#he will be okay if he doesn't have a pancreas

[olauivers]

"he might lose his pancreas 😱"

SO DID I MAN IT'S NOT THAT BAD GET A GRIP. IT'S BETTER THAN DYING.

[the-ace-with-spades]

I'll never write it because it hits a bit too close home for me to write it without mental strain (I'd read it okay tho...) but I have a very specific scenario in my head so—

Bradley gets the same type of cancer his mom died from.

I imagine it's lung or pancreas cancer because I've seen those and they can be quite aggressive or progressive depending on type. In my head, Carole was in her late thirties/early forties at the latest when she got sick and I imagine it was unexpected and quick, as it often is with young cancer.

The thing is, people deal with cancer diagnosis differently in so many ways — some are in complete denial, some try to stay optimistic for their family, and some just... give up.

Bradley's seen enough cancer and death that he can't deny it but he also can't ever believe he has any luck left in life.

He's in his late 20s. He's just been proposed as his squad's candidate for Top Gun. The DADT just got removed. He has a long-term, serious partner (Jake) who he might not be completely open about everything yet but whom he loves and plans to marry and who loves him back. They're planning on buying a house, Jake talks about having kids. Bradley met Jake's family and his life didn't blow up and they even liked him. The years after he stopped talking to Mav were tough, but he's feeling as settled and as happy with his life as he can be at the time.

He goes to his routine physical as normal, maybe his spirometry comes up short or maybe his bloods are a bit off, or maybe he's just feeling more tired than normal and the doc has a feeling.

Doc informs him about the suspicions, he gets the tests done and it turns from suspicion to reality. At no point Bradley mentions it to Jake. He's taken off flying schedule, sure, but he doesn't tell anyone why, just making something up about his eyesight getting worse or maybe about a recurring ear or sinus infection.

Even if the diagnosis wasn't that bad and the oncologist was optimistic prognosis-wise, Bradley, who has already heard the exact same words about his mom's diagnosis, wouldn't believe it at all. Maybe he wouldn't believe it at all to the point that he'd refuse treatment and just let life run its course.

He'd start planning.

Get everything sorted out while he can. Make it as painless for everyone as much as he can.

And it starts small and escalates quickly. He updates his will, he has a med leave meeting with his superiors, advocates for a transfer to an office role.

He breaks up with Jake, still not telling him a thing. Just so he doesn't have to go through it with Bradley as well — because he knows he'd. And you bet he does the break up in a way that pisses Jake off to the point he doesn't realize how suspicious everything is — the timing, the medical leave, Bradley changing from 'let's buy a house together and have kids' to 'i don't think we can really work out together' on the span of weeks. He's brash in the worst way, and obviously, it also makes their friend group wary and isolates him — which was exactly his plan.

There's one person who he knows will be forever guilty if they don't talk. So, you know, he takes a trip down to China Lake and he and Mav talk. He says all the right things he knows Mav wants to hear — that he forgives him, that he's not mad anymore, that he understands, that he still considers Mav his sort of dad and that he was pissed but he's ready to move on. Maybe Mav does the unexpected and explains to Bradley why he pulled the papers and maybe Bradley actually forgives him.

So, you know, with that Bradley is all ready to take on everything alone, never have anyone find out and just start, well, dying on his own, medical partial leave, all of his stuff sold or written into the will, potential transfer to a paper-pushing position in Point Mugu, far away from everyone who could ever care about him, any people who could ever be affected at all by his illness in the blind.

He was not counting on one thing, though — that Mav, forgiven and missing over ten years of Bradley's life, will try to be part of his life again. Calls, visits — Bradley can't really keep it hidden that he's just rolled over his life in the span of weeks, even if he doesn't not why. Bradley was young when his mom got sick but not that young — he remembers how Mav took it, he's not going to retraumatize him.

But it's really hard not to let Mav know too much when he's asking about everything, and he mentions Jake once and Mav runs wild with the information. First starts to prod Bradley, then tries to do his own investigation and finds out that Jake was stationed at the same base and that they had been together before they broke up abruptly not long ago.

He thinks he's connected the dots — Bradley's weird behavior has to be due to heartbreak, y'know — and tries to play a bit of a wingman by approaching Hangman on his own.

The two people Bradley is trying to keep in the blind meet and realize something is fishy. Jake not only gets hit with the face with Bradley's estranged dad existing but also not being estranged anymore and with that Bradley is acting freaking weird. Mav gets hit in the face because it was Bradley who did the breaking up in the nastiest way possible (and he raised him better than that and also can still see he's got the sad lovesick puppy face whenever Mav tries to bring Jake up) but also with the realization that whatever Bradley is doing, he's got them fooled.

In the end, I think it'd be Ice who figures it out (whether or not he and Mav are together in this scenario). Hears all about it from Mav and Jake and has this moment when it all kind of spins in his head, his own experiences and feelings making a callback, and just tells them, it sounds like he's preparing for a goodbye.

Needless to say, Jake is pissed, Mav is pissed. They stage an intervention and you know that Bradley coughs up (probably in some dramatic way as well... like getting sick to the point they call an ambulance for him...). They definitely freak out when they find out he's been refusing treatment this whole time.

(I don't want to go into actual details of treatment but you can bet Mav and Jake are fucking glued to him from then on and they watch him like hawks. It's not all roses and I don't believe it'd be a quick treatment, probably running long, having better and worse days. Maybe he won't even be able to fly afterwards, once he's in remission. Maybe he never goes into remission. I don't know, I don't like thinking that far...)

[dropintomanga]

Sometimes, Mental Health Pros Suck - On ANN's Pulled Nagata Kabi Review

So I heard something controversial happened in the world of manga reviews. And it quite happens to revolve around a manga figure a lot of people know too well - Nagata Kabi.

Nagata's latest release in the U.S., My Pancreas Broke, But My Life Got Better, was reviewed by Anime News Network. While I normally find their reviews of manga to be fine, something about this one ticked off A LOT of people on social media. Then I heard it got pulled off the website a few days after it was published, but I later found it via Archive.org.

So I read what the review was like and there's a few points that came to my mind.

First, I can see why people were saying the reviewer, who is an actual mental health professional, was condescending towards Nagata's experiences. Throughout all of her works, Nagata always seems to be going through something. It can make someone think that she's not trying hard enough, especially if you're a professional whose job is to help people like Nagata.

Second, the reviewer expressed frustration over Nagata not getting better. Maybe some of the frustration is warranted, but the thing is the reviewer doesn't really know, know Nagata. They're only getting a glimpse of Nagata's personality through her works. While the works do provide a clear and often heavy picture of her life so far, I don't think they tell the whole story. I remember Nagata saying she struggles with how she portrays herself in her memoir manga compared to how she is in person. There's always multiple layers to a person.

Lastly, I know people are saying "How dare they call themselves a mental health pro if they are acting like an insensitive prick." My response to that is because psychiatry/psychology has become a conflict-riddled field where some professionals turn out to be pricks. They are taught a very Western way of thinking in that the individual has no one to blame but themselves for whatever mental health disorder they have. All of the solutions should be placed in the hands of the individual. A lot of mental health professionals aren't trained well enough to strongly consider factors (i.e. cultural/socioeconomic) outside of the individual that cause people to have mental distress.

While it does suck that Nagata seems to have something going on most of the time, I do want her to be okay. I don't want her to force herself to be happy for the sake of other people. I have a lot of compassion for Nagata. While the reviewer says that she should get the professional help she needs and considering the reviewer's earlier comments, I honestly don't know if it might be the best idea for Nagata.

A long while back, when I was in therapy, my social worker switched me to a different psychiatrist than the one I was seeing at the time. I was originally under a Chinese psychiatrist, but my social worker said the new one fitted my schedule more. So I said alright. The new psychiatrist was a really old white male in his '60s-'70s with glasses. When I saw them for the first time, one of the first questions he asked was "How is my sex life?" I was aghast and questioned why he asked that. Then he went on to say "Maybe you should get a girlfriend. It can help your depression." Over the next few sessions, that psychiatrist's line of questioning about my well-being became a bit too personal to my liking. I told him to stop asking those questions and he apologized. I later told my social worker that I don't want to see him anymore despite her saying that he's a funny guy.

Seeing that review made me think about that awful psychiatrist experience I had and I do not want Nagata to go through moments like that because there's a good amount of bad apples in the mental health industry.

I'm glad ANN took down that review because they're not mental health professionals. And people like that reviewer are one of the big reasons why I got rid of the Manga Therapy name. I don't think professionals have all the answers to life's problems.

Going forward, there was a good question asked on social media - how do you make mental illness relatable to those who don’t have it? That's hard because mental illness is always portrayed as "crazy", "sick", "mad", etc. While it's clear that extreme forms of mental illness can be problematic, I feel that depression and anxiety are normal signs that the world is messed up. You think that people in power want to admit that they're the ones causing a lot of mental health problems?

You know, I think all people living with mental illness want is to not just be relatable - they want compassion, that's it.

And in a way that doesn't come off as something that sounds too much like a professional/expert, but more from an actual human being that doesn't have to act like one.

[prettyhawkward]

TW-- Medical talk. Blood. Surgery.

Okay so- sinus surgery went good! No weird complications and they didn't have to go in through my mouth, that was a big relief. The staff were all lovely and in all it was far easier and less stressful and bad than expected. Was discharged on the same day, came home and rested and resting more today. I feel a bit swollen inside and swallowing doesn't feel great and the leaking has slowed but not stopped. Whenever I get up to go to the toilet I get more leaking of blood and fluid.

The worst thing probably is that my pancreas really really hurts. It kept waking me up through the night and I honestly thought the sinus discomfort would be the thing keeping me up, not my pancreas?

Also just found this summary of my 'problems/comorbidities' to be hilarious.

Does he have that... you know... Transgender/Autism/Malnutrition??

Jokes aside the staff were all lovely. One did quietly ask me 'how far along are you?' And I was sort of like... I dont think there's really... a timeline in that way..? I've been on T for over a year but I don't have top surgery if that's what you mean. And she was like... 'do you have a uterus?' Me: 'yep' Her: 'I'm sorry but could you do a pregnancy test..?' And I'm like yeah that's fine but I'm like really really really not pregnant.

(He was not pregnant)

Look at my fashion fashion baby. I really like the dvt socks... I know a lot of people don't but I think I enjoy the compression so much? It feels so comforting and good?

Next pic has blood on some gauze if you're squeamish abt blood.

Anyway... that's that I suppose. The day after tomorrow I need to use this nasal spray thing to clear out clots and stuff and I'm not excited about that at all but hopefully it will be easy and fine.

[the-firebird69]

Give me a few feet in the guy starts crying like a little girl doesn't really have anything in him for this kind of action and he doesn't have any idea that he doesn't and we're going to take care of business but we're also going to clean out his local accounts make sure he doesn't have liquidity here and I'd like to make it so they can't move cuz I want to just going to drag them around

Zues Hera

Going to keep them in town today at around 1:30 p.m. it's going to go to about 1.7 rad and John remillard and his cancer will start to grow and he'll have 50% throughout his whole body it'll be in 50% of his organs by the end of the day today and he'll have a 20% infection and some organs will start shutting down like his pancreas which he keeps threatening on her son and his gallbladder and it will clog completely and he'll get very sick. The warnings were issued by his own people we should warnings and here he is and he's sitting in 0.7 rad thinking he's invincible and he is susceptible to radiation his body is relatively normal and his head isn't so he thinks he's fine because he can still think so it's going to be possibly a short day for him when he goes to the hospital but we don't think he'll make it there because we don't want him to but we know what our son is doing at 1:30 and these idiots will be following him

Thor Freya

Olympus

What an unbelievable loser this guy is everybody should have seen him in westborough as Billy Hicks and as Dave stager and you should know that he is a complete absolute failure but you don't it's really remarkable but he's fairly annoying okay and I'm young but I'm taking advantage of it I guess it's a deception that you can't resist falling for so cheesy

Zues

It's huge gobs of cheese you just gobbling it up like little f****** morons

Hera

Okay folks we ordered them out and it's still there and he's massively annoying

Thor Freya

Olympus

[blackkat15]

🕸️🕷️ Spidersona Time 🕷️🕸️

Sona Profile:

Name: Caterina Candia Hero-Name: Ragno-Rosa Age: 20 Height: 170cm Appearance: Olive toned skin, mid length reddish dark brown hair with gold streaks, dark brown eyes Spidersuit: Mainly magenta with gold accents, small pockets on the thighs, with purple fingerless gloves, a hood and black boots. Personality: Shy, smart-ass, kind, awkward, ambivert Powers: Powerful legs, flexibility, borderline immortal, organic webbing (she still has type one diabetes though)

Eddie Brock Profile:

Age: 21

Height: 185cm

Appearance: Fair toned skin, short curly blonde hair with an undercut, blue eyes, toned physique.

Personality: Introvert, kind, isn’t afraid to speak his mind

Sona Introduction:

"Okay… Let’s do this one last time…

My name is Caterina Candia.

I was bitten by some mutated, radioactive purple gold jumping spider during a trip to Korea.

And… for the past year and a half I’ve been Italy’s one and only Ragno-Rosa.

You guys should know the rest.

I’m a type one diabetic coding/programming major, I beat up a bunch of bad guys, and I work as a freelance graphic/web designer… huh that’s ironic…

Anyway…

I also help out my family with our restaurant downtown.

I don’t have much going for me other than my powerful legs, my stupid pancreas dying on me, my borderline immortality and these new golden streaks in my hair.

Oh and my boyfriend is being inhabited by a symbiote..."

Eddie/Venom Backstory:

Edward is the Italian correspondent for a British news channel. He had recently gotten an interview with a company that had just completed a space mission and were doing new tests to cure cancer and prolong life.

Edward being the detective he is, decides to do some further research on the ethics of the company. He finds several dead test subjects in the facility along with some strange otherworldly liquid. He finds a homeless woman who he had interviewed last week and she lunges on him to transfer the Venom symbiote to Edward.

Edward, freaking out, goes to his new girlfriend Caterina with the news that something was crawling around inside his body. As soon as Caterina says the word “parasite” she nearly gets her head bitten off by the symbiote.

Art and concept stuff under cut

Spider that was used as inspo

Concept art made in the Spider Warrior creator and this picrew (it unfortunately doesn't work anymore rip)

Early drawing of my Sona before I gave her a name

[dredshirtroberts]

as usual, interactions with my family (benign and in fact only the bare minimum of an interaction) have caused me to have Complex Feelings.

my grandpa's got cancer. this isn't news, it's just a fact and has been a fact since 2016. Pancreatic cancer that has metastasized outside of his pancreas (specifically in his lungs - it's damn lucky it's slow growing and he's a contrarian by nature). He is no longer doing chemotherapy about it, but he's part of a very small percentage of people who survive more than 6 years with it. so. You know. there's that.

He's doing well, all things considered. Again, it's slow growing cancer, he's somehow lucked out with it. I'll know we're close to the end when he stops wanting to get out in his boat and go fishing. Or stops working on the boat in general. I'm very fortunate to have known all of my grandparents for my whole life so far - even if some of them ended up being major bigots apparently. oh well, when you've got 6 you're allowed a couple duds.

My grandpa and grandma are trying very hard to love me. They've adjusted to the name once i mentioned "hey, literally no one i am still talking to calls me my old name anymore, i know i said it was okay to use in the transition stage but i honestly forget to answer to it, would you mind?" and then they immediately went for the change. they still struggle with my pronouns but like. grandpa's got cancer, i'm not going to fuss at him for using she or her for me (especially during a season where like. i am more girl right now, whether i like it or not lol. it's...complicated). I'll correct grandma later down the line if I gotta but like.

they both just assume i'm one of those Strange Lesbians and like, i'm not not one of those, it's just not what i told them when i came out. so like. it's complicated.

I... cannot get over how much they were emphasizing how happy i sound now. Grandma even mentioned it in her note in the card i got sent for my birthday. I mean it's true, i am very happy up here. I'm happier than i ever have been, in fact. I have never been this well off mentally before.

it sucks a little that they like. didn't understand how very deeply unhappy i was before now. that they have to hear it now, how very different i am when i am excited and enthusiastic and looking forward to an actual future for once.

it sucks a lot that i don't feel comfortable sharing more with them, that i don't feel like i can reach out and request comfort or assurance from them. It sucks a lot that they're not the only ones that I feel like this about in my biofamily.

I didn't know I didn't trust any of them until i found people I do trust. until i found people i know i can rely on when things are bad even if only to be in the bad with me so i'm not alone.

the birthday call and card were both somewhat of a response to my update email - one so that grandma could double check to make sure the address would receive mail so i would get my card, and two so that we could catch up a little.

We didn't discuss my health issues at all. the questions i had about our family's medical history, I didn't get any of that information from them. I could have asked. Should have. Forgot. Could probably call them back and bring it up but...

well. Grandpa's got cancer. I don't want him worrying about my heart. or my bones. or my pain. he doesn't know me that well, after all. it would be an unnecessary burden to him. Especially since all of that information was in my email, and they never actually confirmed they got it, outside of me reminding them that the address was in the email - and then the card got to me.

so they got the email. they have it. they have chosen not to respond with any useful information. Just like my aunt on that side. just like my sister.

just like my mom would have, if i'd sent it to her.

at least i know she comes by it honest.

like. bright sides: money for my birthday hell yeah that's a lot of money to buy weed with (i will likely end up using it for bills mainly, but. still). grandpa's still doing okay (desperate to get back out on the water with his fishin pole) and like. i think we're all in a place mentally where we're just. accepting of the inevitable. which like, not fun, but of the pre-grief options, i'll take it. Grandma sounds like she's doing alright and it's getting warm out so she's going to be able to garden which will help her feel even better probably. i don't have to cut off yet another section of my biofamily at this point, which is always a nice thing to not have to do (i won't lie...they are on thin ice, i'm just... delaying things because, well. grandpa's got cancer. wouldn't you?)

i...am allowed to not deal with people who stress me out and make me anxious, even if their genetics did contribute to my existence (and especially if they didn't) but... well. grandpa's got cancer. and he's always been a bit of a dick. he's actually mellowed out a lot, and well. they stress me out but it's... very different from my mom (their daughter). so. they get to be on the same boat as my aunt (their other daughter) and my sister. i won't do it yet, but. well. i might do in the future. it depends on them.

i hope i don't gotta carve out more of my biofamily in order to have peace. i'd like to keep some blood connection to that side of the family in my circle. i just might need to cast a wider net and involve people i really don't know all that well into it. no time like the present to start building new relationshps with folks, right?

anyway i'll go back to trying hard not to focus on the background planning for what i'm going to have to be ready for when funerals start happening.

[amievenaliveanymore]

i feel like everything in my life is aligning right now in order to make me relapse, like everything that's happening is really pushing me back into my ed,, living alone and being responsible for my own grocery shopping, relatives that always mock my appearance, i need to have control again, i hate my curves and my chest so much, i feel like if they weren't there i wouldn't want to be underweight again. i forgot how much i hate having boobs honestly, they make me feel dirty, i feel so dirty and bloated all the time, i had pancreas issues and the doctors recommended i cut down on fat. been looking at old pictures from when i was much skinnier and i miss it more than i thought i would. i cant believe the scale said 165... i thought recovery meant happiness, but it doesn't mean anything-it just means gaining weight and being more and more uncomfortable. like i don't think im trans ftm, but ive been thinking about it a lot again, how do i tell the difference between ed thoughts and body dysmorphia? im not allowed to be trans ftm, my boyfriend made it very clear he would leave me if i was and my relatives are horrible bigots. i just need to feel comfortable in my body again, i want to have sharp straight lines and a smaller butt and smaller chest, a more sculpted face, i wish i was born i cis man because i know if i try to appear as a man no one will ever accept me and ill be mocked, its not worth it, nothing is worth anything, i need to get back down to my gw to feel okay.

[reincarnatedonthefirst]

A functional medicine doctor I follow and whose podcasts I listen to sometimes did a short interview about the risks of semaglutide/ozempic/wegovy. He said these drugs have risks if taken long-term. He also said that people regain their weight after they stop taking it.

I usually trust this doctor but I wasn't totally convinced that it wasn't okay to at least use it short-term for weight-loss. If I took it for a month or 6 weeks, that wouldn't be long enough to cause serious damage to my pancreas.

However, I am definitely worried about how it will alter my bowel movements in the interim. As you well know, I'm working on restoring balance to my gut flora. I really can't set back all the work I've been doing.

I'm also generally against taking most drugs, even OTC's like Advil/Tylenol/Aspirin. But I'm so desparate to lose this weight that I think it's worth it to take the risk!

But I'm not too happy with is how this drug helps you lose weight. Someone correct me but doesn't it basically make you starve yourself?? The doctor who explained how the drug works (Dr. Mark Hyman, if you're interested), said that the drug slows down your bowels so that you feel more full and it works on your brain so that you don't feel as much hunger.

I'm not against eating less but I don't care for starvation as a weight-loss tactic. Fasting, itself has a lot of benefits in that it gives your cells time to repair and it gives your gut time to cleanse but I normally wouldn't use eating less as a weight-loss tactic. It's not sustainable. That's why I'm disappointed that this is how these type-2 diabetes drugs work for weight-loss. Also, my GI tract is already having difficulty absorbing nutrients so eating less might make me fatigued and mentally sluggish.

But I'm going to try it anyway. I've been living by my own personal conventions for a long time. It's time to throw in something that is personally unconventional...

I guess...

I have a consultation this week. Watch this shit be like $350 per injection. 🙄

[wh6res]

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[azurewoods]

‼️bnha 285 bakugou

yepp it's me again. This chapter wrecked me fr so I need a moment of peace and convince myself that everything is going to be alright

soo this time is about bakugou's injuries, like he took a big hit this time and we have no clue if this will kill him immediately or left him severely injured in the rest of the fight. That's why I decided to research what intestines are going to be affected and how lethal can be.

First I looked out for an illustration of the inner parts of the human body and a picture of bakugou. I tried to place from the manga panel the location of the injuries.

It would be like

(blue circles is where the injury could be)

so, first outcome is that the AfO thingy got through between the liver and stomach (tearing them a bit)

I looked up on internet about liver damage and it said that it depends what percentage of the organ was damaged, e.g it can be calmly treated if it was 15% of damage. But if it was a 75% that's directly lethal for a person.

Also, in the liver circulates a lots of blood so tearing this organ would mean blood loss. It was recommended to stay still and apply pressure to the wound in case the shark object was still through the liver. (bakugou better stay really damn still if he wants to survive).

if we think about it, there's still hope. The thingys went clean through bakugou and it didn't see like a gore festival, so.

And tearing open de stomach would be our point lf concern. The stomach still has unprocessed food and leaking it into the rest of our system would mean a serious infection from a bateria that came from the stomach contents, it has to be treated immediately.

Well, and the resa of the AfO quirk would go through the tiny whole between his liver and stomach

next we got the outcome of the injury being directly at the liver (and even his kidney)

As I mentioned before, liver damage will lead to blood loss or death from blood loss of the injured doesn't stay still and with pressure in the wound. But now we are talking about a hit directly at the organ, it can be fatal but if bakugou is treated ASAP by doctors he might survive.

And the kidney, well you can live without one but is still an important organ so im not really sure

finally, any organ from this zone lmao

organs as the liver, kidneys, pancreas (?) and stomach can be compromised in the attack. I don't think he'll die in the moment, he can be saved. bc at least it wasn't in the heart or the lungs, or his ribs (that could have shattered and compromised other organs.)

honestly my only concern rn is the stomach thing and the fact that there's like an important blood vessel on the shoulder that if you get stabbed you can die from blood loss real quick. (i'm really not sure about that, but correct me of i'm wrong)

but yeah, that would be it guys. All in all, there's hope of bakugou living through the attack, if he knows how take care of himself while he gets to the hospital (i'm referring to not getting himself in an even worse state, not loose too much blood and die, or having lack of self-preservation in that moment, etc).

GUYS I TOTALLY FORGOT OMG AFO USED THAT QUIRK ON ANOTHER VILLAIN IN KAMINO ARC, REMEMBER? when he forced kurogiri to open a portal in his unconscious state. or when he also stabbed the guy with the magnetic force quirk to send shigaraki + company through the portal.

Does that mean that AfO will force bakugou's quirk out of him??

DUDE NOOO that would end me fr and that also would mean that all my research is going to trash bc if AfO is gonna use him then he'll get bakugou in a worse state of health or even kill him.

I mean, there's always the possibility that AfO will just drop him, like he did with endeavor but in this case he was going for deku. maybe trying to hurt him, force his quirk... idk i just want them to be okay

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

House, M.D. Fanfic (7/?)

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to leave a note on my story. I hope you continue to enjoy my kind of rewrite and/or additions to certain episodes! As always, I don't own House. If I did, Lisa Edelstein would have gotten the respect she deserved contact wise for a season 8.

As stated in previous chapters, the story follows the big picture laid out on the show, but with my own take on things. This chapter picks back up with the show storyline in the beginning of season 3. I did use a bit of dialogue from the episode, but I definitely added and rewrote some stuff too. I also left out all the medical dialogue House spouted off at Cuddy's bedroom window because I'm not a medical professional and had no idea how to spell it or write it, lol.

Thanks to @love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie on Tumblr for reading my ideas and providing positive feedback! Anything in the way of feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

xxxxx

"Did you really ask out Dr. Cameron?" Cuddy asked when he stepped into her office.

"Would you have a problem if I did?"

She just looked at him incredulously. Was he serious? "Why would you think I would be okay with that?!"

"Why wouldn't you be?" he shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're already sleeping with me!" she hissed, careful to keep her voice down. The last thing she wanted was for anyone at the hospital to hear that they actually were sleeping together. She knew they were always fodder for the rumor mill, but she wasn't about to confirm it for them.

"Threesomes are sexy. And a lot of fun. You'd like it," he smirked, heading for the door since he figured that was all this conversation was about.

"House!"

"Relax. I asked her out to make a point. I'm not interested in sleeping with anyone else," he said opening the door.

"What if she'd said yes?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't have gone. You are a slave driver in the bedroom. You think I have time or energy for another one?" He grinned smugly before leaving.

xxxxx

"I can help him."

"That's it? That's your argument?"

"Seems like a good one." Why was helping someone suddenly not a good enough reason for Cuddy? Or Wilson? Or anyone else?

"If I thought for a second that you wanted to help him, you'd have carte blanche. You're doing this because it's...fun."

"Does nobody in this hospital have anything better to talk about than my motives? My motives have nothing to do with the case."

"Your motives have everything to do with your judgement."

"For the first time in years, I've got no opiods in my body, now you question my judgement? Is this still about asking Cameron out? Because I told you, that was to prove a point. Right now, jealousy has everything to do with your judgement."

"I'm not jealous of Cameron! House, 24 times a year you come storming into my office spouting that you can help someone, only you never say those words. You say something like, 'His pancreas is going to explode because his brain is on fire.' You come here with medicine, not with platitudes."

"I didn't want to bore you with the details."

"There are no details. You have a hunch. House, you don't use hunches. You always have reasons. This hospital doesn't exist for your whims. I'm sorry. As of 7AM tomorrow morning, I'm sending your patient home."

"I can help him!" he insisted.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't think you can. Because I don't think anything new is wrong with him. This is just you trying to make a puzzle out of something that isn't there."

He felt like he'd just been sucker punched in the gut. She didn't trust him on the medicine. She had never doubted him before. Sure, she'd said no plenty of times to procedures that were... questionable... she had argued with him when she didn't always agree with him. She'd never outright doubted him. That stung. And he couldn't help but wonder if the lack of pain in his leg, the lack of Vicodin in his system had caused him to see something that wasn't there.

xxxxx

"So yeah, his brain is on fire." He stood outside her bedroom window like a teenage boy hoping to sneak in.

She shook her head as she got him a towel, handing out to him once he climbed inside. "Next time use the front door."

"The guy will have sex with his wife again. He'll hug his kid again." He took the towel and began to wipe his face and neck.

"House, you have no proof. No scar tissue on the scans. This is some wild theory that came to you while sweating and running into the university pool."

"Fountain. And it all fits. Just inject him with cortisol. There is no risk if I'm wrong." He studied her reaction and knew she wasn't biting. "You're smiling. That's a bad sign."

She nodded. "You're high."

"I told you, I haven't had anything in three months. You've been with me most of that time. You know I haven't taken anything."

"This is as high as you get. A theory that ties your case up in a neat little bow, but you don't have a lick of substantiating proof."

"Your decision doesn't make any sense," he said, clearly frustrated. "There is no risk to a cortisol injection. If I'm wrong, big deal. He goes home a vegetable, like he already is. But if I'm right..."

"This is not about downsides or risk management. It is a big deal for you to understand the word no." She sighed softly. "I'm sorry, House."

He breathed deeply and released it slowly, moving to sit on her bed and toss his towel beside him. She frustrated him to no end, but she was right. He wouldn't admit it to her right then, but as his boss, she was right to tell him no. He really had nothing to go on. No medical reason other than it fit. He couldn't do this, couldn't be the great doctor he had been without the leg pain.

She moved to sit next to him, placing a hand lightly on his back. "Do you want to talk?" she offered.

"No."

"Do you want to stay?"

He thought about it for a moment. He didn't have his bike, and he didn't really feel like running home. "Yeah, it's late."

"You don't say," she offered a small smile, picking up the towel and dropping it into his lap. "Go shower and dry off. You're getting my bed wet. And you smell like a locker room." She gave him a gentle shove to his feet then.

He took his time on the shower, both cooling off and working through everything on his head. Did he really need the pain to be great at his job? Was he really so far off base that she didn't trust his ability anymore?

She was half asleep when he came out of her bathroom with a towel around his waist. "You've got some clothes in the top drawer," she murmured. "I washed the ones you left here, " she added, seemingly answering his question before he could even ask it.

He simply nodded and pulled them on, leaving his wet towel on the floor.

"If you want to get in this bed, the towel goes back in the bathroom." She didn't even have to open her eyes to see the towel on the floor.

He just looked at her for a moment before picking it up and tossing it toward the bathroom.

"In the hamper, House," she murmured.

Once again he just stared at her a moment. How the hell did she know without even opening her eyes? "The force is strong with you," he murmured, going to put the towel in the hamper so she would let him in bed.

[seluvian]

I've gotten to the point where I'm very uncomfortable with weight talk. I honestly hate listening to people talk about their weight because these conversations are almost entirely negative, and I'm the fattest person I know.

Thing is, when my thinner friends beat themselves up about their weight in front of me, I'm not sure what they want me to say. Yeah you're gross and I'm truly monstrous? No you're not fat, look how thin you are next to me! Like... stop. I don't want to hear it.

I don't want to be part of someone's destructive cycle. Because that's all it is. It's feeding into the cycle of guilt, restriction, and punishment that I'm still freeing myself from, and I refuse to be dragged back into hating myself. My roommate mentioned a few days ago that she's 20 pounds lighter than she was last year. I didn't know what to say so I just said 'okay'.

Immediately I started thinking about how nice it must have been for an already thin person to lose weight so easily, to be able to wear such beautiful clothes, to take simple pictures that get tons of compliments and likes, to have no one question how healthy she is, how well she lives her life. How lucky she is to fit society's standards so well.

But then I reminded myself that this girl eats one small meal per day, maybe. If that. That she refuses to buy any drink without 'diet' or 'zero calorie' because she doesn't want to gain weight. I remember the way she gripped and pulled the loose skin of her stomach with harsh hands, daring me to tell her it wasn't disgusting. I remember how she changes into outfit after outfit after outfit before going out, trying to find something that makes her shape more appealing to her. I remember how she takes health tips from the women she follows on Instagram, who no doubt have similar self hate routines.

My heart breaks for her. But at the same time, it hardens against her. Because no matter how much I tell her about the statistics of deliberate weight loss being impermanent and unhealthy, about the self hatred and extreme restrictive routines being dangerous, about how much I'm trying to reject those thoughts and behaviors and love my fat body, she refuses to hear it. She insists on weight talk and self bashing, and doesn't respect my peace of mind any more than she respects her own.

I have to protect myself against her and people like her. I'm not getting dragged back into the dieting and calorie counting and revulsion at looking into the mirror. I'm not going back to the giddy feeling of euphoria at realizing I hadn't eaten all day, wondering how long I could stretch that before I had so little energy all I could do was sleep. I'm not going back to being congratulated for losing so much weight so fast that my organs started to freak out and I had to go to the hospital for surgery, where the doctor assured me that removing my panicking gall bladder would ensure that I could lose as much weight as I liked with no problem, even as he acknowledged that the weight loss was what triggered the problems in my pancreas, gall bladder, and liver. I'm not going to let a therapist tell me it's okay that I feel compelled not to eat sometimes, don't allow myself to eat or drink until an arbitrary task or time has passed. That it's just fasting, and it's really not harmful. I'm done.

I'm fat. And I'm most likely going to be fat for the rest of my life. That's fine. That's okay. And fuck anyone in this world who tries to tell me it's not, even if their method of doing so is to bash themselves in front of me. Fuck that. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being fat.

[justbeingl]

Hi! I'm L,I'm 28 years old,I live with my family, my fiance and my 2 dogs who are my life. I enjoy spending time with people I love I like swimming taking my dogs on walks browsing the shops doing puzzles and watching TV. I also live with type 1 diabetes. Type one is when your pancreas shuts down and doesn't produce what you need to combat sugar naturally so you must keep checking your bloods and take insulin and try to live as healthy lifestyle as you can you are still allowed to eat sugar! ( Common misconception agmonst non diabetics) I guess that's what this is about I'm not here to give anyone advice believe me I've had my ups and downs (although today I had my appointment with my doctor and he says I'm doing well yay!) But I'll admit for the last year I've struggled and although my family and friends are amazing even they don't understand totally about living life with diabetes and I mean how could they? It's not easy physically and mentally it is overwhelming and that's okay! We power through. I've had t1d since I was 10 I remember the day I was diagnosed I hadn't been well for a while I was thirsty,tired and just feeling ill then one day at school I took a turn I had awful stomach pain so they called my mom to come and get me. She took me to the doctor and he checked me over and told my mom he thought it was diabetes and I needed to go to the hospital I looked at my mom like what's that? And so begins the last 18 years of my life and for the most part I handled it well except when others tried to get involved I can't be the only one that gets annoyed? Especially the why are you so high? Why aren't you handling it? The past 2 years have been especially hard I've physically (wow my readings!) And mentally during the first lockdown I started having dizzy spells at first we thought it was stress (I have been known to stress over anything although not as bad anymore!) But they continued even when life got back to semi normal (will it ever be normal again) infact they got worse I was having falls and if I'm honest just feeling crappy. I found lucozade helped even when I wasn't hypo ( I know bad L!) I've had so many comments and believe me nobody was more disappointed in me more than myself I felt so guilty that my readings were out of control but the dizziness was taking over my life still is to be honest I've had test after test MRIs heart monitors alot of tests and at the moment they can't work out what it is it's frustrating it really is! Nobody really knows what anyone's going through Ive had stern words with my doctor about my readings and sometimes I feel like all people care about is my bloods (my sane side knows that's not true) and I've tried no, I am trying to keep off sugary drinks and I think I'm doing ok (I'm trying my hardest!) If today's anything to go by I must be doing something right! So I thought I'd start this blog just to talk cough* vent! If you read this blog whether you have diabetes or don't I hope this helps you feel less alone or just understand.

[harleyhart]

Okay, so I was just gonna suggest he wear one of Starfire's costumes since those have a pretty good amount of sun-to-skin exposure, but now I'm just hung up on the kryptonian anatomy part. Like- if he (hypothetically) doesn't have an asshole, who's to say he wouldn't be missing other shit? do Kryptonians have gallbladders? or wisdom teeth? what if he doesn't have a pancreas?

(also the image of Superman just vomiting up all his food reminds me of attack on titan, so now you need to be reminded of attack on titan)

Why doesn’t Superman fight naked? Who’s going to actually stop him? Who has the ability to stop him? Who’s willing to try and stop him when he’s saving the world constantly?

Pro: You get an almost god like being protecting your planet

Con: you gotta see some dick and balls flap around in the wind somethings. Maybe you’ll even see his asshole in rare cases

My point is Clark could totally get away with it and achieve maximum sun exposure

[nekonome-lilyith]

Story time 1

Warning for suicide and self harm

Okay, so I'm a type one diabetic. Have been since I was 10. This means my pancreas doesn't work and I have to take insulin. Keep in mind type one is different from type two or any other type, and thus are treated differently and mean different things.

Anyways, back when I was 12 my grandma took me out of town to visit my uncle & his girlfriend (who he is now married to). Well my Aunt, her husband, and her two children came along to for some reason. Off the bat that made me uncomfortable to hear, since I have never liked my aunt, but I was excited to see my uncle so I didn't say anything.

We stayed fir three days total, and in those theee days I ate a candy bar, a bag if chips, and like 2 slices of pizza. It wasn't much, which even at the time I understood, but it's because I was in an environment I didn't know much about and stressed 24/7. Plus I was going through a bout of depression then where I struggled with self harm (that struggle was the only time I ever cut, and even then it terrified me bc my best friend nearly died cutting) and it was boosted a bit because I couldn't go swimming, something i LOVED but very rarely got to do, since I was on my period.

Anyway my aunt had been nagging me a lot, getting onto me for the little I was eating and how much I was on my laptop. It lead to a few breakdowns in the bathroom. When I was eating my candybar (which my uncles gf got for me to cheer my up) she took it for me and refused to give it back until my grandma made her, and this is with me telling her I had covered for and without it I could go low. If you don't know what that means it means my blood sugars would drop and that can very literally kill me. Even her husband was on her side, and he was nearly worse than her because he has some variant of diabetes so he thought he knew EVERYTHING about how I should be treating myself.

Which, he didn't, if you didn't get the memo

Now when we were leaving town to go back home I was a bit sad but it was quickly dropped for the happy feelings when I realized it ment I didn't have to deal with my aunt. Then we stopped at some breakfsst place and I saw my aunt drive up with her two angels & shitty husband. I gave my grandma a look of "Why" but she sorts just told me to deal with it bc I could go back to avoiding her after this.

Well were eating and the food comes out, being hungry and feeling sorts good about myself I ordered chocolate chip pancakes. Checked my sugar and it was above three hundred, well my grandma gives me my shot and I go eating. Everything was fine until I was about halfway through my pancakes.

Husband asks what my sugars were at, not suspecting anything I answer truthfully. He gives me this look and I sorta shrink in a bit. Then he and my aunt start going off about how I should be taking more insulin, and that I should be eating less carbs (Note, the pancakes were acctully under my "carb maximum") and eating smaller meals more often. Just on and on spewing shit they don't understand, like holy fuck it made me sick because nothing they were saying was true in the way they ment it. It was causing me to shut down and mentality breakdown, if I could have left I would have because the only reason I wasn't crying is bc I didn't want to make a scene + I was relapsing under the table. (I harmed by scratching myself, and let me tell you it wasn't fun).

Here comes the kicker though, they tell me this.

"You should be taking at least 40 units of insulin with each meal." And go on with this, her husband joining in saying that's how much he took if not more. That's not really important though. What is?

My aunt just told a suicidal 12-year-old to overdose.

For reference, even if I was eating a 60 carb meal and my sugars were above 400 I only took 9 units. To date the most I've taken is 15 units.

So, at this point I complete shut off. I stop eating, I stoo eating, hell I stop even trying to get a word in. For the rest if the meal I just sat there staring at the tablecloth or reading on my phone. At some point my grandma asked if I was okay (she sorts knew what them saying that ment) but I brushed her off.

Flashfoward a few days, I'm back home and a fucking mess. The only thing I could think if is what my aunt said, and when I tried to talk to my best friend about I was feeling "down" she brushed me off and changed the topic to her latest boyfriend (that or her roleplay). Fucked up part was that she KNEW I was self harming at the time (it's not like you can cover up giant scratches with ease, and they don't heal quickly either) and still didn't really care, ironic thing is that this is the girl who came to me in a panic because she thought she cut to deep (yes, the one who nearly died).

So I tried to overdose, I got my insulin and took a shit-ton. Not real sure how much, I just sorta stabbed my thigh and cranked it up really high twice to be sure.

And let me tell you, if my mom didn't walk in right when it was starting to hit I would likely be dead right now. I didn't tell her exactly what happened until years later, but she manged to save my life without thinking much of it. To her I just had a real stubborn low, something that wasn't unusual.

Thing was is that wasn't my last attempt, it wasn't my first either. Overdosing is a bitch, let me tell you.

So yeah, that's my first storytime. Sad as shit but suddenly this all came to me and it's been lingering hard so Inhad to share it with someone.

TLDR; My aunt essentially told 12-year-old me to overdose, I did a few days later and my mom unknowingly saved my life.