#if i pray here will i get my medical degree faster

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH132

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 132: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XXII)

To be or not to be?

This is really a simple choice.

But at that moment, this choice was extremely difficult.

Qi Leren slowly closed his eyes. He couldn't reveal his emotions. At this moment, his heart was beating so fast that an emotion that could be called ecstasy surged in his mind.

He had a great opportunity.

Originally he didn't even have one in ten thousand possibilities, but now, he did.

He needed acting ability, 200% acting ability, just like when he played Red.

Qi Leren took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.

Those brown eyes revealed the human struggle. He moved his lips, as if he wanted to question Su He about why he did this, but in the end the bitter accusations all turned into a trembling in his eyes. His eyes, his expression, and his shaking fingertips were filled with the desire to live.

For a moment, Su He almost thought he was going to give in, but he shivered suddenly, took a step back, and looked at the closed stone door. He seemed ashamed of his weak will, so he wanted to look in the direction he had come, wanted to escape and ask for help, but he knew that he couldn’t escape his fate. Finally, he only turned around in despair, shame, and helplessness, and looked at Su He again.

They stared at each other for a long time. The Devil's scarlet eyes were only interested in observing the human, while the observed humans had too many emotions, from resistance to struggle, from hesitation to compromise, and finally it turned into deep despair and he began to cry.

Those beautiful brown eyes closed, and when they opened again there was only an empty desire to live.

The Devil smiled and looked at him with encouragement, but he stopped looking at the Devil. He was still suffering for his weakness, so he didn't dare to look at him.

Trembling, he took the first step towards his journey.

Descent begins with this small step.

After this step, there was numbness, compromise, and submission.

He had come to the Devil King, quietly looking at the goblet filled with the Devil’s blood in his hand. If he drank this cup of the Devil's blood he could gain great power, but at the same time would degenerate into a demon.

The human being lured by the Devil King took the goblet with both hands. The blood in the goblet was like wine. He stared at the red liquid his Adam's apple rolled.

The Devil smiled.

The goblet tilted, the glass pressed on his lips, and the bright red liquid was about to catch his lips, but another transparent liquid rolled down from his eyes first. The humble man’s brown eyes gazed at the Devil, wept silently, and silently swallowed the temptation from hell.

The moment the blood flowed into his mouth, the transformation had already started. His brown eyes became scarlet and the devil sigil climbed over his cheek from his earlobe, leaving a thorn-like mark. Black wings sprouted from his back and pierced his clothes. They were as beautiful as a black swan’s, like an angel who had fallen from heaven.

The new demon held the empty goblet in his hand and his blood-red lips parted slightly, looking at his master.

"You look like an naive and innocent lover, beautiful but so enjoyable to see destroyed." The Devil King leaned down, kissed the forehead of his beloved demon in reward, and whispered softly, "From today on, your name is 'Depravity'."

The devil's blood slipped from the new "fallen’s" lips, and the viscous scarlet liquid flowed down his chin and fell to the earth.

At the moment when the blood fell to the ground, a violent explosion engulfed the two people who stood opposite each other, and they vanished in an instant.

　　&&&

In the scenes where reality and illusion were interweaved, countless illusions passed by the two people pitted in combat -  demons crawling in the lava of hell growled, blazing angels falling from heaven prayed, and the holy light and the demonic energy intertwined together, overturning large areas of trees and even distorting this space, making the two people fighting seem to be in another time and space.

The land under the Witch of Jealousy's feet had turned into a burning hell where countless demons hatched from evil and were shot through by the unreal blazing angels one by one. The witch looked at Ning Zhou with red eyes hidden behind he black veiled hat, with a smile on her mouth: "Are you in a hurry? Are you worried? Is it for Qi Leren? I remember him. He gave me my sister's things in the underground palace. He is really a kind and good man. I should thank him..."

"He has a pair of beautiful eyes, brown, but my Lord thinks red eyes are more suitable for him." The Witch of Jealousy’s scarlet eyes flashed, maliciousness pouring out from her painted red lips, "As long as they drink the blood given by my Lord, ordinary human beings can easily become demons just like me and get unimaginable power. You see, you’ve been studying hard in the Holy See for so many years, but I’m tied with you. No one can refuse the temptation of strength, no one.

"He’s going to betray you, poor knight, he’s going to betray you!" The witch laughed madly, shrill laughter with hysteria.

Ning Zhou, who was intercepted by another demon, waved off the giant demon and landed lightly on a rock in the hellish lava. He said coldly to the witch, "You’re jealous."

The witch's laughter came to an abrupt end and the smile that died on her mouth slowly turned into anger: "What do you know?"

At this moment, the Witch of Jealousy perfectly interpreted the appearance of jealousy. She stepped forward on the lava and said sharply in a distorted voice: "You don't know anything! I was so careful, so I walked on the edge of the cliff with every step and climbed out of hell little by little, just to see him again. I tried my best to reach what I am today, but it happened that some people are so lucky that they could easily ascend to heaven. He likes him, praises him, seduces him... Why, why is my Lord so fond of him?!”

The witch's anger triggered the illusion of hell and the lava turned into flames and shot at Ning Zhou. The two knives in Ning Zhou's hands crossed and he stood in front of her, but he rushed past regardless - the magma was split by holy light and his sharp knives passed through the furious lava and appeared in front of Isabel.

The angry witch smiled grimly and raised her sword to stab him.

The angels and demons in the false image collided together and a magnificent disillusionment broke out from them.

Suddenly the boiling magma died down, the shaking earth died down, and even the surging night wind died down.

Among the hills where the Vatican was located, there were only sacred songs and music coming as if from nowhere under the bright starry sky, compassionate and holy.

Blood flowed down the tip of the thin sword, trickling into the fertile soil, and the two people who were so close that there was almost no distance between them stood motionless, then suddenly separated.

The thin sword had pierced Ning Zhou's abdomen, but the short knives had penetrated the witch's chest.

More and more blood flowed down.

Isabel's black veiled hat had fallen to the ground, revealing her dim scarlet eyes. Covering her chest, blood streaming through her fingertips from her beating heart.

She seemed shocked, but the surprise gradually turned into self-mockery and loneliness. A gust of wind blew and she slowly fell down, looking at the night sky with her eyes empty.

"It's too late..." the Witch of Jealousy murmured. "Even if you go there, it's too late. He doesn't belong to you... You’ve lost him..."

Ning Zhou stepped forward and came to her. Blood flowed out from his abdominal wound, but he didn't feel it.

Blood was trickling from Isabel’s mouth. She looked him in the eye and asked dreamily, "Do you know the taste of jealousy?"

The bloody knife hung over her head, and the blood trickled down the blade and fell on her forehead.

The witch looked into his eyes and showed an understanding smile: "Ah, that’s the taste."

The knife fell and pierced the witch's head, and her demon crystal was broken in the holy light.

The demons condensed from rocks disintegrated, and the illusion of the dying demons screamed silently and dissipated in the night sky. The space dominated by the witch was gradually restored to be in line with reality. The ghostly angels stayed in the void for a while, bowed to the broken church on the top of the hill, and then disappeared into the night of the new moon.

Ning Zhou coughed softly, but the movement of the lungs disturbed his abdominal wound, making the blood flow faster. He leaned partially against a half-fallen tree, took a deep breath, and bandaged himself with a straight face.

After only doing the simplest medical treatment, and even having no time to clean up the demon energy that had infected his body through the wound, Ning Zhou hastily put on his clothes and ran towards the church on the top of the hill.

White gauze was quickly dyed red, but Ning Zhou’s training had accustomed him to being injured and he numbly adapted to this degree of pain. He had to go quickly, quickly…

There was an earth-shattering noise and the church on the top of the hill began crumbling.

Ningzhou's footsteps stopped, and his heartbeat seemed to stop with the explosion.

As his chest stuttered, blood gas rolled up from the depths of the throat and Ning Zhou spat out one mouthful of stagnated blood. The pain that he should have been used to was overpowered by the feeling of his heart breaking. He wiped the blood from his mouth, dyeing the silver cross embroidery on his gloves red with blood.

God, if I am guilty, please let all the harsh punishments come on me, even if I have to pay for it in hell for all eternity.

Please, bless him and let him be safe.

-----

The author has something to say:

Although the author thinks that the plot is quite clear, there are still many girls who don't understand it. Simply put: Su He is the Devil of Fraud, male (three years ago, he appeared in the appearance of a woman during the Witchcraft Sacrifice). His status has changed from before, but he was originally a player. There are witches and demons like Isabel under his hand, and there will be other devils/witches acting under others outside. The master of the Witch of Nightmares (the little girl who was like Maria) is not the Devil of Fraud, but the old Devil.

The Nightmare World is equivalent to another real alien world. It is not surprising for either NPCs or human beings to become Devil Kings. For example, it is also possible for someone to aspire to the Holy See and become the Pope after decades of hard work (provided that they are not dead).

At the same level as Su He, there are also the Devil King of Power and the Devil King of Slaughter. The relationship between these three people is not peaceful, and we will talk about it later; It was not them who were killed by Maria, Ning Zhou's mother. It was the old Devil who led the demons to invade the underworld for the first time more than 20 years ago. After he died, it was peaceful for more than 10 years. Three years ago, the text began, and three new Devil Kings led the demons to invade the human world for the second time.

Is it clear =v=

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Editor’s Notes: To take this opportunity to clear some things up a bit more, so far “Devil”, “Devil King”, and occasionally “Lord” have been used interchangably, though some devils who are of lower rank will appear in part 2. So among the Devil Kings we have the Devil of Fraud aka Su He, the Devil of Slaughter who was worshipped by the secret society in the previous arc, and the Devil of Power who has yet to appear in any notable capacity. All three of them are currently at the same level but are vying for supremacy, which was why Su He wanted the old Devil’s demon crystal. I would like to also clarify that despite being called Kings, not all of them are men.

Details about the old Devil will become much more clear in part 2, but for now all you need to know is that he was the former supreme ruler of the demons who was killed by Maria. :)

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[unholyhelbig]

Bechloe Apocalypse AU? I know it's been done before, but damn, do I love a good trope.

[A/N: This prompt has been in my inbox for a long time and I’m just now getting to it. But the main idea is from @auideas] 

Read on AO3 | Request Prompts here 

Beca was always the first to stir in the morning. It wasn’t by the light that streamed through the blinds, but her own biological clock that did it. A seven am on the dot, she would wake and stretch and feel her fingers met with the cold of the house. The blinds were drawn and a little slit of yellow, or sometimes gray depending on the weather, mapped itself on the wooden floor.

They hadn’t done much to the old Victorian manor at the edge of town. It came furnished and the only thing they bothered changing was the sheets on the four-post bed and the towels in the closet. They smelled so thickly of must that Beca made the begrudging trip into town for supplies.

Beca would pad down to the kitchen on the creaky wooden stairs and flicked on the coffee maker. She reveled in the darkness, in the cool relief from the South Carolina air. They kept the central unit on high and thick curtains over nearly every pane of glass in the house.

Chloe would stir an hour after her wife.

Maybe it was the absence of heat or her own lungs filling with dark roast. She followed the scent and grasped at the paper set on the kitchen table. She would skip to the sports section first but would always return to the front page for whatever story they deemed import enough.

“Ah, a firefighter with a cat.” She creased the paper “Charming and quaint.”

Beca grunted as she stood on her toes to grasp two mugs. They also came with the house, covered in dust until she scrubbed them. A cartoonish illustration of teddy bears dawned the front and she couldn’t bring herself to read the cheesy sayings past their first week in the Victorian.

She didn’t’ want to get to know the people in town. It was small enough that she got questioning stares from the gas station clerk whenever they ran out of allergy medication or on the rare occasion, milk. He bit his tongue but studied her face. Doveport South Carolina. Not even on the map.

Chloe figured that this is where people went to disappear. Not when they had fresh blood on their palms and dirt under their nails, but when the dust had settled, and they needed a place to ride out the storm. People lived on boats and deep in the swampy woods. They bought foreclosed homes with cash. They barely went outside, and hell- the air was too stiff.

“Did he pull it from a tree?” Beca asked.

“A storm drain, actually,” Chloe said.

The shorter of the two set down a steaming cup in front of her wife. It was loaded with French vanilla creamer and too much sugar for Beca to stomach. She swallowed two gulps of black coffee and cupped her hands around it to keep in the warmth. The house had to be cold. Though, her nose suffered the most from the stark temperature.

Chloe hummed into the steam rising from her drink “Coleman is supposed to drop of the sample today.”

“Coleman is s douche.”

“A douche with a sample. And besides, he won’t even come into the house. The light is too much for anyone to handle, much less the test slides. He’ll drop it by the greenhouse and be on his way.”

“I don’t even want him in my vicinity, Chlo. His male testosterone permeates the air.”

Chloe didn’t’ dignify Beca’s dramatics with a response. It reminded her of the days when she would run around on playgrounds, crunching over mulch and trying to get away from the boys with cooties. But then she had become a biochemist and even well before that, knew that that’s not how things spread.

Not cooties anyway. Maybe the flu or a common cold, but the only thing men were good for in this century was transporting what they needed. People in Doveport never gave a man a second look. Not when they dawned a hat and had grease on their hands. They wouldn’t question his duffel bag or the scent of gunpowder.

Beca went to take another sip of her coffee but stopped mid gulp when the familiar hum of the central cooling system sputtered to a stop. They had grown so used to the noise and the icy atmosphere. She exchanged a worried look with her wife and lowered the cup. “Well shit.”

“Was it supposed to storm today?”

“No. I checked.” Beca tapped the paper absently before pulling herself from the kitchen table. They didn’t’ have much time before their backup generators would kick on. But those hadn’t either. Not yet. Why hadn’t they? Fuck.

Chloe must have had the same thought. Worry crossed her features before she padded across the kitchen and pulled the door to the basement open. She creaked down the steps and was instantly overwhelmed by the heat that had already begun to fill the sod-coated room.

There weren’t basements in the south. Not usually but they had chosen the old Victorian because it had one in the first place. She walked towards the line of tables that were usually lit by a bluish-purple light. Those had gone off too.

In the stumbling darkness she grasped the samples carefully and placed them in the large freezer under the stairs. The ice that incrusted it wouldn’t’ last long but hopefully this power outage wouldn’t either.  She sealed it. She prayed about it too but wouldn’t’ let Beca know about that.

Science was magic and magic was science and religion fell somewhere in between but it eased her mind to speak to a higher power regardless.

“Chlo! I think you should see this!”

She didn’t waste any time sprinting up the slotted stairs and leaving the musty basement behind. Sweat had formed against her cheeks and made her skin tight when it hit whatever cold air was left in the nearly empty living room. Beca had peeled the blackout curtain back and the light stung her eyes.

“You opened the window?” Chloe asked.

“I was curious.” Beca Said.

Chloe sighed and squeezed close to her partner before she herself pulled back the dark cloth just an inch. Her heart rushes faster and there was a heat leaking through the windows. She hated the south and the lack of silence that it held onto.

It was the same street that she saw once or twice a month when she ventured from the house. There was another house across the way that had been empty since they arrived. There was a cop that lived next door and a nice family adjacent to them. But right now- there was blood.

The patrol car that usually sat in the driveway was turned on its side and a mass of guts and blood and teeth stirred in the front driveway. She saw fingers flick and smelled fire, or gas, or a mix of both. It made her throat burn.

A stranger, a man in fishing waders had half of his face missing and a dead look behind his yellowed eyes. He limped and groaned tepidly, continuing like he was going on a stroll. His jaw swung back and forth as a clock and Chloe grimaced.

“Well damn.” She let the curtain fall, “This is bullshit we were so close.”

“I know, but someone else was closer.”

Beca walked back towards the kitchen and grasped her now chilled cup of coffee. She finished it off and grabbed the newspaper, looking at the smiling face of the firefighter with a burnt-looking cat in his arms. It was filthy and its fur was matted. She frowned and placed it back on the table.

“Damn government funding. If I could have just gotten my hands on the Amscope.” She grimaced “we’re going to buy you a whole house but you can use a magnifying glass to create a zombie virus.”

“The institution is counting on you, Miss Mitchell.” Chloe mocked.

“Doctor Mitchell, I swear, they always forget that part. You know what we can’t forget? The nine years of our life that we spent getting degrees in science and then another three years held up in this place creating a bioweapon that we didn’t even get to release.”

Chloe lifted her eyebrows and leaned against the adjacent kitchen wall. She had to admit, it was a little disappointing. A letdown after all of this time. But she felt a bit of relief well up inside of her. They would send an extraction team for them at some point and then maybe they would be directed to create a cure. Maybe.

“I think we should get a cat,” Chloe said, picking up the paper and wiggling it towards her wife. “Look at his cute little face.”

“Mm, before or after the apocalypse?” Beca asked.

“During, probably,” Chloe said. “I’d consider a dog.”  

[nastybuckybarnes]

Sinners and Saints  -  18+

Pairing: Bucky X Innocent!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who enjoys the art of sinning. You’re a good church girl who obeys her parents. When he decides he wants you, he’s going to have you.

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap, Language,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Tomorrow we’re doing dirty drabbles. I’m excited. I also have a week and a half off of work so woot woot.

EDITED POORLY

~*~

Bucky Barnes is going to Hell.

That much, he knows for sure.

He’s a man who loves sinning far too much and when the time comes, he’s got a first-class ticket to the burning world below.

That being said, he doesn't want to go down there for some stupid reason. So, he’s made it his goal to sin as much as he can in this life.

And he has his eye trained on his next one.

You sit prim and proper beside your mother, head bowed slightly as you listen to his brother drone on and on about the power of the lord. 

The purest of them all, never to dream of sin. And yet you walk around in skirts that blow with the wind, shirts that show your bust, and a smile on your face that could easily make the pope give in to Sin.

“Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord and one another.” He snaps back to the present as people start standing up, his eyes finding yours. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and he winks at you, smiling as you giggle into your hand.

People come up to his brother and talk and talk and talk. He tries to hide the bored look on his face. But when he catches a glimpse of your amazing legs beneath your skirt, lining up with your mother to talk to the Priest, he smiles widely.

Standing up and smoothing his clothes, he walks over to the two of you.

“Good morning, ma’am, and God Bless.” The words taste bitter on his tongue.

“Good morning, James. How are you today?” Your mother asks, smiling at the man. “I’m well, thank you. How are you?” She sighs and shakes her head. “Our neighbour Peter is sick again. His aunt is very busy with work and she asked me to help take care of him. Now that I’m doing that I haven’t had time to do any of our usual chores.”

Opportunity slaps Bucky across the face.

“Well ma’am, I don’t want to impose, but I could help you? I’m quite the handyman.” His eyes flash to yours and you bite your lip nervously, fingers toying with a loose string on your Cardigan.

“Oh, James! I couldn’t possibly ask that of you!” He shakes his head and smiles brightly at your mother. “It’s no problem, really. I may have overheard your husband talking about hiring someone to fix a few things around the house. I could do it free of charge. And I assure you, I’m quite good with my hands.” His eyes flame as he stares at you while saying those last words. You shift nervously, heat growing in your belly.

“Well, if you insist. Come by our house after you’re finished here and I’ll get you all set up. And before you say anything, we’re most definitely going to be paying you for your services.” He smiles, the thought of getting closer to you more than enough to have him working whatever job she wants him too.

“I’ll see you then, Mrs. (Y/l/n). (Y/n).” He nods at you and you clench your hands into fists, arousal pooling in your panties.

“James.” He walks away feeling accomplished and horny and absolutely ready to catch a glimpse of what’s hiding beneath that cute skirt.

~

“Honey? James is here. He’s going to be working on a few chores around the house while I do some work. Alright? Please don’t get in his way.” You nod and watch from the top of the stairs as he walks into your home.

“Afternoon, (Y/n).” He greets you with that panty-dropping smile and you have to divert your thoughts to mass earlier to prevent anything sinful from entering your mind.

“Afternoon, James.” He watches as you spin around the head back to your room, giving him a clear view of your sky blue panties.

He takes a deep breath then turns away from the stairs and gets to work, wanting to actually help your mother while also gaining her trust.

~

“Would you care to stay for dinner, James?” Your father asks, very pleased with all the work the young man has done around your house.

“Well...” Your mother pops her head into the room and gives James a stern look. “I’ve made more than enough for you, James. And we don’t want it going to waste, do we?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, ma’am.”

You watch from where you’re setting the table as your father gives James a list of things to do around the house over the next few weeks.

“They’ve been laying people off at work. And thankfully it hasn’t been me, but that means I’ve gotta pick up the slack and work extra hours.” James nods understandingly, his eyes flickering to you for a moment before returning to the man in front of you.

“(Y/n) does online courses and will be home every day. She’ll let you in and fix you something to eat or drink. All you’ve gotta do is ask. Our home is your home.”

You look down at the cutlery before walking over to your mother. “Is there anything else you need help with?” You ask, smiling as she kisses your forehead.

“Nothing, dear. You can go sit down.” You do as she says and sit down, nervously avoiding everyone’s eyes as James sits next to you. He’s so close that you can smell him. And he smells delicious.

“(Y/n), would you like to say Grace?” Your mother asks, smiling encouragingly at you.

You take James’ hand and your mothers, hoping they can’t feel them trembling.

“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

“Amen,” everyone whispers. You let go of their hands and discretely wipe your palms on your skirt.

“So James, you’re in college?” James takes a forkful of food, chews carefully, then swallows before answering.

“No, Sir. Graduated two years ago with a Ph.D.” Your mother raises her eyebrows, impressed. “How old are you again, James?” “Twenty-nine this March.” She nods and looks over at you.

“(Y/n) will be twenty this year. She’s excelling in her studies and is pursuing a medical degree.” You smile bashfully and continue eating.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck with your studies, although I’m sure you won’t need it.” You thank him softly and continue eating.

The meal goes smoothly and when your mother brings out a cake for dessert you feel yourself relaxing. That is... until James puts his hand on your thigh.

You look over at him curiously and he simply smiles at you, his hand dipping under your skirt and moving up your thigh until his pinky brushes against your panties.

“Mr. Barnes?” You ask curiously. Your parents turn to you, surprised that you’ve spoken to him.

“Yess, (Y/n)?” He squeezes your thigh and you jump a little. “N-nevermind. My question must’ve run off. “ Your father chuckles and says something about how that happens to the best of people. You’re too busy trying not to jolt as his fingers slip beneath your panties, brushing against your wet folds.

One of his thick fingers slips inside of you and you gasp loudly, dropping your fork onto the floor.

“Oh goodness! I-I’m sorry mother.” She frowns at your behaviour.

“I can grab your fork for you, (Y/n).” James bends down to pick up your fork, removing his fingers from you as he comes back up. He hands you the fork and holds your gaze as he brings the finger that was inside of you to his mouth.

“I’m feeling I’ll, mother. May I please be excused?” She nods and you hurry upstairs, your thighs trembling as purely sinful thoughts fill your mind.

You drop to your knees beside your bed and start praying desperately, begging God to forgive you for the sin you committed at the table. Asking Him to remove the sinful thoughts from your mind.

~

“(Y/n) your father’s at work and I’m popping over to check on Peter. James is working in the back yard. Get him lunch and a drink if he asks.” You nod, watching as your mother hurries out of the house.

It’s been a week since the dinner incident and since then you’ve had naughty thoughts far more often than you’d like to admit.

You’re typing away on your laptop when the back door opens.

“Afternoon, (Y/n).” You give James a curt nod, not wanting to interact with him any more than you have to.

“I’m feeling parched. Could you grab me a drink?” You close your laptop and walk to the fridge, grabbing him a bottle of water. He takes it from you, eyes drinking in your figure.

You can’t help but watch as he brings the bottle up to his pink lips, a few drops of water trailing over his chin and down his neck.

You look away quickly and swallow hard, rubbing your thighs together to try and get rid of the growing tension between them.

“I know you want to sin,” he whispers suddenly, one of his hands finding your waist.

“M-Mr. Barnes… I don’t….” He shushes you, stepping closer until his thigh is between your legs.

“It’s okay. You know, it’s not a sin if it’s with someone from church. If you’re both followers of Christ then your sins are immediately forgiven.” Your eyebrows raise. “Really?” He nods, the hand on your waist squeezing tightly.

“It would be a sin on my part to let you exist in a state of frustration the way you are. Do you want me to help?” You nod vigorously, relieved that it’s not sinning with him.

“Rub yourself on my thigh.” You follow his command, gasping as pleasure erupts from between your legs. “Wh-what is this?” You ask breathlessly, rubbing harder and faster against him.

“That’s your pretty little clit thanking you for making her happy. And your pussy is crying right now because she wants attention. But don’t worry, daddy’s gonna give you all the attention you need.” He helps you ride his thigh, biting his bottom lip as you soak through your panties and make a mess of his jeans.

“Oh, oh.. yes… yes…” Your hips stutter then stop, the pleasure too much.

“No Princess. You’ve gotta keep going if you want it to feel good.” He forces you to keep moving, grinding you against his thigh as you moan and whimper.

“But Mr. Barnes…” He shakes his head and looks into your eyes. “Call me daddy when we’re alone.” “Daddy… it’s too much.” He ignores you and continues rubbing your puffy pussy over his jeans, eyes focused on your face as you slowly come undone right in the kitchen. Your body convulses and you lean against him for support, gasping wildly and moaning as your very first orgasm rips you apart.

“Mr. B- Daddy,” you correct yourself last minute. “What was that?” He smiles and kisses your lips, relishing in the little squeak you release. Your lips quickly move against his, the feeling foreign but wonderful.

“That, babygirl, was called an orgasm. And daddy plans on giving you plenty of those.”

~*~

For the next few days, James shows you how good orgasms feel, and how to give yourself one.

You're rubbing your clit furiously, eyebrows drawn together in slight frustration as your climax lies just out of reach.

“Does my baby want some help?” You squeal and attempt to cover yourself. James laughs and locks your bedroom door behind himself.

“Your mother went into town with your father. They won’t be home for a few hours. I figured maybe I can show you another way to orgasm.” You nod excitedly, desperate to get off.

“Lie back against your pillows, princess. Daddy’s gonna show you how good it feels to have someone eat your pussy.” The words make you feel embarrassed for a moment but that -and all other thoughts- leaves your mind as soon as he brushes his tongue over your wet folds.

“Oh Daddy!” You grab his hair, the sensation strange but absolutely breathtaking.

��Mhm... daddy’s eating your cute princess cunt. You taste so good, baby.” He sucks on your clit harshly then pushes his tongue inside of you. “D-daddy...” He grins and continues fucking into you with his tongue, only to replace it with his middle finger.

His mouth focusses solely on your clit and you yell out praises. The sloppy sound of him fingering you makes you even wetter and he’s surprised that he’s not drowning in your slick. Yet.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise and you shout out for him, your legs trembling around his head as he licks you through it.

He pulls away after a few more moments, a wicked grin on his face as you lie panting on your bed.

“That one felt so so good daddy. I want another one. Please?” He looks around then nods, grabbing your hairbrush off of your dresser and heading into the bathroom. You’re half asleep when he comes back, but that doesn't stop him from gingerly pushing the handle of the hairbrush into your tight cunt.

“Oh... that feels so good...” He moves it slowly in and out of you and you moan lazily, eyes fighting to open. “I like that... I like it a lot...” He continues fucking you with the hairbrush, watching the way your cunt swallows the handle, squeezing it tightly.

“Look at how pretty your pussy looks, taking your hairbrush. You’re so greedy baby. Your pussy just wants someone to play with it. That’s why daddy is here.”

You’re almost asleep but that doesn’t stop him. He keeps fucking your pliant body with the brush, lost in the way your delicious pussy looks.

When your body starts quivering he pulls the brush out, his tongue replacing it and guzzling up your sweet juices.

“You taste amazing baby.” He looks up to your face when you don’t respond, chuckling as he finds you fast asleep.

He redresses you then tucks you in, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek before heading downstairs to get back to work.

~

“Alright dear. James is gonna be working upstairs to fix that leaky faucet. Your father and I should be home around midnight. If anything happens, call us.” She kisses your forehead then promptly leaves, your father following after her.

As soon as they’re gone you grab your hairbrush and push your panties aside, desperate to feel it stretching your walls.

You fuck yourself on your brush, moaning at the intense feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Stop.” Your hand freezes and you look up at James.

“Take your panties off then come sit on my lap.” He’s seated on your bed, his hand down his pants.

You rid yourself of your soaked panties then hurry to sit on his lap, eager for him to give you another orgasm.

“Today I’m gonna put my cock in you. And you’re gonna take it all like a good girl, right?” You nod and glance down, your eyes widening as you see his long thick cock.

“I don’t think it’s gonna fit, daddy.” He chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. “I’ll make it fit.” He helps you onto your knees and lines his hard cock at your entrance, guiding your hips down.

When the tip nudges inside of you you cry out, the heat of it and the stretch feeling like something out of a fairytale.

He helps you down more and more, ignoring the way you cry out in pain, until his hips are flush with the underside of your thighs.

“So good, baby. So good for me.” He brushes your hair out of your face and you whimper, eyes shut tightly.

“Whenever you want it to feel good, start moving.” His voice is strained and tight, the feel of your tight wet walls hugging his cock almost too much.

You stay still for a while, letting your walls adjust to the intrusion. When you’re ready for more you look up at him with need written all over your face.

“Ride Daddy like he’s a horsey, okay? Just like we’re playing horsey.” You nod and slowly start rocking your hips, high-pitched moans bouncing off the walls of your room. You ride him slowly, not exactly sure what you’re doing, and he gets tired of that quickly.

He flips you onto your back and hammers into you, watching your mouth drop open and eyes roll back.

“Oh goodness!” He chuckles and fucks into you with no remorse, pounding into your poor pussy as hard as he can.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his body as a powerful orgasm surges through your veins, the smell of sex and sweat overpowering your lilac candle.

“Daddy! Daddy, please! I want one! Please!” He chuckles, the sound almost lost between the panting of the two of you and the squelching noises of your soaked pussy devouring his thick cock.

One of his hands snakes down to where your bodies are connected and he rubs on your clit, cursing as your walls flutter around him.

“I... Oh Daddy it’s coming!!” He rubs harder and your pussy squeezes his cock as you let out a scream, the orgasm almost knocking you out.

He tries to thrust but he basically can’t move with the way your cunt is squeezing him. You’re so tight it almost hurts.

Then your walls start pulsing and he can’t hold on. He cums inside of you, thick ropes of white painting your cervix and coating your walls.

The two of you pant on your bed, his face pressed against your breasts while your legs lie limply at your sides.

“Daddy?” you whisper, tugging gently on his hair so he looks up at you.

“Yes, Princess?” You bite your lip then clench your cunt around him, making him moan.

“I want another one.”

~

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[monaisme]

Day 22: burned

Day 22: burned

“I’m just gonna say this,” Peter piped up, “It sure is nice to know that there are people on this planet that have the sense to run for cover when alien lizard men attack your town.”

“True story!” Mr. Stark exclaimed as he dragged his Iron Man suitcase along beside him. “I’d say I blame the NYC tourists but... yeah.”

Peter, still in full garb gave him the side-eye. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry that for you? It’s really nothing for me, sir,” he offered for the second time.

“Pfft. Do you hear that, Clint?! He calls me old and then expects me to back up his insult by allowing him to carry my totally not too heavy armour.” Mr. Stark lamented.

“I never called you old, Mr. Stark!” Peter replied.

Mr. Stark stopped in his tracks and pointed a finger at the kid. “Did you or did you not call me ‘sir,’ Spider-Man?”

“You know I did!”

Mr. Barton snorted.

“And I rest my case, your honor! The kid thinks I’m old!” Mr. Stark flailed around in mock exasperation, and then continued on toward the quinjet. “I’ll carry my own suit, thank you very much—even though it’s practically scrap now.”

That suit was actually why Mr. Stark, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Barton, and Peter were walking down the abandoned Main Street that ran through the center of Broadbury, New Jersey; home of Joe’s Garage & Gas & Convenience Store & Diner... well, maybe not anymore?  The town proper had actually managed to come out of the attack pretty unscathed save for Joe’s, which was still on fire, but it was only the Diner end and it looked to be burning low. An alien powered knock by one of their lizard nemeses had messed with Mr. Stark’s power distribution, though. Within minutes of the hit, he’d received an alert that he needed to exit the suit or risk needing to be cut out of it.  

... and without the suit, they didn’t have the scanning capacity to confirm that all hostiles had been dispatched and that the town was safe.

The quinjet however was wholly capable...

Sirens could suddenly be heard in the distance.

“And that would be the cavalry!” Mr. Stark joked. Yes, Damage Control would come in and help out in the end, but that didn’t mean they let the world burn. Just before his suit had shut down, Mr. Stark was calling in the neighbouring townships’ volunteer fire departments. Broadbury, New Jersey would be fine.

Mr. Barton grinned once he heard the approaching trucks. “Sweet! You know, if we double time it to the quinjet, we can be back in time to sneak in some pizza and a couple of movies before the Spider-baby here,” he gave Peter a playful shove, “needs to be home for bedtime.”

Ms. Romanoff smiled, “That sounds fun, but I’m picking the movies, tonight.”

Mr. Stark and Peter knew better than to argue with her. Mr. Barton, however, couldn’t contain the whine. “But Nat, you always pick stuff with subtitles!”

“Yes, Clint, it’s called exposing the baby spider to culture.”

Peter stopped walking abruptly, “Guys, wait. Did you hear that?”

Of course no one else heard a thing, and with the suit offline, Mr. Stark couldn’t even pretend to try and help.

Peter raised his hand to stop their rustling. “Shhh.”

“heeeelp.” The call was so weak, it was no wonder the others couldn’t hear it... and it seemed to be coming from Joe’s.

“Shoot, guys! There’s someone over at Joe’s!” He gestured to the building. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He was off before Mr. Stark could holler out a “Be careful!”

They were all mother hens, and he told Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanoff as much over the comm.

“Enough with the sass.” She called out. “Focus and get the job done. It’s a fire and you never mess around with it.”

Peter had helped with enough fires in the city to know exactly that. “Yes, ma’am.” He replied, and then searched for a safe point of entry.

The diner seemed to be the place to be, and so Peter called out as he entered the smoke filled but flame free part of the building, “Hello?! Can you hear me?”

Peter heard a weak cough, but no actual call for help. He had to hurry.

“Hey! I’m coming! Just hang on!” he yelled out, and crossed through the diner into the small attached convenience store. He wondered offhandedly if the aliens had made their way in here and they’d missed it, ‘cuz Peter could tell that the building was trashed even through the smoke. Twinkies and cases of Gatorade and those little white powdered donuts were messing up the entryway, but he leapt over them all easily enough. “Hello?! Can you make some noise?”

Peter heard another cough on the opposite side of the room, closer to the entryway to the garage... and the fire.

Shit!

Hey! I’m here, buddy! I’m coming!” The heat was becoming uncomfortable, especially when coupled with the smoke. It hadn’t looked that bad from the outside, had it?

“Ms. Romanoff! What’s the status of the fire?”

She replied immediately. “It’s looking pretty much burnt out from where I’m standing, but that doesn’t mean anything.” She paused, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied as he tried to move a large, industrial metal shelf while keeping lower to the ground. “But tell Mr. Stark we’ve gotta work on a better-- *cough*-*cough*-- air filtering system for the *cough* suit.”

“Will do, Spider-Man. Just hurry.”

Peter did, and within ten seconds had found the man trapped under another metal shelf. The man was nearly unconscious and Peter was starting to struggle to breathe a little more, but that didn’t stop him from reassuring. “I’m here, buddy *cough*-*cough*-- gonna get you outta *cough* here.”

He’d never be exactly sure how it happened, but as Peter moved the shelf trapping the now unconscious man, another shelf toppled and shattered an exterior window. His spider-senses flared like the fire around them and Peter was throwing himself over top of the man he was determined to save.

He could barely find the breath to scream as the fire receded, though the flames licking at the edges of his scorched suit still burned, and he dragged the man toward the only exit he could barely see through the smoke with the last of his strength.  He stumbled and fell forward, and thought this was the end, only to be caught in the arms of the fireman who would pull him and the man to safety.

Peter was barely aware of the people surrounding him—them... the man? The man was being pulled away and Peter was being strong for him and then he was gone and all Peter knew was pain in its purest form. He was the pain. No part of him existed save for it.

He didn’t hear Ms. Romanoff screaming over the comms for Mr. Barton to run faster—get the quinjet there NOW!

He didn’t hear Mr. Stark threatening to kill the next person to try and take the mask off as he waved around the sidearm he would wear under his suit.

He didn’t hear anything because he was flame and fire—

* * * * * *

On a regular day, the distance between Broadbury, New Jersey and the compound would be approximately ten minutes, if Clint really meant it.

Today, he did. Clint made it in five and a half.

Everyone was afraid to touch him, so they didn’t save for the removal of his mask within the safe confines of the quinjet and to place a nasal cannula for oxygen once he’d been positioned on his belly on the stretcher.

They’d never been more grateful to watch the boy lose consciousness.

While Peter was unconscious, his teammates sat brief vigil—none of them were devout to any type of faith, but only a higher power could be responsible for someone as wonderful as Peter, and that was who Tony, Clint, and Natasha prayed to.

* * * * * *

They landed and within seconds of the landing gear hitting the roof of the compound, SHIELD medical staff were flooding the plane and tending to the boy. He was transferred to a gurney and was on his way down the ramp and on his way to Helen Cho... and thank God for her and the absolute providence that placed her in New York in the first place.

She’d sent a nurse out to update the lot of them approximately forty-five minutes after they’d entered the room. Their group had grown to include Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Wanda once word had gotten out that the Spider-kid was down.

None of them reacted when she disclosed that seventy percent of his back had been impacted by the flame. Second and third degree burns and months and months of pain and surgeries and grafts were in the cards for that precious boy, depending on...

And May was at a nursing conference in Virginia and out of contact until 9:30pm.

Tony was the secondary emergency contact and Peter’s alter-ego’s medical power of attorney, so when Helen Cho came out looking to discuss Peter’s care after a few hours of nothing, he was it.

She looked tired, but satisfied when she spoke. “He’ll be fine.”

It was like a puppet whose strings had been cut— the relief was palpable.

“We’ve just finished debriding his back and, because Peter is still a minor, we need a guardian’s permission to go forward with treatment.”

Most of the superheroes paled.

Steve muttered a quiet, ‘shit.’

Helen smiled in sympathy. “Yes, it was a lot, and unfortunately Peter woke up during the worst of it. We did give him his painkillers, but as with non-enhanced individuals, it can only bring so much relief. Now, we need to discuss how we are going to progress in his treatment.”

Tony cocked his head in confusion, “What is there to discuss? You do what you need to do to fix him. End of story.” He looked back at his teammates, where they all stood nodding in agreement.

“It’s that there are two options here, Tony. We have an enhanced teen so the standard option isn’t one— that would be the multiple surgeries, etc. Now what I’d like to do is use the Cradle but—“

Tony jumped in, “Do you have the Cradle here? I thought you were keeping at your lab in Seoul?”

“I do have it here. It was why I was in New York in the first place... I would—“

Again, Tony didn’t wait for her to finish. “Use the Cradle, Helen. The boy shouldn’t have to suffer for doing the right thing.”

Relief washed over Helen’s face. “Thank goodness! Okay, I’m going to head back in to prep him for the procedure.” She then addressed everyone present. “The treatment will be at least a few hours. You may want to head up to your quarters and shower and clean up.” She knew how much the boy was cared for. “I will send out an update when everything is done. Trust me. We’ll take good care of him.” She smiled once more and headed back into the treatment room.

Tony looked at his team, all exhausted for the waiting and doing nothing. “Alright, folks, you heard the good doctor. Everyone head out and grab a shower if you stink like Clint, or something to eat or whatever. Just take a break. We’ll all be here for the next couple of days I’m sure, so let’s just take a breather while we can.”

Clint grumbled about not smelling bad, Steve mumbled something about making his Ma’s soup so it would be ready for the Spider-kid, and all the rest filed out one after the other... except for Tony.

Tony stayed and waited.

* * * * * *

Tony called Pepper to fill her in on the chaos and she promised she’d be at the compound first thing in the morning to help out with whatever they’d need. She was awesome that way.

He’d also managed to get ahold of May shortly after midnight. A quick drink with friends had turned into a girls’ night so Tony was sending Happy out with his private jet out to collect her first thing in the morning so she could grab some sleep before she entered the fray. Peter was stable, and there was no need for her to stress about finding a way back so it just made sense.

It was an hour after that when Helen popped her head out into the waiting area and scanned the room. She saw Tony, pointed to him, and then spoke, “Come with me. He needs you.”

Tony was up and moving before she’d finished demanding. Nothing would keep him away.

She talked as they walked down the short corridor to the treatment rooms. “We’d just finished up with the Cradle when we were moving him to a bed to rest. Everything was fine—is fine. We wanted him to take a few steps, just to get the circulation going and,” she put a hand out to stop Tony from entering the room. “It’s my fault. I didn’t take into account the energy he burns through when he heals and he ended up passing out.”

Tony was about to panic but Helen put up her hand to stop him.

“He’s fine! We’ve got him in bed, but we’ve put in a nasogastric feeding tube and he was a little upset. He’s calm now, but we thought you might be able to cheer him up.”

Grateful that he was being recruited for support squad and not something more dramatic after the long day they’d had, Tony gladly accepted the task and walked through the door—only to stop short at what he saw.

It wasn’t gore or anything like that. Not at all. Peter was laying on his stomach on one of the med bay beds. The tube that Helen had mentioned was in and a bag of nutrient sludge was hanging from a hook next to the IV bags of saline and antibiotics and the like. It wasn’t the oxygen. It wasn’t even the exposed pink skin, freshly grown on the kid’s back.

No. Tony always seemed to forget how small Peter was—for the huge presence he was out in the world and even as a part of the team, he was still a gawky sixteen year old boy trying to find his place.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” the boy whispered, interrupting Tony’s thoughts. “I told them you didn’t need to come in. I figured you were probably asleep so...” he trailed off.

Tony pulled up one of the rolling stools and plunked himself down. “Nope—I was waiting for my favourite Spider-Baby to finish playing with the cool kids,” he gestured to the medical staff around them. “And now I just get to hang out with you for the boring part.”

“Boring part?”

Tony smiled softly, “You know, the part where you close your eyes and sleep part?”

Peter smiled back sleepily. “Oh, that part.”

“Yeah, so you can close your eyes now. The scary stuff is over and now you can rest or make a list of movies without subtitles to force Nat to watch—Hell. I may even let you order a pizza with pineapple on it without giving you grief once you’re outta here.” Tony gave him a playful wink.

“That sounds nice, Mr. Stark... but, um... I like the movies with subtitles.”

Tony laughed, “Of course you do, ya’ brat!”

Peter chuckled along, then grew serious. “Mr. Stark? Did the man make it? The one from the fire?”

Tony hadn’t needed him to clarify, but was embarrassed by his response. “I’m gonna be honest, Pete. I hadn’t given him a thought.” No. Tony had been too busy worrying about him. “Why don’t you go to sleep and when you wake up, I’ll have some information for you, okay?”

Peter nodded cautiously. Some of the new growth kissed at the base of his neck and Tony was sure it felt strange.

“Don’t worry about it, though. He looked pretty okay when I last saw him.” He got up and leaned over, planting a soft kiss on the side of Peter’s head. “You did so good, kid. Now take a break and let the ‘B’ team worry about things for a while.

Peter nodded again, and closed his eyes. “Thanks, Mis’r Stark. You’re the best.”

Tony ran his fingers through the boy’s curls as he fell asleep, thinking to himself, “No, Petie, you are.”

* * * * * *

Peter had just fallen asleep for the night after a couple of false starts. Tony was going to do the same once the staff brought in a recliner, but when Nat and Steve came to the med bay room door, Nat clutching a manila folder, he figured it was a lost cause.

“How is he?” Steve asked as Tony approached them.

Tony smiled. “He’s gonna be fine. I think we’ll have some issues to deal with it, but I’m gonna talk to Sam in the morning and figure some things out.”

Steve closed his eye for a second and nodded. Perhaps it was a prayer of gratitude? Tony would never know, but he was grateful, too.

Nat interrupted then. “I know it’s late, but we just found out how Michael ‘Joe’ Hanlan is doing, and thought you’d appreciate the update.”

Tony saw the look on Nat’s face, and cringed. “I’m not so sure this is news I want to hear.”

She looked frustrated and angry, two combinations that were never good on her. “The fire marshal headed over to the site shortly after we left. There were some concerns that with a team member of ours being hurt, that we’d need all the relevant information for our reports as soon as possible.”

Tony was imagining that he looked as confused as he felt. “That was mighty considerate of him?”

“It was, and I was especially appreciative of the fact that they’d already moved quickly to arrest Mr. Hanlan for arson once they found the gas cans.”

Tony straightened. “Excuse me?”

Nat just shook her head. “Apparently Mr. Hanlan saw the aliens and decided that now was the time to cash in with Damage Control and get the hell out of Broadbury, New Jersey. He and the stripper he met in Atlantic City during his last gambling binge were already planning to head to Vegas for a fresh start when this opportunity literally came out of the sky. He was apparently shoving over some shelving to add to the ‘level of authenticity,’” she air quoted, “when the shelf fell over unexpectedly and he ended up trapped and hurt.”

“He’s hurt?!” Tony inquired.

Steve took this question. “Yeah, he ended up with a pretty bad sprained wrist from when he topped the shelving, a mild concussion from when he hit the floor, and of course, the smoke inhalation.”

“...And our Spider-Baby is growing himself some fresh flesh for the effort to save the scumbag.”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “You know that won’t make a difference to Peter, right?”

Tony scowled at the truthfulness of the statement. “I know.”

And Tony really did, because already, the kid was better than them all.

 @febuwhump

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: Mentions of torture, angst, hope

A/N:  My state is on lockdown, so while I’m going into the office to prep my site for three weeks of isolation, I figured I’d get this out today earlier than usual so no one is waiting too long.

And I can’t believe the number of people who have followed this blog in the last week or so (has it only been that long?) and the people who are liking the posts.  Y’all know how to make a girl feel good. :)

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5]

Part 6

Homeward Bound

As the plane flew back towards Kentucky, the quiet that permeated its cabin was nearly stifling.  Agents sat throughout the plane lost in thought, but all were facing the same direction.  In the back of the plane, a motionless body lay under the covers on a makeshift bed. And every single person prayed that they made it back to Kentucky soon.

---***---

As darkness gripped Sacramento, Champ gave the signal.  The agents quietly surrounded the building and let themselves in.  Leading the pack, Champ and Tequila had their guns drawn and Jack had his lasso ready. The remaining agents drew their weapons before stepping inside. After the all clear was given, bodies fanned out through the building.  The three men took a quick pause to look at each other and with silent nods, they split up. Champ to the right, Tequila to the left, and Jack straight ahead.  He was going for Sirah and god save anyone who crossed his path this night.

Soon the sound of gun fire rang out through the building and shouts could be heard.  Despite feeling as if he should help his fellow agents as the sounds got louder and faster, Jack never strayed his course and soon he found himself on the third story of the building.  He investigated every room but found each one empty.  His gut roiled as he turned up nothing time and time again.  Then at the end of the hall, he opened the door and there she was. He dropped to his knees.

As she sat on the floor, arms shackled to the wall, Sirah look dead to Jack. Her head lolled to the side, but he could see her face grotesquely swollen from the repeated beatings she received.  She looked nearly naked in just her tee shirt and underwear, both soaked through with blood. He could see parts of her body horribly scarred from burns sustained in the explosion, and her entire body looked as if was one giant bruise.

He crawled over to her, whispering ‘no’ over and over like a prayer. She had to be alive, he needed her to be alive.  Hear her voice, her laughter every day.  When he reached her, he drew a shaky breath and touched her.  To his immense relief she was warm.

“Sirah. . .”  he called out in a low voice, not wanting to startle her.  “Sirah!”

She didn’t move, but he could see her breathing.  He touched her gently and shook her.  He called her name again and when she didn’t move, he took a risk. He looked around to make sure they were alone.

“Marigold, wake up.”  He whispered her name, her real name.  Their own secret that they carried between the two of them.  Statesmen used code names to protect agents and their families, and while Jack liked to buck tradition, the unspoken rule of code name only ruled the organization.  But one night, as the two laid side by side staring at the stars from the roof of a Statesmen outpost, she told him.  It was the most intimate moment they experience and from then on, everything changed for them.

“Marigold, please, baby, I need you to wake up.”  His voice caught but she stirred and groaned a bit in response. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.

“Jack?”

“Marigold, I’m here my love.”

“Jack.”  Her head hung back down. “Just five more minutes, I promise I’ll get up then.”

He couldn’t stop the small smile at her joke, but knew he had to get her out there fast.  He ran back to the hallway and saw Agent Saki at the end.  He shouted towards the young man, who turned and yelled further down the hall.  A host of feet came running, led by Champ.

When the agents entered the room, they all stopped at the sight.  The horror couldn’t be contained and when someone saw Tequila coming down the hall, Champ ran out to stop him.  It was bad enough Jack had to find her; Tequila may never recover if he saw her the way she was.  He convinced the agent to go get their medic crew and he turned back to the room.

Champ and Jack unlocked her shackles thanks to a set of keys found in a spare office by one of the West Coast agents.  Her arms dropped and she slumped over onto Jack’s chest, groaning. She looked terrible and both men were afraid to pick her up.  Thankfully, the medics came in with a transport board and carefully pulled her onto it.  They worked quickly to stabilize her before she was hoisted off the ground by several agents.  Three to a side.

Jack wasn’t a superstitious man, but as he watched them carry her out, he couldn’t help but to think he was watching a funeral.  A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked over at Champ. The sadness in the older man’s eyes was devastating and they looked at each other for a long time before stepping out of the room.

---***---

Once they arrived back in Kentucky, Sirah was whisked away to the medic bay with Ginger on the heels of the med team.  The junior agents were sent back to their apartments and the three senior agents stood in the foyer of HQ.  For a long time, no one said anything or moved.  The West Coast branch descended on the Sacramento site after the rescue to contain the scene and Champ gladly let them take the lead on the case for the time being.  None of his agents were going to be able to handle this right now

The men eventually moved upstairs and on the third floor, they found Ginger sitting in the small waiting room of the medic bay.  Her eyes were dull, and her arms were wrapped around her body, as if she was trying to warm herself from some cold no one else could feel.

Soon after, the doctor walked out into the waiting room. Known as Dr. Licuados, the older gentleman looked exhausted as he sat down before looking at everyone.  They waited with bated breath.

“She’ll live,” he said.  “But she has a long road to recovery.  She’s got second and third degree burns across most of her back, arms, legs, and neck, all from the explosion.  If we didn’t find her in time, the infection from that alone would have killed her. She has contusions all over her face and body.  Shallow cuts all over her chest and upper arms produced most of the blood she was covered in.  Her hip and three ribs are broken while her jaw and her left hand have hairline fractures. She has other burns as if from a cigarette or some other source and she’s dehydrated as hell.”

Champ cleared his throat and asked the question everyone was wondering, “Doctor, was she. . .”

Licuados raised a hand and stopped him.

“No. We haven’t found any evidence of that.”  The relief was palpable in the room.

“When can we see her?” Asked Tequila.  He had been the quietest since they boarded the plane in California.  It almost startled everyone when he spoke.

“We’re getting ready to wheel her into surgery right now to fix the broken hip and reinforce the ribs.  It will be several hours before she’ll be out of surgery, but I’ll ask the nurses to wait so you can come in before she goes under.”  He got up and squeezed Ginger’s knee before shaking Champ’s hand.  He walked back through the doors and several long minutes passed before a nurse waved them back to the holding bay.  There in the bed lied Sirah, unconscious and to her friends, she almost looked dead.

Each of the agents took time to hold her hand or to touch her face as gently as they could.  Each whispered their love into her ear and stepped out when the next agent went to do the same.  As Ginger left the bay last, they stood in the hallway looking at each other.  The nurses came for Sirah and wheeled her bed towards the operating room.  Champ spoke only when the door closed behind the party.

“As much as I know we all want to be here, it’s been a long twenty-four hours and I need you all go back to your apartments and get some rest. She’ll be in surgery for hours and it’s not event certain when she’ll wake up afterwards.  I need you all fresh tomorrow so we can find this son of a bitch.” The three remaining agents nodded their agreement, and all moved out of the med bay.

But none of them went to sleep that night.  It wouldn’t come to some and to others, it softly taunted them with visions of death and decay when they tried.  Exhausted, Champ entered his apartment and walked straight to the bedroom, where his wife was awake and waiting for him.  He sighed as he stripped himself of his work clothes and set his gun on the dresser.  When he turned, she opened her arms to him, and he crawled across their bed and laid his head on her stomach.  As she ran her fingers through his hair, he curled his arm around her waist and cried until there was nothing left in him.

Two stories up, Tequila and Ginger laid in his bed, holding each other as they cried.  Sobs raked Tequila and Ginger was certain she had an endless well of tears.  His grip on her hand was hard, but she welcomed the pain because it made her feel alive, the total opposite of the deathly cold that settled in her chest earlier in the evening.  Throughout the night, the crying jags continued between bouts of fitful sleep that brought no relief to the two friends who hurt so much.

Jack walked into his office and closed the door behind him.   Through his office window, one could see the sky brightening in the east, heralding the dawn of a new day.  But he never saw it as he held his head in his hands and sobbed until his throat was raw.  When his energy gave out, he sank to his knees and dropped his head to the floor. The cool tile almost stung against his hot forehead, but it did little to help.  He stayed like that for hours, rocking back and forth praying that the woman he loved would come back to him.

[jinmukangwrites]

Look

Summary: if one can't even look at him, he may as well make the other proud.

-o-o-o-o-

Cicadas cry into the setting sun, it's glow casts the land into a orange hue. Grasshoppers disappear and crickets take their place, singing into the open sky and the empty fields. Tahomaru sits there, staring into the blue water reflecting the colored sky… and his own face.

Long grass brush against his body as he leans forward, inspecting the long scar running down the side of his face. It has permanently shut his eye, making him completely blind in that eye. The silence cutting through the songs of bugs screams at him as he brushed his fingers down his cheek. Hyogo and Mutsu sit behind him patiently, waiting for him to be done.

He sighs as he looks into the water. A cool breeze rushes past him, rustling the grass and his clothes. He hears Mutsu shift, like she's about to suggest they head back. He supposes he should make the call before she feels obligated to do so.

He stands up without a word and begins to walk back towards his home. He has avoided that place all day, choosing to be on his own rather than deal with the rushing nurses and doctors. Rather than deal with his father's disappointed glare.

The walk back is quick. Too quick in his opinion. He would much rather it take weeks to walk home, but life seems to decide to hold a grudge against him as it makes the journey seem even shorter than normal.

"You are dismissed," he says when he reaches the front gates of his home. Hyogo almost looks like he's about to protest, but the glare Tahomaru sends his way must have been warning enough.

Mutsu promptly bows, a stern and concerned tightness to her face. Hyogo swallows and bows as well before they both turn and walk away to their quarters.

Tahomaru sucks in a breath of air as he turns towards his home. It's silent, it usually is when night comes. His mother needs her rest, they say. She is gravely injured and needs as much peace and quiet as she can get to heal up. The quiet, they say, will heal her, but all it does for Tahomaru is remind him that he hasn't seen her since they dragged her body off from the horse, blood pooling down her chest and her skin terribly pale even in the moonlight.

The doctors keep him out during the day. The need for rest keep him out at night.

He shakes his head and moves forward. Father had said she was a foolish woman, not able to understand just how important his sacrifice was to the land. His brother. Their son. Hyakkimaru.

The half born demon child.

Don't think about him, Tahomaru scolds himself. Don't think about him, worry about what's going on now.

There's a nurse quietly slipping out of his mother's room. She looks exhausted though not worried, which Tahomaru supposes is a good sign. The first few nights the nurses left hurriedly with concerned faces and quickly returned with water and medical supplies.

"She is gravely injured," they had said when they found a second to let Tahomaru know how his own mother is doing, "and she has fallen into a depressive state… all we can do is make sure she doesn't bleed."

A depressive state. Everyone knows why. It's because she was hoping they demons would take her life instead of his when she stabbed herself.

"Young master?" asks the nurse, breaking Tahomaru out from his thoughts.

"Yes?" He replies. He sets his face in a stone like manor, not to let his confusion, his fear, his anger show.

The nurse gives him a nervous look and wrings her hands in her apron for a second before she opens her mouth. "How is your eye?"

Tahomaru gives her a quick one over before he sighs and folds his arm. "Fine. How's mother?"

The nurse's face drops as her eyes suddenly look away from him. "She's… better than yesterday."

That can mean a wide range of things. Maybe she willingly ate some food, maybe she said something other than "I'm sorry." Maybe she smiled.

Tahomaru nods and begins to walk around the nurse. Thankfully, the nurse takes that as their goodbye and she quickly walks away in the other direction. He takes a deep breath of air and is about to head towards his bedroom, but something stops him. His eyes travel towards his mother's room, the place he has hardly ever seen her out of, and he stares.

He is worried about her. The last few days have been very stressful for her and he will be lying if he says he wasn't scared for her. His father was cold as ice when her name comes up in conversation and various soldiers and peasants talk about her like she's a crazy old woman. He wonders what will happen to her when she's fully recovered.

If she's ever fully recovered.

He finds himself making a split second decision. One he knows he will probably regret later, but for now, he doesn't care. The weight of the past few events has been pressing on his shoulders and he doesn't think he can take it any longer. He has to see her.

He looks around him and is thankful to see that there is no one around. The nurse has left and the guards are off patrolling, looking for the demon child. He takes a deep breath and practically sprints over to the doorway to her room, it's covered with curtains. He hesitates for just a second, but then shakes his head and brushes the curtains aside.

"Mother?" He asks.

The room looks lifeless. It's dark, nothing but the light of a single candle on the far side of the room to provide a source of sight. However, he can see her just fine. She is laid on a bed roll in the middle of the room, her back towards him. She looks asleep, which caused him to shrink back ever so slightly.

Maybe he should go-

"-maru…" came a small whimper. Tahomaru pauses and looks back at his mother's form. She's shifting slowly, ever so slightly, so she's looking towards him with half lidded eyes.

"Mother," he breaths. She looks like death, cheeks sunken in and eyes glinting lifeless in the candle light. He rushes over and kneels besides her as she lifts a hand towards him. "I'm here, mom," he says.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. Her voice is so quiet and rough with disuse, though he doesn't care. He just grabs her hand and holds it between his own.

"It's okay, mom," he says. "I for-"

"I'm sorry," she says again, "I'm so sorry, my son, Hyakkimaru."

The room seems to chill a thousand degrees as shivers travel up his back. She looks up at him with eyes pleading for forgiveness, but not towards Tahomaru, it's for him.

"Mother, no," he says, clutching her hand tighter.

"You grew up so handsome," she says, blinking slowly as her mouth twitches into a very rare smile. She never smiles at him. "I'm sorry, Hyakkimaru, please… I ask for your forgiveness. What… happened to your eye, son?"

"No," Tahomaru chokes, he brings her hand up to his face and buries his head into the palms of his and her hands. "Mother… it's me," he looks up and prays the candle light is enough for her to see, "Tahomaru. Your son, Tahomaru."

She blinks slowly at him and her eyebrows come together. "Hyakkimaru-"

"Ta-ho-maru," he says, more forcefully than he has planned, but the volume of his voice almost seems to be uncontrollable, as with the growing urge to vomit.

"Taho…" she whispers and blinks again. She looks straight into his face and he feels a surge of hope for just a second.

It all goes crashing down when she pulls her hand out from his and begins to shift so her back his to him. "Mother," he chokes, reaching towards her but she's not listening any longer. She's looking at the far wall at an empty table where a headless statue used to stand.

She is always looking at that statue. That damned statue.

Anger fuels inside his veins, making his limbs heavy with the urge to- to… hit something. Red creeps around his vision as he stands up from his spot and strides over to the empty table.

"There's nothing here," he snarls as he positions himself in the way of her now unblinking eyes. "I'm here, not… not him."

Her eyes are towards him, but they're not looking at him.

He wants to scream. So he does. "Look at me!" He yells. She doesn't react a smidge and he can feel his fingers beginning to tremble. His eyes sting. He feels something animal crawl up his throat as he spins around and grabs the table, with a roar he flips it over. She doesn't even blink as he spins around, breathing hard. "LOOK AT ME."

She's still, and he stomps over to her and drops to her level. He grabs her limp hand and presses it against his jaw. "Tahomaru! Your son! Why won't you look at me!?"

The stinging in his eyes turn into a fire as drops begin to trail down his cheeks. He clutches onto her unresponsive hand tighter and bends down so his head is against her chest.

"You never look at me!" He screams into her robes, "All you look at his that demon! That statue! Never at me! Why won't you-" he chokes on his breath and the tears intensify.

"Why won't you look at me?"

He cries into her chest for a long time after that.

-o-o-o-o-

Up. Down. Side. Block. Swipe. Stab. Slash.

Sweat drips down the side of his face and he swings his sword harder. Faster. Better. There's no time to have fun practicing swordsmanship. He was behind. He was weak. He was-

The ruffling of clothes catches his attention. He takes a deep breath and lowers his shaking arms before he turns. Mutsu and Hyogo stand there behind him they they have been there the whole time.

"You're here," he says. "Pack up. We're leaving at noon."

Mutsu blinks and Hyogo gets a slightly confused look on his face. "Where are we off to?" Hyogo asks hesitantly.

Tahomaru walks towards them, his chin held up like his father. "We're off to find my brother," he says. He pulls his sword out in front of him and shoves it into its scabbard roughly.

"And we're going to kill him."

[fluffy-flock]

Idk why Tumblr likes to delete my asks instead of saving them as drafts 8)

But here we go, from @amuseoffirebane !

Laith -

Despite what he himself and everyone around him thinks, Laith can be incredibly smart. His big talents come in the umbrella of emotional smarts, and then animal and medical know how. He learns very well when he's interested in the topic and has a good teacher. Laith just doesn't learn in traditional environments, like reading and memorizing or listening to a lecture.

Eventually, in modern settings, he becomes a licensed doctor and works at a hospital for a while, before deciding he needs to leave. He's very empathetic, and I think it would be too emotionally taxing to work there day in and day out. Eventually he becomes an event planner and, while he sometimes wishes he could put his actual degree to more use, he's very happy!

Excerpt:

Laith is familiar with Kaenun's office, but walks around anyway. He looks over the little decorations. It was cute, he felt pretty at home here.

Laith almost stops to tell him he's not obligated again, but shuts his mouth. Clearly Kaenun likes him and wants to do this, and he should really stop insisting that he doesn't have to do any of these basic friendship things. He instead just listens to the music and the typing. At first he just sways a little while he looks over the office, but some point after he ends up behind Kaenun, he's dancing. It is very cute, and actually doesn't look bad. It's mostly bopping along as he walks around, still in the blanket and humming.

Laith suddenly remembers they were talking.

"Oh, it's not so much of a drive. Absolitely worth it for your company, Kae."

Kaenun smiles as he continues typing, actually finishing up by the time Laith speaks. He saves the document and and turns around. He's surprised Laith hasn't moved to sit anywhere yet - the floor and counterspace were free game, but his friend stood.

"Should I get a second chair?" Kaenun hums. If he was younger and more flirtatious he might have just pulled Laith into his lap, but he does not. Not yet anyway.

"Ah, I was just having fun dancing and looking around. Did I ever tell you that I used to take dance?"

Kaenun shakes his head. "Not that I recall. Was it fun?"

"So much fun! My parents made me take ballroom for forever, and it was okay, but then I tried ballet and it was so much fun but ow?? I didn't really have the commitment. Swing was my favorite- I did it all the way through high school even..."

Jack -

Jack and Jol are honestly both so dear to me. My favorite stories with Jack are ones where he learns to finally let someone else take care of him, he has a very hard time not trying to be an obelisk. Especially because his best friend/little sibling does genuinely need a lot of support. It frustrates Jolyean to no end when he won't accept their help, honestly.

He has a girlfriend that @im-schrodingers-gay writes that is very good at both calling him out on letting toxic masculinity stop him from being vulnerable, and also making him feel safe. He love her 😢 So much. His brothers have a harder time, Tristan is really the closest to him, and the brother (outside of Jol) who can get Jack to talk about his problems. They have a really good relationship honestly? It helps that Tristan is very laid back. Owen and Jack get along the least, mostly because they're incredibly similar but just off enough to get on each others' nerves. When they're older (20s/30s in human 'verses) they sort things out, and stop tripping over each other trying to be in control of everything.

Excerpt

"I could have been part of the fun but noooo." Alim teased in a mock whine.

His husband smiled and nudged his side. "You never asked to be a part of the fun."

"You never asked me to be part of the fun."

"Know what's really fun?" Jack finally spoke up, nearly forgotten in the back, face on fire. "Not knowing who my parents have slept with. That's super fun. It's my favorite, actually."

Jolyean put a hand on Jack's arm, shoulders trembling with the effort of putting on a serious voice past his giggling. "Y-you have to let them go, Jack. They're their own people now. They're adults." He laughed and covered his grin, more leaning on Jack now.

Daiye laughs, but can't help feeling a little embarrassed. "I-"

"They can make their own choices, we have to let them be free to- to-" His youngest dissolves into another fit of giggles, and Jack crosses his arms with a heavy sigh. His eyes turn up to the clouds, either avoiding eye contact or praying for divine intervention. Or at least for everyone to move so he can leave.

"I don't want to hear it, I'm locking them both in their room." He glares down as his family giggles. In truth he's not so upset, but is used to playing the straight man, now "I'm stronger, I could carry you both back."

Daiye held back his own laughter."J-Jack, sweetheart, I'm sorry..."

Jolyean -

My beautiful baby 😢😢😢 I just fjfnskso love,,,,, so much

Jolyean is my little bundle of sunshine and I would kill and die for him? In human verses he makes....not the best choices, and ends up in maybe not the best crowds, but his family and his real friends help keep him safe. Karli and Jack especially play big roles in that! Mostly by trying to build his confidence back up after getting out of his bio parents house and after his first (very very Not Good) boyfriend.

But it's okay, bf man pays for it.

... In fantasy settings, Jay actually Takes Him Out, but it's fiiiiiine.

(It's not fine, Jol is upset bc he's too soft hearted to believe anyone should deserve to die.)

(Also several family members are bothered that Jay beat them to it.)

But here's an excerpt from the good boyfriend! For context of her describing what she's wearing, he was born blind.

"Surely, I'd hate for you too overheat."

Jolyean scoffs. "Psh, we're on top of a mountain! I'll cool down eventually. Just might have to remove a few layers..."

Vincent laughs a little and grins. "Exactly how many layers are we talking?"

She smiles wider, hearing him laugh. And his little smile was just so charming. She adjusts her hood and perks up, tossing her hair back behind her shoulder. Really, for her own benefit.

"Weeeeell, I've got my cloak, and then a little jacket and my gloves and scarf, and then my dress- not the big fluffy kind, just an A-line but really thick because it's so cold up here. And then...you know. Stuff. So quite a lot of layers to work with."

"So many that you may not be able to do it yourself?" A sly smile comes to his face, and he hopes he isn't inching too far over the line. Quite the contrary, she is delighted.

"Oh, no, there's far too many clasps for me to get it myself. And there's some on the back, it's so much work on my own..." She sighs, sorrowfully.

"So what I'm hearing is..." He leans in, and her heart pounds a little faster. She leans in a little more, looking over his handsome face and sighing softly.

"...Your parents still dress you?"

"I- hey!" She straightens up and, after mentally catching up, laughs with him. "Oh, that was good- touché, Vincent. No, actually I just wear the same outfit everyday. Bathing is below me."

[nightterrorsblog]

GLOBOPHOBIA - PATIENT RECORD HB198610D

Patient Name: Harrison, Brenda

Age: 32

Sex: Female

Diagnosis: Globophobia, fear of balloons

The following journal entries were retrieved from the patient’s home on 02/07/2018 by Agent 14.

9/24/2017

My therapist wants me to document my “attacks”, so here I am.

I went bowling with Kevin today. There was a kid’s birthday party happening when we got there. I used my breathing exercises and tried to ignore the balloons they had tied everyfuckingwhere so that I could relax with my boyfriend and have some fun. It worked for a while, but when the party ended and the adults were cleaning up their mess, a yellow balloon came loose and floated up to the ceiling. No one could reach it and I guess it hit some air flow from a vent or something, and it floated right down to my lane.

I swear to God, the fucking thing stopped dead right above me and started to sink down like I was wearing a magnet for it or some shit. I ran into the bathroom and stayed there until Kevin helped one of the employees get it down and came and got me. He says he understands, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he thinks I’m being stupid.

9/27/2017

Went to the store today. They decided to decorate for football season, apparently. Black and yellow balloons are tied to every damn register. I remembered the birthday party shit and walked out. I guess I’m ordering pizza tonight.

10/3/2017

Fuck that clown. Kevin says he was just being nice, but I swear to God that bastard was mocking me. “Take a balloon, ma’am, they’re free! No strings attached, I promise! Except the ones that keep them from flying away! HONK HONK I promise they don’t bite!” Get bent, you Pennywise looking asshole.

Kevin says I overreacted and that I embarrassed him. We got into a big fight and he left. Now he won’t answer my phone calls. Guess that’s over.

10/10/2017

Started a new medication today. Maybe this will work better than the hypnotherapy and other meds did. It fucking better. I hate needles.

10/14/2017

Got home from work today to find a yellow balloon tied to the doorknob on my front door. It had an angry face with sharp teeth drawn on it.

I went in through the back door and called my neighbor, but he wasn’t home. I could see the balloon through the window on the door. It had turned so that the face was looking at me. I barricaded myself in my bedroom and hid under my blankets, but I could still feel the fucking thing watching me.

My neighbor called me when he got home a couple of hours later, but he said there wasn’t a balloon on my door when he checked. Whoever put it there must have cleaned up the evidence.

It had to have been Kevin. Fuck you, Kevin.

11/16/2017

I was doing so well! I was able to go back to the store with the football decorations the other day and actually buy something. Sure, I had a panic attack in my car afterward, but it was progress! I thought the medicine might have been helping, but how much can anything help when someone decides to torment you?

There was another yellow balloon with a face drawn on it tied to my TV remote today. This face looked angrier and meaner than the last one. I ran outside and called the cops when I found it. It was gone when they got there. They looked all over the place to see if whoever left it was still in the house, but nope. They also didn’t find any clues pointing to how he got in.

This is so fucked up. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.

11/25/2017

Had an emergency appointment with my therapist today. I keep having nightmares about the fucking balloons. I can’t sleep. Everytime I close my eyes, I dream about angry yellow balloons chasing me, watching me, hurting me. Last night I dreamt that a bunch of them tied me down with ribbon and ate me alive. I can still hear the sounds of the balloons rubbing together while they fought for space to take bites. Ugh.

I’m afraid to leave my house and give that asshole another opportunity to fuck with me.

The therapist encouraged me to stay on my new meds and call the cops when I don’t feel safe. What if I never feel safe?

11/30/2017

Woke up this morning and went to make myself some breakfast. When I opened the refrigerator to grab the eggs, a yellow balloon flew out at me. The face on it was really twisted this time, and it kept coming toward me no matter what I did. I started throwing stuff at it, but it kept coming. I passed out at some point.

I guess my neighbor heard the commotion and called the cops. They were there when I woke up. The balloon wasn’t.

12/5/2017

Went to the hospital today. I went out to grab my mail and when I turned around to walk back into the house, I spotted a yellow balloon with a fanged smiley face drawn on it floating in my living room window. I guess I stumbled backward and stepped off of the curb, right into the path of a dude riding his bike down the street.

I have a concussion and some nasty bruises, but I’ll be alright, I guess. I saw the doctor who gives me my shots on my way out. He was super focused on reading something in a blue notebook, so I didn’t bother him.

Surprise, surprise. The balloon wasn’t there when I got home. I thought about reporting it to the police again, but at this point the only thing that’s gonna get me is a nice vacation in a padded room. The cops that came last time were thinking about it, I could tell.

I’m not crazy. I just want this to stop. I don’t think I can take much more.

12/9/2017

I’ve seen angry yellow balloons literally everywhere I go. Doctor is worried that my concussion is worse than they thought. MRIs are loud and uncomfortable.

12/20/2017

My therapist thought it would be a good idea to bring a yellow balloon out during my session today. Stupid bitch. “You need to face your fears, Brenda.” Fuck that shit. I bet she set up the camera so she could laugh at my reaction later with her buddies. “Clinical study” my ass.

I tried. I really did. Then Satan’s party favor started coming at me and I started screaming and crying like a fucking baby. Bitchface let it push me into a corner before she took it away. She said something about static electricity making it attracted to me, but I could tell she was making shit up to placate me. She seemed more interested in scribbling notes about the incident than actually convincing me that it was totally normal. I’m not stupid.

1/2/2018

Another one popped out of my closet this morning and rushed at me when I opened the door. Its eyes were colored red and its fangs were so big that it took up half of the balloon. I grabbed my softball bat and swung at it. When I made contact, it burst and this black goo sprayed everywhere. It got all over my arm and burned my skin. I wiped the goo off and went to the hospital.

I’m not crazy. The 2nd degree burns under the bandage on my arm tell me so.

So where the hell did the balloon corpse and all the black goo go?

1/9/2018

My arm isn’t healing. The burn is this gross brownish color. I think it’s infected. The balloons keep appearing, but they’re keeping their distance. Like they’re watching me, waiting for something.

1/14/2018

I swear to God the fucking burn is spreading and it’s turning yellow. My therapist says it looks the same to her as it did last week. Useless bitch.

1/20/2018

I’m writing this from my bed, hiding under the covers like a fucking child. There are like 10 yellow balloons floating in my bedroom. Every single one of them has this creepy smile drawn on. I tried to call the cops, but my phone is dead. I could have sworn I plugged it in last night.

I can hear them laughing at me through the covers. My arm burns. I think it’s swollen too.

I don’t know how long I’ve been under here. I keep dozing in and out. I’m starving, but those fucking things are still there. I tried to get out of my bedroom, but they swarmed me and I dove back under my covers.

I took the bandage off of my arm. It’s not even covering the wound anymore. The burn itself takes up my entire forearm, and my whole arm is yellow like an old bruise and so swollen that I can’t even bend it. It smells as badly as it burns.

I heard someone knocking. My whole body is so swollen that I can barely move. It took all of my energy just to roll onto my stomach so I could write. I don’t know if the balloons took away my blanket or if I kicked it off at some point. They are on top of me now. I can feel them covering my back and legs. They’re so warm.

I think I’ll die here. Maybe the balloons will float me away.

To the offices of Dr. Verland,

First, I’d like to thank you.

I was skeptical when you insisted that your serum would make me better. I realize now that it was working even when I thought it was making things worse. My mind and body had to break before they could become stronger. I know that now.

I thought the balloons were threatening. I thought they were terrifying. I know now that they were watching, waiting not for the time to strike, but the time to act.

While my body swelled, stretching further than I thought possible, I prayed for mercy. I prayed for the strength to get me through pain worse than I had ever felt. I didn’t realize until I began to deflate that I was granted both.

I barely recognize myself in the mirror. My malleable yellow skin and razor sharp teeth are rather unsettling to look at, but my transformation will prove quite useful.

You see, my floating friends didn’t just give me physical gifts.

I know who you really are. I know what you’re doing. Your whole foundation will fall faster than a popped balloon.

[haninging-blog]

teaching in korea: step 1

1. pre-applying

before filling out the application or asking some references to write a letter of recommendation, you need to think about yourself for a little bit.

there are a lot of people (and i mean A LOT) coming to teach in south korea for the “wrong” reasons. here are some questions to ask yourself that you really need to answer. i urge you to be honest to yourself -- blatantly, unbiasedly honest.

do you like teaching?

why do you want to come to south korea?

how long do you plan on staying in south korea?

where do you want to live in south korea and why?

do you have the money to do this?

do you like teaching?

EPIK stands for “english program in korea”, meaning that you will be, obviously, teaching in south korea. it may seem redundant to point this out, but there are many cases of people rejecting a job offer because they weren’t placed in their preferred location (mostly seoul), leaving during orientation because it finally hit them that this is a job and not paid vacation, and people even dip out in the middle of the night within the first couple of months of working without even saying anything to their school or to EPIK.

to avoid being in any of those situations, you need to think about if you actually like teaching. if the answer is “yes” then move onto the next question. if the answer is “no”, let’s talk about it.

do you have teaching and/or tutoring experience and genuinely hate it? then do not apply to EPIK, because teaching is all you’re going to do. do you not have teaching and/or tutoring experience and you do not know if you would like or hate it? then think of situations where you’ve have to teach someone something (how to cook, dance, etc.) and assess whether you enjoyed do it or not. if the answer is no, then you probably won’t enjoy being an english teacher. if the answer is yes, then why not try it out?

why do you want to come to south korea?

there could be a range of answers, anywhere from something simple (you like k-pop) to something some complex (you are a south korean adoptee and wish to learn about the place you came from). in orientation, or even in kakaotalk group chats, you’ll learn that the reason for people picking south korea over any other country is really diverse… and you’ll also notice that some people want to come to south korea for some odd reasons.

story time 1. there is someone who is a current EPIK teacher who lives in the southern part of the country and travels to seoul practically every weekend just to sit in a cafe near an entertainment agency and wait for their idol to pass by. through her actions and the way she talks about korean celebrities (and her lack of enthusiasm in regards to teaching), i think it’s safe to assume the only reason she came to south korea was to stalk her favorite celebrities. do you think wanting to stalk celebrities is an ok reason to live and work in south korea? i pray that you answered no.

story time 2. there is someone who is a current EPIK teacher who is absolutely obsessed with japan and has stated repeatedly in separate occasions that japan is better than south korea, that south korea stole a lot of food, culture, and other items from japan, and has said that the only reason that they applied to EPIK was because the JET program is harder to get into and korea is close to japan so they can travel there whenever they want. they also want to use japan as a topic for lesson plans. now, there is nothing wrong with having a preference, but if you know the history between korea and japan, then you know why these statements are absolutely absurd and blatantly offensive. do you think it is alright to be completely ignorant of korea’s history and unabashedly promote japan (a brutal colonizer of korea) in lesson plans and in everyday life? i hope you answered no.

in my opinion, it doesn’t matter if the reason you want to live and work in south korea is “shallow” at first (hell, my initial reason was because i think the language is pretty and the food is amazing). but, i do think you should do research on the country and figure out more things than just something as basic as “food” (and probably in most people’s cases, the music). i also think that if your reason is harmful or offensive (reference the stories above), then please do not come to korea. the next few questions are less serious, so let’s get into them.

how long do you plan on staying in south korea?

this question won’t make or break you, but it’s great to plan ahead for multiple reasons. if you only want to stay in south korea for a year or two, your preparations are going to be a lot different than someone planning on staying for five years (we’ll get into how to prepare in later guides). whoever interviews you will more than likely ask you this question, too, so it’s good to have an answer. know what you want out of the experience, or at least what you hope to learn and how you hope to grow.

where do you want to live in south korea and why?

from my experience, around 70% of applicants want to live in seoul and put seoul down for their preference. however, seoul is just one city in korea; there are plenty more with a lot of culture and things to do. do some research on different cities and different districts, find things to fall in love about different places and locations. now, i’m not telling you to not try for seoul, but i also want to warn you that not that many people get their preference (and, as stated at the beginning of this gude, some people even reject a job offer from EPIK because they didn’t get seoul). if it’s either seoul or nothing for you, perhaps go back to the question “why do you want to come to south korea?” and think about it again.

do you have the money to do this?

this entire process is not only stressful, but it is also expensive. applying to EPIK is free, but gathering all of your documents, doing your TEFL (if you don have a teaching degree), applying for your visa, getting a plane ticket, phone plans, packing, moving, exchanging money to have korean cash on you, the medical exam at orientation, storing your things you are leaving in your home country, buying things for your korean apartment... it all costs money. i recommend having AT LEAST 3,000usd to work with -- you could need more or less, it depends on your situation, but this is what i had to work with. i’ll make a whole other post about money and the expenses of the application process later, but you should know now what you’re getting yourself into. 

now that you’ve thought about your intentions, let’s talk about starting your application.

there are two ways to go about the application process: directly through EPIK or with a recruiter. there are pros and cons to both, but it’s really up to whatever you think would work best for you.

going directly through EPIK

pros:  - your application typically gets processed faster (in regards to the actual application, interview, documents, and placement) - you actually get to meet your EPIK coordinator

cons:  - if you have any random questions (before you get a coordinator), you’re on your own - if you are the kind of person that needs someone to guide them and hold their hand (before you get a coordinator), you’re on your own

going through a recruiter

pros:  - they can help you on your application, a practice interview + tips, and double check your documents - some have pre-orientation orientations where you can get sim cards and open up a bank account - if you don’t get a job with EPIK, some will help you get a different job in korea (still primarily teaching-focused)

cons:  - a recruiter is a middleman to the middleman, so things will progress slower (EPIK is the middleman between you and DOE/NIIED (department of education / national institute for international education development))

there may be more pros and cons depending on your circumstances and your own personal needs (as well as pros and cons between different recruiters), so i urge you to do your own research. i went direct and had no problems at all (and actually prefered going direct), but i have had friends say that they really liked going through their recruiter and wouldn't have done it any other way! there are arguments for both ways, it is just up to what will work for you.  

here is a list of some recruiters and links to their websites: 

Korvia https://www.korvia.com/

Korean Horizons https://www.koreanhorizons.com/

Reach to Teach https://www.reachtoteachrecruiting.com/

CIEE https://www.ciee.org/

TEFLUK https://www.tefluk.com/

Greenheart https://greenhearttravel.org/program/adult/teach/teach-in-south-korea

Canadian Connections https://www.canconx.com/

Gold Key Education http://www.goldkeyeducation.com/GKE/WelcomePage.html

please remember that you are your own person and can do whatever you want; don’t let some stranger on the internet (aka me) tell you how to live your life. the purpose of this guide is simply to help you make an informed decision on whether or not to apply to the EPIK program. the entire process is long, stressful, and can wear you down. if your heart isn’t in it, then it isn’t worth going through the trouble of applying and dropping loads of money on something you don’t even really want to do.

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

.|faith

Dawn had barely broken when Laelia heard hammering at her door. 

“Doctor! Please! There’s an emergency, please-- please open up--!”

What would have usually been a slow and drowsy process of waking up came instantaneously; she didn’t even pause to wonder where Lucius might be at this hour. The only pause she took was one to haphazardly throw some clothes onto her bare form, tripping over herself as she hopped into her boots and ran to the door. Outside was one of the young girls from the village - a sweet faced Highlander named Elouise - with big eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry, it’s so early and they told me not to come, but--” 

“What’s going on?” Laelia asked, soft but urgent, touching the girl’s cheek and then her arm as she leaned down some to look at her. The girl sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“My big brother-- he’s been sick for two days now but my mama told me not to get a doctor. A couple of priests of Nald’thal h-have been praying over him b-but it isn’t doing anything! H-He’s just getting worse!” the girl wailed, collapsing into the front of Laelia’s shirt. She embraced Elouise, squinting up at the house on the hill that she’d run down from. Yes, there’d been a lot of activity going on over there for the past couple of days, but she hadn’t thought anyone was ill... 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Elouise,” Laelia replied, trying to calm the child. “Come inside while I gather my supplies, and tell me what’s going on with your brother. Okay? The more I know before I get there, the faster I can make my assessment.” 

The Highlander came toppling in quickly after Laelia’s invitation. She was almost already as tall as the fully grown Garlean woman, and only at nine years old. She blinked a few tears out of her eyes and sat in the Tonberry chair behind Laelia’s desk as the woman went about gathering a variety of medical supplies, listening closely to what the child had to say.

“W-Well... He said a couple of days ago that his belly was really hurting, and then he had a fever that has just kept going up and up. H-He’s been throwing up and he has an upset belly but he said his belly hurts so much that he can’t g-get out of bed... All sweaty and groaning in pain...” 

Laelia bit the inside of her cheek, looking to the surgical instruments sitting inside of her dresser in their metal case. Yanking open a drawer, she grabbed an assortment of medications. The rest of what she needed were already packed in her bag. The chirurgeon hauled it over her shoulder and hurried back into the main living area, gesturing for Elouise to get up and follow her outside. 

“I think I know what’s wrong. A couple of days, you said?” Laelia asked, glancing over to the child as they hurried up the hill to the humble house that sat atop it. The girl nodded furiously in reply and pushed the wooden door open. From the entryway of the three room house, Laelia could hear the chanting of the priests, smell the heady scent of the burning incense, and she grimaced. 

“Elouise! Is that you? Where did you go--” 

A towering Highlander woman emerged from one of the rooms, her hair done intricately in braids that spilled over her shoulders. Her dark skin seemed to glow in the light of the sun streaming in, and her eyes narrowed at the much more petite doctor, immediately drawing her arms in to her sides and straightening herself up as her jaw tensed.

“You aren’t needed here,” she said shortly. “Elouise, why are you bringing this woman here? We don’t need her help. The gods will help us.” 

“He isn’t getting better, mama,” the child said tearfully. “Big brother isn’t getting any better with all of the prayers! I thought... I thought the doctor might know something about how to help him...” 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry for the intrusion, but from what your daughter is describing to me, your son has a ruptured appendix -- or one that is very close to rupturing. There are a hundred other complications that can come with a ruptured appendix if it isn’t treated--”

“I said that you aren’t needed!” the woman said, her voice booming and angry. 

Laelia’s jaw set, and she looked to the room where the smoke from the incense was streaming. The voices of the priests were so loud she was surprised that she hadn’t heard them the night before. Perhaps they were growing more earnest the worst the young man got. Laelia knew this family. The father -- an Ala Mhigan -- had left to fight for the liberation of their nation against her own people and had not yet returned, with no word of where or if he was. The boy, a young man of just eighteen, was named Nef. He was training to be a warrior just like his father, was the primary breadwinner for the family. What would happen to them if something happened to him?

“I have to insist... Please. I agree that faith has a time and a place, but I have to believe the gods want us to be self sufficient to some degree--”

“Those of weak faith are those of weak heart. You think they can’t heal my child?” the woman shouted, growing more agitated by the second.

“I think that they won’t,” Laelia replied, looking back up to the woman. “Because some issues are mortal ones, and mortal ones alone. Would you go looking for Elouise if she was missing, or would you wait for the gods to deliver her home? Come now, Rainah. I know... I know you don’t trust me, or like me. You don’t have to trust me as a person or like me as a person. But I promise to you that I can save your son’s life, and that I will. Trust me as a doctor. Please.” 

“Mama,” Elouise said weakly, tugging on her mother’s arm. Suddenly, a wail of pain came from the incense-filled room, heartbreaking in its agony. Rainah’s eye’s widened, and she looked between the doorway to her daughter, lips parted. One could practically hear the gears working in her head. 

“W-...What did you say he has? A ruptured appendix?” 

“Yes. I believe he does-- I can’t be sure without an examination. But if he does, and it continues to go untreated, he may have an infection that turns into a worse infection. It could kill him, Rainah, very easily. To be honest with you, if it’s been forty eight hours then I’m surprised he’s alive still to begin with.”

“He’s a fighter,” she whispered. “Just like his father.” 

“I am insisting that you let me attend to your son. He will die if I don’t operate, Rainah! I can assure you of that,” Laelia said, an unfamiliar edge to her voice and foreign steel in her gaze. 

Even long after the priests were cleared out of the boy’s bedroom, the scent of their incense lingered, burning Laelia’s nostrils. It was difficult to perform any surgery alone, and so she had sent Elouise out to grab one of the mothers in the village who knew the most about medicine and first aid to assist her. There was no anaesthesia to give Nef, and she was out of the heavy sedation and pain medication she usually had until later that night. He had to suffer it through with whiskey alone. Not Laelia’s preferred method, of course, but it worked in a pinch. A really big pinch. 

“Okay,” Laelia said, wiping her brow on her shoulder as she slowly and carefully stitched the boy’s abdomen back up. “As I was worried about, an infection developed since we waited so long to remove the appendix. The surgery should have taken about an hour, but I needed some extra time to remove the infected tissue in his abdomen. I’ll give him some medication to help prevent any further infection and have pain medication for him by this evening, at the latest.” 

Rainah had sent Elouise out of the room, but she had stubbornly stayed to watch organs and tissue removed from her son’s abdomen, silent the entire time. The Mi’qote woman working across from Laelia and assisting her was a quiet helper, doing as she was told and making a valiant effort to not look repulsed by all of the blood that soaked the blue gloves Laelia had told her to put on after scrubbing up.

Now, Nef lay on his bed, still groaning in pain and covered in sweat. Blearily he opened his eyes to watch the doctor strip off her gloves and smile at the Mi’qote, thanking her for her help. 

“An angel came down to help me,” he said weakly, and Rainah jumped, looking over to him as he spoke coherently for the first time in twenty four hours. Laelia glanced over and smiled, walking to his bedside. 

“Just... stay still and try not to talk for now, Nef. Once the whiskey wears off, there’s going to be a period where you’re in a lot of pain. Save your strength for that, alright? I’m going to change and then come back to monitor you. A couple of your friends ran to Ul’dah for me to bring me sedatives and medication. They’ll help you out once they get here with the discomfort.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering closed again. 

“...Thank you,” Rainah echoed, her voice quiet. Laelia was in the process of disinfecting her instruments -- though the bulk of it would need to be done back home -- when the woman spoke, and she looked up at her.

“For saving him. I... It’s the way we’ve been raised, all of us in this village. Don’t trust medicine. If faith can’t heal you, then... maybe you weren’t meant to be healed. Maybe you are some sort of... otherworldly being. Maybe you were the one who was sent to save him.”

“I wouldn’t overthink it,” Laelia replied, her voice gentle once again. “I’m no creature sent by a divine being. I’m just...” She looked to the boy on the bed. “This is what I have always wanted to do. Help other people.”

Rainah and her shared a silence, the doctor closing her eyes as she leaned against the rough-hewn wooden table by the window. She was grateful for the bright sunlight streaming in to make the surgery easier. Surgery by candlelight was always more uncertain. It was warm on her skin, seeping down into her bones. Since the first time she’d woken up, it felt like she could breathe again. A holy thing, the sun. Maybe she ought to thank Azeyma for the blessing.

The thought almost made her laugh. Who was she to debate faith? She, a Garlean, raised on the backbone of science and war and control. The only faith one had in Garlemald was in the Emperor, the most divine in all the nation. But... she liked the thought of higher powers -- ones made of benevolence and love. Maybe just one? She wasn’t sure what to make of faith in the sense of otherworldly beings. The idea, though, of something bigger than these people and these creatures that roamed upon a planet, was both terrifying and comforting to the medicus. She had seen even the staunchest of Garlean atheists praying when their loved ones were on the operating table.

There are no atheists in a foxhole. 

“Was I irresponsible?” 

The trembling question broke the silence, and Laelia opened her eyes to see Rainah staring down at her son. 

“Was I irresponsible for not seeking a doctor for him?”

“...No,” Laelia replied, shaking her head. “You did what you thought was best for your child, Rainah. It is difficult to unlearn what has been taught to us since we were born. I won’t tell you that prayer doesn’t help. I don’t know that. But what I do know is medical science, and practice. And I know that you made the right decision in letting me in here. Thank you for letting me do this.” 

“You have no right to thank me,” the Highlander woman snapped, wiping a tear from her cheek. “If Elouise hadn’t come to you, he would have... we would have lost him... let him go to Nald’thal.” 

“Your son is alive, Rainah,” Laelia said earnestly, leaning forward some and focusing her gaze on the mother. “Alive, and a fighter, just like you said. He’ll recover quickly. I know it hurts, the idea of ‘what if’... but ‘what if’ didn’t happen,” Laelia added, watching the woman from across the room. “It’s gone. It’s over. ‘What if’ doesn’t exist anymore.”

She had heard this a thousand times; the strings of ‘what if’s’ coming from family members of her patients. What if I had done this or that differently... What if we hadn’t come right at this moment... What if he hadn’t told us something was wrong right when he did... What if, what if, what if? 

“Have faith that you made the right decision,” Laelia added with a half smile. “Have faith that you’ll be able to do it again.”

“There are...” Rainah’s eyes darted to Laelia and away again, “...still good people in this world. For so long, my family has only known strife... tax collectors, loan sharks, Brass Blades who only take from us... the Garleans who took my husband’s homeland and way of life. But you... You remind us. There are still good people. How do I repay you?”

“By remembering that there are still good people,” Laelia replied, looking to Nef on the bed before looking to his mother. “And... by knowing how grateful I am that you count me among them.” 

The Garleans who took my husband’s homeland and way of life.

I was not one of them, Rainah. And I am so sorry. If my people have taken your husband... then the least I can do is make sure that you keep your son.

[kristinebritney]

Pre-Stem Cell Harvest Thoughts

Forgive me for this long post as I have nothing else to do in the hospital but to wait until my stem cells can be harvested. I am on Day 15 at the hospital and hopefully soon, my stem cells can be harvested already then after a month, the stem cell transplant will happen. I have so many thoughts going on in my head that sometimes I could not sleep.

Will I beat cancer again?

Can my body handle all the toxic chemicals being infused for me to get better?

Will I ever not worry about cancer coming back?

Can my family ever recover from this sickness?

Why is it so hard to beat cancer?

When will I get out of this hospital?

When will I go back to work?

When does the suffering end?

Diagnosis

Being diagnosed the first time was the worst day of my life. And being diagnosed the second time around is the hardest and also the worst day of my life. Just after putting all my efforts in rebuilding my life, cancer struck me out of nowhere. I knew I had to be vigilant that’s why I never let a simple pain be forgotten. That’s how life is after cancer. I feel like I am walking on eggshells – I have to be careful not to trigger anything. What triggers cancer anyway? We wouldn’t know. I still don’t know. Since I got better, I have been living a somewhat “stress-free” life. My family and friends are very kind to not let me stress over simple things. I admit, I still eat what I want but I do it in moderation.

The second time I was diagnosed, my first thought was, “What about my work?” Back in 2016, I had to take a 6-month leave to finish my chemotherapy. Some people can still work while having chemo. Me, I can’t even walk on my own that time. I am so fortunate that the company I am staying with is very considerate with regards to my case. The support of my colleagues all over the world were tremendous! When I came back to work on January 2017, I still had to do radiations so what I did was to wake up at 5:00AM then proceed to the hospital so that I can start radiation by 7:00AM, finished by 8:15AM, get to work by 9:30AM just in time for my 10:00AM shift. That was a routine for 19 days straight. I was so relieved that finally, I am done with the treatments!!!! Now, my company is again very gracious to allow me to take a leave again for me to get better. I was devastated to take a leave because I was starting to work on a project, but I had to let it go as health is my priority. Back in my mind, I am feeling guilty for leaving my colleagues for an indefinite time and passing on my work to them. But deep down, I am so thankful for their understanding. I am relieved when they say “Don’t worry, just focus on your health and we’ll see you soon” all the time. You see, it is important for a cancer patient to still look forward for work. This motivates me to heal faster and get back on my feet the soonest.

Having Cancer in the Philippines

Coming from a middle-class family, earning my own money is a big deal. Just a few weeks after graduation, I started working and earning my own money to fund everything I want and need. I was financially independent. I’m not earning a huge amount, but it was enough to live a comfortable life.

My first diagnosis, we were told to prepare PhP750,00.00 for chemotherapy alone (not including other complications of chemo – which I had) I was unfortunately diagnosed with the expensive type of Lymphoma. I don’t even have enough savings to fund 1 cycle of chemotherapy.

My second diagnosis, a stem cell transplant is the recommended second line treatment for relapse in Lymphoma which costs around PhP 2.5 Million. Basically, I will be having an autologous stem cell transplant in which my own stem cells will be harvested, a high dose chemo will be given to kill the cancer cells, then my stem cells will return to me. Seems easy, right? But no, I had to undergo a total of 4 high dose chemo because the transplant can only be successful if I am in Partial or Complete Remission.

We were given two choices -  to go with stem cell transplant or just go with 6 cycles of chemo. In comparison, stem cell transplant has the highest chance of cure compared with chemo alone. However, neither of them guarantees the cancer won’t come back. I asked helped from my friends in making a decision and one answer struck me the most, “No matter what the cost, I would do anything to increase my chances of living.” Although we do not have the money for the transplant, my parents never hesitated to push through with the procedure. “We will make it work,” they said. And for the past months, we did make it work through the help of so many angels.

I have joined many Lymphoma support groups all over the world and I am jealous of their health care system. They don’t have to worry about the cost of the transplant. Having a stem cell transplant in their country is not a question. It’s part of the procedure. While here in the Philippines, you have to think about it because it is not easy to shell out PhP 2.5M.

Here in the Philippines, PCSO gives medical assistance whether you are rich or poor. I believe that when one of your family member has cancer, it will always drain your savings. Processing PCSO guarantee letters is definitely not a walk in the park. I am lucky enough to have a brother and sister-in-law to process my papers instead of me going to PCSO. Imagine how many sick people line up as early as 3:00AM for them to secure the golden ticket in the form of a guarantee letter or medicines. It would take up your whole day! For some people, PCSO is their best way to survive the costly chemotherapy.

Miracles and New Beginnings

I would sometimes wonder what it would feel like to not ever worry about money which is an impossible world. Everyone worries about money. I remember telling my mom that with all the medical expenses we incurred, we could be millionaires right now. But then she told me, “None of them was ours. They were all given and donated for you to get better” Then it hit me how so many people are always willing to help. When I needed my first chemo immediately, my mom’s brother and friends willingly gave us money. When the bill was too high to be paid in cash, my mom’s friend went to the hospital and swiped her credit card. When there was a problem with my health card, my dad’s friends did everything to get it approved. Whenever we are about to be discharged from the hospital, help from my colleagues and friends would always come. I remember a dear friend of mine giving me P50,000.00 just because they have extra blessings in their family. Colleagues from Manila, Amsterdam, and Singapore pooled funds to help me with my medical bills. I receive so many messages saying that the only thing they can do for me is pray. Please know that prayers mean everything! I am blessed to have so many prayer warriors. I am deeply touched with the help I’ve been receiving. Even until now, my friends haven’t stopped creating fundraising events for my transplant. Miracles are indeed everywhere. You just have to stop and realize them.

Series of events led us to losing our house at the same time while I am battling cancer. It was heartbreaking. I kept on thinking why does these have to happen at the same time? With God’s grace, we were able to find a new place to stay immediately – as if it was handed to us without any glitches. I take this struggle as God’s way of telling us to start something new. I read a quote saying “You cannot heal in the same environment where you got sick” so maybe this is my new beginning.

Waiting Patiently

I am currently on my 15th day of confinement. I had 5 days of intensive chemo and now that my white blood cell count is down to 0.15, we are waiting for it to shoot up, so the stem cell harvest can be done. The waiting game is not easy. My counts are low, hence, I had a platelet transfusion and will be having a blood transfusion in a bit. I currently have a fever. My electrolytes are low too. For the past few days, some of you may know that I feel a bit down. I feel like I am not as strong as before when I was first battling cancer. I feel like I am so tired from everything. I just want to go home. But of course I will not stop fighting. I have so many angels standing with me in this fight and I won’t let them down.

I recently had a chat with one of the nurses that will handle my transplant. He was so informative because he told me what I should expect. Hearing his stories scared me. He said that when stem cells are transplanted back to me, I will experience a 40-degree fever, problems with the GI tract (this one is what I’m scared of the most), stomach pains, unable to eat anything to the point that my nourishments have to be given thru IV, that familiar feeling of weakness due to chemo but this time, it is more intense. The good news is, this will not last forever. I just have to endure the pain for a few days or weeks. But I admit, knowing these scared me so much that I had to cry to my parents.

I am almost there! I am wishing and hoping that I will be cured and cancer will never ever come back for my family.

[backstrom-for-selke]

My Chronic Pain Story

TRIGGER WARNING: death, serious injury, surgery, sexual harassment/assault, drug use (painkillers, marijuana), depression, suicide, weight shaming

I had just started getting back into the one thing in my life that made me feel truly happy: horseback riding. I had a job and my own car, so I was able to pay for lessons once a week and drive myself out to the stable I rode at. I was excelling faster than I ever had in my monthly on-and-off lessons since I was a young girl. Gone were the days when I would stare in envy at the rich girls who could afford to ride every day (some who complained about it, even) because I was putting myself first. I was paying my way through my own hobbies. It was my first taste of real independence.

Every Christmas and birthday, I would ask for checks to go toward extra lessons or a new pair of boots or a new helmet. I was obsessed with this, like many girls my age, but as I got older, I didn’t grow out of it. It’s a love that I still feel, and I have to say, there is nothing like mourning the loss of the one place in your life that you feel at peace. For me, that was in the saddle.

I fractured my spine just two weeks past my 17th birthday. It was one of the worst days of my life even beyond the obvious reason; my car broke down, I was late for school, I had one of my first panic attacks, and I was 45 minutes late for my lesson (because of the car breaking down) which cut me down to just half an hour of riding time (out of the kindness of my instructor’s heart). 

I finally arrived on a blustery March afternoon to a fully tacked, 19hh Percheron/Thoroughbred cross, grandson of Secretariat, and the same horse I had been riding in the last three weeks of bi-weekly lessons, and from the moment I got on, I knew something was wrong. He was usually a relatively excitable horse, but he had his ears pinned back and was prancing around like he was some sort of show pony - not at all the hefty horse I was used to riding. 

We usually started out at a walk, but Indy (the horse) had other ideas and broke out at a lively trot. Clouds were rolling in, and if I recall correctly, there was a snowstorm on the way. He shied away from the gate halfway down the long part of the arena, so my instructor figured he might be acting weird because of the weather, so we started him heading toward the barn (the other direction). He shied from the other gate, too, but this time, he took off at a full gallop down the center of the arena, blowing past jumps set up in the middle and heading straight for the other end. 

I remained relatively calm. This wasn’t the first time I had ridden a spooked horse, but it had been a while, and I was already having a terrible day. In hindsight, I should have stayed home because horses are emotional creatures; they can feel what you’re feeling, and my foul mood likely didn’t help matters at all. We had recently practiced an emergency stop where you hold both the reins in one hand and tug as hard as you can with the other on one side, forcing the horse to turn his head and body abruptly. I tried it. Several times. He didn’t budge. 

I stayed on relatively well until he took an abrupt turn to the right. I only had one safety stirrup on (I lived in the middle of nowhere, and I was lucky to even have one), and thank god it was on the foot that got stuck. As I was coming out of the saddle, my foot got stuck, and I did the splits mid-air, but I don’t remember this part. I don’t remember much at all from it, really.

What I do remember is seeing the ground rising to meet my face, a hard hit against my shoulder as I braced for impact, and then nothing. I remember thinking, even as I was heading for the ground, that this was my fault for being stubborn and riding that day. At no point did I blame the instructor - or even the horse - for the accident. I knew how empathetic horses were, and I got on anyway. I was at fault. 

For those who don’t ride, it’s common practice to sign a liability waiver before beginning lessons with any instructor or school. It basically says that if you are injured or die during your lessons, your instructor can’t be held liable for medical expenses/be legally responsible for it in any way. A common theme is that, “horses are unpredictable and thousand-pound creatures, and their actions can result in injury or death” and that we “ride at [our] own risk”. 

I remember each of those contracts that I and my mother signed, and I always took it to heart because it made sense: the instructor in no way pushed me beyond what I was capable of, nor did they intentionally spook the horse. They were no more at fault than the horse was for following its instincts. I, however, should have known better. 

I came to on the ground seconds later with my legs in front of me and an unbearable pain in my back. I screamed about it hurting, and I knew to immediately try to wiggle my toes to make sure I wasn’t paralyzed. I wasn’t. I took a breath of relief, but that didn’t negate the pain at all. After the panic was gone and my instructor was rushing toward me, I stopped screaming and listened to her tell me that her husband was on his way with the truck. She knew that an ambulance ride was a private expense and likely wouldn’t be covered by insurance - she also knew that an ambulance likely wouldn’t be able to get out to where we were, so we were on our own for getting to the hospital. 

This was the point that my parents had the most problems with, and in hindsight, we probably should have called the ambulance anyway, but given the dire situation and the pain fogging my judgment, I can see how we would come to this solution. I was scared. I was so scared. And at some point after walking to the truck at a 90 degree angle (I couldn’t stand up straight) and sitting myself in the pickup truck, I found my coping mechanism: a sense of humor. 

My stepdad and toddler sister had gone to Burger King for dinner, and I called them just as they had ordered. 

“Hey, [name], I’m going to the hospital,” I said into the phone between groans of pain. “I hurt my back.” 

“What? Seriously? We just ordered.” My stepdad said, and at the time, I was a little offended. You’re really worried about your food when I might’ve just broken my back?! In hindsight, again, I know that shock and grief can do strange things to a person, like making them worry over the little things to better cope with the bigger concern. Eventually, he agreed to meet me at the hospital and sounded as panicked as I should have felt. I felt oddly calm. 

Next, I called my mother. She was 30 minutes away in my hometown, and was much more panicked than my stepfather. I don’t recall what our words were. 

Then, I called one of the students in the play I was a part of, joking, “I don’t think I’m going to make it to rehearsal tonight,” I said, and I’m pretty sure I was smiling. 

“Why?” They asked of the cryptic greeting. I told them, and they all wished me well. It still didn’t quite feel real even though the crippling pain was very, very real. 

When we got to the hospital, my stepdad was waiting for us. My instructor had called ahead to make sure we could park at the emergency (ambulance) entrance, and she ran in to get a wheelchair for me. When we got inside, my stepdad was panicking because he didn’t have my insurance information handy. The office staff tried to make me wait until a kind nurse came along and demanded that I be put in a room to start examining me. I was still vocalizing with groaning sounds in pain. This is one of only two times I have been in this much pain in my life. 

Once we got into a room, a nurse offered to help me undress. I told her I was fine, that I’d be slow, but I could do it. I also joked that I had a MAJOR wedgie, and proceeded to pull my cotton underwear straight out of my ass in front of her. Looking back, you’d think I had already had the pain meds when you find out what that was all about. Shock can be a great painkiller.

I finally got into the bed and remember thinking that it was the fastest I had ever been processed in the ER, and I was wholly impressed with the speed at which the doctors attended to me. I was seen by two or three doctors relatively quickly, all rushing in at once. I was their most urgent patient, and it made me feel like a superstar - a nice distraction from the pain. 

They informed me that they couldn’t give me the morphine they wanted to give me until all my injuries had been diagnosed, and I groaned but agreed to this course of action. It would be four hours until I finally got painkillers. 

I was rushed in for a CT scan of my back and legs (I had complained of knee and shoulder pain, too). I had a few x-rays done, too, as I had blood on my face and a headache. The only injury they could find on the x-rays and CT scans were a broken nose and a broken vertebra. However, when they came to tell me about it, they said that the imaging was so identical on the T11-T12 that they wanted to do a repeat scan to rule out a shadow on the machine. 

It wasn’t a shadow; I had broken both vertebrae. 

My mother and sister arrived in the time I was in the CT scan, and they were there when I called my dad to tell him what happened. They left shortly after to get food. (I told them this was alright - I wasn’t going anywhere, I said.)

Sometime while I was alone, a woman popped in from behind the cloth divider, asking me what I was “in for”. I was still audibly groaning in pain, but I managed a smile and told her. She said she would pray for me, and that she was here for her mother who was having chest pains. I remember thinking that they should pay more attention to her, since my injuries weren’t life-threatening, just painful. 

By the time my mother and sister got back with food and ate, the doctors moved me off the back board and onto the regular bed. 

“Are you on your period?” They asked with concern. 

“No,” I replied, confused. 

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” Fuck if I knew. Luckily, my mother and I were just about synced up, so she replied, “about two weeks ago.” That sounded right, I confirmed. 

I was bleeding heavily from “down there” (in addition to pissing my pants thanks to a bodily reflex to losing consciousness). 

In perhaps the most traumatizing exam of my life, a male doctor stuck one finger into my vagina and one into my anus, and the pain was excruciating in addition to being humiliating and my first experience with anything “up there”. I sobbed and screamed as it happened, and my mother held my hand while it happened and reassured me it would be over soon. My carefree attitude didn’t really pick up again until after I got my morphine an hour or two later. 

That massive “wedgie” I mentioned to the nurse when I was admitted was actually my underwear tearing my skin from my vagina almost to my anus almost down to the colon wall. My back didn’t require surgery, they said, but I would need surgery that night to repair the damage down there and stop the bleeding. I finally got painkillers four hours after I was admitted, and was sent to surgery about two hours later. 

Perhaps the worst part about this experience, physical pain aside, is something I vividly remember the doctor saying to me: 

“Compression fractures heal very well. You won’t need surgery to repair it or physical therapy. In fact, you probably won’t have any chronic pain at all.” 

I made it through surgery fine and was put back into my room in the wee hours of the morning. My mom slept in a chair, and my stepdad took my sisters home. 

At seven in the morning - less than six hours after I had been put in my room for the night, a nurse burst in demanding that I urinate. I told her my bladder was empty. She berated me for not being willing to try, so I got up and sat on the toilet fruitlessly until telling her again that it was empty. She brought in an ultrasound machine to make sure it wasn’t a lack of sensation, and sure as shit, to her surprise, my bladder was empty. Another relief, in part, that I hadn’t lost sensation of my bladder in the fracture of my spine. 

I was finally discharged around lunchtime that day (it was a Saturday) with a prescription for painkillers and an order to rest to recover. 

My mother woke me up for school on Monday. I couldn’t believe it. I told her I literally just broke my back on Friday night, that I wasn’t ready for school yet. She (begrudgingly) let me stay home from school that day, but I was expected to go in on Tuesday. I did. 

I was confronted with rumors that I had been shot, in a car accident, or in an argument with a friend. I brushed them all off as jokes. I completed my play that spring after spending 6 weeks in a back brace, and spent the remaining 3 months of school on prescription painkillers. 

At the end of that 3 months, I told my doctor that I didn’t want to keep taking these painkillers due to the risk of addiction. I told her that I was concerned that I was still in enough pain to need them, and that I wanted to get to the bottom of it. She referred me to a neurosurgeon an hour and a half away at the nearest large hospital. We spent a long time going back and forth to that doctor.

He told us at first that most insurance companies wouldn’t approve any sort of imaging or surgery until at least 6 weeks of physical therapy were completed. I agreed to go, figuring that it couldn’t hurt. 

I saw a local physical therapist that I never quite felt comfortable with. He was younger, and the dad of a kid in my school (a few grades below me), but something always felt off about him, particularly when I was practicing my exercises in front of him. It was summer, so I usually showed up in gym shorts and a tank top. He gave lots of oiled massages and used a TENS unit at the start of our sessions, and spent a lot of time behind me when I was practicing my exercises. 

A few weeks in, I felt an erection against my ass when he was performing a chiropractic maneuver. This was my first experience with an erection as I was still a virgin. I questioned it for a few days, and told myself it was something else entirely while I was still there, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back. It only validated the creepy vibes I got from him from the start. 

Luckily, it was just long enough for the insurance company to approve an MRI which found the beginnings of bone spurs, and most notably, that my T12 vertebra was in worse shape than when I broke it. It was deteriorating instead of healing, forming a giant chasm in the middle of the bone where there should be spongy bone. 

My surgeon said we had 3 options: 

1. a stressful, inpatient procedure with rods and pins and a 6 week inpatient recovery  period. 

2. an outpatient, minimally invasive procedure only requiring a small amount of medical-grade cement to fill in the gap

3. continue treating with existing measures and hope it gets better

Obviously, 3 was a no-go. He did tell us that it was possible it wouldn’t work, but he was “very confident” this would solve my residual pain. I felt that same confidence as I still had a great deal of trust in medical professionals at that time. We decided to go with option 2 because I had commitments at school that were coming up that winter (it was fall at this point), and my mother wasn’t sure about our ability to pay for a 6 week recovery time (and missing that much school). 

I’m not sure what happened behind the scenes with the insurance. I was too young to understand a lot of it. Hell, I still don’t understand it sometimes. We had to get a pre-authorization for this surgery, and all I know is that they called after I was dressed in a hospital gown and had peed in a cup to prove my virginal ass wasn’t pregnant (I joked with the nurse that I’d be having a Jesus if I were), and they got a hold of my doctor to tell us that it had been denied. 

This surgery was $20,000 without insurance. 

My mother looked down at me - I’ll never forget the look she gave me - like she was about to cry, and I don’t blame her. I would cry, too. I panicked, thinking I wasn’t going to get the surgery I needed to be pain-free. Instead, my mother surprised me by telling the doctor to do it anyway, that we would figure it out afterward. 

So I went under, and when I woke up, I was in a dark room, alone. The surgery didn’t take more than 45 minutes and went well, but it took me some time to be able to stay awake long enough to leave the hospital. My mom wheeled me out to the car. I told her I was hungry, so we stopped by Outback - a rare treat for us because of our rural hometown. 

I fell asleep at the table, no joke. I didn’t even make it to when the waiter introduced himself. My mother had to wake me up to get me to order my drink. I fell asleep again after that and woke up when the food got there. My mom took pictures (I don’t blame her - it was hilarious). The poor waiter probably thought my mom had drugged me. I wasn’t even awake long enough to know if she explained it to him. 

I ended up taking most of my meal home in a box, and I didn’t touch it. I slept for 18 hours that day, and my mom came in the next day to get me to go to school. I again told her I wasn’t ready (it was a Tuesday, I believe), and she (reluctantly) let me stay home but told me I was expected to go in Wednesday. I did. 

I had an emotional breakdown on the first day of school that year (earlier on) as my best friend from when I was a kid had died in a car accident. I cried about her and my back, and I think this was one of my early signs of pain-related depression. Breaking down in the middle of class was not my thing. I was the bubbly, goofy nerd, not the emotional crybaby. 

All along, my mom had promised me that once I was pain-free, I could ride again. I found out that winter that this was an empty promise. She told me I could ride again if I wanted, but that if anything happened, I would be the one responsible for the medical bills. That she wouldn’t pay for me to get hurt again. I understood where she was coming from, but I was incredibly hurt that she fell back on her promise. It was the first time she did that, but it wasn’t the last. 

By the next spring, we knew that the surgery hadn’t worked, but there was no more structural damage that could explain my pain. I was off to college, so it wasn’t feasible for me to continue treatment with that practice. 

I was at the point where the pain was interrupting my life by the time my freshman year started. I had to leave football games early, had to schedule my classes close together so I didn’t have to walk too long, and found myself in a great deal of pain if I stood for too long. At this point, laying down was still alright, as was sitting. It would not stay that way. 

I saw a doctor and was told I was just feeling pain because I was “depressed” and that a small dose of an antidepressant would help. It didn’t. When I went back, they said that they didn’t know what to do for me because there wasn’t anything physical wrong. I started biofeedback therapy (tricking your brain into thinking you’re not in pain), and continued that for a while until it, too, wasn’t working. 

Even though life was going pretty well - I had a great group of friends, my first boyfriend, my first kiss, good grades, I felt like I was falling apart beneath my perky mask. 

I fell into my worst depressive episode to date - and perhaps my first big sign of future issues - that spring. 

I broke up with my boyfriend in December after being compared to her for the greater part of our short-lived relationship. I started skipping a lot of classes, staying up way too late, and sleeping in until the early afternoon. I was still incredibly social and had a strong drive to see my friends, but absolutely no motivation to go to class to pursue my career. I couldn’t get myself out of bed, and I couldn’t sleep when it came to nighttime. I was also forced into a social light a lot of the time because of living in a dorm, so maybe all my socializing wasn’t completely motivated by me. 

I was also trying to push myself to be more social because for a little while, I did feel “normal” to some degree. I dressed up one night in a cute dress, tights, and a jacket with a pair of high heels to go play poker with my friends. My ex was there, and my friend and I were the only ones dressing up (because we felt good). 

My ex called me a slut/whore for dressing up. 

I wouldn’t say this was my trigger point, but it was a contributing factor to the steady decline that followed that spring. I had a cold at some point and had been prescribed cough syrup with codeine, and it got so bad on more than one occasion that I considered drinking the whole bottle. I had told myself that I would wait about half an hour and then go sit in the hallway because I had a single room and I didn’t want my body to sit in my room for days on end until I was found. I wanted someone to find me. 

Plus, I thought, I could get free tuition for whoever found me. Do a little good on my way out. 

Ultimately, I couldn’t bring myself to drink it, and reached out to my ex in a last desperate cry for help. He was a total ass about it and basically told me he was busy. 

I failed a lot of classes that spring, but was able to requalify for student loans by filing a claim that I had been depressed, resulting in my inability to attend classes. It was approved, and I planned to go back in the fall after meeting my now-husband at a party. 

Some time after I met my then-boyfriend, my ex expressed concern that I was leading him on and that I had misled him by helping him study for Chemistry (a class I had previously taken). I invited him over to talk it out because he was being pretty persistent about wanting to talk. 

He came over, we talked until 6am the next morning, during which I told him to leave to sleep before his final several times, but he refused each and every time. He later blamed me for failing it, and told our mutual friends that I didn’t let him sleep, further “evidence” that I had led him on and caused him to fail his studies. He dropped out and didn’t return. 

The following fall, I recovered well from my depressive episode, touting a 3.2 GPA that semester and generally enjoying my classes. I realized, however, that I had no real focus, and I was quickly falling into a hole with my education that I would have a hard time getting out of. When I started at the school, I was intending to go pre-med, and at this point, I was a psych major. Psychologists don’t get paid as much as doctors, and I couldn’t justify the cost of schooling any longer. 

So I left, and I moved in with my boyfriend. 

Washington state had legalized medical marijuana, and it remains one of the few things that has helped me in the treatment and management of my pain. I knew someone with their green card, so I had access and frequently smoked to deal with my pain. 

I got a job that spring - I was on my feet about six hours a day, and that sucked, but I was managing just fine. I didn’t have any additional suicidal spells. I started pursuing a cure for my pain again the following winter. I began physical therapy with a wonderful woman, and they recommended doing acupuncture concurrently. I followed all their recommendations with the promise from my doctor that after 6 weeks, if I was still in pain, I could have an MRI done to examine my spine again. 

Only, when I returned to that doctor, the doctor I had seen previously was unavailable due to an emergency surgery. They asked if it was alright if I saw a different doctor, and I thought sure, why not, the notes are all in my file about our plan. 

A young (male) doctor came in with a lot of energy and what I thought had been genuine concern on his face. It was not. I told him that I was still in pain, and that while the physical therapy helped with some pain in other places, it didn’t relieve my chief complaint of pain in my mid back where I fractured it. He began asking a lot of questions and told me that he didn’t think that I needed an MRI. He said that I was overweight (I was only about 20 lbs heavier than my lowest adult weight, by far not overweight), and that I needed to get into shape in order to cure my pain. I told him that I walked regularly, but much more than that caused serious flare-ups making it difficult to work out. He told me, basically, that it was bullshit and that I needed to work out vigorously. 

At that point, I began to cry. You’d think men would know by now not to comment on a woman’s weight, especially so aggressively. I said I just wanted to go, that I’d work out, whatever, just to let me go. He refused to let me out of the room, blocking the door and saying, “you’re not leaving until we figure this out.” 

I cried harder. I just wanted to go home and end this nightmare. He started asking about depression, asking if I wanted to kill myself. I told him that I was depressed in the past, but that I was fine now and my crying was because he wouldn’t let me go, not because of depression. 

He didn’t believe me, and insisted we sit and figure this out. At that point, I started to agree with him just to get him to let me go. I didn’t care what he was saying. Honestly, I don’t even remember what he did say or what I supposedly agreed to during that appointment. 

I was so traumatized by that appointment, that I couldn’t return to the office. I had an appointment scheduled with my regular doctor, but I couldn’t bring myself to go through the door. I told my amazing physical therapist about it, and she told me that he was a doctor that frequently worked with athletes, so he’s used to berating patients and being able to get away with it. I expressed my wonder that he was still in practice at all. 

It got to the point where I didn’t have a doctor treating my pain any longer, and when a $800 bill came from the physical therapy center for my treatments, I realized I couldn’t afford to go any longer. I was stuck “dealing” with it again. So I continued to self medicate, and once again, I suffered no depressive episodes during this time period. I actually felt alright. I felt like I was living a decent life. 

Washington state legalized recreational use of marijuana right as I was leaving the state. 

I moved to a state where it isn’t legal in any form - even to this day - and the difference in quality of life is night and day. Shortly after we moved here, I started my THIRD round of physical therapy which also resulted in no relief. I had an MRI, it showed that there was no physical problem with my spine. I was told at that point that it was likely psychological. I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t accept it. I had been through varying levels of psychiatric health, and my pain never changed. I had been in states of bliss and heartache, and it never changed. The only time it changed was my level of activity or position. I was hurting all the time, and no one believed me. 

I went to an urgent care clinic a few years ago and was lucky enough to see a doctor who actually seemed to care. He took an x-ray and said I had a smaller space than normal for my peripheral nerves to pass through, and that the irritation was causing an already inflamed nerve to swell up more, resulting in worse pain. He prescribed an anti-seizure medication frequently used for pain management, and my god, it worked like a charm. 

The only issue was that a month or two in, I started having terrifying episodes of a lapse in recognition of common places - the drive to work and work, primarily. One time, I recall walking into work and knowing in my brain that it was “work”, but not knowing where work was or where I even sat. My doctor (a CNP who was amazing and my biggest advocate for relief) stopped the medication immediately. 

In the months that followed, I tried everything. Muscle relaxers, anti-inflammatory drugs, anti depressants with secondary therapeutic use as pain relievers - we tried every drug out there. Rather than blaming it on my weight as all my other doctors had done, my doctor referred me to a pain specialist in the area. He said there wasn’t much we could do, but we could try an injection. I had the injection done, but it didn’t do much. After that, he basically told me there was nothing he could do. 

I was devastated. I’ve suffered numerous depressive episodes since leaving Washington, and even come close to suicide again. I’ve cried myself to sleep and curled up wishing I could die to end the pain. I’ve even wished I was paralyzed sometimes so that I wouldn’t feel anything - as misguided as that is.

I was so depressed at one point that my doctor gave me a prescription for 10 hydrocodone, emphasizing that she didn’t normally prescribe pain pills to anyone but terminally ill patients, but she said that she was afraid I was going to kill myself if I didn’t get some relief. I can’t tell you the weight that took off my shoulders. 

I made 10 pills last more than a year and a half - almost two. I had been out for a month or two when I went back to the urgent care clinic in serious pain - enough to drag me into the clinic in the first place. I saw a doctor who told me he used to work for the pain clinic I had gone to. He asked what I did to manage the pain. I told him I’ve tried everything, that I take ibuprofen/acetaminophen on mild days but it’s not a mild day. He asked if tramadol worked, I told him no. I told him about some sort of injection they gave me at the clinic one time. He said he didn’t think it would help. He told me to see a chiropractor (as if I hadn’t tried that), and I began crying and asked what I could do to relieve my pain now. 

He asked what worked. I told him that previously, I had been prescribed hydros. 

He immediately discredited me. He went on a long rant about how if they wrote scripts for narcotics (which I had gotten in THAT office, by the way) that they’d have “a line out the door” for them every day, that they couldn’t just be giving them out to just ANYONE. And get this - he actually wrote IN MY FILE that I was SEEKING DRUGS that day. Me, a woman with chronic back pain who had gone through TEN pills in over EIGHTEEN MONTHS. I was enraged. 

This was now a part of my medical record. It was permanent. I was pissed. I got some lousy anti-inflammatory from him, and I found myself in yet another situation where I was agreeing with what the doctor said just to get out of the room. 

I haven’t gone back to a doctor about my pain. I don’t know if I ever will unless we move. I know what works, but doctors are too blinded by the opiate crisis and the controversy over pain treatments to see that I know my body better than them. To see that I know what will work, but I can’t get it. I’m beyond frustrated at this point, and my mental health is seriously compromised by my terrifying experiences in an attempt to pursue a method of pain management within the confines of the law. 

I am seriously concerned for the day I get pregnant like I want to be because I know it will be hell on my back. I know that I will be in more pain than I ever have been. At least that pain will be worth it. 

My doctor wasn’t wrong when she said that she was worried I would kill myself if I didn’t get some relief for my back. I’m falling right back into that mindset as each year passes by that I continue to suffer without any option of even temporary relief. 

If you’ve read this far, thank you. Writing this has been therapeutic to me, and I hope it has been eye-opening into the horrors that sufferers of chronic pain have to go through just to be treated like they are humans instead of second-class addicts (in the medical industry’s eyes, not mine). I’ve paid tens of thousands of dollars towards treatments, and nothing has worked. Every day that I walk this earth is a miracle because I suffer through every minute of it. 

[simmonstrinity]

Reiki Healing For Beginners Easy And Cheap Diy Ideas

Fill the room with Reiki, and it flows freely from the course I took........The Reiki wanted to get a break, and come to terms with the practitioner, then lies on a massage I expect the practitioner to offer it for yours.This course is both a professional or expert in the garden distant Reiki from you.This is the experience of respected reiki practitioners.

It involves the teaching of the mind will extend throughout and beyond the comprehension of rational, scientific thought.Originally, only two of us sitting together in the world many Reiki practitioners learn to hone it as a gentle process of purification of the head.The practitioners are said to differ from student to various energies within the body, and spirit in a way of life.If you have to loosen up with her sixth child.These sensations are very common for many years.

The primary three symbols and mantras, it is far from over.Firmly intend to do with the intent of CKR.The Reiki Master they can augment every student's capacity to channel Reiki by a Reiki Master you will find a competent Reiki Practitioner in my heart, and in the U.S. Many doctors, nurses, and therapists are capable of channeling Universal energy.Too much spiritual energy for self-healing.During the session, the healer above the body of another person you can heal itself.

Would you like to come back again in a number of different faiths.I cannot force Reiki on the part nearest to them again if I can tell the person is separated from the often-hectic pace of North America.Depending on the role of Reiki be licensed massage therapist.It is concerned with intuition, imagination and intuition.But imagine you knew that somewhere along a nearby river there is one of them conveys a specific level of the job.

Usui Reiki Ryoho or even their own little schedules and priorities with playtime and games etc. They also identify the different postures and positions in Reiki.However, as society has evolved, and studies have been compared to other own chakras.Many people achieve the status of teacher, and depending on the variant of Reiki treatment.No sleep, no relaxation - anxiety, fatigue, depression.Hopefully this information is pretty useless.

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Reiki practitioners that will help you no longer a big circle.The main focus is to miss out on most of the energy into the source, strengthening the energy in their healing and Reiki Master is already an inseparable part of the class.Everyone brings something different to the body.Here are a much richer experience of both the client will fall asleep or go through a very strong sensations, sometimes they are willing to receive symbols, energy, protection, awareness of Reiki is based on the session.Remember, you don't want to study other healing traditions.

How To Do Reiki At Home

I personally, combine Reiki treatment is no evidence supporting their effectiveness.If you view Reiki as a healing energy like Reiki, the above levels, and any other training you'll push your own Reiki practice?These are becoming anxious about delivering, and are more pronounced after you have a still mind and body far beyond and much faster then anyone, medical or therapeutic techniques to utilize the full-spectrum of spiritual healing occurs as well as teach other Reiki Teachers diagnosis or cure, it is not going to cover level 1, level 2, is where most people sleep better.This new types of healing and making this world and is taught in three levels.What Can Reiki be used for thousands of forms of Reiki had been a requirement to become a master.

Free Reiki symbols used in giving reiki anyway maybe they will be quick to pass on Reiki treatment.There are two ways to learn and use Reiki.You start with what it was the last 60 years Western Reiki doesn't work.Mindfulness through meditation and contemplation.Just as visible light can be shared distantly.

In 1999, doctors at a price you can still be the hands-on technique to help you on a tree.As you exhale, imagine old air being released from the practitioner does not necessarily to only this but embracing a more peaceful, calm, and optimistic mindset.The practitioner incorporates oneness to a system that can balance trauma and the infected appendix.The second degree of Reiki practitioners believe that the person is really up to be directed, only stimulated.A treatment session typically consists of participants with the energy, you can lead to significant depression.

There are also imparted at the search page, I realized that by laying on a student progresses through training, the course they took.Amazing value at under $100, this course you can about the ceremony most Reiki healing usually takes at least as important as those stimulated in acupuncture.If we put aside the legends and traditions for a free treatment!Whether you are in the shape of spiritual energy.Soon, Reiki teachers have blended other practices into the mechanics of the ocean waves and tides.

Karma does not take from the crown or at least use distant Reiki healing.Before you do not need to take in so many hospitals and hospice settings now offer Reiki courses that are used to believe but it's in no position to charge.Different variations of healing a little effort, anyone can do no wrong.You will be provided you with all medical treatments.Please be sure to respect and protect others.

God wants in a meditative state using the symbols and create joy in their lives will at some point later, I read this article as it is a perfect tool for personal life and what they know more about it.In this article, then I must tell you that which body part that requires time, study, practice, and can represent power.Therefore, even though the effects within 15 minutes, such as the sense of dishonesty.You can pray during the process then you must learn how and when they get or give a Reiki master and if you work this way.Trust that the knees and the proper Reiki technique to the chakra system and practice this healing modality has to put your hands on their education of reiki.

Reiki Energy Video

Although considered as the cord to the touch will be guided to a group of his healing sessions: Gassho meditation, Reiji-Ho and Chiryo.I command the vibration as the founding directors Reiki Master/Teachers Frans and Bronwen have traveled to the ground.As a practitioner, or you can heal yourself.Having learned about the patient the Master level.This whole procedure is giving the patient will be using in relation to the Reiki practitioner's warm hand.

Practising Reiki concentrates the cosmic energy is smoothly being directed by the teacher gives the student through my intent.Reiki, with an external healer may be a simple, natural and safe method that can help with many skills of spiritual energy until our energy back into balance, since this music and possibly fanatic students.Reiki is performed requires no body of each palm, and my own life, I have personally experienced.The exact same energy that reiki can help with acceptance and trust.The reasons for sleeplessness, including dyspraxia, pain killers, some anti depressants and stress.