#cw: vitamin d deficiency

[avocadosalad]

Welcoming new members to the “keep Anna from wanting to kill herself” team.

The already hardworking team members Zoloft and weekly therapy welcome you!

#cw sui mention #pmdd #vitamin d deficiency

[wri0thesley]

canicular - yandere kaveh x fem!reader x yandere alhaitham (6.8k)

it's a tough lesson to learn.

cw: yandere. mentions of past dub-con, non-con (non-explicit), physical punishment. abuse. reader is referred to by feminine pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

If there is one thing you are not short on, it is time.

Though Alhaitham provides what he thinks are stimulating ways to pass your existence, you do not often feel inclined to read the thick tomes of Sumeru history or ancient language studies that he leaves on the table for you. Nor do you have any inclination towards the other hobbies he has tried to get you to pick up, in order to keep your hands busy and your brain exercised - what desire have you to do a jigsaw puzzle or a book of word games when you feel like a caged tiger, pacing uselessly back and forth with no end in sight?

Kaveh, at least, tries to get you to occupy your long hours with things that are transporting. His own pencils and papers and paints (a sad smile on his face when he caresses your cheek and sighs and says ‘why don’t you try drawing where you would rather be?’). Alhaitham tries to improve you; to mould you into what he expects you to be and what he wants you to be and what he thinks you ought to be.

Kaveh, at least, sees you as something human, with human needs and human feelings and human wants. Wants that are not half an hour of cursory sunshine so you do not develop a Vitamin D deficiency, not a meal chosen entirely for nutritional properties and not how it might taste in your mouth (Alhaitham is not a cook - you always prefer Kaveh’s meals, though the Scribe clicks his tongue and says things about how there’s no health benefits to the nostalgic desserts that Kaveh tries to get Alhaitham to let him make for you).

Kaveh sees in you the human need for companionship and sympathy and something other than Alhaitham’s blank face when you rage at him and sob and pound on his chest and demand he let you go home. Something other than Alhaitham’s insistence that this is better for you; that he is a good master, that your life is simpler and more suitable now, that he is simply putting the world to rights by taking you as his-- his pet, his dog, his slave, his lover--

What are you truly, again? Other, of course, than his?

In lieu of being Alhaitham’s dog in need of training, when you can, you gravitate to the architect - who wouldn’t, when your other option is a man who watches you cry and replies only with: “And what are you hoping to gain from your tears, exactly?”? And Kaveh, in return, gives you his own sympathy and his sighs and a stroke of your hair that has no hidden meaning at all, you’re sure, but his desire to comfort.

If sometimes you let him take you, after all of the comfort - if you spread your legs for him and sigh and nose against his neck and murmur soft sweet appreciation - that is neither here nor there. You have such precious little opportunity to make decisions for yourself, so why should you not? You tell yourself fiercely, with your mouth wine-stained with Kaveh’s lips, that you would make the same decision were you not a prisoner. Kaveh is the kind of man you would have sought out for yourself, you decide. And he never takes advantage; never makes the first move, waits for your sniffles and hesitant kisses and shaking hand as it traces the elegant line of his collarbone.

But Kaveh is not always home. Kaveh goes into the desert, works for weeks on a project somewhere else in Sumeru wherever his architectural genius is summoned, and leaves you to the untender mercies of the man who caused all of the heartache in the first place.

Alhaitham is never later than ten minutes after work (and on those occasions, his normally calm face has a twitch of fury about it). He never forgets what time he has set your meals for, never forgives an order that has gone unfulfilled (and you have the marks over buttocks and thigh and back to prove that), never lets you answer back or skip out on one of his ordained rituals for your health. He is a constant; a knife that carves out your life, ever sharpened and ever ready.

You practically throw yourself at Kaveh when he returns, if you have been alone with Alhaitham too long. Bury your head in his neck and sigh about how you missed him the moment that you can get him alone, smile and thank him with earnest words when he produces some treasure he saw whilst he was out and about and gifts it to you (they are never lavish gifts; Kaveh does not have the Mora to spare. But a fresh Zaytun peach or a Sumeru Rose plucked from the wildest parts of your nation is a treasure to you nonetheless, when your life is a narrow square of home-and-garden you are not permitted to leave).

. . . It is easier to force yourself not to notice the way Kaveh’s golden eyes catch yours after the gift, as if he is waiting for and expecting the kiss that you press onto his lips as a thanks that never seems to end at just a kiss.

Kaveh’s comforts do not come often enough, in your opinion. Certainly their number does not match up to that of Alhaitham’s firm commands - his lips on yours, his hand on the top of your head forcing you to your knees, his insistent quizzing on the book he left for you today that you have not so much glanced at, his carefully marked schedules of when you should eat and when your period is due and all of the other minutiae of life you had never stopped too long to consider before.

In the past, you had not needed to dwell on these things. You had daydreamed some, of course, of some loving faceless significant other who might hand-feed you slices of Harra Fruit and write you poetry and curl against you until you felt like the two of you were one - but you had always had faith that this would come for you. Perhaps when you least expected it, a fanciful fairytale dropped from the sky into your waiting lap--

You had not reckoned on Alhaitham.

If nothing else, he has provided you with plenty of hours to daydream. An endless yawning, stretching chasm of a future that you try to fill with the paints Kaveh brings you, with constant machinations about an escape route. Sometimes when you imagine leaving, you are hand in hand with a blond man with a smile like a fresh flower blooming, feather haphazardly stuck in his hair, a promise to somehow find enough Mora to build a pretty little cottage in the middle of nowhere where one does not have to worry about stern silver-haired scholars.

You have the time.

Summer in Sumeru is difficult at the best of times. Under Alhaitham’s captivity (you never think of it as Alhaitham-and-Kaveh, so certain are you that the architect would free you if only Alhaitham were not in the picture), it is even worse. You can no longer open the door and stroll out into the Grand Bazaar, where the air is darker and cooler. You can no longer stop off at some merchant or another to buy a cool treat, take a dip in one of the lakes if you so feel like it - all you can do is try and find the shadiest spot in the locked house, lie upon your back and wish for a breeze or two.

“You shouldn’t stay there all day,” Alhaitham says, reproach evident in his voice, when he comes home at seven minutes past five in the afternoon like he always does. “Your muscles will atrophy.”

You sigh in response, long used to the fact that if you argue he will twist your words around until you’re sure of nothing - if you argue too much, you’ll lose some other privilege you hadn’t realised was a privilege until Alhaitham had taken it away.

(Once it had been hot water that you’d had removed, and Alhaitham had stood in the bathroom with you as cold water drenched your hair and your body and gooseflesh broke out along your skin, his face unmoving despite your nakedness. You know that he does, at least, hold some attraction to your naked form - the fact he had not let even a flicker of desire cross his face as you shivered and shuddered there was testament to his insistence you must learn your place. Actually, though, right now, you do not think a cold shower would be a punishment. It sounds rather nice, even if Alhaitham is there to watch you with calm inexpressive eyes.)

“It would be cruel,” you say instead, “to leave a dog in these conditions all day.”

He prefers this kind of reasoning; a debate, and not an argument. If you stay calm and even and you appeal to logic, you might have a chance of survival.

“There are some folding-fans in one of the drawers,” he says. “A present from one of the Inazuman clients Kaveh worked for, I think.”

“Surely they would just blow hot air back in my face?” You ask him. He considers for a moment, looking at you on the floor where you have not moved. You are in one of the loose robe-like garments you are permitted to wear around the house (far less chance of you trying to escape, Alhaitham reasons, if you feel indecent - he has not bargained on the fact that at this point you would run naked through Sumeru City if it means breaking out of his oppressive regime), thighs bare, neckline pulled as far apart as it can go so what little air there is can touch your sweat slicked skin.

“What would you prefer?” He asks, with a note of warning in his voice that most people would not pick up on. You must tread carefully.

“Leave the window open a crack,” you suggest. “Not enough for me to get out. Just . . . enough for a breeze. So that I don’t feel the air around me is pushing down on me until I suffocate.”

“Hyperbole,” he says. “You cannot suffocate on air.”

You bite your tongue. The request shimmers in the air for a few moments, a tangible thing - Alhaitham weighs up the pros and the cons.

“No,” he says, and the thread of hope you hadn’t realised you were holding snaps. “Not whilst I’m out. Not whilst nobody is here to watch you.”

Any response you might have made dies on your lips as a key clatters in the door and it opens, a long-limbed elegant body tumbling through in record time. Kaveh always enters like this; as if he is afraid that if he takes longer than a moment, shouts will rise up around Sumeru City and mock him and his secret will be splashed across every noticeboard in town. Kaveh pretends he does not live here, because he is an important man who should be doing better. You pretend you do not live there because you are still holding your own home in your heart - your own garden of flowers and fruits, your own shelf of books and your own hobbies and things strewn across surfaces.

Alhaitham does not pretend; he merely avoids speaking to anyone about his home life. You had been as surprised as him when Kaveh had unlocked his door and walked in to see what the thumping and muffled noises emanating from Alhaitham’s room were, and had come across you. Alhaitham had not mentioned a roommate to you even before your captivity, and Alhaitham had not mentioned a pet human to Kaveh at any point in time or given any indication this was the kind of thing he would do.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kaveh had said, immediately upon seeing you, crouching down next to you, his hand hovering by the gag wedged into your mouth. “I . . . did Alhaitham do this to you?”

You’d nodded tearfully, and Kaveh’s eyebrows had knitted into sympathy. You recognised him only vaguely, but you did at least see the emotions flittering across his handsome, open face - so much more than you’d ever gotten from Alhaitham. Even when he’d unceremoniously locked you in his bedroom and you’d screamed yourself hoarse into a gag and rubbed your wrists sore on the rope, Alhaitham had done nothing more than raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“I’m going to take the gag away,” Kaveh had said to you, at the time. “Please don’t scream.”

He had been so earnest in the request, and you had been so grateful to see somebody who was not Alhaitham and was clearly properly horrified by your predicament and was not treating it like it was perfectly normal, that you had nodded. Calm, clever fingers had worked beneath the wedge of cotton in your mouth and pried it spit-slicked from between your lips.

“Can you speak?” He’d asked, and when you’d tried and you had not managed to get out more than a wheeze he had fetched you a glass of water and held it to your parched lips.

“I can’t untie you,” he’d said, helplessly, his gold eyes flitting to where the ropes had rubbed you raw. “Alhaitham would be . . . unhappy with me. But maybe I could try and loosen them? Move them higher up, so I can take care of the blood?”

You had thought that he must be some other prisoner of Alhaitham’s, back then. As he’d given you more sips of water and you’d hiccuped and grated out some of the story that had lead you here, and he’d nodded and made soft little noises of horror and understanding, as he’d cleaned the wounds and commiserate with you over what a brute Alhaitham was, even to him, the Scribe’s senior. He’d knuckled your bruises away so gently that you’d cried more, and admitted to him that you feared you would never feel a tender touch again.

“You poor thing,” Kaveh had repeated, looking at you with those pools of molten gold. “Don’t worry. You and I are comrades in arms. We’ll take care of one another as best we can.”

You know now that Kaveh’s predicament is not quite the same as yours - partly based on Kaveh’s own stubbornness and pride, instead of the unmoving unrelenting coldness of Alhaitham instead. But that first night, he firmly positioned himself as an ally. Had argued with Alhaitham when the Scribe had come back about how he could not gag you, could not tie you so tightly, could not leave you waterless and foodless in his bedroom all day. A knight in shining armour, you had thought - and the first thing you had done when your bonds were finally loosened was wrap your arms about the surprised blond and thank him.

“Anyone would have done the same,” he’d said, as you’d sobbed into his shoulder and Alhaitham had watched, lip curled at the corner, face unreadable. “Anyone with a heart.”

He’d held the embrace just a little too long.

“You’re home,” you say to Kaveh, back in the present, and you smile at him, a trembling, wavering thing. Sweat is beading on your brow. The brief rush of cool air that Kaveh lets in is a welcome change, and Alhaitham sighs as he walks towards the window. You notice which drawer he goes into - the tiny key that he produces from one of Kaveh’s many cubby-holes on the architect’s desk. Amongst rulers and tiny screwdrivers and silver-flashing scissors. Alhaitham allows the window to open the smallest crack - the one that looks out only into the garden, so nobody passing by might hear voices they do not expect coming from a house they know belongs to Alhaitham.

“I am,” he says, with a smile. “I brought you a present.”

“You’re spoiling her,” Alhaitham says mildly, as you turn your head to Kaveh. You hear the drawer click; another key turn. It is never so simple as ‘get a key from a drawer’. Alhaitham is not so foolish. “What has she done to deserve a present?”

“You don’t have to do things,” Kaveh argues. “It’s nice to have nice things!” You see now that he is holding a small bowl, the kind that the food stalls give out with food bought to travel with - he walks towards you with a smile on his face and holds it out. Inside of the little pale brown half-moon of a bowl are three scoops of some kind of frozen treat, and your mouth waters. You finally move from your spot on the floor to reach out for it.

“Say ‘thank you’,” Alhaitham says sharply, before your hands can close around it. “Or I’ll have it myself. No doubt he paid for it on my tab.”

Kaveh glares at him from under his pale brows but does not argue - you, with your throat dry and hot, babble out thanks to Kaveh and reach out again. Alhaitham clicks his tongue once more.

“Wait,” he tells you, command in his voice. “You’re not even going to ask me if you can have it?”

“Alhaitham--”

“She has to learn,” his voice is final, a rough lightning strike through the room, a man who has never wavered in his convictions. “A disobedient animal is no better than a wild one.”

“Please,” you say to Alhaitham, sensing that arguments are brewing, that tension is crackling. “Please may I have it.”

Green eyes catch yours and leave you hanging desperately and wordlessly for a moment. You dare not move. You wonder if he’s going to bring up you asking about the window, and use that as an excuse - or perhaps what a waste you’ve made of the day, how you should have made yourself move from the cool floorboards like you’re supposed to. You cannot breathe.

Alhaitham gives a wordless nod as he turns on his heel.

“I’m going to get out of my work clothes,” he says. “Have a cold shower. Make sure you behave, and we’ll go into the garden at dusk when it’s cooler.”

Shoulders untense. Kaveh smiles at you and holds out the bowl again. Your mouth waters as you reach for it - you barely notice that Kaveh does not relinquish the hold of his long fingers upon it until you’ve kissed him on the cheek and let him kiss you softly on the mouth in return. It does not seem important.

His own mouth tastes like the dessert, too. He did not have to wait to be brought it by some kind, sympathetic soul. He could have had as many servings as he liked.

You savour every spoonful.

You know your way around the house. You have earnt freedoms to be allowed to wander it at will - if you want to, you can go into the kitchen and fetch yourself something to eat (Alhaitham encourages that, in fact - as long as it is that you’re eating one of his approved foods). You can choose from the many tomes that line the walls, can sit in the living room or the study or on Alhaitham’s desk chair if that’s where you wish to be.

You cannot leave, of course.

Golden locks mock you wherever you look; some intricate, some simple, but none with a key you possess. You’ve seen Alhaitham with two keys to the front door - a cruel joke, when you are not even permitted one. The keys to the windows, to Alhaitham’s desk itself, to all of the drawers and the places you are not allowed to look sit side by side on Alhaitham’s keyring like sentinels guarding you from freedom.

You think about the open window, when Alhaitham cracks it just a little when he comes home. Stand by it and try and get some breeze; strain to hear the voices that are very far away, wondering what’s going on in the life you have abandoned like a missing jigsaw puzzle piece. Has the mould you had been battling with, beneath your own bedroom window, finally beaten you? The spider that dwells in your darkest bathroom corner started a family? Has post piled up on your doormat - letters that will go unanswered for who knows how long?

You have only one hiding place. One loose floorboard, in the very corner of Alhaitham’s room - Kaveh doesn’t go in there often, or you’re certain the architect would have noticed it. You keep some trinkets in there - a dried flower Kaveh had once put in your hair, a necklace he had given you made of cheap beads that he’d bought from some do-gooder selling them for charity.

(Alhaitham had seen you wearing it and pursed his lip; later on that night, when he’d taken you into the shower to wash your hair, he had unclipped it and dropped it into the wastepaper bin.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he’d said. “It will just break and the beads will scatter everywhere. There’s no reason to be giving you any presents right now.”

Whilst you’re sure he meant all of those things too, there’d been something else running through the current of his words; I don’t want you to wear anything that I don’t pick out for you. You’re mine, and if anyone were to collar you . . . it would be me.)

And, your greatest treasures of all - loose Mora, left about the house by Alhaitham and Kaveh. Alhaitham is always complaining about Kaveh dusting and tidying and moving money and not telling him where it has gone - sighing over Kaveh not paying enough attention to things. The idea that you would take it does not cross his mind. He doesn’t know about your hiding spot, so in his mind you’d have nowhere to keep it--

But, too, there is this.

You stay in his home all day, a mostly well-behaved prisoner. He provides you with nutrition and food and clothes. He provides you with attention (whether you want it or not). You have nowhere to go, nothing to buy, and not a single reason to have even a coin to yourself. What would you do with Mora?

It is one of the places his rationality fails him.

In both small and large denominations, you have more than enough Mora to make it to Liyue, Mondstadt, and far away from Sumeru stashed away on a boat to the island nation of Inazuma, where even Alhaitham (you’re certain) could not drag you from your new life.

Kaveh is the one who gives you the opening, in the end. He and Alhaitham have an argument in the early morning - from your position wrapped in Alhaitham’s sheet, you half-listen. It’s about you. It often is. Kaveh is trying to argue with Alhaitham about how he should be allowed to take you out with him into the garden in the morning, that the one half-hour of sunlight is not enough and perhaps you and Kaveh could even cultivate a little flower-patch out there, to give you something to do--

It’s a well-worn argument, one that Alhaitham always wins. Kaveh is not responsible enough to be in sole charge of you outside, Alhaitham says. He spoils you too much. You smile into your pillow as you imagine that little cottage once more, of tending to a garden with Kaveh--

Kaveh slams the door on the way out. Alhaitham comes back to you to rouse you from bed, sighing over Kaveh, scolding you for not getting up yourself - he, too, is distracted by the argument, and that distraction does not ease. He is working from home today, he tells you, so the window can be cracked all day.

At seven in the evening, the window has still not been closed, and Alhaitham has pulled you onto his lap to read with you perched there. At eight in the evening, Alhaitham grits his teeth that Kaveh hasn’t come back yet and tells you he is going to the tavern to drag his ungrateful roommate home--

And he leaves with the window still cracked.

At quarter past eight, Kaveh is dragged into the room smelling of wine and Alhaitham follows him in, sullen as ever. He still does not notice the cracked open window, as he drags Kaveh into the bathroom and commands him to brush his teeth, to splash himself with cold water and pull himself together.

The window has not been seen to. The drawer that he had put the window key back into remains unlocked.

When Alhaitham returns to the main room, you pretend to be worried over him. You ask if there’s anything you can do, framing it as a kind of shaking fear the Scribe may take out his frustrations on you, and you let Alhaitham take you into his bedroom to work off the stress.

You stare into the empty space behind his shoulder while he’s inside of you and think about slipping through the open window and out into the world again.

The next morning, Alhaitham chances a gaze at the window and nods to himself when he sees it - for all intents and purposes, locked. You’d shimmied the frame up painstakingly slowly last night when you’d murmured about needing the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t remember. He’d grumbled in his sleep but had not protested.

He leaves the same time he always does - Kaveh, slumped in his own bedroom from the hangover, stays where he is.

And you hold the unlocked window like a secret flame in the candle of your heart.

You still do not dare do anything until an hour after Alhaitham has left, terrified that he will return and you will be punished horribly for daring to think escape would be possible. But as time ticks on, and the sun rises higher in the sky, you begin to convince yourself that this is all going to be fine.

You go into the living room and to the window. It leads out into the garden, but that is fine; you can scale a fence. That is no difficult task after everything else you’ve been through. You test it, wiggling it open just a crack, and a light breeze hits your heated face as excitement begins to rise in your bones.

Back into Alhaitham’s rooms to go beneath the floorboards and take your little pouch of Mora, heavy in your hand as you tie it with cord around your waist. You do not have a bag, and your flimsy robe has no pockets - but those are things to be thought of later. Perhaps you will take some well-worn dress from a washing line, where it dries in the wind. Perhaps you can spare a few coins for something that does not show off the ample curves of your body so much. You can allow yourself, now, to think of those things.

Content, you open the window wider. You let yourself linger there in front of the window for longer, fresh air on your face and the promise of escape playing a siren’s melody. This time tomorrow, you will be free.

You look towards Kaveh’s bedroom and smile.

So will he.

All of those dreams you’ve had can be made reality; you will both find yourself out from beneath Alhaitham’s thumb with a future stretching ahead of you, together. You can repay Kaveh for his kindness - can sometimes be the one to bring him a gift of flowers or fruits or a beautiful leaf on the ground. You can walk hand in hand with him and this will be but a distant memory.

You rap softly on his door.

“Kaveh?” You call into the crack of the hinge. “Are you awake?”

Kaveh mumbles your name. Stirring from within his room, as he moves about it, a murmured response that he’ll be out as soon as he’s decent - you can barely wait. Unrestrained tension fizzes through all of your veins, excitement and pleasure and anticipation. You let yourself imagine him boosting you out of the window, both of you laughing as you tumble onto the grass beneath the windowsill--

His door opens and he stands there, dark shadows beneath his eyes and his hair more ruffled than usual but the kind smile that you have grown so fond of firmly on his face.

“I have something to show you,” you tell him, tugging his arm. “Come on, come with me!”

“Is it a new painting?” He asks, mildly, letting himself be dragged along with that smile still on his face. “Ah, have you found another lovely tale in one of those books you want to read to me? I do adore you, you know--”

You pull him into the living room and, with a bright, optimistic look on your face, motion to the wide-open window where the wispy white curtains are fluttering in the breeze.

Kaveh does not speak for a time.

He swallows.

You can see his thoughts racing behind his eyes and you mistake them for fear; trepidation of a life with nothing. But that’s alright; you have made provisions for such things!

You jingle the Mora, as those sharp golden eyes move from you to the window and back again.

You give him a hopeful smile, all bright eyes and idealism that you’ve always thought he’d share with you. Freedom calls; a life away from Alhaitham. “We can leave,” you say. “We can go out through the window! A whole future, Kaveh, together--!”

Kaveh is still not smiling back at you.

“I--I’ve thought of everything,” you say, falling over your words as Kaveh does not immediately fall upon your open escape route. “We can go to Inazuma, I have enough Mora, we can put as much distance between us as possible and you . . . architects are needed everywhere, we might have to sleep rough a while and I know you’re not that used to it and it might seem scary but we could get a little cottage together and a g-garden and . . .”

You tail off as Kaveh’s gaze stays trained on you, pitying, sympathetic. He should be delighted. He should be pleased. He’s looking at you the way that Alhaitham looks at him, when Kaveh gets started on one of his talks about how everyone in the world is good at their core. You have always agreed with him - mostly.

(“Present company excluded,” Kaveh had said once, waving a hand, wine glass in his grasp, at Alhaitham. You had laughed, and Alhaitham had made you bend over his knee and spanked you hard upon your rear ten times as Kaveh silently watched).

“Stay calm,” Kaveh says softly. “Step away from the window, darling. Let’s talk about this instead.”

Dawning comprehension settles about you like the hot summer air.

It seems a foolish thing not to have realised before all of this - you suppose, in Kaveh’s sweet soft smiles and cooing gentle voice and his whirlwind way of coming and going, you have never stopped to think about it. Your voice comes out dry as old paper.

“You’ve had a key the whole time.”

“I live here,” he says. “Surely you realised I’d have to let myself in and out--”

“You could have let me go any time.” Your tone is flat. Kaveh looks at you, anguished, and a thousand thoughts flit into your mind - a thousand times he could have just unlocked the door and held your hand and the two of you could have walked out of the house and you could have walked right out of Alhaitham’s grasp. Instead, he had given you fruits and trinkets like you were supposed to be grateful and taken the reward of your gratitude in hungry kisses and the press of his body upon yours--

“No, darling,” he’s trying to soothe you. “I couldn’t have - you know what Alhaitham has over me, you know that he could ruin my life - I’m just as much a prisoner as you, really--”

The earnestness in his voice could almost make you forgive him. It has, in the past - when he’s knitted his brow and said of course he can’t let you out of the cage, but he’ll make it up to you when Alhaitham lets you out. You’ve written off things like that before.

No longer. Not with the window fully open, not with escape beckoning you.

“Then leave with me,” you repeat, shaking. “Come out of the window. We’ll get out of Sumeru, we’ll go somewhere nobody even cares about the Akademiya, somewhere he won’t reach--”

The bag full of stolen Mora tied about your waist feels heavy, jingling on your hip. Your throat is dry. The robe you are permitted to wear suddenly feels all the flimsier, all the more embarrassing to be seen in, full thighs on display and the curve of your chest far too revealed.

“Don’t,” he says, softly, moving towards you. He places his hands up, palms facing you, like soothing a wild animal likely to flee. “You know that wouldn’t work. You know he’d find you.”

(You, he says. Not ‘us’.)

“Kaveh!” Dreams of that little cottage and a little life slip through your fingers like grains of sand. “Don’t-- don’t you care about me? Do you want me to die here?”

“Of course I do.” He’s closer now. Your shoulders shake, lip trembling. He reaches out for you, fingers brushing your cheek. “Of course I don’t. We take good care of you. Better care than you might have gotten, before. Have I ever hurt you?”

You want to scream. You’re hurting me now!

“Alhaitham has,” you whisper. “And you . . . you’ve never stopped him.”

You’re crying, you realise, as Kaveh’s face turns into concern and he wipes a tear away.

“I can’t,” he says, with a soft little sigh like he is the injured party. “If he threw me out . . .”

“You don’t want to leave.” You try to keep your voice flat, but it cracks on the ‘want’. You want, you want, you want - and from Kaveh’s kisses, from his murmurs and his gifts and his indulgence of ‘draw the place you wish you could be’, you had always thought that he wanted too.

“I have a reputation,” he replies, steadfast. “My architecture, my name, all of the things I worked hard on--”

He doesn’t say anything about your achievements. He’d smiled at your little drawings and said how talented you were, he’d sighed over how pretty you were and how much of an inspiration you were, looked at you with such warmth in his eyes as he’d listened to you talk about your dreams and all of those little romantic fantasies you kept cherished in your heart and had thought that, perhaps, he would understand--

But now? He says nothing. As if you do not exist outside of this prison.

He thinks himself far more important than you.

“I just want some freedom,” you whisper, your face wet, your throat dry, your body feeling pulled in all ways at once. You had never envisioned that Kaveh would be like this - in all of your daydreams, he had gone willingly with you. You chide yourself now, for your own foolish romanticism - but you cannot let go of nights spent in this house with only Kaveh for comfort. “I just want a life.”

“We take care of you,” Kaveh says in a voice that sounds like a beg. “Alhaitham’s right, you’d never have lasted alone out there--”

“I was d-doing just fine.” Tears clog up your throat like ice.

“Were you?” He asks, quietly. His hand on your face feels like a brand, as he rubs his thumb over your lip and sighs, as he pulls back with a strand of your hair twirled around his finger. “Darling. The world chews up and spits out people like us, sometimes. I just want you to be safe--”

“I’m nothing like you,” you say to him, trying to be strong and failing miserably with every tremulous syllable. “We’re nothing alike, Kaveh. I would have been out of this window the moment it was opened, if we were in one another’s shoes.”

“No,” he says, and his voice is still disgustingly tender. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d see that you’re too fragile, too romantic and too lovely and too idealistic to survive for much longer. You’d see that this is the best option for you.”

“Alhaitham says you’re an idealist,” you whisper bitterly. “A romanticist. Just like me.”

Kaveh sighs.

“This could have been you,” you continue, stubbornly, bitterly, wildly grasping for something to say that could hurt even a fraction of how your heart has shattered. “In another world, you’d be where I am, and you wouldn’t be saying those things to yourself--”

Kaveh looks at you and seems to understand a kind word will not fix this; a stroke of your hair, a hidden treat. He heaves a sigh and shakes his head, instead.

“I’m going to close the window.”

You don’t reply. You stand like a statue, silent, as Kaveh walks to the window, reaches for the frame to pull it back up into position. Your future trickles out of your fingers like sand through an hourglass. The cottage is reduced to rubble by lightning storms, the flower garden does not grow, and the blond man beside you in your dreams becomes as grasping and hungry and monstrous as any nightmare has ever been.

The door clicks open once again. A voice calls out;

“I forgot to bring anything for lunch,”

And then Alhaitham walks in.

His eyes quickly take in the scene before him - you, and Kaveh, and the window that has not yet been closed.

“You forgot to close it last night,” Kaveh says, without turning around. “She wants me to leave with her.”

“And so? What will you do now, Kaveh?” Alhaitham’s voice is clipped. The question hovers in mid-air. Kaveh lets out a huff of breath through his nose, and for one horrible, glorious moment you think he is about to break and come back to your side--

“Close the window,” Kaveh replies instead. “Lock it.”

You stare at Alhaitham - as the Scribe’s lips press together and curve, in a satisfied smile. You wonder if the shattering of your heart is an audible thing, or if it simply sounds that loud in your head. The window lock clicks with a finality that makes you want to throw up.

“Good,” he says. And then he turns his attention back to you, as Kaveh moves across the room to stand just to one side of him. Kaveh’s golden eyes are apologetic - but it is not enough. Your heart has been pulled out of you and trampled upon and there is no coming back from this - no number of peaches or soft kisses or reassurances whispered into your hair that will make you ever think of him as a reprieve.

Perhaps he’s worse. At least Alhaitham does not try and hide behind anything.

You have no friends here. Just two men who, in the end, want the same thing from you.

“You understand I’m going to have to punish you?” Alhaitham asks, and his tone is reassuring in its sharpness. “Trying to run . . . when all I’m doing is giving you the best life you could possibly get?”

“I understand,” you say, exhausted. Kaveh tilts his head to one side and puts on the face that you now know is a mask; concern and worry and pity. You see your future laid bare before you like one of Kaveh’s blueprints. The summer heat seems a visible thing once more - or perhaps that’s your own anger, coalescing, at the fact Kaveh has the nerve to look compassionate.

Later on that evening, when the welts on the back of your thighs sting and you’ve been divested of even the flimsiest garment, when Alhaitham has retired to bed with his door wide open and you curl on the thin blanket of the cage that Alhaitham only uses for the very worst infractions, you slip into fitful nightmares of keys clicking in locks and lion keychains and golden-eyed masks that only lie. The summer night is no cooler. You wake up in the early morning light, golden shafts with dust motes dancing, and you see that in the night the architect has brought you a peace offering.

A small bowl sits beside the cage. The bars are just wide enough for you to reach a hand out (how many nights, in the past, has Kaveh curled his littlest finger around yours whilst you sobbed over the indignity of it?). You could take the spoon sticking out of the bowl and bring mouthfuls of the frozen dessert to your lips, letting it soften and thaw on your tongue, savouring the refreshing coldness of the treat.

You do not.

Instead, you simply sit there, caged, and you watch it melt into liquid drop by drop by drop.

#writing #commissioned work #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #yandere genshin impact #dub con cw #non con cw #yandere cw

[finniestoncrane]

Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 12: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.7k we're rockin with mark because mark is rockin with us request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst, love triangle kinda

“Where are you going this time?”

You appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, catching Eddie off guard clearly, as he jumped and turned to you.

“Sneaking away?”

“The transaction with Scarecrow. There’s more to it. I’m going out to meet his man, or men. Or woman, I suppose potentially.”

You raised your eyebrows, smiling incredulously as you brought your phone out, typing a message to Mark as you walked over to Eddie.

“Another drop off today?”

“Yep. See you soon?”

As you approached Eddie, you put your phone away, putting you hand out flat expectantly.

“What?”

“Gimme the stuff.”

“No.”

“I’ve just checked, it’s the same guy as last time. We have a rapport. Let me go.”

Irritated by your tone, the way you seemed to think you had any authority in the matter, Eddie held tight to the messenger bag. But he realised that he did indeed have better things to be doing, and so he gave in quickly, not without an insulting remark to put you in your place.

“Fine. Anyone who makes such a quick connection with someone like you is bound to be intolerable. Be back quickly though.”

Skipping out past him, you felt good, a sense of relief. It was difficult to be cooped up all the time, especially without windows or natural light. You were worried you had a vitamin D deficiency, and it was definitely impacting on your mental health. Wandering the streets of Gotham, as disgusting and terrifying as they were, was still a pleasant treat compared to being in the timeless pit with Eddie. How long had you been down there now? It was hard to tell when sleep schedules meant very little, and the days all blurred into one another. Wake, cook, be insulted, cry, sleep. In no particular order. And on repeat.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and ruminations that you didn’t see the person approaching you until you were smacking into them, quickly rushing to apologise before you placed the face.

“Sorry, so sorry, I- Oh! It’s you!”

Mark smiled, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh, so I don’t get an apology?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, sorry. H-how… are you?”

“Couldn’t be better, babe. You got the stuff? I’ll go first this time, keep your trust in me up.”

He reached into his pockets and produced another three vials of the same liquid, as well as two small pouches filled with a deep green powder. You knew better than to ask what it was. As much as you were fine with the moral ambiguity around Edward’s work, sometimes the legal ramifications of what you were involved with still struck a panicked chord in your chest.

“Babe… the stuff?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

Handing over the contents of the messenger bag to Mark, you sighed.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“Hmm… Eddie said to be back quick, but… coffee…”

You looked to your right, through the window of the coffee shop. You could smell the scent of the roasted beans wafting on the air. How long had it been since you’d had fresh coffee? Something that wasn’t brewed in the broken pot in your shabby kitchen.

“Oh, come on! Like he’s going to be that annoyed. Besides, we met almost in the middle, you still wouldn’t be at the meeting spot yet.”

“You’re right… why were you heading this way anyway?”

Mark shrugged as he stepped past you, opening the door to the café and holding it ajar for you.

“Dunno, thought it might be nice to walk with you a little bit of the way.”

Grinning, you pressed past him and took a seat by the window. Mark followed you in and leaned over the chair, elbows on the table.

“Lemme get this, what you after?”

“Uh… flat white. With three sugars.”

“Boring. I’ll be right back!”

You watched him jog to the counter, leaning against it, seeming to effortlessly charm the barista as he took the order and started work on your order. And you kept watching him, as he brought the coffees over and sat down, as he talked about his life, as he told you how he started working for Scarecrow. It was hard not to look at him. He kind of commanded your gaze. So charismatic. So friendly, and nice. Being around someone who didn’t seem to hate you and didn’t punctuate every sentence with something mean about you was refreshing, and once again, you hated to have to say goodbye. But if there was anything that would sour the mood that Mark had set, it would be Eddie’s interrogation if you were later than he expected you to be.

And right on queue, as soon as he heard you walking through the living space, he came out of his office and began his second round of questioning.

“Did you enjoy your date?”

“What? It wasn’t a date, I was doing an errand for you.”

“Yes. And the rest of the things I make you do put you in such a good mood, don’t they?”

“I take pride in my work.”

“Since when.”

“Always. But you’ve never cared to notice.”

Turning from him, you went to your room, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, shuddering as the adrenaline coursed through you. If you’d had the energy to let yourself be hurt, you would have allowed the fantastical idea that Eddie might be jealous of Mark to settle, see how it felt. But you couldn’t do that to yourself. Instead, you lay face down on your bed and forced yourself to nap.

You were wakened by a thumping on the door, jolting you out of the dream that was already fading, but which you knew involved Eddie and Mark. Opening the door, you sighed.

“What?”

“Why does it take you so long to meet with this Mark?”

“Again? Eddie, come on. It’s just… It’s nice to get out!”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, his mistrust etched onto the smouldering glare he gave you.

“Really? You would recommend it?”

“I would actually.”

“Perfect. Well, while you were in here doing nothing productive to anyone, I completed another part of Crane’s order. I think I’ll go this time then. I wonder if it’ll be so easy for him to charm his way into my heart, too?”

“Eddie, that’s…”

“That’s what? Entirely accurate? I feel like you might be a bit misguided here, in whatever you think your relationship with this goon is. You’re being manipulated. I can’t trust you not to fall idiotic head over clumsy heels for this enemy, and provide him with all of my secrets.”

“What? He can’t just enjoy my company? You think the only reason anyone would be nice to me is because they want something from me?”

“Why do you think you’re here?”

You clenched your jaw, teeth clamped together as you tried to avoid saying anything in return, choosing not to rise to his taunts. Instead, you reached for the messenger bag, which he quickly pulled back out of your reach.

“Uh, uh, uh. You can call your little friend and tell him you won’t be seeing him this evening.”

“Oh, like I’m grounded or something?”

Leaving him in his silence, crueller than any words he might have spat at you, you pushed past him, storming out and onto the dark streets of the city. It was dangerous, and stupid, but you were beyond caring. You just kept walking, and walking. Before you really thought of where you were going, you noticed you were at the park where you met Mark the first time, and you sat down on the bench to gather your thoughts before you headed back to the sewers, certain that Eddie would be gone by then.

“Ah, miserable as usual.”

At first, you thought you had imagined his voice, so desperate for something sweet in this sour moment, but it was definitely Mark, right there beside you, taking a seat on the bench.

“I thought it was Nigma himself who was meeting me.”

“It is… I… I didn’t know this was where he was meeting you, sorry. I just had to get out…”

“I see… y’know, I can only lighten your mood so much. I set you up, he knocks you down, huh?”

“I don’t know if you’re joking or not, but that’s really what it feels like.”

Mark sighed, resting his arms on the bench behind you.

“We’re not meeting here, we’re meeting in the alley just up there. I saw you though, alone. In the dark. I don’t know how tough you think you are babe, but not a good idea.”

Leaning back, you rested your head against his arm, letting out a soft groan.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I think it would bore you to death.”

“Try me.”

“It’s just very hard. To be around him. And to deal with how I feel… about… things. I knew he would be difficult, I did. I didn’t go into this blindly, assuming that it would all work out wonderfully. But I just didn’t think I’d feel like this.”

“And how do you feel?”

You looked into the sky, no visible stars beyond the smog and the clouds. A dark, grey abyss that felt like the ceiling of a prison cell as you stared up at it.

“I’m just… tired. I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know.”

Looking to the side, you could see Mark’s face, his warm smile, lighting up his face and his eyes as he tried to silently comfort you, concern behind it, a genuine desire to see you happy. You turned away, but you leaned to the side, into him, resting your head on his shoulder when he brought his arm to yours. It was innocent enough. A friend comforting a friend. But it felt wrong, like a betrayal almost. Of who, you weren’t sure. But Eddie knew. And as he watched you both on the bench from the other side of the street, he clutched at the strap of the messenger bag, infuriated and confused.

#finnie writes #arkham riddler #arkham edward nigma #riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #riddler #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x you #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma #arkham!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #arkham!verse #finnie yotn

[theguyinthemathexamples]

CW: theories(possibly incorrect since they're mostly hearsays), vague story/lore spoilers, possible sagau potential, vitamin d deficiency, prolonged sun exposure (can those two even count as warnings), mentioning of fatal injuries due to being out in the "sun" for too long, your average clingy ahh acolytes, sagau cult au being sagau cult au, a few cusswords, and cake overall being a dumbass at explaining things and being shit at english

This isn't organized in any way possible, be warned.

So, archons, right? Gods and goddesses and deities, and primordial gods, and whatnot

So, hear me out nice and good and cool,

Sun and Moon primordial gods✨

Like, think about it for a second,

The sun god is capable of controlling a cooler and more powerful version of pyro, and the moon god is capable of controlling geo and having a stronger grip on hydro than the hydro archon herself, bc yk, gravitational pull and all

Their "god names" would be Hemera/Apollo for the sun god and Alignak/Nyx for the moon god,

But if we wanna go with genshin's tradition of naming gods from the book "The Lesser Key of Solomon", more specifically the book "Ars Goetia", moon god is/would be Bathin (or Bathym, Mathim, Marthim), or Vepar (also Separ, Vephar), and the sun god being either Gaap (also Goap, Tap), Orobas, Orias (also spelled Oriax), or Furcas

The sun god would rule over the surface world aka Teyvat, and the moon god would rule over the Abyss/where the "real" (night) sky is

⟩⟩⟩=⟨⟨⟨

Now, you know how most sagau fics would include the acolytes being clingy and all? Yk, like the classical koala-on-tree type? Well guess what, that shit's bad now.

Multiple, if not all, sagau fics mention the Creator™ has this sorta "warm aura" to them, and wanna know the reason behind that?

That's right, sun/solar radiation.

And yes, this would mean that sun god would not only have to actively avoid their acolytes, but would also need to be actively near them at the same time

And what about the moon god you may ask?

While, yes, they might emit a small amount of radiation due to reflecting the ones that radiate from the sun god, that radiation would vary alot depending how long/close moon god spends with them,

So basically, if moon god spends alot of time hanging out and having skin to skin contact/just overall being close but not touching sun god=increases the chances of them (moon god) emitting the same radioactive levels as the first 10 days after the Chernobyl disaster.

The overall symptoms of sun poisoning are skin redness and blistering, pain and tingling on the skin, swelling of the skin, headache, fever and chills, nausea, dizziness, dehydration, vomiting, and an increased chance in getting, yes, you guessed it, skin cancer.

And due to them (sun god, and by extension, the moon god too) being a primordial god that's possibly and probably older than Celestia itself, or even the Primordial One(which is probably them tbh), archons can and will still be able to experience these symptoms including other nonhuman/supernatural hybrids/creatures like the Adepti and Aranara(don't ask), but albeit more tame and more time has to be spent with the sun and/or moon god to actually feel and experience said symptoms of sun poisoning

Oh, and when i meant that they have to atleast spend some time being with their acolytes, what i mean is, is that because the moon god has to more or less spend some time not being with sun god, moon god can't radiate/reflect vitamin D, bc yk, moon = rock, the lack of vitamin D would more or less come into fruition, with serious shit happening like vitamin D deficiency

And vitamin D deficiency causes brain fog, forgetfulness, and chronic stress, fatigue, bone pain, muscle weakness, muscle aches or muscle cramps, mood changes, hair loss, and an increased chance of getting depression.

With symptoms like these, you'd wonder how Teyvat is even alive, right?

Well that's bc the physical sun and moon still exist, just that the living personifications of them are now walking and roaming Teyvat atleast 25/8.

Cake's Notes: And that concludes my take on this particular and interesting au that's been on my mind for the past week :DD

More will be added later, with the addition being going into an in-depth look/explanation at their powers, abilities, and weapons, and maybe even including stats if i'm motivated enough :)))

#cherry waterfalls * #scaled vanilla extracts ° #silver lined strawberries ♪ #stellar-borne cookies and cream ♪ #genshin impact #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #genshin impact sagau #genshin au #i posted this early oml #someone kill me now #embarrassing smh #woof woof bark bark

[sucktacular]

Cw health scare, passing out, food mention, weed + being high, mention of blood work/needles

Had a yucky time last night that was very scary and wanna vent about it

and honestly kinda hope maybe someone that has low blood sugar moments or panic attacks or whatever the fuck could give me some insight if you're comfy doing so!!

Other wise just ignore this post :3 I'm okay now! But obv will get it looked at, prommy.

Also cw disordered eating... I don't mean to do it for any particular reasons I'm just very bad at remembering to eat, eating enough, and having too low energy to make anything lately. I got fresh groceries yesterday night tho so I'll be back to eating right for a bit.

So I uh nearly passed out at 3am alone in my kitchen trying to make a sandwich and I'm kinda pissed that my body is shitting out on me and now I gotta go to the human mechanic and get my stuff looked over cuz uh... Not normal happenings

I got up after laying down in bed for a while trying to sleep but got hungry and I was a little zooted too to be fair. Collected myself. Got all dressed to leave my room and was totally fine. If it was from standing up too fast it should have definitely hit me by that point but I was fine.

Went down and took all the things out of the fridge I needed for a sandwich. Slow and meticulous , not too fast cuz I was stoned and like to take my time to be quiet. Opened the bread, got a plate, opened the mayo, mayo'd my bread, then I went to open the deli chicken and started greying out and getting really light headed and weak and shakey and cold. So I waited a moment and it kept getting worse so I sat down and propped myself in the corner of my cabinets to try and help. Drank my chocolate milk and tried to wait it out. I've had low blood sugar act like that before- cold, shakey, grey vision, weak, etc - cuz I've kind of always been really bad at making sure I eat meals and last night i had just been eating chips, crackers, and chocolate pretzels all night. Snjcjsbjdks. I've been snackless for a few days so I NEEDED snack overload.

Anyway it kept getting worse over the minute or two to the point my vision was like white and black tv static with tunnel vision. my head felt super pressurized and I couldn't hear? I've had tinnitus since I was a tiny child but it really felt like those movies when everything is muffled and all you can hear is a very tiny faint high pitch ring. I could barely hear my tinnitus which was ... Deafeningly silent and that's WEIRD. I've never heard... Nothing? So that was scary. My whole body felt sweaty and hot and I just didn't know really what to do.

I think it was low blood sugar but + weed made me have a panic attack? Maybe? Or really bad low blood sugar. Because I HAVE been having light headed episodes and feeling weak lately... Which I chocked up to vitamin deficiencies (B12, D, or iron are problems of the past so I started taking those every day for the past week or so.)

Kind of super mad doctor I saw last week insisted I don't need blood work and to just take my new meds, cuz there's definitely something going on here and while blood work probably wouldn't have stopped last night's episode from happening, at the very least I could be a step closer today than i am. :(

Uhm... Yeah anyway it was really scary and I was on the floor in the kitchen with just Frankie watching me for a hot maybe 2-5minutes... Hard to tell how long. Not a super long time but more than just like 1-2 minutes. Felt better. Tried to get up and finish sandwich making. Got grey and weak again. Sat down some more. EVENTUALLY my vision and hearing went back to normal. Finished my sandwich weakly and packed the stuff away sloppily and had to turn the hallway light on cuz I couldn't see in the dark at all. Went to my bed and ate my sandwich and still felt fucked but eventually went right back to normal.

I do still feel airy headed and not totally alert but that's been kinda how it's been this past few weeks.

So uh... Mmm. Don't like that at all. Phone on me all the time now. Doctor visit again soon for this issue specifically. Partner suggested it sounded like a panic attack or when they get a vasovagal response to needles and nearly pass out. I definitely got scared and panicked cuz it was awful and scary and felt like I was dying. I did some 5seconds in 5 seconds out breathing exercises and it helped quite a bit to calm and focus me in the moment. Which was neat! They ain't lying about those exercises even if you don't know what you're doing. Focus on the counting and the breathing in and out softly.

Uhm.... So yeah if anyone actually genuinely has a comment or experience with that I'd love to hear. Otherwise I'm okay so far today and keeping an eye on it...

Problem also is I don't... Well, I have agoraphobia basically and it's very hard for me to go to a doctor without help from a friend or my partner and I can't figure out any online telehealth things in Ontario that don't cost money or aren't just for prescription renewals so uh not sure what to really do. I know I need to get it looked into but my GOD you know how fear will make you not care for yourself? Gestures. I'm trying so hard not to jump to the conclusion that it might be pre diabetes because my family has no history thankfully but the signs arent looking good..

#sucktacular sucks #me: im gonna be so safe about my info online. no tracking me!!! #me also so heres all the health conditions im struggling with yall lol #mostly a vent but also like dont be shy if u do have a thought about it #cuz it helps me look into it until i can get to a doctor to talk about it. I WILL. but it might be moment

[lexifer-666]

Vent post down below. CW: medical talk, mental health, physical health. No mentions of depression or the like, just ADHD and stress. Also talk of going through diagnostic processes. Plenty of profanity used. Also talk of physical disability getting worse

JEUSUS FUCKIGN CHEIST i hate the fucking medical field. Im so fucking stressed out. For months i had doctors telling me i FOR SURE DEFINITELY HAVE muscular dystrophy. They send me to an MDA doc. He takes one look at me, not my medical history, and decides i dont have it. He tests me for sjogren's, which i brought the NEGATIVE tests for to his office. He made copies of it fucks sake. I still dont know the results. He tests my b12 too. Which i know is normal. All the things tested in febuary:

Ana abnormal. 1:180

B12: normal.

Sjogren's antibodies: both negative.

Anti jo. Negative.

Entire ENA panel. NEGATIVE

vitamin d. Deficient. Been taking the pills.

Tsh. Normal. Tfree. Normal. Been taking the pills

He doesnt see anything progressive even though i literally told him in office that ive been getting worse. That i have to drive to class now because I cannot walk that far anymore. He's testing me for a lot but was also really dismissive. Multiple doctors have observed muscle weakness and atrophy in me, but somehow he doesnt see it. I cant even lift a gallon jug of milk. I have to buy my milk in half gallons. Just sitting up straight is hell for my muscles. But no... my muscles are fine...???

Bullshit man. Idk. Im tired of other docs sending me to neurology, neurology looking at me and going "well your eyes work fine so this isnt my problem" despite the fact they ignore my light sensitivity. Idk im so fucking tired and i want an answer but no one seems to have one. Im losing my ability to fucking walk and every fucking doctor acts like thats normal. I used to run!! Bike!!! Climb!!! And I WANT TO. SO BAD. I MISS IT. but i cant anymore. I fall. Or i get so exhausted i cant function for days after. Im tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of losing my mobility while doctors just watch. Im 24. I shouldnt be dealing with this. I havent gone on a good hike since i was 14. I havent been able to work anything other than a desk job since i was 16. I try to exercise and walk as much as i can, but i also have a life to fucking live and i cant spend all my time in bed.

Also, my adhd has been kicking my ass so bad. My apartment is a mess and it makes everything so hard, but i cannot pull myself out of this rut im in. I also cant ask for help because im so terrified of being judged for it. I know there's dishes. I know I need to sweep. I know there's clutter everywhere. Im doing good to keep trash thrown away. But im literally just barely taking care of myself as is and making it to classes. I know it's disgusting and i hate it also, but i can barely do anything about it and i want to just throw everything away. All the dishes, the rug. Fucking everything and just hole up in my room with paper plates. I cant do that though. Thats. Not good. Idk what to do.

#cripplepunk #cpunk #yeah i mention adhd in here but genuinely most of it is physical illness. #whatever the fuck i have. #he also said i should stick to the cane despite the fact that its been 8 years and the cane isnt working anymore #im sorry i think using crutches and moving is better than fucking. #using a cane and driving

[disabledunitypunk]

Mod Stars here.

Hey, I know I don't usually do this, but I wanted to provide a life update, including current health status, on this blog. I'm hoping it'll remind those that have been unkind recently that we are people, and also let the many very kind and supportive people who have followed or even interacted in passing with this blog know why activity is sporadic.

CW for details about bodily functions, some of which may be gross or may trigger emeto/copro/uro-phobia, as well as mentions of medical neglect, parental abuse, and disordered eating, very brief mentions of sexual trauma and suicidal ideation (not mine)

So, first of all, currently I am watching my grandmother with dementia overnight four nights a week. I already generally have a pretty fucked sleep schedule, so I was basically the most "convenient" family member to do so. I'm glad to be able to help, but also beyond exhausted, even just on a purely physical level. Emotionally, I'm not that affected for complicated reasons (low empathy is a factor, but also specifically my relationship with my family because of my mom's abuse and their support of her). Having to be fully present and aware of myself and my surroundings for almost 50 hours a week though is taking all my energy and then some.

Because of this and medical trauma from continued medical neglect, I have been struggling to actually address my health. I mean to switch doctors again, after my doctor literally (flippantly, not sympathetically) told me "western medicine isn't really any good at helping with chronic conditions" and keeps dismissing any condition as a possibility if my symptoms would fall under even mildly atypical presentation. For example - she dismissed the possibility of pancreatitis because I'm not vomiting and "don't have severe pain" - except I do have severe, debilitating pain in exactly the area typical of pancreatitis. I just don't show it because I live my life constantly at a middling to high level of pain.

(It may not be pancreatitis! That's okay! But a refusal to do so much as an entirely risk free simple blood test or stool sample is unacceptable.)

I also have not been able to address my vitamin D and B12 deficiencies and they have fallen to severely critical levels again, along with my folate. My ferritin levels, on the other hand, are high. I've also lost nearly 35 pounds in the past eight weeks, which my doctor is convinced is due to "dietary and exercise changes". The only problem is, other than finding and cutting out one of my big allergy triggers, I haven't significantly changed my diet in well over a year!

I also am continuing to get stonewalled by incompetent and/or lazy allergists on receiving a mast cell disorder diagnosis (most likely MCAS) and getting treatment for it, as my list of safe foods gets smaller and smaller. I recently tried quercetin and DAO enzyme, which initially helped but now doesn't seem to be anymore (and I'm concerned one of the inactive ingredients in the supplements may in fact be a trigger itself). It's a very simple series of noninvasive tests and at this point I've been to both of the practices within hundreds of miles of me that take my insurance. I don't know how else to get them to listen to me. About once every two months, I end up in the ER needing prednisone, but can't even follow up with an oral course because I react to most common binding ingredients and insurance won't cover a compounding pharmacy without a mast cell disorder diagnosis. I'm hoping next time they'll be willing to prescribe intramuscular route, but I doubt it.

I have been having abdominal/back pain in conjunction with like, hazard-vest-orange diarrhea with fat or mucus discharge. My last ultrasounds not quite a year ago were clear, but idk how because they could barely get the images because the light pressure from the wand was so intensely painful.

My POTS is currently untreated as well due to lack of access to meds that I don't react to, so my tachycardia and dysautonomia are running rampant. I can no longer go further than my mailbox down the hall without a wheelchair most days.

My chronic pain (likely fibromyalgia, but also very possibly a connective tissue disorder - no hypermobility however) gets triggered whenever any other conditions flare-up. The lowest I am on the helpful pain scale charts like the one below is a 6. Average is 7-8, with frequent spikes to 9-10. I don't go to the emergency room at a 10 because they literally can't do anything for me, and sometimes make it worse. Last time I went in for anaphylaxis, for example, the folic acid in the fluids they gave me caused an obvious visible allergic reaction, which went down when they stopped the fluids and resumed when they restarted them. They just shrugged and let the fluids run their course.

[Image ID: A pain scale chart that reads as follows - 0-10 SCALE OF PAIN SEVERITY. Severity - 10 Unable to Move - I am in bed and can't move due to my pain. I need someone to take me to the emergency room to get help for my pain. 9 - Severe - My pain is all that I can think about. I can barely talk or move because of the pain. 8 - Intense - My pain is so severe that it is hard to think of anything else. Talking and listening are difficult. 7 - Unmanageable - I am in pain all the time. It keeps me from doing most activities. 6 - Distressing - I think about my pain all of the time. I give up many activities because of my pain. 5 - Distracting - I think about my pain most of the time. I cannot do some of the activities I need to do each day because of the pain. 4 - Moderate - I am constantly aware of my pain but I can continue most activities. 3 - Uncomfortable - My pain bothers me but I can ignore it most of the time. 2 - Mild - I have a low level of pain. I am aware of my pain only when I pay attention to it. 1 - Minimal - My pain is hardly noticeable. 0 - No Pain - I have no pain. /end ID]

I'm sorry if the ID is not great, btw. The only way I can do image IDs is by using google lens to copy the text and then formatting it. If anyone wants to do a better ID, we'll happily reblog it.

I will say, this isn't something new, but I also often just can't eat anymore, because I'm just too reactive and I feel worse when I eat than when I don't. I'm struggling with disordered eating urges that started back when my mom was forcing me onto fad diets, though I've mostly managed to combat them with strict rules about when I'm allowed to not eat (I have to be severely flaring and cannot fast for more than two days at a time - which, tbf, is actually effective at bringing the flare down because it allows my degranulating mast cells to be replaced.

My sleep apnea is worsened significantly every time I'm flaring and causing sleep deprivation, and I'm also struggling to keep up with both cleaning and ordering replacement parts when they are due. I also had just started actually sleeping at night thanks to a sun lamp and feeling so much better, and feel worse again now being awake nights. I also am dealing with throat irritation and severe sinus inflammation/rhinitis whenever I flare, as well as hives/eczema. The skin stuff at least is annoying at worst, but still.

I also am not certain this is related, but it seems it may be: I have frequent urinary urges, whether I have to go a little or a lot, that I can't sleep through. I used to rely on adult diapers but can't currently afford them, so I have a makeshift "chamber pot" that my partner sets up for me next to our bed every night to minimize the sleep loss from this. It's unclear if it's urinary cystitis or just a side effect of MCAS, but if it's the former, I cannot currently do the recommended physical therapy for it due to sexual trauma

That's I think a fair bit of the physical stuff, though I'm sure I'm forgetting some. I spend all the time not watching my grandma sleeping or sick in bed. I often am sick while watching her too, but since it's mostly just being there to make sure she doesn't leave the house, I'm able to just lay there on the couch or the cot they have and be sick with my duties that involve interacting with her specifically limited to necessities at the request of my grandpa.

Then of course there's the mental health stuff. I'm struggling with some depression surrounding food, but actually, my anxiety and depression are at the best they've ever been. I am however struggling a lot with processing said sexual trauma (I basically haven't been able to, especially over telehealth). For reference, it's of the type that happened at a certain age (that this site will delete blogs for talking about).

Trauma from medical abuse and neglect, besides making me struggle to actually pursue care, is also causing difficulties.

As is trauma from past abuse as well as my father's extreme dismissiveness and outright bigotry regarding both my disabilities and queerness (such lovely things as "well, if you want to rely on the government for money, it's a bit extreme to want to force them to let you get married" and "I don't see how disabled people having added vulnerability to financial abuse is any different than anyone else" and "the government will never actually restrict adults' right to transition other than by dropping insurance coverage for it, just pay for it yourself, the bill that would make it illegal for providers to prescribe HRT is as ludicrous and unlikely to pass as the bill introduced to bomb Mexico". For reference, he is a first generation Mexican immigrant, so that's not also a racist white guy statement).

My parents are also anti-vaxx yet somehow not covid deniers??? But they've bought into a lot of bullshit "medicine" that they keep trying to convince me to try. I use my MCAS as an almost convenient excuse as to why I can't take any of their bullshit "remedies".

I have to keep reminding myself to not let myself care for them and that I excised all feelings for them for a reason, for my own emotional safety.

Poverty as well is causing it's own trauma, which I won't get into, other than to say that food insecurity is terrible and our landlords are fucking evil slumlords.

And of course there's online trauma from past experiences with dogpiling and harassment which has been triggered recently. I am incredibly grateful to Mod Cloud for fielding the recent situation for us.

As for other mental health diagnoses: the cluster B diagnoses I'm actually managing fairly well right now. The DID I am struggling a LOT with. Communication is at an all time low since realizing our plurality and amnesia and dissociation are pretty close to an all-time high. Some of the dissociation is lower during our shifts with my grandma - I'm more present in the body and more aware of it and our surroundings - but dissociation between headmates is bad, and I am much MORE dissociated on my days off now.

OCD is doing okay. I struggle a bit with guilt over the feelings I have about my grandparents, but quite honestly I feel less bad about feeling that I wish they would pass sooner rather than later when I know it would be a mercy and a kindness to both of them at this point.

ADHD is awful. My executive dysfunction is utterly unmanageable without meds, which I both react to and which worsen my tachycardia, even when on a beta blocker but especially when not. I am more functionally disabled by this than quite literally any other of my disabilities, except perhaps my negative schizophrenia symptoms. I'm managing my psychosis well for that, btw, and the psychosis has always been the easiest part anyway.

My brain fog is awful, my cognitive functioning feels like it's at zero most of the time, and I literally can't even address most of this because the physical symptoms are so much more demanding and immediate, if that makes any sense. But I can't address the physical symptoms primarily due to trauma and executive dysfunction, so it's a vicious cycle. I need a carer myself, and can't get one right now.

I also am extremely scared that something will happen to me - not so much for my sake, because while I desperately WANT to live, I am not afraid of death - but for my partner's. We need to make an updated safety plan for her because she and I are both worried about if she could even survive if I died. Both on a physical level if she doesn't have SSI yet, because she at this point CAN'T work, and on an emotional one, because we know she'd be very suicidal at that point. But also, even if she'd be okay, having to live up to 50 years without your person, with all the color taken out of life... the thought is utterly horrifying to me, as someone who is stable enough to probably survive it. I don't want her to have to go through that.

So I'm pushing myself through the triggers and outsourcing my executive functioning as much as possible to make sure I can stay here for her.

I am incredibly exhausted. I haven't even talked about how any other headmates feel because I have so little communication right now - in part because many headmates are unable to even come near front if the body is in a significant amount of pain or otherwise sick.

Just typing this right now, my lungs are on fire and I have a rattling cough (non-pathogenic, this is a common allergy/asthma symptom), my skin is hypersensitive and hurts to touch, my entire body from my head to my toes is at what for me is a low level of background burning pain, my back and abdomen hurt especially, I can't maintain my temperature at all, I can't sleep despite this being around when I'd normally sleep since my schedule got thrown off, my bladder is lightly aching, and I haven't eaten because I'm not feeling well enough to make anything and my partner is sleeping and I also can't handle any GI triggers at ALL right now. I'm also itchy, my sinuses are moderately inflamed, and I have neck edema.

Oh, and our water is coming out of our tap brown due to a temporary shut off that either hasn't been flushed or has not yet actually been turned back on, that none of the affected residential buildings in the area were informed of beforehand. I'm badly dehydrated and have no access to water.

At this point, this is just our life right now. There's not much that can be done. I'm not going to say no to helping with my grandparents - both because actually very much still care about them and because, selfishly, it sets me up to possibly eventually be able to move into their house and potentially stay there permanently. That would give us a level of stability that would do wonders for our general health and quality of life.

It's not all bad - my dad will be providing a car for me to facilitate my night shifts, that I'll be able to use outside of that context (I mean, I'll have to be judicious, since I struggle badly with ADHD and dissociation affecting my ability to drive, but I've been talking with my therapist to find effective coping mechanisms and don't really intend to use it beyond short grocery and doctor trips. I will also set aside what money I can to Uber instead if I really can't drive safely. Public transportation is not an option in my area for this.)

Also, since getting the POTS diagnosis, I've been so much calmer, because I no longer associate the tachycardia and dysautonomia with "anxiety". When my heart is racing or I'm suddenly flushed and overheated and short of breath, etc, I'm just like "ope POTS lol". Sometimes I wonder if I ever had anxiety or was just gaslit into thinking I did - at least since getting out of high school, since the diagnosis probably did actually apply then. (Though, tbf, high school -_-).

Anyway, I don't fully even understand why I want to say all this, other than to show you what I'm struggling with and remind you that I'm a real disabled system behind the blog profile pic, as is Mod Cloud. I hope that even if you disagree with me or Mod Cloud on subjects of ableism, you can treat us with basic decency and respect (in the sense of treating us as people, not as an authority).

I'll take this time to once again state we are all strongly anti-harassment, as well. I'm not just referring to some of the ableist harassment recently sent to our ask box, but also to remind any followers or supporters of ours that harassing even people who are extremely cruel or bigoted to us, let alone who just disagrees with us, is unacceptable behavior. It will merit a block to anyone we find doing so, and we strongly encourage any affected blogs to report it as well (Tumblr, fucking let us report harassment when not the affected party like every other site on the internet. Twitter is literally better than you in that regard, come the fuck on.)

Also, if you disagree with us and are harassing others who agree with you to make us look bad, really? You're not even just not a good person, you're an ableist bully who was looking for any excuse to harass multiple disabled people on opposite sides of an argument. An ask sent about harassment they wrongfully assumed we condoned or had anything to do with literally said "this is the opposite of unity" and they were right on that count, at least. Go suck fed dick somewhere else.

Anyway, we don't necessarily need advice or even for anyone to express sympathy, right now. We just needed to get off our chest all that we're dealing with, like we said, in part to remind people that we are people and in part to let people know why we are only sporadically active.

Thank you for your patience, and no matter what your feelings on discourse, for those who have been good to us. Even if you disagreed so strongly with us that you had to immediately block us and rant on your blogs about us, you did us the kindness of walking away and not lashing out at us, and we really do appreciate it.

And to all those that see this: May your good days be many and your bad days be mild.

#unitypunk #mod stars #ableism #possible emetophobia + coprophobia + urophobia triggers #brief mentions of SA and abuse and medical neglect and suicidal ideation #mentions of parental abuse and disordered eating #cluster B #ADHD #DID #anxiety #depression #OCD #schizophrenia #POTS #MCAS #chronic pain #dementia #chronic illness #disability

[doomhole]

cw: personal, medical

So a while ago, I started having what is commonly known as "formication", the hallucinatory sensation of having something on your skin, in my case specifically around my mouth. And yeah, I'm a mentally ill trainwreck, but I know my own hallucinatory symptoms, you know? I'm not a skin picker nor have I ever had tactile hallucinations, so this stood out.

Consulting the well-known Doctor Google gave me, besides the usual options (anxiety, panic attack, psychosis), the possibility of a parathyroid dysfunction. Which is something people take supplements for, specifically calcium, vitamin D and magnesium.

So... seeing as that's pretty much harmless to try even if it wouldn't help, I gave it a shot.

Literally three days later, formication gone. Whoo! Parathyroid problem or placebo effect? Who knows, I didn't care, my face stopped feeling weird!

That was like, over a month ago. Now last week, I ran out of those supplements, and being my adhd self, I totally forgot to order new ones, having already mostly forgotten why I took them to begin with.

Guess what it bugging me today.

Yep, it's my old friend, formication around my mouth.

...

I am wondering if I should see an actual doctor about this. Given that this may actually be a real physical issue and not just me being busted in the head as usual.

However, the temptation to just take the supplements again and be done with it is very real. Why would I even have a parathyroid issue? I haven't had neck surgery nor do I have autoimmune disease or a family history of hypoparathyroidism, so my only possible avenues are chronic magnesium deficiency from malnutrition or an undiagnosed endocrine issue. AKA chances are the doctor will just send me home with an eyeroll and a script for antipsychotics.

Even though this could possibly be linked to my hair loss, shit skin and nails, digestive issues, and the inexplicable severe hypertension I already take 3 prescription drugs for.

Anyway, I ordered new pills.

#hypoparathyroidism #parathyroid #formication #tactile hallucinations #mental health #supplements #vitamins #self-treating your non-psychiatric medical complaints because doctors don't take people with mental illness seriously #I could have malnutrition I suppose #I have shit eating habits and also IBS

[bookofjudith]

k but like fr if u start getting horribly sad every year around the time the days get shorter and the sun gets colder I’m begging you to get some multivitamins and a SAD light I promise you don’t actually want to die you just have a vitamin d deficiency

#I’m not joking my suicidal ideation has almost disappeared since I started taking vit d regularly and using a sad light #suicide mention cw #seasonal affective depression #I am not making light of depression either y’all KNOW I got major depressive disorder it’s just that your body and brain are linked #and we don’t understand it so well #other than knowing that shit like making sure you’re not vitamin deficient has a much bigger effect #on mental health than a lot of people understand

[princess-stabbity]

it’s fun thinking abt when doctors were forcing me to lose weight as quickly as possible and i mentioned to them my concerns abt how weak and dizzy and sick i felt all the time, how they just told me to suck it up, rather than consider that maybe those were symptoms of smth :) 

#disordered eating cw #just in case #i was trying to eat as many vegetables as possible while also essentially limiting myself to child's portions #and not taking any vitamins besides a prescribed d that i could barely remember bc it was. like. weekly #(for some reason it's harder for me to remember weekly shit than daily shit) #and also b12 deficiency can induce memory problems. 'brain fog' etc #honestly one of those guys was so bad i think i could have passed out in front of him #and when i came to he'd probably have demanded to know if i was drunk or smth #like i'm grateful he noticed a problem that wasn't even in his purview but his interpersonal skills were smth else #like i started to wear makeup and floral dresses to appointments #bc when i rolled in in flannel he seemed to think i was like. a rebellious teen or smth #this man was like 35 ftr #you'd think i was describing a fucking septuagenarian

[solarianwitch]

.

#So uh #don't cut out dairy completely from your diet if you're vitamin D deficient #Because uh #you will be exhausted #and your blood will clot slower #I cut my leg by accident and it bled for two days #so don't be an idiot #like myself #tis I #boo boo the fool #finishing a bowl of greek yogurt right now and feeling much more energized #tw #blood #cw #injury #not witchy #not witchcraft #my posts

[raindrop-cake]

I made it to my appointment today, got my ecg done (it was normal, but I expected that, it was just a precaution) and a bunch of blood taken. here's hoping some reason for pain beyond vitamin d deficiency shows up!

#aster talks #medical stuff cw //// #of course i'm vitamin d deficient; i live in England and i leave the house like once a week #supplements have helped take my pain down like... 10% in the past #which is good! but it's not the only cause of the pain clearly

[ashintheairlikesnow]

We Keep Going, That’s All

@whimpers-and-whumpers , this is for you. Hope your surgery goes well today!

CW: Aftermath of near-death, hospital whump, recovery whump, survivor's guilt, alcohol use, referenced drug use

Ryan shows up to the hospital with Coke bottles full of liquid that absolutely is not Coke - or not much of it, anyway - and Nate doesn't refuse the gift.

He twists off the plastic cap and takes a drink, wincing at the burn down his throat. "Jesus, Ryan, this is m-m-more Jack than Coke."

"Yeah, well. Figured we could use some relaxing." Ryan gives him a slight smile, and the bruising that's been along his jaw - the obvious press of fingers - is finally starting to fade. Off-white bandages ring his neck, hiding from direct view the deep, slowly healing gashes rubbed in by the iron collar he'd worn for a year.

There are other wounds, Nate knows, underneath the lightly-draped black t-shirt Ryan wears, under his effortlessly casual, perfectly-on-trend jeans.

There are deeper wounds still entirely underneath his skin, inside his head. Nate knows those even better. He doesn't begrudge Ryan the need to find some way to fuzz out the edges of what must be written in stark, bright blood in his memory.

Nate spent a year and a half doing the same, after all, before Bram came back for Danny again.

"How is he?" Ryan asks, settling into a hard wooden chair with plastic back and cushion in a dull pastel mauve. "Any different?”

"Then y-yesterday?" Nate exhales, slowly, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. The stubble prickles his fingertips, itches a little as it grows in. There's a razor in the private room's little bathroom, but he doesn't have the energy to use it. All of Nate's energy now is focused entirely around staying right here, being right here, for the rare moments that Danny is both awake and himself.

"Yesterday wasn't... great.”

"No, it wasn't." Nate sighs, leaning over in the chair he sits in, next to Ryan, reaching out with his good left hand to gently nudge a bit of wavy red away from over Danny's face.

The love of his life - the man he's killed for, twice, and would kill for again - lays on his stomach with his head turned to one side. The hospital blanket is pulled up nearly to his chin, hiding from view the fact that nearly all of Danny seems made of bandages these days, bandages and tubes and wires. He breathes slowly, a drugged deep sleep to let his body rest and try desperately to heal itself around the nearly-fatal place the knife went into his back.

He sleeps, more than he's awake. But Nate makes sure that when his eyes open, someone is here for him, every single time.

"Today has been a little b-better, I think," Nate says after a moment's though. He brushes a crumb from the corner of Danny's mouth. "He ate a l-little, this morning. Just Jell-O and a little bit of cereal, but...”

"But something." Ryan nods, takes another drink, looks out the window. Outside, the day is bright and sunny, with a cloudless blue sky. The courtyard below is full of visiting families and patients taking walks through the landscaped flowers, all of them in brilliant bloom. "Have you even left this room since we got here?”

"No." Nate doesn't bother to lie.

Ryan looks over at him, and smiles very slightly. "Remind me to bring you by some multivitamins do you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency.”

"I'm f-fine." Nate takes another drink, feels the warmth slowly spreading through his shoulders, relaxing the knots and tension that have been slowly building day by day. The 'bed' he has here is just a visitor's couch built into the wall, lumpy and hard, with exactly one flat pillow with a scratchy pillowcase. But he'd rather be here than anywhere else. He'll be here for every single second Danny needs him. "I eat oranges for breakfast every d-d-day. No sc-... sc-... scurvy for me.”

"Didn't we joke about scurvy once?" Ryan asks, slightly faintly, looking up at the ceiling. "After Danny came home the first time?”

"M-Maybe. Don't remember. Why do you c-care if I feel good, anyway?”

“My brother can’t fuss over you right now,” Ryan says with a casual shrug. “So someone has to. He’ll never let me live it down if anything happened to you while he’s here. I’ll get chewed out if you get so much as a headcold and we both know it.”

“I d-doubt-”

Danny shifts a little and both men go silent, watching him move in the bed - just an inch or so to the right, his eyes tightly closed, body tensing as even the slightest movement brings a wash of pain.

"It's okay," Nate whispers, and Danny's eyelids flicker, slowly open. The blue in them is hazy and clouded, but not empty. This time, at least, it's Danny who is looking at him, and not the other one, the one that Nate knows only as someone else. The one who runs Danny's body when Danny can't do it any longer.

"Hey," Danny says, in a hoarse whisper. He tries for a smile, and it's faded and wobbly, but it's there. Then he lifts his head a little, looking over to see Ryan. "Oh, you're both... here. How long was I asleep?”

"Four hours or s-s-so," Nate says, standing up - ignoring the twinge of pain in his bad knee - and moving the pillow under Danny's head to still support him even as he moves. A hint of freckled shoulder shows, with its swirling trace of scars from Bram's knife. There's a star carved into the back of his left shoulder that Nate did, at Bram's command, once.

Ryan's gaze be damned, Nate leans over to kiss it, and to kiss one by one the carved letters that are still there, faded, in the back of Danny's neck. A. D. N.

He tries not to feel the guilt that twists in him at the ownership Bram had meant to make obvious, there. His own first initial with Bram's initials, his own... his own culpability.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks, leaning over close to Danny. 

Danny’s nose wrinkles. “You smell like a liquor store.”

“Yeah, well. When your big brother scares the shit out of you by getting himself stabbed almost to death because of you, maybe you need a little pick-me-up now and then.” Ryan manages a half-cocked smile, but it’s fragile, and they both know it.

With a hiss of pain, Danny moves his hand up the bed, offering it to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation, leaning over so his forehead rests gently against Danny’s. 

“I’m okay,” Danny whispers.

“No, you’re not,” Ryan whispers back. 

Nate moves to sit back in his chair, then stands again, restless. He doesn’t want to sit there but he doesn’t know where he does want to be... until he looks at Danny, thin and dwarfed even by a small hospital bed. He sets down the mostly-jack-and-a-little-coke and climbs into the bed without hesitating, laying down behind Danny on his side, letting his good hand rest just next to a swirl of Danny’s hair on the pillow. 

Danny’s smile widens - not that Nate can see that, from his vantage point. Although Ryan can. “I’ll be okay,” He corrects himself, watching his brother. “They said there’s no sign of paralysis. I’ll walk, I’ll probably even run after a while.” He tries moving and hisses again. “A long while. It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”

“You always were way more optimistic when you were high as balls,” Ryan whispers, and he and Danny laugh, until the action makes Danny whimper at a new spike of pain. “What do we do now, Dan, huh?”

“Keep going,” Danny says, voice low, barely audible even to the two men on either side of him. “That’s all. We keep going.”

“I keep thinking I should’ve died back there, ten times over,” Ryan murmurs. “But every single time, you took the pain for me. I should’ve died-”

“Nah. You’re my little brother. I need you here.” Danny manages to keep the smile, then, and his blue eyes are warm. “If you feel so bad about it, sneak me some of that booze next time, yeah?”

"Dan, I am not going to help you mix IV drugs and alcohol-”

“Just leave it in a really easy-to-reach place and I’ll help myself.”

“Danny. No.”

“Danny yes.”

“Daniel Michaelson-”

“Ryan Niall Michaelson-”

Nate’s rumbling laughter interrupts them. It’s such a rare sound that both of them go immediately silent when they hear it, and Danny even tries to look over his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the ache to see the smile on Nate’s face. It’s slight, nearly private - a smile barely noticeable by anyone who isn’t looking for it.

But Danny is, and through the fog of the painkillers still coursing through his system, he sees it. 

“What?” Ryan says. “What’re you laughing at?”

Nate lays a hand over the star he once carved into Danny’s skin, and moves to rest his nose, just lightly, against the warmth of Danny’s neck, breathing in the scent of him under the hospital-smell that surrounds them. “Nothing,” He says, and Danny shivers a little as his lips move against the curve of the D at the back of his neck. “I’m j-j-just... realizing I’m g-going to listen to you two do this for the r-rest of my life.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ryan’s voice is dry. 

“No,” Nate says, eyes closed. He can almost feel them in the cabin, like this, just the two of them on days Bram was gone. Lying in the bed wasting the whole morning being warm, just them together. Warm and safe. It feels like being in Danny’s apartment during their year and a half of freedom, the way sometimes when Nate couldn’t get out of bed Danny would just stay with him, holding him, until the pain inside of Nate had lessened enough to let him stand. 

Now it’s his turn to hold Danny. 

-

@tiddiroki @whump-it @bleeding-demon-teeth @finder-of-rings @whumpywhumper @endless-whump @18-toe-beans @pumpkinthefangirl @goneuntil @swordkallya @astrobly @evermetnotforgotten @whumpiary @card-games-and-pain @raigash @whump-tr0pes @orchidscript @wildfaewhump @doveotions @eatyourdamnpears 

#daniel michaelson's story #hospital whump #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #referenced stabbing #referenced drug use #alcohol use #caretakers #caretaker and whumpee #whump #aftermath whump #the bad arc #injured whumpee #survivor's guilt tw

[itmightbeneb]

Small post-prison Dream drabble

CW: (almost) panic attacks

If this gets a good enough reception, I may do more :)

It was raining, but Dream couldn't stop to appreciate it. Appreciating rain? Dream almost laughed at the idea, but after months of nothing but lava and obsidian, the cold and wet was a nice change of pace. There had been water in the prison, he supposed, but it was warm, heated by the lava all around him, warm and dirty after months of use. The cold was a nice change of pace. And this rain, this clean water, might actually do something to clean the blood of his skin. It was certainly soothing his burns and scars, burns and scars Quackity and Sam would have to pay for.

Dream needed more stuff, he needed diamonds then netherite, he needed enchantments and potions and farms, better food as well, he doubted he could handle another potato, he doubted he could handle much at all for the moment but that was a problem for later him. Bread would sustain him for now, although he did keep a few extra potatoes in his inventory just in case.

The problem was, he had nothing. Well that wasn't entirely true, he had some bread, a handful of potatoes and a freedom he hadn't had in months, but other than that, nothing. Not even a wooden pickaxe to his name and the entire server wanting him dead. Well then, better a wooden pickaxe than nothing, he thought. He had to start somewhere.

Breaking down a tree was more difficult than he remembered, or maybe he was just remembering what it was like with an efficiency V netherite axe. He might be weaker now, he might be more vulnerable, did the prison affect his muscles that much? He'd still managed to kill Tommy so he can't have wasted away too much, but then why was this stone taking so long to mine? He didn't have the weakness effect from the elder guardians anymore, but he wondered if the months of constant weakness had affected his muscles. Well that was just another thing on the to-do list, get stronger again. Maybe strength potions would work, but for that he'd have to go to the nether. He was a long way off being prepared for that.

After getting a stone pickaxe and axe, Dream wondered if caving or strip mining would be better. He didn't want to be in any cramped space if he could avoid it, but in order to get armour and weapons, in order to protect himself, he'd have to go in. Both had their benefits and downsides. Strip mining was more cramped, darker, closer to being like the prison he had only just escaped. But, if he was weaker after his stay there, it offered fewer mobs to deal with. Less chance to die right after he made it out. He couldn't die now, not after everything that had happened, not after he finally made it out. He had to get his revenge on Sam and Quackity, and that meant staying alive, getting gear, getting stronger. Punz as well, Punz had betrayed him. Went to Tommy and Tubbo and Sam to put him away. He'd cut ties with Punz though, he was on the list, just further down. No, it was Sam and Quackity that needed to pay the most. That meant going underground where there was no daylight and lava around any corner. So, strip mining it was then, less chance of dying was always a good decision. Plus, Dream thought, he couldn't let a stupid fear stop him from going where he pleased. He wasn't Tommy, getting scared whenever he was near a plains biome, he was Dream, a god, someone who had survived worse that a stupid obsidian box. And he was going to make them pay for putting him there.

He dug down to Y=11, finding some coal and iron on the way down. This was good, this was normal, he ignored the tightness in his chest. Although, it was eased by the chill air. He didn't know he could miss the cold, but here he was, feeling nostalgia over a temperature. A temperature, he quickly realised that he couldn't handle as well as he used to. Spending so much time next to a sea of lava, in the sweltering heat, had changed the way his body handled temperature, it seemed. He quickly made a torch and held it in his off hand. Fire would warm him up, enough that he didn't die at least. The furnaces smelting iron also helped warm him up. He made sure to note that wherever he ended up staying better be well insulated. He couldn't go for a desert though, the heat would be welcome but he wanted rain. Maybe a jungle? They were tricky to navigate which would help deter people from finding him. Warm, but not the heat of lava, wet, tricky to find. Perfect.

Enough iron had been smelted to make a pickaxe and a bucket. A good start. Strip mining had never been Dreams favourite, he got bored easily and, unless he managed to hyperfocus on the task, could never pay attention long enough to find anything. However today was different, while he did find himself getting bored and wanting to change tasks, he managed to force himself to continue mining, placing torches periodically to prevent spawns. The tightness in his chest eased a little at the moment.

Eventually he had enough iron for armour. It wouldn't be as strong as the netherite he was used to, the netherite he needed if he were to survive an encounter with another player, but it was better than nothing. Hadn't Technoblade beaten Quackity while only wearing iron armour? Although that was Quackity, Dream would need better armour to survive an encounter with a competent player.

Dream spotted diamonds, the last few he'd need for a full set of armour and tools. There was a problem though, they were across a large lava lake. He could already feel the heat, humid and heavy just like in the cell. The cell he'd only just escaped from. He could do this though, just bridge across the lava, grab the diamonds and head out. He'd need to deal with more lava in the nether anyway, this was nothing. This couldn't harm him. It just simply couldn't.

Dream shifted, edging across the lake. Slowly. He was usually so fast, it must have been the effects of the elder guardians, he told himself, his weakened muscles from the elder guardians, that must be it. Heat rose up to meet him, making him sweat under his heavy armour. His armour was so heavy, his muscles were weaker but were his bones as well? How long had it been since he had seen sunlight? There had been a small amount of time today, before he went mining, and it had been blinding. Too bright and yet not enough at the same time. He wanted to just lay in the sunshine with grass beneath his fingers forever. He had to bring his vitamin D levels up again. He wondered how many vitamins he was deficient in now, thanks to Sam. His body was wrecked and it was all Sam's fault, and Tommy's and Tubbo's as well.

The sound of the lava though, was what almost got him. It bubbled and popped rhythmically, always the same. In the cell there had been exactly three sounds: the elder guardians coming to weaken him, the constant ticking of the clock striking its way into his brain, and the bubble and pop of the lava preventing him from getting out. He knew every small sound lava could make, down to the smallest detail, and it was here again now. Except this time he had blocks and air above the lava. And, he realised while quickly unshifting and looking through his inventory, a water bucket. The hissing of obsidian being made was music to his ears, gone was the sound, almost. There was still a layer under the obsidian that was still quietly bubbling away, but the sound was obscured. Dream looked at the obsidian, that tightness in his chest was back. He ignored it, he had exclusively walked on obsidian for the last few months, he could do this again. He did. He walked, slowly, almost too slowly, over to the diamonds and mined them up. It was an eight vein, more than enough to complete everything. A couple diamonds to spare would always help anyway.

Next came enchantments, or the nether. He should probably check what he had in his ender chest, it had been so long he had almost forgotten anything that was in there, but the only ones he knew of were by where people lived (for obvious reasons) and he didn't exactly want to go there. So, he figured, off to the nether it was. Blaze powder and pearls were what he needed. Unenchanted diamond armour, he was prepared enough, he was over prepared if anything. Unless he found a player.Dream quickly found another lava pool, better to make a new portal than risk being found in a known one. The lava raised the same reaction as last time, but he needed it this time, he couldn't get rid of it. Well he could, he had a diamond pickaxe, but that was slow. Dream wasn't exactly known for being slow. He placed a block in the lava and the water next to it, steam came up to meet him as obsidian was formed. Breaking the block he placed caused more steam and more obsidian, but the base of the portal was complete. He made an upside down L shape with some cobble, placing water at the top. Now it was time to pick up the lava. Why couldn't he pick up the lava? He used to throw himself into lava for fun and how his stupid brain was saying he couldn't handle it through a bucket? Dream's breathing quickened, this was bad. He picked the water back up and made the rest of the lake into obsidian. The diamond pick would be useful after all. He told himself it was because he needed extra obsidian for an ender chest.

The purple spirals of the portal stared at Dream. He needed to go through. He needed to go through and find a fortress, not die, not have a panic attack, and get out. The first three points would be easy, the last? He had held it off so far, he could continue to do so. Until he was the most powerful person on the server again, he would not allow himself to rest enough for his brain to catch up on what happened. When he was safe, when he was feared, he could allow himself to examine his mental health, make it stronger again. He couldn't be seen as weak, they'd kill him, or put him back in the prison. He couldn't be weak. Dream stepped through the portal.

There were a few signs of life, but it didn't seem like he was in a well trafficked area. Not the best spawn, but he could work with it for now. He sneaked constantly, on the off chance someone else was around. The heat if the nether reminded him of the cell. At least there wasn't much obsidian around. He had spawned in a warped forest, so he quickly dug into the wall a little and stared at an enderman. He was too far for it to reach him, but he could reach it. It dropped a pearl. One half down, now he just needed to find a fortress. He added angry endermen to the list of sounds he wasn't sure why he missed, but did nonetheless.

The endermen reminded him of a certain hybrid waiting back in the overworld. He'd have to get into contact with Ranboo again.

He had never minded the heat of the nether before, but now it suffocated him. He longed for the wind, even the stale but cold air from caves, but he had to press on. He told himself the humidity, or the heat, was the reason he had difficulty breathing.

Eventually, Dream found a fortress. The blaze spawner was pretty easy to find as well. Finally, luck had decided to give him a break. The first blaze he killed didn't drop a rod, but the second one did. Blocking himself away, he pulled out a crafting table. The blaze rod got turned into power, then combined with the pearl to make an eye of ender. Finally, Dream surrounded the eye in obsidian, creating an ender chest.They have off a faint glow. Being boxed into the wall with netherack all around, the ender chest was Dream's only source of light. He had missed the darkness, the lava had always illuminated his cell, giving off a bright orange light that he couldn't escape. The chest was different though, softer, easier on the eyes.

Dream opened his ender chest. He found his spare set of netherite armour, not fully enchanted but he could make it work for now, he'd get books in a bit to make it stronger. He'd have to be stronger this time. This could never happen again. There was also a bunch of netherite, he'd upgrade his tools in a bit, once he was out of the nether. And, of course, there was his trident, his riptide III trident. Some small voice inside him hoped it was still raining when he got back to the surface.

He had God apples now. How appropriate, he thought, that the man who can bring back the dead, a walking god, get access again to his God apples.Dream ditched the diamond armour and tools, and pulled on the netherite. Nightmare. He still needed to train, get his strength back, brew potions. But he was back, and the people who threw him into the obsidian prison were going to pay.

He made his way back to the portal, back to the overworld. He had to admit to himself, however much he hated to do so, that he now hated the nether. It was too hot, too much lava, the bubble and pop sounding over and over and over just like in the prison, the stupid obsidian box. He'd use the overworld for travel when he could. But, he thought to himself, he couldn't show weakness to others, they couldn't know how they'd managed to infect his mind, he would travel via the nether when with others. If he ever was with others. Was there anyone left that didn't hate him? That hadn't left him? Dream pushed those thoughts aside, forced himself to climb back to the surface. The cold air of the caves was a relief from the nether, but it was the rain he was seeking.

Dream hopped onto the grass and just stood there for a few seconds, letting the cold soothing rain hit his face. He'd get too cold soon, he knew that his body's ability to regulate temperature was ruined by living next to lava for- how long was it? Dream didn't know, doubted he ever would for certain.He had a riptide trident, a water bucket, and feather falling netherite boots. Dream smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time in a long long while. Pulling out his trident, he pushed himself into the air. Wind and rain whipped his face, he didn't know he could miss this. Dream flew through the air, he was finally free.

Now time to grind, then hunt down Sam.

#dreamwastaken #dsmp #dream smp #mcytblr #mcyt #dream #NebWrites #dreblr

[lostcoves]

– isolation

+ ft. nagito komaeda

+ wc: 206 

+ format: drabble

+ cw: kidnapping, drugging, isolation

+ request: nagito just being isolated. no light, no human interactions, nothing. just total isolation until he falls in more madness. not being locked by his partner or something like that, being locked by someone who just hates him.

day one

nagito didn’t remember who took him but he remembered the sensation of being drugged and tossed like garbage in the back of someone’s car. he remembered being dragged across the ground and thrown into some strange cell. it was terrifying yet exhilarating. what would happen next?

day three

nagito didn’t realize how dark it was. he already had a vitamin d deficiency so he wasn’t too worried about the lack of sunlight. yet, he began to long for the outdoors. to feel the breeze against his skin, to breathe in the fresh air. how much longer would he be in this prison?

week two

two weeks without human interaction would have been a blessing for a shut in but nagito wasn’t like that. he could feel himself slipping, more so than usual. how many weeks would have to pass until someone saved him? but he was merely trash, who would want to save trash?

month five

nagito snapped.

year one

she entered the prison for the first time. nagito’s deranged laughter annoyed her ears. she loathed his existence but enough was enough. chiaki nanami slapped him across the face and spat on him. disgusting trash like him was of no use to her anymore.

#bee scribbles #danganronpa #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa goodbye despair x reader #nagito #nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #tw kidnapping #tw isolation #tw drugging #requested work