#how in the hell am i not dizzy as hell and even sicker????

[everyfandomever]

how am i not starving rn

[crazycatsiren]

Mother Lorelei, I apologize in advance, but I need your advice.

My birth mother is disabled. She suffers from severe chronic pain and fatigue, and physical exertion, unsurprisingly, causes her to feel far worse. But it often seems as if she prides herself on pushing herself past her limits despite that, and that she thinks because she's always forcing herself to do more than she should to her own detriment, that should be the standard everyone else holds themself to. Any less, and you've disappointed her.

While I find her willpower admirable, and I understand the pain she goes through daily to get things done, I wish she wouldn't expect me to do the same. I don't suffer from the same illnesses as she does, but even so, I'm incredibly weak, and have next to no energy or stamina at all. Even walking across my school's campus can get exhausting and painful, so any form of actual labor is pretty much impossible for me; almost immediately, I start to feel incredibly dizzy with vertigo and and feel faint, my muscles begin to ache and/or start to give out, and I become exhausted and unstable. This is to say nothing of the post-exertional malaise. I'm beginning to suspect that I myself am chronically ill, but no one seems to know what's wrong with me, other than that I'm an absolute wet noodle of a person.

Whether it's because I'm as weak-willed as I am physically pathetic, or because I, unlike my mother, know my limits and refuse to push myself to a breaking point, I always fail to "do my best" or "put in the effort" enough when I have to help do physically demanding tasks (like moving/carrying things out of storage, for a relevant example). I'm consistently below my mother's expectations, and she gets upset at me every time, saying how I need to try harder and that I'm being dramatic because I don't want to put in the work to get anything done. It's true that I'm not very good at doing these things and that I never get much done, but even though I give up so easily by her standards, I work my hardest until I quit. It's emotionally as well as physically painful and exhausting at times. But she keeps telling me I'm being lazy, and I don't know whether to believe her anymore. Do you think I'm in the wrong for not trying hard enough, or that I'm being lazy? Once again, I'm very sorry to complain and overshare to you in your ask box, but I'm not sure who else I can ask.

Internalized ableism is the devil, that's for sure. Not only does it distort your own perception of what's reasonable for you, but also it greatly skews your expectations of others.

And I think your mother is filled to the brim with internalized ableism.

Believe me, I tried the mind over matter method. All it did was made me sicker. It didn't make me any more abled, and it didn't change one bit of the reality that I will most likely never be abled again.

Capitalism glorifies grind culture. Anything less than pushing yourself past the breaking point is deemed unacceptable, and the solution is you just have to try harder.

It doesn't work this way. It never has and never will. And people keep wondering why so many are burnt out, even though the answer is literally right in front of them, and everyone knows it.

Our society doesn't want to allow anybody to become disabled. It's become so deeply ingrained into every aspect of life, that it's almost human nature. All the toxic positivity and inspiration porn sure as hell don't help.

[stayevildarling]

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right Pt 2

Part 1, Part 3

word count: 3.5k

warnings: brief mention of dizziness and feeling sick, mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: Part two! I will write one more part, potentially two, kind of depends. I hope everyone enjoys this story so far!

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @mrsdeanhoward , @alexajbitar , @in-cordelias-coven , @kenzbro , @loverofallthingssarah , @twistedpoeticjustice , @billiebeanhoward , @minaslittleone , @lilypadscoven , @vintagepaulson , @ninaahs , @whitelotus00 , @httpfiftyshadesofgay

After getting back to your desk and quickly sitting down as it felt like your legs might just give up on you, heart still racing fast and mind filled with thoughts, you try and focus on the tasks ahead again. Your boss instructed you to make arrangements for the new partnership with Kineros Robotics and as you do some research on their website instead of clicking the Company History link or the product one to actually write the article, your thoughts trail off.

As a result, you click on ''Employees'' and you recognize the two men from earlier. One of them is called Jeff Pfister and the other one is called Mutt Nutter and you chuckle at that name. You learn they are heads of the company and then you see HR and there she is Wilhemina. In the photo she seems cold and harsh and not even in your worst nightmares you imagined meeting her would be like it was today.

First of all, you have trouble believing she works and lives in the same city you do now like it must be fate right? You moved and changed jobs and you find yourself in the same city? Your new firm working together with hers? and you running into her after thinking of her earlier while listening to some lyrics in your lunch break?

It all seems too good to be true and it definitely must be the universe sending you both some kind of signal. As you type out some words on your computer, actually trying to get some work done, you feel how shaky you are and that you can't even type properly. Taking a deep breath, you try and remind yourself to say calm and that this feeling will pass and reminding yourself this is just the result from today's events.

As you lean down to get your bag to drink something you see stars and you can feel dizziness approaching, so you slowly make your way to the employee's bathroom, also feeling slightly sick. Standing by the sink, you let some cold water run down your wrists and you also splash some cold water on your face to try and calm yourself down.

Obviously, it would affect you, seeing her again so unexpectedly but you didn't think it would hit you like this and feel like a tornado just rippled through your life. It feels like all this time since Wilhemina walked out of your life, the pain never truly stopped, and even though you had healed since, the scars opened again today.

After a while, you hear the bathroom door open and you hold onto the sink feeling sicker by the second. ''Oh dear Y/N are you okay?'' you hear one of your co-workers ask and rush over to you.

''Yeah I- I think I didn't drink enough'' you say and she offers to take you home but you don't wanna bother her. ''I think I will be fine'' you say and after drinking some water she got for you, you feel less dizzy but still completely exhausted.

''I will talk to Mr. Odell'' she says and before you can protest she is gone. After a few moments, she comes back with your bag and coat and guides you outside the building, and takes you to your car.

''Are you sure you should drive?'' she asks concerned but you reassure her you are fine. ''Thank you'' you say and she leaves with a smile and says ''Just rest and if you need anything just call'' and with that she leaves and you are left, sitting in your car and you let out a deep breath you have been holding in for way too long.

You start your engine, knowing deep down that you are in no state to actually drive and that you probably shouldn't but at the same time you just want to get back into the comfort of your own apartment, as soon as possible and lie down.

The drive doesn't take too long and with the window open, music very quietly playing in the background, and the occasional sips of water, you manage to get home quicker than you initially thought. You drop your bag and coat in the hallway and after shutting the door, you head straight to the bedroom, abandoning all your thoughts and things and practically falling into bed.

The dizziness quickly subceeds as you feel your body now adjusting to the comfort of your mattress, soft pillow, and blanket you managed to wrap loosely around your tired body. Sleep quickly consumes you, your body needing rest after this exhausting day, the thought of the redhead, causing this reaction, abandoned for now but she is here yet again to haunt you in your dreams, moments after falling asleep.

''No no no please don't leave'' you scream, currently caught in a nightmare, another sign your body and brain are still processing today's events. It feels like your personal hell, as you seem to relive the worst moment of your life over and over again and that's Wilhemina walking out of your life just in different scenarios and moments but it hurts in every form of it. Tears stream down your face as you beg her not to go but each time she leaves and it feels like dying every time.

The next morning:

As soon as your eyes snap open after hearing a faint sound coming from the other end of your apartment, you feel exhausted, the last night not providing you with the kind of sleep you needed for your body and mind to fully relax and be ready for another busy and packed day ahead.

Sighing, you rub your eyes and slowly get out of bed, your feet automatically following the source of the noise, that initially woke you up and as you realize it's your phone, you are somewhat glad for the distraction as it pulled you out of several nightmares. As you finally reach your bag, you retrieve your phone and you feel relieved as you realize it's 6:30 am and you didn't miss work. At the same time, your heart skips a beat as you see Mr. Odell's number this early in the morning.

''He-hello?'' you ask slightly dumbfounded why he would be calling you at this time in the morning. ''Ahh Miss Y/L/N I was just checking to see if you feel better'' he starts but you can already feel he is after something as this seems like a small excuse to call you. ''Yes I am, thank you'' you quickly reply, waiting for his actual reason behind calling you this early.

''Listen, the contracts with Kineros Robotics are finished, I need you to go and collect them with Ms. Venable this morning'' he instructs and you can already hear him typing away on his computer. ''Of course'' you reply before he says a few 'Thank yous' and ending the call.

Closing your eyes, you try and take a deep breath and remind yourself that everything will be okay and to keep the raging storm of emotions at bay but somehow the thought of seeing Wilhemina again terrifies you and makes your stomach flip but at the same time there are so many 'What ifs' and unanswered questions, still filling your brain and causing you to overthink.

Still feeling sleepy and also exhausted from the night before, you decide to have a quick shower, before getting ready and adjusting your usual work attire in the mirror, styling your hair, and applying makeup. The only difference today is that no amount of makeup could cover or hide the bags under your eyes and how exhausted you look.

Taking a deep breath and grabbing your things, as well as a coffee, you leave your apartment and head over to Kineros Robotics. Somehow, even though it seemed like on the entire car ride there you didn't even pay attention to anything, the day before you, you somehow did as you find yourself in the familiar parking lot, a while later.

As you walk in, heading straight towards the familiar corridor, walking past the front desk, you don't realize at first, that the entire building is dead quiet, your own thoughts too loud and only as you pass a clock on the wall, you realize it's seven thirty am and probably the reason for the silence and no one there yet.

Part of yourself feels relieved as you hear some clicking on a computer keyboard and without being able to see her yet, you know Wilhemina is already there. You aren't actually that surprised because the redhead used to be the first one in the office every morning, at your old firm where you worked together, always the first to open up and last to close up, really focussed on her work and taking it seriously.

As she hears footsteps approach, Wilhemina looks up confused about who would already be here at this time because she is always the first one and her idiot bosses wouldn't be awake at this time. ''Y/N?'' she asks confused as she sees you enter, stopping whatever she is working on, and for a moment you just look at her unable to say a word.

She scans each one of your features and by your posture and facial expression she knows you are not okay, she used to hold you whenever you weren't feeling well or after a nightmare and she can read you better than anyone else.

''What- what are you doing here this early?'' she asks confused and you can tell she hesitated at first before asking and you notice her voice still sounds dominant but it sounds slightly softer at the same time.

Finally clearing your throat and approaching her desk, ignoring your sweaty palms or heart beating faster, you compose yourself and manage to form a reply.

''I'm here to pick up the files and contracts for Mr. Odell'' you say, still feeling intimidated by her burning gaze. It seems as if she is staring straight into your soul, reading and knowing every single detail about you like the sleepless nights, nightmares, or how she still haunts you every single day.

''Very well'' she replies and nods and she retrieves her cane, gripping hard around the snake handle, before walking over to a cabinet and getting out some folders with the needed documents. As she has to slightly bend down, you notice the same expression on her face, even though you can only see half of it. Wilhemina always hid her pains from you, even back then, she would reassure and promise and pull the most adorable faces, promising she is okay but you knew deep down by the furrow in her eyebrow and how quickly her eyes shut close, whenever she had to move her back the slightest, she was lying.

It takes her moments to gather the needed documents and you find a little smile playing on your lips because despite what happened to the woman you used to know so well, it makes you feel calm that deep down she is still the same organized and hard-working Wilhemina she always had been. It feels like a glimpse of hope, a little ray of sunshine in the middle of a storm.

However, your smile quickly fades as Wilhemina turns around, her gaze lingering on you as she walks towards you. Her expression is stern and cold, no emotion visible and your little glimpse of hope vanishing again. Slowly the realization sinks in that no matter what might have happened, there will be no way to ever get back to how things used to be and this doesn't just cause your throat to go dry, hands shaking uncontrollably again but also for your heart to beat out of your chest, the feeling of anxiety slightly creeping it's ugly way back into your brain.

The woman standing across you, that used to be so much more to you than a stranger, scans your features, noticing the bags under your eyes and the sadness radiating off you. She can look behind the facade, the forced and polite smile but the Wilhemina currently standing in front of you doesn't know how to reach you anymore, as deep down she knows that she lost you long ago and along with you, the only source of light in her life, ever.

Snapping out of it, Wilhemina hands you the files not once averting your gaze and it feels like you might just die from the force her brown observing eyes have on you. As she hands you the files, you reach for it, trying to hide the shaking of your hands but the redhead instantly notices, her gaze finally leaving your eyes.

''Thank you, M-'' you start to say out of a habit, as you were so used to calling her that nickname before but you stop yourself just in time. You give her a polite smile that she doesn't return, her face completely lacking any emotions or giving you any indication on how she is feeling, either about this interaction or seeing you again in general.

Slowly, you turn back around, the same polite smile on your face and a little nod as a form of saying goodbye to her, not expecting to see her again in the near future, as Mr. Odell's assistant would be back tomorrow and you wouldn't be working on this anymore either way. As soon as you turn around and are about to head to the exit, back through the same corridor, your smile fades, face almost crumpling, the pain of seeing the woman you love change into this person completely lacking emotions and reminding you more of a robot than a human, which technically is fitting, considering the company you are currently in and the work they do.

Just as you are about to leave, you suddenly feel a hand reach for your wrist. You flinch momentarily and freeze, as you feel the material of the cold gloves on your skin. Instantly you are reminded of her touch lingering on your skin before when the two of you were still in each other's arms and lives. Her hands had never felt this strange and cold before, as they used to have the sole purpose of making you feel warm and loved, either by holding you or making you feel beautiful in other ways.

Finally, you snap your eyes open as a wave of emotions hit you, part of you wants to cry, part of you is angry about the way she left, heartbroken even being in the same room and just deeply concerned and worried about the redhead standing behind you and holding onto you still as if she was scared if she let go, she would lose you all over again.

''Y/N wait'' Wilhemina whispers and as you turn around, now inches apart, you don't notice the way her voice went soft and she let go of her grip after noticing you flinched a bit at the sensation. The two of you instantly lock eyes and it feels like so much is being said, simply through the locking of your eyes.

Despite the redhead trying to hide her true emotions, internally reminding herself who she is and who she has to be, to keep her perfect and cold appearance intact, she crumbles underneath the bottling up emotions and the way it made her feel to see you again. You notice the inner battle she is fighting, her eyes turning a darker and lighter shape with each thought inside Wilhemina. It feels as if the soft Mina is trying to fight her way out of this darker version, wanting to say so many things to you, but at the same time fighting with everything she has left inside her.

As you stand there frozen, just watching the woman standing across from you, your own emotions take over as tears prickle in your eyes and your heart loudly begins thumping in your chest. You look at the redhead, part of you begging her to speak up, to finally let those bottled up emotions go as you can practically feel them radiating off her. For a split second you have hope, as her mouth parts and you expect something, an explanation, an apology or something that could soothe the many questions and aching in your heart, that started with the day she walked out of your shared apartment.

However, the battle inside Wilhemina is too strong, the darker side having ruled her little kingdom of emotions too long that in result, soft Wilhemina, the woman you used to know and fell in love with, has no chance of winning or voicing herself. You sigh in defeat, as you realize there is no chance to get even a simple explanation out of Wilhemina. ''It's okay'' you mumble, after giving her enough time to speak and realizing that it's too late.

Your ex-girlfriend watches, as you turn your back to her again, this time not stopping in your tracks and this time you being the one to walk out of her workplace and life. She stands there frozen, unable to move for a while as the soft Mina is utterly heartbroken as a small part is still inside fighting somewhere. It takes her several minutes to snap out of her state after hearing her two bosses walk in with silly faces, clearly wanting something from the redhead again and needing her attention. She snaps out of it, turning around and walking towards her desk, the same cold expression on her face as if nothing had happened.

A while later, you sit by your desk after handing your boss the documents and unavoidably handing him the key to your connection to Wilhemina, as from tomorrow on Mr. Odell's assistant will be working on the Kineros Robotics case again, like she was supposed to. You try and focus on the tasks ahead but avert your gaze from your computer, looking out the window and watching as the clouds keep the sun from shining and blessing the city with sunlight. Your mind can't help but wander to Wilhemina and the question what had happened to her in the first place to change into the person you had met again yesterday.

Feeling a little shiver run down your spine, you try and ignore the thoughts, accepting fate and believing that fate always has a plan in the end. ''Maybe we aren't meant to be after all'' you think to yourself, before focussing your attention on your tasks and work for the day again, unaware that in a similar, much more purple office, on the other side of the city Wilhemina is sitting by her desk, her mind occupied by you.

[treksickfic]

The City on the Edge of Forever

I’m so excited to share this with you, anonymous requester! After you sent in your prompt, I had another anonymous reader get in touch with me to let me know they’d already written a story that matched your wishes exactly. 

The author of this story is French, not a native English speaker, and they’ve written a beautifully touching story that expands on the TOS episode, City on the Edge of Forever.  I am posting it here on my blog, with their permission, because they do not wish to have an account nor have their identity attached to the story. This writer has already become dear to me and I’m honored that they trusted me with their writing. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s a long story, nearly 3,000 words, so RIP to your dash if you’re on mobile.  I didn’t want to post it on AO3 or anywhere else except my blog, which feels safer.

Trigger warning for panic attack and trigger warning for some mild emeto, if you’re sensitive to that. It’s not very graphic.

“James Kirk, I demand an explanation!”

Scotty, Uhura, the teleportation technicians, and the security guards were completely dumbfounded by the doctor's explosion. They watched the captain stagger off, livid, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He disappeared without a word, with long stiff steps, from the room.

“Jim!” yelled McCoy.

 “Not now, doctor.” Spock's cold, dry voice stopped him.

Spock squeezed McCoy’s arm firmly and Scott was sure to read in his black eyes a burst of fury. McCoy noticed it too, because despite the storm of his own eyes, he remained silent.

“Everyone, at your posts,” declared the Vulcan. “Scott, you are in charge for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Scotty nodded, refraining from asking any questions.

As soon as they had come through the Time Gate, seconds after they left, it seemed, but many weeks later for them, he had seen that they were not fine at all. The captain was pale, deaf to their questions, obviously struggling with the tears that filled his eyes. The doctor was just as white, his face contracted with a terrible anger. As for Spock, he kept his eyes fixed on Jim, his usual indifference altered by deep and obvious concern.

What the hell had happened?

This is precisely the question McCoy yelled at Spock, pulling himself brutally out of his grip as they entered his office, safe from prying ears:

“Damn it, Spock!”

 “If you calm down, doctor, maybe I could explain.”

 “Calm down? CALM DOWN? Shit, Spock! How do you want me to calm down?”

 “Breathing. Deep, and slowly. Start by sitting down.”

 “Don't fuck with me!”

 “The Vulcans don't fuck with people. Now, please calm down.”

 Jim killed someone without thought. There's no way I can calm down. Shit!”

Spock gritted his teeth and an aura of icy disappointment emanated from him:

“Jim killed someone without thought...do you get along, doctor? You've been aboard this ship for over a year. You even pretend to be the captain's friend. How can you accuse him of this without thinking for two seconds?”

 “I saw it ! He prevented me from—"

“--and your poor little mind preferred to give in to this abject emotion rather than try to find a logical explanation. Jim, the most compassionate man we know…would he have acted like this for no reason?”

These words had the effect of a cold shower on McCoy. He shook his head, gradually coming to himself. He hadn't actually thought for a single moment, mired in a nauseating fury that he hadn't even tried to control. Shame replaced anger and he sagged in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

The past few weeks had been a total blur. He had woken up in a room with antique furniture, with an adorable woman at his bedside: Edith Keeler. It had taken him some time to realize that she was neither a hallucination nor a very good actress, but that he was indeed in a different era. Back in the 1930s. And he had barely had time to figure it out and come out of the bedroom to find answers before Jim and Spock, overjoyed, fell on him.

The next second Edith was dead. And it was Kirk's fault., He had kept him from coming to her aid. It had been too much emotion, too quickly and too soon. He had not managed to digest it, even less to understand anything other than what he had seen:

Jim had killed Edith.

But now that Spock had brought him back to reality, it all seemed absurd. And he noticed certain details: His friend's trembling when he held him; the tears in his green eyes when he leaned against the wall; Spock's unusually soft words when he had defended Jim, "he knows doctor, he knows."

How could he have seen nothing? Holding back a moan, he confronted Spock's stern face again:

“Explain it to me.”

“I'll do it quickly. In the timeline of our current story, Edith Keeler dies in 1930. In the one you walked through, paranoid after the cordrazine syringe accident, her ideals of peace and openness reach Roosevelt's ears and America becomes a peaceful country. That prevents its involvement in the second world war. Germany wins and dominates the world. Our time, therefore, does not exist.”

“Oh.”

“By the time you got there, after roughly locating your destination, we got to know Edith. A very charming woman, particularly intelligent.”

“And, Jim—"

“Was deeply in love with her. But for the good of a whole world and not solely himself, he let her die and prevented you from committing irreparable damage.”

“My god.”

McCoy put his head in his hands, overcome with excruciating guilt. Spock watched him, suppressing the harsh words that itched on his lips. The man had realized his mistake. It was useless to add more in the current state. He sighed for a long time, feeling unpleasantly empathetic towards Jim. He admired the way the man had managed to silence all of his instincts to save everyone:

“You should go see him, doctor. I think leaving him alone right now is not the best solution. Especially since he slept and ate very little while we were on earth, and even less after he realized that Edith had to die. He was ill several times during the night. He needs help.”

“Perhaps it is better ... Chapel—”

“No, Leonard,” Spock said, as kindly as he could. “He needs you.”

McCoy let out a deep sigh. He felt silly, and unforgivable. But for the sake of his friend, and indirectly, the sake of the crew, he knew Spock was right. Grabbing his medical equipment, he left in the direction of the captain's quarters.

 *****

Jim rested his forehead against the cool edge of the toilet. The doctor's words were circling in his mind, adding further weight to his overwhelming grief. He felt sick, his stomach as tight as his chest. A discomfort that had become familiar over the past few days. The intense nausea that rolled and rolled, threatening at every moment to overflow was a most unpleasant physical manifestation of his stress.

Despite his efforts to conserve food that was already scarce in their daily life in 1930, there were times when he couldn't do anything about it. Nightmares woke him in an agonizing sweat, on the verge of ruining the atrocious coarse cover of their flop.

He managed each time to sneak into the bathroom before returning the meager pittance with spasms he tried to silence. He also appreciated the discretion of Spock, who had the delicacy of pretending to sleep when Jim returned to his bed several minutes later, breathless and exhausted. But now that he was alone, aboard the Enterprise, he had no reason to contain himself, and did not fight the gagging that came out violently, like revenge for being held back so long. His stomach, however empty, kept revolting, replacing his sobs with endless contractions.

He had barely activated the door to his quarters when they had started, and he had yielded to the spasms with some relief. As unpleasant as vomiting was, his whole body tense and sore as he curled up over the toilet, at least it kept him from thinking about it. Being sick kept his mind on constant alert, focusing his attention on the spasms, gasps, bile, burning and kept the fear away. Unbearable, interminable, but ... secondary.

He coughed cautiously, catching his breath, feeling even sicker from the pungent smell that hung around him…the smell as horrible as the way he felt. This place of suffering and abandonment suited him.

He leaned over awkwardly when the bile passed his throat for the umpteenth time and spilled out in a long convulsion. He grabbed his stomach and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the mess coloring the water again. The dizziness began to build, the light becoming unbearable as a migraine took hold of his temples, seeping through to his sinuses. He shivered, trying to reach for the chase to vent some of his weakness, when a hand rested on his forehead. Incredibly cool, it brought such comfort that he could not suppress a fragile sigh.

Tenderly the hand placed a damp cloth on the back of his neck and then finally came to cover his eyes. There was the terribly aggressive sound of the toilet flushing, then a voice whispering for the light to drop to 20%.

That voice ...

His comfort immediately ceased, replaced by anguish. He coughed sharply, spitting out more bile in an effort to shake off the impending grief. He could do nothing against the intense tremors that made him gasp, nor the panicked sob that burst through the vomiting.

“Shhh, Jim.” The voice was a broken whisper. “Shhh, everything is fine.”

Kirk wanted to yell at him to go away, to leave him, not to hurt him anymore. Irrationally afraid of the anger that had rained over him earlier at the prospect of having to face reality. Instead he could only moan, shaken by a horrible, nauseating cough.

Feeling Jim shake and panic under his fingers, McCoy was crushed by an intense wave of guilt. He had seen Jim gripped with grief, stress, drunkenness, anger... but never so completely. It was the first time he seemed ... broken ... and it was largely his fault.

The abnormal heat radiating from his skin indicated a high fever and explained his lack of self control. McCoy took a syringe out of his bag and spoke in a very soft voice so as not to hurt his friend's headaches.

“Jim, I'm going to inject you with a painkiller, it'll help you relax.”

He had no other answer than a small hiccup and a burst of bile.

Nervous vomiting, McCoy noticed. It was serious. He was going to have to play it safe to get the captain to calm down enough to free himself from his sadness and he hoped the hypo would act quickly. He thrust the syringe into his biceps and took advantage of the slight respite that followed to quickly run the medical tricorder over Jim’s upper body.

The latter told him what he already knew: extreme stress, high fever, deficiencies in iron and magnesium, low blood pressure...nothing to indicate a gastric bug apart from weakness due to deficiencies, which reinforced his theory of psychogenic nausea.

McCoy was relieved to find that the sedative had done its work: Jim was shaking less and seemed more lucid.

“Bones...what--?”

Bones. So he didn't blame him. This man's empathy would kill him eventually, the doctor thought. He put a protective arm around the Jim’s shoulders and another under his chest to support him. He could feel the angry stomach muscles that continued to struggle and tighten. He gave a sad little smile.

“We are going to talk about all this. But first, we are going to get out of this horrible room. You need to lie down.”

“Um, that's not safe,” Jim grimaced with a little hiccup.

“I'll take a bucket, but I want you to lie down. Doctor's orders.”

 “If it's an o-order,” he stammered, in a slight attempt at humor.

Jim allowed himself to be helped without opening his eyes, too ill to protest, and too weak to fend for himself. Bones almost carried him to his bed.

Once lying down, McCoy carefully removed Jim’s boots and socks, pulled up a wonderfully warm blanket and put a cloth on his forehead. Then Jim heard the familiar whirr of the tricorder passing once more over his body and finally the sound of several mixes. Careful fingers rested on his right temple.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“Urgh, Bones, I'll throw up if I open them.”

“There is a bucket, don't hold back. I need you to look at me.”

Jim groaned but obeyed. The light, even though very dim, made him moan in pain. It penetrated his head like a blade and triggered, as announced, a violent nausea.

McCoy held him very gently as he threw up a thin trickle of bilious saliva. He fell completely exhausted on the pillow once the attack was over. The doctor muttered something unintelligible and wiped his face.

“I should send you to the infirmary, Jim. You have serious deficiencies and that added to the stress...this is a perfect combination for a migraine in due form. I'll put you on an IV to regulate your sugar levels and give you a strong pain reliever. It should help you feel better.”

Once everything was in place, a tactical, hesitant silence settled between them. Jim could feel his presence, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than a chair, and the warm, warm hand pressed to his shoulder. The exhaustion and sadness rose in power now that the disease could no longer build its walls around his mind. He saw Edith again. Edith and her sweetness, her love, her joy, her magnificent ideas.

"She's fair ... but not at the right time," Spock had said, trying to make her listen to reason when he...he told her that she had to...die. He had desperately looked for another way but...but—

He clenched his teeth, overtaken by the intensity of the pain. By the gesture. He had even been unable to look at her body. He had not turned around, refusing to see what he had just done, struck head-on by the horror and disgust emanating from the doctor.

He swallowed, feeling the tremors start again, the despair skyrocketing. McCoy, hearing the gasps in his friend's tight breath, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“I ... I loved her...Bones—"

A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together:

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, his own emotions rising. “I ... I don't even know how to apologize.”

“You have nothing to excuse. You are right. I ... killed her.”

“No. You saved our world. You did what you had to.”

“Oh, you spoke to Spock,” Jim whispered with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

Despite the darkness, McCoy could see the paleness growing and the captain's face tightening with the effort to hold back the sobs. He searched for a moment for words he could say to alleviate the pain. Not finding them, he shook his head.

Jim tried to speak, with difficulty. “I shouldn't—”

“You have the right to be sad. You just lost the one you love in an act of unimaginable courage. Jim, I'm an overly impulsive old fool, I can't even imagine what you've been through and I sincerely ask forgiveness for this unjustified anger.”

“Please, Bones—"

“No, let me finish. Thank you for your understanding, but you don't have to. I acted like an idiot.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“That's no excuse. I know you and should have taken a step back.”

“What is done is done.”

“Jim, what I'm trying to say is that you must not let my emotionally spoken words get to you. You didn't deserve it.”

“I...I searched and searched...and searched again. I couldn't get away from her even when I knew that—”

“You were in love.”

“No, Bones. I'm in love. A selfish person who regrets choices that he shouldn't regret.”

“You are human, and you are suffering. Let it go.”

Another tear rolled down, then another, and finally it was a torrent that poured into the pillow. The captain put a hand over his mouth to silence the gasps of despair and the overwhelming agony of loss. Bones gripped his shoulder, patting it in a comforting gesture. He watched Jim sob like a child, breathing laboriously through exhaustion and mourning. Then he gradually calmed down until he fell into a deep sleep.

The doctor sighed and wiped away his own tears that had started at the same time as his friend's, and that he had not tried to stop. He readjusted the IVs and scanned Jim’s body for the third time. His fever was still high from a mild viral infection after several weeks in the cold and fatigue undernourishment. Jim would be off for a few days and stay in bed.

When he left the room, the doctor was not surprised to find Spock standing and waiting with arched eyebrows.

“How is he?”

 “Exhausted and cold, but fine.”

 “Has he been able to express his sorrow?”

 “I guess, yes.” McCoy smiled, thinking of his friend's relaxed face as he left the room.

“And were you able to express yours?”

The doctor jumped slightly, not at all prepared for this question, much less for Spock to say it. He was sometimes pleasantly surprised by the well-hidden sensitivity of his Vulcan friend. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it.

“You are about to cry.”

“Damned be your insight, Mister Spock,” the doctor growled, a little annoyed.

“Humans all must cry at one time or another to get better, doctor. I do not understand why you put a manly bulwark in front of this natural mechanism.”

Bones laughed. “Wouldn't you find it embarrassing for me to break down in tears right now in your arms?”

He expected Spock to answer him, "Vulcans don't know the gene, doctor." Instead he replied, in his usual relaxed and serene tone, “If that makes you feel better, no.”

Such compassion was so strange that it almost seemed out of place. Leonard burst out into a frank laugh that turned without realizing it into a flood of tears. Tears of his own sadness this time, not empathy or guilt. Sadness he didn't think he had. Maybe he was also a little in love with Edith after all. And that the Vulcan understood it well before him.

Spock, moreover, did not pretend to leave, contenting himself to stay by his side until McCoy’s tears turned back into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” the first officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Mister Spock, because I’m thinking of the absurd spectacle we would have made if someone had been there. The ship's doctor weeping like a baby in front of a motionless Vulcan and their captain's closed door.”

Spock coughed and McCoy would swear to anyone who wanted to hear it that he was blushing.

“Well, you're not a hopeless case,” he said with a smirk, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Spock.”

Then he turned on his heel towards the infirmary without hearing the relieved sigh of his alien friend.

[myownpersonaldemons]

I wrote a thing.

UF!Grillby/Reader

Reader’s sister needs someone to babysit.

“Hm…fuck no? Is that a good answer?” Grillby said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight back away, effectively closing himself off. You leaned against the table, pressing your lips together. That was precisely the kind of reaction you were expecting to get, honestly, but you were going to give it your best attempt instead of letting the topic slid there.

“It’s only for a week, and I’ll be the one looking after ‘em. I’m their last resort, anyways! Everyone else is either busy or doesn’t have the time,” you explained, allowing your voice to take on a hint of begging. You may be proud, but with your boyfriend, you weren’t above begging. He rolled his eyes, or the approximation of the action as he didn’t have eyes really to roll.

“I don’t care if you were the last person on Earth,” Grillby gritted out, “I am not allowing a kid into this apartment.”

“Why not?”

“Five reasons,” Grillby held up a hand, he lowered one finger per excuse. “One, I hate kids. Two, they’re messy and sticky and get shit everywhere. Three, I can’t swear in front of them. Four, a week with a kid in the apartment means a week where I can’t have sex. Five, what would Sans say if his bedroom was occupied?”

You held up your hand and with each counter point you raised a finger, “One, you don’t hate kids you just don’t know how to act around them. Two, she’s not a messy kid. Three, you can swear in front of her since her parents do. Four, we can still have sex we just got to get creative and make sure the bedroom door is locked. Five, if you’re really that concerned about Sans’ sleeping arrangements he can sleep with us in our bed when he gets black out drunk.”

He scowled at you for that last one, then ran a hand down his face, “Why do you care? Can’t they just hire some nanny or some shit like that?”

“Not everyone’s as rich as you, Grillby,” you pointed out.

“What if I hire someone for them instead?” he gestured to himself.

“I don’t trust you to hire someone with the right credentials,” you admitted, giving him an apologetic grin.

Apparently that had been a huge blow in his ego, but eventually you had gotten him to agree to babysitting your sisters kid for a week. Not a day more. You honestly weren’t excited to take care of a kid for a week, but it was for your sister and she’d owe you big time for this. You had kissed him and thanked him, saying that you owed him. He grumbled about it, and was still grumbling about it.

Especially considering the fact that you had subsequently gotten really fucking ill the day after your sister dropped off your niece. You had woken up dizzy and sweating. Grillby had taken one look at you, sworn, and taken you to the doctor. He’d almost forgotten to bring your niece as well, and you weren’t in any mindset to actually remember. You could barely remember how to zip up your jacket let alone that you had a small child to look after. Your niece was cuddled up in your arms in the waiting room as your boyfriend sat with his head in his hands.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, leaning against him, the simple act felt way too much for you.

“It’s not your fucking fault,” he replied, turning and kissing your forehead. It surprised you, he normally wasn’t an affectionate person in public, well not that sort of affection. Though, you were feeling chilled and the warmness against your forehead was delightful so you leaned further against him.

Grillby wasn’t used to seeing you so…weak. Pale. Awful. You could barely hold onto the child in your arms as the three of you walked back to the car. So, Grillby reluctantly held his arms out towards you. You looked at him tired confusion in your eyes. “Gimme the kid,” he muttered, and you slowly shifted the sleeping kid over into his arms.

Well.

This was weird.

He couldn’t say he liked it.

The child was small, and stared up at him with as much apprehension as he stared down at her with. She was stiff as he attempted to hold her like you had been holding her. Then again, that was probably because he was stiff as well. With a grimace, he shook off the awkwardness of the situation and placed a hand on your lower back and guided you over to the car. You were ill and you needed antibiotics for the next week until whatever this was had passed. Which meant, instead of you looking after the kid.

He was going to have to look after a child that wasn’t his, and look after his sick girlfriend.

He didn’t mind the latter of those responsibilities, but the first? He didn’t care for your sister too much, and thought her husband was a bastard, so looking after their child was not something he wanted to do at all. He’d only allowed the kid to be in your apartment because you said you’d take care of her.

With a sigh, he fumbled with the car seat until you brushed him aside and did it before you got into the front seat. By the time he got to the drivers seat, you were well on your way to passing out, arms crossed and slouched in the seat. He hoped to the stars that you would be lucid enough to at least tell him what to do, and deal with the kid while he was at work. Grillby was not going to miss work because of a dumb kid.

When he pulled into the parking stall, he nudged you gently awake. You blinked sleepily before getting out of the car, he worried when you swayed slightly. Then he was hit with the sudden need to get you away from everyones eyes. So, he scooped the kid out of the car as fast as he could and got you onto the elevator. You were weak. Defenseless. Not only that, but there was also the weak, defenceless child. At least with the kid he knew none of his enemies would bother with it. No one would harm kids, after all.

The panic about your safety faded the moment he locked the door to the apartment.

You fumbled with your zipper and he assisted you getting your winter gear off before handing you the kid. You stared at the kid for a second and then looked up at him confusedly. “What?”

Fuck.

Just what he needed.

“I don’t know how to take off the snow suit shit you put on her,” Grillby said, giving the baby a small wiggle. She giggled and kicked her feet.

You made a ‘oh’ noise before reaching forward and taking the kid from him. He breathed out a sigh of relief as you worked the snowsuit off the kid. Grillby watched you as you talked to your niece cheerfully, even exhausted and sick as all hell you were still being super sweet and cute to a kid that wasn’t even your own. You stood up, wobbly, and he quickly placed a hand on your back to steady you.

“You should rest,” Grillby pointed out, “I don’t want to have to take you back to the doctor because you cracked your skull open.”

“I’ll be fine, I got medication,” you retorted waving a hand, and scooping up your niece. “Plus I said I’d look after Alex, so look after her I will.”

Grillby didn’t bother fighting you, but kept a close eye on you and the kid. He lounged on the couch with a book so that he could keep an eye on you as you did various activities with the kid. At one point, the chubby little shit got up and headed over to him and held up a crayon drawing. He looked at it, and then glanced back at you. You looked even sicker than you had earlier, but you gave him a thumbs up.

“Looks good,” he muttered, “What is it?  An eggplant and a potato?”

“It you,” the kid pointed at the purple shaped object, “n’ auntie.”

You giggled at that, but in a way that made him realize that you were becoming loopy. Grillby sighed, biting back his normal saucy response and instead sat up. 

You should sleep,” he said, directing his attention towards you. You rolled onto your back on the ground.

“Gotta watch Alex,” you replied, giving him another thumbs up.

“Doesn’t the kid need a nap too or something? Wasn’t that what your sister said?” Grillby gestured towards the kid who had placed the drawing on his lap and was heading back over to the crayons on the living room floor. He really hoped there wasn’t any crayon on the wood. When you just made a fart noise he sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I’m not your babysitter.”

“I’ll sleep when you go to work,” you said before rolling back onto your stomach and sitting up. “I need to give Alex a bath.”

Grillby sighed deeply before waving a hand, “Don’t drown in the tub. I can’t help you out if you do.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you got to your feet and scooped up Alex. She complained as you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone in living room. He checked his watch. A little over two hours before work. He could go early to get everything ready, but he didn’t really feel comfortable leaving you alone while you were sick. So, he listened closely, hearing the kid complaining about not wanting a bath fading into giggles from both you and the kid.

Eventually, he got up and peeked into the bathroom to ask what you wanted for dinner.

You were drying the kid off, a fond look on your face as you booped her on the nose.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, shoving down the strange fluttering in his SOUL at that sight. He didn’t have time to unpack it and quite frankly, he didn’t care to at all. Cus, fuck that.

“Something light,” you replied, tucking the blanket around the kid. “I don’t know if I can hold anything too heavy down.”

He nodded, and headed into the kitchen. When he finished, he went to find you to let you know that he’d made some soup, but he was met with the sight of you passed out on the bed with Alex flipping through one of the books her mother had left with them. Grillby sighed heavily. Great. Could he even leave you alone with the kid tonight? His bar was open for nine hours…

Closing his eyes, he rubbed at them roughly for a second.

Then he stepped out of the room and called up Sans.

“to what do i owe the pleasure?” Sans said as he answered the phone.

“Come to my apartment,” Grillby practically ordered before hanging up.

It took longer than Grillby would’ve liked before Sans popped into existence in the middle of the living room. Sans scratched at his skull, staring down at the crayons and papers still strewn about. “arts n’crafts grillbz? didn’t take ya for the kind of monster.”

Grillby explained the situation simply instead of allowing himself to rise to the bait. “I need you to make sure neither of them ends up killing themselves.”

“what? no.” Sans held up his hands, “i ain’t a babysitter.”

“I’ll cut your tab in half,” Grillby insisted, and saw Sans’ face twitch.

A second passed and then Sans groaned, “fine, fine. i’ll make sure they don’t off themselves.”

“Good,” Grillby said and then placed a hand on Sans’ jacket. The scent of burning cloth rose up, “If even a hair on their head is injured-“

Sans shrugged off Grillby’s hand, “ya trust me ‘nuff ta look after yer mate and a kid, and i ain’t about to break that trust, grillby.”

Grillby nodded stiffly before turning and heading back into the spare room. He carefully picked you up from the bed and brought you into your actual bedroom. After waking you up briefly to explain what was happening, giving you medication, he tucked you into bed and headed back out. 

Alex was staring at Sans with as much apprehension as a little kid could have.

“I’ll be back at two sharp,” Grillby informed Sans as he pulled on his jacket. Alex trotted over and tugged at Grillby’s hand. “I go too?”

“No?” Grillby pulled his hand from Alex. As he turned, the little girl tugged at his hand again.

“I go too.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Grillby picked up Alex, holding her at arms length and strode over to Sans. He placed her beside him. “Stay.”

“Go!”

He ignored her and left.

Sans looked down at the kid, who was glaring after Grillby. Then, she burst into tears.

You woke up the next morning, feeling a bit more clear-headed. You pushed yourself up slightly, groaning. Okay, strike that. You were aching. You probably should take a warm bath, or get a massage from Grillby to help with the aches and pains. Speaking of…Grillby wasn’t lying beside you which was strange. He always slept in later than you, as he didn’t need to work until later in the day. You slowly got out of bed, pulling on a sweater to fight off the chill, and left your bedroom.

Grillby was cooking pancakes in the kitchen and Alex was babbling away to Grillby as she ate some mashed fruits messily.

The apartment was an absoloute nightmare.

“What happened?” you asked looking at all the toys, books, dishes and everything strewn about.

“Sans is never allowed to babysit for me again,” Grillby spat out, gesturing towards the mess, “Sure, you two didn’t die but! The apartment’s a fucking nightmare!”

“Fucking!” Alex mimicked, and then held up her spoon towards Grillby. He stared at it for a second, and only after she offered it to him again he sighed and bent down and accepted the mashed fruit with only a bit of reluctance. You fought the smile on your face.

“I’ll clean up-“

“You are sick, sit your ass down,” Grillby said, “I can clean the apartment.”

You hesitated but sat down in the chair at the island that he gestured to. Alex was sitting on the counter, which if Grillby wasn’t the one watching her you might’ve had an anyersum. You knew you sister would if she saw it, but you weren’t going to tell her. Alex scooped up some more fruit and offered it to you. You shook your head, “I’m sure Uncle Grillby would love some though.”

You saw Grillby’s flames snap oddly at being called Uncle, and he gave you a look, “Just Grillby.”

“Jus’ Gwillby,” Alex repeated, but offered the spoon towards Grillby again. He once again reluctantly accepted the food. Then he put a smaller pancake on a plate and placed it in front of her.

He made a slightly bigger one for you, and you didn’t know if you should eat it…but you did because you’d never turn down Grillby’s cooking. As you and Alex ate, he explained how he had left Sans in charge when he went to work, and that he had come back to Sans passed out on the couch, Alex passed out in the bathroom with the faucet running, and you had apparently attempted to get out of bed at one point but decided that walking was too much energy and had curled up on th floor in the hallway. He’d kicked Sans out, and put you and Alex to bed. Last night he’d been to just exhausted to deal with the mess that was the apartment but insisted that it had been worse when he had gotten home.

You apologized once more, and he just gave you a blank look. “You’re sick, again not your fault. You owe me big time, but not your fault.”

You smiled, “Course, you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He puffed up slightly as you fed his ego with just those few words.

Thankfully, that was the last fiasco. Your medication was helping, and you had a clear enough head for the rest of the week to look after Alex when Grillby went to work that you didn’t need a babysitter in the form of Sans.

Grillby wasn’t any where close to what you’d call affectionate with Alex, but he seemed to tolerate her enough that sometimes their interactions were cute. At one point, she wanted to know what he was reading, so he read out loud to her as she sat beside the couch and peered up at the book. When she tried to crawl into his lap, he picked her up and gave her to you instead. The one time that Alex woke up from a nightmare and snuck into your room, he had been startled as the tiny form crawled over him and nearly fell out of the bed. You’d simply groggily asked her what was wrong before allowing her to cuddle up next to you for the rest of the night.

When your sister finally came to pick Alex up, you had smiled and said everything went swimmingly. No issues. You totally weren’t sick. Grillby totally didn’t at one point let her try a sip of his whisky, and she totally didn’t pull the ‘ew gross’ face before asking for more. She totally didn’t walk in on you and Grillby getting it on because he forgot to lock the door like you had told him. She’d also definitely did not eat an entire crayon. You still weren’t sure if she did but it was missing from the crayon collection and you couldn’t find it anywhere.

It wasn’t until a few days later that your sister phoned you up.

“Why is Alex calling her father ‘bastard man’?”

You turned and glared over at Grillby. “I honestly have no idea why Alex is calling your husband a bastard. Grillby????”

Grillby merely gave you a grin that was reminesent of the knife cat meme.

So close to your sister, thinking you were the best babysitter.

So close.

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

No One’s Gonna Love You (2)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

A/n: I found a “starters” post on pinterest… and here is the resulting mini series. Key line: “I need to stop kissing strangers and pretending they’re you.” Mostly angst, but fluff also. *Google Image not mine (edited). Warnings: cursing, angst, a guy that’s kinda creepy.

After a shower and a change of clothes, you were leaning against the back of the Impala as the brothers pushed themselves through the garage door. Dean had a little hop in his step, seemingly excited for his night out of the bunker, while Sam schlepped behind him typing on his phone.

After a fifteen-minute car ride of Sam and his brotherly bickering of Dean’s choice of music and you were at another Roadhouse-esq hole in the wall with the smell of stale beer etched into the fabric of the booths.

“Seriously, dude?” Dean muttered around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “Who orders a salad at a dive bar?” he berated Sam as he stabbed at his chicken caesar salad with the dressing on the side.

“I mean, usually I’m on your side here, man… but I gotta side with Dean on this one. Can’t you even just order fries like a normal person?” you said, waving one of your French fries in his face. “They even have those disgusting sweet potato fries you like so much.”

Sam chuckled and gave some halfhearted attempt at arguing why his choice was better than yours or Dean’s ‘pile of grease’. You responded by taking a piece of the bacon from your burger and plunging it into your mouth unceremoniously.

After the plates were cleared, Dean set off to the bar and ordered his first whiskey of the evening. You and Sam were chatting about a Game of Thrones fan theory you read online and sipping on your respective beers when your eyes drifted to a bottle blonde in a skin tight, barely-below-the-butt-cheek skirt. Of course, you’d never shame or judge a woman for her choice of clothing, often sticking up for them if someone ever got too handy, but even you couldn’t help the wide-eyed stare when she bent over the bar to shout at the bartender.

No sooner did your eyebrows raise were Dean’s shooting to his hairline, swiftly gliding down the bar to chat her up. The shocked expression on your face was quickly replaced with hurt, which you quickly tried to chase away with a clearing of your throat and a swig of your beer. When you set it down back on the wooden table, Sam’s eyes were fixed on you from the opposite booth and a small, sympathetic smile was placed on his lips.

“Shut up, Sam.” You deadpanned.

“Y/n—“

“Sam… please?” You begged.

He nodded his head in understanding, “Okay. I will. But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.” He gripped your hand quickly with a couple of pats as Dean’s hand traveled to the hem of Blondie’s skirt and his fingertip traced patterns along her smooth upper thigh. After that, they were quick to retreat out the swinging doors into the parking lot.

It was always the same. Dean left with a girl who looked nothing like you; always between 4-7 inches taller and a good fifteen pounds lighter at least. You chugged the remainder of your beer and swung your legs out of the booth in search of something stronger. A shot of tequila was downed quicker than one would think humanly possible from the time it hit the wood in front of you. An irritated roll of your neck and a stretch of your spine caused your t-shirt to ride up revealing the small of your back. You heard a low whistle from behind you and prepared yourself for the ambush of ‘hey baby’-ies and ‘what’s your sign’-s. Sure, you could go home with another guy; it wouldn’t be the first time, but the act was getting old. You began to hate the feeling of cheap hook-ups in different towns dotted across the country, knowing deep down that they were only there to fill a void—sadly, no pun intended.

A tall man with slight stubble and too much aftershave that did little to cover up the cigarette smell sat on the stool beside you. Accosted with the overly peppery scent, it took all of your will-power to quell the small gag that crept up your throat.

“Where do you come from, darlin’?” the John Doe next to you slurred.

Another shot appeared in front of you. You tossed it back before answering unimpressively, “Mars. I’m an alien.”

He chuckled low in his throat, sending chills up your spine. There was just something about the guy that made your insides do summersaults, it wasn’t from the tequila and it sure as hell wasn’t good. Every instinct told you to sock the guy where he stood, but that would cause too much attention.

“Well, tell me something about yourself, sweetheart.”

Wow. This guy was thick. If it wasn’t visible by the obvious disgust on your face, the slow and methodological move away from him was practically blaring ‘fuck off’ in his general direction.

“Well, don’t be so secretive kitten. I just wanna get to know ya.” He purred.

“You want to know something about me, huh? Okay.” You turned towards him; the confidence and irritation that came with your slight buzz flowed through your veins. If he didn’t lay off soon, you’d be out for blood. “How about this hot-shot… I can kill a man with my belt buckle.”

He began to laugh, until he looked at your raised eyebrow and challenging expression, muttering something about you being a crazy bitch.

“Excuse me, who the fu—“you began, only to be interrupted by a loud scuffle.

A rough slap on the creep’s shoulder had him being hauled up by the collar of his jacket, Dean’s fist being on the offensive and dragging him off of his stool.

“What did you just call her?” Dean growled, Sam right behind him.

“Who the hell are you?!” he shouted.

“Doesn’t matter. Now apologize.”

Drunk guy muttered something barely recognizable, but that wasn’t satisfying to you or Dean.

“I couldn’t hear you.” You barked, inching closer to his face.

He paused, looking up to meet your eyes, “… Sorry.”

You nodded to Dean, who yanked whats-his-face by the collar to whisper in his here, “By the way… she wasn’t lying. She really can kill a guy with her belt buckle. Quickly, too. Now get out of here.”

Intoxicated dude-bro stumbled out of the bar and into the night air as you pounded one last shot before turning to Dean, “Thanks.  I had it, though.”

“Oh, I know you did, sweetheart. I never thought you didn’t.”

“What about you? What happened to… uh, whoever-she-was?” you asked, averting your eyes to stare at your now empty shot glass.

“Eh… not my type tonight.” He replied nonchalantly, shoving his hands deep in his jean pockets. “Are you ready to head home?”

The steady flow of tequila flowing through you began to swirl your thoughts heavily. What started as a drink to ease your frustrations had quickly turned into too much. You stumbled slightly before looking to Dean for help, “Yeah… yeah, I am.”

Both of the Winchesters were quick to support you as you trekked to the car, leaning into their sides as Dean tossed Sam the keys.

The cool breeze made you feel clammy and a bit sick. Dean slid into the back seat with you as you quickly scurried in. Maybe three shots after beer wasn’t the best idea. “Beer before liquor, never sicker” you heard your old Aunt’s words ringing in your ears as the boys drove you home.

Dean helped you into the bunker bathroom while Sam went to fetch you a glass of water. Being home in your ‘bubble’ of comfort made you feel better, the fog of the alcohol lifting slightly.

“Ugh.” You said as Dean placed a cold washcloth on the back of your neck. “Too much, too soon.”

“I’ve always said that about you, Y/n.” he chuckled heartily, “You’re always diving in head first.”

“Pfft. Yeah, and look where it got me.” You mumbled, taking the glass of ice water from Sam who quickly retreated back out the door.

You groaned audibly when the coldness hit the back of your throat, only noting then that Dean was staring at you.

“What did you say?” he asked.

You peered up at him from your seated position against the bathroom cabinet. You were sure when you slid down there, but… here you were.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

He crouched down in front of you, swinging his long legs next to yours so he was seated across from you, his weight rested on the palms of his hands. “You can lie all you want, Y/n. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Feeling dizzy, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back exhaustedly. You were sobering up a little, but not nearly fast enough, and at this point, you were mentally and physically drained of the stress of Dean Winchester. You’d been drunk in his presence a million times, but you were now at the point where you couldn’t control it anymore. Your intoxicated mind told you to just let him have it—all of the thoughts you’d been lying about and all of your deepest, darkest secrets.

“Wuddya’ want me to say, Dean? You’re right. I dive right in. Don’t even test the waters; just cannonball right into the deep end. In life, in love—doesn’t matter. I always do it. I do it with hunting, ya know I do. Go in, guns blazing, am I right?”

Dean sat motionless, sensing that you were heading somewhere with this and knowing better than to interrupt you.

You laughed as your head rolled slightly, moving of its own accord and weight. “Did you know the human head weighs eight pounds?” you asked randomly, causing him to don a perplexed look. “It does. And guess what? You’re head is pretty.” You pointed an unsteady finger at his face. “That’s another thing that I’ve just jumped right off the ledge into. Did you know that, Dean-o? I’ve been in love with you forever.” You sort of whisper growled the last note, jerking your body with emphasis but still not opening your eyes. “But it's a lost cause, huh? I know you don’t love me. And what would I expect? I’m not the type of girl you go after… like ever. I’m just me… and no one’s ever gonna love me.”

When you finally opened your eyes to see him scooting closer to you on the floor, his eyes widened and mouth agape, ready to protest. You held up a hand to halt him, shaking your head furiously and much too quickly, “Don’t, Dean. Don’t make up some story about how great I am or any other bullshit, okay? I know I’m not your type, and that’s fine. I don’t wanna be that, not that there’s really anything wrong with it... I like who I am, honestly, but there’s a few things I need to admit to myself.” You paused, looking down to examine your hands and avoid his waiting stare.

Tears threatened to spill as you finally met his gaze and spoke, “I need to stop kissing strangers and pretending they’re you…”

< My Masterlist / Part 1 / Part 3 >

[lenin-it-to-win-it]

just gonna rant about my health issues to no one in particular for a bit under the cut sooo

im just so fucking tired of being sick all the time like. its been almost 2 years now of actively Going To Doctors And Having Tests Done And Trying To Get A Diagnosis and fucking!!! nothing works!!! and i only have until the end of this coming school year to get it figured out before my insurance runs out otherwise im just fucked!!! because im sure as hell not gonna be able to afford a fucking mri every six months making 10 bucks an hour at some retail shithole but so far ive seen SIX different fucking doctors (not counting 2 ER visits) because they all just keep shuffling me back and forth like “idk maybe have someone else deal with this? weird lol” or like “have you considered that maybe you might have anxiety :) you seem stressed :)” 

like yeah its a fucking stressful situation getting progressively fucking sicker for two goddamn years wasting thousands of dollars and reaching the end of a fucking ticking clock because almost every doctor ive seen is an incompetent jackass who does NOTHING but waste my time and money and then fucking condescend to me about anxiety like!!! yeah i probably DO have anxiety and depression and autism and what the fuck ever else but this isnt THAT 

and the literal ONE TIME i had ANY treatment that worked AT ALL helping with my eye spasms (literally One of Many Symptoms that i deal with on a fucking daily basis that still manages to completely fuck up my life) is something i cant take anymore because it damaged my fucking eyes!!! possibly permanently!!! i already HAD issues wtih light sensitivity that this medicine made WAYYY fucking worse and guess whats one of the WORST things at setting off my eye spasms??? anything to do with fucking light so YEAH thANKS for that @ the opthalmologist who had me take those damn eye drops for two months straight, which other neuro opthalmologist said was bullshit when i saw her again, not that im letting HER off the hook either since she REFERRED me to that incompetent bitch in the first place and then had NO solution other than “hm well you definitely shouldnt take that medicine again, but theres literally No Other Treatment, maybe blow another $400 in a few months to come see me again so i can continue to Not Help You In Any Way”

and its getting wORSE ALL THE TIME!!! and the best thing doctors can think of is “hm well maybe wait a bit to see if it gets worse? and maybe then we’ll know what it is?” well its getting worse!!!! but they still dont seem to know what it is!!! like at first it was just my vision going out of focus for a few seconds at a time, then it was a few minutes, then i was having visual distortion (or maybe hallucinations? who knows! certainly not any of the fucking doctors ive seen!), then awful fucking eye strain headaches, then spasms in my neck, then my jaw, then my arms, then my legs, now all fucking over, and now i get sick and dizzy just by moving my HEAD too far or too suddenly and like at work earlier today i was just stumbling around for two hours bc there was too much pressure in my head and everything felt tilted and i was just grabbing at every surface trying not to fall with my head like on my shoulder bc keeping my neck straight was too fucking hard and i swear to fuckign god a couple nights ago there was this weird buzzing on the side of my face??? and like it felt like my mouth was moving slower than it should??? but i dont even KNOW if thats a Real SymptomTM or if i was just freaked out and tired and imagining things or if i really am just getting to be a paranoid delusional nutcase about my health because every little thing terrifies me at this point, like ive been coughing for a couple weeks and instead of being like “oh its a bad cold” im like “maybe now my immune systems fucked up too maybe this is A New Symptom” i literally cant tell anymore i have no fucking idea 

and i dont WANT to think about all this All The Fucking Time but i do!!!!! i literally HAVE to bc it affects my life in every fucking possible way and i cant escape it like even rn the light from the fuckign computer is hurting my eyes and i cant even see what im typing half the time bc my eyes keep going out of focus and my teeth keep chattering and my head hurts or ill go to get a drink of water but then just Stand there for a few minutes bc i dont trust myself to hold a cup full of water and not spill it bc im having spasms or ill have to wear sunglasses at the dinner table bc my fucking idiot asshole dad got the BRIGHTEST possible lightbulbs for the dining room and i physically cant stand them 

or like im already dreading having to explain all this shit to my professors this semester about how like “oh so i probably wont be able to keep up with daily readings, especialyl not if theyre on physical paper and i cant scale up the text because my eyes just spontaneously stop working and i cant read..... and ill need a computer to take notes, i can Usually hold a pencil but one time i had a spasm in class and flung it across the room and it was super embarrassing and i ltierally skipped that class for weeks because of it so id really rather not deal with that again.... and even though im a fuckign AMAZING public speaker like, state champion debate level public speaking, ill still probably get super fucking nervous and suck at any kind of in class presentation bc ill just be thinking about my spasms the whole time and wont be able to focus....... and ill have to wear sunglasses all the time too so hopefully thats not an issue........ and also ill probably miss a lot of class bc whether or not i can handle walking half a mile Varies Wildly from day to day and also i have a lot of doctors appointments and sometimes im on medicine that completely ruins my sleep schedule so you know... looking forward to a great semester, hope i dont completely fail your class” 

and i have fuckign work tomorrow where ill have to deal with trying to pretend like even the most minor tasks arent painful and difficult and deal with awful btichy entitled customers complaining that im not SMILEY enough for you like the motherfucker who asked me how i was and i said fine and he was like “jUuUUuuuST fINE” like shut the everlasting FUCK UP with that ive met my obligation leave me ALONE my day isnt FINE im in awful pain and i HATE you and everyone like you or ill have to deal with my coworkers giving me weird looks while im having spasms or outright MOCKING me for them like the asshole that called me TWITCH (and a whore, but thats Another Fucking Story) or just not knowing how to deal and making bad taste jokes like when my teeth are chattering bc I Physically Cant Make It Stop like “haha are you chewing an invisible piece of gum lol” like no bitch im a neurological nightmare and my brain doesnt work and im Barely Holding Together would you PLEASE shut the fuck up 

and most of the time i just feel like everyone thinks im a fucking freak like even just sitting in the waiting room to see the neurologist or opthalmologist or whatever and everyone else there is Old and im the only person even remotely close to my age there and even the doctors dont seem to take me that seriously bc of it like “oh shes young, cant be that bad, all these old people out here are gonna die like tomorrow so why worry about this girl, its probably just anxiety from being on her period or having a test to study for lol” like straight up when the movement disorder neurologist was examining me she was like “im not used to seeing anyone this young or healthy’ and i know she meant it relatively speaking but like!!! clearly im NOT healthy or i wouldnt BE here like obviously something is wrong with me and its ruining my life and its serious and id like it fixed thanks!!!!! 

and i feel like No One Gets It like, obviously there are people wayyyy sicker than i am who suffer a lot more or people in similar situations but like. i dont Personally Know someone like that i can just talk to and like, of course i have friends who can Listen but.................................. theres a difference from being able to listen and being able to actually Understand and sometimes you just cant Get It unless youve gone through it like i really dont think ANYONE in my life has any idea how serious this is or how much it affects me and i know i cant expect everyone to just Always Think Of My IssuesTM but little things!!! like maybe NOT having the brighest possible lightbulbs in the dining room!!!! my brother NOT having his birthday party at dave and busters, which i had TONS of spasms at last time i went (and im even worse now!) AND the staff gave me shit about wearing sunglasses so now im nervous about That too or just! idk! people respecting and listening to me when i tell them that i Cant Do Something or that Doing That Thing Hurts and not just brushing me off or telling me im overreacting and then getting all shocked pikachu face when their dumbassery actually physically HURTS me and i get pissed with them for it!!!!

i dont think anyone gets how much it scares me all the time or how its Always on my mind and i literally cant think about anything else like. this could be the rest of my life. this could end my life. i dont know what i have. i might get diagnosed in the next month and have it completely cured, i might get a diagnosis and still be sick forever, i might not find out until its too late and i have LITERALLY NO FUCKING IDEA WHICH ONE!!!! ITS GREAT!!!!!!!! WELCOME TO MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[missjackil]

What I Think is Happening

We saw a big focus on Dean and Jack’s relationship this past episode, and I think it’s for a plot reason. No, its not so Sam can be sidelined because Jack is popular so TPTB want to make him Dean’s son instead, but because Dean and Jack need some ground to be made up for starters. We all already know Sam and Cas are very close to Jack, but Dean was harsh on him until the end of 13x04 last year, and soon after, Jack got lost in the AU. And then this season, Jack recently said that if Michael cant be killed without killing Dean, then Dean dies too, so even if thats all water under the bridge, it was still bad water, and they need to come together. That’s part 1. 

Part 2 is that, a common SPN pattern is that something gets built up before being torn down, or strongly challenged. They tend to play up relationships or roles right before something comes along to crush it or change it drastically.  Remember in S1, Sam and John fought tooth and nail until they had a heart to heart talk and then soon after, John died. Later in S5, Sam and Dean were at odds right before each chose each  other. Or S11 when an emphisis was put on Sam and Dean being together and Dean never leaving Sam, and then ending on Dean needing to choose the world over Sam and Sam accepting it.  What I think is probably happening here, is that soon, Dean will be trying to kill Jack (as Michael!Dean) or Jack trying to kill Dean (however that may come about) and most likely. Sam needing to make a choice between Jack and Dean. 

Supernatural is a horror/drama show. Emphisis on drama. Any way to kick us in the feels, they will do. If this isnt what you like, then there are a bunch of other shows that don’t deal in drama to choose from, this one however, likes making us cry, and get angry, and scared and stressed. Im pretty sure this is about to be one of those things,

Remember that Jack was able to kill Michael but he didnt, so as Im convinced Michael is still in Dean but hiding, its probably coming soon that Michael!Dean tries to kill him. Of course in attempt to protect himself in case Jack recovers his grace and then will be strong enough to kill him again. Same way hes been looking for dark Kaia’s spear.  So why does this story arch have to be Dean’s and not Sam’s? Because it would have never  made any sense for Sam to have been unaccepting of Jack, unless Jack was bad. However, Jack is good, and no better way make a new character likable, than to have Sam like them.  Imagine if it was Dean who accepted Jack first and not Sam? Sam would have a valid reason to, with him being Lucifer’s son and all, and it would feel wrong , or OOC for Dean to like Lucifers son when Sam didnt and samgirls and bibros alike would be side eyeing Dean, like “How could you do this to Sam? He’s the son of the entity who tortured him for 180 yrs and taunts him to this day!” And then after a few episodes, Sam for whatever reason warms up to him. It would always be in our mind that he’s rightfully uncomfortable around Jack, and we’d wonder if Sam wasnt just keeping the peace, for Dean’s sake, and still quietly hates Jack.  Jack wouldnt be as well loved as he is, if this arc had gone the other way and when the question of chosing one over the other rears its ugly head, it wouldnt be as dramatic.  As we learned in the last 13+ seasons, is that Sam and Dean will die for each other, kill for each other, destroy the universe for each other, and that wont ever change, but throw in someone they both love as a son, and now you have a problem. If one brother would choose Jack over the other, it wouldnt be that they love him more than their brother. It would be that they do love Jack, and hes so young and hasnt even had a chance to live yet, and they know their brother is more than willing to be a martyr, and has more often than not, wanted to die and stay dead. Now we truly do have a moral delema. This also wouldnt be as dramatic if the boys needed to choose between their mother and each other, because even though many of us dont hate Mary, I dont think we’d hurt too much if she died.  If this happens, Im pretty sure, that something else will interviene and the choice wont have to be made. Like when Lucifer was holding Dean by the throat and telling Sam to either say “yes” or Dean dies. Something happened so that the choice never needed to be made, and to this day, we dont know how Sam would have chosen. We could say “Oh well obviously, hed say yes, because he wont let Dean die” but, he DID just tell Lucifer he was ready to watch the people he loves die, but he isnt ready to be his bitch. So really, we dont know what Sam would have chosen in the moment.  So while I wont lie and say Im not salty about low Sam content thus far this season, I am finding the other stories unfolding very interesting. Even what would seem to be very boring stories, have potential to go a very interesting way. I generally dont care about the demons, but what if the fact that they have no ruler, and are scared of Sam, that he unintentionally became the King of Hell?

 I dont give a crap about the Angels either, but what if the only way to save them (and yes of course Cas will try to save them) is to release them from The Empty which also unloads a bunch of nasty demons from the past that the boys have killed? Azazel. Lilith. Alistare Ruby? (note: bringing back dead follks has been part of the shows actual formula since S2 and its not going to change. Accept it and stop crying whenever it happens. you dont have to be a fan of the person they brought back, but just accept its always been part of the show) So obviously now, Lucifer is coming back and I too am tired of the character, but I accept that Lucifer will always be the series long big bad and we’ll have to deal with him off and on till the very end. However, now that he has Jack’s grace and Nick has made it obvious that hes a psychopath, what if Lucifer comes back as freakin scary, and not the spoiled 16 yr old he was? How much worse could he be to Sam then? So yeah, I see lots of interesting potential that could unfold from these stories.  This brings me to my final thought. And its just a thought, something Ive been batting around since yesterday. What if Michael is making Jack sick? Just hear me out. Jack wasnt sick till Dean came home. We dont know of him being sick while Cas had him away on a hunting trip, he got sicker after spending time with Dean in 14x06, and is now near death after spending the afternoon with Dean. Dean had a couple of dizzy spells, and possibly even some lapses in memory. Not remembering Jacks last name, when he was born, (but yes, these just may have been normal confusion in the heat of the moment) but Michael can obviously manipulate the biology of a creature. like giving the Djinn more powers that he only needs to touch someone to make their nightmares come to life. What if he’s manipulating Jacks health and when he does so, it makes Dean dizzy? I mean he cant just snap his fingers and Jack explode or he’ll blow his cover right? Make it look natural and no one will suspect anything. Anyway. that part is just a thought. Im sure there’s holes but, it does make me wonder :)

[thismanateelovestowrite]

Blue: Pt.17

Previous part: [Pt.16]

Warnings for this part: language, mentions of blood and violence

Minhyuk’s POV 

I stood in the doorway of the living room and stared at the mess in front of me. The furniture was everywhere it shouldn’t have been and it poked me in the wrong places. It irritated me.

“_____!” I angrily called the human’s name.

She is dead when I find her.

I dropped the stupid stuff I had carried there all the way from her place and walked to the door of my room. My eyes were ready to glare the hell out of that nuisance but I was let down when she wasn’t in the room. Though a little surprised, I didn’t think much of it. She was just hiding elsewhere.

I headed towards the next room and opened the door, ready to impale her with my icy glare. Much to my disappointment, she wasn’t in that room either. I was starting to get frustrated and as I approached the next door, I was preparing to yell the living shit out of her.

“I know you-“ I stopped mid-sentence when the third room was empty too.

Now I picked up my space and looked through the remaining rooms a lot quicker. After every opened door that led to an empty room, I grew more anxious.

After checking all the bed rooms I checked the bathroom that I discovered was empty too.

“Fuck,” I hissed.

She had either ran away or someone had kidnapped her.

Who would even want to kidnap someone like her? She’s a pain in the ass.

On the other hand, the fact that the apartment was a mess didn’t support my theory of her running away.

I heard the door open and walked in to the hallway only find the guys there. Their expressions were weird so I furrowed my eyebrows a little more than they already were.

“What’s with the faces?” I asked coldly.

They all eyed me and Kihyun just walked past me with an annoyed face while mumbling to himself. I ignored him since that’s how he often was, and looked at the rest.

“I wonder how you’re going to get yourself out of this mess,” Hyungwon said while passing by.

“You mean _____?” I asked nonchalantly and turned around to look at him.

He stopped and turned his head to give me a glare. “What else would I be talking about?”

I ignored his annoyance, not giving it much thought.

She ran away, what’s the big deal?

“How do you all know about it though?” I asked and turned back around right in time to see the remaining guys walk past me.

Hyunwoo was the only one who cared about my question enough to stop and turn.

“Did you run into her?”

He frowned. “Run into? What do you think?”

I shrugged, not understanding why everyone was so pissed off. It wasn’t like their lives were at risk. After all, the only one who was going to die if that dumbass human got herself killed, was me.

“We were informed,” he said, frustrated.

“Yeah? By who?”

“A member of the X Clan,” he spat.

I frowned. “What do they have to do with this?”

Hyunwoo looked slightly surprised and he just stared at me quietly for a bit. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

There was a brief silence. “The clan has her,” he said, making me feel weirdly annoyed.

“Cut the bullshit,” I said, sure that he was joking. “Why would they want her? She’s a pain in the ass.”

“They are keeping her hostage,” he continued with a serious tone. “They’re hoping we treasure her, or should I say you, enough to exchange her for Yuna.”

I could hear my own heartbeat. I felt weird, somewhat dizzy. My view was slightly blurry and it was almost like I was dreaming.

“You should really be scared for your life now,” Changkyun stopped next to Hyunwoo.

Slowly the rest gathered there too while I was trying to gather my thoughts.

“Yeah, I think we all should start praying for my life…” I mumbled.

“It’s not like you’ll die for sure,” Jooheon stated and I looked at him. “You’ll just have to run away from the higher-ups. Easy.”

I gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. Except that stupid punishment isn’t the only worrisome factor here.”

Their faces immediately turned confused.

“What does that mean?” Kihyun asked with a confused frown.

I guess it’s time.

I looked at the five in front of me. After glancing at everyone’s faces I let out a sigh and breathed in. “There’s no reason for me to live without her,” letting the words slip out of my mouth made me both annoyed and relieved.

I hadn’t told the others, excluding Hoseok. I had been ashamed. The silence was suffocating. The stares they were giving me were making me feel like I was being impaled by icy blades.

“Her smile. It’s… enchanting…” I got lost in my thoughts against my will.

And when she’s sad I feel like I should protect her…

Her smile really made my day. There was something very special about it, it was almost like a small sun in my dark life. When she was sad, I felt bad. It hadn’t been exactly easy to accept that she was my soft spot, my weakness. I hated her but deep inside I also… I guess… cared about her.

“_____?” Kihyun’s voice was only a soft sigh and I looked at him, already knowing how terrible I was going to feel when seeing his gaze. “That human is your weakness? A fucking human?!”

I had never seen him so upset. But I guess it was to be expected. His past with humans was more than enough to explain his never-ending hatred for the species.

“Do you think I like it?” I asked him, getting annoyed. “Hoseok’s efforts were the only thing that kept me alive after I found out.” After I had finally figured it out after six years of following around the obnoxious being that was her, I had seriously considered jumping off the nearest bridge. Nothing made me feel sicker than the thought of her being my only source of real happiness. Hoseok’s continuous efforts to keep me living had paid off as I eventually came to terms with the fact that I would have to go to her if I wanted to be happy.

No one seemed to know what to say. They were deep in thought with the exception of Kihyun who was already on his way out of the apartment. I wasn’t going to stop him and try to explain to him. I didn’t have to. It’s not like I had the right to choose who makes me happy.

“Knowing that girl, she’s already dead,” Changkyun ended the silence that had already gone on for minutes. “She can’t shut up.”

“She might still be alive,” Jooheon mumbled. “Maybe we have a chance.”

“You’re pretty cool about this,” I pointed out. “Seems like it only bothers Kihyun.”

“No, I’m bothered by it,” Jooheon said. “But it isn’t my business who makes you happy. I guess I care about you more than I hate humans.”

I felt somewhat touched by his words and grinned a little.

“I think we should think of a plan,” Hyungwon spoke up and earned nods of agreement from the rest. “Preferably one that doesn’t require us to hand Yuna over to the clan.”

***

Meanwhile…

The smell wasn’t what drove you crazy, no, it was the darkness. Not being able to see because of the cloth wrapped around your head made you more anxious than the weird old smell in the space, probably room, you were in.

You had no idea how long you had been conscious but it had felt like a forever. It seemed like no one was in the room with you as there had been no reaction when you had started screaming and trying to break free from the - probably - chair you had been tied to.

It’s not like this is some movie…

You were anxious, annoyed and terrified, all at the same time. The very high possibility of Minhyuk and the others not coming to get you was the reason you were anxious. What made you most annnoyed was the fact that you had no idea where you were. And those two combined were the reason you were terrified. There was no guarantee of you ever going back home and you didn’t know if you could save yourself by running away. For the time being you had no other option than wait.

The fact that the situation seemed so surreal that it made you question if it was even happening, was making you frustrated.

Am I even alive anymore? Is this just some really weird dream? Is this all a hidden camera prank? Maybe it has been like that from the beginning? Maybe this is all just a prank, maybe everything is actually fine?

The sound of footsteps made you stiffen. Your heartbeat became faster and you held your breath to listen.

“Is she conscious?” a woman’s cold voice asked.

It sounded like it came from outside the room you were in.

“No one has cared to check on her,” a man’s voice responded without much emotion.

Seems like they don’t really enjoy my presence… Not that it surprises me.

You gulped right before you heard a door being opened. You were like a statue: lifeless. You didn’t dare to even breathe.

“Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty,” the woman’s voice from earlier spat and you wondered if it would be for the best to just act like you were unconscious.

Before you could decide, the blindfold around your head was pulled off and you opened your eyes immediately.

“Enjoyed your beauty sleep?” the woman asked, giving you a disgusted look.

After your eyes had adjusted to the light, you looked at her closer. It didn’t surprise you that her eyes were the same beautiful shade of blue as Minhyuk’s. Her hair was almost white and her outfit consisted of a leather jacket, a pair of jeans and an old pair of sneakers.

“We’re quite disappointed in your friends for not showing up yet,” she coldly said and crossed her arms while glaring at you. “Seems like you aren’t as important as we thought.”

“It’s not exactly a hard choice if it’s between me and Yuna,” you mumbled even though you were intimidated by her.

“Is that so?” she smirked. “I find that hard to believe considering the amount of effort it took them to protect you and the six other humans.”

“Things are different now,” you said and looked at her while trying to hide how scared you were.

You didn’t even know why you were speaking to her. One wrong choice of word and you’d be dead, you figured. She didn’t seem like one to hesitate.

“You don’t wish to be saved?” she arched an eyebrow, her voice still cold.

“I do. I just don’t really believe it will happen,” you told her with a slightly shaky voice.

She scoffed. You turned your head away. Her icy gaze was starting to bother you.

“Don’t expect to be treated well,” she turned around and walked towards the opened door. “We are fine as long as you’re alive. Nothing else really matters.”

It’s not like I expected anything better.

***

Everything you saw around you only reminded you of the dream you had had. You were surrounded by a green forest and sunlight was falling to the ground from between the leaves of the tall trees. The silence was creeping you out; there were no birds singing and there were no signs of wind. It seemed like a fake forest.

“She’s the one?” a blue-eyed young girl asked while passing by you and the man who was currently dragging you somewhere.

Her eyes gave you chills, not only because of their unnatural color but also because of the pure hatred in them. She was disgusted.

The man only gave a hum and she snorted. She seemed to be a part of the majority of people who thought the plan wasn’t going to work out.

You were pushed in to a tent of some sort. There you were faced with the woman you had conversed with before, probably on the day before. Her gaze was just as cold as the girl’s from before but they had slightly less hatred in them. She pointed to the corner of the tent where a glass of water and some bread was positioned.

You gave her a hesitant look.

“Not good enough?” she asked with a cold tone and you immediately went over to the food.

The bread was dry but you couldn’t care less. It tasted delicious thanks to your overwhelming hunger. You heard her scoff and glanced at her who was sitting on a chair while looking at you with a contemptuous look. You swallowed the bread in your mouth and mustered up your courage before turning your head to look at her.

“Will I get my head chopped off if I ask a question?” you asked with a barely audible voice.

She just stared at you for a bit with cold eyes. “That was a question just now.”

You turned your head away, too scared to even look at her anymore. You continued eating until you had finished the bread. While eating, you had finished the glass of water.

Almost immediately the man from earlier came back and dragged you out and back in to your room that was in one of the small cottages that had been built there, in the middle of a forest.

***

You had no clue about what time it was. Maybe it was night, maybe it was morning, who knows. You had been left alone in the dark room for hours already. Hunger and thirst were bugging you and you thought that it had probably been a day or so since you last ate. The situation was slowly starting to drive you crazy, or so you thought.

While sitting in the darkness of the room you thought about how you could get away. You only saw two possibilities; escaping by yourself or waiting for someone to come for you. The former option seemed more likely to happen even though the latter sounded better.

“If they don’t come by today we should just get rid of her,” a male voice spoke outside the room.

You figured it had been around three days since you had been taken there.

“I would have already killed her if it wasn’t for the plan,” another voice growled.

“She’s useless if even Minhyuk doesn’t care about her,” the first voice said.

You felt like someone was holding your heart in their fist, squeezing hard, when you heard the sentence. Although you already knew the blue-blooded guy wasn’t very attached to you, you still hoped for him to come for you. You were scared, cold, hungry and thirsty. Even though you never would have imagined it, you caught yourself missing the warmth of the empty apartment you had been in before being taken.

You hadn’t lost all hope. Even though it might have seemed hopeless, you still thought that someone was going to come for you. And you weren’t going to give up on that thought until the very end. Somehow, maybe with luck, you would survive this experience. After all, you had survived every surreal experience before this one.

The door was opened and two men walked in. You figured they were the ones who had been talking outside the door. You avoided their gazes by hanging your head low. They untied you from the chair and forced you to stand. Just when you were about to get dragged out of the room, there was a yell that made the two let go of you.

“Rebels!” was enough to make them take you back to the chair.

They tied you on the chair and left in a hurry, only barely remembering to lock the door behind them. You were confused.

Rebels?

Your heart skipped a beat when you felt the rope loosen around your wrists when you moved them. Your hands were free and it didn’t take long before you had untied yourself from the chair. The situation made you excited even though the thought of them coming back any second was nerve-racking. You had a chance to escape.

There was a window in the room that had been covered with an old curtain. You pulled the piece of fabric aside quite roughly, causing the whole system to fall down on the floor. The noise it made was loud and you were scared someone might have heard. You hurried to find a way to open the window and when you couldn’t find anything on the window itself, you turned and grabbed the chair.

If this doesn’t work out I’m going to get killed for sure, right?

You took a breath. “Still worth a try…” you whispered faintly before hitting the chair against the window which resulted in the glass shattering.

You got rid of most of the leftover glass on the window frame before throwing the chair aside and climbing out of the window. You were so scared of getting caught that you didn’t even notice the small cuts on your ankles and hands that were caused by the leftover glass.

When you landed on the grass you just stood there for a few seconds. Then you ran. You saw the chance to escape, the very faint light at the end of the tunnel you were trapped in, and you took it. Your legs had never moved so fast before; you were sprinting at inhuman speed. You heard yells behind you but you ignored them, knowing that turning your head even slightly could be a deadly mistake. You didn’t care about your feet - only covered by socks - getting drenched in the profuse vegetation you ran through, you didn’t give it even a thought. The only thing on your mind was that you had to get away from the dozen blue-blooded creatures that were probably already running right behind you.

You had no idea where you should go, it’s not like you had had time to plan your escape. Still, you just kept running. Even though you started to feel like you would die from not being able to breathe, you kept running as fast as you could. There were moments where you almost fell thanks to the wet ground but somehow you always managed to keep your balance. It was like the guy upstairs had given you superpowers for this nightmare.

Despite your blurry vision, you ran. All the odds were against you and your almost completely hopeless escape but you hadn’t been caught by them even after running for what felt like hours. Of course, it hadn’t been that long but as the cold air and wet ground started to have their effect on you, time seemed to slow down. Your steps slowly became slower too and before long you were walking in the never-ending forest, panting heavily. It was quiet, it was almost like no animals lived in there. It seemed like the sun was slowly starting to rise and you wondered how long it had been since you had escaped the camp.

It must have been past midnight…

For the first time during your escape you turned your head back to see if anyone was following you. You could see no movement in the dimply lit forest behind you and it caused a wave of relief in you. You had - hopefully, at least - managed to escape the clan’s hold.

You headed towards the nearest tree and leaned against it, exhausted to death. Your panting was heavy and your throat was hurting. Your feet were aching and the ground felt freezing cold. Your socks had fallen off and you were now barefoot. It didn’t bother you the most though. What was bothering you the most were the small cuts you had gotten from the glass shards while climbing out of the window. They weren’t bleeding - excluding one on your palm and one on your ankle - but they were stinging quite badly.

Every part of your body hurt, especially your feet, and you felt like you were going to collapse on to the ground. Before you could resist, your legs folded themselves and you crouched down while still leaning on the tree. You looked up and saw a glimpse of the sky that was slowly starting to lighten up. Then you looked down at the vegetation around you. There were mostly green plants but you also spotted some flowers. They were just like the ones in your dream except that there were white flowers instead of red ones. You reached your hand towards them but before you could touch them, a drop of blood dropped on one of the white ones. It became red and you let your arm drop down on to your lap.

“So it was my blood…” you whispered.

The sound of footsteps made you stiffen and you got up despite being in pain. You hid behind the tree and waited, scared. The sound stopped after a bit and you leaned to the side slightly to see who it was.

You didn’t recognize the person since there wasn’t much light. The person was standing a little further away.

“______...” a familiar voice called your name, causing you to doubt your ears.

No way.

“______...” it called you again with a tone that gave you a weird feeling and you looked at the person who was still standing still. The voice definitely belonged to that person.

They turned around as if they were looking for something.

You let your body act before thinking and stepped out from your poor hiding spot. The person was still turning around so they didn’t notice you immediately. When they finally did you felt like the time slowed down. You could hear your own heartbeat and breathing. Tears sneakily gathered in your eyes, eventually overflowing.

Even though you couldn’t see very clearly, you could tell who the person was.

“______,” he called your voice with unfamiliar warmth and moved closer. Now you could see his face better.

“You came…” your voice was only a whisper and the extremely painful lump in your throat made you forget about the pain in the rest of your body.

Minhyuk was panting slightly and his eyes were glued on you. They were icy as ever but his expression made him look warmer. It looked like he was relieved to see you alive.

“You came…” you repeated, this time a little louder but your voice cracked towards the end.

He reacted to hearing you voice by coming even closer. Your legs gave in and you dropped to the ground weakly, causing him to run over to you. When he reached you, he dropped down to the ground in front of you and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you warmly.

“Why’d you run away?” he asked, his tone cold yet somewhat apologetic. “We were coming for you. We were already there.”

You were too overwhelmed by emotions to think about what he had just said.

“I was so scared,” you cried, finding comfort in his embrace.

He didn’t answer and just tightened his arms around you.

“I thought you wouldn’t come… That… that I would die there…” you sobbed.

To you it seemed like he didn’t care but he was actually feeling like crying. He held it in though, surprised and annoyed by how strong his feelings were.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “We…” he took a small pause. “I didn’t want to mess this up.”

You couldn’t form words and just cried.

“We have to get you out of here,” he said and let go of you. “Get on my back,” he ordered after turning around.

You obeyed with no complaints. He stood up after you had climbed on and started to walk.

“Thank you,” you whispered while a lone tear rolled down your cheek. “Thank you for coming for me.”

Next part: [Pt.18]

Other parts: [Masterlist]

[dazzlingfantasiesblogs]

Small talking in the shower

Sam Winchester x Reader

Hey loves! Kinda all over the place. Hope you love it.

xoxo Dazz

“Sure Dean, just grab y/n some popsicles for when she wakes up.” Dean nodded walking out the door. “Sam…” Sam stood up walking over to you. You had been extremely ill. “I gotta get up and help you with the case..” You tried shuffling in your bed a bit, easing you way up the bed. Sam put a hand on your shoulder gently. He looked into your eyes lovingly. You two had not been together or anything. Hard to say that you did not have the biggest crush on the smart Winchester. Truth be told you where more like Dean. Loud, unrational and you loved a good burger.  Sam was smart, had his wits about him and was always calm. You had been with the boys for awhile now. You where good with spells and lore in general. Also, able to shoot like no body they had ever seen. “No.. you need to rest and get over this illness. We should never have left you outside in the cold, waiting for that ghost. Especially with your asthma.” Sam looked down irritated at Deans bad planning. “I will be fine. Can… can you run a hot shower for me?” Sams eyes widened. “Uhh.. sure!” He got up, starting a warm shower. y/n slowly moved the blanket, trying to stand up. Sam looked over and grabbed her hand gently, putting it around his neck, lifting her up. “Sorry if I stink..” You laugh slightly. “Not at all, you smell like cherrys. You just took a shower last night.” “Yeah.. it helps me feel a bit better though.” Sam smiled setting you down. You started to peel off your shirt. Sam sucked in his breath looking the other way. He felt his pants get a bit uncomfortable at the site of you. Sure you had scars that littered your body from the fights, but he would be damned to say if it didn’t make you even more beautiful. He seen the tattoo that they three shared above your left breast. You slide down your shorts, not wearing any panties, hating them at times. “Sam, can you help me get over the step? I wish there was a chair we could put in the shower.” Sam took in a deep breath nodding. Trying to advert his eyes to make him not look like a perv. “I know I am not that beautiful but do I look that bad” You said slyly, trying to lift your leg weakly into the shower. “What? NO! I just didn’t not want to seem like a pervert… also we do not have that chair.” Sam looked into your eyes, you could tell he wasn’t lying. You got into the shower shutting the curtain. “Sam, I just want to get better.. I want to go help with this case.” “You gotta get better though, you are no good to us if you can barly move.” “I can think of plans.” “No, you get better first. Trust me, I would much rather be staking out a place with you then Dean and his sexual comments about….” Sam sighed “Those bartenders we meet.” You chuckled. Sam wanted to say you. Dean always making sly comments about how you look. Pissing Sam off to the fullest. You where a hunter, a very capable one at that. You also where very independent. Not to mention… sexy as all hell. “Dean likes those small dresses. He loves the slutty look. I guess what man doesn’t.” You rolled you eyes lathering your body in your Japanese Cherry Blossom body wash Sam gotten for you for Christmas. Remembering you wanted it for months. “Not all men like that look y/n. Skinny black jeans, a flannel shirt and tank top and black combat boots do it for me.” Sam just described your wardrobe too a tee. Sam usually wouldn’t be so blunt. Yet knowing that the curtain was there helped. “Nice to know there not all the same.” Sam laughed at your comment. “How you feeling in there?” Sam said noticing you quit moving after his comment. “di… dizzy..” Sam stood up “I feel like I am going to fa..” Sam opened the shower curtain catching your wet naked body as you fell. He picked you up laying you down on the bed. He grabbed a towel covering you. “Y/N… Y/N??..” Dean opened the door “That cashier was smok..” His eyes went wide. “I can leave…” “No.. she wanted to take a shower, we where talking just fine and she passed out. Lucky I caught her or she could have hit her head.” You woke up slowly looking around. “Sam… what happened? Why did you turn off the water?” “Y/N you passed out. Lets get you dressed.” You nodded. “Dean look away.” “Why do you get to help her?” “Dean just look away!” Sam started to get irritated with his brother, not respecting the boundaries. “Because! She asked me to help her take a shower, I want to make sure she gets covered so she doesn’t get any sicker.” Dean gave a sly smirk to Sam. “I can do it Sammy… Just make sure Dean looks the opposite way.” “I have modesty!” Dean yelled a bit. “As much as a teen going threw puberty watching porn.” You slowly tried to sit up. “Sam, can you handle me my duffle bag?” Sam nodded giving it to you. Your fingers brushing slightly. He smiled at you, his pearly whites showing. You rummaged threw your bag. “Fuck.. not clean shirts..” “Here..” Sam held out one of his flannels. Your mind popped to the conversation you had before you passed out. You put it on buttoning up. “Thanks Sammy.” Of course. “Well There is a strip club down the street so.. If you don’t mind, I got some ladies to see.” You rolled your eyes. “Try not to get any disease please Dean. I love you, but I can’t help you get laid after with other ladies, it goes against my good Conscious.” “Are you saying you won’t be my wing gal. “That is exactly what I am saying.” You laughed, Dean smiled nodding. “You helped him get laid.” “Once or twice. Played the I am his little sister and he is so sweet card.” Sam chuckled rolling his eyes. “What did you get in return?” “I got to drive Baby.” Sam smiled at you. “Oh here.. I had Dean grab your favorite. Popsicles.” You smiled at Sam as he opened the package handing you one. “Can I have one?” “Of course Sammy!” you smiled as you opened the Cherry one. Your favorite. “I hope you don’t get sick cuz of me.” You frowned a bit looking at him. “Naw, I think I would be sick by now. Sam sat next to you on the bed. He put on his laptop, as you two watched Netflix. Sam looked over as you ate the popsicle. Your lips a bright red from the juice staining them, the way you licked the side of it as it melted. He finished his popsicle setting the wrapper in the trash bin next to him. He looked at you intensely. He knew you where sick, but he just wanted a kiss… just one. “I wish I didn’t look so shitty..” Your words snapping him out of his trance. “Your no such thing!” Sam said a little more harsh then wanted. “You always look great.” Sam smiled at you. “I think I am in love with you Sam..” You whispered out randomly. Sams eyes widened. “I am sorry!” You got embarrassed, throwing the popsicle stick in the trash. Hiding under the covers a bit. You felt a large hand on one of your cheeks. You looked over to Sam. His gaze was intense. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. That is why I never said anything..” you whispered. “That could never happen. I love you too y/n.” You felt his lips press against yours. “You are my girl.” Sam smiled at you laying your head on his chest. You both fell asleep watching something on animals. Dean walked into see you snuggling together. “About damn time, I could only come up with so many sexual jokes waiting for him to snap and express his feeling for her.” Dean chuckled a bit, grabbing a beer, laying on the bed as the two love birds slept.

[cookinguptales]

Okay so weird question, but how exactly did you get diagnosed with POTS? I was diagnosed with hypermobility syndrome and partial arrhythmia a while ago, and it's only just recently that I've had a doc wonder if I have POTS. He didn't really tell me anything about POTS, and now I'm really lost! Do you think it's unlikely that I could get to be 21 and not be diagnosed?

Strap in, friend, because the story of how I got diagnosed is long and unpleasant.

So to start off, here’s a basic explanation of Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. It’s a syndrome, which means that it is a description of a collection of symptoms rather than an underlying cause. Frankly, doctors aren’t super sure why any of this happens, what exactly causes it, or even if it’s genetic or what. (But my mom, sister, and grandmother all show signs of mild POTS, so uh. It’s probably genetic.) The long and short of it, though, is that your blood vessels are supposed to automatically tighten or release in order to control blood flow. When you stand up, they tighten to counteract gravity and make sure blood stays where it should be. When you have POTS, your blood vessels don’t do what they’re supposed to do. Your autonomic nervous system stops controlling this tightening and loosening process, which means your blood flow is not being adequately controlled. (Also, there seems to be some research showing that #1, we tend to have more elastic blood vessels, which means they just expand when they fill up more – bad because that means your body can’t use blood pressure to regulate blood flow, either, and #2, we may not always have enough blood in our bodies to fill our blood vessels, so again, shitty blood pressure.) ANYWAY, what all this means in practice is that assorted parts of your body aren’t getting enough blood, or they’re getting too much blood. Blood does all sorts of important things for your organs, especially oxygenating them, so this really means that POTS is an “anything that can go wrong will go wrong” situation. Anything in your body that uses blood can go haywire at any time. And sorry to say, that’s everything.

Now, POTS is highly variable. Again, it’s a loose collection of symptoms, and those symptoms are different for literally every patient. POTS is actually super common in teenage girls, but it tends to be very mild and some teens (mostly boys, mind) completely grow out of it, so people often don’t even notice they have it. People only just started researching it and it’s still not talked about much, which, well, is probably due to sexism. I learned the hard way that teenage girls are not generally listened to when they complain about nebulous symptoms, especially if those symptoms have literally anything to do with hormones and menstruation. (Which POTS does. It’s…I think ¾ of all people who have it are biologically female, and onset usually accompanies periods of hormone fluctuation such as start of menstruation, childbirth, or start of menopause. Most sufferers get it in their teens when they start getting their period.) Like… It’s hard to really put this in a gender neutral way because I promise you, the reason doctors are shitty about POTS is tied to both the biological and societal effects of being female. That’s an aside though.

Anyway, tl;dr, it’s different for everyone and doctors think you’re nuts. When I was diagnosed, in the informational packet literally said “THIS IS NOT ALL IN YOUR HEAD” because so many patients have been repeatedly told that. For me, I was actually uh. I don’t want to say lucky? But in some ways I guess, yeah, lucky. I have a really bad case of POTS with some really severe symptoms. I have a lot of digestion problems, extreme exhaustion problems, dizziness, faintness, anxiety/depression, pooling/tingling/coldness in extremities, and here’s the biggie – blindness. When I stand up, I often just straight-up go blind. (Or if I’m just sitting there doing fucking nothing if I’m on an airplane.) It was really bad especially when I was a teenager. It used to be like literally every fucking time I stood up. (We later found out it was because all the blood was draining out of my head bc gravity. Turns out your brain likes blood! This is also why it hurts so much.) Now, doctors ignored most of what I told them about exhaustion, trouble keeping down food, aches and pains, etc. I was repeatedly told “oh, well, that’s just part of being a teenage girl”. Like honestly, try telling someone that you have exhaustion, pain, and nausea relating to a period and see how seriously you get taken. Jesus.

BUT UH THEY COULD NOT IGNORE THE BLINDNESS. Like I don’t care how teenage girl-y you are, it is not normal to go blind on the regular! My doctors could not figure out what the hell was happening. And I do mean doctors. I got POTS when I was around 10, along with my period. I was diagnosed when I was almost 18. In the meantime, I was passed around between dozens of doctors and honestly? I was a guinea pig. They didn’t know what was wrong with me so I was subjected to constant barrage of tests and treatments that made me a hell of a lot sicker. I was going to like 3 different doctors a week, sometimes every day. There are very few medical tests I have not had at least once. Some of the treatments they tried, I later learned, carried a strong risk of addiction, permanent neurological damage, and death. I was a drugged-out mess trying to drag myself through 15 flavors of physical therapy every day. Like uh. In short, my teenage years weren’t…good… 

I finally got referred to like my sixth neurologist, and the guy was like “okay, you have been passed around between neurologists, cardiologists, ENTs, sleep disorder specialists, etc. for YEARS and we don’t know what’s wrong, so it makes no sense to keep ‘treating’ you – so I’m gonna take some readings and send them (and you) to a research hospital”. And that’s what he did! He took me off all of my medications (leading to the kind of DTs that honestly possibly could have killed me; I researched a few of the medications later and let’s just say you’re not supposed to go off them cold turkey) and did some tests. He found out some stuff like my blood pressure moves around a lot when I stand up. And sometimes my blood pressure was as low as 60/40. (Yo, that’s almost dead. The nurse took the reading three times with two different machines bc she was freaking out, lmao.) So he referred me to Mayo Clinic.

Now, what I did not know before this was that Mayo was actually the clinic that had discovered (and still researched) POTS! They saw a lot of girls like me. They took some blood, did a few tests, and when I had my appointment with them, they knew in under a half hour that I had POTS. I…cried. A lot. haha. It was so bizarre how many things in my life were actually an indicator of POTS. They were like “do you often sit all folded up?” and I basically exclusively do – and often got in trouble for it in school – and they were like “yeah, that’s POTS, you unconsciously try to keep all your limbs tucked in to reduce how far your blood needs to go”. Which is, I guess, why I tend to lose sensation in my legs and/or have my feet turn purple when I sit in normal chairs. lol. “Do you ever get dizzy or black out when you stretch or yawn?” oh yeah. “Do you get really sick when you take hot showers?” almost died once or twice, check! “Do you get weak when you lift things above your head?” you betcha. “Do you have a lot of problems with heat and sunlight?” OH YES I DO. Living in Florida was hell. I’d be vomiting and unable to stand up after like 30 minutes outside in the summer. I still vomit and get migraines if I look at a sunset, when the sun is strongest. Sensory sensitivity, especially photosensitivity, is a thing with POTS.

The actual diagnosis of POTS is kind of difficult. They usually have to do a ton of tests to rule everything else out first. Then they’ll usually try a tilt-table test (they tilt ya and measure your heart rate to see if your heartbeat skyrockets to help battle your blood doing weird shit) or a sweat test (which I am told is supposed to be painless but was one of the most painful experiences of my life so maybe it was a POTS thing) or look at your pee and see if you’re hella dehydrated. If you have POTS, you’re pretty much always hella dehydrated. (Gross but important: a symptom I never mentioned bc I didn’t know how abnormal it was – it burned like HELL when I peed. Turns out I was grossly, dangerously dehydrated. My urine was so concentrated that it was literally burning my urethra. idk how this slipped by so many doctors, but drink some dang water!) So it’s really a combination of tests for diagnosis, and they have to know to look for it in the first place! More and more doctors know about POTS now, but when I was first diagnosed almost a decade ago (this February! :’) when I went to college none of the school doctors knew about it. My family doctor didn’t know. None of my specialists knew about it. They wouldn’t give me student vaccinations bc they didn’t know how they’d interact with my brain. lol. It’s better now, though! I recently got a new doctor when I left my school’s health system, and she knew what POTS was! I was so happy, haha. Once I had a doctor literally google it right in front of me, so it was uh. A welcome change.

All this is to say that getting POTS diagnosed can be hell!! And I could definitely buy that you’re 21 and haven’t yet been diagnosed, especially if you’re female. My recommendation is this: the main treatment for POTS is diet and exercise, and that can’t hurt even if you don’t have POTS. I shit you not. There’s no cure or anything, but you are supposed to drink A LOT of water (I drink over a gallon a day, and that’s on days I’m not dealing with the sun) and eat a LOT of salt (”as much as you can stand” was their exact wording) and wear compression clothing (spanx and compression socks help me) and try to keep your body as toned as possible. It’s really easy to get out of shape when you have POTS (god knows I did), but they recommend trying to keep your blood moving. (THOUGH, CAVEAT!! I put on a lot of weight since I got diagnosed, and I have to admit. It’s gotten my blood pressure to a healthier level. So idrk what to make of that.)

I’m not gonna tell you to start eating massive amounts of salt when I don’t know your body, but drinking water can’t hurt you. So if you suspect that you may have POTS, start drinking water. This is not a replacement for a treatment plan, but it can’t hurt you! It can only help! So while you’re working with your doctor, just drink a lot of water and see if it helps you feel better. It is like night and fucking day with me.

Finally, POTS has a high comorbidity rate with other issues. In other words, if you have a severe case of POTS, you probably don’t only have POTS. A common illness to have with POTS is EDS, or Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. It’s a type of hypermobility, which may be why your doctor is concerned. (I don’t have EDS, probably, but I do have some pain/movement issues that they’ve never been able to pin down, so there’s probably…something. idk.)

Here’s my advice. Work with your doctor to try and figure things out. Drink water. Make sure you have a good doctor whom you trust. Even after I got diagnosed, I regularly got medical professionals who believed this shit was all in my head. And try not to worry. Like I said, for most people who have it, POTS is extremely mild. If you change your lifestyle, you might not see many symptoms at all, and if you do, well. Work with that trusted doctor. Hit me up. I know a lot of ways to get a lot of salt in your body. lol

[artificialqueens]

We've Got Tonite (Jivy/Shalaska/Trixya/Pearlet) Part 2 - Saiphl

A/N: Not so much to say, hope you enjoy the reading or re-reading, I’m very thankful from your support and the love showed to the first part of the story, so I hope you enjoy this second part as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Part Two: So Many Stories of where I’ve been, and how I got to where I am.

All the Drag Race family was gathered in the VIP area, having animated conversations, dancing, drinking and throwing some shade. All the previous Reigning Queens were called to a photoshoot with the new member of the royal family. While Chad was holding a slightly drunk Sharon to help her down the stairs of the section, Jinkx, Bebe and Raja were teasing Tyra. All of this, just before Bianca went straight to get them to have the stupid session finished so she could get back to Adore and Courtney. Both of which were waiting for her to start toasting for every single thing that came to their minds.

“And all of my friends who think that I’m blessed

They don’t know my head’s a mess…”

Surrounded by the music, the dark lights and the chit-chat of Detox and Roxxxy, there was someone that was following without failure the red-haired MILF from Seattle with her eyes. Ivy was so busy trying to keep an eye on Jinkx, that she didn’t notice when Detox asked for Keith. Actually, she just got back to earth when she heard Roxxxy teasing her about making herself so interesting as far as she knew for sure that Keith bought an engagement ring before going back to Michigan.

Ivy felt suddenly sick when Roxxxy asked for the ring that she saw Keith buying and looking for it on her finger. But even sicker when the awkward silence came after both of her fellow queens realized that she wasn’t wearing any jewel on her left hand. And how it had always been, Jinkx just appeared from nowhere with the most perfect timing, to virtually drag her to the bar for a drink.  

“Honey, are you okay?” Jinkx asked, watching over Ivy’s pale face, who slightly nodded.

“I… I’m just a mess,” she responded. Jinkx then took her to the back door of the club. Even when the beautiful butterfly left her heartbroken a few weeks ago, she still was her friend, and she would never leave a friend in distress alone.

Once they were out, Jinkx simply hugged the sobbing Ivy, who by the time was actually shaking and barely able to keep herself on her feet.

“Baby you’re making me really worried. What happened? Those bitches were mean to you?” This time was Jerick talking to Dustin, not Jinkx comforting Ivy. “If they did something to you, I will put them in their place and…”

Ivy straightens her back to look at Jerick’s worried eyes. She gives a small pathetic laugh and shakes her head. It was endearing how worried Jerick was over her - it made her feel important.

“No darling, they didn’t do any harm. It’s just me who can’t keep my own shit together,” Dustin answers, with raspy shaken voice. She takes a few moments of silence to build up the courage to speak. “Roxxxy knew that Keith was proposing, she saw him buying the ring. Both she and Detox were looking for it on my hand.”

As a reflex, Jerick took Dustin’s hand on his, and felt paralyzed at finding the naked finger.

“Because even when I was flat broke

You made me feel like a million bucks…”

Sharon was shaky and not at all from the booze. No, for once it was from the dizziness that came with knowing that sooner or later she would find Alaska, and the both of them wouldn’t be able to say anything, because as it had always been that way between them. The longest wordless conversations, that silent understanding that led them to share the bedroom, to get tangled with each other. And to have those nasty fights that ended with the both of them wasted, high, angry, and in the end, separated and broken.

So no, Sharon didn’t want to find her, but she knew she would and it was sooner than she thought, ‘cause when they finished the photoshoot with Violet, she found herself alone in the way back. The AAA girls were giving an interview about the last campaign they were making and Sharon almost tripped down the steps when her eyes met Alaska’s face.

As it would always be, Alaska was all smiles and flattery. Like a mermaid, elusively moving around the place even when she wasn’t moving at all, the long nails were clacking over the glass of her untouched cranberry vodka. She looked most beautiful than ever, even for someone that had just a year dropped, and just like a fly Sharon started to pace around, looking at her, wondering if Alaska missed her as much as she has all this time.  Just for a second, their eyes met, and Alaska lost her smile for a second - only to recover it when she embraced Willam and Courtney, allowing the reporter to make a couple of pictures of their smiling faces and finally let them go. Willam and Courtney easily found someone to entertain themselves with, and Alaska found herself in front of the bar, with the untouched vodka drink. Silently checking on Sharon’s approach from  the corner of her eye. She felt her hands get sweaty, just like the first time they met.

Sharon smiles shyly - so out of character for her usual abrasive and upfront personality. After they broke up she always wanted to get closer to her, and whenever she tried to do it in a non-work-related way, it always ended messed up. So this time, pretending to be more drunk than she really was, she approached Alaska.

“Hey Gorgeous!” Sharon calls playfully, with a twisted smile on her darkened lips.

“Hi stranger,” Alaska replies in a raspy low voice. Both of them laugh and it’s more than they have done together in the last year.

“It’s been a while and I haven’t been back at Pittsburgh for some time, how you doin’?” asked the queen in green, quietly smiling at Sharon, who was authentically blushing from watching Alaska’s smile.

“I haven’t been at home lately either. The tour got me out from Pittsburgh more than six months, I miss being there already and…” Sharon doubted for a second, and the look on Alaska’s face was pure curiosity.

As if they were sharing a hive mind, they simultaneously said, “I’ve missed you.”

The awkwardness of that confession was broken as fast as it started, and it broke with one of crowd’s guest asking to have a picture with them. After a few words and some goodbye kisses, Alaska and Sharon were left alone, and found themselves walking through the people to find a quieter place to share a moment. They didn’t need a time together in some years, but that moment was just a breaking point, and when they finally reached a relatively calmed spot on the backstage, they looked into each other eyes.  

“I…” Sharon started, clearly finding hard to put her thoughts together. Maybe she was as drunk as she had been acting. “I’m so sorry, I know we promised to keep being friends and count on each other, and that I broke my word so many times.”

She said all this with a mixture of shame, sorrow and rage towards herself, and finally put her head down. She couldn’t dare look Alaska in the eyes. “I promised to be with you whenever you need me, and I’ve failed so badly.”

Alaska trembles for a second, and then sighs. Her next words are spoken in a whisper. “I know. We promised so many things to each other, and we weren’t able to keep our words.”

“We just messed things up, with us, with the careers, with everything… now everything is going well but I still think that there’s something missing,” Alaska tilts Sharon’s chin up with one finger. “and I still think that the missing thing is you in my life. I don’t know if that’s right, but, it’s the way I feel.”

Sharon sighs deeply and puts her arms around Alaska’s waist.

“You see the smile that’s on my mouth

It’s hiding the words that don’t come out…”

Trixie was still on her skates, there was something on rolling over the floor that led her to a state of full mental peace… or maybe just gave her something to concentrate with instead of letting her head fly to those tricky territories again. Even more so when the performances of the other competitors were about to end and she needed a quick escape for whatever could put its face in front of her. Basically, she needed not to think and just keep moving, wherever the hell could it take her to.  

For Katya it was different, she was ecstatic - watching everything from the most hidden corner she could reach. By this point she had survived a flight back from Boston to NYC, she had survived the fact of checking in to the hotel room, she survived the red carpet, all those damned interviews and the hideous photo sessions after that. But most of all, she managed to survive the urge to get a drink, or the other urge to have a cigarette and the worse of all of the urges: to have Trixie close and being unable to touch her the way she wanted to.

Suddenly, Katya felt so tired. Before she arrived to the party, she thought seriously on hooking up with some random guy at the place. That was so easy to get, many fans wanted to know for sure if Katya was the sassy hooker she claimed to be. But when it was about to happen, she just decided it was that easy, that she didn’t want it anymore. In fact, as far as she could remember, she  had been dick deprived for a long while. She didn’t have a guy since that night, when she tricked Trixie for the simple taste of her lips, and for some reason it had been enough… at least for her, at least for the last couple of months, while they were complying with the multiple bookings to accomplish before the crowning.  

Trixie was rolling all over the place, when some distracted one stepped down the stairs. Someone that was stuck within a bleached blond wig and a black sequin dress, and casually tripped on one of Trixie’s skates. The doll was about to apologize for being so distracted, when the voice of Katya caught her attention, pressing a brake on the floor and to keep her arm steady to help the other one to get back to her feet. All the people were too busy watching Ginger performing, so busy that no one even noticed when Katya looked straight to Trixie’s eyes. Or even when Trixie held Katya by the waist, so close that the tuck of the both of them had were in a serious risks of being broken, ‘cause unconsciously they grinded a bit on each other by the proximity.  

“Take me out of here bitch,” Katya murmured in Trixie´s ear and she, being so eager to please, took Katya’s hand. Making a way for the both of them across the people on the place.

“I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules

But baby I broke them all for you…”

Pearl had just came down from the stage when they announced Violet’s performance. The people craved to see the reigning queen show her skilled ass on the stage, specially after the crowning and the show of all the other competitors of that season.  

Violet came out showing all smiles and that vintage elegance that has been her trademark all along, and Pearl’s heart skipped a beat when she saw her climbing up the strings of fabric. The strength and the fluency of movement, the graceful way she was dancing in the air, tangled with the two long ribbons. When Violet fell down to her back looking to the crowd, their eyes met, and Pearl could feel her mouth going dry. Even more so when Violet’s lips formed the word “come” that made her cock ache with need.

Everything had been subtle between them. First a supportive smile from one to another, then a sympathetic hug when needed, even the time spent together out of the set, out of the world. That epic battle of wisdom with their benefactor that led them to share space, drinks, pot and finally a bed that allowed them to entangle with each other. Sharing lips, skin, caresses and endless passion, that started with just one kiss and became something bigger. Something that no one could sniff out, even Ginger’s expert eyes or Kennedy’s natural nosiness were able to notice.

That evening, when the three of them were waiting for the winner’s announcement, it was just a reflex when Violet put her hands on Pearl’s thigh, when Pearl circled Violet’s waist with her arm, and then, when they were embraced. A whisper that said “Congrats bae… I love you”, the instant smile that was put on Violet’s face, and the dreamy eyes that Pearl fixated on her while she was walking away to her crown… after that, they couldn’t find a second to share their joy. They actually hadn’t been able to meet each other in less than four hours, and when Pearl watched her performing, that little voice inside her head told her to get ready to say goodbye, ‘cause she would be left behind… again.

Pearl got her feet back to earth when she heard the crowd burst in applause, and the club’s staff was making Violet’s way back to the dress rooms safe, when she passed besides Pearl, she dared to take her hand and pull her a bit, inviting to follow that path.  At that point of the night, Violet was ready to kill whoever who dared to interrupt her little break, specially when she heard Pearl’s heels clacking behind them on the hallway, a sigh of relief escaped Violet’s lips when she found herself alone in the dressing room, a few seconds later, Pearl managed to sneak there and the instant their eyes meet again, nothing stopped them from crashing into each other’s lips.

Hands in movement, entangled bodies and a rain of whispered I love yous filling the air.

“We shouldn’t…” Pearl whispered, finding herself unable to release Violet’s tiny waist from the tight grip of her own arm, while Violet answered biting her earlobe.

“I don’t care, I got the crown, this is over, and I want you… I need you now.” Those simple words made Pearl’s blood boil, tightening the grip on her lover even more.  They’ve started rolling all over the place, touching, kissing, teasing each other. The magic was only broken when someone knocked the door, asking for Violet to be available in five.

“No they don’t know who I really am

And they don’t know what I’ve been through

Like you do, and I was made for you.”

[panicattackhelp-blog1]

My Story: A Battle Against Panic Attacks

New Post has been published on http://keyofprosperity.com/my-story-a-battle-against-panic-attacks/

My Story: A Battle Against Panic Attacks

My name is Mike. I was your typical fun-loving college kid. At 18 years old, something happened that changed my life. I had experienced a panic attack. I called my mom, crying at the time, and told her that I was dying. I scared the living hell out of her, she thought that I was physically harmed. However, I began explaining to her what was going on.

She told me to settle down, that I was having a panic attack. I had NO idea what she was talking about nor did I want to even begin to believe that it was only a mere panic attack. What in the hell was a panic attack anyways? I was certain that I was dying. I made my way home, driving while having this horrid panic attack. Once home, I begged my mom to take me to the Emergency Room. They would know for certain what to do for me and how to keep me alive. I was dying, I knew it for sure.

 My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest.

 I can’t breathe.

 I can’t stop shaking.

 My hands are like ice.

 Everything is spinning.

 I’m gasping for air.

 I have to get out of here…NOW!

We arrived at the Emergency Room. They took me right away, because I told them about my chest pains. I knew for a fact that it was my heart. They had to do whatever it is that they do to keep me alive. They instantly put me in a wheelchair. This solidified it; definitely my heart…definitely going to die. They began wheeling me to my room. My thoughts were racing…

 Will I have to go through open heart surgery

 They need to give me oxygen…now!

 Do I need a stent, maybe it’s a closed artery.

 How does the heart work, I NEED TO KNOW NOW!

 Maybe it’s a stroke, how do those work?

 Can cancer do this. Do I have cancer?

 Somebody needs to figure this out…NOW!

We finally reached my room. My head went numb. I felt so strange and weak, but like I was ready to get up and RUN as fast as I could. The nurse came over to take my pulse. I froze in horror, surely my pulse would indicate heart failure? She said, “Your blood pressure is slightly elevated and your pulse is high”.

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? AM I HAVING A HEART-ATTACK?!”, I yelled. She said, (almost laughingly), “You’re having a panic attack. You’ll be fine. You just need to calm down.” This response confused me. Could mom and this nurse know something? They DID put me in a wheelchair. Maybe the lady in registration knew something that this nurse didn’t know. That HAD to be it.

The nurse put an oxygen meter on my finger. “Your oxygen is at 99%”, she said. “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? IS THAT BAD?? AM I HAVING A STROKE???” Again, she almost laughingly replied, “That’s VERY good. You aren’t having a stroke. It’s anxiety. The doctor will be in soon.”

As she walked out of the room, I started thinking more and more. Something is off. This never happened before. It’s a gut-wrenching feeling. If they knew how I felt, they’d make this a bigger priority. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. That’s literally the ONLY thing I could think of.

Another nurse came in with needles. Cancer. It has to be cancer. They want to know what kind of cancer I have. Oh no! Cancer. I started to cry. The nurse said, “Are you afraid of needles?”. Wait…what? The cancer thoughts started leaving my mind. Shoud I be afraid of needles? I guess I should. She’s asking me if I’m afraid of needles for a reason. I never was afraid of them before. Yes, that’s it. There’s something dangerous about needles. I replied, “Why? Should I be??”. She was nice and said, “I do this all day, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” I calmed down for a minute. I forgot about probably having cancer that kills you in an instant. She left, that part actually went fast.

Another nurse came in with a computer and wires. What in the HELL is going on, I started to worry even more. She said, “The doctor wants to do an EKG. This will tell us if there’s anything wrong with your heart.”. My panic rose to new heights. I could feel my heart beating in both of my arms. This is how it ends; 18 and dead in a hospital. I was fine when I woke up today and now I’m dying!

She took out sticky pads and stuck them to my chest. This was real. Somebody back there is thinking, “This kid is gonna die, we better cover our asses”. Finally, after what felt like 20 pads attached to wires, she turned on this machine. It started drawing on paper. What in the HELL did it say. It’s telling them something and they aren’t talking.

After the LONGEST 2 minutes of my life, the nurse took off each of those sticky pads. She said “These are going to hurt when they come off, because you are hairy.”. I yelled, “RIP THEM OFF, I DON’T CARE!!!”. I even ripped some off. Get me out of this damn machine, right now!

My mind was racing even faster. This is it, I’m dying. Why haven’t I died yet. I don’t know? I can’t stop shaking. I’m weak, I’m dizzy. Please help me. The door opened.

It was a guy in a different overcoat, he looked important. “Hello Mike. I’m the doctor. What seems to be the trouble today?”, he said in the most indifferent, mellow unconcerned voice. “I’m DYING. I have chest pains. I can’t breathe. Please help me!!!!”, I said. He said, “Your EKG came back fine, as did all of your vitals. You are having a panic attack.”

The conversation between me and that doctor got heated, at least on my side. After some intensive convincing, he made me realize that I wasn’t dying…that it was, in fact, a panic attack. I was at the hospital for 5 hours in total. When it was time to leave, I felt worn out, drained and depressed.

I went back home. I took a few days off from going back to college. I worried about my grades, what was happening to me and how to make it get better. I wish I could say, “It got better right away”, but it did not. Not because there isn’t a cure for panic attacks, but because nobody told me what to do. Sure, people said “Don’t be stressed”, “Don’t worry”, “Don’t think about things that give you stress”, “Just be happy”. As you probably guessed, those do not work. It’s a nice thought, but I needed something actionable that I could take with me to beat these things.

I went to my primary care physician. For a few years, YEARS I’m taking, I put my faith in him. His strategy was this; put me on a bunch of random drugs. Literally, there’s no other way to explain it. At one point, he had me on medications that don’t mix and should have killed me. He turned me into a hypochondriac. I would read about everything, interactions, what goes with what. I mean, if my doctor doesn’t know, I HAVE to know…right?

One of the drugs he had me on made me paranoid and suicidal. I knew the feelings and never acted on the suicide, but it was unreal. I can only explain it like this…You know how you feel when you have to go to the restroom really bad? It’s the same feeling about killing yourself and every minute that you don’t do it is painful. I’d writhe in agony. I took that damn medicine for a year, I was told my both a counselor and my doctor that it was me, not the medication. I believe that medication does work and does have its place, I also believe that not all meds jive with everybody. It’s a guessing game. At any rate, I stopped that drug…COLD TURKEY. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was sure better than the paranoia and the suicidal feeling.

Throughout my 20s, I struggled really bad with panic attacks. They changed me, my life, who I was, what I liked and my overall being. I took nearly every drug prescribed to overcome them. Here are some of the highlights of what I went through…

 I spent an entire summer in my room, I couldn’t even go downstairs to eat.

 I went to the emergency room 7 times in 1 week. I was sure I was dying. (It was panic attacks)

 I could no longer go distances away from my home. As soon as I left, I had a panic attack.

 Talking to people gave me anxiety.

 I couldn’t go into stores, I would have a panic attack.

 I couldn’t swallow for a period of time.

 I went through a YEAR of insomnia, barely sleeping ever.

 Physical exertion would cause panic attacks.

I turned 30. 12 years of panic attacks. I tried natural remedies, literally everything I could think of. Still having these damn panic attacks. I started exercising, running the treadmill like it was my job. I did the couch to 5k. I actually started feeling better once I got through the initial anxiety of physical exertion. But something else happened. I started getting sick. I assumed it was my overall stress, 12 years of it probably had some poor effect on my stomach.

I kept getting sicker and sicker. I lost 65 lbs in 1 year. Something was massively off. It was my gallbladder, it had to come out. Panic set in. I fought gallbladder attacks for a whole year. Finally, one day I was so sick that I couldn’t take the pain any more. I went to the hospital. I never was so afraid in my life. I prayed to God like you wouldn’t believe. And I never felt closer to God in my life.

I remember laying in pre-op before the meds. All I could think about was my wife, my son, the other baby in my wife’s pregnant stomach, my mom, my dad and how much I loved them all. How nothing in the world meant more to me than my family. My extended family. How much love I had for them all. Literally, all I could think about was my love for everybody.

This nurse came back and said, “You’re gonna love me, I’m your anesthesiologist”. I was having the panic attack to end all panic attacks. Crying, yelling, shaking…certain I was going to die. She gave me a shot….

I started singing “Scarlet Begonias” by The Grateful Dead. Laughing, joking and smiling. My family looked upset, but even they laughed at my antics. I remember laying down on that cold operating table and joking with all the people around me. It went black.

I woke up screaming. Intense pain. It hurt to talk. I could get two words out “Pain. Now”. Over and over again. Then the pain disappeared and I was back in happy land.

Night came and my pregnant wife is sitting there with me. The meds wore off. What in the HELL was I coming down off of. I couldn’t move, the pain was too intense. I had to sit and deal with panic attacks, coming down off of serious meds and not knowing what to do. I was nasty, God bless my wife for understanding.

I realized something. I made it through my biggest fear: surgery. Not only that, I came down off of meds. Something started to change within me. God was there, I know he was…I could feel him. Also, something in my mind began to change.

I started reading. Personal development. Investing in myself and trying things to overcome anxiety. Some worked great, some didn’t do much of anything and other things made it worse.

What helps with panic attacks

I suffered for a long time. And I spent a long time reading. Let me tell you, I’ve found things that work wonders for panic attacks. I want to help you, just like I wanted somebody to help me all those years ago. What happened to me changed me. Even if you hated me, I’d still want to help you. Nobody wants to go through panic attacks, they are HORRIBLE. I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy.

I’ve made it my goal to help people get over panic attacks. I don’t want you to suffer. Here’s how I want to help you. I’m going to send you an email every day, telling you the things I’ve done to overcome panic attacks. I’m going to show you the things that work. I’m going to explain what causes them and how to get rid of them. In life, I’ve figured one thing out: Panic Attacks. If I don’t know anything else in the world, I know panic attacks.

I’ve learned a very powerful lesson. It’s one thing to seek advice from a psychologist, psychiatrist, therapist, family doctor. But if they’ve never suffered from panic attacks, what can they offer you? Medication is a great short-term solution to your problem.

 I’ll teach you coping mechanisms.

 I’ll teach you how to find the root cause of your panic attacks.

 I’ll teach you how to understand yourself.

 I’l teach you how to stop YOUR panic attacks.

I’m not a doctor. I have a background in psychology and computer science. I’m analytical and logical. But I have something that no doctor can offer you; 12 years of panic attacks and what I did to get rid of them. I’ve helped many people get over their panic attacks and I want to help you too.

My method works for anybody, because it forces you to examine yourself and to listen. It doesn’t fix an abusive past. It doesn’t cure cancer. It doesn’t make a loved one come back. It doesn’t get you your job back. It DOES give you the ability to shut off the noise and to find peace in your life. Isn’t peace the one thing that you are missing? Don’t you miss having that joy that you once had? I know I did.

I’ve put together this blog to help you and everybody else that’s been suffering with these horrible panic attacks.  If I can help one person, I’ll be happy.  It’s miserable to feel alone and lost with panic attacks.  I can only say that I wish somebody would have told me what steps to take a long time ago.  I learned from my own mistakes.  Let me tell you one encouraging thing…Your panic attacks WILL pass!  You might not believe me, but I’m being 100% honest with you.  They eventually go away.  If you try the things that I’ve blogged about on this website, you will start to overcome them faster.  Hang in there!