#all while my mom's mind and body is shutting down from a rare disease and i'm the only one taking care of her

[valentineish]

If life really needs to subject me to constant terror and existentialism, it would be nice if it could like. Space it out a bit. Maybe schedule in a couple vacations and weekends? I'm really trying to be reasonable here

#good news: no longer worrying if my apartment is kicking me out #bad news: disability got denied and requires organizing for legal action #all while my mom's mind and body is shutting down from a rare disease and i'm the only one taking care of her #none of this feels fucking real and i don't know how to allocate my limited energy to all of it #i was sad for like 12 hours and now i'm just increasingly more furious about everything that allowed this shit to happen #ugh #cat-astrophes #open mic night

[plsimsuchasimp]

cheating pt. 2

part 1 here

Ft: Suna Rintarou x !gn reader, a little bit of atsumu miya x !gn reader

Genre/warnings: hurt/comfort, brief mention of fighting, panic attack, angst to fluff

Wc: 2.6k

NOT PROOFREAD!

The morning after you broke up with Suna, you wake up with a sour taste in your mouth, hugging a pillow. Momentarily disoriented, you look around your room until you spot your phone, and it all comes crashing down.

Oh no. Your chest tightens when you see 41 missed calls from Suna and 118 unread text messages over the course of the night. You'd fallen asleep with your phone set to silent, crying into your pillow at the immense betrayal.

Slowly, you unlock your phone to see increasingly frantic messages from Suna, begging you to forgive him and take him back. Ten new voicemails. You shouldn't press it, shouldn't listen to his voice. But you do.

"Y/N," immediately, your heart cracks at the sound of his voice. He sounds so desperate, so frantic, tears clinging to the words. "I'm so, so, sorry. You have every right to be mad at me, every right to hate me. I hate myself too, and I'll never forgive myself for doing that. I-I just wanted you to know that I-" the recording becomes quieter, only the faint sniffles picked up on it. "I love you."

It ends there, and you freeze. He'd never told you he loved you before, skipping over it whenever you jokingly mentioned the future. You knew he was scared of commitment, but it still hurt whenever he ignored it. A particular memory from two weeks ago floods your mind, no matter how hard you try to push it away.

You were lying on Suna's bed, resting your head against his chest as he scrolled through the videos he wanted to upload to Worldstar. His arm was slung around you, his lips pulled up in a smirk, his green eyes flicking from the phone to you and back again. It was comfortable, a lazy Sunday with the sun just beginning to set behind his curtains. You nestled further into his chest, his heartbeat regular and reassuring. You let your eyes drift closed, basking in the warmth of his affection.

Almost too soft for him to hear, half hoping he wasn't listening, you whisper "I love you." He stiffens, and you know you messed up. His heart skips a beat, and he pretends like he didn't hear you. You swallow, embarrassed that he didn't say it back, but neither of you moves until Suna gets up, saying he has to use the restroom. He doesn't come back for a while, and when he does, he mutters something about it getting late (it was barely 6 pm) and how he'd forgotten that he had to do something today. Taking the cue, you took your stuff and left, silently cursing yourself for saying it before he was ready. Things had been awkward the next few days, with him responding less and less frequently and seeming more distant and cold.

Come to think of it, it was right before he started acting strange.

oh.

Pressing a shaking hand to your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut. Was that why?

Before you could sink deeper into your thoughts, you heard a knock at the door of your bedroom. The door opens to reveal Atsumu, standing awkwardly in your door frame. Yelping, you bring the bedcovers up to cover yourself, forgetting that you’re still wearing your clothes from last night. “How did you get in here?!”

He blushes, eyes flickering around your room and refusing to land on you. “Yer mom told me where the spare key was.”

You sighed, and he came over and sat on your bed, looking at his feet placed on the floor. “Ya okay?” he asked, voice low. That wasn’t what you’d expected. It was rare for Atsumu to be serious, rare for his brow to be furrowed so severely.

“Well, that’s debatable,” you said, scoffing a little. He nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“I saw Suna last night,” he blurted out.

“You did?” Your eyebrows lift, surprised at his uncharacteristic behavior.

“I punched him,” he admits, lifting his head. “I was just too angry at him for hurting ya.”

Then it was your turn to look at the floor, not responding to this statement. What were you supposed to say, anyway? You sit in awkward silence, waiting for Atsumu to gather his thoughts and speak again.

“He’s in love with ya, ya know,” he says quietly. “That’s why it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why would he cheat on me if he loves me?” you ask, lip quivering slightly. You noticed the tense of the word; is. Not was. He sighs in frustration, shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know.” Seemingly debating on whether to say something, he decided to anyways, “He just let me hit him.”

“What?”

“He just stood there when I punched him, didn’t even punch back or anything. He just looked so sad, ya know?”

“Sad?” you scoff. “He was the one who decided to do it.” He nodded, knowing you’re right.

“I don’t really know why I came here,” he admitted. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Aren’t ya missing class right now?”

“I’m not going today,” you mutter. He understood. Silently, he got up and left the room, and you heard the door shut short afterward, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It wasn’t raining anymore, but the clouds still clung dark and heavy, low to the mountains and shrouding the distant buildings. Puddles shone on the ground, the leaves outside your window glistening with raindrops.

It hurt. It hurt so badly, the confusion and anger and sadness all combined. The truth was, you still loved Suna, and apparently, he loved you. Falling back onto your pillow, you felt like crying, but the tears wouldn’t come. Your eyes were dry, the pain finally internalized. The good memories of your time with Suna came then, flooding your mind and squeezing your heart.

The first time you two kissed, in a parking lot of a 7/11  at two in the morning. His lips tasted like soda, the sweet fizz almost intoxicating. It was a quick kiss, feeling him smile against your lips and seeing the smirk on his face when he pulled away.

Watching the stars together from the roof of a building on a moonless night, offering you his jacket when he noticed you were cold. You fell asleep in his arms that night, the cool winter air brushing your cheeks and inciting him to hold you just a little bit closer.

The playful insults exchanged, the banter slowly turning into backhanded compliments, and then sweet nothings whispered in your ear.

The warm, enveloping hugs, although somewhat rare- he would hold you, one arm on the small of your back and the other caressing the back of your neck.

The skeptical look on his face when you took him to the grocery store, fully intending to make a new dish you’d seen on TV with him. Not noticing the softness in his eyes as he watched you, your excitement contagious in his smile.

The teasing he endured because of you. The day you walked into the gym, bringing him a homemade bento, the boys had teased him relentlessly. He didn’t mind, because it made you happy.

All of that was gone now, and the miserable aching in your heart was a constant reminder of it. You let sleep take you away again, the pain in your expression being smoothed away by the gentle lull. When Suna slipped into your room using the same key Atsumu had failed to properly hide, he saw you curled up, hugging a pillow in your sleep, a small crease marking your forehead. He always said you looked angelic in your sleep.

“Suna…” you murmured, shifting slightly, and his eyes grew sad at how you grimaced slightly at his name.

He made his way to your desk chair, sitting down silently and grabbing a piece of paper from the desk along with a pencil, beginning to write.

When you awoke to the sound of a pencil scratching paper, it took you a second to register that there was someone else in your room. You screamed, clutching your pillow until you recognized Suna.

His eyes found yours, and the guilt and shame in them were almost overwhelming. You looked away, clenching your jaw. The pencil fell from his hand, seeming to fall in slow motion until it hit and bounced off of the floor, clattering once, twice, and then three times before rolling away from his foot.

“Get out,” you whisper.

“Can we just talk about this-” he rushes, standing up and impulsively moving closer to you.

“I said get out!” You yell, flinching away from his touch as if it’s some sort of deadly disease. His face falls, and he withdraws his hand, swallowing hard. “What is there to talk about? You cheated. It’s not a mistake. It’s a choice, and you chose to break my heart!” You look at him, anger and pain mixing in your eyes, and he finally gets it. You’re not coming back. He ruined it with an impulse decision, a reckless choice in the face of his fear of commitment and the overwhelming feelings that he didn’t know how to deal with.

The day you told him you loved him, he froze only because he didn’t know what to do. He’d gotten up, gone to the bathroom, and sunk down the door, back straight and head tilted towards his knees. This had never happened to him before- every time he’d been with a girl, he’d never felt like this. Was it love? He already knew he messed up by not saying it back, but his emotions were confusing, distracting, almost frightening. He’s taken his mind off of it by falling into a stranger’s arms that night, reassuring himself that he was still the same old Suna, the one who didn’t need anyone.

God, how he hated himself for that. Tears welled up in his eyes against his will, and he stared down at the floor.

“Why are you still here?” You spoke, back turned to him, “I thought I told you I didn’t want to talk to you.” Your words stung, you knew they did, but you didn’t really care. The paper in his hand fluttered to the floor, almost inaudibly brushing across the wood. His bottom lip quivered, and the tear that clung to his eyelash slipped silently down his face, making his green eyes appear even brighter than normal.

Thunder crashed outside your window, and Suna froze, his sharp intake of breath making you turn. He looked petrified- his entire body seemed to be shrinking into itself, his hands trembling and clenched, his eyes wide with unmistakable fear in them.

“Suna?” You got up from your place on the bed, curious as to what was happening, then remembered. Suna had a crippling fear of thunderstorms. “Suna. Suna, hey, look at me.” You waved a hand in front of his face, but he just started shaking harder, his breathing getting faster. Gripping him by the shoulders, you gently pushed him towards your bed and helped him sit down, your brow furrowing. “Can I touch you?” you asked gently, receiving the smallest of nods in return. You sat beside him and started rubbing his back, gently holding him closer to you. Thunder triggering a panic attack had only happened twice before, but you were familiar with how to help him through it. “I’m going to go close the curtains now.” Almost methodically talking him through your movements in an attempt to distract him from the thunder growing louder outside, you went to close the curtains and turned on your bedside lamp. “Tell me how I can help.”

He struggled to speak, his breath turning into short hyperventilations until you sat down next to him and started breathing loudly and evenly, hoping he would hear you and try to match his breathing. To your surprise, he turned to you and hugged you, burying his face in your chest and huddling close to your body. Stiff at first, you slowly wrapped your arms around him and rocked back and forth, whispering into his ear that it was almost over and he would get through it. You could feel his back shuddering, trying to maintain control of his breathing and failing. Out of instinct, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, staring at the picture of you two that still rested on your nightstand, and you felt his breathing gradually slow. Soon, he stopped shaking, but he still clung to you as if you were his life raft in a tumultuous storm.

It wasn’t until you felt wetness on your shirt that you pulled back, concerned, only to see tears dripping down Suna’s face. He instantly missed your warmth, your smell, the feeling of you holding him, but he knew it would be selfish of him to try to pull you back in.

You didn’t speak, eyes flickering from him down to the blanket underneath you. Your anger was gone now, and as hard as you tried to hate him, looking at the vulnerability displayed on his face melted the resolve you had.

“You look terrible,” you say, eyes wandering over his disheveled hair and puffy eyes.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he responds, and you instantly feel awkward.

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble, unsure of what to say. He just shrugs, gazing downwards.

“About what I said in the voicemail.” At these words, you freeze. “I meant it, and I’m so sorry for not saying it earlier.”

You turn away from him, eyes burning, as you feel a lump in your throat. “If you love me, why did you do it?”

His words die in his throat because that’s what he’s been wondering this whole time. If he loved you, why did he do it? “I-I did it because I was scared.”

“Scared?” you spit, pain lacing your words, “Scared? Do you know how terrified I was to tell you? I know that you’re scared of commitment, I know that it’s hard for you to express your feelings, but do you have any idea how many hours I spent wondering if you even liked me anymore? If you even cared at all?” Hot tears spill down your face, your lips quivering as you tip your head back and stare at the ceiling. Quieter, you say, “Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep because of you? No, you don’t. But I still believed in us, I really thought it could work, and you threw it all away because you were scared?”

You shook your head, and he stared at you, hating that he made you feel like this. “I had no idea,” he rasps, voice husky from the breath caught in his throat. “When you told me you loved me, I realized I loved you too. I’d never felt like that before, and I was scared of my own feelings, so I wanted-” He stopped, unsure of how to continue. “I needed to distract myself.”

Each word stings, a knife stabbing into your back, as the tears fall harder and faster. You look up at him and see there are tears streaming down his face too, the shame too much for him to bear.

“I would do anything for you to come back.” His voice breaks, becoming breathier as his shoulders begin to shake again. “Please.”

In one swift movement, you pulled him close to you, and it was your turn to huddle into his chest as you sobbed. Just for a second, just for a moment, just to feel his touch again, but he wrapped his arms around you tightly and didn’t let you go. Clinging to each other, you shared the pain.

“If we can move past this,” you mumbled, face pressed against his shirt, breathing in his scent, “you can’t ever do something like that again.”

“No, no, of course not,” he assured you, voice thick with emotion, “I promise I’ll be so much better. I’ll try to give you everything you deserve.” 

He pulls away and looks at you, drinking in your face, before pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to your lips. When you reciprocate, he kisses you harder, with more passion, holding you as if he can’t let you go. “Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips, and you feel the pain and anger and worry seep out of him.

It was going to be okay. a/n: i’m not really sure about this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed! sorry for the major angst, lmao also tiny reminder my requests are open even tho i kinda suck at them

#flangst #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #suna angst #suna rintaro imagine #suna x y/n #atsumu miya #suna rintarou #angst #fluff #hurt to comfort

[imagininglotsofthings]

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mystery Fever (Extended)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem reader

Word Count: 1,715

Summary:

 I extended this from last night. 

 Okay, this blog is anonymous, but I wanted to write this. I have this ultra-rare condition called Nephropathic Cystinosis, and it is discussed in this one-shot. Not in great detail, but it is. And Cystinosis Fever is a thing that has happened to me. It’s possible I’ll continue with this sort of thing....Let me know if you want more. For the moment it’s a reader insert, but may turn into something else. 

*******************************************************************************************

Y/N sat at the kitchen table in the Avengers compound, in the shared kitchen and she didn’t feel quite right. She got up to fill her water when Bucky walked in.

He smiled upon seeing her. “Hey, doll.” His grin widened as he walked over to her and curled a hand around her waist, placing a chaste kiss to her lips, which he immediately noticed were chapped. And her skin felt too warm under his touch, the body heat radiating off of her was more than was usual for her. He pulled back slightly and pressed his lips to her forehead, letting them linger there much longer than necessary. She knew exactly what he was doing but didn’t say anything, she knew he was trying to hide it under the guise of a forehead kiss.

Then he frowned and dropped all pretense, pressing his flesh hand to her forehead. His frown deepened. “Doll, you’re warm. Really warm.” He moved his hand from her head to her cheek and she leaned into his touch, humming slightly at how good it felt against her overheated skin. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

She looked up at her boyfriend, bleary eyed, and smiled softly. They had only officially been an item for a couple of weeks. Before that, they had been going out about a month, and two weeks ago, Bucky had asked her to be his girl. He was protective before that, but after, it was like some sort of primal need of his that he couldn’t control. The need to protect her, take care of her, and keep her safe always there. And the fact that his girlfriend had an ultra-rare and potentially dangerous disease just made the urge even stronger. Bucky knew that Y/N had Nephropathic Cystinosis. A lysosomal storage disease. A genetic, metabolic condition that caused fifteen secondary conditions in Y/N’s case. There were only a few others in the compound that knew. Tony, Pepper, and Steve. Bucky looked almost ashamed when he didn’t know what it was, but she assured Bucky most doctors didn’t even know. About 2,500 people in the world had it. Then she went on to explain it to him. After that, he was determined to learn all he could about it, how it affected her, to go to her doctor’s appointments with her (when he could and when the next one came up), you name it. She realized this was something she’d never really discussed with him before, because well, it hadn’t come up yet. And this hadn’t happened to her in a quite a while.

“I think…” she mumbled, and Bucky waited for her to continue. “We used to call it Cystinosis fever when I was younger.”

His heart did a little lurch. Cystinosis fever? There was a specific fever his girl could get with this condition? “What’s that?” he mumbled.

“It’s an unexplainable, sudden onset fever. It can last a couple hours or a couple days, never really sure.”

He nodded slowly. “What else happens, other than the fever?”

“Depends. It’s different every time. Headache, nausea, cough, exhaustion, dizziness…” she trailed off and leant her head against his chest and gripped his forearms. He though she was feeling some dizziness now. He rubbed her back and then sat her down in the nearest chair.

“I’m gonna take your temperature.”

“Bucky, I can take my own-“ but he’d already walked off to get the thermometer from her room. He was back in a flash and knelt down in front of her.

“Open up,” he said and she obediently opened her mouth so he could place the thermometer beneath her tongue. A minute or so later it beeped and he removed it, looking down at the numbers. “102.2,” he mumbled, glancing up at her. “Alright, come on.” He hoisted her into his arms. “I’ll take care of you. Let’s get you to bed.”

Tony walked by at that moment and smirked, as usual his mind in the gutter. “Feeling frisky, Barnes?”

“Shut up, Tony,” he grumbled, his face going slightly pink. Bucky and Y/N hadn’t even been intimate like that yet, and he couldn’t help the flush on his cheeks, nor could his girlfriend. “Y/N’s not feeling well.”

Tony’s features softened. “What’s up, kid?”

“Little fever, I’ll be fine.”

“Well sure, with the bionic man to take care of you, those germs better run if they know what’s good for them.”

Even Bucky couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you hand me that bottle of water?”

“Sure.” He handed Y/N the bottle and she held it carefully.

“Need any help, Barnes?”

There was hint of a glare in Bucky’s eyes as he looked back at him. “I can handle this, Stark, thanks.”

Extended ‘Ending’

Bucky deposited Y/N gently onto the bed, and took the bottle of water from her, setting it on the nightstand. She had been dozing and looked around. “This is your room,” she mumbled, though she curled up on the bed as Bucky pulled his sheets over her and tucked them in around her. 

“I know,” he said, another light blush dusting his cheeks. “It was the closest to the kitchen.” 

“Thank you,” she said, a yawn parting her lips. 

“Sure.” He smoothed her hair back. “What else do you need?” 

“Nothing, I just...” she paused, and Bucky leaned forward a bit, but Y/N threw the covers off and Bucky moved out of the way she ran to his en suite bathroom. He followed and saw her bent over the toilet, vomiting up the little that was in her stomach. He walked up behind her and crouched down, gathering her hair in his hand to keep it out of her face, rubbing her back. It took several more minutes before she stopped and stood up, wiping at her eyes with her right hand. Unfortunately, since learning about her medical condition, and being trusted enough by her to let him see these parts of her life, he’d seen her throw up several times. And every time, her eyes would tear like crazy.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, still rubbing her back. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, walking over to his sink and splashing cold water on her face, then grabbing a cup and rinsing her mouth. The sad thing was, she meant it. To her, this wasn’t a big deal. She got sick like this (threw up) several times a week. She told him that for years there she threw up every single day. To Bucky, though, it was. To see his girl bent over the toilet, throwing up the little contents that was usually in her stomach. It was often nearly a fight to get her to eat, this condition affected her appetite, too. 

“Right,” Bucky mumbled, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it, then ringing it out. “Come on, doll, lay back down.”

She did as he said and laid back down in his bed, and he again pulled the sheets over her, then knelt down in front of her and dabbed her face, forehead and neck with the wet cloth. This was something that he learned made her feel better, even when she claimed she was fine. As she had a tendency to do, often to Bucky’s dismay, She hummed and closed her eyes and he placed the cloth down. “It’s right next to you if you need it.” She nodded, “What else do you need?”

“Where’s my water?” she mumbled, opening her eyes. 

“I’ve got it.” He grabbed the bottle and opened it. She smiled some and shook her head gently as he held it to her lips. “Bucky I can..” He shrugged and she rolled her eyes playfully, then took a big gulp and then another. This was something else Bucky had learned. For her, Cystinosis caused chronic dehydration. Which meant she was always, always thirsty. She took another big gulp. 

“Doll, stop,” he said softly, gently pulling the bottle away from her mouth, a trickle of water falling down her chin. She went to wipe it away but Bucky beat her to it. “You’ll make yourself sick again.” 

She huffed out an irritated sigh, but didn’t argue. ”Alright, it’s right here. Don’t make yourself sick, alright?”

She nodded. 

“Okay, what else do you need?” 

She nibbled her bottom lip. 

“What is it?”

“Can you stay with me?”

Bucky was confused. “Of course, that’s what I was going to-”

“No, I mean, in here.” She gestured to the bed. “I just...” she hesitated, suddenly shy. “I want to...cuddle. Want you to hold me. That would make me feel better.” 

Bucky smiled, his whole being feeling warm and his heart swelling with affection and....was it love? The word scared him, but he didn’t overthink it or even mention it out loud, he didn’t want to scare Y/N off, not with saying that so soon.

“Sure, babydoll, of course.” She smiled up at him, her cheeks a light pink. 

“I’ll make you something to eat later.”

Her nose wrinkled.

“Later,” he repeated with a grin, and she nodded. “I’ll make the soup my mom used to make when me or Steve were sick. Mostly Steve.” She gazed up at him with a smile, her eyes full of affection, as well.

“I love to cook,” she muttered, turning her face into the pillow.

“I know, doll, but not today, okay?”

She sighed. “Alright. Overprotective,” she muttered, but he could hear the smirk in her voice. He was, he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“For you, yeah.”

He took off his shoes and his long sleeve shirt (there was a shirt underneath it) , but left everything else on. He wasn’t sure they were quite there yet. Then he moved to the other side of the bed, hesitated a moment, and lifted his covers, crawling in behind her. His arm draped over her waist and his other hand went to her hair, scratching lightly and soothingly at her scalp until she fell asleep in his arms. And though he didn’t want his girl to feel sick, he loved holding her like this, and hoped there would be many more chances in the future to do just that. He kissed her top of her head, but stayed up to watch over her. His girl, his little warrior. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader sick #bucky barnes x reader rare disease #avengers fanfiction #tony stark x reader platonic #bucky barnes x reader fever

[himbowelsh]

Drunk BOB guys??? Who are the softie hug-loving cuddlers and who are the loud and obnoxious ones? The ones who break out of their shell when intoxicated? The unusually quiet ones? The ones who throw it tf back when Usher comes on? I'd love to hear some thots

oooooh my god okay okay, here are the biggest thots

Richard Winters:  Umm, alcohol whom? Has never been drunk in his life and doesn’t intend to start now. He gets all the buzz he needs off the exhilaration of a brisk jog, or a cool glass of water.

Lewis Nixon: The Literal Alcoholic. Thinks he’s more fun when he’s drunk than when he’s sober; is actually not a very fun drunk. Is even worse when he’s sobering up! At this point, he has to have some liquor in his system 99% of the time, otherwise his body feels like it’s out to destroy itself. (Alcoholism is a disease, boys and girls.) Nix buzzed is Nix at peak performance; he’s friendly, efficient, and capable. Nix drunk is a slowly spiralling plane crash. He usually passes out before he hits the ground, but god forbid he gets there, because...  it’s messy. He can occasionally be a messy, emotional, overdramatic drunk, but only when he’s really overdone it.

Carwood Lipton: The Respectable Drunk. A very calm, kind of sleepy drunk. Doesn’t get drunk often, even though he holds his liquor well, because he doesn’t prefer it  ---   when he’s had a few, he prefers to just watch the people around him, smiling and only half paying attention. His mind tends to wander when he’s drunk. Drunk Lip does have one fatal weakness:  if he’s out with his partner, and his partner shows even the slightest bit of encouragement, Lip will get riled up very quickly. He goes from calm drunk to horny drunk in a very short time; will eagerly press his partner up against the wall if given the chance. (Drunk Lip is way more inclined to PDA.)

Ron Speirs: The Soft Drunk. Literally, he’s such a tender drunk; he has absolutely no balance, and is a little confused, but he’s sweet, okay? Ron is far more expressive when he’s drunk; he gets touchier, ramblier, kinder. Drunk Ron has faith in humanity where Sober Ron gave up long ago. He’s a really relaxed drunk, unlikely to go off and do anything wild, but he wants to be around other people  ---  around his friends. Ron never has a good time when he drinks alone. (Plus, he’s got a reputation to uphold, and only certain people are allowed to see him with his guards down.)

Harry Welsh: The Bionic Drunk. Nothing can injure him; nothing can kill him. Many things have tried. Harry has done so much dumb shit when intoxicated, things that would have wounded him in a heartbeat if he was sober, and has never gotten a scratch to show for it. He’s a very fun drunk  ---  he laughs a lot, is very affectionate, and super pleasant to be around  ---  but common sense and self-preservation goes out the window. Look out, because he might too, if someone dared him.

Eugene Roe: The Changeling Drunk. Who is this man and what did he do with Doc Roe? Drunk Gene is...  an experience, alright? His inhibitions are gone. Suddenly, his personality has been turned up to eleven; he’s extroverted, he’s exciting, he laughs loudly and jokes around...  he’s dancing on top of the bar, holy shit. Is a very fun time, but you have to keep an eye on him, because he sometimes goes off and does something insane, a-la-Sober-Speirs. Drunk Gene fears nothing, including himself.

Joe Toye: The Depressed Drunk. Zoinks, Scoob. Drunk Joe is actually willing to talk about his emotions  ---  and maybe he shouldn’t, because he’s got some sad stuff going on there, man. Drinking is supposed to numb your worries, but Joe often finds the opposite is the case; his burdens somehow get heavier, harder to ignore, and if he’s allowed to slip into them he’ll end up dwelling in them for the rest of the night. So long as he’s around buddies who are actively keeping his spirits up, he’s a decent drunk guy to have around. If neglected, however, Drunk Joe may shed a few tears into his Guinness.

George Luz: The Showman Drunk. His jokes and impressions get way sloppier, but somehow he’s twice as hilarious, so he can get away with it. Drunk George is way more animated, with a seemingly endless supply of energy; he teases everybody, he laughs the loudest in the room, and he really seems like he’s just come out to have a good time. The kind of buddy you want to get drunk with.  (Be warned: comes with a rarely activated Depressed Drunk mode, when he shuts off and wants to be left the hell alone. Maybe his battery runs out after a while or something. During this time, George is feeling a lot of things very strongly; this condition is best treated with a cozy blanket and glass of water. Very rare, but once you’ve seen him in this state, you can never unsee it.)

Bill Guarnere: The Loud Drunk. Is there a difference between sober Bill and drunk Bill? Debateable. Drunk Bill is just Bill turned up to eleven. He doesn’t actually get drunk a lot  ---  somehow he ends up the designated driver, and minds less than he should  ---  but social drinking usually leads to Bill shouting over a crowded bar. He’s usually up for a good time, he just has no volume control. (Also, the accent. It thickens. Can someone translate, please? Is he speaking English? What the hell is he saying?)

Babe Heffron: The Weird Drunk. Drunk Babe will break it down on the dance floor (should he? maybe not) and do his president rooster impression in public, but he’s equally likely to just...  confuse everybody else. He’s got a lot of thoughts. A lot of feelings. Some of them are about the meaning of life, some of them are about the best kind of sandwich bread, some of them are about whether the Loch Ness Monster has a favorite type of bird.  He talks so much when he’s drunk, and will ramble anyone’s ear off about any of these topics. Escape while you can.

Joseph Liebgott: The Volatile Drunk. Really a mixed bag; you never know what you’re going to get from him. Sometimes, Joe can be a very fun drunk, the life of the party, willing to do anything anybody dares him to. That’s if he’s drinking in a good mood. If he starts drinking in a sour mood, it’ll only get worse from there. Honestly, he can be a mean drunk. He lashes out at people, gets angry, sometimes starts crying...  it’s not great. You have to keep tabs on him while he’s drinking, because if his mood looks like it’s dipping, he should not be allowed any more alcohol.

David Kenyon Webster: The Emotional Drunk. He’s just...  got a lot of feelings! And he really wants to talk about them! Becomes extremely talkative while drunk; this is not always a good thing, because he’s pronouncedly less eloquent. Drunk Web is very passionate about politics...  and the environment... and marine biology...  and the commercialization of public holidays. He has something to say about most things. Sometimes he’s just muttering to himself, and no one can keep up with what he’s saying. Makes so many notes, either in his phone or scribbling them down on napkins, because he’s “going to need to remember this”, but they’re all illegible come morning. Feels things very strongly. Might cry.

Johnny Martin: The Feral Drunk. Wrangling Johnny when he’s had a few too many is an experience. Holy shit, this man knows no fear. Drunk Johnny has 5x less patience for everyone’s bullshit, and wants them to know it. The amount of bar fights this man has gotten into... the best part is, he’s never lost. (Yeah, because he has Bull right there to make sure his drunk friend doesn’t get himself killed.)

Frank Perconte: The Confused Drunk. Only kind of knows where he is. Complains a lot; puts things down, misplaces them, and blames someone else for taking them. Drunk Perco has a ‘Real Housewives at Brunch’ mode, only activated when someone gives him tequila; he will scream and throw drinks. Otherwise he’s just kind of tiresome and needs someone to make sure he makes it home okay.

Floyd Talbert: The Mom Drunk. Yes, he did just do four shots of gin, but he’s still going to make sure everyone else is drinking water and not wandering off with anyone creepy. Drunk Floyd’s got an eye on everyone; he’s kind of the mama hen wrangling all her chicks, making sure they don’t stray far. He parties like a frat boy, but will wrangle everyone like a girl scout mother. 

Shifty Powers: The Missing Drunk. What the hell? What happened, where did he go? He was sitting right there a second ago  ---   when he’s drunk, Shifty tends to wander. He just likes the quiet. His friends will always find him in bizarre places, after a few minutes of panicked searching. Once, he was laying on top of a car; once he was on the club’s roof. He’s fine, he knows where he is, he’s just thinking about stuff.

Donald Malarkey: The Absurdly Lucky Drunk. He’s got some Irish faeries looking out for him or something, because Drunk Don is literally living his best life. If he gambles, he’s going to win. If he misplaces his wallet, he’s going to find it with an extra $30 inside. If he trips, he’s going to land in an attractive person’s lap. Everyone wants to be in proximity to Drunk Don, not only because he’s a pretty good  (if emotional)  time, but because some of his luck might rub off.

Skip Muck: The Giggly Drunk. What’s so funny? No one knows. Skip might not even know, but he’s going to laugh anyways, because everything is hilarious. He somehow tells even better jokes when drunk, but he laughs at them himself, so that measures it out. He effortlessly makes himself the life of the party; Skip will get up and karaoke with the band, cheer all his friends on in their dumb shit, drink way more than he reasonably should...  going out drinking with Skip is always a great time.

Herbert Sobel: The Alarmingly Fun Drunk. No, I’m not going to elaborate. Fill in the mental images yourself.

#winters and i say teetotaler rights #headcanons #band of brothers #hbo war

[disenchantedideas]

One-sentence writing prompts 1-100

1: "Come on, it's only one time."

2: "Why are you so scared?"

3: "Stop squirming!"

4: "Who knew kidnapping was this hard?"

5: "Can we just leave him here?"

6: "What do you mean you're not?"

7: "So that isn't even your real name?"

8: "Where did the extra kid come from?!"

9: "If I don't get coffee in the next half hour, I'm killing someone."

10: "Just put the knife down."

11: "Please don't do it!"

12: "You made the cinnamon roll cry!"

13: "How much bleach do you think it would take to kill me?"

14: "Will you marry me?"

15: "Which gender would you like to put on the birth certificate?"

16: "Whose idea was this?"

17: "I want to go home."

18: "When's Daddy coming home, Mommy?"

19: "How did you do that?"

20: "Mom, I'm pregnant... With quadruplets."

21: "How did you even get in here?"

22: "Go get the chainsaw."

23: "How is he such a good parent?"

24: "Take your pills, sweetie."

25: "I'm stuck!"

26: "Well, don't just sit there laughing about it!"

27: "She didn't make it."

28: "How does it feel, being dead?"

29: "Stop transmitting everything!"

30: "Shut up and help me!"

31: "Welcome to the last day of your life."

32: "Say hello, dear."

33: "You don't want to see what I'm going to do next."

34: "Stop dying!"

35: "Your life is simply now important than mine."

36: "It's a rare disease..."

36: "I'm not surprised you've heard of it."

37: "It was only a ruptured heart."

38: "Days left to live: 1"

39: "I have no clue what you're saying but I'll support you anyway!"

40: "Why does my toddler act more mature than my husband?"

41: "I'm afraid they didn't make it..."

42: "Why don't you just break it?"

43: "It was another panic attack..."

44: "Act your age!"

45: "There is no such thing!"

46: "I killed someone last night..."

47: "Do you need my help?"

48: "I need the chemical formula of Dawn dish soap, now."

49: "Why can't I get even this one thing right?"

50: "There's no way that'll fit."

51: "Do you have somewhere to hide the body?"

52: "Can't you just sit like a normal person for once?"

53: "She hasn't spoken in years."

54: "How did you even fit in there?"

55: "Cabinets are not appropriate sleeping places."

56: "Stop being so naïve."

57: "I promise you, mortal."

58: "Make it stop!"

59: "Can you stop time for a while?"

60: "Could you please stay out of my mind?"

61: "What are you reading?"

62: "Is it just me, or does that shadow look a bit too much like a woman?"

63: I have the worst luck of anyone in the universe."

64: "They can hear you."

65: "Don't get too excited."

66: "I wish to acquaint your facial features with an object commonly used for construction purposes."

67: "He's stuck in the washing machine!"

68: "I wish I could have been like you."

69: "Shut up and kiss me already."

70: "Why do you have two legs?"

71: "There is an answer to every question but this one."

72: "I can make all of your wishes come true-for a price, of course."

73: "I'm the one keeping you from making a big mistake."

74: "I have never seen this color in my entire life."

75: "I'll stop wearing black and purple when they make better versions of them."

76: "Why do I need one?"

77: "Take your headphones off."

78: "Social distancing will be required for everyone for the next century-"

79: "I've been good!"

80: "Who did you kill this time?"

81: "I am not a robot!"

82: "Keep your tail hidden!"

83: "What's in it?"

84: "Five."

85: "It killed almost a thousand people!"

86: "You're just a human."

87: " I used to be just like you."

88: "I didn't hear anything."

89: "Why is there a Z here?"

90: "How is it that you are always the one to get in trouble?"

91: "I'm acting just like a girl."

92: "If lesbians are people who like girls and gay people are people who like boys, does that mean that everyone's either gay or lesbian?"

93: "We won't make it!"

94: "Why won't it stop moving?"

95: "Claim this yourself and no one else will take it."

96: "What do you mean you can't find them?"

97: "Eat cookies."

98: "I wish to impart upon the land my-"

99: "I know you love it when I cry..."

100: "Just go away and let me kill myself in peace!"

#prompts #writing

[qqueenofhades]

hello! i was wondering if i could give you a garcy prompt of the soul mates getting each other’s scars? so like whenever one gets an injury it shows up as a scar on the others skin, just cause i think that troupe is practically begging to be applied to our favorite human disaster and the tiny ball of fury that loves him. thank you!! 🤗

The first time she gets a scar that she does not understand, a scar that comes from nowhere, Lucy Preston is five years old.

There’s a brief, bright pain, a line traced down her forearm that looks like some kind of surgery weal – maybe a broken bone, a jump off a swing or a fall off a bike that required a visit to the ER, but obviously, it isn’t hers. She’s confused and upset and she runs to her mother in tears, convinced that it must be some rare disease, and Carol tells her that their family has (among others) a special gift. They have a soulmate out there, a singular person that they’re destined for, and until they meet, any wounds that the one sustains will appear on the other, in mirror image. It’s something to celebrate. It’s something to await. It goes without saying, apparently, that this is the way of the world, its warp and weft, and questioning it would be both pointless and unthinkable.

Lucy is a little older – eight – when the scars start appearing in earnest. Some of them stay permanently, some of them don’t, but she stares at her leg and the puckered weal of skin that looks like a bullet hole, and wonders what on earth her soulmate can be doing that they’re being shot at. She gets very worried that he – is it a man? Does she get a choice? – is caught in some terrible conflict. It’s 1991, and the TV says there’s a war in a place called Yugoslavia, that all the Balkans are suffering post-Soviet independence struggles. It says other things too, but for some reason, Lucy keeps coming back to that. Carol assures her, however, that it’s definitely not that. Lucy’s twelve when she hears about their particular heritage, and the place where her soulmate will come from, the lineage, the uber-secret, uber-elite group of like-minded families. Rittenhouse.

Lucy can’t help but wonder if her own injuries will appear on the other person in turn. She suffers pangs of guilt when she falls down the stairs, bangs her chin, and gets a faint white scar – at the rate other marks are appearing on her, her soulmate does not need the help. She apologizes profusely when she stubs her toe or shuts her fingers in the car door; she’s not the world’s most coordinated person, her injuries tend to the trivial and easily avoidable. Guilt washes over her in waves. She is already working day and night, trying to get the best grades, to get into Stanford, to make her mother proud, to learn more about this organization called Rittenhouse, to make everyone happy. She needs to take good care of herself for her soulmate’s sake, Carol says. They’ll be meeting soon, they have to be. The rest of her life follows on from there.

(This doesn’t seem fair, Lucy thinks, in her darkest, frazzled, most anxious moments, worked to the bone and then some. She shouldn’t be preserved like a cow at market for someone else’s benefit – she definitely isn’t sure that she wants it to be a man – she doesn’t – she doesn’t want it – )

She has a breakdown, when she’s twenty-seven and just finishing her PhD. This isn’t unusual, but she’s tired of the marks appearing. Her soulmate is either an idiot, involved in all kinds of dangerous work, or both, and far from the naive, idealistic belief that she owes it to them to remain pure as the driven snow, Lucy starts to hate this unknown person whose nonsense ends up etched on her skin. Sometimes it’s mixed with pity. Mostly she just wants it to stop.

Lucy is thirty. She meets Noah Bergman. He doesn’t have any of the marks. He is normal and cute and funny and has a real job, and Lucy tries her best, her best to make it work, because she would rather it be him than this walking human disaster she’s been saddled with. But it just doesn’t end up working out. Then her mom gets cancer and it feels like she should make it up, because Carol’s always been very fond of Noah, but then something far greater comes along, in the form of some madman who is threatening everything Rittenhouse has ever worked for. Insane as it is – but perhaps no more insane than her entire body written with a violent history that was never hers, a history she has never wanted – the only thing to stop him, apparently, is to take up professional time-traveling.

————–

To say the least, Lucy does not get off on the right foot with Garcia Flynn.

He’s trying to blow up something important whenever she sees him, for a start, and threatening Wyatt and Rufus, and insists that Rittenhouse is – far from the benevolent organization Lucy has always known it as – in fact actively evil. Lucy doesn’t want to believe it, even as complicated and estranged as her relationship has become, how her sanity has been driven to the breaking point. Flynn, with the tact of a blowtorch, insists. Once or twice, Lucy finds herself having the thought – half reassuring, half oddly disappointing – that at least he’s definitely not her soulmate. They argue too much, for one thing. But she… she’s not afraid of him. Maybe she should be. But he – this tall, insane, violent headcase bent on burning everything down – is the first person she’s never been afraid of, never once tried to please, and he seems oddly delighted with her anyway. They’re enemies, but they’re… something different too.

It’s months, it’s missions, it’s hiding in a bunker, it’s something with Wyatt and then something very decidedly not with Wyatt, it’s a bottle of vodka and a decision that she’s not sitting alone after their nice time in 1936, and it’s a late-night visit to Flynn’s room. It’s repeated visits after that, and it’s growing closer and closer, and then it’s –

“Oh my God,” Lucy says, as she stares at his shoulder, at the fading mark that exactly matches the one on hers. Flynn’s taken some heavy weather in 1961 Berlin and she’s patching him up. “Where did you get that?”

Flynn glances at her, then away, in that deliberately obtuse way of his. At last he says only, “Kosovo. 1999.”

(Lucy got that mark in 1999.)

She ignores it. They don’t talk about it. Not until it’s a night and it’s need and it’s her crawling into his bed for something else, and kisses and touches and her mouth ghosting across the fine white line on the bottom of his chin that could be from anything. She’s relieved when he tells her that he got it in a childhood mishap when he was three, since that means it can’t be from her stair fall. She didn’t do this to him. It can’t be. He isn’t her soulmate.

…. He isn’t her soulmate.

(It’s fine, Lucy tells herself. It’s fine, she never was sure she wanted it anyway, the idea of being destined for only one person and especially a man is deeply problematic and her inner feminist is now vindicated.)

(It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, she can keep coming to him anyway, he never stops her and he never refuses her and he never seems to have heard of such an odd thing anyway. Even though he has a scar on his leg where he was shot at the age of sixteen, as a tall gawky angry boy who lied that he was older, joined the Croatian army, and it’s right where Lucy’s eight-year-old scar still lies.)

The thing is, though. Flynn knows a lot about her. A lot, and while part of it may be from the journal, there’s other stuff that Lucy has no idea how he knows. He seems to understand exactly her fears, her flaws, her secret shames, the things she never feels good enough for, the crushing weight of her guilt and her unresolved obligations to her mother, and what happened in Chinatown. At last, as they’re lying in each other’s arms one night, and he’s just done that too-precise intuition again, Lucy blurts out, “How did you – how did you know?”

Flynn frowns, as if he’s never really thought about this. “I just do,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as if she’s asked him why he stands upright on his feet instead of his hands, or breathes air instead of water, or how he knows his own name. “I’ve always known.”

Lucy stares at him, as a strange and shy and desperately wanted idea begins to take shape in her head. If she was marked with his physical scars – she understands now, he is in fact very much an idiot, but he’s lived a soldier’s life for decades, he does not know how to exist without the war – but he was marked with her mental ones. If he just knows how she’s felt, her private battles, her crushing guilt, her endless struggles. If that’s what it means – if that is in fact what they are, after all this time, and all the running from it –

She doesn’t know how she feels. She doesn’t know how he would. And yet. The thought no longer frightens her, or repels her, or angers her, not at all. It makes all the sense in the world. It feels like coming home.

(Lucy kisses Flynn’s scars, runs her mouth over them, and he holds her tight and looks at her with eyes that melt with devotion, that brim, that flow, that burst, and for tonight, at least, that is how the two of them love each other.)

#garcy #garcy ff #lucy x flynn #anonymous #ask

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

Surprise Me

I went through an emotional roller coaster and I have this story all planned out! This chapter took me 3 (almost 4) days!!! I am so excited to share this with you guys and i hope you love it as much as I do. 

Chapter 1    

 Chapter 2 = May 17th

Chapter 3= May 24th

Chapter 4= TBD

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None, but LOTS OF EMOTIONS and fluffy lowkey flirting

Paring: Bucky x Female Bookstore reader

Summary: Bucky finally decided to go out to the city. ( I really want to say more but this story will most likely make you a wreck and I don’t want to spoil it). All I can say is, be warned, enjoy it, laugh, smile, cry, and squeal if you must because you have just signed yourself to the RMS- I’m gonna fucking die if you don’t update this shit- ship. 

Go out in the city, said Sam.

 It would be fun! Sam said. 

Bucky couldn’t even keep a straight face and frowned. Well I sure as hell don’t see any fun, Sam. He said to himself as if he was conversing with the man in his head. 

New York was still New York. The city. The taxis, the food stands, some things were still the same. Others, not so much. 

I really have been missing out a lot, haven’t I? He asked himself as he looked at a big billboard that mentioned something about love and car insurance. Are they really comparing love to that? He scoffed in disbelief. He knew they had to be joking, right? Or is love now just different? He had never really fallen in love before but he could imagine how it would feel like. Sure, he would be interested in a girl; like Dolores Huerta, but he could never say what it felt like to be in love.

 Bucky shook his head and looked at the floor. 

Putting both hands on his waist, he shook his head and looked around, “I gotta get outta here. Somewhere where it doesn’t feel packed.” and that’s what he did.

 After passing a few blocks that mostly consisted of apartments, and occasional small businesses, he stopped in front of one particularly odd place. He couldn’t recall seeing it before, but something about this business screamed old and new, and he liked it. 

To his surprise, the building was located on a corner- clean, but it held a rustic atmosphere. The doors were a dark shiny red and the squared windows were clean and their frames were as dark as a polished shoe. It read, “Antilly’s Books”. 

Books, he thought. How long had it been since he had read a good book? Too long. The bookstore seemed to be secluded from the city. It didn’t even feel like New York just by looking at the little bookstore. There were rarely any people in there and he felt somewhat relieved. He needed  something like this. 

Stepping in was also a relief. As he opened the door, a little bell rung, announcing his presence. He was a bit startled, but saw no one in sight except for a girl. The girl seemed to be too focused to even notice his presence as she had her body slightly crouched, eye leveled to the books, going through each book with her index finger as she muttered her way through. Bucky couldn’t help but stare in awe. The way her hair was tied back into a ponytail and the way she would push her glasses up the bridge of her nose to keep them from slipping seemed like such a simple act in a simple life. He wanted to be like her. She would probably be studying by the looks of her age; something in the arts-maybe even be in a relationship. She probably met her boyfriend in a shop like this, he scoffed to himself and smiled. He would probably like the same things as her, they would eventually marry, travel the world if they’re interested, and have kids. She looks like she could have 2-3 kids and maybe even a- wait what am I thinking? He scolded himself shaking his head. I’m already invested in a strangers life and they don’t even know- THEY’RE LOOKING AT ME RIGHT NOW SHIT-

“Oh hi! I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were here for a while, you probably need help looking for something, do you?” she asked as she swiftly approached him. Her ponytail swaying back and forth. She works here, he thought as he drew a sharp breath.

What am I supposed to say? “Uhh yeah. I don’t really know where to start-“

She laughs and beams him a smile. “Well that’s what they all say. Lucky for you, it’s my job to help. Now tell me, how often do you read?”

Well it’s been decades- “just a few months.” He quickly said.

She gave him a look. A look that he had never gotten used to. The one his mom would give him when he’d lie. He hated it and almost felt like confessing.

“Years.” She said affirmatively before nodding her head, “It’s been years. You haven’t read a book in years. But there’s no shame in that. I’m glad you stopped by because we’re gonna get you back on track honey.”

Honey. He thought. Is she calling me that just for me? Or has she called other clients of hers that haven’t read a book in years honey?

“Now, tell me something,” she said as she started leading the way, “do you prefer BIG chunks of books like 500 page books? Or generally short ones?”

He shook his head and shrugged. “Whatever you want.” He put his hands on his pockets and a small smile played on his lips. “Surprise me.”

She turned to him, already looking at a few bookshelves and raised a surprised eyebrow at him, “Surprise you? I’m not going to surprise you. I’m going to blow your mind and I just know how.” She said the last part challengingly as if this were a dare.

“Follow me,” she said as he followed. Her back now facing him, “Oh I bet, you’re going to love this. You’re going to love it so much, you’ll even come back again just to ask me for another recommendation! The look on your face! Ha!” She said as she shot her hands up, walking through the isles like a mad scientist that had just found a cure to a disease.

“That is, if  I like it.” 

“Oh, you will. I’m certain of it.”

Bucky said no more and decided to keep his mouth shut. He just held a smile to himself and continued to follow the woman in the bookstore. From what it seemed, it looked like they were the only ones in the store. Whatever Sam intended, he didn’t know if he would consider this as fun but it was definitely something.

“Have you found it?” He asked after the minute she stopped at an isle, hands behind his back like a gentleman.

She scanned the shelves like earlier, crouched and index finger roaming each and every one of the books. She finally stopped at one and quickly pulled it out. “Aha! Okay! I found it! Close your eyes.” She instructed.

“What? Close my eyes? What am I- t-ten to you?” He asked followed by a loud shhhhh from her. 

“Just do as I say, okay?”

“Okay,”

Bucky could feel her pull the book from behind her back and was that a smile he was sensing?

“Since you haven’t read a book in over a couple of years, I thought it’d be a good idea to stick to something...classic.”

Classic  he repeated. Classic sounds good.

“I hope this is to your liking. You seem like you would but go ahead, open your eyes.”

When he opened his eyes, he instantly saw a copy of “The Beautiful and Damned.” one of his favorites. He actually had the opportunity to read the book before there was even a war to go to.

It was quite simple actually, there was a bookstore near where he lived. His mother would work here and there to make ends meet and they had just enough to go to school and with the money he’d get for lunch, he’d take portions of that money and save enough to buy a book or two. One day, when he was 16, he had saved what seemed to be enough so he took his money to go to the bookstore. There, he noticed that it wouldn’t be possible for him to buy a book until another week, maybe two.

f  l  a  s  h  b  a  c  k: 

“What seems to be the problem, young man?” A man that seemed to be the owner asked.

“Nothin’ sir.”

“Oh c’mon boy. You know that’s a lie. Really, what’s on your head?”

Biting his lip hesitantly, he answers, “it’s just that...I don’t have enough money to buy a book.”

He looks over to the man who nods and looks away in thought.

“I see. Why don’t you pick a book you like?” 

Didn’t he hear me? I told him I didn’t have enough money.

“But sir-“

“Yes I heard you. I’m not that old you know,” he joked. “Pick out a book you like, then come see me at the front desk. We’ll sort something out young man.”

He nodded and thanked him.

One thing that he never seemed to forget was his respect for the elderly. His mother taught him that (along with respecting women). It was natural of him to always be respectful towards elders. A habit of his.

After a few minutes of not finding anything, the man approached him again

“I’ve seen you have been having trouble picking a book. Other boys your age would just stick to putting a Huxley cover over a gentleman's magazine and sneak them through thinking an old man like me wouldn’t notice.” He said letting out a small laugh at the end.

“You seem like you need something new, refreshing. You need change, boy. And I know just how to help.” He said before speaking up shortly,

“Follow me.”

It seemed just right. Behind the counter, the man pulled out a book that seemed to be new. The man had the book in his hands and waved it to him.

“The Beautiful and Damned?” 

The man nodded, “I know, I know. It doesn’t have a title necessarily appealing to ‘men’ but it’s brand new. Not one single other store has a copy and the authors friend actually gave it to me. Met the author actually. A nice fella he is. Give it a read, see if you like it. I would’ve liked to have something like that when I was your age so think of it as a gift, alright boy?”

Bucky’s eyes widened at the amount of information the man had given him, “Y-yes sir.” He stutters at a loss for words, “Thank you. I-I don’t know how to thank you.”

The man smiled at him faintly and waved his hand down wards, “Please, there’s no need for that but you can start by calling me by my name. I’m Stuart Lieber.”

E N D  of  f l a s h b a c k : 

“Do you like it?” She had asked.

“Well Darlin’, I haven’t even read it yet.” He lied. “What made you want to give me this?”

“You looked like you needed something, different. You seem like you need something new, refreshing. You need change.” Her words echoed in his mind.

She seemed to struggle with her words before speaking up. “I know it probably doesn’t look as appealing as it would. Most men don’t read any of Fitzgerald’s works and stick to things more…”

“...more…?”

She sighed in defeat. “Explicit.” She said disappointingly. “It’s a shame really, not many people have such appreciation for literature as they did in the 20’s or 40’s.” a hint of sadness lingered around her voice.

She spoke up and startled a small laugh in hopes to break the awkward silence, “Kinda makes you wish you were born in another era, right? But that’s enough of me talking.” She said before shaking her head with a smile in attempt to try to forget what she just said.

There was so much going inside Bucky’s mind. Lots of thinking. Maybe this was the first time in years he’s been thinking too much.

Little did he know, he didn’t say anything-causing the woman in front of him to start mentally panicking. 

Oh God, she thinks, This is what happens when you’re too nice you start to freak them out. Look at him, he’s thinking, contemplating on whether he should leave and how he’s gonna do it without ‘hurting me’. 

“I see what you mean,” Bucky said softly after a moment of thinking, “Things aren’t the same here as they were back then. People change, life changes. It’s not like we can really go back to before but we always have-“

“-little reminders?”

Bucky presses his lips into a straight line trying not to smile but the woman in front of him notices a small smile, “Yeah,” he says, “little reminders.”

She nods and smiles as well feeling like she just discovered something, “Okay,” she smiles, “In how much time do you think you can finish that book?”

Bucky feels a boyish smile creep up but is quick to replace it with a smirk, feeling his older self shine.

 He smirks, and holds the book with his right hand, slightly leaning it against him, “How much time?” He asks.

 Before he can even open his lips again, the woman speaks up. “You know what?” She asks as she puts her hand out to stop him, “Surprise me,” 

.

.

.

A/N: IM HONESTLY SO PROUD OF THIS??? Did you guys get the references? (Hint: Stan LEE). 

also, want to be added to a tag list so you know when the next chapter comes up? Message me with the name of the book (I have another series too) so I don’t get confused lol

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian #fanfic #avengers #winter soldier #sam #sam wilson #bookstore #endgame #infinity war #marvel #james #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes

[multisuperfandom]

Wreck me - part one

Warnings (series): mentions of sex, lots of drinking, angst, fluff, friends with benefits, mention of torture, nightmares

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel, jack, chuck

Summary: the reader is Jack's twin sister. No one knew she existed because of how weak she was; she was convinced that she was going to die before she was even born. That was until she met a certain god that was willing to do anything to keep her alive. Years later she and dean get drunk and start a not so orthodox relationship.

A/N: if you like this then go ahead and request more. I will be doing more supernatural fan fiction as well as Riverdale, the 100, and vampire diaries and it’s spin-offs. Please send me a request

Tags: @aspiring-fangirls-world

——————-

Three years ago

“Hey, kids,” a small-ish, awkward man said as he had appeared in my room. Your brother had jumped from his position on your bed to a guarding stance in front of you. You don’t move at all. You had been feeling worse than you had in the past couple of weeks, having absolutely no energy for anything. You knew you were dying, you could feel the life leaving your body. Your brother, however, believed that you would get better, that you would heal and be fine. You didn’t have it in you to tell him that your mom didn’t even know you existed. That you were so weak that soon you would fade from existence as if you were never born in the first place.

“Who are you and how did you get in here?” Your brother demanded, his stance only getting tenser.

“I am here to help,” the man raised his hands, showing the boy that he meant no harm. “I am what many call god but I have many names. You can call me Chuck.”

“How can you help us?” He questioned again. You knew that he was just protecting you but you were growing slightly aggravated.

“Jack,” you chocked out weakly. It didn’t hurt but it was draining to even talk.

“Your sister has a rare disease in which fetuses don’t have a heart.” The man, Chuck answered. You had known what he meant. You and Jack hadn’t been born yet and the house that had been your entire world was just a figment of the two of your imagination. At least until you two were born, or should you say jack was born. “ Your sister needs help or else she will die.”

Jack’s mouth opened to protest but you grabbed his hand. The action forced his eyes to you, finally, he took in your condition. Before he had only saw what he wanted to see but now he saw how sick and weak you truly were. Breathing out slightly, he nodded to you then turned and nodded to the man.

“Please, help her.” As soon as the request left his mouth, the man was before you. Up close he looked more awkward yet kind. Like he meant no harm to even the most annoying fly. His hand went to your forehead and his eyes closed. A warm, comfortable feeling filled you and stayed after chuck pulled his hand away and you opened your eyes.

“I can give you something to help you and it should last for eternity.” You hesitate, wanting to know what his gift was. And it seemed that he recognized your hesitation as he continued,” I will give you my heart.”

“Don’t  you need it?” You questioned quietly. The man shook his head.

“It will be ours, you need it more than I do” you peered over to your brother. The concern and hope in his eyes were what made you nod the second time prompting the god to continue. Once again he closed his eyes as he moved his hand to be a few inches from your chest.

A different feeling spread through your body, one that you couldn’t tell what it was. Once it was gone the man was too. And you knew you were going to be okay.

The problem was you didn’t know if you liked that or not. 

-------

Now

“You okay?” Sam asked you as you entered the bunker. You and the boys had just come back from a particularly bad hunt. This one hurt more than the others you had been on and you expected the memories of the hunt to plague your dreams.

Nightmares had been a frequent occurrence since your birth. The strange way you came into the world didn’t help, neither did the fact that you blamed yourself for your mother’s death, and many other events. They had gotten so bad that you would spend days not sleeping. That was the easy part; your body was programmed to go days without sleep but it was when you had to sleep that was horrible. When your body couldn’t take it anymore and shut down, that hurt the most.

“Yeah I’m fine,” You lied through your teeth. That was something that you had picked up from the Winchesters. Pretending you were okay, drinking away your problems, and completely forgetting until the next morning. Tonight, you knew, was going to be one of those nights. 

“Beers?” Dean asked as he returned from the kitchen with four beers in his hands. He lifted them up for Sam, Jack, and you to see. Sam and you nodded and grabbed the cold, wet bottles as Jack shook his head. 

“I found an intriguing book on the concept of fire and its existence in the library earlier. I would much like to read that right now.” He said before taking off down the hall and into his room to read his book. You shrugged as you took a drink. Jack handled things differently than you. While you took many things personally, he saw things clear and logically. Even though things did effect him, they don’t last very long and when they do, it’s usually really bad. As much as you worried about your twin brother, you knew he was fine. Or as fine as he was going to be. 

The heart that the god gave you changed how you saw the world. In a way you weren’t naive or childish. You looked and acted like an experienced adult. You coped like an adult, you saw situation and tackled them like an adult. In every aspect you were an adult except your actual age, which was two.

“The kid okay?” Dean asked you before taking a swig of your beer.

“Aren’t we all?” It was a simple response but it was the only one you were going to give. You peered down the barrow of your glass, silently thanking it for the emotions it was about to take away. You then took a swig, feeling the cold liquid flow down your throat.

You already felt better.

It wasn’t long before Sam was calling it quits. He wasn’t one for getting drunk off your asses when you felt a little down, not like you and dean. So there you were, you and dean alone much like plenty of nights before. No talking needed. No questions, no doubts. When it was just you two, it was just you two. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Darling?” Dean called in a quiet voice. The one he only uses when he feels he’s done something harmful towards the people he loves, or he about to. You looked up and were met by his green eyes. They captured you as much as they usually do when you look into them. His voice got even quieter as he continued his request, “can I ask for a favor?”

You nodded. “Can you take it away?” You knew what he meant, you had done it before. Go inside his mind and stop the painful memories from being so painful. That’s how you two were so close, and how you knew him so well. Whenever he asked, you entered and took away his pain, end his suffering. But it didn’t last long and he was quickly addicted to the relief of it all.

You didn’t mind doing it. It was your way of helping him, a way of giving his mind peace and clarity. So it didn’t surprise him when you moved to sit in the chair next to him. Nor did it surprise him when you gently grabbed his face and pressed your head against his.

You would never get over the feeling of entering his mind. Or seeing all of his memories, the tragic ones, the heartbreaking ones, and the generally happy ones. You could never forget the look of his face when you were done. The pure expression of relief and relaxation. He was happy, for the time being. And you were happy that you were apart of it.

He smiled when he opened his eyes and looked into yours. It was his way of saying ‘thank you’ without actually saying the words. But you knew and that’s all that mattered. But after a few seconds of him looking at you, his face went from a peaceful expression to one of confusion. You realized that you were still holding onto his face and quickly released it. But instead of him letting you slipping away like he usually does, he grabbed your wrist and held you there, staring at you like he was trying to solve the mystery of life within your eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked slightly tilting his head, something you had only seen castiel do and were shocked to see him repeat the action. He was right though something was wrong, you hadn’t slept in 5 days and you could feel your body shutting down. You were dreading having to sleep and relive your worst nightmares. And you were shocked that he even noticed at all. Often times when you were feeling down or more tired than usual he wouldn’t notice, hardly pay attention.

“Nothing,” you tried to lie but dean wasn’t having it.

“I know that’s bull shit, Y/N. What’s wrong?” Dean repeated, holding your wrist tightly. You knew you couldn’t lie anymore, you’re too tired.

“This hurts, Dean, everything hurts,” you explained. “This life hurts. My life hurts. I’m alone even when I’m with you and the boys. I can’t even find peace in my sleep, D. I just can’t take this anymore, I can’t, Dean”

By now tears were rolling down your cheeks. In response, dean wiped the away and held you close. You took comfort in his arms, finally feeling okay for the first time in your life. You didn’t want to leave and move away from his arms. He just held you tight, needing it just as much as you did.

It was several seconds later when he spoke, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didnt see your pain until now. But now that I do, please let me take it away.”

You were confused by request, not exactly understanding what he meant. He turned you to face him. His face was a mere inch away and you could feel his breath on your face. His eyes found yours. They searched your eyes, trying to figure out if you want to kiss him just as bad as he did you. When he came up with not much of an answer he took a risk.

His lips were on yours, his hand tilted your head back to get a better angle and access. His kiss was soft and gentle not at all what you would’ve expected from Dean Winchester. You kissed back within seconds of him kissing you. The two of you stayed in this position for what felt like eternity but actually was only a minute or so. He pulled away first because the burning in his lungs was getting too much. Dean stayed close to you, one hand still on the back of you head and the other was gently placed on your hip.

Once he got enough air to satisfy his treacherous lungs, he was on you again only this time harder than the last. He kissed you hard and deep with a foreign urgency that you weren’t use to. The sheer force of the kiss made you kiss back with the same level of need. You two were all over each other. Hands going from each other’s hair to sides to legs, never staying in one place for too long. Your bodies pressed up against one another. Somewhere along the way you ended up on his lap, but what surprised you most of all was how good it felt. It was amazing to feel like someone needed you as much as he needed you. It felt perfect how good the two of you molded together.

“Let’s take this some place else,” Dean said once you pulled away for air. His hands were on you ass, lifting you up simultaneously scooting the chair back. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you down the hall. The closer you got to his room the more hurried he was, the more frantic. It was like he was going to loose his mind if he didn’t have you right that second.

Once you reached his door, he took no time at all to push it open and quickly shut and lock it. Inside his room, he gave you something to think about other then the pain. He took you out of your head and you filled the space in his bed. And once again, you molded together perfectly.

But in the morning it was over and you had to leave. It wasn’t your room, it wasn’t your space. You were just a guest that would soon overstay her visit. You put on your clothes, going as slow as possible hoping that he would wake up and would tell you to stay. But he didn’t and you were gone from his room.

As much as you had loved that night, you wished it would never happen again. Because as much as you enjoyed what happened, the pain of leaving and knowing that it didn’t mean anything to Dean, was almost unbearable. But as much as you wished that you would stay out of his bed, you fell back in it time and time again. And it hurt leaving each and every time.

And though you were young, you knew how the world worked. You are only wanted for so long then it’s time for you to go.

So every morning or as soon as he fell asleep you went.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #angst #fluff #Sam Winchester #jack kline #castiel #friends with benifits #implied smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

[musherum]

long post -/ cael talks about her new asthma medication and recent Realizations

honestly? im noticing a lot of improvement since i started the new medication. its a corticosteroid, which is a kind of drug that is exclusively for treating constrictive asthma. there are two different types of asthma, see: theres inflammatory, which responds well to treatment with ventalin, the most common inhaler which provides immediate, “emergency” relief when you have an attack of inflammatory asthma, and theres constrictive, which doesnt respond to it at all. this was the “missing link” i was looking for. i didnt know about the medication requirements for that form of asthma until a few days ago when i had a major attack of constrictive asthma.

it.... took me a lot to finally say to my mum “i need to go to a doctor. i am having a lot of trouble breathing, and i cannot function. i know this cannot be normal.” it took even more, though, to say to her that i needed to stay home that day, and miss the GED class im taking - even though the day before was the first session. my mom has screamed at me and called me a failure and an idiot before, when she caught me skipping school because of depression and fatigue. that was a very very big step for me, facing my fear of my mom yelling at me again. but i could not focus on anything, not with how laboured my breathing was. it was the frustration of not being able to sleep that finally pushed me over the edge - while i was up all night with my then untreated and untreatable asthma attack, i 

i told her my symptoms, and then explained to her my, uh, “theory” that i had a form of asthma that didnt respond to ventalin. i got the name wrong (i mixed up constrictive and inflammatory), but otherwise, i got it entirely correct. i was so scared that she might brush me off, like what had happened before with so many people when i was younger. it had even happened with other doctors. but, fortunatley, she quickly agreed with me that it appears i need a corticosteroid as well as my ventalin to treat my symptoms.

i didnt know, before very recently, that ventalin is exclusively for inflammatory asthma, or that constrictive asthma requires cordicosteroids to treat. all along, i thought i was just being lazy, or dumb, or panicking, or lying, or a that i just didnt care. because people have said things like this to me. all throughout my life. i would say, “i cannot breathe,��� and they would say, “take your emergency (ventalin) puffer.” so i would. and when i said i still didnt feel better, after i took my ventalin puffer in front of them, they stopped believing it could be asthma. older people, the ones who were supposed to take care of kids when theyre hurting, were the MOST dissmissive of my complaints. because they thought they knew everything about what asthma was. better than a kid who had it.

i thought that whatever it was, it couldnt be asthma, because so many older people told me so. no one ever told me that constrictory asthma needed a different additional medication. no one told me that i needed it. everyone said that asthma could just be treated with a ventalin inhaler, period, and that if i was so out of breath, i should just use mine. and i did. and itd didnt work. so i figured... i must not have asthma. because surely an adult knows better than i do, right?

as i grew up, my memories faded as memories do - but none so much as that of the visit to the doctors when i was first diagnosed. i can remember only a precious handful of details now; a diagram that depicted the inside of the lungs, shown with one having its air-tubes contracted tightly, and the other clogged up with mucus. i forgot about it because i was full of self loathing, i feel like, at least in part - its much harder to control your emotions when you dont have enough oxygen to normally power your brain, and the bullying i withstood, while not violent, was very frequent. i was very much not a “popular kid,” ill leave it there. a lot of people hated me. and a lot of people only pretended to like me, and i wasnt able to tell they were laughing at me. when you have shit like that on your mind constantly, and youre oxygen starved??? you tend to be a little, uh, distracted. im not surprised that i dont remember it well. but i wish i did. all i know for sure is that at the end of the day, i had a ventalin puffer, and that was it. i think there may have been a misunderstanding - when the doctor said that the cortisol (the most common, brand-name corticosteroid) is for long-term relief and the ventalin is for emergencies, my mom might have thought something along the lines of, “my child had an asthma attack, and it was an emergency. therefore ventalin is what we need, not cortisol.” but again, i dont know that for sure, and i dont want to throw anyone under the bus. it may have been that, or it may not have been. but i feel that my mom likely wouldnt remember if i asked her - taking ME to a doctors appointment wouldnt rank very high on her “important life moments” list, i suspect.

and so as i grew up, again, i had ventalin, but i very rarely remember having cortisol around, let alone taking it. uh, sorry i mean, corticosteroids. anyway, um... i think i was depressed then, even as a kid. my mom did not impress the importance of the medicine on me - she said it wasnt a that big a deal, that i only need to take it “sometimes.” and so when i ran out, i figured i didnt have to rush to tell her. and, of course, i didnt have the energy to take it every day - couldnt breath. in fact, because it required me to wash my mouth out through after taking it every morning and night, it was significantly more difficult to take the medicine that treated my constrictive asthma. and again, i did not have energy to let me do what i knew i was supposed to. and i did not know that just taking the corticosteroid regularly would help me get my energy back, because no one ever told me that my energy had... WENT anywhere. they didnt mention it being a part of the disease, so i assumed to was unrelated. i didnt know the science behind it back then, i was a little kid! and so it was that every time i had a flair-up, people kept telling me to use my ventalin inhaler, the one thats for “emergencies,” if i really felt so bad. and so.... i would. and the ventalin would not ease my constricted lungs, because its intended for inflammation. and when i tried to tell them it wasnt working, people would start telling me it wasnt asthma, and that it had to be something else - something that i was fucking up. and i believed them. i believed what they told me. because i thought that adults were supposed to be smart, and know more than kids, and that they were supposed to protect me when i said i was hurting. i thought they were supposed to help children when theyre hurting. and so all along, i believed them, cause why would they lie to me? they must know what theyre talking about. adults know more than kids, they never shut up about it, i probably thought. and... so i started to really internalize the idea that it was my fault. that i was always so tired, and forgetful, and weak, and exhausted, and out of breath, and bad at talking, and bad at concentrating, and bad in school, and bad at everything... because i was just a bad person. i even thought it was my fault that my hands wouldnt stop shaking - no matter how much i drew. my lines were always crooked and bent. so because i never knew that cortisol was the medicine i needed the most, i was never ABLE to stop my hands from shaking, no matter how hard i tried and how much i practiced drawing. so i assumed i was just a naturally shitty artist, and began to resign myself to a life of never being able to create something beautiful. no matter how much i practiced drawing.

all of it was because of my constrictive asthma - either because of too little air being able to penetrate my lungs and oxygenate my body and bloodstream, or because of the sharp, sudden and literally dizzying rips of air that i had to suck in just to breath at all.

all these years of hating myself have been perpetuated so needlessly, all because people assumed they knew better than a kid. even when the kid tells you “he” (really she, im talking about me as a kid after all) has a disease and that “he” (again, she) cant breathe and that “he” (SHE) has tried what you are suggesting and it does ever work. even if that kid is literally telling them, “it is my disease that is causing this.”

because people brushed me off, and put me down, even when i was telling them that i couldnt breath. even when i tried to explain to them that i felt like i was being slowly suffocated, by an invisble hand squeezing the air out of my chest. because thats what it DOES feel like.

...fuck, man. that was fucked up.

#yall better treat kids as gently and kindly as humanly possible #you better fucking believe them when they say theyre hurting. you better try to fucking help instead of judging them. #or else theyll end up all fucked up like me #im getting better. i can feel that im get better #slowly #but its only because i fought past my intense fear of being told that what i was feeling wasnt real #i dont want kids to have to go through that too. i dont want anyone to #but these things start when we're children. and it seriously damages us. #sometimes beyond the ability to repair ourselves #so please. please for the love of god dont be mean to kids when they arent hurting anything or anyone. #they are the very definition of 'innocent.' #and you can hurt them very badly without meaning to. not just their bodies but also their young minds are delicate #if they hurt something or someone it can only ever be because they didnt understand that it would be wrong. kids are inherently NOT evil #but they ARE inherently inconsiderate. because theyre still learning. #ignorance always precedes knowlege #and children are literally by definition 'new to this.' #so you must please be gentle with them. *please.* #you need to be patient and gentle and explain it to them. and listen to them when they say somethings wrong #and when you think theyve DONE something wrong? #you need to be calm and you need to be patient. do not get angry at a child for not knowing what is right yet. #they havent had a CHANCE to learn. #be the person to give them that chance. #not the person who damages them for life.

[rilenerocks]

The other day I exchanged messages with a friend I’ve never seen. We met in an online Merkel Cell cancer support group. Her husband was a decade younger than Michael when he was diagnosed with Merkel, in his early fifties. The course of his disease was short, less than a year and a half from discovery to death. I got banned from that support group after being in it for a little over a week. I was bringing up questions about emotional issues rather than just talking about the nuts and bolts of the disease and its possible treatments. After I was kicked out, this friend begged the administrators for my email address and we’ve been corresponding ever since. The anniversary of her husband’s death was last week and I always check in with her on that day. I expressed my hope that she was getting along well and had found some space for small joys in her life. When she answered, I felt like she was troubled by her current emotional state. She wrote that we’d both had wonderful experiences in our marriages but that now we had to learn how to live again in real time. That caught me up short.

Live in real time? I’ve been living about as hard in real time as a person can, in my opinion. Since Michael’s death, I’ve traveled alone several times, organized my 50th high school reunion and seen my favorite tennis player, Roger Federer, twice in real life tournaments for the very first time. I’ve been to half a dozen music concerts from John Prine to Pete Yorn to Janis Ian and Paul McCartney, among others.

I swim five days a week. I go to movies and have joined a book club. I’m going to serve on my city’s historic preservation committee. I’ve taken a number of classes, had both my knees replaced and knocked many items off my to-do  list. Isn’t this living in real time? I think what she meant was that my constant emotional engagement with Michael means I’m living in the past. But that’s simply not true for me. Our long and deep emotional connection is still alive in me. He’s only been gone a tiny percentage of the time we were together. And he’s not going anywhere, not out of my head or my heart or my soul.

But that seems to be a point of contention in regard to how people are “supposed” to be after a death. Michael isn’t in my way in terms of daily life. I am. He doesn’t interfere with what I do. He didn’t when he was alive either. And that’s the way it is.  I thought to myself, this exchange is another case of more and less, the story of my life. I am always talking about the things which are “more” while many around me could do with a little “less.”

I certainly know more now about lots of things than I ever have  in my life. And that “knowing” is not yet close to its endpoint. I’m learning every day. I’ve always been learning. I’m motivated. As long as my brain is healthy I expect I’ll continue increasing my stash of both useful and useless facts and ideas. I retain volumes of it, stuffed in the corners of my mind. And I like to talk about it all. In traditional terms that seems ok. Certain areas of my conversation are acceptable. For example there are topics which are nice and neutral. There’s gardening. Sometimes there’s politics, although I can’t say I’m exactly neutral in that regard. But there’s  school.  This fall I’m taking three classes. One is about current affairs in the Horn of Africa about which I know very little. Another focuses on Persia and Rome and will feature readings from Herodotus. I’ve always wanted to read Herodotus, especially after watching the smolderingly sexy Ralph Fiennes carrying around a battered leather copy of his histories in the film The English Patient. The third is about early Scottish history. I know a little bit about that, but after watching the Outlander television series with the equally smoldering Sam Heughan, (who just happens to look like my husband when he was young,) I figured it couldn’t hurt to learn more. I’m a curious mixture of intellectual and pop culture knowledge – I can disappear into the classics world and pop back into current entertainment pretty seamlessly.

I was taking biology classes for a time during the past couple of years. Another socially acceptable conversation topic. But the science class offerings this fall weren’t that interesting to me this semester and frankly, I’ve got enough cancer stuff happening in real life without exploring more theory right now. Fucking cancer. I know several people who are actively engaged in their cancers, some of which are new and others which are old pals that lay dormant for a long time before reappearing in new places to create havoc. Now I’m moving into the “more” arena. This is where things get uncomfortable in my world. For example,  I think that the majority of people who live for a long while will get cancer. We actually have it every day, mutations that crop up at the genetic level but are squashed and eliminated by healthy immune systems. That is, until the mutations get tougher or the immune system gets weaker. After all my years of reading, that’s what I’ve concluded. Some treatments buy time. Others are still primitive. You don’t get to know whose body will react poorly or positively to what is attempted. Until there are wholly individual treatments that’s the way it’ll be. So where does that take me? I try to be a helper and do what I can for those I know.

I think about myself too. I have no idea when my turn might come. I think a lot about the advocacy I was able to provide for my family and most especially my husband. Will I be able to advocate well for myself if necessary? That’s one question I have no answers for at this point. I think about this stuff a lot and I try talking about it but my kids don’t like it and some friends are taken aback. They say what I know they intend to be nice, defusing comments that move rapidly away from the morbid topics. I guess that having thought about death for all the years during Michael’s illness, coupled with my longheld death anxiety from my childhood, as I watched my mom go in and out of hospitals, has locked me into what some think is the morbid side of life. To me it’s more practical than morbid. But it’s one of “those” topics that I tend to bring up that is off-putting to a lot of people. When I talk about it I’m not sad or scared or maudlin. I’m just wondering. Death is something that will happen to everyone and pondering it doesn’t stop me from living a reasonably positive daily life. But the death arena fits into the “too much” category.

The issue of my feeling Michael’s presence so often is another “more” topic. I guess it makes some people uncomfortable. Maybe they think I’m nuts. Maybe they think I’m not living a healthy life. I don’t view other people’s opinions as my problem. I’m open to sharing but am also aware that red flags pop up when I start waxing eloquent about my “ghost.” I can feel that it’s time to move on to something else, a subject more palatable for whomever is the listener.  It seems that I’ve always brought up issues that no one wants to talk about. Michael used to say that if I would only be quiet about certain topics life would be perfect. But I never believed anything was really perfect. Rather, I thought that if you kept working on problems or disturbing ideas like death, or basically anything that caused people psychological discomfort, that the process itself was almost more important than the end goal. I really enjoy thinking and discussing and sorting through virtually everything. I always thought that the more I knew about any issue, the better off I’d be. Michael, more reserved and less prone to the deep inward dives I do, loved me enough to go outside his comfort zone, sometimes kicking and screaming, into places he’d rather have ignored. In the end these explorations brought us incredibly close and gave us the stamina to go through our personal challenge that ended with his death. But what’s perfectly clear to me is that a lot of people prefer doing with less of these internal explorations into what I think are life’s and death’s fascinating mysteries. So when I bluntly bring up one of the off-limits topics, I’ll often feel the invisible hand up in my face and I know I’m supposed to be quiet. Despite the fact that I think we humans share a considerable amount of commonality in life’s essential business, talking about those things out loud just doesn’t happen enough for my taste.

There are all kinds of self-help books and advice websites about virtually everything. But say I decide to open up a sex conversation? Lots of people cut me off fast. I want to talk about how dreadful it feels for me to acknowledge that this most essential part of my life is over. I know that because I’m completely uninterested in being with anyone but Michael. But my drive isn’t dead. I’m going to miss intimacy and kissing and being touched in the way you build with bonds with another person for as long as I remain cognitive. But that’s a “less” conversation. I often wonder what other people feel and if they’re still sexually engaged but I rarely talk about this stuff because it feels like I’m crossing a social boundary line. Maybe I am.

I just think there’s comfort in sharing information and feelings that to me, must be widespread across our species. Am I outrageous? I guess some people might think that. But to me, I’m just myself. I’m still struggling with the separateness that I feel when shut down by the unwritten rules of social exchange. I just can’t stand all these implicit boundaries. Still, I have to live in the culture I occupy so I mostly abide them. More and less. Death and illness and sex are apparently for my private ruminations except for a very few people who accept me for who I am. With the others I guess I can talk about taxes and the weather. I’m glad I still feel Michael so strongly inside me. I can still talk to him about anything and he knows I’m living in real time. With a vengeance. Another thing he always told me was that he thought I was very polite to ask him his opinion on an issue when we both knew I would do exactly what I wanted to no matter what he thought. Still valid. Ultimately, I really don’t care what anyone thinks about my choices. But I’m pretty sure they’d like them if they gave me a chance to say more.

More and Less The other day I exchanged messages with a friend I’ve never seen. We met in an online Merkel Cell cancer support group.

[newlondonlamb]

Some Needed Time Away

Post written by Kathy Lamb on April 29, 2019.

I’m sitting in Mt. Pleasant (Charleston), South Carolina in the condo of some great friends. They have always been so generous to allow others the use of this place! Joe and I flew here last Wednesday night and have been enjoying the sunshine, warmth and time to just be. I’m using it to process all that has happened over the last five months since my diagnosis of breast cancer.

To finish from my previous blog post, I had written that I was diagnosed on November 7, 2018, I had my first surgery on December 6, 2018, my second surgery – a re-excision to remove more cancer on January 8, 2019, and since that still wasn’t enough, my third surgery was February 11, 2019. My third surgery I opted for a mastectomy of my right breast and an axillary lymph node dissection. We were so relieved that this was my decision as the pathology report showed a rather large area of cancer still in the tissue, as well as one additional lymph node with cancer. During that third surgery, my plastic surgeon placed an expander intended to be filled over several months with saline in order to stretch the skin and prepare it for a future surgery where I will have the expander removed and a silicone implant with fat grafting put in its place.

At the same time, I was going through my many surgeries and recoveries, my mom continued to get weaker and sicker. She had been with us over Christmas and was obviously not improving. Joe had many tests run with no definitive answers. She insisted on going back home, but she needed to have someone with her 24/7 as she couldn’t take care of her basic needs. When she fell again one evening, she was admitted to the hospital in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Her kidney function up until this point had tested normal, but this time it was evident she had failing kidneys and was transferred to Wausau hospital for further evaluation, testing, and treatment. Her kidneys were shutting down and her breathing became labored as her lungs filled with fluid. Finally, a nephrologist ordered a kidney biopsy which came back showing she had a rare autoimmune disease called ANCA vasculitis. She was put on a ventilator and started on dialysis. I was able to see her after my second surgery and was certain she wasn’t going to live through this. She was sedated, pale, and all her tissues were swollen with fluid. We prayed over her and for her as often as possible. I guess it was a distraction from my own health issues. My sister, Julie, was up from San Antonio to be with mom when I couldn’t be. She was amazing as she cared for mom, waded through the maze of medical jargon and procedures and fought for the best care to be given. She so wanted to be with me as I went through surgeries, as she had been diagnosed and underwent treatments for breast cancer two years prior to me. God knew Julie was most needed by mom’s side. She gave up five weeks to be in Wisconsin, all while trying to stay on top of her job as a realtor/property manager with her husband.

Mom wasn’t improving with the dialysis in Wausau and needed to receive hemapheresis as well as dialysis. She was transferred on a ventilator to Marshfield hospital. Leaving her there to return home for my third surgery was heart-wrenching! Would I see my mom alive again? I pleaded with God to spare her life.

Our lives have been so greatly impacted by these two diseases — breast cancer and ANCA vasculitis. Yet God still holds us closely! Just typing this up — the memories have me in tears—tears of pain for all we’ve been through, tears of thankfulness that God has seen fit to spare my mom’s life and mine, tears of love for my dear husband who amazes me more and more each day with his strength and wisdom, and love for my sister who sacrificed a lot to be here for many weeks caring for us all!

But I need to be honest….I’m struggling! I love being away on vacation with Joe! I love the fact that it is the first full week since November without a doctors appointment! I love the sunshine and warmth and chance to see my niece and her family and our dear friends and their littles here in Charleston! Yet God and I are in a wrestling match. I asked Him for clarity on what my problem is, and the word ‘trust’ keeps coming up again and again. Head knowledge tells me absolutely I can and do trust God to have my best in mind. My heart says that I’m not sure I like what that best looks like. I’m stuck in my thoughts all day long and find it difficult to always be fully present. I’m sitting on the edge of depression, yet forcing myself to get out and enjoy life with Joe. Any of you that have dealt with depression know that it usually does boost your mood to just go and do. When we have it’s been just that…great! Yet, once I’m alone it starts again —“Is there still cancer in my body?”, “Will I ever feel more normal?”, “How can my husband find me in any way desirable?”. There are many more questions, such as: “God, can I truly trust You?”, “God, can you give me joy again?”, “God, can you take away my fears?”, “God, can you help me to keep hoping?”.

Wow! It’s difficult to reread that last paragraph—difficult to be so transparent and vulnerable! But I want my journey and my struggles to be used by God to help even one person reading this to know they aren’t alone. God adores me and desires an intimate relationship with me. He feels the same about each of you reading this!!! We must keep in the battle for the enemy wants to seek and destroy what God intends for His good. We must lift each other up in prayer and reach out for support when we are in the depths of despair. We must look for those in our lives who just need to experience the ministry of presence—not quick fixes or platitudes.

Yes, this is a really long post! Way to go if you got all the way through it! My word for 2019 is HOPE and I will continue to have hope for the future God has in store for me as well as all of you! Blessings!

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him”.    Psalm 28:7 (NIV)

“Guide me in Your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long”.    Psalm 25:5 (NIV)

[aquarianlights]

I am the anon who asked about nexplanon. I thought it could trigger you, that's why I didn't go into details. I wanted to know if it stops your period or if you are still bleeding? Hope I've been more clear.

Gonna write out a fuckton of details, putting the important things in bold…and then put a completely bolded TL;DR at the end:

I really appreciate the not wanting to trigger me. I thought maybe that was why you didn’t go into detail. That is really respectful and I really appreciate it, but for future reference for you and anyone: If it is medical, scientific, or for educational purposes and does not reference my parts sexually or treat me or my parts as sexual objects and I still remain male in the eyes of whomever is asking me questions, I don’t mind explicit detail.

I really appreciate that, though.

As for the answer….It’s a little complicated.

This is my replacement nexplanon. I had one for three years prior to this one. I got my replacement one put in on 11/22/2017.

With my FIRST nexplanon…the first three years I had it…I didn’t bleed at all. The one and ONLY time I spotted (did not get a full period and did not get ANY associated symptoms…just simply spotted) was when living with my ex-girlfriend and her husband. My ex had VERY alpha-essque hormones. I spotted tiny, tiny bit when living with Chelle but it was so unnoticeable that I didn’t even have to use a pad.

It is completely normal for anyone with female parts that has nexplanon to actually get a full period (even with all the associated symptoms) for the first few months after insertion… And, IF I UNDERSTOOD MY NURSE RIGHT…..(I may not have, coz I’ve been in a total daze this past week+), it’s even possible for people with the appropriate female parts to have full periods with associated symptoms every month on time for the entirety of their time with nexplanon. But every single person I’ve talked to who has nexplanon said that’s really not a thing and their periods, if they got them AT ALL, went away almost immediately after the first few months.

I have a bleeding/clotting disorder that especially affects my periods (and is also something I have to alert tattoo artists to which is why a lot of my tats come out unfinished). When I got my first period at the age of…maybe 13? I was hospitalized because I clotted so badly and I almost bled out entirely. They suggested I take my uterus out immediately because this wasn’t something that was going to go away and I would need to be on a VERY STRONG BC for the rest of my life that either eliminated bleeding/clotting altogether or made it to where I bled/clotted like a normal person’s period, which would still be awful. ALSO, my periods last approximately 2 weeks, give or take a couple days each time. This is normal for my entire family on my mother’s side…it would put my mom and her mom and their mom before that and all my mom’s sisters out of work and out of school and stuff the entire time every month of their period. They didn’t have it as severe as me because they didn’t have the bleeding/clotting disorder to worry about. But they did have as severe cramping as I had that was as bad, if not worse, than labour pains (spoken from women in my family who have been through it, some multiple times). They DIDN’T have something that I didn’t get until my late teens, early 20′s…and on… until I got my nexplanon. The psychological effects of the period. Every single time I got my period, I would wind up in a hospital the day before I actually got it because of the most extreme and impulsive suicide attempts you can imagine. I have NEVER felt such extreme psychological instability as I have when on my period. It’s like…every single disorder I have gets amplified by a million and they all clash and I’m unable to control anything and suddenly my body and mind act on their own and I’m no longer in control and I black out and wake up in a hospital or while being dragged, kicking and screaming, down the hall by orderlies to the floor with a ward on it. The hallucinations, the BPD symptoms, the other schizo symptoms, the homicidal and suicidal symptoms usually being taken over by suicidal, the self harm urges, the inability to make decisions for myself, the panic attacks while all of this is happening, flashbacks to rapes and being in wards and being trapped and sex training and all sorts of different things that i cant remember, …the list goes on and on. ALL AT ONCE. I just wake up and get FLOODED with all of these things all at once and Killian shuts down and idk what or who takes over but whatever does instantly goes for the most dramatic, impulsive, instantaneous, shocking, grandiose, suicidal gesture you could ever imagine that always seems to be in public (lets break a glass mirror in public with your brass knuckles and slit our wrists and throat open with a huge shard where everyone can see, why don’t we!?) so I mean, you can only imagine how many times I’ve been thrown right on the ground by a cop and cuffed and taken in. This is usually the day BEFORE my period. Also, I starve on my period. I starve naturally coz I’m anorexic…but it takes willpower to starve during non-period times and times when I’m sober..During my period…I can’t eat anything coz I always feel nauseated, my two lower quadrants are always in such intense throbbing or stabbing pain that I’m writhing and screaming despite heating pads and normally a dilaudid or fentanyl drip at the hospital, the thought, smell, and visual effect of food makes me feel….full? Idk how to describe… It’s not nauseated. But it makes me feel so full that I couldn’t force myself to eat even if I wanted to. And since my period lasts a MINIMUM of two weeks, give or take a couple days, I usually end up on IV nutrients, too.

I’m explaining all of this because I’m needing to explain WHY it is so important that I chose nexplanon over…say…The Pill or an IUD or something. I’ve heard that the Depo Provera shot works for people who can’t handle nexplanon and vice versa. Well, when I tried the Depo Provera shot, I wound up having the effects of an anti-depressant on me…in other words, it made me so insatiably suicidal that I ended up in a ward within a couple hours of getting the shot. Depo worked HORRIBLY on me…I didn’t even get to see if it worked for any of my period symptoms coz it had to be flushed from my system entirely coz of the EXTREME psych effects it had on me.

But Nexplanon….Nexplanon was my saving grace.

Coz not only did I literally NEED the bleeding/clotting to stop….But I NEEDED ALMOST ALL of the associated symptoms to stop. I think the only things that weren’t either life threatening or debilitating were mild acne that happened very rarely each period (never really had to deal with acne in my life) and the bloating/water retention. Very specific, certain mood swings associated with periods were something not life threatening or debilitating either. Just…annoying and a total bitch to everyone around me hahahaha. I slayed with my words and popped off on anyone…Yikes. But it wasn’t like my BPD mood swings where 0 to 100 in less than a second on being euphoric and suicidal almost simultaneously.

I explained all of that because I need everyone to realize I chose nexplanon and not anything else because almost everything about my period (the bleeding/clotting AND almost ALL associated symptoms) were life threatening AND debilitating and had almost killed me so many times, it was terrifying. Since my parents obviously did not agree to get my uterus taken out and since I haven’t had the money to get mine surgically removed and donated to a wonderful transgirl (got three of you lovely ladies in mind! you all know who you are!)…I needed a BC medication that was going to stop EVERYTHING. Not just “the period”. But the ENTIRE period. The bleeding/clotting and ALL associated symptoms.

That BC was either Depo Provera shot or Nexplanon. One works, the other doesn’t…it seems to be that way with everyone. I tried Nexplanon first. That worked well. I forget why I tried Depo inbetween but you just read how nearly fatal that was for me…

ANYWAYS…

So this is my second time on it. As I said, It was put in on 11/22/2017. 

The removal and replacement went smoothly and it’s been going smoothly……..until this month.

What I am experiencing is normal for a NORMAL PERSON. A NORMAL PERSON with a NORMAL PERIOD would be okay with these symptoms. Problem being….Idk what symptoms are associated with what because:a) I’m switching my migraine medication to something that causes certain side effects until it levels out in my systemb) I’m having what a normal person would consider a full periodc) Optical and chronic migraines are happening simultaneously and they are debilitating to the point of making me bed-ridden if I don’t take my old migraine med along with this new one (which I’m not supposed to be doing)d) I’m getting a rheumatoid diagnosis and seeing a rheymatologist soon (they’re gonna probably schedule me tomorrow for a week to a month out…month at the longest) for either a lupus or fibro diagnosis, but they’re also going to check for hyperalgesia presenting in the kicked puppy/”flinching disorder” way and there are a FUCKTON of new symptoms I’m experiencing because of whatever this auto-immune disorder or rheumatoid virus (or both) is and my period actually could be happening BECAUSE of all of thise) I added a new exercise regime in when I really haven’t exercised every day and night consistently since I got diagnosed with chronic costochondritis for fear of cardiac arrest, which I fear even more now that I’m on a med that makes it to where I can’t sweat, BUT….exercise is good for joint/muscle disease/virus/pain/etc etc etc…f) I’m under a LOT of stress and pressure regarding so many things but right now it’s primarily school…getting into a pre-med tailored general biology major and a good university to switch to a medical major and pass the MCAT and do a FUCKTON of things simultaneously in order to get into medical school (trust me, you have NO idea how many non-scholastic things you HAVE to do to even be considered an applicant at p much every med uni)… I mean, I’m enrolled in three different colleges right now and I’m taking 6 vet tech related medical classes right now and will be taking 2 general ed classes on campus 45 minutes from here to finish a different degree…so I will have two associates band a bachelors by the time I’m moving on to my doctorate (coz med majors don’t get their masters, we just move from bachelors to doctorate for some reason)g) FAFSA is another time constraint stress that is KILLING ME and scholarships and such….h) Getting into the “back to work” program with disability, trying to find a job, trying to find internships, keeping up with seminars, paperwork stacked a mile high that is all deadline, deadline, DEADLINE…I’m going to a bazillion, million doctors who are all 3+ hours away and a lot of them are turning me away at the end of the visit because they “just don’t know what to do” and “this is above [my] pay-grade” so specialists refer me to other specialists who just refer me RIGHT BACK to those other specialists and then it’s an argument on whose specialty it is because the symptoms are literally from head to foot in me and no one knows what the fuck to do to help until I see a rheumatologist so it’s MORE THAN STRESSFUL driving 6+ hours almost every day of the week to go through extensive medical exams and testing only to be told they can’t help me/don’t know what to do/recommend…….and refer me someplace else….. and also all the hospital visits I’m ending up having to endure… alone… because my roommates are an “every man for themselves” type of roommate situation….i) Being put on a new medication I’ve never tried before, Lyrica, and playing around with the dosage myself and pushing it up to 600mg a day sometimes when I’m prescribed 200mg a day (100/100 day/night) and the max legal dose for my issues is 300mg/day…not to mention I’m not being consistent with it at all…and I was supposed to titrate up from 25mg to 75mg because it can affect my psych issues the first month but I just started on 200mg per day anyways coz I’m an idiot and have a self-medication problem (hence why tons of psychs have discharged me…rightfully so)j) moving in general and getting adjusted to new roommates and a new state and a new city and a new environment in general….k) getting used to a new style of support that I WANT AND NEED OVERALL but can’t handle and don’t need specifically right now when I’m just now getting diagnosed and transitioning through all these things…L) my HRT doc finally cleared me for T after working with her and the HRT board with PPH because it was dangerous with my psych issues….and then all of a sudden all of these physical issues popped up, forcing me not only to change my entire moving plans, living plans, schooling plans, autonomy timeline, Echo timeline, screwed with my financial stability I had going on MAJORLY, a TON of other things….and then ONCE AGAIN…barred me from being eligible for HRT because it isn’t safe anymore and until I get a full, complete workup and diagnosis, as well as find out what medications I’m going to be on and the dosage and they level out in my system and we all see how they’re going to affect me…….HRT is not an option….so I have to wait EVEN LONGER….to transition….M) relations with my parents became more strained than ever lately which is odd because normally being away and being unable to be physically abused makes things better and healthier between us…but suddenly, I’VE become the abusive one…. I’m fucking lashing out at my mother every chance I get and that’s normal for chronic illness diagnosis and stuff but blacking out due to anger is not… and idk where the anger black outs are coming from…and there are other black outs…N) Shit going on with my grandparents that SHOULDN’T be going on as well as with my father that SHOULDNT be going on and only people who truly know my father and me and what has gone on between us and who he really is can comment on this (which those people I can count on one hand), but I hope to god he dies before I can get to him…Jesus fucking christO) ……I can’t go on with specifics anymore, I’m bad with list but SUFFICE IT TO SAY…..

I HAVE A FUCKTON OF STUFF GOING ON SIMULTANEOUSLY AND I’M DOING ABOVE A NEUROTYPICAL LEVEL OF ADULTING EVERY SINGLE DAY. Like….WAY above. Above an able-bodied level of adulting, too! Above a neurotypical, able-bodied person’s adulting workload every day…. Which is scary.

I’m mentioning all that because all of that is apparently stress related. Apparently if there is enough stress in your body, it can release certain hormones. And those hormones, if powerful enough…like…if the stress is powerful enough…can cause a period in people. For people who aren’t on BC, it can cause them to have it at irregular times (ie; having it right after having finally stopped it… having it twice in one month…having it once in 3 months….etc etc etc).

That list is the major things I can think of off the very top of my head that are going on with me at this very moment… It is POSSIBLE that all of that is the cause of me having a normal person’s flow and all associated symptom’s at a normal person’s level.

WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY NORMAL PERSON: I mean… A normal flow as in… +NOT going through over one of the biggest maxi pads available every half hour/using a singular biggest maxi pad available maybe every 6-8 hours, +NOT being bed-ridden due to cramps/being able to stand up and walk and walk up and down stairs on my own when I have cramps and be out and about if I NEED to and stand the duration of a shower with cramps, being able to eat if I need to, +having zofran or phenergen work when nauseated, +having actual acne that I clawed to shreds with my nails so it’s very noticeable (I’ve had acne less than 10 times in my entire life so it’s a little distressing to see it on my face coz idk how to deal with it, but I had to claw at it until the convex forms turned concave and started gushing blood…so now it looks like two, big, perfectly round, bright red, blood-coloured spots on my face that I claw open every morning till they bleed and claw at during the day and smother in neosporin during the night), +the clotting is about half the size of my fits and comes out only when I pee/sit on the toilet (normally, the clots are the size of my fits or bigger, which is why a D&C surgery is necessary if it were happening again, but my hands are very small…VERY small…probably smaller than President Tiny Hands…so half the size is not that bad),+Bloating/water retention to where my pants/shirts don’t even fit but my weight hasn’t gone up…but, man, it hurts my soul and my mind so badly that it makes me want to hurt myself for self loathing purposes which I haven’t wanted to do in a long time and kill myself for being obese and hideous despite the fact I know this is temporary.+Mild headaches/NOT MIGRAINES OR HEADACHES THAT HAVE ANY SORT OR LIGHT OR SOUND SENSITIVITY,+NORMAL mood swings that are not akin to BPD or bipolar disorder at all and aren’t bad enough to cause any fights, either with others or with myself,+NO Suicidal thoughts or suicidal ideation…No instantaneous suicide attempts…no insatiable self harm urges,+This may be specific to me, but cravings for weird things like the feel of blood or the smell of the ocean,+Either an entire lack of appetite or a voracious appetite+Putting off adult responsibilities with a NORMAL amount of guilty conscious applied to it and not a “Jesus fucking christ, you’re absolutely useless, ON TOP of being obese and ugly, you really DO need to kill yourself RIGHT NOW because look at all the things you need to do and you’re not, you lazy piece of shit child” but more of a “You’re being lazy lol, but it’s okay…tomorrow is a new day. Fuck it. Fuck being an adult. I am NOT adulting today!”+INTENSE craving for chocolate…ALL the time… Like, not cheap chocolate, either. Like… mandarin orange infused godiva chocolate… All day, every day. Fuck.+Breasts swelling to almost a whole new cup size. Been having a hard time using the normal sized chest binder I use because my breasts swelled or retained water/milk/whatever so much. I don’t think they hit C’s, but my smaller B-cup bras which is what I normally wear to bed didn’t fit. Regular sized B-cups are normally WAY too loose on me to wear to bed and my girls will slip out during the night so I always have to find the tight, little girls training B-cups instead of, like…the ladies. I can fit into an A, but it’s just slightly too tight and a little too uncomfortable, unfortunately. I was an A my whole life until I got on antipsychotics. Hopefully T will bring them down to the smallest A possible and I can go down in my binder size.+Heightened sensitivity to pain and heat

Here’s a lack of symptoms I have entirely despite the fact I have my period that normally accompany MY period which also make this a “normal” person’s period:+No homicidal thoughts/desires/actions (thoughts past the normal)!+No suicidal thoughts/desires/actions (thoughts past the normal)!+No impulse spending to the point of spending the entirety of your money.+No sudden development of bipolar disorder but only for the duration of your period (a psych has confirmed this with me and gone over it with me and why I am bipolar on my period and not BPD and how this can be and how it is similar to a drug induced mental disorder, ie; drug induced schizophrenia, so I’m not just like…pulling this out of the blue, I swear lololol)+An ability to remain calm and level headed during arguments or fights if there even are any and turn things into a debate or a joke/satirical conversation instead of an argument like I normally do+No sudden surge of a loss of interest in things I love (which was hard to do to begin with since I lost everything I loved to depression over the years so this feeling of losing my passions during my periods was very soul crushing)+No getting triggered by noise, like… Being mentally overloaded by noise everywhere. I know there’s a word for this and it’s normally associated with autistic people but I’m blanking coz I’m not autistic and I don’t usually experience this and a cacophony of noise actually soothes me usually, tbh…lol.+No being overly sensitive to other people’s words and actions and no reading into and over-analyzing everything everyone says and does+No extreme panic attacks that are actually mental based and not physically based (I have panic disorder, which means I don’t get any sort of mental symptoms with my panic attacks because panic disorder does not have any association with anxiety or anxiety attacks or panic attacks that are caused by mental stuff… so my panic attacks are always purely physical…during my period, they can be started mentally…which is impossible for me otherwise)+No odd fears popping up that I overcame a long time ago (ie; phone phobia making me have a panic attack if someone calls me and making me unable to answer the phone or call anyone I need to, balloon phobia, needle phobia…actually, you know, I’m still not quite over balloons yet…I thought I overcame it about like…4 or 5 years ago but then my coworkers tied balloons to my car doors as a prank and I had a panic attack and broke down crying and had to have one of them come cut them off for me lolololol…so idk about that one, but you get my examples, right?)+No losing the conscience I have built up over the years and maintained so that I can force myself to stay away from being abusive and neglectful to people I love (ie; gaslighting, manipulation, coercion, pressure, charm, using my unique charisma for evil, threats, homicidal actions, conditioning, etc etc etc…) which comes with being BPD since I cannot feel empathy or sympathy and cannot “put myself in someone else’s shoes” due to ANOTHER disorder so I have made my own conscience and I lose it during my period because it’s made up and I have to be very self aware to keep it in place coz I don’t have a conscience naturally like most people do.+No hallucinations, auditory and/or visual+No catatonic moments+No psychosis, temporary/intermittent or permanent enough to need intervention+No purposefully making a dramatic scene in public in order to elicit a response from professionals and the crowd around me to come try to take me away to a ward so I can fight them+No lying without even realizing I’m doing it or meaning to about REALLY weird things to get attention (The things I lie about without realizing I’m doing it until after I’ve already done it while I’m on my period are INSANE!!!! It can range from something as innocent and benign as like… lying about the weather to a long distance friend…”Yeah, it’s raining outside. So nice.” When it’s fucking sunny as hell and making me miserable??? To something as big and severe as “I have a gun pointed at my head right now. I’m ready to do it. I have nothing left to lose.” Bitch, I can count the number of times I’ve held a gun to my head on one hand and it’s a VERY low number because it’s always been my dad’s gun and I’ve only been honest about holding a gun to my head to like… my ex girlfriend and one of my friends. That’s it. Yet, I have said this line so many times on my period without even realizing it until after I’ve said it and when it’s already been said it’s kind of a *shrug* “Welp…oh well…I guess…Too late to correct it…” sorta thing…So I go with it and just put on a whole act and it feels totally normal when I’m on my period??? My period turns me into a really fucking crazy, manipulative, evil little boy…)+Trying to steal the spotlight from others irl to get attention on me (ie; I can’t think of a real example, so I’m making up one: A coworker blacks out during a shift so they have to call 911…when the paramedics arrive, I go start unloading boxes, using one of those retractable blade thingies to open the boxes, while everyone is watching our pale, actually in distress coworker be loaded onto a gurney… I would go as far as to literally stab myself or slice a VERY deep wound in my hand or even chop the front part pad of a finger off (which I really have done before) just so I can scream (for real coz it hurts and it makes me yelp in surprise) so that everyone will turn their attention onto me and one of the paramedics will grab me and take me with them in the ambulance and I will go to the hospital with them and get all the “Omg are you okay? What happened? Did [x] really happen? Were you really in the hospital? Omg blah blah blah ATTENTION blah blah” as soon as I get back and it will rip ALL the attention away from the coworker who actually deserved it and actually needed…that’s not an actual example, I made that up, but I would not be surprised in the least if I did something like that while on my period if I were working rn and this happened)+Impulse stealing from corporate stores just for the adrenaline rush and to shove it to “the man”+Majority of my life, it was Cry and sob and cry and sob and writhe and pull my hair out and claw at myself and sob with full body shakes because of how much mental pain I was in because suicidal feelings definitely overpowered homicidal, but now and before my original nexplanon was put in 4 years ago…like…the very very very last period I had…Going out and looking for a fight with strangers…a physical fight…that I damn well know I will lose coz I’m a 5′2″ obese boy with absolutely NO muscle… SIMPLY TO GET MY ASS BEAT AND FEEL THOSE ENDORPHINS RUSH AND FEEL THE ADRENALINE PUMP AND THEN DIE OUT (similar to cutting)… Or just go to a bar and get in the most gruesome bar fight ever… Or find a human-like substance… and stab it over and over with a knife and beat it in with brass knuckles… Threaten people with knives… Etc etc etc …. Basically a bunch of homicidal stuff that I experienced the first two days of my period but now it’s gone coz the homicidal definitely overpowers the suicidal now+Such extreme apathy AND lethargy that I could lose whatever job I have at the time, go from a solid 4.0 to failing all my classes, and lose placement and lose progress in absolutely EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING I’m attending/working towards/doing/etc+The extreme apathy and lethargy bleeds into self care, too. No showering, no brushing your teeth, no washing your hands, etc etc etc…

I can’t think of anything else, but there’s probably more…Idk. But Anyways…EVERYTHING ABOVE IS SUPPOSED TO BE MASKED MY NEXPLANON COMPLETELY!

What I am CURRENTLY experiencing…is the first list. The one prior to the one right above this one. Normal bleeding/clotting and a normal level of psychological and other physical symptoms.

However…this has never happened to me before…

During my first three years with my first nexplanon, it took less than the first month for ALL of my symptoms to go away and I didn’t even spot the first month. That’s kinda what it was like up until JUST NOW with the nexplanon. No spotting or associated symptoms or ANYTHING until….literally just a few days ago…Maybe even a week ago now. The bleeding has slowed to the point where I don’t need anything other than a thin pad now. The cramping has slowed to where I don’t need a heating pad all the time. The mood swings are gone… I’ll admit, the first two days I got my period, I wanted to kill myself so badly and I most certainly did self harm. I slit the fuck outta my wrists and was SO CLOSE to going for the 20-minute-kill-zone. But I didn’t. Thank GOD I didn’t do it…Also, the first two days were abnormal for me in the fact that I wanted to eat EVERYTHING. NONSTOP. I was SO HUNGRY. Normally my period makes me so nauseated and makes me want to stay away from food so adamantly that I can’t even force myself to eat to stay alive so, like I said, I usually end up on IV nutrients in the hospital during the second week… My hunger returned to normal level on the third day and then has gone to the forcing myself to eat to stay alive bit now because I’m never hungry and I’m looking at food either makes me feel full or nauseated. Smelling food definitely makes me feel nauseated unless it’s chocolate. Lmaoooo! I am prescribed both phenergen and zofran for different reasons, though, so I just pop some zofran and it normally takes care of it to where I can force myself to eat something to stay alive or to not have a hypoglycemic attack. Coz now if I don’t eat something (even if it’s just a fucking spoonful of peanut butter or a cup of orange juice or a bar of chocolate—listing those 3 things coz they’re the top three best things to bring someone out of hypoglycemic shock) within 24 hours, I will notice my blood sugar bottom out and I will go into hypoglycemic shock and if I don’t immediately take care of it, I need to be hospitalized. Which is why I ALWAYS have chocolate on hand and ALWAYS have orange juice in the house. Don’t always have peanut butter on hand…but I should. I also have chronically low blood pressure and for some reason that affects my blood sugar and how easily it can crash and such? I’m not quit sure how (med student here and I have no idea the physiology of this stuff lol….wow) but I have to pay SUPER SPECIAL ATTENTION to BOTH of those things (blood sugar and blood pressure) during my period…because if my BP bottoms out and I don’t get help, I go into a coma. God forbid it fucking happens while I’m sleeping which…since I take metropolol (migraine med which drops my BP coz it’s a BP med) before bed and go to sleep with ambien which lowers my BP double (ambien and sleeping lowers your BP) AND IF I’M ON MY PERIOD ON TOP OF THAT….my BP will just plummet…and if I’m sleeping, there’s no chance at getting help or found or anything… I’ll just go straight to a coma. Same with hypoglycemia. Which is why I make sure ESPECIALLY ON MY PERIOD to eat something chocolate or peanut butter or both…and drink a bit of orange juice before bed…just in case. Coz being in hypoglycemic shock is scary af…the few times I have been…being TOTALLY helpless like that…totally disoriented… totally at the mercy of whomever finds you…feeling yourself slipping away…. unable to call or move for help…that’s TERRIFYING. Lemme tell you…and MY PERIOD CAN MAKE THAT 20x WORSE. JFC.

So….

Tl;Dr: Yes, I’m bleeding this month… 3 months after getting it put in. I’m having what would be considered a “normal person’s” period with a “normal person’s” symptoms…nothing I’ve ever experienced myself with my own period. So this is a fucking miracle period, but it still sucks and is still terrifying.I chose Nexplanon because no other BC (other than I’ve heard Depo does this for some people?) not only stops the bleeding/clotting COMPLETELY, but also stops ALL associated symptoms, both physical and mental/emotional/psychological. Which…almost ALL (I can’t stress ALL enough; there’s barely any that ARE NOT) symptoms associated with a period have the potential to be fatal to me, including the mental/emotional/psychological ones. So a BC that stopped them all entirely is what I needed since my parents wouldn’t consent to taking my uterus out via surgery which is what doctors recommended over and over and over again and when I became an adult, it was too costly and is STILL too costly. So Nexplanon + the T I’m going to be getting on are a beautiful combination for stopping EVERYTHING.Apparently, it is NORMAL to have a period the first few months on Nexplanon, albeit I did not experience this with my first nexplanon and only experienced true spotting ONCE with my first nexplanon the first 3+ years I had it in when my hormonal alpha female ex-gf got her fullblown period and I was living with her and her husband and sleeping in the same bed as her. I only got spotting. No associated symptoms, physical or psychological.This time around, I am having what would be considered a normal period for a neurotypical person with no uterine problems or vaginal problems or bleeding disorders (I have vaginismus, too, so that factors in somewhere).The bleeding seems to have stopped entirely today, making it last around maybe 5-6 days, which I think is the “normal” time for a “normal” person. 

Most associated symptoms have left. The ones that remain are: Bloating, Breast swelling, Aching/Sore body (but that could be associated with the lupus/fibro/hyperalgesia diagnoses going on with me because the joints are the worst with sore-ness and aching),Mild, spontaneous headaches,Extreme heat sensitivity,Acne (but that could be because I literally clawed both spots open with my nails until they started gushing blood and now I keep clawing them open every morning and all the time throughout the day….so I mean..??? I’ve never dealt with acne. Idk how to deal with it. I’m just putting neosporin on at night.)

I am expecting these things to go away… The headaches, aching/soreness, and heat sensitivity could be associated with other illnesses going on with me that I’ve never dealt with before and don’t know what to expect. But I know damn well the bloating and breast swelling is from this…and I know the acne is from this, as that was confirmed by a doctor (coz I was scared about it being from something else) but I think it just hasn’t gone away because I keep clawing at it and making it bleed. If they don’t go away in a week, I’m gonna let my gyno know and see what she can do/recommends.

The first two days of this were ALMOST as rough, psychologically, as my normal period and the cramps and clotting put me in the hospital and warranted a high dosage morphine shot, 800mg of ibuprofen (and a script for it) and a hydro (and a script for it). 

The ONLY thing I’m worried about recurring other than the cramps and clotting and psychological symptoms is that… I don’t know if the physical black outs are related to my period or if they are related to my auto-immune disorder (lupus/fibro/hyperalgesia) because when I first got diagnosed with a joint-related virus, where they took x-rays that showed a virus of some sort was physically eating away my joints…I was literally blacking out for a couple seconds every 5-15 minutes. That was about a month ago. Now I have almost a full solid diagnosis, but I’ve thrown two new medications into the mix (Lyrica, which I’ve never been on before, and Topamax, which this is my 6th or 7th time being on) and a lot of new things/stressors/lifestyle changes in general… but the other day. ..maybe 3 days ago now? 2? It happened again. Blacking out for very short amounts of time…approximately 10 seconds every 5-15 minutes…but towards the end of the day, I blacked out so badly that I was out for a solid 20 minutes, give or take, and since I blacked out in the kitchen, my head either hit the tile floor or a counter when I went down and since I have a bleeding disorder AND it was head wound, even though it was barely even a surface scratch at all (it’s practically healed now, 2-3 days later), it bled badly enough in those 20 minutes or so that when my roommates came home and found me blacked out in the kitchen, there was a small pool of blood around my forehead. One of them was panicking and had me in his arms and was shouting LEON! LEON! WAKE UP! LEON! OMG ARE YOU OKAY!? WHAT HAPPENED!? CAN YOU HEAR ME!? LEON!!! Meanwhile, he turns to his boyfriend while I’m slowly coming to as he’s shaking me and shouting one of my many nickname’s at me…and he tells his bf to call 911…which is when I snapped out of it (sort of) and used a Scully catchphrase and pushed myself off of my friend and held up an accusatory finger to his boyfriend and was like …quoting that artwork of Scully in the jacket that I love, saying in a very slurred voice “Stand aside! I’m a medical doctor!” Which…lmao. I started giggling. They didn’t get the reference coz they’re not Philes… But I managed to make them understand to please not call 911… That was the last time I blacked out that day…but it was for a solid 20 minutes and I had been blacking out and throwing up all day that day…experiencing both chronic AND optical migraines simultaneously… the clots were bigger than ever and I could feel the flesh being ripped from my uterine wall and slowly oozing out of my vagina. It was the worst feeling. They were almost as big as my fist at this point. And I was so lightheaded and experiencing so much vertigo…but I have been experiencing constant vertigo and lightheadedness since this virus hit me and since we started researching into it and looking into lupus and such.

SO I DO NOT KNOW IF THE BLACKING OUT IS ASSOCIATED AT ALL WITH THE PERIOD….OR IF THE PERIOD IS ASSOCIATED WITH THE LUPUS AND SUCH WHICH IS WHAT THE BLACKING OUT IS ASSOCIATED WITH…OR IF BLACKING OUT IS JUST SEPARATE….

And Idk if this period is a one time thing…or if I’m going to get it again…because, although it is nice to experience a “normal person” version of a period, it’s STILL HELL ON EARTH. It’s nice to know my life is not in danger from a normal body function…it’s still awful and my life is in danger via my psyche and how it affects me psychologically very close to the same as my normal period the first day or two days… Idk if I can overcome it and JUST hurt myself the next time I have it.

But it seems to have…stopped…now? Today?

If it happens again next month at the same level, I’m going in to my gyno to talk about other options or to see if there’s a way to get medicaid or the state to pay to get my uterus surgically removed. The state would have paid when I was 13…sigh. Idk if they will now…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To answer your question simply? Nexplanon is supposed to stop your period and ALL associated symptoms COMPLETELY. However, as you know, every person is different and everyone will react differently. I was bleeding and did get a “normal” level period for about 5-6 days that is not entirely gone, but the bleeding has stopped now. This did not happen the first 3+ years I had my first Nexplanon. But this could be attributed to a fuckton of things going on with me (that I explained above for this reason exactly), personally, and may not have anything to do with the Nexplanon itself. 

I hope that answers everything….Coz I put some thorough af work into all of that. Lmao. But if you (or anyone) needs clarification on anything or has any other questions, Nexplanon is kinda one of my maxed out skill trees that I know a whole bunch about, having had it for over 4 years already and am on my second one now. Lol. Feel free to shoot me an ask!

[edmdma.tumblr.com/ask]

Gonna attempt to tag for triggers coz this was sorta graphic if you’re not really into medical things. Tell if you’d like these kinda posts tagged with something specific.

#personal #nexplanon #nexplanon implant #implant #birth control #bc #b c #birth #control #birthcontrol #nexplanonimplant #progesterone

[always-fall-for-fanfic]

A Failed Experiment (Asha Montel, Pt. 1)

So, technically Asha is a made up character that (If you stay tuned) you will learn is part of our version of the Wanda show, she is one of the aids to the team. This is part one of her backstory, if you hate it, I’m sorry but I hope you like it. 

Asha Montel lived alone in the small town called Kenina, she knew not of who her father was or any other family than her mother. Which only made her want to have a big family, she was an only child and, she was sick. She was diagnosed with a disease called Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis it was never known to be, first, seen in a little girl. But that is where the story takes place.

It started in the middle of the night two days after Christmas, a great way to start a new year for sure. But she woke up in the middle of the night having a fever, sweating full body, feeling so weak she felt as if she wasn’t even strong enough to get out of bed to get her mom. Until of course she, all of a sudden had to turn over the side of her bed and threw up her dinner. She felt worse after that, a headache seeping deep into her skull, her feet skidding across the floor not being able to move them up any higher. She went into her mom's room, not being able to reach the light switch, though she still hated going into her mom's room at that moment because the moon shone proudly through her window.

Giving Asha flashes of light in her eyes and she tried to use her voice though she didn’t think anything came out. In her little mind, the moon was being mean to her, taking her voice away and blinding her with momentary spots. She whimpered, she knew cause she heard that much but she couldn’t look forward at the bed, without seeing the moon and it dug into her skull.

She went to walk forward but her foot didn’t get the memo but her upper body did and she fell to her knees and looked up at the bed that was so far away and all she could do was cry at the sight cause she couldn’t make it. Her vocal whimpers were going in and out, making noise sometimes but others not and she turned on her side, more tears coming now, holding her stomach while her forehead was burning up, making her want to strip, she just couldn’t. The bright light of the moon still being seen in her vision. Her head slowly just shut itself down, making her fall into a dead sleep.

Her mother didn’t wake up until the morning but when she found her little girl on the ground she panicked and ripped her covers away running to her rescue, rushing her to the ER.

Though to confirm their fears, they would need to ask her some questions, but she was still out, her heart just barely beating. So they hooked her up, though they didn’t think she could possibly have ALS because the earliest that had ever been confirmed in a human -though it was always rare- was in a six-year-old that had been sexually abused. Asha was only four, there was no possible way her body could have caught it. It is genetically passed down or possible to get from sexual intercourse if that person has it. But she was four, never touched before and no one in her family had it. Perhaps it could’ve come from her dad’s side but to her mother's knowledge, he didn't have it, though she didn’t know much about him.

Asha knew zero to nothing about him. So she was in the dark of it all and it was what was going on with her body. But everyone assumed the four-year-old girl wouldn’t be able to bear the news. When she had woken up, not until 8 pm that next night, her mom was sitting on a chair next to her, leaning on the bed, holding her daughter's hand in hers and stroking it.

Asha went to say something, specifically, mom, but when she started too, nothing came out but air and she ripped her hand from her mothers to cough into it. Her mother jolted up and looked at her daughter, terrified of what just happened.

Asha turned to her mom, gently lowering her hand back down to the bed and looked over at her mom, a big frown on her face, her eyes watering and a small whimper forming in her throat. She practically whispered, nothing would come out higher, “Mommy, I got sick.” Asha muttered and her mom sighed through her tears.

She grabbed her hand again, “I know, baby, I know, but it’s okay. The doctors know what they’re doing.” Though they truly did not, they had no idea what to do, at all.  ALS had no cure and the doctors had never seen it in someone so young, the only medication they had was in pills and a four year couldn’t take pills so they would have to figure something out.

“It- It- it hurts.” She muttered, feeling her eye finally let a tear fall, sliding slowly down her cheek as she looks at her mom. It broke her mother's heart as her daughter spoke to her like this, she wanted to be irrational and throw something against the wall, tell the doctors ‘fuck you’ and walk away. But her baby needed help and they knew more than her about this disease she may or may not have.

“I know, baby, but don’t worry the doctors will hel-”

“Mrs, Montel, would you mind stepping out here to talk?” A doctor asked, walking into the room, eyeing Asha. The doctor was sending a chilling shiver down Asha’s spine, she didn’t like this woman already, she had a smirk and… no, she was bad and Asha could just tell.

“Oh, sure.” Asha’s mother responded, standing up and giving her daughter a small kiss on the head. “I’ll be back, in a second.” She gave a small grin and walked out with the doctor. Asha whimpered, trying to tell her mom not to go but her mom still did, Asha felt a tear go down her face. But she fell asleep again, crying.

“So, her vital signs are really abnormal and-”

“Just tell me what we can do to make her better.” Mrs. Montel cut the doctor off, not wanting to see her baby in pain anymore.

“That’s the thing, we can give her some medicine for the pain, but there’s nothing that can heal her. We haven’t, very few people have ever gotten ALS and none of them were four so we can’t do some things we might if she was an adult.”

Asha’s mother sighed but nodded along, “Whatever we have to do to save my baby girl” The nurse nodded and turned to go and confer with the other doctors.

It didn’t take Asha’s mom long to figure out that the doctors were also using Asha as an experiment. Taking blood and trying to ‘find a cure’ though that was far from the truth. Asha’s mom got her daughter out of there as soon as she possibly could. She should have sued, would have helped with providing food on the table. Though Asha couldn’t eat, not very well at least, if she did, she always threw it up. Unless it was literally a crumb or too. They had been rejected by 59 different hospitals saying they wouldn’t treat a four- almost five year old little girl for ALS, an incurable disease.

Asha’s mother had lost almost all hope, her daughter was getting worse everyday, until one time they had made it too London, hoping a different country may provide options. That had been the last 13 rejections in London, their last hope before Asha may have died. Though, thanks to one soul whom never even accepted cases like this gave it a try.

They had been ‘waiting’ for three hours when the doctor came from being in surgery, he was walking by to be somewhere else, but something about the little girl with red curly, untamed hair, fluttery eyes, pale skin, mouth slightly open- caught his eye and he stopped, walking over to the chair.

Asha’s mom sat up in a moment. “Are you the doctor?”

“I don’t think I am the doctor but I am.” He answered, looking for only a second into the mother’s eyes before kneeling down and reaching out to move some hair from the little girls face, placing the back of his hand over her forehead to see if she had a fever. He glanced back up at the girls mom.

“What does she have?” The doctor asked.

“Oh, Amyotr- uhh ALS.” Her mother stumbled over the word and the doctor, turned his head and looked back at the little girl.

“But-” The doctor stood up turning to Asha’s mom. “She looks very little the earliest ever-”

“I know. But she has ALS somehow, she’s five- I- can you help? Please no one- agh- I just.. I don’t know what to do- if.. If..” Her mother sat down in the chair next to her, putting her face into her palms. The doctor didn’t want the women to finish that sentence, so he placed his hand on her shoulder, his other hand in front of her to shake. Distraught people always made the doctor feel as if he failed and he hated it.

“I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, I will look into your daughter's case.”

#Asha #ALS #Doctor Strange #Dr. Strange #Stephen Strange #Montel #Asha's mom #marvel #Thunder-stroke #wanda show #Scarlet witch show #five #a miracle #a failed experiment #doctor #Sasha

[dietsauthority]

Meet The Essential Oil That Could Stop Cancer In Its Tracks!

Nowadays, also science verifies that particular kinds of important oils properly quit the growth of cancer, as they cause affected cells to close themselves down.

The power of necessary oils to deal with cancer cells, as well as countless various other illness, is not doubted.

The frequency of a totally healthy body varies from 62 to 78 MHz, as well as the incidence of diseases begins at 58Hz. One test of frequency showed that holding a mug of coffee in only 3 secs reduced the frequency from 66 Hz to 58 MHz, as well as it took 3 days to return to typical. In addition, researchers have actually discovered that the regularity is reduced as a result of unfavorable thoughts, while positive ones boost it by 10 MHz.

The research study carried out on one of the most prominent vital oils, like ginger, mint, lavender, lemon, grapefruit, rose, jasmine, chamomile, cinnamon, and also thyme, revealed that they have the potential to cure cancer. Scientist examined antibacterial potency as well as vitro toxicology against human cancer cell lines.

The discovery of Bruce Tanio, of Tainio Innovation as well as head of the Department of Farming at Eastern Washington College, was called Calibrated Regularity Display (CFM), and it is meant to estimate the frequencies of essential oils as well as their impact on the frequencies of people, after their application.

One such monitor is made use of in the Vital Oils lab, while the other is at Johns Hopkins University, where experts utilize it to take a look at frequencies and also their connect to various diseases.

The immunologist Mahmoud Suhail mentions that " Cancer begins when the DNA code within the cell's center becomes damaged". Consequently, necessary oils have the ability to tell the appropriate DNA code to cells.

There many kinds of essential oils, but a few of them are of bad high quality, as they have actually been incorporated with ingredients as well as alcohol throughout the artificial process of production. You must constantly utilize 100% pure therapeutic grade quality crucial oils, in order to get the desired effects.

The writer of the book The Body Electric, Robert O. Becker, M.D., validates the electric frequency of the human body, as well as its power to impact the wellness of the person.

Even Nikola Tesla stated that the removal of outdoors frequencies that conflicted in the human body will make it resistant to diseases. Likewise, Dr. Otto Warburg was a two-time Nobel Laureate as well as won the Nobel Prize for cancer research, due to his searchings for that our cells have an electric voltage.

There is no question that particular regularities could safeguard the body from illness, while others may make it prone to ailments. Furthermore, higher frequencies ruin the lower ones.

The Therapeutic grade of Vital Oils begins at 52, and mosts likely to 320 MHz, offering the complying with values: Pepper mint 78 MHz, Helichrysum 181 MHz, Lavender 118 MHz, Sandalwood 96 MHz, Ravensara 134 MHz, Incense 105 MHz, Angelica 85 MHz, Rose 320 MHz, Incense 147 MHz, German Camomile 105 MHz, Juniper 98 MHz.

All of these crucial oils have actually been discovered to provide miraculous wellness advantages, and to possess the required recovery residential properties to deal with and also prevent various health problems as well as diseases.

Research has located that thyme, jasmine, cinnamon, and also chamomile oils treat cancer, with chamomile eliminating as much as 93% of afflicted cells artificial insemination. Thyme is much more reliable, ruining up to 97% of cancer cells when it comes to breast cancer.

The journal Industrial Crops and also Products released a research study which showed that chamomile oil has potent antioxidant properties, that is, Roman chamomile oil showed the highest antioxidant activity, when compared with 11 various other sort of crucial oils, including bitter and also sweet fennel, lavender, winter season mouthwatering, thyme, rosemary, sage, French tarragon, peppermint.

Frankincense Oil

Dr. Suhail states that “Frankincense divides the 'mind' of the cancerous cell - the center - from the 'body' - the cytoplasm, and also shuts down the nucleus to stop it recreating damaged DNA codes."

This oil has monoterpenes, which are compounds that are able to kill damaged cells on the beginning, along with their development phases, so it is perfect for the treatment of cancer, no matter the time of its discovery.

This oil might revolutionize the cancer treatment, as it eliminates just cancer cells, unlike chemotherapy, which likewise eradicates healthy and balanced body cells. Dr. Suhail also includes: " There are 17 active representatives in incense crucial oil."

At the Budwig center, numerous people inform their tales and also experiences with making use of vital oils as well as their favorable result from the resist cancer.

These are several of their tales:

Five- years of age kid with mind cancer

A little kid, at the age of five, was identified with mind cancer. His parents found out regarding the essential oils therapy and saved his life! This young boy had a decline of incense, alternated with a decrease of sandalwood put on the feet bottom, and some lavender oil to the wrist.

Bone Marrow Degeneration

A woman, called Ellen, has a bone marrow degeneration and also polyscithemiarubravera. She additionally tried the treatment with necessary oils, as well as these are her words: " After 3 months my blood examinations are revealing enormous improvements positioning most pens right into the regular range!

I have actually not had to do 2 of the last 3 phlebotomies that I was having every 2 weeks and are currently every month or longer! I am feeling like a million bucks as well as not resemble I am at fatality's door! Do these oils and also have faith that this will function. It does."

Breast Cancer

Another female utilized frankincense essential oil to treat breast growth, as well as after some period of time, her medical professionals can not find also a trace of cancer cells! Namely, after a surgical removal of her bust growths, she made use of lemongrass and also incense, applying it on the bust, on a regular basis. After half a year, she took place a check up, as well as her medical professional told her the good information- her cancer cells has disappeared!

Terminal liver cancer

The spouse of a lady in Long Coastline was diagnosed with liver cancer cells, yet doctors claimed it was so established, that a surgical treatment was not an option.

Yet, this lady has actually become aware of the therapy with 100% pure frankincense oil, as well as she suggested its usage. On a daily basis, she used this oil over the liver area, and also under the tongue of her husband.

After a long time, their examination showed that the growths have actually started to shrink, and also just a few months later on, the medical professionals recommended a surgical treatment. They removed cancer cells, along with 3/4 of his liver, and also today, this man enjoys his life and also lives a pleased as well as healthy and balanced life.

Cervical Cancer

" My friend just contacted us to tell me that she learnt that her sis's cervical cancer came back for the 2nd time. She was arranged today to have her womb removed. When she discovered, she sent her sis wintergreen as well as incense.

She advised her mommy to make certain she applied the wintergreen as well as incense under of feet every 3 to 4 hours for the pain in addition to using directly on her abdomen. A week ago, the unhealthy cells were still turning up in her blood work. Today [much less compared to a month after very first starting the oils] was her surgical procedure to eliminate her uterus removed as well as they could not discover any cancer cells."

Bladder Cancer

Jackie Hogan was additionally detected with a rare bladder cancer, and also physicians advised a surgical elimination of the bladder. Yet, she also found out about the amazing residential or commercial properties of frankincense oil, found by the scientists at the University of Oklahoma, especially when incorporated with sandalwood oil.

This blend aided her reward her condition and also enjoy her health and wellness once again. Specialists state that "Frankincense crucial oil might stand for a prospect on a growing checklist of all-natural substances selectively getting rid of cancer cells."

Lung Stage 4 - transition to bones, spine, ribs, hips, pelvis

The mom of Bebe had malignant growths in the lungs, and cancer has actually spread out to the ribs, shoulders, bones, spine, hips, and hips. Four months after a therapy with important oils, her cancer cells were quickly going away. She started operating in her garden as well as also intended her next getaway. and months after the diagnosis that she was to pass away really quickly, she was in superb health, and her cancer was completely gone.

Bebe informed the treatment: She took incense oil openly on every couple of hours, topically, on the affected body components, as well as used it on the feet bottom. For far better results, you can additionally drop a bit under the tongue.

Skin

" I opted for a routine eye examination in February 2013. The Dr informed me the growth over my eye is exactly what I had presumed a form of skin degeneration: basil cell cancer cells. Yikes! One year prior to that eye examination I was at the Dermatologist workplace to have a few suspicious places eliminated from my face, neck and back.

Having gone via that invasive experience lead me to ask is there a more secure method to remove this place (mind you this area is right above my eye). I did a bit of reading concerning vital oil use for skin cancer and it appeared much less invasive than dermatologist plus I did not need to miss time from job. I got a container of Incense and also used it as advised topically 3 times a day and also did 2 declines under my tongue morning as well as night.

The first week no actual substantial change simply a tingling feeling because area after using topically and taking it inside. The 2nd week I did discover it getting smaller. Throughout the third week, the area began to ooze a bit however it was getting smaller sized. The fourth week is when it appeared to IMPLODE on itself and oozed more but still it was getting smaller sized.

The fifth week it was much, much smaller sized and also developed a scab. Week 6 the scab fell off while washing my face as well as was the dimension of a small white head. In 6 weeks a big place was lowered to the size of a pin head all from using and ingesting a crucial oil - Frankincense. I was ASTOUNDED, AMAZED and THRILLED!!!! Important oils functioned for me !!!"

Throat

The good friend of a male had problem with throat deterioration, which was rapidly spreading to various other body areas. A year back, he learnt more about the incense oil as well as its power as well as started the treatment. Today, he has received the great information that he no more experienced the disease!

Basal cell

" My buddy's papa had Basic cell developments on his nose. It had actually experienced the density of his nostril as well as the oncologist wished to eliminate a big section of the nostril, to his upper lip and also over a finger size right into his cheek, by the time he contacted me.

I had not collaborated with cancer cells prior to with the oils and also wanted to aid as much as feasible. He also eliminated sugar from his diet plan, raised water consumption, consumed extra raw foods as well as believed he could beat this.

Within a pair weeks, it appeared closed, an additional week as well as the weeping quit completely as well as the inflammation around the area started lightening. After 6 weeks, that side of his nose looked much healthier than the various other untouched side !! That was 15 months ago and also he has had no signs of it returning."

Prostate

Another male had a buddy that was detected with prostate cancer. He started making use of important oils, and after 3-4 months, he went to see his physician, and also he informed him that his cancer cells has totally disappeared.

Pancreatic

Another guy told another fascinating tale concerning the potential of crucial oils: "A buddy had pancreatic deterioration and also was given 3-4 weeks. He did the following, 3 drops frankincense, 1 drop each lemongrass, lavender, peppermint, sandalwood and also all-natural remedies. He is now in fantastic health ... It's been 8 months currently."

Melanoma

" I applied frankincense early morning as well as evening as well as covered with a band-aid. In 3 days the mole had shrunk. Day 5 it hemorrhaged a little and fifty percent diminished. Day 7, gone! I had a little of pink skin and I worried it was a mark.

A few days later, entirely gone! My hubby had a stage 4 deadly melanoma eliminated in 2014 from his back ... one more cancer malignancy came up on his nose ... before we started utilizing vital oils we did radiation on that one. It has since expanded back ... and we have because become educated making use of essential oils. He began making use of lavender frankincense, as well as Immortelle on the melanoma and also it is SHRINKING!"

Leukemia

Another young boy, who experienced a second leukemia reoccurrence of leukemia, began integrating radiation treatment and essential oils. He went right into remission with an increased speed and also stayed clear of all the damaging effects of the treatment.

#diet #health and wellness #liquid diet #wellness

[healthandfitnessrecipes-blog]

Very Funny, God

https://healthandfitnessrecipes.com/?p=4508

My mom hates it when I rank our pets, but Brooke is my favorite. She is sweet and gentle.

          When I called my newest specialty pharmaceutical company at 4:59 p.m. on Friday (obnoxious, I know) I quickly learned that my insurance would not be covering one of my recently prescribed long-term medications. Thankfully, the very understanding pharmacist I was speaking with adopted a deeper level of patience when I confirmed my 1999 birth year and he realized that I was a fresh soul in the confusing world of medical systems. He supported my decision to table the discussion until after the weekend, in order to allow me time to talk with my mother. On Monday, I found myself jotting down extensive instructions about my newest prescriptions with a shaky hand, teetering in between feeling capable and unprepared. Unless I felt like paying a serious upcharge to have the pharmaceutical company include the necessary supplies, I would need to carve out time to find my way to a drugstore within two or three days. Every time I thought the dramatic warnings about drug interactions and potential side effects were over, there were more of them lurking in the wings, prepared to challenge my sanity and composure.           "Would you like to speak with a pharmacist again?" the second employee on the line asked after I expressed some confusion about one of the medications. Do you have a chaplain available? I wanted to ask her, despite knowing how ridiculous the question would be. My concerns did not stem from a lack of understanding so much as an alarming suspicion that God was leaving me to fend for myself with scribbled down, misspelled prescription names in the margins of my planner. "No thank you," I responded instead, wondering whether or not the slightly broken quality of my voice was transferring through the phone, "but I appreciate it."

          The Monday conversation with the specialty pharmacy was my third or fourth medical phone call of the day, and I had just raced through the hospital app on my phone to grab an appointment off of a waitlist that was released into the portal just minutes earlier. I needed the appointment, yet still felt sick to my stomach about the notion of competing for it with other patients who probably need it just as much. I do not want to participate in this capitalistic system where some people receive prompt treatment and some do not, and at the same time I do not know how to back out of it in the name of these serious ethical concerns when my body is breaking down.           On top of the medical coordination exhaustion, it was a Monday, which is academically my busiest day of the week, packed full of six hours of classes. I had slept very little over the weekend due to back and hip pain, and I did not have the energy to deal with a remote specialty pharmacy. My fatigue this week has been severe, especially in the late afternoons and evenings, to the point where I have had to drag myself to classes, worried that I might collapse or need to lie down along the way. It is so frustrating that I could cry, except that crying would take entirely too much energy. When the fatigue is particularly debilitating, I have to force myself to speak while I hang out with my friends, each syllable adding another weight that crushes into my brain and body. Getting words out feels like it will shut down my system. Given the context, it will not surprise you that on Monday, after I finished up my phone calls and appointment rearranging, I found myself contemplating the concept of Sabbath, and more specifically how the significance of Sabbath changes if you are chronically ill.

Meet Eleanor, aka Ellie, aka Flotus. She is talkative and feisty.

          These were desperate times. I legitimately considered asking a public preacher a few questions about pain and rest and theology when I passed by him while leaving my final class of the day, a sign that I was truly losing my mind. Luckily, I remembered that I did not feel like someone putting their enormous palm on my head and casting out the "demon of arthritis" (it seems that in the context of an autoimmune disease the demon would be me) or insisting that my Planned Parenthood laptop sticker was the reason for my illness, so I decided to continue my policy of never engaging with public preachers under any circumstances. Some questions are less disturbing than the responses they are bound to provoke.           I have a confession to make: in Building Chapels, I mentioned that it makes me uncomfortable when people pray for my physical health, but what I did not consider when writing that post, and what a friend pointed out to me shortly thereafter, is that I do often find myself typing out online prayer requests to a convent (or two... okay three) in the United Kingdom. There is something inexplicably comforting about knowing that there are dozens of holy women praying for me from an ocean away, even when I am not brave enough to ask for those prayers in my own communities.           On Saturday I met a priest in the grocery store after I opened the refrigerator case containing all of the non-dairy milks. I was having a lot of pain, particularly in my back and hips, and I had just submitted a prayer request form to a convent a few hours prior (I feel like I need to clarify that these correspondences are most definitely not an everyday thing). I needed the vanilla almond milk off of the very top shelf for a batch of vegan lemon blueberry muffins I was baking for church, but it was too high for me to reach. The priest spotted my dilemma and quietly offered his much taller stature, retrieving the carton for me and placing it into my shopping basket.           As soon as I saw his clerical collar, I wanted to assure him that the muffins I would bake with the almond milk were for a sacred place full of people who blow me away on the daily with their commitments to love one another and the freeness with which they extend compassion, but that seemed altogether unnecessary, because ultimately he had no stake in the destination of the milk. Furthermore, I think a taller person helping a shorter person in the grocery store is more of an act of human kindness than a priestly obligation. I wonder where these lines are drawn, or if they should even be drawn at all.

Our little dog, Lexi, (featuring my face when Hannah tried to explain the training technique we are using with Dante to me).

          Still, I did think it was appropriate that it was a priest who showed up in the moment I needed help, even for a task without any sort of direct religious component. Very funny, God, I imagined myself saying to the heavens, in the mostly grateful, mildly sarcastic tone of someone who is speaking casually with an old friend. I imagined God telling me that there are more holy people in the world than just the nuns of the UK, and that if I would just be a bit braver I would discover the people all around me who will listen to me in person and who will pray for me just as earnestly. Most people probably do not have to consider whether or not they should branch out from convents located thousands of miles away, but I like to think that we all have our own challenges.           At this point if you were to sum up this post you might observe, You considered asking a specialty pharmacy if they had a chaplain available, you came a hair away from approaching a public preacher with theological questions, you regularly submit online prayer requests to British nuns, and you almost told a priest in the grocery store about the churchly intentions of your almond milk. All of these things are true, though I will note that 3 out of the 4 are almost-experiences, and it is also true that when you put them all together I sound a bit (very?) odd. Perhaps these are the sort of experiences that I should have slowly revealed instead of dumping them all out at once. But I am coping, and sometimes coping follows no particular patterns or logic, and trying to do so within a religious context is extra difficult sometimes and hopefully extra worth it in the end.           I do not encounter chaplains, preachers, nuns, and priests every time I leave my dorm room, but sometimes I do feel as though I cross paths with them more frequently than most of my peers do. Perhaps I am just hyperaware of their presence, wondering if they have some sort of secret to offer, some piece of hope that I am incapable of finding on my own. Perhaps I just find it comforting to know that they have asked themselves the same questions that I do, and that by the very nature of their careers they demonstrate a willingness to look into the face of mystery and uncertainty. It is just now occurring to me that I have been consumed in thinking about my religion lately, finding fragments of it in phone calls with specialty pharmacies, in frantic Mondays that cry out for Sabbath Tuesdays, in teary-eyed walks to the drugstore, in almond milk purchases. Perhaps this heightened awareness of my faith has been obvious based on my last several posts, but it is something that I have just now recognized.

Dante is thriving. His ears are an inspiration. His face could not be cuter. 

          Do you have a chaplain available? It is a question I wish I could ask in almost every setting as I continue learning what it means to love the people around me while being physically bombarded with reminders that I exist within a body that does not love me. Am I my body? Is my body me? These are questions I wish God would answer, so that I could know whether I am fighting against my body or fighting for it. Will everything stop hurting one day? It is a question that I suspect I already know the answer to, but this has yet to stop me from seeking constant confirmation that one day all pain will disappear.           Very funny, God, I think to myself with varying degrees of sarcasm, not really expecting God to take note of either my appreciation or despair. On the rare occasion that I do stop to imagine a response, I see a warm smile, the smile of everyone I already love and all of those I will love wrapped up in one, and I feel a hug that lifts me out of fatigue and pain, its eagerness softened only by a humble sigh of gentleness, and I listen as the words that I have repeatedly used alongside humor transform into a sacred phrase I have been waiting my whole life to hear, "Very funny indeed."

Credits: Original Content Source

[breezles]

Really lengthy life story thing under the cut..a lot of negativity and just a big fat idk what to do anymore. But I got a bunch of cleaning supplies to deep clean the house tomorrow because nobody touches it in cleaning but me!!!! 

You know I am really tired of living with the people I do now. My mom, my dad, my brother(is okay in some ways lazy fuck in others) and my moms boyfriend. It’s a horrific combination because of so many different reasons. 

One being my Dad ALWAYS having something to say, muttering asshole things under his breath about everyone. Has anger issues, flips the fuck out if shit doesnt go his way, complains on everything that is or isnt. Yells all the time if he’s not stoned. Gives me emotional whiplash, and never was a “Dad” or “Father figure” in my life. Not contributing to household things, like the list can go on and on honestly. He’s an angry asshole all the time. A good example for the sake of this; “Did you put the clothes in the dryer yet?” and I respond “Not yet but I will” and it only being an hour since. “They’re going to smell like mildew now” or “Did you feed your cats yet?” and if I answer no because I have a specific time I feed them every day that he is clearly aware of, he goes “They’re starving, they’re meowing at the door, why do you even have them?? You dont even care.” He thinks they need food every time they meow and thats why they’ve gained weight after the fifty fucking times I tell him to leave the feeding to me so I can monitor how much and when they eat. (Not 5min later he literally asks me to go put the clothes in the dryer) He also comments about how shitty it is here, and how he wants to leave. Kudos bro go for it. (Also while typing this is when the laundry shit happened, and it’s been about 10min and he finally got up to do it himself because I wasn’t moving fast enough) Also aggressive and patronizing, only talks a certain way to me, and like a normal person to my brother or moms bf. 

Moms bf; Constantly stomping through the house huffing and grunting like a wounded animal, slamming doors or cabinets, making inhuman noises that sound gross and disturbing, because he has no sense that other people live here that don’t have doors or a room to sleep in. Has no consideration at all.. Constantly calls off work at least once a week because he doesn’t want to get up. I wonder how he’s not fired yet. He’s admitted that he has nothing to look forward to anymore, when he gets home from work so he sleeps for days on end, getting more and more lazy. Has anger issues also if Mom tries to get him up for work. Has thrown things before, not at anyone but in general. Also doesn’t do any household chores like cleaning, unless on the very rare occasion dog shit outside. (Same with dad on this) 

Mom; I love her, she has a lot of health issues to deal with that I have tried time and time again to help her with but she sleeps so so SO much that it’s pretty much negatively effecting her health when she should be more focused on maintaining her condition. Never calls to make appointments, avoids it, runs out of her medication then freaks out when she can’t get it because she has to make a follow up appointment for the doctor to represcribe it. She also has whiplash anger, always complains about something being eaten that she goes to eat, which over time has pretty much made me not eat anything in the house except for an occasional sandwich or quesadilla so I’m not to blame for it. (Sounds shitty doesnt it) Doesn’t clean anymore except when she feels like it, can’t remember the last time she made dinner. Hoards up in her room taking pain medication(thats not the prescribed ones) for her Neuralgia. I feel like her mental structure is also declining because she forgets a lot or gets confused easily. Suffers from, diabetes, no thyroid, high blood pressure, possible past stroke, and congestive heart failure and gum disease. Takes medication for all of it, but diet and activity are counter active. Someone with CHF won’t live very long unless they take good care of it Even then the life expectancy is less than 5 years. It keeps me up at night, and often cry because I have to prepare for Moms death at any point from here on. 

Brother; He’s not really here a lot of the time, in a sense he’s sort of lucky he has friends and a social life to get out of the house until he comes home to sleep for work at 12-3am at night. When he is home he doesn’t do anything but sit on his phone and bitch if I ask him to help me clean anything or need something. Forgets to pick me up from work all the time, forgets a lot if it doesn’t involve his friends or his car. Doesn’t do his own laundry and hasn’t cleaned his own room in over a year. Hasn’t washed dishes or taken the trash out or anything home/chore related in months to a year.  Thinks that his share of rent and utilities is all the help he needs to do. (which I am greateful for him helping me help the house financially because his job is a good one). I often tell him from the bottom of my heart everything that I think about, tell him about Mom, tell him it’ll only be me and him down the road for each other. In hopes it sombers him if only a little. I just wish he’d improve as a person in some places. 

Myself: I don’t do much myself, except for working as much as I can. Each night I get home I do a routine of taking care of the animals because Moms bf has stopped feeding the fish he said “were his” even though I maintain and keep the tank clean and running. Dad feeds the dogs, but I bathe them and walk them, brush them etc. Same with the rest of the pets. After they’re taken care of I clean the kitchen if its gross from everyone being in and out of it all day. Take the trash out because it gets piled and everyone thinks “Fuck it” After that I do laundry if needed, and then hop on my computer to do my usual browsing. I’ve started looking for a 2nd job because I can’t afford anything except the bare basics and it leaves me broke 20days out of a month. I’ve also figured out a financial plan to keep the bills paid and rent on time because Mom got us 1000 behind on rent and our utilities would get shut off now and again. We’ve been fine for 3months straight on everything now and have caught up and everyone now pays equal amounts for everything. (Now if I could only get everyone equally sharing housework,  but i’ve barked up that tree before)

In a few hours I plan to deep clean the entire house because it smells like body odor, dog and dirt and dog hair has accumulated since the weather is changing doggos are shedding so it’s a given. I also can’t remember the last time the house was thoroughly cleaned, and not just a tidy and wipe down so it’s due and I know nobody will want to help and think what I’m doing is stupid. But i’m just tired, im tired of feeling like im taking care of child adults, of living in so much negativity I want nothing more then place myself in my own home/apartment/studio whatever I can. I want to take care of myself and my cats. I want to be a functioning person not fighting depression. Everything has built up and piled and piled and I feel so worn down and defeated because I feel like I’m the only one who gives a shit and is trying to maintain some sense, but at the same time I just want to fucking quit. 

I’m afraid that if I leave, if ever, everything here will fall apart. Dogs won’t be cared for, the house will fall into further disseray, Mom won’t be properly cared for and die quicker than she is already. But I keep telling myself you can’t help those who wont help themselves, or dont want it. Just think about myself I say, get out of here build your own life in comfort and security and peace of mind. 

I financially cannot get anywhere in life, I’ve had to teach myself to be an adult from the age of 16 to be responsible, but no one ever taught me financial health. Or security or w/e. I dont know what I’m doing wrong, I dont know where to even begin, I dont know how to get out of here on my own anymore. I’m scared I’ll be stuck in this sickening environment. I dont know who to turn to, where to get to that takes my cats. Even if I found them homes, or placed them in foster care, I still can’t afford to live anywhere on my own because of my own bills. 

what the fuck all of this circulates in my head. I dont know what to do anymore or where to go or what to fucking research I just want help, but im scared I wont know how to take any help, because I’ve engrained in my fucking head that I need to do anything I can to earn the right for someones help that I cant have it unless I’ve earned it. 

I just want to cry, I dont know what to do..I just dont know anymore. I’ve lost touch with my sense of self, I don’t see friends anymore, the only people I see outside of home are the people I work with, I have no life except the one I keep for my pets here. Thats it. 

#breefuckingrantsonherhomelife #im so tired #im so done and fed up