fuzzy vision

Has anyone else wondered if the reason Allen is directionally challenged is because he should be wearing glasses like Past!Allen? He can’t see for shit and somehow it’s slipped his knowledge that glasses are correctional tools for the eyes and thinks they’re just fashion statements of dignity or something.

And like his arm when it was paralyzed, he just got use to living with everything a giant blur.  Timcanpy is always easy to keep track of, being such a bright gold. Cross’ red hair was always a beacon and Lavi’s too. Link’s blond is bright enough and the man’s usually in arm’s reach anyways.

I don’t think I realized just how bad yesterday’s migraine was until I inspected the inside of my mouth just now. My cheeks and tongue are bitten to pieces from my jaw going into spasm during the tremors and my throat is burned to shit from throwing up bile for three hours.

This is on top of the pulled muscles in my back and stomach from throwing up, and the continued fuzziness around my vision.

I used up every ounce of energy I had in going to Scotland, and then some. This is my body cashing the checks. Fucking ow.

Yuuri gets sick with the flu on his honeymoon with Victor, and thinks he’s ruined everything.

By Phyona (ao3) (other yoi ficlets by me)

“I can’t believe I did this,” Yuuri groans, words muffled as he buries himself face-down under a mountain of pillows.

“You didn’t do anything,” Victor says.  He sits on the mattress and rests a hand on the back of Yuuri’s thigh.

“I ruined our honeymoon.”

“No you didn’t, Yuuri. Everyone spends most of their time in bed on a honeymoon.  You just…happen to have the flu while we do it.”

Yuuri flips away a few pillows and pushes up on his forearms.  He glares at Victor over his shoulder.

“This is not what we’re supposed to be doing in bed,” he says, sniffling.  

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RWBY Fic: Aftermath Part 1

Title: Aftermath - Part 1
Series: RWBY
Pairing: QroWin
Rating: T
Summary: The dust has settled and everyone is now making their way to Mistral, including Team RNJR. Qrow is finally getting the help he needs and has an unexpected visitor.
Notes: An…..alternate take on the Volume 4 finale. I would have written more, but it’s late and I have work in the morning. Part 2 will be posted either tomorrow or Monday.

“….n’t worry Uncle Qrow, everything will be okay! It’s fine, we’ll get you to a doct….”

Ruby’s voice was the last thing he heard as Qrow faded in and out of consciousness. He remembered being loaded into an airship, and being disappointed it had been sent from Mistral, wondering why she didn’t send one for them.

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Diagnosis Story (This is long guys)

My symptoms were TEXTBOOK. Extreme fatigue, extreme thirst, frequent (like, basically fractions of a second from peeing your pants in public level) urination, sunken foggy (drug addict) looking eyes, extreme and sudden weight loss (about 15 lbs in two weeks), constant bottomless-pit hunger, fuzzy vision, and even (TMI?) a yeast infection. But because I wasn’t a child or teenager I was misdiagnosed. 

As I waited for the results in my doctor’s office I literally heard the nurses in the hallway laughing at my blood glucose number. (Which tbh, now that I’ve been diabetic for a bit… weren’t even that high.) The doctor came in and told me I was diabetic. When I started to cry he patted me on the head and said “Cheer up.” He gave me a blood glucose meter, a pamphlet, and told me to see him in two weeks. I was in shock, so I didn’t ask any questions. I just left. I called my mom crying and when she asked if I was type one or type two I realized the doctor hadn’t even told me. I had to dig up the paperwork between tears and look. The sheet said type two.

Over the next week and a half I continued to fade away. The doctor had put me on medication for the wrong disease and blood pressure medication. I didn’t have high blood pressure. So now, in addition to all of my other symptoms, I had to suffer through low blood pressure and was constantly dizzy. I called him frequently asking me for help because I couldn’t get my blood sugar below 300 or 400, I was dizzy, and I was still losing weight. He offered very little help. Out of desperation I had completely stopped eating carbs. (Fruit, breads, cereals, grains, sugars, starches, certain veggies…) I didn’t know what to do, nothing was working and I only continued to feel worse.

My mom flew to Oregon and began to battle on my behalf. It was clear I had been misdiagnosed, but to try and fight for yourself when your body is literally shutting down feels beyond impossible. How can you possibly fight through the medical bureaucracy when you can barely get out of bed in the morning? Thank god for moms. She fought with my GP to get a referral to a specialist, and then proceeded to hound their office daily until they found a way to fit me in. Sometime during this second week post misdiagnosis I felt weird enough that I finally decided to go to the ER. They told me I had been misdiagnosed (DUH) but didn’t want to give me insulin because “they didn’t want to send me too far in the other direction” and sent me home. THEY SENT A TYPE ONE DIABETIC HOME WITH NO INSULIN, NO EDUCATION, AND NO ACCESS TO INSULIN. It would still be days before I could get to my endocrinologist’s office.

One of the first things my endocrinologist said to me was “I am so sorry this happened to you. As you learned, being type one you will ALWAYS be treated like a type two, and you’re going to HAVE to be comfortable advocating for yourself.” Truer words have never been spoken. I have spent every doctor’s appointment (not to mention more than one social occasion) since diagnosis having to validate not only that I know my own condition, but that it is in fact type one diabetes. This has run the gamut from nurses and GPs, to ophthalmologists and dermatologists. All because I was diagnosed as an adult. It’s exhausting. (Anne Peter’s an MD who works with JDRF estimates about 30% of new type one diagnosis are in adults. This is not an insignificant number. Yet time and time again I am second guessed by doctors who assume I’m simply confused. I thought my story was unique, but I have heard countless like it. Many ending worse than my own… in hospitalizations or near losses of life. THIS MUST CHANGE.)

After a diabetes crash course at OHSU I was told “You can do your first injection here, or in your car but you can’t leave this hospital before you do it.” Being an anxious control freak I opted for my car… where I sat for an hour trying to get up the nerve to stab myself with a needle. Guys, this is VERY counter intuitive to all of your natural instincts. Also I’m a massive baby. My mom offered to do it, but I obviously (hi, again… control freak) couldn’t let her. We landed on some weird half-and-half where I held the insulin pen, but she forced my hand down so I couldn’t flinch away at the last second. Sometimes you just need moms.  

And then I went home and got on with my life.

I had lost all of the muscle and health I had worked so hard far. I had lost my relationship to food. I had lost a lot of security and spontaneity. I had lost my sense of self. I had to relearn how to eat, and how to think. I had to relearn how I related and reacted in the world. The symptoms of diabetes affect your personality and there’s just nothing you can do to truly get the old you back, not really. I’ve regained the muscle, the relationship with food (mostly), I’ve developed a new relationship with my body, the world, and how my life just is now. I spent a long time pretending I was fine when inside I felt like I was completely isolated. How on earth can you possibly express these cosmic life changing feelings and experiences when you barely grasp what is happening yourself? Those who have never gone through a similar experience just can’t really comprehend it. I adore my friends and family, and they did their best (and who can blame them for not understanding?) but the bungled attempts at “cheering you up” or “commiserating” often only lead to feeling more frustrated and alone. I learned to cope and for a long time just would pretend I was fine because it was so much easier than trying to explain something they would never understand  (and I wasn’t sure how to verbalize anyway.) It took me a long time to get back to where I had been socially. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be exactly where I was.

On the bright side I’ve found an AMAZING community. I have met some of the most brilliant, passionate, tough, inspiring, hilarious, and loving people anyone could hope to be friends with. I still have bad days but for the most part I’ve found my way out of the big, dark, trap-filled pit that diagnosis threw me into. I can’t thank the DOC (Diabetic Online Community) and the few IRL friends I’ve made for helping me along the way. I’m a stronger person now. I don’t know who I would be right now had this not happened… but I’m finally getting comfortable with the new me and that’s been kind of beautiful in its own way.

lonepiper5758  asked:

If your writing is a creative activity for fun then I think it's fine to work were the ideas are. It's not like a task you have an obligation to complete. It should be energising. Write where you will! Enjoy!

This is not the punch to the face I was expecting what.

Ahh thank you so much! You’re right, and you say it so eloquently too. I think it’s something I just needed to hear. ;o;

Voice in the Night, a League of Legends adventure

You awake, head pounding and vision fuzzy. As your eyes adjust to the dim, grey light of what appears to be a cell you look around. The ground is cold and all you can see across from you is a dark stone wall. Light flickers from an oddly colored torch a ways away, casting a murky purple light across the floor and walls. The bars confining you are gnarled and twisted, seeming almost as if they simply grew out of the stone floor beneath you. It’s too quiet besides a distant and droning hum, low and foreboding. You don’t remember how you got here. You don’t even know where here is. This cell, the light… even the air feels off. Too heavy, too thick. Your body aches with what you think is exhaustion, hunger perhaps. You need to get out of here. Whoever’s in the cell next to yours must feel the same way if their shouting is any indication.

So what is this?
It’s a Dungeons and Dragons game based in the League of Legends universe! It will be played with 4th edition since it offers the most options without too much homebrewing needed. We have an Insider account available to us but you’re free to use your own or a character sheet of your choice elsewhere. As long as it’s accurate and up to date you can do whatever you’re most comfortable with.

The game will be entirely through text and very roleplay heavy. Games will take place on roll20 sunday evenings around 7PM EST, three times a month. If you can’t make it to every single game that’s fine though!

Who can I play?
Any canon character (excluding void creatures), as well as original characters. Once we decide who all will be playing we’ll get together and discuss who’s playing what and work out technical details. Don’t worry about your race and class too much, we can work it all out together later, just pick a character you want to RP.

Who’s running this?
I’m Socialjusticewarwick on tumblr but you can call me Alan. I like video games and roleplaying and roleplaying video games. If you have any questions you can send me a message!

Where do I apply?
Right here

bellamyblake  asked:

300 words + “Can you hear me?” <333

yay! @aarondingel!!!

“Can you hear me?”

Robert’s chest hurts, breathing difficult. He’s sat on the floor, back to something hard, and blinks, tries to clear his fuzzy vision. Chas’ face swims into focus and Robert shoves down the rush of shame. She has a hand on his face, and he tries not to push into it. “Chas?”

“That’s it,” Chas says, looking relieved. Liv’s standing behind her, worried. “Alright?”

Talking hurts, his whole body aches with the effort of breathing, and Robert’s fingers wrap around Chas’ wrist.

“S’alright, Rob,” she soothes, leaning in a little closer. She’s blocking everything out, he realises, his attention settling on her, on Liv. He doesn’t even know where they are. Chas’ makeup is smudged, her hands shaking.

“What happened?”

There’s the sound of muttering, of the bang of doors and Robert remembers. Almost immediately his breathing picks up, tries to push up onto his feet, but Chas’ grip is strong.

“Chas,” Robert tries, shutting his eyes against the panic bubbling in his chest, the urge to run overwhelming him. “I can’t—”

“Hey,” Chas says, soft. Her eyes are wide and wet — she’s been crying, Robert realises. “It’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” Robert says, fighting the urge to cry. His eyes flick to Liv, her expression equal parts scared and unsure, and he shoves everything down, wants to be strong and digs deep. “I thought he’d be fine.”

Chas doesn’t know what to say, but her grip on him tightens.

“We’ll be alright, Rob,” Liv says, trying to sound strong, and Robert feels worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says, letting Chas pull him to his feet. He curls an arm around Liv’s shoulders and pulls her in. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Liv says, sounding small.

“It will be,” Chas says, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah,” Robert says, feeling anything but.

exactly 300 words because i’m a w e s o m e (lol)

Not feeling very well so have probably the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever drawn (simple colours because I’m not up to painting right now). Dad Sans and Chara getting along is my absolute favourite thing, I need more of that.

Week 7! is a continuation from last week. The static and busy sounds in the song, “The Autumnal Crush” by Clark reminds me of the fuzzy vision I experienced from blacking out after the steel pole fell on my head. Since I can’t actually recall being unconscious, I thought I’d share with you what I discovered after I woke up. True story, I swear. I felt like a Looney Toons character with the welp i had after that



Miscommunications. A Caboose x Female Reader fic.

I got a prompt for some Caboose, and since he is a sweet precious baby even if he is a dirty blue I have accepted. (I love him what a cutie)

“Hey, are you banging Caboose?”

You smacked your forehead into the underside of the Warthog as you shot upwards, Grif’s question had come out of nowhere, and you suddenly regretted not wearing your helmet as you groaned and pulled yourself out from under the vehicle.

Grif laughed loudly, clutching his stomach as you flopped onto the ground and rubbed your face, smacking your other hand out to swipe at the orange-armoured soldier.

“What makes you think that?” you asked, taking the opportunity to find the tools you needed while the fuzziness in your vision cleared.

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Purple (Yoosung X MC)


The world was monochrome.

Consisting of promises of blue skies, and green grass under the soles of graphite-hued feet.

It was what you dreamt of. Finally being able to see the flecks of brown that were freckles, the rosy dust of blush along pale, peachy cheeks. Being able to describe your hair and eyes and features without using the word grey.


You were fed up of grey.

You were fed up of grey walls and grey ceilings as the days ticked by, dreaming of rainbows and vibrant flowers and clouds that floated past on a watercolour sunset.

But there was something about him.


It made you dizzy, your vision fuzzy when she thought of him, which was often. Your eyes tingled, as if something was creeping in from the edges.


It was cold outside when you’d met again, when you’d kissed.

You’d been huddled under thick coats and layers of jumpers outside of his dorm, Yoosung wrapping his scarf around your neck, despite your defiant protests. Numb, cold, glove-defiant hands had been pressed to flushed cheeks, clumsy lips brushing against clumsy lips.

That’s when the world exploded.

You’d been ripped apart, pushing away from each other instinctively, gasping for breath as it was suddenly ripped from your lungs.

You went sprawling in the snow, red and raw hands sinking into the white foam in an attempt to catch yourself.





Was he… seeing the same?

“M-M-MC, your hair, it’s.. brown..?”

You pulled at your locks, bringing them in front of your face.

Is this brown?

“And yours… it’s blonde?”

His eyes widened, tugging at his hair.

“W-Whoa-! This is blonde?!”

Your favourite colour must of changed ten times in the following moments, shifting from the orange glow of the street lamps to the bright blue of his hoodie.

But then you saw his eyes for the first time.




C o l o u r.

Purple couldn’t be more perfect.

Lucid Dreaming Part 2 - Joker x Reader

So I am thinking about just continuing this as a series or adding a part 3? Please let me know what you think but for now here is part 2! Hope I don’t disappoint, I’m not 100% sure about the ending :( - let me know

PART 1      PART 6




You were hit with confusion just seconds before your head felt fuzzy and your vision blurred making you see black even though your eyes were open. The memories of who you used to be filled your mind and that was all you could see. It was like you couldn’t open your eyes to see the truth, to see what you were now. You were happy now, weren’t you? You were who you were meant to be, you had J and he had saved you from a world of normal but these ‘visions’ sent you back. You didn’t want to go back! Not to him, not to normal. You thrashed around in the chair shaking your head to try and rid you of the terrible torments.  



*bang* another goon gone. “Where the FUCK is she!” He didn’t know why he even hired these people. “One job. Keep her away from this” *bang* and another. Other henchmen stood round the room not daring to move while occasionally others turned up after cleaning up the mess he had made of Andrews men. Frost came from the kitchen with a package, 

“Boss, it’s for you” He cautiously started to hand him the box when he just reached out and snatched it. He started ripping it apart with no patience and poured out his girls phone and photos, professional photos taken of his queen. When she was walking down the street, in the club, here with him. They started getting more and more personal, images of his baby in ways only he should see - someone had been following her and him. He crouched to the floor as he continued to flick though, dropping each to the floor as he saw them. (y/n) ‘s phone beeped with an unknown number, throwing the remaining photos away from him, he opened the message. Two new pictures, one of her ex, sliced apart the one thing that haunts her and the second of her, strapped to a chair with some of the same cuts and her eyes misted over and skin as pale has his. He fell back resting his arms on his knees and rocking slightly in thought, then he realised, he could track the text. Standing up he threw the phone at one of the henchmen, “Find her. But no one touches her but me” Striding through the chaos of the penthouse as men ran this way and that collecting guns and knives laying around . Pushing his hair from his face he wiped some of the smudged lipstick from his mouth and began thinking about the many slow and painful ways he could do to make this bastard pay for what he has caused. He was out for blood and a hell of a lot of it. No one plays with his toys. But then she wasn’t just a toy. People said that Gotham was his empire but they were wrong, she was his empire for what is a king without his queen. When he planned his break out of Arkham again he had no intention to go back but he couldn’t rule without her so he built her a safe haven then bust her out, with style of course. Yes, she was a little crazy, she had to be to stay with him but she wasn’t as… blood thirsty as him.

Frost gave him the signal that everything was loaded. J strode towards the door with purpose grabbing his already blood stained gloves from the counter as he passed.



You wanted to wake up. You were tired of being trapped in your mind the images of your first kill - how you sliced away at the life you had taken and how they sent you to Arkham. Sent you to the Joker who fixed you and made you who you were. You could still hear and feel everything around you even though your vision was blocked, you could feel the knife as it worked away at your skin like it was nothing you were screaming and withering with the pain but you couldn’t stop yourself. The images became more and more vivid as they travelled further back to your old family, your friends who died at your hand, your parents. They lost it when you were sent away and ran off with the Joker. Your past life was dead and all because of you and J. As the pain got worse and worse you began to give in, your brain arguing with itself about J. You knew he was the man who saved you but the memories messed with you more and more and you were growing tired, the voices in your head were getting louder almost screaming that 'the queen shall fall’.


The ground shook but now you couldn’t tell the dreams from reality. The knife slices seemed to have stopped a few hours ago but you had no concept of time anymore, the only thing you now knew is that you were alone and the memories were receding leaving the whole world grey. Hands grabbed your wrists roughly as the rope was cut without care nicking your wrists in the process. You were pulled to your feet roughly but you remained with your head down, Andrew was probably going to get rid of you like trash.

“Get a move on bitch” Andrew tried pushing you away and out of the room but you stumbled and fell as your head was still spinning, “you little fuckin…” Andrew was cut off by a growl that sent shivers down your shredded skin. You tried to crawl away but you couldn’t and once again fell but this time at someone feet. Looking up one colour seemed to break the grey fuzziness that you could see - Green. J came for you. “Your playthings a little broken Joker. Hope you don’t mind me playing with it for a while” J walked past you and straight to Andrew and his fist collided with his face breaking the smirk it held. Andrew fell back into the chair as J kept on hitting getting blood spattered on his gloves and coat as you watched, henchmen piled in with guns and knives. The joker grabbed one and started slicing Andrews face carelessly, throwing his arm side to side while slicing away, blood spraying across his face and shirt turning his white gloves almost completely red.

“No bastard touches my things”  J growled placing the knife against Andrews’ throat and forcing it in watching the blood flow out.


“Boss” Frost called for me and I turned slowly blood covering my gloves. I would have made his pain last longer but he angered me too much.

“What!” I snapped before I looked down at my doll, beaten and broken on the floor. Ripping my gloves from my hands and throwing them to the ground my jacket shortly followed as I fell to my knees by her, gently pulling her into my lap. “Oh baby, baby, baby” I sobbed pushing her hair away from her face as she gazed up at me, her eyes still slightly foggy.

“You came” she smiled slightly,

“Of course I came for my doll, it’s me and you baby, forever” she started coughing blood coming up and onto my already stained shirt. “Shit.” I started to lift her careful not to hurt her too much, “come on baby we’re going home”

Originally posted by harleenfrancesqvinzel