#cancer diets for dogs

[sidetongue]

he has an armpit hotspot everyone pray for him

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Do You Want Your Lovely Dogs to Live Healthier and Longer?

Pets Health According to scientific studies and reviews, fasting can also be healthier for canines. I have always deeply loved animals, but dogs hold a special place in my heart. My connection with them runs so deep that I once wrote a humorous story about an experience with a past-life channeler who claimed I was a dog in a previous life. Sharing that interesting finding with friends gave us…

[dogcancerfoundation]

Transitioning Your Dog to a Raw Food Diet

When transitioning your dog to a raw food diet, there are two main methods to consider: the rapid switch and the gradual transition. The rapid switch involves fasting your dog for 8–12 hours, then introducing the new raw food in the morning, whereas the gradual transition method involves gradually decreasing the amount of kibble and increasing the amount of raw over the next seven days. Patience…

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - January 15, 2024

🎊 - As we embark on another journey around the sun, I am thrilled to bring you the first newsletter of the year, packed with inspiring, informative, and sometimes downright amusing stories.

1. Marijuana meets criteria for reclassification as lower-risk drug

Marijuana has a lower potential for abuse than other drugs that are subjected to the same restrictions, with scientific support for its use as a medical treatment, researchers from the US Food and Drug Administration say in documents supporting its reclassification as a Schedule III substance.

2. South Korea passes law banning dog meat trade

The slaughter and sale of dogs for their meat is to become illegal in South Korea after MPs backed a new law. The legislation, set to come into force by 2027, aims to end the centuries-old practice of humans eating dog meat.

3. After 20 years in a tiny cage, these 'broken bears' are finally feeling the grass beneath their paws

These bears, termed "broken bears" due to physical and psychological trauma from years of abuse, are treated at the Tam Dao rescue center with individually tailored diets, physiotherapy, and medical care. The bear bile trade, which involves extracting bile for traditional Asian medicine, has been illegal in Vietnam since 2005, but a black market still exists.

4. France just got its first openly gay prime minister.

Gabriel Attal is France’s youngest-ever prime minister at age 34 and the first who is openly gay.

5. Australian ‘builders without borders’ repairing war-torn homes and schools in Ukraine

Manfred Hin, a 66-year-old builder from Townsville, Australia, spent most of 2023 volunteering in Ukraine to rebuild homes and schools damaged by Russian attacks. Having contributed to over 50 house and a dozen school renovations, he worked with Ukrainian charity Brave to Rebuild, mentoring young volunteers and sourcing three tonnes of donated tools.

Inspired by Hin's story, Tasmanian carpenter Hamish Stirling also joined the efforts, learning Ukrainian, traveling to Europe, and volunteering for three months to help rebuild homes.

6. The age-standardized death rate from cancer has declined by 15% since 1990

The age-standardized death rate from cancer declined by 15%

Cancer kills mostly older people – as the death rate by age shows, of those who are 70 years and older, 1% die from cancer every year. For people who are younger than 50, the cancer death rate is more than 40-times lower (more detail here).

7. Germany Reached 55% Renewable Energy in 2023

In 2023, 55 percent of Germany’s power came from renewables — an increase of 6.6 percent, according to energy regulator Bundesnetzagentur, reported Reuters. Europe’s biggest national economy has a goal of 80 percent green energy by 2030.

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That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[guqqie]

This might be a really awkward question to ask and if it is I am SO SORRY but I just got diagnosed with PCOS yesterday and I’m wondering how you deal with it if that makes sense??? Maybe cope is a better word idk either way any words are GREATLY appreciated tysm :D

NOT AN AWKWARD QUESTION AT ALL!! Let’s talk about this :)

Not sure if you mean deal with as in the diagnosis or the actual symptoms but I will touch on both!

When I got diagnosed the doctor seemed more upset about it than I was. Usually with PCOS (polycystic ovaries syndrome) it means you have a lower fertility rate. Meaning it’s not impossible to carry your own children but it’s very likely there will be complications or even miscarriages. With me, I guess I am lucky I never had that maternal instinct to want to carry my own children, so it wasn’t really a loss for me hearing that. I already decided from a young age that if I was gonna have kids that I would adopt. When I got my diagnosis also I had already accepted it as I suspect I had PCOS for about a year at that point, so it wasn’t a shocker to me and I had already l known.

As for symptoms, sadly I am still figuring out what works to ease mine. Altering my diet has helped, but everyone’s body is different and what helps me may send your symptoms the opposite way. It’s a trial and error thing. I can’t take the hormonal medication to help ease my PCOS, if I could I would. And if you have that as an option take it. I can’t due to there being a history of breast cancer in my family (my mother having lumps removed, my aunt battling it for years and only this year getting the all clear and my mother’s aunt passing from it shortly before I was born). Hormonal treatments can enhance that gene so I would much rather raw dog and find other ways to help my PCOS. One piece of advice I would give is to be patient and kind to yourself. There will be times where it is bad, or you are feeling bad emotionally. But remember this is a thing that also fucks with your hormones, so you will feel intense depression, anxiety etc (maybe you will, i do due to it!). Just give yourself a minute when it gets to that.

I hope this helped, I am not a medical professional so take anything with a grain of salt. I am glad to hear you have a diagnosis and hope that it gets better. You got this! ❤️

[overandundertarot]

How Can You Enhance Your Beauty?

What can you do to acentuate you features and which style/aesthetic suits you best? Lets take a look!

Please pick a card; (1-4, left to right)

Pile One(Ace of Spades)

Cards; The Empress, The world, King of Cups, Ace of Pentacles.

Pile one you have that supple, vivacious feminine beauty. Think of ancient portrayals of feminine goddesses. The way women were portrayed in renaissance paintings. Fuller figured, softer around the edges. You may be a romantic in terms of kibbe body types. You may have a wide set body and thicker bones. You could be tall, and may appear larger than you actually are. That is to say, because of the rouded nature of your appearence people may expect you to be heavier than you are or weaker/lacking muscle. A good example is Marylin monroe who was actually quite petite and was said to diet often despite her voluptuous appearence. You could have big eyes and a vacant look about you, a natural poise and grace. Despite this overt feminity, you could have androginous features. That is to say, you may have a larger nose than others, a wider jaw, slighty bigger feet, some 'traditionally masculine features' bleed into your appearence. But these just add to your beauty in a subtle way. You have a welcoming, receptive energy at first glance, think of a cancer rising. You may have had issues with people underestimating you or looking down on you because of this initial soft and welcoming appearence. People may have even sexualised you in the past, placing strange expectations on you and im also hearing that some of them outright started telling you about their sexual fantasies involving your body? Pile one, you look best when you look abundant. When you look like you are well taken care of and happy with your life, determined. When you are at a place in your life where you feel fulfilled and balanced, there is a natural glow that comes over you and enhances your beauty. Jewelry also enhances your beauty, specifically jewelry that looks expensive and tasteful. You may look really good in business casual style outfits. When you combine feminine and masculine elements in your look, it really complements your features . You look really good when you give your soft features an 'edge' this can be with makeup, fashion, whatever way you want. It's good to let some of your personality shine through, to communicate that you look soft but have a backbone. You may favour more structured, masculine looks but have had poor experiences with styling these because they may not have fit the way you wanted/imagined them on your body. Find a way to work around that, incorporate things like shoulder pads, strategically loose clothing, boots etc. There're some pictures of jennifer lawrence walking dogs that went semi-viral, her outift in those pictures would suit you well. That kind of quiet luxury fashion look.

Pile Two(Ace of Hearts)

Cards; Queen of cups reversed, 3 of swords reversed, King of swords reversed, The Fool.

Pile 2 you have a melancholy sort of beauty. There is something haunting and sad about you. When people look at you, there is a depth that they can feel. Your emotions, your sadness, you wear them on your face. This is not to say that you are sad all the time, its just that it's easy for people to attach those qualities to you. People wonder what you could be thinking about when they look at you, how your life may be going and who your friends are. Sad girl aesthetic, you may like to wear muted colours, grunge/emo fashion. You could have saturnian features; strong bone structure, deep set eyes/an intense gaze. Prominent eyes. I'm seeing that some of you have undereye circles and forehead lines/crinkles. Freckles as well. Whatever you do, it seems picturesque; perfectly imperfect. If someone were to capture you in the moment, the picture would come out with a raw, dark academia feel. You have a certain vibe that transcends what you wear/look like. You can enhance your beauty by trying something new. A lot of you who chose this pile have a comfort zone that is enforced solely through force of habit. Don't be afraid to try things that pique your interest even if it may seem strange to the people around you. Some of you want to completely change your aesthetic but are worried that you will regret it and have to buy a whole new wardrobe/makeup collection etc afterwards. It seems that a lot of looks, aesthetics appeal to you but you're not sure which to focus on. Some of you used to have a more sexy/mature vibe but feel the need to cover up/dress more conservativly recently. You'd do well to slowly incorporate the new style and grow comfortable in it day to day. For others, you're perfectly fine the way you are but are feeling stagnant. Social media trends hold quite the sway on you and you are worried about how people perceive you because you don't have the newest clothes/jewelry/shoes and dress similarly each day. You may also like to thrift your clothes and have some well loved favourites that you wear constantly. It seems there's really no issue, if you feel the want to change, try it to see if the satisfaction is as great as you would have thought. Otherwise, its not really worth the hassle. It seems that you also need to change your perspective/the content you consume. Content that aligns with your interests and natural inclinations will help you feel more secure in your habits and the way you choose to present yourself. Some of you could be thinking about undegoing surgery and making a more permanent and drastic change to your features. You are being advised to think long and hard as to why you wish to do that, and if you will really be satisfied with the results. Beauty standards change, you may find that your 'flaw' will be the next beauty trend or that you never really hated the a way a certain feature looked after all.

Pile Three(Ace of Diamonds)

Cards; The Magician. Nine of wands reversed, Ace of pentacles, Three of pentacles.

Pile 3, you have the ability to present yourself however you desire. You have a very versatile look and many makeup and fashion styles suit you. Some of you are aware of this and take advantage of the fact. But others aren't and like to stay within a single fashion/makeup style. Either way it looks good on you and you are often complimented for your looks. You are quite creative too, and customise your clothes/hair makeup to fit your personality. Something about your hair stands out. It seems that your personality may come as a surprise to people who perceive only your looks as a first impression. You could also be quite spiritual/witchy and use glamours and charms to exert a specific appeal depending on your goal. You can enhance your beauty by going for an understated look. I'm seeing that you haven't really tried simplistic makeup before, or you don't wear it often. Consulting an external influence could also help you enhance your looks. Such as colour analysis, analysing your features(like the kibbe body types), or even asking a friend what they think you should do. I'm seeing that you are generally happy with where you are in terms of looks/beauty and could just be looking to spice things up/suggestions because you are an open minded and optimistic sort of person. A message for you is also to utilise beauty sevices like spas, make up studios, stylists etc. You are good at styling yourself but other factors in your life may be occupying your time/energy and taking care of yourself may start to feel like a burden. Take the opportunity to treat yourself and relax, you deserve it!

Pile Four(Ace of Flowers)

Cards; 7 of swords, Knight of cups,4 of swords reversed, 3 of swords.

Pile 4 you have a duaity about you. I'm seeing that you dress according to how you feel. You have moments where you don't want to talk to anyone and would rather stay at home. During those moments you wear athleisure, comfortable clothes and put little effort into your appearence. But when you feel more confident and extroverted you put on bold and colourful clothes to match your bright and energetic personality at the time. You could be tall/look tall, and have a preference for baggy silhouttes. Something about your lips is prominent. You could have long limbs and be slender, regardless of your weight/fitness. You are someone who's talkative, or very expressive. You have a lot of opinions, even though you may keep them to yourself. You're quite involved in your own inner world and even when you are not talking to anyone, your face is very expressive in reaction to your thoughts. You may be cheeky as well, and like to have something going on that nobody knows about. Your personality is really shining through here, despite it being a beauty reading lol. That's your appeal, you're a whirlwind and people can't help but notice you. Your looks just add to your character. You can enhace your beauty by increasing your activity level. Becoming fit, going to the gym or participating in an active hobby. It'll suit you well to have something that occupies your mind as well as your body. Also, to try a more somber look in regard to fashion and makeup, like a dark feminine siren type of makeup style/clothing. It seems that there is also something that you have been struggling to accept about yourself, this weighs on you and is cauising visible tiredness/strain. For some of you, it is a body part that you are insecure about, for others its a tendency to overthink and neglect yourself in the process. Learning to accept that part of yourself and developing healthy coping mechanisms to distract you in your times of mental strain will have you feeling and looking more confident.

******

That's it! Thank you for participating in this pick a card reading! If you would like to book a private reading with me, you can do so here. If you're interested in my other PAC's, you can check them out here!

[sunnyaliceart]

On the night of Friday, October 11th, we said goodbye to Cookie.

What was thought to be allergies that was mitigated with medicine, turned out to be a recurrence of cancer. This time in her nasal cavities, cutting off her ability to breathe through both her nostrils.

We've done everything in our power to figure out the best way to treat and help her with multiple ER trips and vet visits, but overall her quality of life was degrading as she was also slowing down in her old age. We didn't want her to suffer any longer.

A year and a half ago, she was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma, an aggressive bone cancer that can exist microscopically and is fatal once in the lungs. It was only found in her leg and was believed to be in remission when she finished her chemo therapy. They barely gave us a year left with her and she beat the odds by living a year and a half more.

It is not lost on us the absolute kindness the internet showed us with all the donations we received to help with her amputation operation. Because of that, she was able to live out the rest of her life to the fullest rather than having it cut short. We gave her remaining days love and peace as she was one pampered diva and we wouldn't have her any other way.

She was a rescue that had raced for two and half years, until an accident left her with a broken ankle. They tried to race her only a few days later, but when she couldn't finish the race, she was retired. My wife, Faye, then adopted her and soon discovered that this dog was allergic to meat and was able to feed her a special diet that didn't leave her miserably sick. As Faye's Emotional Support Animal, she provided comfort and responsibility that made life more bearable to go through and together would move to a new place where I eventually entered the picture. Together, we became a family with all kinds of special needs along with joyous days.

She lived over 10 years and finally got to eat meat as her last meal before peacefully drifting away in my wife's arms and me holding her paw next to them.

Thank you for everything, Cookie. We loved you so much and we hope you aren't lonely. Maybe Sugar is keeping you company now.

Rest in Peace, Cookie.

[kenjirose]

TW: Death of an Animal

One of my childhood dogs that has been around since I was 8 years old is being put down today. His name is Shepherd, and I remember the day he was born because I was woken up in the middle of the night to yelping- me, and all my siblings and family had gathered around to watch him be born right on my stepbrothers bed.

I remember it was especially cool, because Shepherd was a Halloween baby. It was around 2am and Halloween Day, when Shepherd and his litter was born. He was really unique, because out of maybe 5-7 of the puppies (I forgot the exact number-) he was the only dark chocolate one. All the others had grey spots to go with their coat but he was the only one pure dark brown.

He has been in my life for as long as I can remember experiences from my childhood. He is 11-12 years old and about 3 years ago he developed a large tumor on his lower back, that bulges very visibly from his body. It was checked out at the vet, and they said that it was just benign and harmless. Because it was harmless, we decided to leave it alone.

Fast forward to now. Over the years he has itched and scratched- his entire middle back going bald due to it. His skin is irritated so bad, he has plucked all his fur off but the vets would just recommend allergy meds to mix with food.

Shepherd can barely walk now, because the most recent vent trip when we took him in for this issue they discovered something new. They said that it was a huge non-cancerous tumor, but it had long roots that twisted and curved around his spine. It caused many more, much smaller tumors to covers his whole back- dozens of them and it made him walk in a “C” shape, all twisted.

It’s been long enough, my parents have decided that euthanasia is too much money so my dad has taken him today. He took Shepherd with him, to visit distant family who live in a place similar to the middle of nowhere. And there, he will have his brother/my uncle put him down by shooting him.

It was told to me so bluntly, it was like a stab in the chest. That they were going to do this, so of course I tried to make Shepherds final day somewhat enjoyable.

For dinner last night I made fried chicken, and then made a special little plate just for him. He can’t have the seasoning likely.. and eating mashed potatoes and gravy isn’t the best for his diet but he will be gone days before it hits his system. He deserves a good tasty last meal that isn’t dry dog food.

It sucks knowing that this morning was the last time I saw him and will ever see him. And that’s the bath I have him this morning was the last time I’d ever do so- But atleast, Shepherd can join the Angel Pets on the fridge.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

When someone comments on my insta story of my three legged dog with cancer eating food for the first time in 3 days: "you shouldn't feed canned food, it's inflammatory. You should lightly cook some raw meat for him."

Can we stop with the giving unsolicited advice on a someone else's dog's diet please? Mozart needs to eat anything he can eat right now and his GI issues are not aggravated by canned food. It's also balanced and safe for him to eat. I don't want to be stressing out over muscle to organ meat to bone ratios while I'm trying to hold everything else together.

I can't afford to feed fancy pre made fresh food, Mozart refuses to eat raw meat and I have no time to "lightly cook" a meal for him every day. I barely have to spoons to make my own meals, let alone making my dog's meals.

I am doing the goddamn best that I can.

[exhausted-archivist]

Lets Talk About Nugs

Okay so I'm on the nug train of thought here now that we have Dalish eating nugs in dao. So some fun facts about nugs and what we know about them.

They're found both subterranean and on the surface. Their codices describe how they originate from subterranean areas (the Deep Roads) but also inhabit the surface despite having skin so thin it often sunburns. This is reinforced in how we see them running around topside all over Inquisition in Haven, the Emerald Grove, and just everywhere. The common nug is so common on the surface, Kirkwall carried out the Battle of the Squealing Plains (aka nug war) because they were deemed a noxious vermin thought to carry the blight (they don't).

Dwarves (surface and Orzammar), Fereldans, Orlesians, and Dalish eat them. An Orlesian might, but one also runs the risk of eating a noblewomans pet by accident and it is insinuated that is part of why they aren't so common on the Orlesian table.

Nugs eat everything from insects (with roof beetles being a favorite), worms, mushrooms, anything they can find on the cavern floor or in your pantry, and even limestone and metals. They're described as a voracious omnivore and their diet really shows it.

They're cousins to the Greater Nuggalope and may be related to the tusket.

Their main natural predators include deepstalkers and giant spiders underground and just about every carnivore topside.

Outside of food their stomach, skin, and fat are used for a variety of craftable items.

They use their pointed snouts for digging, are nearly blind, and are hairless.

Despite being called "small", their dao depiction makes them the size of a medium dog and is echoed by the Inquisition models where nugs are roughly 21" / 54 cm at the shoulder. A medium-sized dog has the height of 16-22" / 41-56 cm at the shoulder.

They are prolific breeding animals despite the high predation rates and being described as poorly adapted for non-temperate environments.

As I work on my food project as well as the Thedas bestiary I was trying to decide the role that they fill and honestly, they seem to fill the same role one would expect a pig, vulture, or the like to fill. Cleaning up the various scraps left around the Deep Roads and being rather opportunistic in whether they'll deviate from their insect diet to plant material. We have no mention of them eating meat, so I wouldn't think they were opportunistic carnivores either.

And while this may seem obvious, I've been seeing a lot of similarities to naked-mole rats. Not counting the skin or the shared subterranean home. But from the fact that the game seems to insinuate that they are at least highly resistant to the blight; perhaps like High Dragons. Much like naked mole rats have unusual longevity and are resistant to many age related disease as well as cancer. Couple that with the fact that nugs seem to live in groups; we see this in the cave system in Crestwood, and the existence of the nug king and his court.

[jh-newman-opn]

rosary novena day 29 : sorrowful mysteries

meditation for tonight was on the reciprocal nature of the Passion. Jesus enters into our suffering, and invites us into His, thus effectively re-presenting our own suffering back to us in sanctified form.

It occurred to me at the monastery that mortification as a practice is not about punishing yourself or causing yourself pain because ""that's what you deserve"" in some nebulous sense, or in order to dissociate from the flesh in some hideously gnostic sense, but has to be done with love. An analogy would be a parent shaving their head for their child undergoing chemotherapy, or abstaining from cake because your partner's on a diet, or a pregnant woman delaying treatment for cancer until she can deliver the child safely. Mary practices mortification during the Passion by staying with her Son despite the incredible distress it must have caused her to watch Him be tortured, when Peter and the other disciples couldn't bear it and turned away.

This highlights the fundamental issue with penal substitution and other christologies that present the Passion as punishment rather than love. If Jesus is doing nothing but taking punishment on Himself, the only thing we gain by meditating on it is guilt for what we deserve, and a habit of suffering for its own sake. The Passion is Jesus taking our suffering onto Himself, not because we are so damnable and rotten that we all deserve to be tortured to death, but because we were already suffering, and when you truly love someone, you can't bear to see them suffer alone. Like Mary can't bear to leave Jesus in His suffering, Jesus does not leave us in ours, but enters it, participates in it, and says to us: my love is greater than your pain. In turn, we are invited to love Him more than we fear our own pain.

Catherine of Siena says, it was not nails that held our Lord to the Cross, but His love. The Passion is Christ's great act of mortification for love of us. Compassion, is co-suffering; suffering with.

Simon of Cyrene, and the carrying of the cross illustrates the principle. We are meant to bear our sufferings with Jesus, mutually taking up each other's crosses. Not avoiding suffering altogether, but suffering with and for the one you love.

In a way, I think you could say that Jesus' entire earthly life was His Passion. God suffered the whole mortifying ordeal of being human for love of you. Fulton Sheen has a good sermon on this called Kenosis, in which he explains that God condescending to become human is somewhat comparable to a human condescending to become a dog whilst maintaining a fully human understanding of maths, philosophy, and your capabilities as a human. Suddenly you have to sit and heel and eat out of a bowl on the floor and shit in the garden and all the while knowing the etiquette for meals with several sets of cutlery and what it was like to operate in the world as an adult human person with a job and a bank account and the capacity to talk about the Nicomachean Ethics. And the difference between a human and a dog is infinitely smaller than the great chasmic void between us and God. The only explanation for it is God's incredible love for us, that He would suffer all the little indignities of the human life cycle, culminating in every possible humiliation and agony, just to help us to carry the burden of it all as we go through our little existences.

[dogcancerfoundation]

7 Beneficial Herbs for Dogs Battling Cancer

When you first hear your dog has been diagnosed with cancer, no matter the type, you can feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach. I know, I’ve felt it, when my 9-year-old Corgi was diagnosed. Back then, traditional treatments were the most discussed, while alternative treatments were left in the dark. Fortunately, now we are learning more about how alternative therapies, like herbs for dogs with…

[jinko-hellhound]

“cancer eater” ch 1 — bungou stray dogs — atsushi, dazai, akutagawa, ensemble

True to name, Atsushi is the Man-Eating Tiger. All at once he develops fangs, a love of raw meat, and a horrible craving for his friends.

“Very dry air can make the tiny capillaries in your nose burst randomly, including in your sleep. One late, dry night in the dying days of fall, the sharp scent of copper drew Atsushi out of his closet. Barefoot and sleep-addled, he stood on the cold tatami and watched Kyouka sleep. Blood dripped down her nose, her cheek, the gentle bow of her lip. In the dark, the blood looked black.”

words: 3,559

first published: 9/3/24

characters: nakajima atsushi, dazai osamu, akutagawa ryuunosuke, edogawa ranpo, ada ensemble

relationships: nakajima atsushi/akutagawa ryuunosuke, nakajima atsushi & dazai osamu, nakajima atsushi & the armed detective agency

tags: dead dove do not eat, cannibal nakajima atsushi, graphic gore, hurt/comfort, hurt/some comfort, angst, self harm, eating disorder themes, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, armed detective agency as family

crossposted on ao3

* THIS IS NOT A DAZATSU FIC, Dazai and Atsushi’s dynamic is central and weird and toxic like in canon but firmly platonic. **NOBODY dies or is attacked by Atsushi in this fic.

warnings for this chapter: self harm, references to suicide/attempts, eating disorders/eating disorder-like behaviors, off-screen vomiting, gore, a cat dies

asks, replies, reblogs appreciated and encouraged! ask to be put on tag list!! 💕💞

It started with a dull pang in Atsushi’s stomach, a heaviness to his tongue, and an incessant craving for lentils and beef and spinach. He couldn’t stop eating, taking down two helpings for every meal, jerky sticks in between cases, protein bars while he worked. None of it satisfied him; even as his stomach bloated until he thought he’d burst, he put on no weight and his appetite only grew, and grew, and grew.

It started with his teeth becoming, somehow, too big for his mouth, forcing his lips to always hang ever so slightly open. Dazai loved this development. He liked to lean over their desks and pry Atsushi’s mouth open with his fingers and declare Look at those chompers! Hot embarrassment and overwhelming love would flood Atsushi’s cheeks when Dazai broke the monotony of work to bring the rest of the office into his jokes, or when Kunikida asked him how his gums were feeling in the mornings, or Kenji offered him a chewable necklace to ease the pain. Belonging had him floating as he walked. Belonging settled the growing pit in his stomach, or rather, belonging distracted him from how the pit was expanding exponentially each day.

The day Dazai discovered Atsushi’s growing-in teeth, Atsushi was forced to pose for a polaroid with his mouth wide and a ruler held up to his new canines. Then Yosano, with a gleeful spark in her eyes that had Atsushi shuddering, ushered him into the infirmary. She measured his canines, his nails, used some strange machine to examine his pupils. (Was she an eye doctor? Was she trained in optometry at all?) She had concerns about his braces, although it seemed like they wouldn’t pose an issue. (As always, he was embarrassed to even address his braces.) She asked after his diet and his height and his sleep patterns until she had reams and reams of notes on him. Feeling like an awful liar, he decided to keep his recent constant hunger to himself, for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

At the end of it all, she said, Be right back here when you come in next Monday. Then, taking his hand in hers, she smiled and continued, We’ve all got you, Atsushi. His fingers laid over her wrist, where her pulse was steady and hot. Its rhythm echoed through him, from his hands to his heart to his stomach to his teeth.

It started with a gaze that lingered on soft thighs, on meaty arms, on the long curves of necks and the fine details of ears. Kunikida’s broad shoulders when he stretched at his desk. Fukuzawa’s strong hands when they flexed over the hilt of his sword. Atsushi could not stop staring at everyone around him, in a way he never did before.

On the third day of Atsushi’s teeth adventure, he went on a date with Akutugawa. Which was — a recent thing. Less recent than the cravings and the teeth. But recent enough that Atsushi’s heart still fluttered when he and Akutugawa’s knees knocked underneath the cafe table.

After — well. They’d barely kissed and they’d hardly held hands. Everything between them was all new and precious, previous forced amputations and vampirisms and clawing attempts notwithstanding. Akutugawa was only just managing to choke out genuine compliments, and Atsushi was still learning how to reign Byakko’s temper in. They were still getting to know each other casually despite understanding each other intimately; they were figuring out how to be kind and couldn’t help but explode on each other still, every once in a while, until Chuuya or Dazai or Kunikida intervened in their own strange ways.

Today, everything was nice. Atsushi could not believe his luck to be sitting on this quiet cafe patio downtown, the gentle sun on his face, Akutugawa focusing on him with something like softness.

Akutugawa was in a tight turtleneck and sleek pants and designer sunglasses, his long, slender fingers resting on his mug, and Atsushi could not look away from him. Byakko caught Akutugawa’s regular heartbeat, the slight wheeze of all his breaths, the jingling of his keys whenever he shifted in his seat.

“So you’re growing fangs.” Akutugawa was stirring cream into his coffee but not looking at it. His gaze was always so intent as to discomfort. Atsushi could never handle holding Akutugawa’s eye contact too long, his eyes dark and focused; Atsushi always broke first.

Atsushi laved his tongue over his fangs, which were now always pressing into his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he sighed, spilling more sugar into his mug. “Dazai’s excited about it, at least. Yosano thinks I’m becoming more tiger-like because I’m finally eating enough, and safe, and not about to die all the time.”

Akutugawa hummed. He took a long drink of his coffee; Atsushi tracked the bobbing of his throat, mouth suddenly very dry. The white of Akutugawa’s thyroid cartilage peeked over his dark turtleneck, skin tight over delicate muscle. His shirt hugged his clavicle so that the bone stuck out like a handle. “Just don’t start eating people, jinko.”

“Right,” Atsushi said, laughing. Sticky sweat gathered at the small of his back. “How’s Gin?”

It started with canines that casually grazed his friends’ skin, playing with the idea of puncturing, a touch so light as to raise no one’s suspicion but his own. He couldn’t help it. It was instinctual that when another’s flesh neared Atsushi’s face, he’d twist his head, open his mouth, and let his teeth rest. Junichiro’s forearm, when he slung his arm over Atsushi’s shoulders. Kyouka’s jugular, when she fell asleep on his chest. He was transfixed, frozen, his teeth always hovering.

Atsushi discovered himself doing this for the first time while joking around with Dazai and Kunikida. Well, mostly with Dazai — Kunikida didn’t seem to think it was very funny, the way Dazai and Atsushi were bantering back and forth, tossing paper airplanes and erasers and crumpled reports, cursing dramatically every time they were hit. Kunikida berated Dazai, who pinned it on Atsushi, who started shooting back how he knew how many stacks of paperwork Dazai had hidden in his locker. Dazai scrambled across the desk, slapped his hand over Atsushi’s mouth, and started rambling out his explanations.

Atsushi did not fight. The heat of Dazai’s palm shocked him. He only needed to open his mouth a millimeter to rest the points of his canines on the full, calloused pade of fat there, his breath shaking with the threat of sinking down. Atsushi swore he could feel Dazai’s soul marching under his rough armor of skin, could feel it in his tongue and in his gums.

Dazai was still going back-and-forth with an increasingly irate Kunikida, but his eyes slid over to Atsushi. His fingers twitched, his index pressing purposefully into Atsushi’s cheek, and Atsushi realized he should have been sputtering and stammering and swatting Dazai away that whole time. So he did — with all the drama and indignance he could — but Dazai was still watching him, in that way he did when he wanted Atsushi to know he was being studied.

It started with his cuticles.

With him curled up in his closet, his canines digging into the tough skin around his nails, his pupils blowing wide at the copper taste of his own hot blood. It was Lucy’s wrists — the sight of them twisting as she poured his tea, the sudden, horrific, desperate thought of those fragile veins bursting on his tongue — which sent him here.

It was dark and dusty in the closet in which he slept. But his pupils were as blown as they could be, and Byakko had no problem watching the trickle of blood catch in the grooves of his knuckles. She chased it with her rough tongue, bit into his fingerbones, punctured the web between pointer and middle like paper.

Everything was quiet but for soft whimpers and the gentle sound of suckling on one’s own blood. Atsushi’s mouth trailed down, down, until he hit the meat of his forearm. His jaw opened wider, the points of his teeth settled on his flesh. A breath in, a breath out. Heady anticipation. He sank in. Bliss.

Tough meat, tender fat. Move up towards his wrist, find veins — hook his teeth into them, pull them out like licorice. Dizzy with it. Blurry vision, a pounding in his temples. Byakko’s regeneration made quick work of it, and he went again, until he no longer wished it was Lucy’s cephalic vein which he worked into the gap between his two front teeth.

At some point Byakko grew tired. He stood and found that she did not regenerate blood nearly as quickly as she regenerated flesh; gasping for air, he collapsed back down and laid there, yellow fat and drying blood smeared across his cheeks.

Eventually he realized his own flesh wasn’t enough.

Well, he says eventually. But the moment he first sank his teeth into his arm, he knew it wouldn’t work. It did its job — at first — but it left him numb, and desperate, a pit still in his stomach.

He was eating a lot of raw meat, these days. He tried sushi and sashimi to satisfy that urge, but it wasn’t bloody enough, wild enough, to replace — well. It didn’t satiate Byakko. Grocery store beef and chicken worked for a while, so long as he gnawed on his own arms every few days.

When Kyouka wasn’t home Atsushi would crouch over his counter, shovel the meat into his mouth, relish in the endless chewing of the tougher bits, the fat melting on his tongue, the cartilage crunching. There was lots of cartilage, lots of bone, lots of tough bits. He always bought the cheapest stuff. And he never got sick from it.

Afterwards Byakko would rumble approval and rest. She’d curl into the back of his mind, happy as a cat with cream, and Atsushi would find himself a beast, breathing ragged in the middle of his kitchen, blood and juices dribbling down his chin, the sun sinking low in the window.

But she would always be hungry again within the hour. So he dug into himself more, and more, and more. His thighs suffered too. He was drawing more and more blood, circling it back through himself, catching his own flesh and bits of bone.

Byakko worked hard but Atsushi knew he was starting to look a little anemic — always ghastly pale like he was when Dazai first found him, stumbling wherever he went. The others noticed. Ranpo was always squinting at him these days. Where’s your lunch, Atsushi? He was Atsushi’s worst nightmare right now — asking him about blood loss, iron deficiencies, diet. Always whispering to Yosano.

Atsushi tried local farmers and hunters, buying straight from the source. Then he’d had to haltingly explain to Kyouka why there was half a deer in their freezer, and anyway, it didn’t help much. And it drained his wallet.

So all of this was just… stopgaps. Preventative measures that became more and more desperate as that persistent ache made a home in his stomach.

He began to develop a horrible craving for his friends.

Not that strangers didn’t catch his eye. He’d go on jobs and stop and stare at murder victims, mouth flooding with saliva. He’d claw down a suspect and stop himself with his teeth scant inches from their jugulars. It was becoming harder and harder to be in public for the way his gaze couldn’t help but stick. Kyouka told him he was becoming a hermit.

But murder victims and murder suspects and waitresses and bus drivers… they just didn’t appeal to him nearly as much as his coworkers. Lucy’s cheeks were wonderfully full when she smiled, he noticed over a cup of tea. Kyouka’s shoulder was birdbone frail, but if he shifted his head the right way when he leaned on her he could feel the sweet rhythm of her pulse at the base of her neck. Yosano’s calves were beautifully accentuated by her heels, and Atsushi couldn’t help but track her graceful steps. When Ranpo offered candies to Atsushi, hands outstretched, Atsushi took special note of the soft plumpness of his wrists.

And Dazai, who was always touching Atsushi — arm around his shoulders, cheek leaning into the top of his head, sides flush together when Dazai was curious about Atsushi’s work — was just so very warm.

One day, Dazai came to work smelling of blood. Dazai said nothing of it. He was walking fine; the blood smelled not like it was old, but like it was clotting, and there wasn’t much of it. This was far from abnormal from Dazai. Atsushi had long since given up on expressing any concern, because Dazai always dismissed him, and all it ever served to do was shutter Dazai’s expression and make him all closed off and fake for the rest of the day. All Atsushi could do was watch, and try to prevent.

No one else noticed the blood, except Byakko was yowling.

When they worked, Dazai was usually only a few feet away from Atsushi. Their desks were corner-caddy; this was usually wonderful. Usually, Atsushi used their position to his advantage to always spy. He liked to watch Dazai and his unpredictability out of the corner of his eye, attempt to force Dazai into something understandable.

Today, their proximity was torture. Every man’s blood, Atsushi found, had a slightly different scent to it. Atsushi had smelled Dazai’s a million times and until recently it had never smelled so sweet that he needed to chug it.

The smell was clogging his throat. Atsushi kept forgetting his work, hunched over his desk like a freak, outright staring at Dazai for tens of seconds at a time. Dazai had to have noticed, but Dazai was good at acting like he had not noticed things in a way that told you he had absolutely noticed.

Desperately, Atsushi brought one of his hands up to his face to stifle the scent. He was able to work for ten, fifteen minutes. That smell of blood — of liquor and something heavy, of wet dog and cigarette smoke — crept in, but it was slow about it, sneaky; Atsushi didn’t realize his hand had stopped being effective until his teeth were already sinking into the hill of his palm. And then helplessly he bit, and bit, unable to stop himself, to even think about stopping himself.

And Kunikida shouted, his sharp voice ripping Atsushi’s teeth out of his own flesh. Not without carnage: bits of his own flesh caught on his canines and plopped onto the desk.

This was the first time Atsushi really had to lie. With his own blood pooling in the cracks in his lips, he stammered out something about zoning out, didn’t realize my teeth had gotten so sharp! Then he stumbled off to his lunch break.

The President had a gaggle of stray cats which gathered on the windowsills and in the halls and on the front stoop. Atsushi loved them from his first day at the Office. Helped Fukuzawa name all the new ones, volunteered to feed them, spent his breaks with them.

There was a convenient alleyway behind the Agency to which Atsushi often disappeared. When work and socialization got too much, the cheap metal chair and table someone had put out here were his lifeboat. The cats were a lovely bonus.

Lady, the fat black Maine-coon Atsushi had once nursed back from starvation, was the only cat around today. As soon as Atsushi sat down Lady jumped up onto the table, shoving her head under Atsushi’s trembling hands for pets; Atsushi admired her utter lack of shame.

“Hi, love,” Atsushi said, his head ducking low so Lady could hear the tremoring softness of his voice. Lady’s face tilted up to meet him. The top of her skull met Atsushi’s nose and lips. Byakko had healed Atsushi’s palm, but when he pushed his fingers into Lady’s fur, flecks of his drying blood caught.

That morning, Atsushi had eaten three steaks. His stomach did not seem to know this. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, Byakko was thinking. Lady purred as though attempting to distract Atsushi so he shoved his face into her neck. He took deep breaths that smelled of dirt and fish and wet cat, trying to chase out Dazai.

Atsushi’s phone chirped — it was Akutugawa texting. Ryuunosuke, Atsushi thought to himself. They were trying first names, now. It was nice. New. And kind. But this text was an awful development, not for its content but for the way Atsushi’s blood ran hotter when he saw the name.

Despite all he’d eaten, he was still so hungry. Byakko heard him think Ryuunosuke and all her crooning of Dazai became screaming, wailing for Ryuunosuke, Ryuunosuke, Ryuunosuke, for that pale throat, that handle-bar clavicle. For his adam’s apple. Byakko wanted — Atsushi wanted — to roll it around his mouth like a ball.

It was entirely unconscious, sinking his fangs into Lady’s neck. Atsushi did not realize he had done it until he was already tearing out a chunk of flesh and fur and Lady was yowling, then whimpering, then nothing. And then Lady was still warm when Atsushi found her trachea and esophagus, and then her tiny heart and lungs.

Atsushi cried with it, shook with it; Byakko trembled in pleasure. The tender meat of Lady’s thigh was Yosano’s. The dying thrum of her heart was Kyouka’s. The warmth of her was Dazai’s. And the blood was Ryuunosuke’s, all Ryuunosuke’s.

He laid Lady’s bones to rest in a dumpster, then washed off in the cafe restroom, keeping his head ducked and eyes far away from Lucy’s. He was thirty minutes late back from his break. In the office he was silent, and heavy, and kept his back to Ranpo always.

Of course, Atsushi knew Ranpo knew. Ranpo held the fatal stopwatch — he could decide, at any millisecond, that Atsushi’s secret was up. This was only a matter of time.

It was late the night after Lady’s death that Ranpo appeared at Atsushi’s front door, a cage full of rats in his hands. Pale and hovering in the soft light, Ranpo looked, as he always did, a little otherworldly. His face was carefully calm. The rats squeaked a symphony that struck cold fear up Atsushi’s spine.

“Ranpo,” Atsushi laughed unconvincingly, “what’s this?”

Ranpo set the cage on the counter with a strong degree of solemnity. The lights weren’t on in the dorm, except for the nauseous yellow glow emanating from the bathroom, where Atsushi had just been hunched over the toilet, fingers down his throat, forcing himself to throw up his own blood. He thought his knuckles might be glaringly raw. And despite his regeneration, he was sure there was still blood on his thighs and forearms and the soft white cotton of his pajamas. But he was too scared to look down and check.

“You need to eat living things,” Ranpo said in lieu of how are you. His mouth was tight, eyes sharp.

Atsushi swallowed. Ranpo was — he was always very — wonderful. Amazing. At the start of things — the very start, when Atsushi was brand new and always swinging wildly between a ravenous appetite and complete self-starvation, it was Ranpo who left candies and chips and chocolate in his desk drawers. Ranpo who always knew when Atsushi was going home feeling off, who called Kunikida to make sure someone checked on Atsushi’s dorm late at night. Ranpo who knew when Atsushi was — when he would need Yosano to come and clean him up from his own messes even Byakko couldn’t fix.

And it was Ranpo who set the cage of rats on his living room table.

Haltingly, Atsushi said: “I need to eat people.”

“…But you won’t, will you, Atsushi?” Ranpo said it softly, with the intonation of a question; But it was Ranpo, and he was absolutely assured in his own correctness. Confidence was there in the set of his jaw.

Atsushi thought this wildly hopeful, even for Ranpo. It was rare that he doubted the Agency’s greatest detective, but — Atsushi had already started to eat himself.

Gesturing to the rats, Ranpo said, “You can be like a vegetarian.”

If it was anyone else but Ranpo, and if it were any other situation, this would come off as a lighthearted joke. But it was Ranpo, and he said it with complete earnestness and self-esteem. And while Atsushi thought Ranpo was, for once, wildly off base, he realized his heart was warm with love, for the kindness of this gesture — even though really Ranpo was probably only doing it to keep Atsushi from having Kenji for lunch.

His heart was absolutely white-hot with it, and all that love swirled in him until he found that he wanted to take his claws to Ranpo’s shoulders and lap up the blood.

“Let,” Ranpo started haltingly, a hand hovering over Atsushi’s upper arm, the pads of his fingers grazing copper-stained skin, “Let Dazai or the President — or myself — know, if you need anything.”

And then because Ranpo was no more a paragon of emotional intelligence than the rest of them, he left. And Atsushi went back to his bile-yellow bathroom, where his own blood in his own toilet seat. Over the cracking porcelain bowl, he bit into a squealing rat.

[megpricephotography]

Poor Flynnie has to have an ultrasound scan on Thursday :( He is STILL having some pretty severe gut problems, 2 months after they started... Plus, the most recent blood test we did showed up some slightly “off” results, nothing major but various levels were a bit higher, or lower than they should be - including some stuff related to kidney function.

After seeing the results, the vet asked me to get a urine sample. It turns out Flynn’s losing protein in his urine & his urine is also too dilute. High protein levels in urine often happens because a dog has chronic kidney disease but it can also be a temporary issue, due to infection/inflammation, (or other illnesses... like cancer, which I hope is very unlikely to be the cause here). Regardless of the reason it is happening, it puts a strain on the kidneys. Or, in Flynn’s case, a strain on his kidney. Singular. Flynn only has 1 kidney... so we really can’t mess around with this. He’s now on a “renal diet” & if it’s safe, may start on ACE inhibitors to reduce strain on his kidney. The ultrasound will look at both Flynn’s gut & his kidney, so I guess we’ll just have to wait & see if anything shows up. 

I lost Barney, less than 3 weeks ago - after he’d had the exact same infection as Flynn. Barney went from having mild kidney disease, to being in kidney failure in the space of less than a month. Barney was very elderly, of course... but, still... I don’t know what is going on with Flynn. He’s been treated twice for giardia infection, we’ve been manically cleaning to prevent reinfection, he’s on probiotics & was on GI food. He is an apparently otherwise healthy dog & he really should be getting better by now & instead, if anything he seems in some ways worse than he was 6-8 weeks ago. Argh, I am so stressed. My poor little guy :( 

[kaikamahine]

hard read under the cut. tw for death.

things i wish i wouldn't have to remember

the way her eyes bulged.

her tongue, pushing out between her teeth. i tried to pry her jaws apart, to clear her airway, but they were locked tight. i couldn't. her tongue was bleeding.

her eyes bulged. they pointed in different directions. like a ghibli character, enraged.

"i'm a little dizzy," she had said, before she listed to one side. before her eyes did that awful thing.

i grabbed her face. i righted it. i pointed it at me.

"mom!" i called. "yeah?" she said. "MOM!" i called. her eyes slid back to center, on me. "what?" she said. it wasn't speaking, really. her mouth barely moved. her tongue pushed.

these were the last words she said to me.

i was right there, kneeling in front of her. her head in my hands. calling to her.

her color was bad. so so bad.

i saw her eyes go away. i saw her stop breathing.

i hauled her to the floor. you need a hard surface to start cpr. her jaws rigid, couldn't clear her airway. called 911. wailed. mom's not breathing! mom's not breathing!

chest compressions. 911 had to remind me how to place my hands.

my brother told me, later, when i told him i was never going to forget how her eyes went fixed, that he was never going to forget the sight of me, throwing all my weight onto her chest.

he was there, throwing open the front door and hauling furniture out of the way. could hear sirens now. dog barking.

men coming in. man with a braid said, "i'll take over from here, sweetheart." his chest compressions looked a lot different from mine.

lot of men after that. women, too. all in blue. lots of plastic on the floor. they cut her sweatshirt off. the teal one, with the poinsettias. her shirt, her bra. she always tucked kleenex in her bra, for when her pants pockets were too far away. it went everywhere.

a machine. like an engine. they put it over her chest and strapped her wrists to it, so she was holding it up. it did the chest compressions now. hard. her body jerked with each one. she would have liked to see it.

a man, to me: is she allergic to anything? me, to him: everything. but nothing medical.

him, to me: does she have any health problems? me, to him: everything. breast cancer, diabetes, bad kidneys, eczema.

him, to the others: diabetic. get a sugar.

it was 570.

the thought, then, like a blow. like an axe to the head: had /I/ done this?

she just had a bout of diarrhea. i KNEW she tended to slide on her diet when she had the runs, to keep up her salts.

diabetic means no starch. but she needs a high fiber diet, too, her doctor said, and there's fiber in beans, peas, some vegetables. but the most fiber is in grains.

so we compromised. i would give her a high-fiber cereal for breakfast, when she was most likely to take her insulin straight afterward. healthy blood sugars are below 120. she usually ran in the 200s, even fasting.

never 570.

i didn't think about how she'd probably eaten something salty starchy. i didn't think that she probably would have forgotten her nightly insulin. i gave her breakfast as usual.

i didn't know, then, that it had been her heart. i thought it was a diabetic coma.

we were on the floor for half an hour. they stopped the machine twice, to check. i knew what a flatline sounded like.

a man, to me: sometimes in this situation we can call it. but your mother's markers are rising, which tells me her body wants to function. we'll take her to the hospital so they can try.

onto the stretcher. out the door.

it's december. below freezing. they put the blanket under her, to protect her from the stretcher. nothing on top of her. because of the machine, maybe?

my mom is hard to embarrass. but outside with all those men around with her breasts hanging out in the air would have flustered even her, i think.

hospital. there was an underground garage for parking. i was still in my nightdress. i'd grabbed a sweatshirt for my mom, thinking she'd want one since they cut her other one off, but i'd forgotten anything for me. fuck, it was cold.

a room in the lobby with a door that shut.

then a doctor. i don't remember her name. and trista, the chaplain.

it doesn't look good, they said. would you like to see her?

of course i would. what kind of question is that.

it was the first room inside the doors. so many people swarming. i couldn't have gotten to my mom's side even if i wanted.

doctor touched my arm. pointed to the heart monitor. said, surprised, "the situation's turned around. they've got her."

said, "but she was gone for so long. i want to manage your expectations. the brain damage is likely very severe."

i would take care of her no matter what, i said. she's my mom.

i wish

i wish now

with all my heart

i wish i had called out to her. while they had her. while she was there.

i wish i wish i wish

mom don't you dare leave me. mom you're going to be so mad if you miss this. mom. mom mom mama. don't leave me here.

but i didn't want to interrupt. mom was a retired medical professional. she trusted the process implicitly. and so many people were working so hard to save her.

she crashed again. they called it at 11:27am.

do you know the strangeness of a body in a hospital with nothing hooked up to it?

there's no mistaking a corpse for anything else.

her forehead was cold. her hand was cold. i hadn't brushed her hair yet that morning, so it was frizzing out of the braid she'd slept in. they'd closed her eyes.

i think i stroked her forehead so much that my warmth transferred into her, because when my brother got there it was better.

trista said (and signed, to our surprise,) take all the time you need.

but, not long later, and with genuine regret, i'm so sorry, but they need the room.

oh no, i said to my mom, i'm going to steal one more kiss. and did.

a frequent joke. would kiss her head once i'd gotten her comfy on the sofa, and then goblin scuttle back to steal one more. she'd laugh. oh no! she'd echo. not my daughter! not a kiss! her short term memory had been fraying, so it was a new joke every time.

closed the door behind my brother and i.

trista had been right: the er waiting room was packed. standing room only. with us, tear-stained, and trista, it was obvious what kind of procession we were. i hoped it helped someone; no one's ever in the er for anything good, but i hoped someone could look at us and think, at least i'm not them.

home, then.

my brother had tidied. cleaned the plastic up and the remains of mom's clothes, and her pill bottle that i'd knocked to the floor when i'd hauled her off the sofa. he'd adjusted the pillows, straightened the towel. it looked like a sofa in anyone's living room, not like the place my mother had nestled into and lived for the last six years.

her doctor called. emily. we saw her once a month. she's genuinely the best. all those posts warning you about bad faith doctors and to not be afraid to be firm and finding one to take you seriously, and we found her on the first try.

it had just come through on the patient portal, she said. oh my god, oh my god, honey. i'm so sorry.

emily, i said. wailed, really. emily, did i kill her? her blood sugar was 570.

no, she said. no no no. elizabeth, no. it was her heart. it says right here. it was a heart attack.

it was the first i'd heard of it.

how, i said. how? her heart was the only thing that wasn't wrong with her!

but there's no answer to that, of course.

it's so quiet.

it's two days, now. and it's so quiet. no tv, no wheels clattering on the tile as she trundles to the bathroom or into the kitchen to get more iced tea from the fridge. no one calling for me to maybe do that last thing for her, pretty please.

so quiet. my mom's not here.

things i am likely never ever ever to forget

it's the same list

[basketcase1982]

what are some of your favorite pieces of henenlotter trivia 😳

being indulged is so exhilarating im literally shaking right now... EHEHEHE

probably my favorites to parrot to new watchers are the gross-out tidbits LMAO. i love the scenes in the public theater and the bradley's basement, which were a gay porno theater and an underground sex dungeon respectively. to shoot this scene:

they used one of several identical baskets with the bottom cut out, and Frank laid on the floor with his head stuck through the gap and the camera angled up. laying on the floor of a bathroom. the public bathroom of a gay porno theater. in NYC. the presence of bodily fluids just didnt occur to him until he was already on the ground

more under cut cus i'm silly and it got long

another favorite from BC is the 2-second shot where Belial is being puppeted by an 8 year old girl (Ilze Balodis' daughter) because the foam had shrunk and decayed so much only her tiny hands could fit inside the prop. she was scared of the monster and they had to gently warm her up to it by letting her pet the puppet and stuff. this is during the scene in Casey's room when B just wiggles his fingers lol. it's really cute and to me exemplifies how much of a little family-made film this is

i have so so so so many more but other than basket case (sorry), the entire absolute shit show that was the making of bad biology 2008. it's recounted in the rap song during the credits, but my personal favorites:

right before plans to start shooting, their budget was ripped out from under them because the main investor was found by police dogs in the middle of the woods. i dont remember how or why

one week before shooting the landlord of their location tripled rent, so they had to move

producer found a 22 room mansion to film in somehow, so problem solved

they go broke a week into shooting anyway

they are living on set in the mansion with no heat or water

sewer pipes in the mansion bust and flood piss and shit everywhere

then a fuse box explodes in the basement

which catches the fucking mansion on fire

Frank puts out the fire by himself with cans of diet pepsi?

other unfortunate highlights include: finding the lead actor from MySpace, scrambling for actors because of pull outs and no-shows, being mistaken for potential terrorists, and the film being unrated because they literally just didn't have the money to pay the MPAA. to top it all off, Frank was diagnosed with cancer a month before shooting, and was in radiation therapy every single morning while working on the film :(

the universe did not want that fucking movie to be made but by gods grace he did it & i respect it immensely