#with that it means ill be able to get out of a less then ideal living situation

[peaches-and-honey-and-the-moon]

My taxes got accepted so now I just have to wait for the money to hit my account

[lakesbian]

this isn't qualifying as fanfiction or even dialogue with a point but i jotted down a random snip from my imaginary better version of the twig chapter where sy negotiates for the lambs to give him helen + pieces of ashton in exchange for a doctor he and jessie kidnapped. because ive been doing this thing lately called just writing whatever the hell appears in my brain for lambwriting practice and so i don't forget scene ideas in actual fics. and im never gonna have a reason to actually incorporate this into anything so ill just post it

“I…can't say I have anything better,” Jessie said. 

Lillian gawped at her. Then she pointed, sounding almost aghast. “I've just realized, you're–you’re in on all of this!”

Jessie took a bite of her danish and chewed for a good ten seconds before responding, which I supposed was a strategy to give Lillian a moment to calm down, and to avoid saying the obvious No shit. 

“It's not ideal,” she said. “But you have to admit, it's not reasonable to ask for Berger without giving something of equal value back. You also have to admit that Berger is an extremely valuable person. Right? Helen makes a fair exchange in terms of commitment. But we can't use her in the same way you can use Berger. Throwing in a piece of Ashton isn't hurting you, and it gives us something slightly more even.”

Lillian scowled. 

“My main complaint is that taking a piece of Ashton bothers you, and it's still not as useful as Berger. So we'd be coming out on the worse end of the deal, and losing some of your good graces in the process.” She gave me an annoyed glare. “But I don't have any better ideas, so that leaves me backing the Sylvester plan.”

“See?” I crowed, spreading my arms in triumph. “Even Jessie likes my idea.”

“Why is that supposed to be convincing?” Duncan asked, sounding offended. “You're–she’s your girlfriend, of course she would agree with you. It doesn't make it any less insane.”

“That sounds sexist, Duncan,” Jessie said, turning her judgment on him. “I'm his girlfriend, so I'm automatically subordinate to whatever he says? Did you not just hear me criticizing it?”

“No! No, I didn't mean it like that, what I mean is–you two are dating, and you're leading this whole project together, so it shouldn't be a point in his favor that you're both on the same page.”

I leaned on the table, getting closer to Duncan. “I can't blame you for not knowing this, Dunc, since you haven't been around Jessie long–”

“Duncan, please,” he interrupted. 

“Big mistake,” Lillian muttered. 

“But the thing is, Dunc,” I carried on, “that Jessie likes to complain about my ideas more than anyone else you could find. In fact, I'll count selling her on this as a greater victory than selling you.” 

“That sounds…completely backwards.” 

“No,” Lillian sighed. “That makes sense. Of course he's not concerned about being able to manipulate us.” 

“I'm noticing I'm starting to hear lots of people at this table agreeing with me!” I said brightly. 

“Two,” Jessie said. “Two people begrudgingly agreeing.”

It was a brilliant dynamic, really. By siding with everyone else in being exasperated with me, she could argue for everything we wanted, and look perfectly unbiased while she did it. 

“Three!” I said. “Three, if we count Helen wanting to come with us, which I absolutely do.” Helen waved cheerfully at the mention of her name, still munching her pastries. “Why, including me, we've almost got a majority.”

“We're not including you,” Jessie said tiredly. “You don't get a vote on your own plan.”

No one spoke up to tell her she didn't get a vote. The verisimilitude and convincing effect of her exasperation, of course, came from how she wasn't even remotely acting. 

“I disagree,” I said. I beamed at her. 

She shoved her glasses up and pinched her nose.

[heartzzluvv]

☆ Things i’m manifesting ☆

☆ telekinesis

I feel like it would be really cool to have telekinesis, Ive always doubted the accounts on tiktok of people doing telekinesis but SHIII since anythings possible i might aswell manifest something ive always wanted!!

☆ winning a lottery

My mom needs this SOOO bad bruh!! This will help all our struggling.

☆ desired Friend group.

I have a specific friend group scripted aswell, idky but ive just been falling off with my friends like i have barley any friends left .

☆ Having A marks in every subject no matter what without studying

no becs does this even need an explanation? LIKE WHO WOULDNT WANT THIS? Ive been falling off, my grades are horrifying.

☆ photographic memory

Ive always wanted this && found this cool. Ive always found it cool how in “Alice in borderland” how he was able to always remember stuff, it was like a dreammm!

☆ Having pretty privilege.

No explanation.

☆ Desired scenarios to happen

No explanation.

☆ knowing human physiology , being able to read anybody just by their looks, moves,etc,

IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO LEARN MORE ABOUT PHYSIOLOGY! Like ive always found the whole topic cool. But when i found out about human physiology? I WAS SOO INVESTED! i have to wait to get the books, so why bother just make my 2D a reality.

☆ Revising WHOLLEEE family.

Mainly my birth dad since i havent met him, but my point stands

☆ Able to shift instantly on commands.

No explanation.

☆ Can breath and see underwater.

No explanation.

☆ ideal swimsuit

theres these super cute swimsuits that are like 30Million dollars for each piece and im like WTFFF so im just gonna wait for it to come to me

☆ meeting amazing people

I havent scripted anything about these amazing people, so im just gonna let it come unexpectedly!

☆ Going on an trip to disney cruise

No explanation.

☆ ability to see who is the good person (if you see green aura around a person that means he’s a good person and if you see a red aura around a person that means he's a Bad person).

Ive always wanted to be aware if somebody is bad or not, not like anybodys gonna listen to my ruling, but atleast I know.

☆ desired body&& face

No explanation

☆ healing power

No explanation

☆ Manifesting a genie that grants you unlimited wishes

Because what? ive always felt deep down that ts was possible.

☆ meeting future me

Because i wanna know how ill be in the future PERIODT

☆ Ability to see into the future.

No explanation

☆ a yacht

my family is dirt poor , so this would be so cool and mean sm to me idk

☆ mom randomly getting a loaddd of money

my moms poor

☆ being fluent in french and spanish

CAUSE IVE ALWAYS TRIED TO WANT TO KNOW THESE LANGUAGES

☆ not feeling any pain

No explanation

☆ able to see peoples auras

No explanation

☆ all animals love me

Cause it would be so cool for a bird to not scatter like they normally do when they see people

☆ an adorable kitten

My mom said no pets but idgaf

☆ a pendant that you can put on your stuffed animals or pets that allows you to understand and talk to them!

IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW WHAT MY PETS SAY!! Like i wonder if my cat just goes like “get tf away from me you ugly ass bitch”😍

☆ infinite money card

it would be so hard to explain

☆ getting a fairy friend , Whose name is magical && looks like tiana

basic name but idc. i really want that cute fairy.

☆ my mom being less strict

She wont let me date or dye my hair . OR GET A SEPTUM.

☆ all piercings heal fast

im supposed to get a belly, industrial, snake bites & septum. so ofc

☆ blowing up on tumblr

A DREAMMM FR!! but im not in a rush nd idm watching my acc slowly grow.

☆ learning more about LOA

I wonder if LOA works like this. like can i just manifest to manifest?? LMAO

word to manifest all - “Cinnamon roll”

[fernandopiastri28]

please update quand c’est on ao3/on here, I’m obsessed I read it all in one sitting😭

quand c’est - part 7 ~ ln4 x op81

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

For Lando, for someone who has such a self hating and destructive mind- Oscar is his sanctuary. The only place he truly feels safe and at peace with the world. In an ideal world, it would just be him and Oscar. He’d be content like that.

Warnings: sickness, illness, cancer

Oscar helps him to get dressed on his day of dispatch from the hospital. They haven’t started chemo yet, waiting to see how the surgery goes before they decide whether or not he needs it. On the bright side, it means that he still has his precious curls. 

He pulls on a beanie anyways, then takes it off, stuffing it into his bag. He has no use for a beanie in Singapore- what was he thinking?

Lando uses Oscar’s shoulders to stabilise himself as the aussie helps him into a pair of grey sweatpants, smirking as he ties the knot on them. “Good look on you,” Oscar murmurs, coyly looking up at Lando from where his head is slightly tilted down.

“Dirty dog trying to get me hard in my hospital room,” Lando grins, watching the crinkles of Oscar’s smile lines deepen.

“Ah ah ah, ex hospital room,” Oscar corrects him annoyingly, waggling his finger. Lando rolls his eyes, yanking his shirt away from Oscar and putting it on himself, smug that he’s able to do it all on his own.

Yet immediately after, he just feels useless- being proud of putting on a shirt without help? He could do that when he was 5, that’s not impressive for a 24 year old- it’s just embarrassing. 

“Lando,” Oscar rests his forehead against the brit’s. Lando’s never been one to be able to mask his emotions- so it’s pretty clear that he’s down in the dumps and more than usual. “Talk to me,”

Lando sucks his cheeks in and looks up at Oscar. “Don’t wanna,” He looks off to the side, pulling down on the hem of his shirt. He feels disgustingly raw and tender, susceptible to even more damage. “I don’t want to talk about it,” He rephrases.

Oscar doesn’t budge, giving him stupid puppy dog eyes as a way to convince him, “Is it about the shirt?” Lando weakly shrugs, “Putting it on yourself?” He nods, looking at Oscar for only a fleeting second, before looking back at his unmade hospital bed. 

“Partially,” Lando chews his bottom lip, scratching his elbow. “It’s just- it’s feeling real, isn’t it?” The cancer, the tumour, the surgery, the commitment.

God, the commitment- Lando hadn’t even had time to think about that. Not only is he gonna have to spend weeks in recovery and rehab- fucking Oscar is going to have to take care of him and ‘manage’ him.

Lando doesn’t want that for Oscar, he wants Oscar to be a free man who doesn’t have to care for his boyfriend like a child, he wants Oscar to race.

“It is very real,” Oscar agrees, slipping on his backpack. He looks awfully young, kinda like a little kid ready for their first day of school. Oscar is young, and so is Lando. Maybe that’s the most difficult part of all of this- it’s happening so early in his life.

Lando hasn’t even really lived yet. A single race win, just under 20 podiums, almost 6 years in F1, not a single world championship- only 24 years old.

And he’s not ready- he’s not ready to be sick, to have a life threatening illness, to undergo surgery.

But even less than all of that- he’s not ready to die.

So he picks up his bag, holds Oscar’s hand and squeezes it with the reassurance of ‘I’ll be okay’

He’ll fake it till he makes it.

The two of them walk out of the hospital, and they make it only a few metres before they have a few people shoving cameras, phones, and hats in their faces- fans begging for attention. Lando boils with rage- the disrespect that people show them- acting like they’re fucking animals animals in a zoo. 

He pushes past them, while Oscar gives a weak smile to a few photos, trying to keep the piece. “I’m not signing,” Lando grunts, pushing away the arm of a man who looks double his age, shoving a Daniel Ricciardo McLaren shirt in his face.

The man heckles him, calling him rude for ‘not wanting to interact with fans’. Lando opens his mouth, ready to spit defences for himself and insults towards the man before Oscar yanks him away, pulling him into their awaiting car. 

They’re lucky that the car has near completely pitch black tinted windows as Lando collapses into Oscar, his head in the Australian's lap as he just sobs. “Oscar,” His voice breaks, his body just so exhausted. He’s so tired, all the time. He can hardly talk, hardly think, hardly be himself. “I- I can’t do this,”

He can’t feel like this. Lando has a reputation to uphold, he prides himself on the fact that he tries to make each and every one of his fans feel cherished and special, not like he ignores them when it doesn’t suit them. To the outside world, he’s still normal Lando, he’s still healthy Lando.

He can’t act like this out and public, he can’t let people know he’s not well.

Oscar taps their driver on the shoulder, telling him to just drive as he begins to adjust Lando- making sure he’s strapped in with his seatbelt as Lando getting injured in the possibility they crash is the last thing either of them need. When Lando’s safely in his seat, Oscar curls up into Lando, stroking his curls and kissing his head. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” He whispers against Lando’s skin.

For Lando, for someone who has such a self hating and destructive mind- Oscar is his sanctuary. The only place he truly feels safe and at peace with the world. In an ideal world, it would just be him and Oscar. He’d be content like that.

“I love you Osc, I- I don’t say it enough,” He blabbers, his words spilling out of his mouth without an end. Part of him wants to confess all the things he has always been too scared to do out of fear of rejection or judgement because there’s a nagging worry deep inside him that is telling him he’s gonna die- that the surgery is going to kill him and he’s going to die with so many unsaid thoughts and confessions.

“You say it enough,” Oscar comforts him, holding onto Lando like he’s scared the older man is going to wither away in his arms. “You do, Lans, you make me feel so loved,”

“No I don’t,” His voice comes out as a croak, his throat burning and aching from swallowing back sobs. “You have no idea how much I love yo- you’re my whole world, you’re my everything , Osco,” He can;t see it, but he knows Oscar’s smiling at that- at the nickname. It’s a sad smile though, like he knows why Lando’s confessing.

Like he knows Lando fears dying too soon.

“I love you, Lano,” He giggles, a teary one. “You’re gonna be okay, I know it- you’ve always been okay,” But Lando’s always been well enough , he’s never had something as serious as cancer. “You’re a fucking F1 driver, mate, you’re gonna beat this shit,”

It’s weirdly funny to him- he’s an F1 driver who races against the fear of death every single day, with each time he steps into that car, he has to prepare to not exit it- yet the thing that’ll most likely kill him is a mass in his brain.

He stores that thought in his mind for later, deciding to allow himself to switch off for just a bit. He wants to be numb, be putty in Oscar’s hands. “You’re right, you muppet,” He grins, the tears on his cheeks dribbling down further. For once, they both smile genuinely, and there’s hope.

Maybe not hope for recovery, but hope for Lando that Oscar won’t up and leave when it gets hard.

The remainder of the trip to get on the plane goes by in a blur. Lando’s bundled up in a huge jacket, sunglasses, a beanie, and a disposable blue medical face mask to avoid any awkward confrontation  that could send him into another spiral. Oscar does something similar, but luckily being relatively new to the sport has his perks and he goes undetected with just a face mask from his time at prema and his hood up over his head.

They sit next to each other on the plane, neither of them watching or listening to anything for the whole flight because it’s painfully overwhelming and overstimulating to Lando, and Oscar wants to keep himself level with lando. If Lando does something, Oscar does the same.

They do hold hands though, and it feels all really good. 

Mark met them at the airport, so now he’s sitting across from them on the private jet, giving the couple about as much privacy as they get from the drive to survive film crew. He’s tapping away at something on his ipad, and Oscar dramatically mocks the older man to Lando, wiggling his eyebrows and opening and shutting his mouth like a gaping goldfish- mouthing a bunch of random teases.

Lando laughs, so fond of the Australian. He officially can take the statement he made during the lie detector test back; Oscar is a funny teammate. He’s a funny boyfriend, he’s a perfect boyfriend, he’s a perfect boy- he’s perfect.

They make a little game out of trying to kiss as much as they can without getting a reaction out of Mark, and they’re successful for a bit, alternating between pecks and deeper kisses, stifling laughs each time they pull apart and their eyes dart to where Mark is truly invested in whatever is going on his screen.

It's a solid 15 minutes into their little game when Mark, without looking up, finally speaks, “I can clearly see you two kissing- I just chose not to say anything,” He announces, confirming that he did know what they were trying to do. 

The two boys turn slightly red, looking at eachother with huge grins. Once again, feeling like teenagers being caught. It’s nice though, kissing without consequence. Mark is also a part of the small group of people who know about their relationship- basically being Oscar’s second dad and all, so they’re really allowed to do whatever. 

Whatever in reason , that is.

So, when Mark falls asleep, Lando gives Oscar a slight nudge in the arm. He’s feeling good, having recently taken some of his strong medication that is the only non-drowsy one. It was a calculated decision- he had plans.

Or, he has plans. Plans involving Oscar and the plane bathroom.

Fuck yeah. Fuck being sick, Lando's gonna make the most of his final days before surgery and join the infamous mile high club.

[thebluntstudent]

FIVE TIPS FOR STUDYING WHEN ILL OR OTHERWISE INCONVENIENCED...

disclaimer: when at all possible, you should always prioritise physical and mental wellbeing over a good grade. If you are seriously ill to the point where it is heavily impeding your capacity to study, you are not fit to take an exam, or write an essay, and I hope your educational institute has measures for exceptional circumstances/extensions/deferrals to allow you to do so! Alas, it isn't always possible to do the ideal thing in life, and that is where my experience comes into play.

°•☆•°

Sometimes you find yourself in a crappy predicament a couple weeks before an essay is due, or an exam is scheduled, and you find yourself slipping further away from the stacl of textbooks on your desk, and closer to the comforts of your bed and the rest you really wish you had the time to make the most of.

Right now, my hormones are currently out of whack in a way that could meaning anything from (the most likely cause) PCOS to perimenopause at 22 to plenty of other less likely possibilities I'd rather not dwell on. This means that sitting up for more than 5-10 minutes in the same position sends my abdomen into spasms and sharp pains, and generally existing hour to hour is a painful, emotional, hot-flush filled experience.

That being said, I have an exam in a few days, and since deferral is not an option for me (this is my last attempt, I can't take any more time off of uni, my last attempt was last year during a period of several losses that occurred on an interruption year I had taken due to burn-out and unresolved trauma sliding into my life- you get where I'm going with the 'sometimes life is a bitch and your general and academic life can't be pretty and pristine' bit) I have been doing my best to balance comfort and productivity in a way that helps me look out for what I need right now whilst still getting in as much revisiom as I'm able to.

So! I thought I'd share my little tips for building a comfy study space when conditions are not ideal but you still gotta keep moving:

• abandon the 'do not study in bed' tip, but only for as long as it helps you as opposed to hindering you. I have tried sittimg up at a desk with pillows and blankets swathing me- and all I get for it is hefty back pain and constant awkward readjustments every time I start heating up or shift around in my seat too much. If you're ill, you aren't doing yourself any good sitting hunched over a desk either- and frankly your sleep is probably going to be buggered until you're feeling better anyways. So, if sitting at a desk is putting you off, prop up some pillows, rest your writing materials on a hard surface (a folder, an A4 hardback- a chopping board works for a cute wannabe lap desk too), and set a zone of your bed aside (or just use a bedside cabinet if you have one) for anything you'll be using fairly often- by which I mean stationary, textbooks you'll be using over the course of the next hour or so- just enough stuff to save you constantly getting up out of your comfy study bubble.

• listen to tesco: every little helps. What I like to do to get myself going when I'm feeling naff- which works also if you're simply having a difficult time focusing yourself for the day- is to do micro pomodoro sessions, where I'll dedicate myself to 5 minutes minimum of focused study. If I really can't bring myself to continue longer than 5 minutes, I'll let myself rest for a little while (up to 20-30 minutes) before getting myself to do another micro session. This may not seem very productive, but you are more likely to do a good hour of work on a bad day when you tell yourself you only need to do little 5 minute sessions, than procrastinating studying because you feel as if you'll have to sit up and focus for a much longer period of time for it to count. Every. Little. Helps. In 5 minutes you can run through a topic of flash cards, do a slide of lecture notes, answer small exam questions, do a page or two of readings- and on a good day, that 5 minutes might turn into 10 with a small break, then 15, then you'll find yourself picking up your regular pace in no time! But again, even 5 minutes, just one little session, is a win when the world is throwing hurdles at you <3

• maximise your comfort: you know the little things that bring you joy, and you don't habe to be rolling in cash to surround yourself with little things to keep you going when all you want to do is sleep. My current comforts are the loyal presence of my cat next to me, a few old blankets I can swaddle myself in to stare at the ceiling when my ovaries are throwing a tantrum, a little variety of teas (currently rocking a chai latte with home bargains vanilla syrup, girl gotta have her sweet relief), a pack of energy drinks, some painkillers, and a little incense tray nearby that I forget to use 70% of the time (though the remaining 30% makes up for that). None of this is in particular mandatory- if it were, the dog people of the world would be doomed. The point is, find your little comforts- an activity you can do from the comfort of your bed like a puzzle, sensory toy or just a book to doodle in, a certain type of drink or snack you really love, some smellies (perfume, incense, candles, wax melts, and so on), supplies for whatever ails you- little personal things to relax you whilst you try to gather your energy.

• Now is not the time to push it. I tend to find the times in which I am most likely to push myself past my limits are the times in whicj something is inhibiting me- the frustration of being bed-bound, fatigued due to chronic conditions, etc tends to make me feel even more than usual that I am not doing enough because of my awareness of my present restrictions. Though this post is about pusning through bad times, you should be doing so with self-compassion, and with the mindset that every little bit you achieve in your current state is a win, a bonus, even if you find yourself unable to work to the same standard as normal. You aren't well- you aren't supposed to be functioning at 100% because your body is only functioning at 50%, and if you want to get back to your regular stressed student self you need to rest! Remember that a slightly lower grade than you were expecting in the short-term is not a reflection on your character, and it's better to *be* better for the long-term than to work yourself into a ditch and burn-out when you are already at a low point.

• If healthy study you is a carefully rehearsed play, then sick study you is a completely improvised show. Don't knock the analogy, even if it is silly and obscure- when I am at my peak, I will time-block my studies, plan to do certain topics on certain days, do 30-5 or 50-10 study sessions, work during a set period from the morning to the mid afternoon.

When I am ill, I do not know when I will be unable to sit up to work. I do not know when I will be able to sleep, to stomach food, to concentrate- so I have to accept that the normal routines that keep me consistent have to be chucked in the bin for the time being. Instead of planning my whole day, I create a vague, rough outline of the next few things I want to get done. This way, I don't feel crushed when I start working on lecture notes and find myself flat out on my back crying 10 minutes later- I just pick up where I left off when I'm ready, and work in increments from there.

°•☆•°

Right now my sleep is a bit fudgy because of night sweats/panics and p a i n, and by building a cosy space and letting my plans adapt to my body's needs I've managed to get 3 hrs of lecture notes, 2 sets of flashcards, and a set of logic practise questkons done over night between 8pm-4:30am. If I had tried to stick to my regular 'good day' study routine, I don't think I would have lasted 15 minutes before giving up and crawling over to youtube with a bowl of white chocolate and a horlicks in hand.

It is this kind of adaptability to external conditions that allowed me to survive an unstable home situation during college that meant weeks without wifi, constantly moving between different homes and constant fear of eviction due to family debts I was too young to do anything about- and allowed me to get into the top university in London* as a working class girly from a council estate.

I was given the opportunity to do an extra year at college for free due to these circumstances and a great support network within the institute to make sure I got into the specific university that I wanted to, and I had to take an interruption after my firdt yesr of university because I am not a super-human, and I knew my limits- but I'm still going, and the time away I've had has paid off and gotten me back to my scrappy, chaotic, passionately nerdy self.

You can be messy and be a good student too- and you can get through the worst of times with a little adaptability, perseverance, a good support network and a little self care ♡

*Times Good University Guide, 2024.

[haridraws]

sorry to bother you, i saw your 2022 hourly comic post today and i first want to say thank you because it’s really my exact situation in so many ways, right down to being apart from my partner (haven’t gotten to see her since the start of the pandemic since we’re both disabled and public transport is a covid nightmare but we’re on the council housing waitlist so hopefully eventually!) and it means a lot to not feel alone in that. i wanted to ask about the mobility chair that helps you sit up if that’s okay? i have a simple bed setup but being able to sit in the living room with the sun and a view is nice, but i can’t sit up unsupported for long and i can’t really like Do Anything and also sit upright bc the sitting up is all my energy, so a chair like that might be something to save for if you could maybe tell me about it! also does it have support for the neck/head? i think my spine is getting compressed from not being able to sit up for so long lol but i might be able to find cushions for that so that’s less essential!

anyway, sorry to ramble on! no pressure if you can’t manage a reply, the fact that i know about such chairs now is helpful so thank you either way!! and probably very belated but i was scrolling your blog and happy to see you have a place with your partner, so congrats! take care and all the best to you both!

thank you for this message, v sorry you're in the same boat as I was. Answering properly and publicly in case this is useful for anyone else:

Stuff I personally use to make being bedbound more comfortable

obligatory disclaimer I am not a doctor, stretching or moving your body a little (see 18) if or when you can is probably good, etc.

1. SPECIAL FURNITURE The chair I have NOW is a "riser recliner" and I usually add a small pillow for lower back (and sometimes head) support. Like adjustable beds, they're whole furniture with powerful (HEAVY) motors built in, so they're expensive. They're usually cheaper:

if you don't need to be tipped out (just power recliners, though they might recline less or provide less support)

from regular shops, not mobility ones.

If you're able, you can go into a store and try one out first (personally being taken in a wheelchair was worth the strain, because it was weirdly hard to predict what back shape would be comfy).

if you're in the UK and you're 'chronically sick or disabled' you can get them VAT-free to make them 20% cheaper - mobility stores will have a form, others you might have to ask / check the shop does it

(I got one I could lie flat in, that came with a free setup service in the 'room of my choice'.)

It still took me 8 years of illness mostly stuck in bed to get both chair and bed because of (a) the price (b) not being sure I was sick enough to "deserve" it, same with my wheelchair. THIS WAS A FOOLISH WAY OF THINKING. There's no threshold required to get devices that will make your life easier / less agonising. Mobility aids are for anyone who'll be helped by them.

2. ADJUST EXISTING FURNITURE WITH WEIRD PILLOWS Special furniture will obviously not be possible for everyone, and before I got the chair, I just used a combo of regular pillows and a triangle wedge pillow in bed (though it took trying 2 different wedges to find one that was a good shape for me.)

Last year someone ( @dont-break-hearts I think? THANK YOU) recommended me this shape cushion - some start at £15 on that site. That's now what I use to sit on a regular sofa, though I also always need my legs up at the same height (tall footstool now, but a sideways dining chair works ok) so it's closer to lying down.

These aren't 100% ideal - ymmv, I still need extra cushions and any position gets stiff after a while - but for me are WAY BETTER than just layering pillows or forcing myself to sit up.

[steviewashere]

Our Love Ain't Compromised

Rating: General CW: Minor Vomiting/Dry Heaving (I have emetophobia so I made sure that it was minor, don't worry.) Tags: Sick Fic, Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington has Anxiety, Worried Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Sick Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Medical Accuracies (Surprising, I Know, But I Actually Know Somebody Who's Had a Transplant), Mentioned Kidney Transplant

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being taken care of when sick/love is taking care of them when they're sick."

💕—————💕

Eddie’s immune system is shot to shit. Has been since March of 1986. When he had awoken after his little stint in the Upside Down, it was to patches of scars, a missing nipple, and a brand new kidney. Turns out, that when alternate dimension bats chew you to bits and pieces and you’re helpless against them, they bite a little further than you could imagine. The ones that attacked his torso took a little more than necessary. Though, it wasn’t what caused him to get a kidney transplant.

No, in fact, he only has a brand new kidney because his body was fighting against the skin grafts and other surgeries. His downstairs business—the bladder and one kidney—were compromised. Luckily, his bladder was able to heal. But the scarring on his left kidney was too severe to come back from.

Hence, one new kidney.

The downside to this transplant, though, came in the form of one prescription drug. The immunosuppressant. A bunch of little capsules that he takes daily; in the morning and at night. And, get this, they’re forever pills. Meaning, they follow him to the day he dies. But knowing his luck, he’ll be up there arguing with God, one palm full of pills, and a glass of water in the other.

Surgeons and doctors told him that the suppressants were going to compromise his immune system. They were going to make him more vulnerable to infections and illnesses. And he’d been mostly careful in his life so far. If he catches a cold, he stays home and rests. If somebody he knows gets sick, he stays far away.

Though, when you’re a grown adult with a husband who works around snotty children all the time, the illnesses come whether you like it or not. It started with Steve getting pretty damn sick, knocked down by the yearly flu season. Which, granted, Steve had received his vaccine—but even then, the strongest still can be K.O’d. 

Steve’s sick state is…well, less than ideal. Eddie loves him to bits and pieces, but man is his husband a miserable thing when he gets ill. Like a desperate wet cat in a thunderstorm. Mewling and rolling about and picky to a fault. So, Eddie did the logical thing (admittedly, the dumbest), he took care of Steve. Hand fed him spoonfuls of soup. Draped a washcloth on his heated forehead. Changed out his puke bucket. Ran lukewarm baths and did the laundry and tucked Steve in and kissed his forehead and…ran himself dry.

The karma is Eddie gets sick now.

It’s only a few days after Steve is able to return to work. When he’s been fever free for forty-eight hours, that Eddie gets severely sick.

We’re talking many trips to the bathroom. Heat shivers like nothing else. Sweat stains and chilled bones and clicking teeth. Heavy chest and congested nose and an appetite the size of Rhode Island.

When Steve comes back from work, it’s a Friday, he comes through just in time to hear Eddie dry heave into the toilet for the—give or take—eighth time that day. Did he mention that it’s only four? Has he said that he hasn’t had anything to eat except for toast this morning, some that Steve made before he had to leave? Steve’s class starts at eight. He eats at six.

Immediately, Eddie hears the rush of heavy footsteps clamber down the hallway. Skittering into their bedroom. Practically sliding into the tiled, small bathroom. A hand carefully bunches up his hair, ties it back loosely—just enough so it’s out of the way. And another runs up and down his spine in long stripes. The t-shirt Eddie is wearing gets stuck a few times with the movement of Steve’s hand, due in part to the tacky sweat on his back, and also because Steve moves his hand anxiously. He’s an anxious guy when the people around him aren’t doing too hot.

With his last round of dry heaving, Eddie spits into the toilet bowl, reaches up and clumsily flushes the toilet, and then settles loose on the floor. Collapsed halfway on the toilet’s seat. His butt sat on his folded legs. He sighs.

“Oh, baby,” Steve coos above him. “Baby, why didn’t you say you were sick? I would’ve stayed home with you.”

Eddie’s voice is raspy and exhausted when he speaks. “Didn’t know,” he says, “started after you left.” A chill runs up his arms and he full body shivers with it. “Was gonna call, but I knew you were excited to see your kiddos again.” He shrugs. “I can manage for a few hours.”

“Yeah, but you’re miserable,” Steve relays, as if Eddie wasn’t aware. He’s very much aware. Too aware, actually. But he lets Steve make a fuss. “Okay, uh, okay plan. I’ll run a bath for you and I’ll—I’ll, fuck, I’ll make you that chicken broth that you like. And I can change out our bedding while you relax in the tub and I can—“ He stops to swallow. His hands flap at his side. Steve never does well when Eddie gets sick, he immediately goes high strung and scrambled.

With a weak hand, Eddie reaches out and soothes his palm down Steve’s calve. “Honey,” he whispers, coaxing. Steve’s breath is heavy, yet short. And his eyes are darting when they finally look at Eddie. “Honey,” he repeats. “It doesn’t help me when you get worked up. One step at a time, alright?”

“Right,” Steve mutters shortly, “right, you’re right.” He flutters out of Eddie’s space. Instead, he leaves the room. Eddie hears him shuffling about their bedroom, changing the sheets. And then he retreats back into the hallway, to the linen closet for a towel. (Eddie knows him a little too well some days. Especially on high strung days.) Then, he’s back in the bathroom with new clothes and a towel. Just in time for Eddie to be up off the floor, a cup of mouthwash swirling around his tongue. Steve’s talking a mile a minute when he comes back in. “Okay, so I got clothes and a towel. And my phone is on the charger so that I can call your doctor just in case things get really bad. And I—Honestly, I already texted him and he said to just take a couple tablets of Zofran for the nausea. Also, I checked the fridge while I was putting away my shoes—I forgot to take them off, sorry about the little bit of mud by the door—but I couldn’t find any of the bay leaves for that broth. So, I hope it’s okay that the chicken broth is a little bland. Actually—“

He spits out the mouthwash, holding back his laughter. Eddie’s not sure if the rambling is something Steve picked up from Robin or if it’s something associated with his anxiety. Honestly, if he allows himself to think about it, it’s probably a bit of both. But he watches Steve leave the room again. His mutterings about the space are loud to his ears.

“—God, we have like no seasonings,” is what Eddie picks up on when he exits the bathroom. Steve continues, “And the pot I need is in the sink. I’ll do the dishes and then I’ll make the broth and…Well, no, if I make the broth in the smaller pot, then he can eat while I clean. But what if he needs me while he’s eating? I can’t be in a different room when he needs me. What if he gets sick on the couch while I’m cleaning and I don’t hear him and then he’s too tired to clean himself up and then he’s just sitting there and then—“

“Steve,” Eddie calls from the kitchen entryway. He’s stood still in front of the open pantry door. Hands nervous at his sides. Eddie’s never actually been a witness to the rambling before. It’s usually that Steve stays stuck in place, eyes far away, head full of a thousand thoughts that he needs Eddie’s help to parse through. The thoughts don’t typically all leave his mouth at once, though. It’s a little bit concerning. “Baby, I need you to calm down. How about you draw me a bath? Help me wash my hair, because I think I got a little bit of puke in the ends. And then, we can order Chinese food or something? I’ll just get plain white rice.”

Instead of saying anything, Steve nods. Eyes not exactly far, but still somewhere distant. Yet, he crosses the room anyway. A hand to Eddie’s forehead. The other on his chest. Then, he mutters, “You’re burning up. Let me grab the Tylenol.”

“I already took some, Stevie,” Eddie says. “I just need you to run me a bath, please.” He reaches up for the palm on his chest, squeezes, and holds tight to it as he drags them back to the bathroom. Without much prompt, Eddie slips out of his dirty, sweaty clothes. And with a silent demeanor, unusual for somebody like him, gazes on as Steve patters about—bending over to turn the knob to warm, going to the sink’s cabinet for the bottle of lavender soap, reaching up on the shower shelf for the hair products. And for the first time since Steve got home, he goes completely quiet, now sitting on the lip of the tub, hands out in silent offering for Eddie’s. Which he takes with a soft hold and allows himself to be maneuvered into the water.

He lets Steve pour a cup of water over his hair. A hand settled on the side of his neck. Washcloth on his forehead. Eddie relaxes into Steve’s gentle touches, for once today, the idea of being sick dissipates from his mind.

It’s not even ten minutes into the bath that Steve speaks up again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Eddie opens his eyes, not even realizing that he closed them. Steve’s hands just feel that good. “Why are you sorry?” He asks genuinely.

Steve shrugs. “For getting all overbearing and whatever. It’s hard to—“ Sometimes, it’s difficult for Steve to find his words, the emotions. Always has been a bit of a thing for him, but Eddie never minds. In fact, he kind of adores watching Steve work his way through his thoughts, actively seeing in real time as the sensations click for him. “—It’s hard to see you sick. Especially when I know that it’s because of my bug that I had. And, you know, considering the bullshit back in Hawkins.”

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, “don’t say it like it’s exclusively your fault.” He rests his left hand over Steve’s own. His skin is soft under Eddie’s palm. The heat radiating from him is grounding. “I made the decision to help you. And it wasn’t something you just decided to bring home from work. It’s okay. Just the flu,” he tries to reassure.

“But what if you get sicker than I did? Like…So sick that we have to take you to the hospital and then you’re there for several days and the bed is empty of you and I—“

“Stevie,” he cuts in. “Honey, you need to breathe for me, alright? I’m right here. And, yes, I’m sick and miserable. But it’s just the flu. I know what it is, you know what it is.” He takes a deep breath, it mingles with Steve’s own stuttered inhale. “If something happens, we contact my doctor. Remember why I get sick easily, baby. It’s just the suppressants doing their job, nothing else. We’ll be alright.”

Steve nods, going completely quiet. Almost still with it.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Eddie questions.

“I—Do you even like it when I’m the one taking care of you? Like I get when Wayne does because he’s all calm and collected about it, but.”

Eddie soothes his hand up to Steve’s left forearm. Fingers tapping, waiting for Steve to completely look at him. When they lock eyes, he states firm yet soft, “I love it when you take care of me. You make sure I have and get everything I need. There’s nobody else that I’d rather have here with me.”

“Even when I can’t shut up about what needs to happen? Even when my brain goes a mile a minute because I’m just…scared?”

He nods subtly. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he whisper-rasps. “I feel so loved when you take care of me. Because you actually care. It’s hard for both of us when I get sick, I understand that.”

Steve nods back at him. Teeth sunken into his bottom lip. “Is it weird to say that I love taking care of you? Like it makes me feel useful to help you out?”

“Not weird, just welcomed,” Eddie assures. Because that’s the beautiful truth.

A few moments of silence lull between them. The washcloth goes a little cold against Eddie’s skin and he senses the prickling of shivers mingling under his skin. “Help me out of the tub and just lay with me in bed for now? I’m not hungry yet.” Steve bounces back into action. At the snap of fingers, ready to tend to anything Eddie needs of him.

And when they’re back in bed, Steve’s ruffled feathers finally flattened back to his body and Eddie’s fever dropping a single degree, Eddie is content. He lays on his back with Steve curled on his left side. Their legs tangled with each other. A palm heavy on his t-shirt clad stomach. Eddie’s own toying with Steve’s hair. The shirt is stuck to him from the VapoRub that Steve applied.

It’s warm in their room. Radiator on and lowly humming. Curtains closed so that it’s dark, though lit by Steve’s bedside lamp. Eddie’s got his own bucket settled on the floor, just in case. A sleeve of saltine crackers on his table. Poncho is curled up by his feet, purring incessantly, fur shifting and tickling his soles.

This treatment is one of a million reasons why he adores the man he married. “I love you, Steve. You take good care of me; you should know that,” he mutters into the soothing silence.

Instead of receiving an answer, Steve’s snore is muffled into Eddie’s shoulder. Puffing in warm bursts against his neck. He shifts his hand to press between Steve’s shoulder blades. And smiles a little to himself when Steve shuffles in impossibly closer. He feels like crap, that’s pretty hard to miss. Though, he’s comfortable. Comfortable enough that he can slip into a peaceful, syrupy, boneless sleep.

His immune system is shot to shit. But the love that fills his soul sure isn’t.

💕—————💕

[corvidares]

okay, so i just finished re-reading Any Way the Wind Blows and this feels so blatant as to be smacking me in the face: simon is disabled.

now, the reason why that makes itself even clearer in this book than in wayward son (where he, of course, also has the wings + tail) is because simon is once again in the world of mages - despite doing his best to leave it behind. compared to wayward son, where hes basically and literally in the wild west. where theres magical beings everywhere, where simon practically fits in because he is one.

but ill get back to that.

ive seen a lot of really interesting points about what simon's wings represent and mean, and i'm not disagreeing with those. but in a very literal sense, they are a disability.

think about it like this: the world of mages (and Normals) is not built for humanoids who have giant webbed wings and a tail. simon constantly struggles with controlling these limbs, and their size makes it ten times harder. spaces are too small, furniture and objects are broken when he spreads them, and many a shirt or jacket are ruined.

he struggles to find a good way to deal with this - spell them away? wear them out by cutting holes in things? fold them extremely painfully into his shirt? even though this last one is treated like a solution for a little while, its far from ideal. who is simon doing this for? himself, or everyone around him? yes, of course Normals cant see them. and yeah, hes expressed discomfort about baz and penny spelling them hidden. but thats not the point. even with this botch job of a way to "wear" his wings, which succeeds at hiding them from Normals, simon still states a couple times that he knows people stare at him and his seeming hunchback. i mean, thats blatant.

(he eventually, with shepard's help, realizes a good way to work around this - zippers or buckles on shirtbacks - which very much feels like an aha! disability aid moment)

im not saying disability is based in how people look at you, or it only being a societal thing. (as in, when he wasnt in the world of mages, he wasnt suddenly 'not disabled at all') disability is a huge spectrum. but those things absolutely can be a part of the disabled experience.

but all of that doesnt even get to my main point: simon has no magic anymore. and in the world of mages, thats a huge deal. magic is like living and breathing, especially for baz and penny. its not something they question or have to worry about not being able to call upon. hell, even before simon lost his magic he was disabled, just to a different extent.

before awtwb, we dont hear much about mages whose magic is weak. but they come to the forefront now - which just solidifies that solid magical ability = able bodiedness.

smith is promising a miracle cure. a cure. think of it like bullshit orgs such as aut!sm spe@ks, wanting to "cure" autism - he wants to cure people. (and hes just as full of shit) why? because weak magic is seen as a disease, a problem, even subhuman.

take daphne, baz's stepmom. her quality of life is fine, great. her weaker magic doesnt seem to put her at a disadvantage. she manages her disability well. but in comparison to the norm, to what is expected of the average mage, shes got nothing. less than nothing. she feels shame over what she cant do.

smith's case becomes even more blatant when we see, at the end of awtwb, that he wants to essentially cull weak magicians. that they're holding back society. that theyre better off as powerless as Normals - who are blatantly seen as subhuman - than as weak mages. much like how ableist rhetoric puts forward that disability is a fate worse than death.

which brings us back to simon. he insists hes a Normal, now or always has been. baz insists hes the most powerful magician to exist. both of them are wrong.

and right. and right and wrong.

simon is some third thing - not a mage, not a Normal. akin to how disability is its own minority aside from race or ethnicity he has a foot in each world, and he always has. but now he cant achieve blending into either.

this is why the increasing presence and humanization of other magical beings beside mages is so important (thank you shephard!) how mages tend to seem magical beings is very ableist. theyre subhuman, theyre not to be trusted, theyre freaks, theyre dirty, etc. except oops, how can you keep thinking that penny, when this very nice one works at a cafe and helped you translate shephard's engagement terms?

even baz and the events of wayward son play into this - yeah, some vampires are horrible people. but plenty, like baz, are just people. with a range of experiences and morals and ways of living life. (take nicodemus) (i could make a point about how simon's stalwart acceptance of baz's vampirism helps baz comes to terms with it and how this is also super disability coded, but thats another essay)

in the beginning of awtwb, he decides to go to the extreme opposite of his chosen one powered life - to live as a Normal, and the second step (after cutting himself off from baz and penny) is getting his wings removed.

except he cant do it. and even having his wings touched is horribly uncomfortable. now, this partly has to do with how much theyre sensual parts of his body - same as his tail. but its also, separately, very intimate. theyre treated very clinically, like a fascinating specimen to pore over. im not trying to give niamh shit here, just saying what i saw.

but theyre part of him. people with disabilities often deal with being stared at and poked and prodded by the medical field (if theyre not ignored or waved off. maybe both.). even every day folks feel the right to touch disabled folks, or their mobility aids.

for a lot of people, mobility aids are a part of them - its like a stranger touching your face and thinking theyre doing you a favor. when instead theyre being weird as fuck.

simon's status as previous chosen one even plays into this sort of thing - people see him more as a figurehead, for what he can and cant do (including his wings!) than a person. hes a tragedy, hes a hero. hes inspirational, hes to be pitied. sound familiar?

the end of awtwb doesnt spell out whether simon ends up deciding to keep his wings (frustratingly). but they spell out that he would absolutely would, in my opinion.

simon increasingly treats them as a natural extension of his body. think of the scene where he flies about the watford goats. how he expresses his feelings with his wings and tail. and of course, how he learns to let baz loves each and every part of him: including his dragon limbs.

baz loves him, and loves them, not in a fetishistic way, but because its simon, and he loves everything simon is. not just what he represents or can or cant do.

[flameswallower]

A while back, in a friendship-ending argument, someone accused me of being persistently "contemptuous" towards him and others. It hurt me, because that's one thing I strongly try not to be unless somebody deserves it, and because I honestly don't feel contemptuous towards most other people most of the time, or believe that's something that really comes through in my manner. Still, in the moment I brushed it off as deflection-- this was an argument where, for once, I was the reasonable, rational person in a fairly clear-cut way, and I had good reason to express exasperation and disappointment with how the other guy was behaving and talking to me. But much later, during an argument with my partner, I asked if they agreed with my ex-friend that I'm a contemptuous person. And they said yes, that comes through very strongly when you get upset, you really judge other people.

So I thought about that, and I think what's happening is a combination of things. One is that deep down, yeah! I am a judgy person in certain ways, and because I normally suppress that and try incredibly hard not to be bitchy or catty or mean, basically ever, it comes out like water from a firehose when I lose control-- and the emotion gets everywhere, there's no discretion around, say, "it's justified to be contemptuous of so-and-so's veiled dog whistle transphobia, but it's really shitty to be contemptuous of someone for being able to control their mental illness less well than you can, or for choosing to live in conditions you deem 'gross'."

Another thing that's happening is, as implied by the second clause, I judge myself extremely harshly. I think that's not always immediately obvious these days because I tend to have a better sense of self-worth than I used to, and because I can get very defensive in the face of harsh criticism or criticism from people I care deeply about. But it's there-- the defensiveness is largely a reaction to it, an attempt to keep me from swinging hard back into "I'm the worst person in the whole world and I deserve to die immediately" thought patterns. One thing about judging yourself harshly, though, is it usually spills out on to other people at least a little bit. Even if consciously your feeling is "well, these rules only apply to ME, I'm the only one who ought to be PERFECT, I have totally different standards for others," that might not be true at all subconsciously. And it boils over, it breeds a sense of resentment towards people who are "allowed" to be flagrantly imperfect in ways you've denied yourself and who demand that other people make room for that imperfection and meet their needs instead of feeling ashamed and trying to erase/undo/hide their needs. The truth is, you have to stop being contemptuous or judgmental towards yourself before you can stop being that way towards others, and I never quite got the trick of it.

...In part because a third thing that's happening is, of course, that my idealized self-image is really bound up in being someone who doesn't judge other people except for actually very harmful/hateful stuff, is open-minded, is tolerant and accepting. I would say "is kind," but I'm not sure how many people think of me or have ever thought of me that way. Still, kindness is very much something I strive for. Yet ultimately, I think this is often more because I want to be a person I would consider beyond reproach, an admirable person, a person who can more or less unproblematically be called "good," than because of genuine compassion and care towards others. And knowing this about myself, how can I not judge myself for it? How can I not insist to myself that I should be a better person, with better motives? How can I let it go? It's one of the things I dislike most in others, in part because it's so dangerous-- I've seen all kinds of awful places caring more about the safety of your self-image as "a good/kind person" than about listening to and empathizing with others can lead.

...and also in part because a fourth thing that's happening is, I feel like other people are constantly, silently judging me, mostly in profoundly negative ways, All Of The Time. I feel like I have to be on the defense against that; it's a kind of dysfunctional hyper-vigilance. Often I find myself formulating counter-arguments in my head to nasty things someone might hypothetically say to and/or about me one day. This is hard to combat because it's simultaneously an insane, exaggeratedly fearful, and honestly pretty egotistical way to think about one's interactions with other people, and also something that's sort of based in reality. In some of the ways I was treated as a child and adolescent. In ways I regularly observe others talking and behaving online. In the fact that I regularly encounter casual hate speech directed at people similar to myself. In the fact that each year I will have a scattered handful of disproportionately upsetting interactions where others are mean to me on the basis of an honest mistake or a trait I can't help having or the way I decide to present myself to the world, or where people I care about jump to conclusions about me in a manner I find really unfair. When I'm in an argument or a loved one is criticizing me, it can feel like, Okay, I already knew you were contemptuous of me, barely tolerating me, I knew it all along, now I'll strike back.

How do I fix this problem with my heart? I don't know. Admitting it is probably the first step. I think a lot of other people also have this problem, and I think most never confront it in a completely honest way, because that's super hard and involves striking an almost impossible balance between being able to make a really harsh, potentially ego-destroying self-evaluation, and being able to have compassion for yourself, and forgive yourself, and be patient with yourself.

[loverboy-cc]

I had to restart his save since it got corrupted- which means it’s time for a new ref!!

I’ve committed to the fact that this man dresses like an 80s dad in any modern au.

Tries very hard to read as the ideal paladin, good morals, strong sense of justice n what have you. He is unfortunately full of trauma and identity issues, fear of his god is a HUGE THING and breaking his oath accidentally is a perpetual anxiety too.

I’ve also decided he has the shittiest, patchy ass beard. Usually he’s clean shaven bc he doesn’t like having facial hair but he’s not quite adept enough with a dagger to shave with one and tries exactly once to shave (failing miserably, much to Astarion’s entertainment) before giving up until act 3 when he buys himself a new razor.

I really should draw him holding the blood of lathander more but that mf is agonizing to draw man there are, so many layers to it.

I finally remembered to draw his glasses on his ref, yippee.

I’m making him an actual dnd character sheet so I’ll probably attach that once it’s done

I’m side tracked I’m supposed to be talking about his lore huh

Whoops

Anyway, tw for abandoment (passing mention) emotional abuse, death (of a parent + en masse,) mental illness that’s being ignored, chronic pain and illness (also being ignored until he can’t)

His actual like- lore lore is below the break.

Born in the underdark, his mom fucked off with him bc the underdark isn’t a great place to live generally speaking, and she had the means. His dad decided last minute to stay in the underdark.

Taken in by the temple of lathander in elturel bc his mother was chronically ill and not expecting or able to be making this kind of journey on her own with a very small child. Ended up being moved from the temple to a hospital after it was determined that she probably wasn’t getting better.

Charlie ended up being mostly raised by the temple, went to school there and was taught how to read and write + basic math. But spent most of his free time working to pay for his mother’s (and soon his own) medication.

Turns out the of the myriad of issues his mother delt with (migraines, persistent nausea and dizziness, chronic joint issues) were genetic, so by time he hit puberty he was working his ass off to pay for it.

You may ask me “cake, didn’t that aggravate his joint issues?” Yes. Badly. He was not given any other options, the fact that they were alive at all was a godsend (I use the word godsend intentionally, he believes, strongly, that lathander is keeping him alive for some reason beyond his understanding, that is the root of his devotion.)

Did you order mommy issues? Hope so bc he has them in spades. You can only be hear your dying mom say she regrets saving you life as a literal toddler so many times before it starts fucking you up, and she said it (and other delightful(/sarc) things) plenty in the months leading up to when she died.

Shortly after her death, and suddenly needing to work way less (his medication was significantly cheaper than his mothers) he devoted himself to the temple, and was eventually approached bc some kids he went to school with to see if he wanted to join their little class thing. The temple liked to train their folks in groups of 4, in hopes of building strong teams should they choose to stay together.

He agreed, and found out that the temple would pay for his medication in exchange for dedicating himself fully to his training and his studies (and occasionally them using him as a scout, being small, naturally stealthy, and decently quick had its advantages.)

Took his oath with one of the other people he was trained alongside when he was 17, and they were collectively sent to continue their training at the nearby Fort Morninglord.

Things were solid, until he was sent along with a group of seniors to Baldurs Gate as a sort of test to see how he would do on a longer mission before officially joining the Order of the Aster.

He did well, all things considered. Unfortunately between him leaving and returning is when Fort Morninglord got eaten by the shadowfell for some reason. (That’s a canon event btw)

So, with all his friends presumably dead, maybe worse, and all his shit left inside a heavily guarded, very cursed fort. He did the reasonable thing, and fucked right off.

He ended up joining one of the seniors he went to Baldur’s Gate with in going to Waterdeep, while they didn’t particularly need another paladin. The temple of lathander in Waterdeep accepted them both until they were able to find stable employment.

Charlie mainly did small jobs for merchants, working as a guard for high value stuff, moving cargo on/off boats, mostly physical labour. It didn’t pay particularly well, but he could afford a little room above a tavern, and his medication.

That’s where he was, and how he lived for almost 130 years until he got wormed.

May or may not be blindly devoted to Lathander bc of… all that. literally any bad thing to occur to him is swiftly written off as a test of his faith, surprising to damn near everyone he is not one for converting people. (He definitely reads like he would though, it’s the theology special interest, there are few gods he won’t speak extensively on. He just defaults to lathander)

Fr though? Having trouble finding a god to worship? Ask him, he will give you an answer or more accurately- a list.

Yknow when you sprinkle random facts into your characters to make them less flat? Yeah my man collects maps, particularly outdated ones.

The only reason he’s not fucked post-worm is bc it fends off the worst of his usual symptoms. He has conflicted feelings about it (on one hand, being able to put honey in his coffee and not feel like his brain is exploding is nice, on the other, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.)

Post game he is left in a… state. He’s gotten used to life with less pain and is absolutely bedridden for a WHILE bc suddenly he’s being hit with his usual pain n symptoms but he’s not used to it anymore so it’s absolutely destroying him.

[whitestopper]

Before Season 2, I thought that Tao's father had left Tao and Yan, and since Tao('s actor) is mixed white and Asian, it could've been shown that Tao's anxiety over fitting in as a half-Asian boy in a white school started from a young age. Maybe his father told Yan to stop teaching him Cantonese, or not letting him bring egg noodles for packed lunch. Maybe Yan would agree out of fear that Tao wouldn't assimilate with his classmates or maybe she'd just agree so he wouldn't cause a fight about it. Just little things that started building up the idea that being 'too Asian' would make Tao unlikeable, which would then reach its peak when his white father leaves him.

Or if Tao's dad needs to be good but dead so Yan can speak happily about him without any issues, then Tao could've just had a bad time at school. Teachers expecting him to be a minority model student (quiet, polite and getting exceptional grades) and peers doing racist stuff like broken accents and stretching their eyes. His parents could do their best to make sure that his spark isn't dulled but his insecurities still come out, especially at school where they started.

Now I'm speaking as a white-passing half south-east Asian who was spared being targeted - to my memory the school I went to, while having all white staff, had a decent of mix of white and (east to south) Asian kids. But make no mistake, kids are very much exposed to racism and internalising it. My brother and I were younger than 10 when we learned about the aforementioned racist imitations. We watched Family Guy (to my mum's displeasure) and Eurocentric beauty standards are very clear (and I did internalise the idea that because I was 'ugly', I should put my pride into being 'smart'). And when I became a teenager who realised just how detached I was to my Asian heritage - to the point of thinking myself as less than half-Asian due to lack of exposure - it very much fucked with my sense of self and made me feel like a tourist/outsider when trying to get in touch with it.

All this to say, you can get away with not addressing race when your story is centred around two white boys and poc are just side stories (I mean, you shouldn't and you can't really, but you can), but when you're trying to bring poc to the spotlight, it's really bad to only acknowledge homophobia, mental illness and passing sexism/transphobia (Elle's experiences with transphobia are only mentioned as happening at Truham, but who really believes that the homophobes at Higgs are trans allies?) and not racism, colorism, or xenophobia. Like, does Elle being able to pass as cis supercede the fact that she will never pass as white? Is there not a certain reason Tara struggled to accept that she was a lesbian for longer than Darcy did? Would Tao not have had experience with white peers who bully him and white peers who don't stand by him?

And I won't say much on it as a cis woman, but as Asian men are emasculated as 'weak', Tao's seemingly inexplicable aggression towards Nick becomes... well, explicable when you recontextualise it as (subconsciously) trying to match the white masculine ideal of aggression.

[rigelmejo]

In unrelated language stuff. Japanese really is... a mountain. Its a language I try a lot of studying experiments with, for one because its going to be many more years of study so I'm having fun, but also 2 because it has so many hurdles i personally have difficulty with so I am always hopeful some experiment will help things I study click better.

Like. Conjugation was hard to me in french, and there were english cognates to lean on, it is a fairly regular language conjugation wise (japanese has more exceptions i tend to forget how to conjugate). Then in japanese, everything being a very different word order combined with the information dense conjugation makes me even more confused.

A few things worked quite well for me in japanese study. One was nukemarines LLJ memrise decks, which after 2 years of studying other things, i crammed in 6 months and went from 300 words known from Genki and maybe 100 hanzi from Heisig RTK (yes i really didnt learn much in 2 years) to 1000-2000 words recognized and basic grammar and able to read Yatsubo and play Kingdom Hearts 2 in japanese (granted i know the game very well in english). Ever since then, ive been able to read manga and look words up to learn, or follow roughly a lets play of a game i know. I can never focus on anki long, but i recognize its use, especially when i was using the LLJ deck which had hanzi, common words in sentenced, and grammar. Since then, i havent used as organized of a resource. So i squander a lot more time, trying to figure out what to study.

Then I did Clozemaster sincerely for a couple months once in japanese. I think i only got through like 1000 cards. But it FINALLY helped me understand stuff like される られる word endings. Tragically, i forgot what they mean. But forca solid 6 months after my rime with Clozemaster cramming, i finally understood a lot of the grammar that had been confusing me. I desperately need to refresh that knowledge (if anyone has any good quock grammar explanation notes theyve seen). I only remember teimasu is like "ing" doing verb ending in english.

And I did japaneseaudiolessons, and the old glossika cd lessons, on and off. And each time i use audio for a while, i do make good progress. I seem to learn very well from audio. In particular, hearing so much japanese FINALLY got me used to the word order. So i struggle much less to follow sentences. Whereas before the massive listening practice, i would often lose the object or subject by the time i heard the verb. So i could not figure sentences out before, unless they were written, since id forget so much while trying to keep track of which word was which function. Lots of listening to audio lessons really helps me get into this rythm of intuitively knowing the order of the words and remembering the grammar through the whole sentence. Thats partly why i keep trying to study with more audio: its rhe biggest leap in terms of being able to understand japanese more instantly, to comprehend AS i hear or AS i read later (after audio study). I just cannot find another way to get my brain to internalize the word order, except LOTS of listening. The audio lessons have helped my reading skills SO much, all of my japanese listening skills so much, because now when i see eords i know i can comprehend what theyre doing in the sentence without thinking about it. And if i hear unknown words i can tell immediately if theyre subject object adjective verb time or a helper word like very/suddenly. I do plan to switch to reading study next, once I feel my vocabulary is solidly more than 2000 words (ideally 3000-5000 but lol im not sure ill find audio lessons that truly teach that much).

So yeah. Im studying japanese and chinese, on and off, as usual. And its always funny and frustrating when it hits just how much more I understand chinese. I took a 6 month ish break from studying ANY language. So ive been listening to audio lessons to review things i knew before, in Chinese and Japanese right now.

In chinese, i listened to maybe 4 hours of audio lessons review, and 2 hours of SCI mystery audiobook (i did not follow too much but hearing so many words helped jog my memory). Its been a week since starting review. Now? Well first of all, if i look at a chinese webnovel the READING skill comes back within 1 chapter and comes back before i eben did any purposeful reviews this past week. My reading skills in all languages seem to break down/be forgotten/get rusty the least. Second: now that I've reviewed for a week, I can understand almost all words in The Untamed (and the eordw i dont know i have been quickly google translatkng just to realize ITS WORDS I KNEW I JUST FORGOT THEM. Like 鬼 i cant believe i forgot gui its one of the first words i learned! Its in a lot of stuff i read and watch lol! Or 放手 i really forgot fangshou existed, i swear my brain just held onto hanzi as images fine but when i just HEAR a word i dont recognize it until i review it again... hence why SO much listening stuff im doing right now). I listened to 默读 audio drama last night and for the first 20 minutes i followed everything. I would guess i know at least 90% of the words (if i havent forgotten some - as with 镇魂 i knew over 95% of the words 8n most chapters right before i took my 6 month study break, and i also could read modu extensively at that point and get the main idea... since i knew thw english translation to guess bits). To be fair? With the audio drama, i did have the aid of knowing the plot already. But ive known modus plot a LONG time, and in the past i struggled to follow the audiodrama anyway, because compared to the audiobook it had less details forcme to use as a crutch to figure out what scene i was hearing. So me listening to rhe audio Drama yesterday, and following so much? Great. Ive also been listening to the mdzs audiobook, which has been brain frying as i started a week ago before realizing i needed to review the sounds of words lol. But also brain frying because the opening monologue words confuse me In Text form, so in audio form it took me 4 listens to realize they were saying the jiang jin nie lan clans fought wei wuxian etc etc. I heard meng and just completely forgot it meant clan, so my brain kept doing things like "is Xmeng a word i know?" It took me 2 listens to realize the next part was Wei Wuxian in mo manor, and 4 listens to realize mojia was MO FAMILY because id been going "mojia sounds familiar, do i know that word?" The last few listens lol. I also forgot fuchou! How! Anyway. Its an accomplishment. I have never had as much success listening to a BRAND NEW audiobook in chinese of something i havent read before, and been able to understand this much. Its not a lot, im just grasping a lot of phrases and the main scene ideas. And i do have my knowledge of The Untamed plot to help me guess. But its going better than listening to audiobooks used to go. And i see a Huge improvement in dialogue. When people talk now (except the guy who tells exposition stories), i find those words are easiest to recognize and quickly remember again. I think part of it is just: dialogue tends to be more direct communication of ideas, whereas descriptive narration can get creatively phrased and meander and discuss details in phrases i havent heard as much as ive heard conversational phrases. Like when i listened to SCI audiobook last weekend, i could follow some of the dialogue portions great, like at crime scenes, arguing, with their boss, it was the descriptions in between where id get lost for a while.

Its just sort of frustrating and sad how much stusying japanese is like hitting a brick wall and learning tiny chip by tiny chip as it wears gradually, and also grateful my mind clicked with chinese because im so over the moon i did NOT have to struggle as much with chinese. For chinese i thankfully could pretty much do exactly what i did when learning to read french, and i improved on that old study plan, and as a result chinese improvement went by faster than when i initially studied french and floundered for a while. I was reading priest novels by the end of year 1 of study (with a click translator like Pleco). The study plan was simple, worked fine. The confusing parts of grammar clicked with enough reading (after maybe 100 chapters of things), and now (likecwith french) my main grammar issues with chinese are learning to produce them right in speaking and writing. But in reading it just clicks and i know what it means immediately. I dream of the day ill finally get whats going on with japanese verbs and grammar ;-;

[fierceawakening]

Something that you might find useful is "A Mediation of Boundaries" by Unit of Caring (google will bring it up). Big part is the conclusion at the end, that proper boundary setting is to be able to tell people that their need is valid and worthy and even though they deserve for somebody to fulfill that need, you cannot be the one to do it. Contrary to what it sounds like, being upfront about saying no actually creates a culture of kinder, happier people.

That helps, but I think it is still off?

Like, everyone wants to be understood, but if she’s abusive (whether she’s intentionally and knowingly cruel or self deluded or whatever)… then it’s highly likely no one else can fulfill that need either, just because they will also be harmed.

Which is the real thing I’m wrestling with here. The tumblr meme that says that everyone who has a disability, or a divergence, or a mental illness, deserves someone who loves them fully even when their symptoms are at their worst, confuses and kind of frightens me.

Not because most of us are terrifying and bad, but because some of us… kinda are. Some of us have the kinds of defense mechanisms that mean that in general we’re less able to treat others with full respect.

And that I think is something that I wrestle with. If I’m her child and even I can’t give her that understanding, Will her friends be able to? What I wrestle with is… maybe not. Maybe she really would have to find some deeper awareness of how she’s affecting others to get that.

And that’s what I think I wrestle with about what tumblr says. Ideally there really is someone for everyone! But I left just world theory behind decades ago. Which means some people—some of them with legitimate disabilities or mental illnesses—may never get whs5 they need, or may have to look inward and try to change their behavior even if their personality is fixed.

That’s not ableism. That’s life isn’t fair.

That’s not something we can fix by tabooing words, or bu explaining that not everyone with x diagnosis does y.

That’s only something we can acknowledge. Only something we can tell ourselves: it’s good that you care. But it’s not yours to solve.

This is, not at all coincidentally, why I went back to Christianity despite not literally believing God exists. If there is a concept or character called Jesus who forgives without limit, then even if no other human could fully forgive mom… there’s someone out there, even just as a concept, who can and does.

I can give that over to him, hard as it is, because she’s still a person no matter how she treats me or anyone else… but I can’t keep getting hurt.

[flowercrowncrip]

hey echo, i'm really relieved you made it through the weekend and i'm so excited for your merfolk costume! i've always loved swimming and mer and, since becoming a wheelchair user myself, i've found imagery of mers using mobility aids creatively inspiring. i may have to try my hand at crocheting an eel or shark tail blanket for halloween

what i'm really writing in to say is that i had surgery a few weeks ago, intersex reconstructive surgery (stage one) under the "guise" of gender affirming surgery (for insurance purposes!) and i haven't been able to use my wheelchair at all during recovery. the farthest i can walk is to-from the restroom, but that's very dangerous, painful, and exhausting. i may need a revision to allow me to ever comfortably and safely use my chair again - this is, in part, the fault of my surgeons for not also consulting with a durable medical equipment specialist pre-op/providing one for me to consult with, but i also failed to opt out of a choice that was bundled into the surgical package normally and, for me, is FULLY cosmetic and not essential to function.

i'm really upset with myself for making the best choice for my health and mobility, and upset with my surgeons for not properly advising me as a patient. this is fixable however, i just... have to tolerate a reduced quality of life, reduced mobility, increased risk to my health, and of course the expected risks of a person with severe rheumatoid arthritis undergoing further surgery. i talk to my surgeons this week about revision! however, i was wondering if you had any advice for dealing with... feeling so frustrated with yourself over things like this? it is so, so unlike me to make such an impactfully negative choice regarding my health and mobility, and i can't help but feel stupid. my therapist (who is a trans woman herself) is very sympathetic, but isn't chronically ill, and doesn't fully grasp how impactful this is. i can't even go outside... ):

thank you so much echo, sending you all my love

That sounds like you’re going through a lot and that it’s very raw and emotional right now, which is totally understandable.

Every disabled person I know has made decisions that have harmed them. And I really mean everyone. Sometimes we don’t know what the consequences will be, sometimes it feels like the benefits will outweigh the risks, sometimes we’re pressured into making the decision that ultimately hurts us, sometimes we don’t realise how bad it will be, there’s so many reasons

I’ve certainly done it – in small ways that lead to temporary flares and in big ways that have permanently changed my body. I’ve also made decisions that could have impacted me really badly and came away, by pure luck, without anything bad happening.

I definitely have regrets over some of those choices, but I have gotten to the point where I don’t hate my past self for making them. I hope that with time you can get there too

Absolutely nobody goes through life without making choices they later regret. As disabled people we’re unlucky that a lot of our choices have higher stakes than non disabled people, but we’re still human and we can’t expect to be perfect and always get things right. And that’s okay

It doesn’t sound to me like you chose to be unable to use your wheelchair, it sounds like you chose to undergo surgery you thought would improve your life in different ways. A lot of people – most likely me included – would make that same choice. And I’m sure there are many possible worlds where you made the same choice and could still use your wheelchair safely.

I know (albeit through very different circumstances) how devastating it is to be without a wheelchair for longer periods with no clear end in sight and I offer you all the sympathy I can. I hope you can find things that bring you comfort and interest in less than ideal circumstances. I don’t know if you want advice about coping with being unable to get out, so I won’t offer any here but I’m happy to share what helped me if you ever want to know.

I wish you all the best with recovery and whatever your next steps are – whether they include revision or not.

On a less serious note I would absolutely love to see a crocheted eel or shark tail if you make one! They both sound amazing! (Or any craft projects – I love seeing what people create)

I’m the same with being inspired by how much disability comes into the stories of merfolk – chronic pain, speech loss and mobility aid use are so tied up in them that there’s so much room for disabled imagination. (And also queer imagination!)

That’s definitely a huge part of why it’s my pride outfit, and I’m really looking forward to wearing it out. I got a rainbow bubble machine today to add some extra fun to it all!

Sending you so much love in return 💜

[ryetherat]

so... percy jackson rp?

i've had this idea in my mind for... years at this point, i guess, just swimming around in the back of my mind. and it Hit me again thanks to the show so here we are

i'm not looking for a roleplay partner, which seems to be the "norm" nowadays. my plan: a pjo rp forum site, hosted on jcink or proboards, whatever works. forum roleplaying was a big part of my online experience growing up and god i just MISS it

i have basic ideas, ill put them under the cut

the bulk of the rp would be character building, threads in camp and elsewhere - but i have this main gimmick idea for "quests":

they would be primarily crafted by admin (who have first dibs for playing cabin counselors too), and assigned to players who signed up to be on the quest "waiting list". admin (which would have a shared account so it didnt matter specifically Who) would play the parts of NPCS - including monster encounters. if/when gods showed up, they would also be played by admin

i'd love to implement some sort of ttrpg dice system, with quickfire threads for combat separate but linked to the main thread. monsters would have different stats, etc. and players could even consent to character deaths when signing up for quests!

demigods wouldnt be the only type of character available to make, but it would have to be the majority. satyrs, i think, would be the most numerous "side characters", maybe nymphs around camp. those details arent important rn tho

what i'm thinking:

with admin, i'm looking for people who know how to code and create custom layouts, graphics etc. ideally, 2-3 people so its not all one one person

i'd want the timeline to be vaguely post-pjo - meaning, there are more than the 12 cabins, less unclaimed demigods, etc. but its been a while since ive read the heroes of olympus and i've barely cracked open the first trials of apollo book so idk what Happened to affect the site's timeline/lore. so in my mind, it's just post-last olympian.

also, i wouldn't want to have canon characters - at the most, they'd be NPCs that are rarely used.

i know a big thing is that people have lives, and i have no idea what the forum-rp scene is like because i haven't been involved since.... god(s) idk, around 10 years???

me personally, i have the free time to be willing to overlook the site and get everything written out; admin i would want to be more active, of course, just enough to keep things running

age-wise, it wouldnt feel right to make it a 17+ forum, this is a kid's series after all. i think 13 is the limit for most if not all forums, and i'd be fine with that. player ages shouldn't be broadcasted, we could have some sort of Minor/Adult indicator but idk if even that would be necessary.

and i'd want at least a "proficient" level of writing, whatever the terms were - rp posts wouldnt need to be whole novels, but at least a chunky paragraph that the partner could work off

i'm hoping the popularity of the show will give me a chance to actually do this >:3

so uhhhh i guess if you're interested, shoot me a dm or reply to this post? let me know if you'd want to be an admin or mod, what you'd be able to do for the site, whatever you think is important to mention. if you just want to be a normal member and rp a funny lil demigod, thats fine too! maybe we could have Special Privileges for those who join at the start!

[skylarmoon71]

HR Wells (Flash) Chapter 18

Barry wasn’t fully convinced that this woman wasn’t a threat, so he stayed on guard. Right now she was staying at Star Labs until you could leave. Presently, she’s seated in the med area, eyes staring at the wall. HR knocks at the door and her gaze turns. 

“Heya! Thought you might be hungry.” 

He placed the big belly burger bag down with a smile. She shifted a bit uneasily. 

She wasn’t blind, they were all a bit stiff around her, except for you and now HR. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” 

“I could never be afraid of you.” She means to call him out on a lie, but the way his eyes convey so much fondness, it’s hard to do. 

“I’m not her, you know. We may be doppelgangers, but we’re vastly different. “ 

“You’re still (Y/N).” 

She looks down at her feet.

“You know she might die. They aren’t weak like the beings in this dimension. “

“I know that.” He removed his hat. 

“I’m afraid that I’ll lose her.” 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to talk you out of it. Now more than ever you would be driven to go. You felt responsible for the pain your other half was now feeling. You relate with it. Her eyes mark everything. 

“Harrison.” The use of his name is a bit strange. No one had called him Harrison in years. He moves closer at the gesture she makes. When she holds out a hand to shake, he senses no ill intentions. It’s almost like an invitation. HR wears a smile, reaching and taking her hand. When their palms touch, his eyes widen. 

“HR.” 

Your call catches his attention. He turns, and you walk inside. 

“I’m pretty much packed for tomorrow. The sooner we leave the better. “

This is the goodbye he’s been dreading. You stare at your doppelganger, and HR eyes shift as she lays on the bed, turning her back to the both of you. You get the message, walking outside as you slide the door close. Both you and HR head towards the speed lab where pretty much everyone else is conversing. When you get there, Barry’s straightens. 

“How is she doing?” 

“As good as you can expect. My plan had been to stay here a few more days, but I think I’ll be leaving tomorrow. This threat is more dangerous than we realize. I can’t risk any more of them jumping through here. We need to take the fight to them. Cisco, is everything ready?” 

“I’m vibing and ready to go, just say when. “ 

That’s one less thing to worry about. 

“HR while I’m gone I’d really like it if you could-” 

“I’m going with you.” 

Your brows knit. 

Harry folds his arms, and Caitlin sends him a sympathetic look. 

“HR, you can’t. We have no idea how the atmosphere there will affect you. (Y/N) has her ring, that may be the one thing that can stand universal changes. “ 

You know he’s scared. So are you. But you can’t risk him going there. 

“I know how you feel, HR, trust me.” 

“You have no idea how I feel. “ 

This time, it’s different. His tone, his expression. 

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I’d die for you (Y/N).” You let out a breath, swallowing at the purpose in his voice. 

“I’m going with you.” HR opens his palm, and you’re stunned at the brilliant pink glow that emits from the ring in his hand. Everyone is just as taken. You gasp. 

“H-HR where did you..” 

“He has all the prerequisites for a lantern.”

Your doppelganger steps out from the hallway. 

“I thought I imagined it when we first met. That glow in his eyes. The light I sensed when he was near you. It’s not a coincidence. He’s the same as my Harrison. He has the same need to protect you. The one I’ve always held for my husband. “ 

She no longer has a ring on her finger, and suddenly it makes sense. 

“I’m done fighting. I think the reason I was brought here wasn’t for revenge. I suppose the universe knew this battle was over for me. The same way it knows there’s one waiting for the both of you. A fight only you two can stop.” She shoves her hands in her pockets. 

“I can’t make up for all the lives I took with some twisted ideal of love, but I know that I can do this. You’re meant to do great things, I knew it the moment I saw both of you.” She turns to you. 

“Don’t make the same mistake I did. Let him fight by your side, not from the sidelines. If things get too hairy, I’ll be there. You know how to call me Harrison.” She turns her wrist, and the ring in his hand gives a slow pulse. She smiles. 

“Don’t go getting killed, otherwise I’ll hunt you down myself. “ 

That’s the last thing she says before she flicks her wrist. You don’t see much, she steps through what looks like an invisible wall. In a matter of seconds, she’s gone. You can’t do much more than gape. 

“Well damn, you’re a lantern too. I could use one of those snazzy rings.” 

Cisco reached for the ring, plucking it from HR’s hand. The second HR is no longer holding it, the light vanishes. Cisco turns it, inspecting it carefully. 

“Huh.” 

He hands it back to HR, and the light returns with a vengeance. HR looks almost hypnotized. 

Barry and Caitlin wear a small smile.

“I guess there isn’t much of a choice. You were chosen, HR.” 

You’d like to deny it, but it seems true. You’d been so hell bent on protecting everyone that you forgot that HR was feeling just as helpless. His pleading eyes turn on you. 

“Please, let me fight with you.”

At this point he’s begging. You take his hands, nodding. 

“Alright.” 

HR’s face lights up immediately, and he hugs you so tightly. You return it, burying your face into his shoulder. 

Sometimes you needed to remind yourself that you didn’t have to do it all on your own. 

You had friends. 

Family.