#im so sick and on so many pain meds

[neet-elite]

im really delirious on pain meds atm so that's why i've been absent haha but i wanted to ramble a little about potential future plans for the game im making/ why here instead of the blog? because they're dream scenarios that might not come to fruition and i dont wanna let anyone down by posting abt them on the main game blog at @degenerate-game. anyway,

i wanna implement a phone system, where you can text and call NPC's, as well as receive random text and calls FROM NPC's throughout days. i want there to be special conditions met for specific texts and images, for example: have a love interest high enough and they might try to convince you to skip work by sending you nudes, begging for you to come and "help" them >:D

ID cards that contain the PC's stats, relationships, etc. i wanna make chibi versions of all the character creator items so that it reflects perfectly on whatever you choose. maybe also ID cards that you can collect from all the love interests with special info? there's gonna be an inventory system so it's possible :D

gods. i wanna create a detailed religious system that involve many gods, and eventually have them be romanceable too after tedious worship and offerings. maybe also tie specific gods to specific love interests? something about gods. want to allow the PC to pick a god (or none at all!) to provide offerings to for... something. like benefits, idk, i just thought of this today so it's not fleshed out at all lmao.

and somewhat related to gods: titles. i want there to be in game PC titles related to what you end up doing in the game. Mimi the Newbie for example of the begginer one? idk i also just thought of this today too, but gods would have titles like "God of Tradition". the PC could have something like: Dog of Lucas, if they decide to go Lucas's route. i dunno i just think it'd be a neat detail to at a glance see what route you're going down from the title.

little windows into rooms on the playable screen that have clickable areas to them. Rather than always clicking links to progress, it could be cool to for example… go to work as a barista, and click on the coffee machine to start work, or the door to leave, and maybe a love interest shows up while you're working and you can click on them to have an event or something.

[orcelito]

Omfg I never actually posted about this but just like 2 days ago I realized that no it is Not normal to experience lightheadedness near daily when I've gone just a little too long without eating

I looked it up and apparently lightheadedness/dizziness CAN be a part of fibromyalgia (which I think I have for a number of different reasons), so like. It all makes sense.

Fuckin fibromyalgia. It's the source of like 95% of my physical problems, I swear. Every Damn Thing can be traced back to it. What a pain.

[skenpiel]

homestuck fans when theres no rhyme or reason to the trickster designs and its literally just a jumbled mess of hideous colors and vague candy themes which means theres no consistency to analyze to help with making fan designs

[chartreusebird]

I'm sure it seems like a reasonable thing to do in the heat of the moment, contemplating PTO and having to close early at the last minute and whether u can get someone in to cover so you don't have to close but that would make it even more last minute and whatever tf else bosses be thinking... but

It should be so fuckingggg illegal to have a worker come to you in so much pain that she's willing to lose pay that she desperately needs to support her 2 kids and disabled fiance and say she needs to leave early, and to just say. No. You can't leave. And she can't! She would be leaving people dangerously un-cared-for if she left without permission! And also breaking the law!

[flamingo--ing]

its literally like which disorder is causing what?? at this point its just "nothing works, sorry" and then i have to figure it out

[paleweave]

my knee started swelling yesterday and I was in a lot of pain and I asked my manager if she could get me an ice pack and she sent me hobbling all the way to the back to make an ice pack but there was no plastic bags and then a different manager said we have instant cold compresses in the first aid kits so I get in the first aid kit and it's mostly empty. I go back up front and ask my manager if there's any way she can get an ice pack from somewhere because at this point I'm in so much pain from limping back and forth across the store that I think I'm gonna cry. she tells me to shake it off and get back on my register. very cool. very helpful.

[diejager]

Something crazy lol

How would the monster 141 guys react to hunter sneezing so hard their nose starts bleeding? cold is crazy where I am that this just happened

Cw: weird medical thing, blood, bloody nose, tell me if I missed any.

You caught a fever on the last mission, having to treck through the cold, rural regions of Finland, your bodies victim to the biting frost and staying in an abandoned bunker turned safe house for a few days resulted with that. As a medic - the medic of the Task Force - you knew what to do and what not to do, it was implemented in your training to rid of a cold or small sickness as quick as possible for a weakened body. They naturally flock you like worried mothers once you’re back on base, whenever someone was free, they’d tail you around the base, helping you with things if you had trouble with it because of your runny nose and dazed mind. They became your shadows, a perpetual shape following you from behind or the side.

It was expected from you to help even when you were sick, wearing a mask around people, taking care to avoid infecting others with your strand, and eating farther from your team or in the safety of your room where you wouldn’t worry about sharing the contagion while you ate. You took your medications on a regular schedule, a pill of ibuprofen for the aches, your pounding head, your throbbing joints and general soreness, and acetaminophen for your growing fever. You estimated, from prior experience, that your fever would break a week or two in when you took care to drink water, ate correctly, took your meds and slept regularly, but it persisted. Your fever was like a pest, consistent and stubbornly staying in your system. 

It got to the point that your nose became much too irritated, sensitive to the slightest touch or whenever you sneezed again and again. Your nose pained you with everything you did, and after one too many sneeze, something ruptured. You splattered blood on the inside of your mask after a painful sneeze, a raspy cough following it and a flurry of panic from them. Throwing away any caution and self-consideration for their health to hurry to your side, worried hands pawing at you and whispering their concerns at your sudden bloody nose. 

If they were worried about you before, now they were extremely concerned. Price had you confined to your room, tied down to your bed and left under watch with at least one man by your side, and they ignored every little complaints and huffs you threw at them. Ghost and Horangi had to manhandle you to your bed, laying your head on the soft pillow Alejandro and Rudy went on a hunt for and covering - wrapping you in with how much you struggled against them - you with a thick and warm blanket that Gaz went to the trouble of buying on a sudden whim. 

The sergeants had more time on hand, rerouting to your room so often that they lived with you, entertaining you when you grew bored from reading novels and watching a série or documentary on your tablet. They made you laugh and made your moments less depressing. Ghost and the colonels had less time to visit, but they came whenever they could, always bringing a plate of sweets or a snack to fix your occasional hunger; Ghost with his chip bag, König with his pastry, and Alejandro with his spiced food. Price was the busiest man of the team, glued to his desk and old and used chair, signing paperwork and having to think of a temporary replacement for you, but he still had time to pass at night or after he ate, bringing you a plate from the mess hall. 

You hated being sick, it went against all you stood for and it ultimately made your Task Force worry and fuss about you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[olive-fics]

Abby Anderson comforting you on your period *giggles and twirls hair*

VERY SMALL NSFW JOKE AT END NOT PROOF READ IM SLEEPY!

-Simple Abby headcannons and how she would comfort you on your period. Fluff

-Mention of blood ofc don't act surprised.

For the girls and the gays, Men DNI !!!!!!! (Please)

-Abby is the type of girl to come over at any given time of the day just because you texted her you feel sick from your period. "Abby,My cramps hurt so bad-” “On my way princess.” anything. JHFDJKGHNDF.

-Abby would tell you a time she’d be there and end up late, why? Because she was looking for one of her hoodies you enjoy so much and she was at the local Walgreen’s picking up your favorite snacks, drinks, tylenol (cramp relief meds), pajamas or a throw blanket for you. (Walgreens is a drugstore btw!)

-Comforting Abby would let you sit on her lap, lay on her, anything. She wanted you to be comfy.

-Abby could handle blood unlike many who find it gross. Abby thought that was ignorant and rude and she wants you to always be comfy around her. She adored you. <3

-As much as Abby always gives you her full attention, she always makes sure to give you more attention when aching like this. She knows how needy or clingy you can get, Abby would shower you with kisses, hugs, and sometimes gifts.

-Omfg I feel like Abby would give the best like back rubs or scalp massages with her muscular fingers. Abby wouldn’t stop after like 5 min either with the lame excuse of like “My hands are tired..” She would keep going until you either fell asleep or told her enough.

-Abby would carry you literally everywhere, bathroom, Bedroom, Kitchen too if you didn't already make Abby get you everything.

-Abby didn’t mind your mood swings if you even got them around her, she would take them calmly, never yell back and always let you come back when you’re ready. (Idk if that makes sense but like she’s giving u time and that’s hot LOL)

-Back to the Abby not minding the blood, If you mentioned any concern about bleeding on her or in her bed she would shush you so fast. “shh..Shh..Shhh..I don’t care My love.” or something sappy to make you giggle.

-Abby knew your attention span on your period was VERY limited so to keep you happy Abby always brought her Nintendo switch to play Mario kart. (duh.) every time you and Abby played Mario Kart it was like sports to you two. Abby normally picks Dry bones or Bowser.. But guess who also did? You. It was like a damn race alone to just see who could pick it first. Of course you both could be the same character but you liked to see the different characters plastered across the screen. In desperate times like this though? Abby would always ‘accidentally’ miss-click so you could always win and get the character you wanted, Abby just loved to see you laugh at her.

-Yk how Abby said she would do anything for you? She meant literally any type of relief to ease your pain.. even if that meant-🧛

My friend gave me this idea and it made me think..so..

Reblogs are appreciated!

I have anonymous requests in my bio! Send me SFW. requests! Head-cannons on TLOU characters or smth idk LOL.

Okay Drink water girls. <3

[navstuffs]

hi!! i really love your writing and i would love if you could feed me with a request (only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) 👉🏼👈🏼 what about a leon x reader where reader is passing through a very tough depressive crisis and is really not fine mentally speaking — and leon just try to help and comfort them through this? 👉🏼👈🏼

anyway, thank you for your fics, they really helped me these days 😭💗

Anchor

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNPartner!Reader

Summary: It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. He shouldn't be there and you shouldn't have opened it. 

Warning tags: hurt/comfort, angst, leon almost died, reader is suffering with anxiety due to past events, can be read as platonic or romantic (you choose)

Writer's Notes: hello! first of all, im sorry i took so long to write this request for you. i changed some stuff and i hope you don't mind (reader is still depressed). thank you so much your kind words and i hope this fic serves as comfort for you!! <333 stay safe anon!

for more painful leon's fics, check my masterlist. i have some happy ones too :)

It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. It is the third time that week only, the fifth of the month. 

It starts when you don’t appear at work after two weeks since his return, and no one knows where you are. HR informs you are sick, which means you are still alive somewhere in the world, just sick. Okay, but sick with what? Sick how? Are you in the hospital? Do you need any help? Leon knows you don’t have family around, like him, and you are pretty much alone - like him. 

So, as any regular worried friend would, he calls and texts. He wants to hear your voice and guarantee that you don’t need help and have everything you need. That you truly are okay. No answer. HR has guaranteed him you are not dead, but what if you—no, he shouldn’t think about that.

The next step is going to your house. He knows where your address is and wouldn’t be a complete weird appearing there in the afternoon. No answer. Leon won’t be a creep as far as looking at your windows, at least not yet. He won’t go as far as busting your door and checking how you are feeling because he needs to confirm you are okay. You might just not be home.

On the second visit, Leon got awfully close to kicking your door. Before he could do that or even knock, he saw a shadow pass over the window. Though Leon told himself he wouldn’t, he looked inside just in time to see you disappear to the second floor. So, at least you are really alive, Leon’s body filling with relief. It could have been a bad case of flu, and you don’t want to contaminate anyone.

One more week passes, and he visits your house two more times. Those times you didn’t even bother to hide yourself, lazily lying down on the sofa in a way Leon couldn’t see your face (oh yeah, now he is definitely peeking out your windows). So you are genuinely ignoring him or truly sick with some contagious disease. Maybe Covid?

The fifth time he knocks on your door, it is 1 am and Leon is deeply not only worried but bitter. He was sitting in his apartment alone, wondering what you had and why you didn’t open the door for him. You two are colleagues, and Leon would dare to go as far as to call you his friend if anyone asked. How many times have you brought him soup while he was sick? Brought him meds, kept him company? Checked on him until he was finally all better?

It would be only fair if he did the same.

Leon grabs his keys without even thinking: You will open the door for him tonight. And if you don’t, well, he will kick it open. To hell with the civil approach.

-x-

All the courage slips away from his body when he notices the kitchen’s light on. Leon can’t see anything inside since you decided to make his life harder and close the curtains. So, instead of kicking that door until it’s down, Leon goes back to the gentle approach (like the idiot he is): he knocks.

The door opens not even ten seconds later, and Leon blinks, surprised. You are there. You, not a trick of his eyes: a fluffy and long blanket covering your body, only your face peeking with a familiar expression Leon recognizes immediately - he had seen in his own mirror before.

“You won. What the fuck do you want?” Those are the first words to him in weeks.

“May I come in?” 

You ponder for a moment, your eyes red, and Leon wonders when you last slept. You walk away, leaving the door open, and Leon follows inside, locking the door behind him. 

Your house isn’t in the best state. He had been here before and thought you weren’t the most organized person (“I can find myself in my own mess, Leon.”). The mess had grown too much from normal. There were tons of take-out boxes on the kitchen counter, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. At least you had been eating—not the best food ever, but feeding. He could work with that.

And the bottles—oh, those Leon would identify anywhere. You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you mentioned plenty of times you didn’t know how he liked whiskey. Now, there were countless empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and vodka, so much so that the place looked like a bunch of frat boys had a party just the night before and didn’t bother to clean.

Leon follows you to the living room as you fall onto the couch. An old Simpsons episode plays on the TV screen. There are still some bags and bottles on the floor, but fewer. Your eyes focus on the TV, not really watching or paying attention to him.  Leon stands there, keeping a safe distance from you and gathering what to say. 

“I came to check on you.” Leon starts, his eyes glued on you. “You haven’t called or texted me back. The HR said-”

“I am sick. I wanted to be left alone.”

“I know, but-”

“I could complain about this to HR, you know? It could be considered an invasion of privacy, and you could lose your job. “

“I was worried about you.”

“You saw me in the window that day, didn’t you? I’m alive and breathing. Now get out.”

You hide your face in the sofa, conversation clearly done on your side. It feels like an impossible battle to win. Leon then tries again, “Do you need anything?” 

“No. Get out.”

He sighs, turning on his heels. Leon wants to say you can call if you need him, any time, but Leon knows you wouldn't. This is an impossible battle to win, Leon realizes as he starts to leave. But then he freezes, a memory piercing his thoughts. Leon comes back to the living room, your face still hidden.

“No.”

“What?” 

“I am not leaving. Not before I know what is wrong.”

“I am sick.”

“Yes. So I have heard.” 

You don’t turn to look at him, and that’s fine. If you want to be stubborn, so could he. Leon can wait. The episode on the TV finally ends, and as the familiar opening plays in the background, you slowly turn in his direction, one eye appearing first, then the other, as if expecting Leon would be gone by now. Unlucky for you, Leon S. Kennedy didn’t give up that easily, especially for his friends.

“I don’t know what you are feeling, but I know that face.” His voice manages to sound neutral.

Of course, he does. Of course, your partner, the legendary D.S.O veteran, would know. You, just a newbie, would have no idea what he went through, but Leon didn’t seem the kind of person to crumble for anything. Leon would probably be fine if you were the one to get shot, not him. He wouldn’t have panicked, he wouldn’t have started crying, screaming for someone to help them, losing themselves in a sea of despair and pain.

“Hey…”

Blood. So much blood in your hands. You are useless, you can’t help him as Leon’s face loses color-

“Hey.”

He deserved someone better—someone much better as a partner—not you, a weak agent who thought you were strong enough to stand by his side. Oh, how wrong you were.

Leon calls your name, more urgent this time, and your line of sight is filled with the face of the man you considered your friend right at your path—concerned blue eyes, his hair tickling against your face. His forehead is in concentration, the faint ghost of a beard, as he speaks soothingly. “Hey, look at me. You are safe. Deep breaths, come on.” 

The visions mix as you blink: Leon losing blood in your arms, unconscious, back to being safe, his worried eyes staring at you.

Your rapid breathing noise fills the room, your heart wanting to burst as the pain spreads over your body, the pain worse than being stabbed or punched. You keep your eyes on Leon - he is fine, he is safe, he is well, he is worried sick about you- as he continues to nod and tell you to breathe.

It takes a while, Leon’s hands on your shoulder as you finally calm down, the tears rolling freely from your eyes.

“I am sorry.” You manage to whisper. “I am so sorry.”

“You are safe. We both are safe.” Leon declares, and you take that in. Right now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about-? “Hey, eyes open at me.” When had you even closed them? “Come on. There is no one else, just you and me. And we are safe.” 

You nod, not arguing back. Finally, you sit down, and Leon takes two steps back. “Water?” 

“I think there are some in the fridge,” you reply, cleaning your tears. Leon leaves and quickly comes back with two bottles, unbottling them for you. You shake your head, but Leon insists, and you drink in small sips, the cold liquid refreshing your dry throat. When was the last time you had any water? Or took a shower? Or slept?

Finally, you give him space on the couch to sit. Leon doesn’t, and you point your head to your side, and he sits, keeping a safe distance from you. You two say nothing for a while, simply looking at the TV to watch Bart Simpsons on his shenanigans. 

“I am sorry.”

“Would you stop that?” Leon sighs back, frustrated. 

“No. I am sorry.”

“Fine. I forgive you. Are we good now?”

“No.” 

“I knew it wouldn’t be,” Leon replies with a sad smile.

“You could have died, and I didn’t-” Leon says your name, but you continue “-let me finish. I didn’t help. I didn’t move. I did nothing.” 

Leon didn’t want to talk about this, knowing it was inevitable. The day he took a bullet for you: not one, but two. Leon noticed before you, his reflexes quicker than yours. It was his responsibility anyway.

You only watched, shocked, as the bullet pierced his leg, then his chest. You didn’t move or flinch; you just froze, your hands closing and opening nervously as Leon fell right in front of you. You had been fortunate that the backup team had arrived on the other second, finding in the middle of the swarm of bullets a screaming you protecting Leon with his own body, all training thrown out of the window. You two should have been dead. Life had given you and him another chance, since no other vital organ or vein of Leon had been damaged.

You don’t remember much after except asking for your resignation that same day and getting a “No” as an answer. So you decided to get on sick leave until some higher-up got tired and fired you.

“I did nothing.” Leon tries to interrupt you again, but you continue, “You could have died, and I did nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.” 

“What? Of course, it would!” 

“No, it would not.” 

“Can you fucking stop trying to make me feel better?” Your tone is so angry, so vile, that Leon almost flinches. 

Death is always in the back of his mind. Every time he is out there, he could die. He is expandable; they all are, but he couldn’t just let you die. You a much smarter version of what he once was during Raccoon City. The same bravery, but not foolish as his. Much sharper. Leon knew why he got paired up with you in the first place, the irony not completely lost in him. 

It would have been fine if Leon died that day he protected you, but not okay if you did. Not on his watch. Not now, not ever.

“I can’t help it,” Leon replies, a sad smile on his lips. “I can’t help it, especially when a friend needs my help.” 

A friend? 

Do not grow attachments. Wasn’t that your first lesson? It had been hard to be paired up with a man who hated it at first, then to learn how to laugh at his silly jokes or admire how far Leon would go for anyone. For anyone, except himself, stupid brave man.

You open your mouth and close it, simply lying against the sofa with your eyes closed. 

“So, let me help you?” His voice is warm and inviting. 

It would be best if you said no. You should kick this man out of your living room, out of your life, and never go back to that stupid job fighting an endless battle that would end with you dead or someone you cherished dead. You don’t know how Leon does it, but as you open your eyes, his blue eyes look straight at you awaits in hope. Waiting to comfort you, support you to the best of his abilities, and be your friend.

The pain is still there, vivid in your soul and mind, but there is hope. Right there, in that tiny spot you gave Leon S. Kennedy. That’s why you shouldn’t have opened that damn door, you realize, but it is too late. You limit on nodding.

[stealingyourbones]

Hey Bones, I saw your thing about a Bat family member becoming a ghost and it reminded me of a very heart breaking au a friend and I came up with a while back that I don't remember if I submitted or not. Either way, be prepared to have your heart broken.

Tim is dead. He's been dead for a while actually. But No one seems to have noticed. He looks and feels just as solid as he did before he died, even if he's got a lower body temperature and doesn't seem to get hurt on patrol beyond bumps and bruises. Never anything that would land him in med Bay, never anything that would make his family check on him.

No one has noticed the way he doesn't eat anymore, or the fact he doesn't sleep. He's extended his patrol hours and cut back on time at Wayne Enterprises. He's pretty sure not even Alfred noticed. He knows the Kryptonians aren't worried about him not having a heart beat and they have no reason to tell anyone. They know he has a special device that can hide him from their senses and tests it on Kon a lot to make him focus on spacial awareness beyond his hearing. He used it a lot before he died. They just think he hasn't turned it off in a while.

Tim remembers how he died. Not fully, but there are pieces. He remembers he was fighting someone on a bridge and he didn't call for back up because he thought he could handle it. He doesn't remember who he thought he could handle. He remembers something stinging his arm. A bug? No a bug couldn't bite through Kevlar, it was a needle. Then everything started going dark and he was stumbling back. His back hit something hard and he tiped over it. He thought he could land on the other side. He remembers wondering why his suit felt so damp and heavy as the world went black around him.

Tim's body is still at the bottom of the bay where it will likely stay forever with so, so many other bodies. It makes Tim wonder, why him? Why not everyone else who ended up down there? Why not everyone who has died in Gothem? Did he come back like Jason did, is it something to do with being a vigilante? Tim checks his own pulse again while he's alone. Yep. Still dead. He continues on his patrol and tries to shove those thoughts away.

So what if Tim's dead? He's still here and he still has work to do. His family is full of detectives. If they can't figure out that something as important as death has happened to one of their own? Well then Tim thinks they need to pay more attention. He ignores the pain that curls in the back of his mind at that thought.

It's been 6 months. Why hasn't anyone noticed? Tim can't help but wonder if they ever will.

Howdy its me @bonebrokebuddy answering. I'm Twone's (twin bones) twin who is helping answer asks because this fucker has like, over 100 of them in her ask box and I help her with making prompt ideas frequently so she trusts me to not horribly fuck up her account.

This is my first answer for her I've written because I had my screen on low brightness and on darkmode, so your profile jump scared the shit out of me when I scrolled past it. Therefore im answering this one first.

Anywho, from my chronic inability to write angst here goes: Tim died, came back and none of the Bats seemed to care. So what? It's not like his best friends hadn't done the same thing. And he was tired and sick of the Bats thinking his entire life revolved around them.

So he packed up his bags and headed to Kansas.

The Bats might not be worried but neither was Kon or Bart. They're actually thrilled after getting over their initial grief that Tim now has also personally experienced death and came back. The funeral was a rather small, breif, and quiet afar. Kon made sure to help locate Tim's corpse and Bart helped with the eulogy (surprisingly heartfelt and moved them all to tears.)

Sure, they're sad that Tim died but he's right in front of them, it's a little more difficult to morn when you've been laughing at said dead guy who got stuck halfway through phasing out of the wall. And now Tim can keep track with them!

Kon is a little pissed that Tim can now go intangible and escape his TTK so he can't take away Tim's coffee anymore. But it's kinda worth it. The first time he took Rob on his favorite flight path, he's never wanted anything else than to hear Tim's breathless laugh and see his frighteningly perfect smile again. They now often go on flights together, high above the clouds with no-one else but them for thousands of miles around. (it almost felt like a date)

Bart knew this would happen one day. He was from the future, of course he knew that Tim Drake, formerly Red Robin, died at age 19 and changed his alias to The Grey Ghost. It doesn't mean that Bart doesn't morn the passing of his friend. Tim means a lot to him and the brief guilt that he did not stop Tim's death also quickly passes. He can finally show Tim that hiding space in the walls that no one else can get to without phasing through the wall! One other thing. Bart is unsure if Kon has noticed yet, which he knows Kon isn't the most observant of the old young justice crew but he has to have noticed it by now. Ever since Tim left Gotham he's developed an insane appetite despite claiming that he didn't need to eat while in Gotham and also being dead so why does he need to eat? (Unknown to Bart, Kansas doesn't have as much ambient ectoplasm as Gotham and Tim is starting to experience the withdraw symptoms. If the trio don't realize how to fix Tim's worsening symptoms soon, Tim might actually die for good this time.)

[homkamiro]

I LOVE THE TF2 MLP AU SM. it gives me sm nostalgia to when i was a kid and i and everyone in the fandom made pony aus of franchises we liked- im so happy cringe is dead and tradition is alive 🥹

ALSO THE INFECTION AU POST. GOOD SHIT;!;!!!!!!!!!! gore and body horror are inseparable from (hopefully only the mature part of) the mlp fandom and i felt so giddy jumping for joy kicking my feet up seeing that it had a resurgence!! Your post of this au with your tf2 ponies was my introduction to it!!! Nature is healinggggg

That post is BOMB. WE GOT: 1) HEAVYMEDIC ANGST. 2) PYRO & ENGIE ANGST. 3) BOOTS & BOMBS ANGST. 4) DADSPY ANGST. 5) SNIPER ANGST. ITS GIVING💅🏽💅🏽💅🏽 and the way the disease spreads differently for all of them is so creative!!!!!! Engie wants to sever the infected body part but cant cus its on his back and he needs medics help for that (and med is way too far gone to do any operation), and scout doesn't want his wings severed even tho that would save him cus he still wants to fly!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

also soldier misinterpreting the request is so good. And pyro wanting to help but not being allowed to cus they'd try to burn engie. Demo drinking himself to death cus he cant handle seeing his friend in the state that he's in. Sniper disappearing cus he wants to be with his parents during this horrible time even tho they have a strained relationship. Spy wanting his son to live through this so much that he's planning to sever his wings himself. And heavyyyyyy. Heavy breaking his heart everyday still taking care of medic knowing he's going to have to kill the love of his life soon. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyways sorry for fuckin. Screaming in your asks and basically just repeating what you wrote sgjdjd. I just really love this au (and especially that comic with scout, medic and engie!!!) and the infection au post made me so nostalgic to the early days of the mlp fandom that the adhd went mental and i had to shout about it lol- feel free to not respond to this! Youre awesome! Keep doing you!!!!!!

(also youre really good at drawing gore????? Hello teach me pls)

WHAT A BIG FEEDBACK OHMYGODヽ⁠(⁠(⁠◎⁠д⁠◎⁠)⁠)⁠ゝ

Anyway I'm really super puper glad you liked my au!! I was a little hesitant to post it, since AU in AU sounds weird but I'm glad I thought otherwise - cringe culture should be dead!! Mix your hyperfixations it's good for your health!!!

AND AHHHHGGGGGH You noticed so many details thankyouuu🥺💗💗💗The best thing about this AU is that every ship and brotp can work so well in this story. Engie first helping Medic but then ending up being also infected??? Spy checking up on Engie and making him eat since he's too stressed to take a break??? Demo, Heavy and Pyro comforting each other after loosing their friends??? Spy and Scout both raging on Sniper for leaving like a coward??? Or maybe Heavy, as an earth pony, comforts Scout after he just got his wings amputated??? So many possibilities!!

Don't worry, I love when people are noticing all the details and just get,, really invested into my stuff, it really brings me joy and you made my day so much better!!🥺🥺I feel honestly a little insecure, since my pony designs and thoughts may not be the best, but I'm glad that so many people still like my mlp×tf2 stuff!! It's really endearing to know that finally something I like making is also likable to you!

About gore -- I have no idea😭I love gore but it's a pain to draw properly and scary, you'd need practice and references (I mostly use art references since yknow,,,real photos can make me sick)

[hunbun03]

Could I request fluff of eyeless jack and a s/o with migraines??

Hi! Omg I also suffer from migraines so this hit home also just been in the mood for writing fluff sooo please enjoy <3 i am so sorry that this is so rushed n lazy omg :(

words: 484 words so v quick read! im so sorry

ᴇʏᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱ/ᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍɪɢʀᴀɪɴᴇꜱ <3

warnings: afab reader, more feminine pet names. sickly cute fluff, barely edited rip.

ℚ𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕃𝕚𝕝 𝔹𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥:

Eyeless Jack was a med student before the whole ritual thing took place so out of ALL of the creeps, you're in good hands.

He is making sure the room is nice and dark

He's in there cuddling you- running his hands through your hair

or rubbing your back.

If not in the room with you, he's standing "guard"

Watching the door and telling the other creeps to leave you alone for the day.

HE WILL ESCALATE THINGS IF THEY TRY TO FUCK WITH YOU

Quietly of course.

He will fetch you water and snacks whenever you want.

He just wants you to feel better that's all.

♡♡♡

𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘:

Your face was firmly planted in the mountains of pillows in the bed both you and EJ shared. The only light peeking into the room was the blanket covered window but that was enough for a pulse to throb throughout your head.

A crack of the hallway light peeked into the room followed by a soft "Baby...?" EJ whispered, his mask muffling most of his words but thankfully you felt like you were cursed with super-hearing. "How are you feeling now?"

You shook your head that was still deep into the pillows along with a "Mm mm.." To really get the point across.

EJ's face softened behind his mask, brows still furrowed. He absolutely hated seeing you like this. He fully stepped into the room, closing the door behind him softly as to not cause you extra harm. "Maybe a cuddle or two will fix you right up Babygirl." He smiled, his hands reaching up and ridding his face of his mask.

"Mm hm." You hummed in response, even that sent many more pulses of pain through your head. It felt as if someone was grabbing your head and shaking it hard.

He only chuckled softly, it rumbling deep in his chest that it sounded almost like a purr. Rain or shine, Sick or well, he knew you were a sucker for being held. He got comfortable before climbing into bed with you. He made a small pile of clothes on the floor as he just stripped down to his boxers. He ever so gently got into bed with you, sliding comfortably next to you. You lifted your head and rested it on his grey chest.

His hands found their way to your hair, running the strands through his fingers gently. "There there baby. I'm here until you feel all better."

The sounds of air filling his lungs gave you something to focus on rather than the pain, His breathing now matched yours. He leaned his head back, taking in a deep breath. His chest slightly rumbling now.

"EJ?" Your voice was muffled by his skin but with not much noise, he heard it loud and clear.

"Yes babygirl?" He looked down, clearing your face of your hair.

"You're purring."

[disabledunitypunk]

So, I know this blog has been a lot less active as of late, at least from my part (mod Stars).

I'm gonna be honest; I've been incredibly sick. A combination of some kind of issue with gluten/wheat (may be celiac, or nonceliac gluten intolerance, or wheat allergy) with IBD, MCAS, lactose intolerance and sensory issues, had caught me in such a cycle of degranulation, anaphylaxis, intestinal issues, brain fog, chronic fatigue, and POTS and chronic pain flareups, that I was nonfunctional.

On top of that, anxiety over my partners SSI application (recently medically approved by the administrative law judge, that's a win! still waiting on nonmedical approval but it should hopefully just be a rubber stamp process at this point - knock on wood) has really screwed with my levels of executive dysfunction.

And trauma around medical neglect and abuse, plus being so sick, plus executive dysfunction, had led me to temporarily avoid seeking treatment at all. When I say that the very idea of trying to trick yet another doctor's ego into believing they came up with the idea to test me for the conditions I'm already reasonably certain I have, all while making sure I don't seem too smart, too unintelligent, too articulate, too reliant on google, too self-aware, use too many medical terms, and so on... I've not had the ability to advocate for myself anymore.

Luckily, a friend of mine that's all hellfire agreed to help advocate for me at some of my appointments going forward, so I'm going to be finding a new primary care doc and going forward (possibly seeing my old one a few more times if necessary, just to get re-referrals and maybe get a referral to a non-Medicaid allergist that actually knows what MCAS is) with pursuing diagnoses and treatment again.

Until then, however, I'm pretty much limited to about three foods - plain white or wild rice, "zoup" (a zucchini broth with chunks of carrots, daikon, celery, and wild rice), and raisins. I can drink water and cranberry juice. Between my sensory issues and that tiny list, I've been consistently significantly hungry for a week. I'm struggling to sleep and can't get more than four hours of restless sleep in a night the past few nights. I'm menstruating for the first time in five years for G-d knows why. I feel better and less reactive, especially after an ER visit for some IM decadron, but I am constantly exhausted.

Why do I bring all this up?

This is my daily life. I have near zero quality of life because of the ableism of doctors and failures of the medical system. I'm barely keeping myself alive every day, really only with the help of a lot of caretaking from my partner. I haven't been able to get to my doctor to get approved for that friend willing to advocate for me to be paid for basic caretaking duties by Medicaid. I went out on Saturday for the first time in over a month, and I'll be recovering from that for the next week and a half.

There is not a single minute of my life that isn't profoundly affected by my disabilities. Stress causes a cascading reaction through my MCAS, POTS, ME/CFS. Understimulation causes intense stress and even pain. Listening to music while doing nothing, watching videos, and similar "low energy" activities drain so much energy that they trigger my chronic fatigue, and sometimes cause a lesser reverse cascading reaction.

I can't take an ADHD med to help with the symptoms more disabling than the ones threatening literal anaphylaxis and organ failure because I can't get them compounded without an official MCAS diagnosis, and I'd also need a beta blocker compounded as well (which are are often mast cell triggers) for my POTS because the only ADHD meds that work on me are amphetamines.

I can't take vitamin D or B12 despite being incredibly critically low for the same reasons. I've barely found some OTC benadryl and aleve that I halfway tolerate. I might have a UTI and if I do I'm gonna have to convince doctors 20 years behind the medical literature that IM antibiotics are considered safe and effective and are a safer alternative to oral meds for me, if still risking a minor reaction.

On good days, I can make it between the bed and couch a couple times a day, and between the couch and the toilet. On bad days, I have a chamber pot setup in the bedroom because I can't afford diapers. I'm sure my vitamin D deficiency is not helped by never leaving an apartment that barely gets some sunlight two hours a day because it's in the shadow of the other side of the building.

I used to, on bad days, spend most of the day doing mindless tasks or on slightly less bad days, puzzle games, on my phone. Now, I'm lucky if I can do even that much most days. I AM too sick to play video games. 🥲 I can nap, I can sit with my eyes open, I can listen to music until it's too exhausting anymore.

I'm tired, and every day surviving is just a monumental effort. Again, the ableism of doctors and... actually, they're not failures if they're intentional; the abusive medical system, have not left a single minute of my life untouched.

Multiple times, when talking about online discourse, I've been accused of "wanting to be more disabled than I am", "being physically abled", being "crazy", "delusional", "on something", etc, etc, etc. All for daring to say that ideas like body-mind duality, exclusionism within disabled communities, and similar, are deeply harmful and affect far more than insular online discourse.

Doctors love to shove off chronically ill people into "psych cases". Have anxiety, autism, PTSD, schizophrenia, DID, depression, etc, etc on your chart? Yeah, you're never getting that physical diagnosis. This is what perpetuating and encouraging ideas like "all disabilities are physical OR mental", "people with abc type of disability have privilege over people with xyz type of disability", and so on, DOES.

Sanism is used to perpetuate ableism. Ableism is used to perpetuate sanism. Quite frankly, I'm not sure that neurotypical physically disabled people, non-mad neurodivergent physically disabled people, and physically abled neurodivergent/mad (all as self-identified categories) get just how deeply compounded ableism is when you exist at the intersection of physically disabled and neurodivergent (especially if mentally ill or mad). Or perhaps, the disconnect exists along a line of "profoundly disabled" vs "can access abled hegemony to a significant extent". Perhaps it's both. There is likely elements of how visible a disability is, how much its able to be masked, the type/level/spread of support needs, and so on. There's definitely elements of other marginalization; race, ethnicity, fatness, queerness, and so on.

And then there's the subcategories. Cognitively disabled. Traumatized. Chronically ill. Visually impaired/blind. Deaf/hard of hearing. Intellectual disability. Mobility disabilities. Fluctuating vs static disabilities, support needs, masking, and so on.

Sometimes I wonder, would the people who think I'm just an abled faker who doesn't belong for not being able to seperate my neurodivergence from my physical disabilities, my neurological organs from my body, my inabilities from my inabilities, would they find I'm the same as them when they spend a day in my life? Would they find it worse? Would they find it unbearable in a completely different way from their own struggles? Would they maybe even find that while it's not quite as hard as their own struggles in some cases, that it's still wildly hard and the two are far closer to each other on the scale than they think? Would they understand that we are both in the midst of an active, eugenicist genocide, and that we're 50-49 bullet holes staring down the barrel of a loaded gun that is held by our oppressors?

Even now, I'm thinking about how this post might be inaccessible. Is it readable for screen readers? Will the length be too much for way too many people? Is it understandable for people with intelligence and cognitive disabilities? How do I fix those things if it's not. What am I missing? What am I missing? What am I missing?

I'm exhausted, I'm scared, and I'm barely holding on. I'm safe, mental health wise, to be clear, I'm just convinced that the only reason that I'm not in significant danger from my physical chronic illnesses right now is because I've always had a body that was stubborn as all hell and twice as resilient. I'm not dying, not because the illnesses aren't trying, but because my body will endure far beyond normal limits.

I've experienced slow acting anaphylactic reactions without anaphylactic shock about once a month for 1-2 years now, usually only going in after several days and nights of severe symptoms. Like I've mentioned, several of my vitamin levels are so low as to make organ failure a constant threat. None of my illnesses are "terminal" per se, but that doesn't mean they can't be deadly. And more to the point, it doesn't mean they can't destroy me, that they haven't utterly destroyed my quality of life, without killing me.

I mean, I started this blog as an attempt at fostering solidarity. We CANNOT be quibbling over who really "belongs" in various disability spaces, who gets to reclaim what words or whatever, when so many of us are dealing with this shit.

For the area with the lowest cost of living in the country, SSI should be 5 times what it is now. For the highest, up to 20 times. People on disability benefits lose some or all of their payments, insurance, and so on, if they get married, even to another person on benefits. I've never met a disabled person without more doctor horror stories than diagnoses, and we all know diagnoses like to come in clusters. We are being abused, neglected, and killed.

I cannot stress how much, not that this intracommunity discourse "doesn't matter", but that it does at a deeply harmful level. It's just perpetuation of the abuse we face at a lateral level. We're mimicking the government and doctors and general abled society and getting into petty but deeply dangerous inane arguments that are just us carrying out the only way we've been taught to treat disabled people.

Being a disabled activist and advocate means questioning everything you know about ableism. It means prioritizing first and foremost disabled people. And honestly, speaking as someone whose platform here is dedicated to that, that's really fucking hard. It means believing people about their experiences with disability and oppression in a world that teaches us that the vast majority of disabled people are lying privileged fakers.

It means not believing that people know more about what people with a disability they DON'T have face because of their own disabilities. A little confusing, but essentially someone with disability A without disability B who faces oppression X, can't say that someone with disability B DOESN'T face oppression X, just because they face it. It means not calling the very real harm someone has experienced "misdirected", or making their suffering about you or your subcommunity, just because you've experienced the same or similar harm.

It means unlearning reactivity as a group of extremely traumatized people. It means learning to meet people where they're at, and assume "can't" rather than "won't". It means accepting that sometimes not only will someone's disabilities cause conflicting access needs with your own, but that sometimes people's disabilities can actively cause them to do harm, and that they still deserve rights, community, and support if they do. It also means recognizing that the harm that a disability may cause someone to do is going to look VASTLY different than abled expectations of "harmful" disabilities. It means, even and especially when this happens, recentering the perspective not around how the disability affects other people, but around how it affects the person with the disability.

It's all of this and so much more. It's a lot of effort from people with not a lot to give. It's fighting an upstairs battle with no ramp, so to speak.

And I guess I just... I'm at a loss on how to keep that up. Is just focusing on getting myself well enough to participate again, putting my own mask on first, enough? When there is not a single moment of my life untouched by the extremely deep and extremely systemic harm of ableism, is it enough to try and access the care continually gatekept from me at an individual level? Can I even do so, against such intensive pressure?

How do I live this life, and also go on untangles the narratives of "disabling neurodivergence isn't really a real disability and neurodivergent people face almost no real ableism" and "physical conditions are obvious and so get all the care and face no real ableism". How do I fight the concurrent violences of hypervisibility and erasure within the community that only serve to strengthen abled people bludgeoning us with them?

How do I focus on things like organizing, community building, activism, advocacy, dismantling the system, dismantling our reliance on it, and so much more, when I can't even get out of bed?

All I can do is write about it, right now. Sometimes I feel like that's all I've ever been able to do. Everyone I've ever known has acted like some day my "pen" will be a tool of liberation, but I'm at a loss for how. I'm just some horribly sick mad cripple on a dying microblogging platform on the internet. I don't know - not if I'm enough, but if anything ever can be.

And I don't mean to sound hopeless. I know that change can happen. I know that it is, in tiny and sometimes larger ways, every day.

This is kind of a self-centered post, in the most neutral way. This is just my perspective. This is about me, and how I'm so very disabled, and how people assume I'm not (and how wild that is, considering), and how ableism affects me so deeply, and how I don't know how to face it or fight it...

I can only hope that maybe my word resonating with people means something. That maybe, as much as we never want each other to experience what we have to, that it's also a comfort to know we don't experience it alone. That maybe this will serve as a reminder that it's okay to be scared, to feel lost, even hopeless, to struggle; to not know how to fight or where to turn. That maybe this will reach someone who CAN do something, and maybe it'll reach the people who need to NOT do anything other than take care of themselves, and that maybe it will help both of them.

Maybe that's too grandiose, I don't know. I hardly know what my point is here, other than: this is me, crippled and crazy as all hell. This is the violence I face. This is why I started this blog, because we need to stop hearing "you're a lying abled privileged faker trying to take advantage of and take resources from real disabled people who really need it" from abled people, and saying it word for word to each other. Because what abled people mean by "real disabled people" is just a theoretical disabled person. A perfect victim. They don't mean any real disabled person, especially not those who can advocate for themselves. They mean they think every single one of us doesn't need or deserve accommodations, treatment, respect, humanity, or even life.

That's the point, really. We're all we've got. We've gotta fight for each other, not fight each other. And G-d, I know how hypocritical that sounds coming from my ragey, rabid ass. I just... that's all I know to focus on right now. Not necessarily all coming together and holding hands and singing a song about unity, but just... not being ableist to each other. Tolerating each other even if we can't stand each other. Presenting a united, unbroken front to ableist society, and pushing until they don't have any power over us anymore. Doing the work of activism, which is often neither easy nor feel-good.

That's what I'm trying to do here, at least. I try to get a little better at it every day. I try to listen a little more. I try to keep up hope when my body and mind are crashing down around me.

I don't have a mic-drop conclusion to add to this, so just: I'm opening the floor. Anyone who has anything to add, feel free to do so. What you have to say is valuable.

[lilacs-world]

I feel like I’m chronically not okay but idk if I’m valid enough to label myself as chronically ill. I am able to work 40h a week but with the cost of laying in bed the rest of the day when I’m back home. In the weekends I sleep mostly. My room is a disaster because I never have the energy to tackle the chaos. I wished I was able to walk to work and back but standing for more than 15 min is already exhausting me and I get dizzy and lightheaded. I am constantly in pain, my normal pain level is on good days at a 2 on bad days it’s at a 4 or 5 but maybe I’m too modest about my pain due to fear of admitting I’m not okay. I am always tired even if I sleep usually enough. At times I feel more refreshed with only 4 hours of sleep hell knows why. I am waking up daily at 5:45am to get myself ready for 8am work. I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be a functioning adult. I am scared of the moment I will unmask bcs im masking daily due to Audhd. Plus daily I’m confused because we are often switching and my quality at work at times fluctuating and my TLs wondering wtf bcs we know u know all the processes so wtf. Daily I feel like I know only a specific part of the processes and I have days where I ask so many questions that one of the TLs told me they are growing gray hairs bcs of me asking so much. The doctors in my country are shit when I mentioned suspecting we are a system they said nah it’s just ur anxiety. When I questioned if I have adhd my former psych said nah only kids can have it. My former therapist said yeah after unofficially diagnosing me with it. Autism I suspect that too and I got my confirmation more or less from my bf who’s on the spectrum as well. He got his confirmation he has adhd as well by me noticing lots of adhd things in him and he has now meds whilst me is in this godforsaken country that isn’t taking me seriously. I got my confirmation I have adhd when I took speed and realised for the first time "so this is how neurotypicals experience their life?" I for once had a train of thoughts in order and not a carambolage of luggage’s getting stuck in the baggage claim belt. I sobbed so hard. On good days I am able to remember and memorise lots of shit. But on bad days I barely anything. My body is out of control. I have pcos and it’s ravaging my body. I grow hair on my chin and arms and it’s making me uncomfortable and I developed anxiety about having hair in my face to the point over pluck and over shave it. My period is out of control. I either bleed for 2 months consecutive or I don’t have my period for 6 months. I am anemic due to it. I am such a pale human that I’m constantly being asked if I am okay. Oh yeah not to forget having an autoimmune disease since I am 2 years old. Having to deal with psoriasis break outs each winter where I end up being covered on my legs, arms , ass with skin patches of psoriasis. At times it’s even in my eyebrows and on my scalp. Each winter is a torture for me. I am battling with depression as well. Luckily this last year it wasn’t so overbearing and I felt more human than I used to in the past. Nonetheless my anxiety is ravaging and leaving me crippled daily. I sound ridiculous talking about myself rn bcs in my brain I feel like you aren’t this sick or unwell you are faking this you are a horrible human for saying all this things but I know it’s probably my internal ableism and the internal critical subconsciously developed voices of my surroundings telling me I’m not actually sick and I need to go to work even if sick etc. Sigh. Idk where I wanted to go with this whole post. I know you guys don’t see often a personal post from me or posts from me and more reblogs of stuff I enjoy seeing and stuff I wanna boost and stuff I find important or relatable or stuff that I think might make someone feel better and less anxious or feel seen. I hope this is fine. I hope being more real is helpful. Maybe I should do this rambling on my other blog @unfilteredrealities where I tried to talk about life in a real way , unfiltered. You can even send in your own submissions if u want to.

Anyway thanks for reading my ted talk.

TLDR: I don’t know if I’m actually chronically ill and if I’m valid enough to label myself as that and then I rambled about my life experiences with audhd, did, anxiety, depression, pcos, psoriasis and there are more but I’m exhausted.

[lvxybby]

Music Ties (kurt cobain x fem! reader) (pt8) WARNING: this is a very disturbing part! mentions of rape & kidnapping & vomit

Kurt POV: Y/N gave her attention to the TV, watching whatever was playing. i fucking hate it. Television has brainwashed our society into whatever the government wants them to believe...that and i want her attention on me...i really like her....ive always wanted alot of attention from people i like since i was a little brat...i get it mostly cause of my shit-headed father....not even father....my shit-headed dad...he doesn't deserve to be my father...i didnt realise i was so frustrated that i caused my stomach to hurt...i can deal with it...i did for 6 years...i want to be close to her...i dont wanna move away from her at least for a second. i was already so attached to her...but why?...was i afraid krist or dave would hurt her?....no....krist has shelli...but dave....i dont know about him....will he kidnap her...take her away from me?...rape her than eat her kids 9 months later? will he rape her and torture her like sylvia likens?....i didnt even realise i was so scared that i made my stomach hurt. but i can hopefully deal with it...i have for 6 years..."kurt...you ok?" Y/N spoke, snapping me out of my trance of worries. she placed her hand over mine "you look really pale" she said placing her other hand on my cheek. i leaned into her soft loving touch. it was like a mothers touch. "hm" i groaned "nope im fine" i said smiling a tad bit "dont lie to me kurt....is your stomach bothering you?" she asked. "im fine seriously" i said with a stronger tone. she sighed before standing up. "where are your meds" she asked me. i took a deep breath in and sighed. "my dresser..." i mumbled. she left the room to scavenge mine. "need a bucket?" krist asked, causing me to jump. "oh fuck i forgot you were there...i should be fine after i get my meds though" i said chuckling a bit. it felt like hell when i did though. "kurt..your out" Y/Ns voice spoke. she held my empty bottle in her hands. "ill get your bucket..." krist said leaving the room. dave walked in right after krist left. he held the coffee in his hands. the thought of it made me hurl. my mouth grew watery as i tried to keep the puke down as long as i can. krist came rushing back in with the bucket. he placed it down right in front of my face. i began to gag more before i finally puked up all the contents in my stomach. i burned so badly. i was leaned over a bucket puking and crying. very embarrassing. Y/N ran over and pulled my hair out of my face while everyone watched me puke up coffee and blood. it was normal to puke or cough up blood since of my irritation in my stomach. doctors say it IBS but its really a red spot that becomes inflamed whenever it wants. i stopped puking after a few minutes. i sat there on the couch completely drained. "i feel so bad for you" krist said. "shut the fuck up i dont want your pity" i said a bit angered. "well..wanna try to make it to your room?" dave asked "sure just give me a minute" i said panting a bit. i sat there for a few seconds holding my stomach. "ok...im ready" i said. dave and krist got on both sides of me and wrapped their arms under mine to lift me. i couldnt walk on my own since i could collapse at any moment from pain. we stumbled in my room and i threw myself on the bed, which i have been sick in many times. Y/N stood in the doorway watching with worry on her face. i wanted to tell her im ok...but i'd be lying to her.

[wishful-seeker]

Why doctors are scum part 365

Saw a urologist about my reoccurring kidney infections, he gave me meds to prevent them but i said "but im still sick. I throw up EVERYDAY." (Even though the infection is gone ive thrown up everyday for months long before the infection, i believe it is related) He almost fucking cut me off to say "well im not a stomach doctor :)." But had the AUDACITY to ask "so why are you in a wheelchair???" As if 1. Thats any of his business and 2. Why do you care im in wheelchair but not if im vomiting everyday??? And i say "i have crps." Hes like "WHaTs tHaT????." ("Whats that?" In a condescending tone) And i say "complex regional pain syndrome..." and hes like "oh okay :)." Overall he was very dismissive, talked over me, and i couldn't even tell him everything before he tried to get rid of me. So i hope he gets stabbed.

Many of my doctors believe i have an autoimmune disease, because my mother was diagnosed with one while pregnant with me, i have been sick in various ways my whole life, and i get a ton of reoccurring infections constantly. I couldn't even tell this dumbass this because HE WOULDN'T LET ME.