45hours and 44 minute fast done, down 0.4kg from last week (not a lot but better than nothing), got to my lowest weight so far and yes I did just treat myself to 2 of my mum’s home made cheese scones.
Had to stop the fast because I drove home from placement extremely dizzy and still feel dizzy now. Not ideal but what can you do ♀️♀️
jaja vankova is one of my faves from sytycd but she’s currently promoting a 7 day water fast to her HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of instagram followers like what the fuck. what. the. fuck. how irresponsible can you fucking be.
HI! This story is still an ongoing series! With a plot and plans ahead! The Plague had me pretty de-railed from writing steadily, but I AM still writing this anyway!
Lily belongs to @whumpqhs and Tristan to @adarhysenthe and this would not get written without them.
TW: food, fantasy religion, internalized ableism, whumpee becoming accustomed to visible disability and loss of former self image and the strangeness associated, mind control mention, touch aversion, PTSD triggering, panic attack
Tristan spent the next week helping Alsander to eat regular meals and regain a little strength. Lily, of course, continued fussing over San the whole time, but some of what Emmet said seemed to be slowly sinking in. She would still awkwardly change the subject if future plans were ever discussed. Emmet, meanwhile, was being introduced to squire life in the Temple. He still took time out to see the friends when he had his breakfast or luncheon breaks, and excitedly tell them about things he was learning.
Once Alsander could shuffle around upright for longer than a few minutes, they agreed that it was time to see a barber, get San a good walking stick, and maybe even find a ring of mind shielding. His dreams had been quiet since the soul-wound had been healed, and he was improving more rapidly for the rest he’d been getting, but he still didn’t like the idea of Conroy possibly being able to send thoughts to his head. The walking stick was the definite need, first and foremost. The more time San could spend moving, the stronger he’d get.
Tristan shrugged on his clerical robes over his more casual tunic and trousers, then helped to get some boots on Alsander’s feet. “You ready? You can lean on my arm until we get you that stick.”
TWs: food, fever. Institutionalized slavery implied by the existence of Box Boys. This is almost entirely 2k of pure fluff.
It had been partly cloudy when they’d reached the college campus, but by the time they finally left the Liberal Arts and Lit building, it was starting to plop those warning raindrops that come ahead of a real downpour.
“Oh, crap!” Alice patted the sides of her wheelchair. “Of course it rains and I forgot to put my rain poncho back in the pockets! Argh!”
David stopped pushing the wheelchair for a moment and took off his jacket, draping it over her head and around her shoulders like a hood. “We’re still halfway across the campus from the car.”
“I can’t take your jacket, you’ll get wet!”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m washable. Can you hang on to the armrests? I… think we better run,” he said glancing over his shoulder at the oncoming rain falling in sheets.
