hours to see if your bladder has let go, till then hang in there, sweetheart, and get some more sleep. I'll bring your lunch soon."

Elena merely nods, trying to get used to the ache, but just can't. Slowly, she feels drowsiness take hold again and she drifts off to a dreamless snooze.

-/-

A few hours later she is having her lunch, which is not her favorite, and although she knows Damon has tried, but even a Michelin-star chef couldn't make more out of simple chicken breast and rice without seasonings and whatnot.

Just as she is swallowing the last meal, her bladder lets go and the collection bag is filled with urine.

She also signals to Damon what has happened and he pulls the blanket off her. He slips on a rubber glove and gently pulls the tube out. Elena tries not to make a sound at the discomfort but fails. He disposes of the used catheter and wipes her genitals with antiseptic wipes.

Elena continues to prepare mentally for another catheter to be put in, but Damon pulls the blanket back over her.

"I don't think it's necessary to reinsert the bladder catheter for a while, you'll be fine for a few hours," he winks at her and Elena furrows her brow, but internally she's delighted to have at least one less inconvenience to endure.

She looks up at him and notices he has a large smile on his face and before Elena can ask a question, he's on the bed next to her and kissing her.

"Mmhm," she lets out in surprise, but swiftly, almost instinctively kisses him back.

They both lie on their sides, Damon deepening the kiss and she's relaxing into the bliss.

"I want you," he murmurs between kisses, then pulls away slightly and looks deeply into her eyes.

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Is he actually saying what she thinks...?

"Damon..." she gasps, then closes her eyes. "I want you too, more than you know, but-"

"Shh," he hushes, fingers over her mouth, love swirling in his eyes. "I know. you think it's not possible and even Dr. Smith's said that. But I love a challenge."

There's a playful glint in his eyes, too, and then his hand slides lower from her chest. Elena closes her eyes as his fingers are now on her lower belly and slowly reaching her center. She hisses slightly as his fingers start playing with her, her skin a little sensitive from the catheter.

Damon senses this and carefully starts to stroke her.

She wants to inform him about her concerns, but he starts moving her fingers faster and quicker and Elena hisses again, this time because of the pleasant feeling.

She wants him to make love to her more than anything, but she doesn't know how to tell him that it might not be possible in this situation.

"Damon...I can't," she confesses in a low voice, but he silences her with another kiss.

"Let's try something else. I know it sounds impossible, but be on top for now. I know it won't be practical on your back right now. I'll help," his confidence hasn't yet stuck to Elena but she wants to believe they can do it.

Damon takes his hand off her vagina and lies on his back. In a flash, he strips off his jeans and shirt and is separated from being completely naked next to her by only a pair of black boxers. Elena'ss eyes settle on his perfect chest and abs and she caresses down his stomach with her hand. His eyes close for a moment and a smile appears on his lips.

Elena is feeling proud of herself for creating that smile on his face, and then he swiftly gets rid of his boxers as well.

She swallows and is eager to have him delve into her warm center.

It's as if he is reading her mind. he pushes himself closer to her, lying on his back, then reaches under her arms and looks up at her. Elena understands what he wants, to help her, so she can lie across Damon.

She takes a deep breath, knowing that this change of posture will be difficult because of her catheter, but nods and carefully begins to move position.

She groans as the catheter begins to move in her rectum and her strained back shifts position.

After a few torturous seconds, though, she is lying on Damon and attempting not to put all her weight on him, trying to use her arms to lean back on his chest. Her rear, meanwhile, is between Damon's thighs, her back still strained.

Damon looks up at her, warmth in his eyes, then runs his hand through her hair. He slides down a little and reaches between them. Elena feels her the tip of his penis on her vagina as he aligns himself with her.

Elena uses her upper arms to push herself forward and with that motion, they come together. They both let out a sigh, but she realizes that this is not fully comfortable for her. With each thrust, the catheter tightens in her buttocks, it would be better if her legs were spread wider.

As if Damon is reading her mind, he puts his legs under her knees and slowly starts to spread her legs. Elena groans as the catheter moves inside her, but feels a little more comfortable. He positions his legs so they don't entangle with hers and touch the catheter. Damon presses a kiss to her lips and then he starts thrusting again, this time feeling better for her too. The motions aren't the most graceful, and each thrust is accompanied by an uncomfortable sensation alongside the good feeling, but Elena knows that comes at a price.

She's not complaining, because it's getting better for her, even though she's slower to reach a state of ecstasy. The thrusts are becoming less erratic, Damon is encouraging her with his movements and kisses and Elena knows it feels good for him too as his moans deepen. They are getting closer and closer to climax and with the next thrust Damon reaches ecstasy and she follows after a few seconds before immediately a small amount of gas leaves her rectum and with ecstasy, a small bowel movement begins.

Elena comes amidst a farting fit, then fecal matter escapes her rectum and falls into the catheter's collection bag. Above Damon, she starts to tremble slightly as even more gas leaves her anus, but Damon merely reassures her and whispers nice nothings in her ear.

She grunts as the bowel movements subside, but Elena doesn't regret making love, even if it is now quite uncomfortable for what is happening to her.

He stays with her till her bowel movements come to a finish, her legs spasming slightly and her head buried in Damon's shoulder.

When it's over, he drops one last kiss on her forehead, then slips carefully out from under himr and puts on his robe.

Drowsiness takes over again, the lovemaking and the bowel movements have absorbed all her power. She knows Damon will come back soon with a catheter, but she can't keep her eyes open, and her hemorrhoids won't allow her to fall entirely asleep.

It's only been two days, but she's already fatigued to the point of exhaustion. She can only hope that she can actually manage this issue better.

[stink-gremlin]

Top Surgery Diary: Day 5

Owie owie. Definitely in a lot more pain than previous few days. Had to take some extra painkillers because my chest was horrible. I’m also waking up at like 5.30am and going to bed at like 8pm this surgery has fucked with my sleep schedule man. Don’t get me wrong the insomnia I’ve been used to for the past two years isn’t the healthiest either but getting tired immediately after dinner is a joke man.

Anyways it’s been almost a week since my surgery so here’s some reviews of the shit I bought (no particular order)

Mastectomy pillow: 8/10 it’s a fucking lifesaver to have on your chest so you’re able to play video games/eat/go on your phone and still function like a normal human being

Pregnancy pillow (big tube shaped one): 100/10 it’s the comfiest thing ever and an absolute game changer frfr. I’m not a back sleeper but I have to due to the surgery so the pregnancy pillow helps me stay in place on my back. It’s also stupidly comfortable even when I wasn’t sleeping on my back before the surgery like that week I had the pillow before my surgery was some of the best sleep I got in ages it’s like a huge warm hug.

Wedge pillow: 7/10. An unsung hero fr. This mf is so much more comfortable for sleeping at 45 degrees instead of piling a bunch of pillows behind your back. I don’t think I would’ve been able to sleep nearly as well without it

Camping wipes: 4/10 honestly I’ve only really used them for my face because there’s no way for me to use them on my arms just yet cuz of bandages and sponges and shit so they’re not done much so far.

Portable bidet: 1/10 I haven’t used it at all. Like if you already have a bidet all the power for you but don’t get a camping one because you think you need it you really don’t you can go to the loo just fine without it.

Crocs: 8/10. Don’t think this counts as a top surgery expense but I haven’t been able to wear proper socks or shoes and I’ve been living in these fuckers ever since -2 points is for the squeaking sound they make because I’m walking in them with no socks on

Dried mangos: 10/10 no more constipation what more can I say

One thing I kinda wish existed was a way for me to carry my drains better. Atm I’m just carrying them around in a shopping bag and they’re really cumbersome but I dunno how to combat that really.

[rjalker]

almost forgot to write down my dream since it took so long to hook the wifi back up.

wow brain that sure was philosophical too bad it's wasted on meee

Anyways, feel free to use this as a writing prompt >.>

there was a group of people and they were all together as one group, friends or family or something like that, and they as a group discovered what they thought was an injured person, who'd fallen down a steep hill and injured its leg so it couldn't walk without help.

And people being people, they volunteered to help carry it back to the cave they were all camping out in (because they were poor, because they were camping for fun, or because it was the apocalypse, I don't know. I feel like it was post-apocalypse somehow.)

They spent three days and two nights talking to their guest, getting to know it, asking it where it'd been and sharing jokes. Their guest was friendly and open and was happy to share any information it could. They bandaged the wound on its leg and set it up with pillows and cushions so it would be comfortable sitting or lying down while it healed.

On the fourth morning, the morning person woke up before everyone else, like always. They went about their morning routine like normal and eventually everyone else woke up too. Except for their guest, who still seemed to be asleep. They were all fine with this, it's not like they had a schedule to keep, and sleeping would be good for healing, right?

Well. Eventually they decided to wake their guest up.

only to realize that it was dead.

And not even just "dead", it was completely immobile, frozen like stone. Like it had never been able to move in the the first place.

None of these people had ever seen any real dead people before, but they knew rigor mortis was a thing, so, shocked and upset, they assumed that that's all this was, and after a while of just...flipping out and trying to figure out what could possibly have happened to kill their friend (They hadn't had any open wounds for infection, hadn't seemed sick, hadn't been bitten by anything or eaten anything that could have killed them, hadn't shown any signs of allergies, nothing!) they collectively tried to get their wits together and decided to find a spot to bury it.

They didn't have any shovels or real digging tools, though, so that plan was quickly thrown out when they realized exactly how big of a hole would have to be dug to fit an entire body into it, so they instead opted to gather as many rocks as they could, dug a wide hole as deep as they could, and carried the body there. They covered it with the soil, and then piled the rocks they'd collected on top, not even entirely sure what the purpose of this was, but they'd seen it in movies and thought it'd be more respectful than just leaving the body out in the open somewhere, especially because they didn't want anyone stumbling upon it without warning.

And then...they got on with their lives, saddened and confused and scared but there wasn't anything they could do about it. They brought bucketfulls of water up to the cave to wash the parts their friend had touched in case of germs, and then just...kept on doing whatever it was they did all day.

At some point later, they met another group of travelers, who went on to tell them stories of robots who'd been created by "the DC" before the world ended, who could still sometimes be found wandering around if you got lucky. They looked like people, could walk and talk and could even eat and drink realistically. They were chatbots given the ability to walk around and move on their own, they could make facial expressions and everything...but they were still just chatbots.

They didn't really know anything.

They didn't know that they existed in the first place, let alone that their bodies were made of a synthetic material that could function almost indefinitely...as long as it was constantly moving in some way, flexing and stretching and reshaping the material.

Like walking, for instance.

The chatbot they'd found and thought they'd befriended was not aware of the fact that sitting and lying almost perfectly still for three days to help its injured knee heal would be enough to kill it. The material it was made of had to be kept in constant motion, or it would start to crystalize, and if it hardened past a certain point, the mechanical "brain" of the robot would be destroyed.

None of them had known that in trying to help the chatbot, they'd be assuring its destruction.

And it wasn't a person, it was just a chatbot, so it hadn't even been aware of the fact that it was dying. It wasn't even aware of the fact that it existed in the first place.