#people slipping through the cracks: but you guys should focus on the ppl who REALLY need it!!!!! I’m literally fine *dies of completely

[tomatoluvr69]

Ohhhhhh my goddddddddd so I’ve basically been to the doctor three times since turning 18 and aging out of the pediatrician because of my horrible doctor fears and issues. So it’s a MOMENTOUS occasion and the culmination of years of glacial self-work that I felt ready FINALLY READY to sit down and make a doctors appointment for a routine visit!! Like that is give or take a decade in the making…….and all the ethereal alchemical elements were correct so I could finally do it this morning. But the clinic is closed and you can only do it weekdays ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ ok guess I am going to the doctor in 10 years probably. See you 2034

[ventrue-rosary]

33. This is gonna hurt. (bonus points if you make the two ppl partners :3 helping one another)

Thanks nonny! Autumn is my own, Kevir belongs to @theasexualityfandomI 

This one’s been sitting in my inbox for a while so have it in all it’s undrafted mediocrity 

Ko-Fi

Since that damn fireball Autumn had felt everything far too much. The pain, the loneliness, the guilt–it all piled up until it suffocated her, stealing her breath yet not having the mercy to kill her. She remained in the land of the living, dragging herself from day to day as the agony only worsened with each new morning without Winter, and with the words of her mother’s cruelty driving a dagger closer to her heart, inch by inch. Autumn wanted to feel something, anything else. 

Waterdeep fell victim to a hard winter, driving most people to seek the comfort of crackling hearths and bellyfulls of cheap ale, particularly at evening when even the water froze over. 

It is still a foolish thing to wander through the most dangerous areas of Waterdeep at this time of night, when only the vilest scums braved the cold winds in hopes of finding easy prey. Autumn normally is a far cry from easy prey. But without her weapons or a general regard for her safety, tonight’s a different story. 

Autumn walks without an exact destination in mind, winding through the streets and alleys, letting the cold night air burn her lungs and clear her mind, as much as possible as the sound of drunken voices and music stream from the various taverns and inns. She finds herself drawn to the a particularly raucous one, named The Weighed Anchor. From the open door pours out the orange light from the hearth and the many, many torches and candles lighting the interior. People laugh, talk and cheer, washing away the days worries with celebration. She wonders how many tankards it takes to reach such levels of elation. 

She steps inside, enjoying the rush of warm air, which caves to a small knot of anxiety as many eyes fix on her. Though small in stature, her wings and horns always draw attention. People part for her with nudges, whispers and more than a few snickers. She feels the swell of anger that simmers beneath her skin as she makes her way to the bar.

The barkeeper, a stout hardy human wearing a sleeveless shirt to reveal his heavily scarred, muscled arms to the world takes one look at her and snorts.

‘Think you’re in the wrong place, sweetheart. Castle district is that way.’ He points with the filthy rag he is using to attempt to clean the glasses. 

‘I didn’t come here expecting honeyed wine and polite company,’ she responds, hopping onto a bar stool. 

‘What are you here for?’

‘Looking to forget my troubles.’

He grins, revealing several missing and chipped teeth. ‘You’ve come to the right place.’

Autumn hardly every touches mugs of cheap ale. But tonight she chases them down one after the other, bearing with the grim taste as she looks to the bottom of her tankards for even just a shred of happiness that continues to elude her, but the more the collection of mugs grow, the less cohesive her mind is, and that helps. She finds her mind unable to really focus on anything other than how her vision has doubled and everything around her seems a might shinier. It hits her that now is the time to return home.

Autumn slips off the bar-stool–quite literally, falling face-first into the back of a burly human nearly twice her height and girth, spilling his mug of ale all over his and his friends’ front.

‘Oi, watch it,’ he growls.

Autumn mumbles a slurred apology as she sets out for the door when a meaty hand clamps over her shoulder.

‘What did you just say to me, freak?’

Autumn shakes his hand off. ‘That I was sorry, but I take it back because you’re, quite frankly, a jack-ass.’

His snickering drinking buddies quiet with one withering glare before he sets his sights back on Autumn, rolling up his sleeves to reveal impossibly large forearms bursting with veins and muscles.

‘Someone needs to teach you some manners, little bitch.’

Her irritation grows. ‘Look, I’ve had an unfortunate few days. Do yourself the favour of removing yourself from my company before you regret it.’

He breaks out in guffaws of laughter, clearly unimpressed. 

‘You’re cute, I’ll give you that. I’m still gonna smash in that pretty face of yours.’

Autumn swings first, before he even finishes his sentence. Her alcohol-addled mind misjudges the distance and her first comes up a few inches short. He grabs her wrist, pulling her forward into the knee waiting to slam into her abdomen. It forces a cough from her lips as the air is forcibly knocked out of her. An elbow right in the centre of her spine drives her to the ground, dizzy and nauseated.

‘Hey, no rough-housing in my bar! Take it outside.’

‘If you insist.’ His expression sounds rather smug as she physically lists her from the ground, carrying her through the parting crowd of spectators. Through pain-squinted eyes Autumn sees them cheer, pump their fists in the air or raise their flagons, yet none step in to help, or look even a fraction concerned.

His boot kicks open the door, and with a roar he hoists Autumn above his head before hurling her forward. She raises her wings to try and catch herself midair and swing herself back to attack–big mistake. The momentum of the throw right in the direction of the blowing wind sends her careening into the side of a building rather than a harmless slide down the alleyway, her wings still outstretched. They strike against hard brick and mortar first with a series of sickening cracks that prelude the burst f agony spiderwebbing across her wings and spine. She can’t even scream through the pain, just breathless gasps as the pain continues its merciless onslaught. She crumples onto the ground, rolling on her front to take the weight from her broken wings. 

A series of feet and fists strike her like hammers, but she barely feels the initial impacts over the throbbing back pain, but it is enough for her mind to mercifully shut down.

‘…jy? Dajy!’ A voice calls her to consciousness, but with the spreading soreness across her entire form, she wishes they wouldn’t.

She groans, and tries to roll onto her back from habit–then quickly returns to her side with a cry. Her eyes flutter open, feeling the sting of the cold morning air. Kevir hovers over her, his face managing a weak smile when their eyes meet.

‘Dajy..I was so worried. You were missing all night.’ His fingers trail lightly over her arm, her shoulder, just stopping shy of her wing joint, where her wings both lay pathetic and broken. His expression forms into a snarl. ‘Who did this to you?’

Autumn tries to recall faces, but she can;t. Just muscled arms and mocking laughter. She swallows thickly, her mouth tasting thoroughly awful and dry as carpet. ‘I–I don’t know. Dock ward scum.’

‘If I ever find out who, so help me god…’ Kevir gently encourages her in a sitting position. ‘Can you stand? We should get you home.’

She meekly nods, and with Kevir’s help finds her feet. Her head swims and spins, pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil. She lulls against him for support with a dazed moan. She half expects a witty joke accompanied by an easy grin, but he merely winds an arm around her waist and helps her on the long walk back to their manor.

Due to the early hour, they are the only two awake–a small mercy she is thankful for. Kevir sets her down on a chair close to the dying embers of the fire.

‘I need to set the bones before I heal you. I won’t lie, dajy, this is gonna hurt.’

He steps behind her. Autumn’s hands grip the sides of the chairs tightly in preparation.The wood nearly buckles under her grip as he forces the bones of her ings into their proper position. She hears him whisper words of encouragement and affection, yet they are lost behind her howl.

A warm sensation eases the pain as he uses healing magic to mend her injuries, and she softly sighs in utter relief.

‘Thank you, dajy,’ she whispers softly, nearly collapsing back into the chair, her head lolling to rest on the back of it. Kevir comes to stand in front of her, placing a soft kiss on her brow.

‘Of course.’

Footsteps announce the arrival of a sleep-dishevelled Gar as he fixes them both with a half-amused, half-exasperated look. ‘Guys, I’m thrilled for you and all but if you could practice you’re kinky, noisy sex out of ear-shot of the rest of us, that would be great.’