#it can only really be diagnosed with surgery

[imsooooorrrrysorry]

Your first point is pedantic, do you really think anyone wants to see themselves as losers? Especially men, who value sex a ton, coming to terms that they can't get it? If a man calls himself an incel he most likely is "involuntarily celibate." He doesn't need to be knocking on every women's doors to prove it.

The point is an incel can barely get a positive interaction with women. Remember I was in the break room at work, I was flipping through tv channels. And one of my female coworkers started to talk to me about tv, and we had this pleasant exchange talking about tv. And it stood out to me because it was an interaction with a women that seemed pleasant and wasn't forced. Remember there was this blackpilled incel youtuber, Chewy, and he said he had this constant dream that made him happy. He said it was a dream where he was talking to this woman and he made a joke that made her smile. If that's the highlight of your day it's over.

Dating apps are the easiest way to tell whether you're an incel because they are apps meant for finding a partner. Everyone on the app is there to meet someone to date. Yet, incels can't even get a lowly right swipe. I'm not even talking about getting a date, they can't even get a consideration for the date. Think about all the women who saw an incels profile, probably in the thousands and not one gave him a consideration. Do you need to go up to 1000 women in real life to be considered an incel, in your eyes? Do online rejections not count?

I myself am not really "negative," but that doesn't matter because my "personality" isn't the issue. But do you think most hateful , negative incels express their "negative personality" publicly? Incels post often that they don't let their "based views" be known to normies.

And autistic men are still the minority in the incelsphere. So what do these autistic and neurotypical incels have in common? Subpar looks.

How can we know for sure that 80% of men have sex yearly? Again, men don't want to admit that they are sexual failures. They can be lying. If you started to go up to random men and ask them "can I see a picture of your girlfriend/ wife in your phone?" They would not pull up a picture, because they don't got one. You must have male relatives. A brother perhaps, or cousins. How often do you see them with women?

Kindness, intelligence, and humor overcoming looks is a lie. Don't trust any of those "studies." Incels have been doing tinder experiments for like 10 years now where they have a male model as the profile and their bio states that they're pedophilic violent felons and not only do they get matches, they actually get conversations from women. The women will overlook what they supposedly did. I know of tom Morgan, despite him being noticably autistic he still has many suitors on his YouTube videos, because he's good looking. Do you know of Clavicular? He's a mod on looksmax.org, went viral for his bone smashing. This guy is noticably autistic, he's clinically diagnosed too, he does a lot to looksmax. Meme stuff like mewing and bone smashing, but serious stuff too like fillers, steroids, tret, lifts, and a myriad of other drugs. He's a pretty good looking guy now, but he's also a pretty cruel and self absorbed guy. He posts about and insults the women he sleeps with, which he has proof of with pics and videos. He said he was going to bully his subhuman roommate. He takes vids of himself mogging and insulting other men to show people how superior he is. And all of this while being very visibility autistic. Why does he get women? He's good looking. There's no running from the importance of looks when it comes to men dating women.

There's a lot of to the blackpill, yes, incels got a bad hand. But their bad hand was in the looks department, not the "personality." The help they need to escape inceldom is cosmetic surgery, they need face transplants and leg lengthening . Outside of that I encourage incels to focus on whatever they find satisfying. No need to be doom and gloom always . I'm going to be 30 this year, been in the incelsphere for nearly 10 years. Thought I was different, that I wasn't an incel and was going to get a girlfriend soon. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I don't think self proclaimed incels are late bloomers, they understand their condition.

Testing a male bullshit story #1

[girlblocker]

i hate womens health… how have none of you doctor freaks figured out what causes endometriosis by now

[wheelchairtetris]

hmm yet another experience of looking to see how other ppl deal w similar neuro symptoms to mine and finding endless "have you looked into eds?" comments followed by almost exclusively advice for treating eds symptoms and not my very much not eds neuro symptoms

[kerosene-saint]

I wish I wasn't chronically ill :[

[thebibliosphere]

Hey! I know that this isn't something you struggle with but since a lot of your other followers are disabled as well, it would mean a lot to me if you could publish this ask since I'd like to see if anyone else experiences anything similar to what I'm going through. I'm not asking for anyone to armchair diagnose me, I'd just appreciate not feeling so alone and scared and confused. My general physician is claiming that my anxiety is causing the issues I'll describe but I call bullshit on that:

About two years ago, cca 4 months after my top surgery, my body stopped being able to process oil. Whenever I'd eat anything that was made with oil of any kind, I'd get cramps in the abdomen after a while and I'd get diarrhea. Caffeine started to do this also but in a smaller intensity. I had a hysterectomy a bit after that and they checked my kidneys and liver so I know that those are both ok and not the cause. I also got checked for Celiac since it runs in the family. Because the issue wasn't getting worse and my then general physician was always dismissive, I let it be. When I wasn't having diarrhea, I was constipated, though I did have a bowel movement like once or twice a week. Fast forward to now. In August, it suddenly got a lot worse. At first, even a single drop of oil would make me feel ill. Then, the time period got longer - currently the cramps and the pain last for 48 hours afterwards. I also became unable to digest animal fats, the only meat I can eat is lean chicken and fish. Afterwards, gluten became an issue (Celiac is still negative), and then nuts as well.

My new GP, even though she believes it to be anxiety, gave me Itopride, and it worked for about 3 weeks - I had no cramps, pain, exhaustion, gas or bloating after eating, and I had a bowel movement once a day. But it stopped working two days ago, again without a reason, and the effects started being less effective about a week ago. Even when taking the meds, I have a movement only once in about 8 days, and laxatives make me gassy but nothing happens. I'm also not sure about this, but it seems that chicken is no longer safe either.

I think it's important that if I don't take Itopride, I never even feel the urge to go, so when I say that I've always been constipated, I mean that I don't even feel the need to have a movement. Lately, when I take Itopride, I do get the urge that I do always get when taking it, but it's like I can't go, so I always feel full.

I just feel super scared and I have no idea what's going on. I admit that I have a history of eating disorders (in recovery since May) and I did abuse laxatives about a year ago, but I don't think it was enough to cause such serious issues? I used to take them like once a week and for about 3-4 months.

I'd really appreciate knowing if anyone has ever experienced anything similar or knows about anything like this because I feel like my life is in shambles - can't go outside for long because I might need the toilet suddenly, or I'm in too much pain to walk, I'm afraid to eat, I often feel repulsive, I don't know what might happen in a month, I am becoming incapable of taking care of myself and my flat because I'm just so goddamn tired.

Ooft, I’m sorry. It sounds like you’ll need a colonoscopy to figure this one out, so if you haven’t had one yet, really push for a referral.

Fwiw, I do experience something like this, but it’s from mast cell inflammation in my GI tract. The doc prescribed me bentyl for when things flare up but I’m also on a fiber supplement (citrucel. It’s a lot gentler than other types) to try and keep that from happening. Also if you’re low on b vitamins, your stomach sometimes stops digesting food, so maybe also ask about getting your levels checked. Taking an additional b2 supplement means I can process fats and oils again which I couldn’t before.

I’m not saying this to be like “this is what you have” just throwing them out there as suggestions that might help you piece together what might be wrong.

I hope you get more helpful comments in the notes 💖

[ramblingautisticman]

(Okay, for some reason, the repost where I was talking about this just...disapeard?? So here I go. Again. I'm just going to post it as a separate thing.)

(Also, Warning, talking about child hood cancer, experimentation and torture, and the other general dark Logan or Wade things.)

Okay! So- obviously, with the timeline, it wouldn't work- but I can just change that because why not?

Imagine Wade being diagnosed with cancer at 8. He has chemo and some surgeries, then for a good 2 years he is cancer free. Of course, though, it comes back at around 11. There isn't anything they can do this time, though. The surgeries won't work, and chemo will only prolong the inevitable, so Wade has to accept his fate. His parents get approached by someone who promises to cure Wade, though. All they need to do is sign over their legal rights in regards to him, so that's what they do. Sure, they cured him, but only after years of being tortured and experimented on. Wade thinks his parents didn't know at the beginning, but after the first few months, he started to question if they knew what this place was. His parents had never been kind people, and Wade quickly decided his parents probably didn't care what happened when they signed that waver. He survives, though. He gets his mutation, and eventually, the X-Men manages to find the facility that has been doing this. He's glad all of the other kids have been saved and most of them reunited with their parents- he had looked after half of them in that hell hole so he feels responsible for making sure they are all save wherever they go- and he goes back to the school with the other kids who don't have a home to go back to or just don't want to go back home. It's weird to be a whole 17 years of age and not knowing how to function in the world. He knows how to survive, but that's about it. So, it's a struggle to settle into the mansion at first, but he quickly takes on the role of bigger brother to the younger kids. And yeah, he finds it hard to interact with the people his own age, too terrified to deal with the possible riddicule of how he looks.

Logan's been there awhile. He was found by the Professor after a few news articles popped up about some 'strange deaths' and he had investigated. No one at the school knows much about him- they know he lived in the woods for a year when he was 13, and that the Professor found him- but that's about it. Practically all the students avoid him like the plague in the halls and at meal times. It's not that Logan tries to talk to the others anyway, and he doesn't really want too. He's used to being a lone wolf. He keeps to himself, doesn't want to deal with others shit, and he plans to keep it that way. He's gonna leave this place as soon as he is 18 next year. He isn't even sure where he would go, but he refuses to join the X-Men. He can't bring himself too- to many accidents with the claws and panic attacks to be able to help people.

Naturally, Wade decides that Logan is the person he is going to befriend. Even if the idea of being judged terrifies him, he can't help but be interested in the quiet brooding bad boy.

[ms-demeanor]

IDK that I've ever put it in one post before, but here's the transplant speedrun.

1 - Valentines day 2021, he's admitted to the hospital. We take a pre-hospital selfie then I shave his head and he shaves his beard because he doesn't want to deal with hair at the hospital. Me and his mom drop him off; at that point you can only visit someone as they are actually dying and we're told that he's going to stay in the hospital until he gets a transplant or he dies, and if he's rejected as a transplant recipient he'll receive palliative care in this hospital.

2 - First week of March, they allow patients to have one screened visitor; this is our first visit - I take photos in the hospital to show his mom because at this point he has a pump in his shoulder and it is difficult for him to move his arms to use his phone. He has also been confined to a bed since the week he arrived because he's on the ECMO machine, so he can't walk or move around, though they stand him up every once in a while. At one point one of the ecmo tubes pulls out of his femoral artery, which is Not! Great! He also needed a blood transfusion about every two days at that point, which worried the doctors because it increased his likelihood of rejecting. But he had been approved for transplant at that point!

The first thing he said to me on this visit was "look, I have abs" and then he showed me his abs because it turns out when you're really really dying of heart failure your body begins to eat itself.

3 - Now That's What I Call Jaundice (cardiac cirrhosis is liver failure as a result of heart failure and it's pretty much the big giant neon flashing sign of heart failure that says "hey you're fucking dying" so if you've got heart failure and your bilirubin number is off or the whites of your eyes are yellow please kick up a gigantic stink until they check your liver; large bastard's GP, who is my doctor, who I hate, saw his bloodwork with a very high bilirubin number a month before he was diagnosed with cardiac cirrhosis and wrote it off as a testing fluke fuck that guy)

4 - Don't let the sad face fool you, he's acting pathetic so that his mom will stop yelling about the fact that I'm bringing him cookies. He's allowed to have cookies. At that point he weighed 98kg and was outsourcing his heartbeat, he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted. (have i mentioned that I was moving us from Vegas to LA at this time? I was bringing him cookies because I'd baked hundreds of peanut butter cookies and other cookies to use up the flour, sugar, and peanut butter in the vegas house)

5 - Mid-march, he's got a match! He called me when I was in Vegas filling up the truck with another load and I drove right back and to the hospital. Once he went in for surgery I drove to his mom's house and crashed, then woke up and drove to our storage unit and unpacked the truck while I waited to hear from the doctors. I was unloading a bookcase when I got the call. (There wasn't any point in waiting alone in the hospital for sixteen hours; either he was going to make it or he wasn't and someone was going to have to unload the truck at some point. People have been weird about this, like I should have been sitting at his side all the time, but there was a two-hour daily limit for most visits and look i have sat in a waiting room while this dude had a thirteen hour surgery i do not need a repeat of that experience without the soothing balm of nicotine getting me through it; so unloading a truck it was)

6 - Two days after surgery and kind of mad about it. His chest hurt a lot (obviously) but, like, a lot a lot because they'd had to open him up for the bypass just two years earlier.

7 - First walk outside of his room after transplant in early April; he needed a LOT of PT because of how much muscle he'd lost. He lost sixty pounds in the hospital before the surgery, and only gained back about twenty while he was in there.

8 - A visit from the tiny doggo

9 - I come to visit and I've got a new phone with a portrait mode so he steals it and takes stupid pictures for a few minutes. Dude is bored and restless; this is in late april and he's feeling well enough to be moody. ETA: There is a jar of pickles in front of him because he'd been fluid limited for a long time and his salt levels were off and when he got to the hospital they were like "you need electrolytes and a lot of salt" and he was like "sweetheart can you please please please bring me delicious salty things" so I was bringing him jars of pickled mushrooms and garlic stuffed olives and just a huge number of pickles that he kept trying to share with the nurses. "Alli brought the mushrooms again; would you like a pickled mushroom? I have fancy toothpicks to share them with!"

10 - He comes home for the first time in early May; he ends up getting readmitted two more times because of complications before finally being released in early July. ETA: The second time he got readmitted it was for something that he wasn't at all worried about but that they needed to monitor for a couple weeks so he was *SO BORED* and actually feeling pretty okay; so at one point when I was leaving the parking garage at 8pm my car wouldn't start, I did some troubleshooting with the manual and the internet and didn't figure it out, so I called him and he tried to troubleshoot over the phone and got frustrated and was begging his nurses to let him come out to the parking structure to work on my car (they refused) - I ended up getting a tow and fixing it when I replaced the battery terminals.

Photos are all posted with his permission.

Also I dyed my hair purple between photos one and two because it's his favorite color. I also bought a blue dress, red tights, and yellow shoes to wear to visit him because he always teases me for wearing so much black.

I just love him a lot. It was a hard couple years there, but things are getting better.

[nerves-nebula]

Hi all! I really appreciate how much help I've gotten for Abdul over the past year but we're gonna need even more help. My friend Abdul is facing a big medical issue. TL;DR is that he's in a refugee camp and needs $1,000 very soon for hemorrhoid surgery.

I've attached the text he sent me below plus photos he sent me of him before an interview last week:

DEVASTATING INFORMATION:

Am saddened to inform you that I have been diagnosed with hemorrhoids today am having a lot of pain while going to ease my self, I pass out blood and I can't walk or seat well, When I stand for five minutes I loose blood,

I have been told at the clinic here in gorom refugee settlement to see an Indian surgeon to examine me and if possible go for a surgery before it's too late unfortunately I don't have anyone to help and the surgery might cost me around 1000$.

It can only be done in juba town which is almost 125miles away from gorom refugee camp.

URGENT CALL FOR HELP:

To anyone who sees this please spare what you have to help me because am into a lot of pain and I don't want to die at this time when my colleagues have started to do security Interviews today for USA and only waiting for the medicals to travel to USA.

Please donate to my fundraising page so that i regain my life

Thanks again yours Abdul luyombya

[slfcare]

life goes on and it will take you with it

#bee tells a story on time and love (for new years', for you) cw grief, cancer mention

In 2024, I lost five people, all family members. Two of them were brother and sister, both had cancer and passed shortly after they were diagnosed. The first never knew the second would be so close to follow. She was my grandmother, in whose guestroom I slept exactly a year ago on New Year’s Eve, next to my mother. While the latter had gone out for breakfast, I found her sitting in the kitchen, still in her nightgown and bonnet. She told me she hadn’t been feeling well, and that my uncle (her second-oldest son) would take her to the doctor’s soon.

We didn’t know, then, that a month later they’d tell her that the stomach-pain she’d been experiencing had been a tumor that had spread everywhere. Another month later she’d be gone. I’d be in a candle-lit room at the funeral home, debating whether I should reach out and touch her hand before they would bolt her casket shut as I was trying to remember every inch of her face through my blurry vision. (It didn’t work.)

Her brother got his diagnosis soon after, and passed peacefully. Their cousin passed in her sleep shortly after him. My great-aunt on my Dad’s side had had Parkinson’s for a while and grew more frail and forgetful by the day, but it still came as a shock when he called to tell me she had taken her last breaths. Then there was my Dad’s cousin, a father of two, a real health-nut. He went for a normal checkup but never went home, because of an aneurysm. He ended up having several heart-attacks during and after surgery, then slipped into a coma and passed on his birthday. My Dad’s best friend was a genius, too, but this year, his aneurysm took everything from him. Last NYE he was celebrating in town, now he’s in a nursing home for the rest of his life.

After such a tumultuous year, I thought it was over. But then, on december 26th, my dearest uncle — the second-oldest son of my late grandmother, who took his mom to the doctor’s only ten months ago — was sent to the ER by his family doctor for pneumonia, and then suffered a stroke today right before he’d head home, for which he’s in surgery as I type this. When my mom told me about him, she added that my dearest cousin’s father was also diagnosed with cancer.

I tallied it up in my head. With everybody I’d lost this year, plus my friend’s grandmother, he’d be the fourth person who was diagnosed with cancer this year.

To be really honest with you all, I think all of it has had a greater impact on me than I’ve been trying to trick myself into believing. It’s been hard trying to wrap my mind around how so many bad things can happen at once. Everywhere I turned, more people passed, got diagnosed with something horrible, or had terrible things happen to them. Not to mention the state of our world right now: the genocide in Palestine, the war in Ukraine, the terrible attacks by Israel, Trump’s presidency and the uncertainty that all of it brings for so many of us. My heart aches for so many people that it forgets to ache for myself. All of this hurt is bigger than I am. I imagine it surpasses me, in some way, and that’s why I can’t really feel it.

The weirdest thing is that despite all of this, life continues. In one of my posts this year, I wrote, life goes on and it will take you with it. It has no choice but to do so. While my grandmother grew weaker, I was just a subway-ride away from her at college, trying to focus on my minor, or celebrate the fact that I got my first job offer because of a school project I had shown her just weeks prior. While three family members passed, I landed an amazing internship. While my uncle had his heart attacks back-to-back, I was planning for my future. A future that, suddenly, so many of my loved ones wouldn’t be there to be a part of.

The fact that life goes on and it will take you with it feels unfair and painful. It means that life was also rushing me past the moments I wasn’t ready to leave behind, like that moment I shared with my grandmother, as we sat in her kitchen the morning of January 1st, 2024. But at the same time, each of these losses taught me the most important lesson of the year: how real strength is born from love, how precious and fleeting the smallest moments are, how each of these moments is like the faintest little light guiding us forward. Because that’s where we must go.

Time has moved us, and the ones before us, past the most hurtful things we can imagine. Time freed my loved ones from their pain and illnesses. Time will allow me to grow with my grief and get used to its weight in the pit of my stomach and my chest. Time will show mercy to us both: see, how it has brought us to 2025?

If you have suffered loss or grief this year, or if you’ve suffered at all, or if this was the best year of your life: I wish you a better new year. Time has taken you this far and it will continue carrying you. As will life. As will love. ♡

[movingmusically]

Hi! Can you do an Austin Butler x gf!reader imagine where Austin is diagnosed with appendicitis and has to get surgery? So like let’s say it’s the day of Austin’s surgery and he’s really nervous but the reader is really supportive and is reassuring him while they’re driving to the hospital. When they get there, Austin and the reader kiss each other and everything before the doctors take Austin to pre-op. Once the surgery is done and Austin is now in his hospital room, the reader sits by his side and waits until he wakes up. Once he wakes up the reader tries to get him water and take care of him, but he’s high on drugs 😭 so he’s like all lovey dovey toward the reader and like very clingy so he just asks the reader to lay with him. A little after that, the nurse comes in to check on Austin and get him ready to go home (you usually go home the same day for appendicitis surgery) so the reader has to get up from the bed, but Austin gets all protective and doesn’t want the reader to leave his side. He doesn’t even let the nurse touch him, saying that the only girl that’s allowed to touch him is his girlfriend. The reader calms him down and lets him now that it’s okay and that the nurse has to get him ready so that they can go home. After finally agreeing to getting dressed, Austin is ready to go home. Once the nurse and reader help him in the car, they finally arrive home. Austin is pretty sore so the ready is obviously very attentive and loving with him, making sure he has everything he needs. Austin insists on laying down, so the reader helps him to the bed and they take a nap together.

You can add anything else if you’d like 😭

I apologize if there’s any typos!

Author’s Note:

Thank you for the request! I loved writing this sweet and fluffy story about Austin being nervous before surgery and clingy afterward. I hope it’s what you were looking for. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,837

Masterlist

Operation: Love

Austin wasn’t one to complain about pain—he prided himself on being tough, brushing off bruises and scratches as if they were nothing. But when he doubled over in the kitchen, clutching his stomach and hissing through clenched teeth, you knew something was seriously wrong.

“Austin,” you said urgently, rushing to his side. “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach?”

He nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. “Yeah. Feels like… like a knife twisting or something.”

You didn’t hesitate, helping him to his feet and guiding him toward the car. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

He protested, of course. “It’s probably just something I ate—”

“Austin,” you cut him off, giving him a look that brooked no argument. “This isn’t up for discussion. Let’s go.”

By the time you got him to the emergency room, he was pale and trembling, the pain worsening with every passing minute. Watching him writhe on the hospital bed while waiting for the doctor was agonising. You stayed by his side, holding his hand, whispering soothing words, though it felt like little comfort.

When the doctor finally came in, her expression was serious but reassuring.

“It’s appendicitis,” she explained. “We’ll need to remove it before it ruptures. The good news is it’s a routine procedure, and you should be able to go home the same day.”

Austin swallowed hard, his free hand balling into a fist. “Surgery?”

“It’s the best option,” the doctor said gently. “You’ll feel a lot better once it’s out.”

You squeezed his hand, giving him a soft smile. “It’s going to be okay, babe. This is a quick surgery, and I’ll be right here the whole time.”

The surgery was scheduled for the next morning, giving you both the night to prepare. You spent the evening coaxing him into drinking clear fluids and distracting him with his favourite movies. But despite your best efforts, you could see the nervousness in his eyes, the way his leg jiggled whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

That night, as you lay in bed together, he finally let his guard down.

“I don’t know why I’m so freaked out,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s a simple surgery, but…”

“But it’s still surgery,” you finished for him, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay to be scared, Austin. It doesn’t make you weak.”

He turned his head to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “What if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” you said firmly, cupping his face. “You’re in good hands, and I’ll be there as soon as you wake up. You’re stuck with me, Butler.”

That earned you a faint smile, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, baby.”

The next morning, you could feel the tension radiating off him as you got ready to leave for the hospital. He tried to put on a brave face, but the way he kept fidgeting gave him away.

In the car, his nerves were palpable. His leg bounced restlessly, and he kept rubbing his hands together.

“You okay?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, but his tone was far from convincing.

You reached over and placed a hand on his knee, stilling his restless movements. “Austin, look at me.”

He turned to you, his expression vulnerable in a way you rarely saw.

“You’re going to be fine,” you said softly but firmly. “This is just a bump in the road, and by tonight, you’ll be back home, bossing me around like usual.”

That got a small chuckle out of him. “I don’t boss you around.”

“Sure you don’t,” you teased, giving his knee a squeeze. “But seriously, you’ve got this. And I’ll be right there waiting for you when you wake up. Always.”

The parking lot of the hospital loomed ahead all too soon, and as you pulled into a space, you noticed the way his hands gripped the edge of the seat, his knuckles white.

Once inside, you held his hand tightly as you checked him in and waited for the nurse to call his name. He kept glancing at you, like he needed reassurance you weren’t going anywhere.

Finally, a nurse approached, clipboard in hand. “Austin Butler?”

“That’s me,” he said, his voice a little shaky.

The nurse smiled warmly. “We’re ready to get you prepped for surgery.”

Austin’s grip on your hand tightened, and he turned to you, his eyes wide with nervousness.

“Hey,” you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“I know,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “But you’re stronger than you think. And when you wake up, I’ll be right here, making fun of your hospital gown.”

That earned you a shaky laugh, and he kissed you again, lingering for a moment like he didn’t want to let go.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady this time.

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

The nurse gave you a moment before gently leading him away. You watched until he disappeared around the corner, your chest tight with worry but your resolve stronger than ever.

“All yours,” you whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath and heading to the waiting room.

The waiting room was cold, sterile, and far too quiet. The hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional ding of the receptionist’s phone were the only sounds keeping you company. You’d been given updates—one nurse had reassured you that everything was proceeding smoothly—but the minutes dragged on like hours.

You tried distracting yourself, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, but nothing could hold your attention. Every time the door opened, your head snapped up, hoping it was a nurse with news.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor in scrubs walked into the room, a small clipboard in hand.

“Miss?” he asked, glancing around.

You stood so fast your chair nearly toppled over. “Yes! Is he okay?”

The doctor gave a kind smile, his voice steady and calm. “The surgery went perfectly. We were able to remove the appendix before it ruptured, and he’s in recovery now. He’ll be groggy for a little while as the anaesthesia wears off, but you can see him shortly.”

Relief hit you like a tidal wave, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The doctor nodded and gestured for you to follow a nurse down the hall. Each step felt lighter than the last, the knot of worry in your chest slowly loosening.

When you entered the recovery room, Austin was propped up in the hospital bed, his head lolled slightly to one side. His eyes were closed, and his usually perfect hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles. The sight made your heart ache with affection.

You moved quietly to his side, pulling a chair closer to the bed and sitting down. Gently, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. His skin was warm, his grip surprisingly strong despite how out of it he looked.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

Austin’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked a few times before focusing on you. A lazy, lopsided smile spread across his face.

“Baby?” His voice was rough, thick with grogginess.

“I’m here,” you murmured, leaning closer so he could see you clearly.

“Hi,” he said, his tone slow and dreamy, like he was discovering you for the first time. “You’re so pretty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thanks, handsome. How are you feeling?”

“Great,” he said with a sigh, his head lolling back against the pillow. “Everything’s so… floaty. And you’re here. Perfect.”

His free hand reached up, clumsily brushing against your cheek. “I love you. Did I say that already? I love you so much. You’re, like… my favourite person. Ever.”

“You might’ve mentioned it,” you said with a soft laugh, though your cheeks were starting to burn.

“Good,” he said firmly—or at least as firmly as someone still high on anaesthesia could manage. “’Cause it’s true. Don’t want you to forget.”

His words were slurred but so heartfelt that they made your chest tighten. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I won’t forget. Promise.”

Austin made a contented sound, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they snapped open again. “Wait. Where’re you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“Good. Can’t go. Need you. You’re the best nurse ever. Prettiest, too,” he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

You laughed again, resting your chin on the edge of the bed. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me,” he said, grinning like a smug toddler. “And I love you. So much. Like… infinity.”

Before you could respond, he tugged at your arm, trying to pull you closer. “C’mere. Lay with me.”

“Austin, you’re in a hospital bed,” you said gently, though you didn’t move away.

“Don’t care. Wanna cuddle,” he insisted, his voice taking on a petulant edge.

You glanced around the room, checking to see if a nurse was nearby, then carefully climbed onto the narrow bed, resting beside him. His arm immediately wrapped around you, pulling you close as he let out a satisfied sigh.

“See? Perfect,” he murmured, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Best nap ever.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers gently brushing through his messy hair. “You’re impossible.”

“Perfectly possible,” he countered sleepily, a proud grin tugging at his lips.

You stayed like that for a while, the steady sound of his breathing lulling you into a state of calm. He mumbled occasionally, little declarations of love and nonsensical compliments—“Your hair smells like sunshine” and “I’d fight a dragon for you”—that made you laugh quietly to yourself.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by the soft knock of the nurse entering the room. You shifted to sit up, but Austin’s arm tightened around you like a vice.

“No,” he mumbled stubbornly, burying his face into your shoulder. “Stay.”

You laughed softly and stroked his hair. “Austin, I’m not going anywhere. The nurse just needs to check on you.”

The nurse, a woman in her late forties with a kind smile, approached the bedside with her clipboard. “Good afternoon, Mr Butler. How are you feeling?”

Austin peeked out from his spot against your shoulder, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. “She’s the only one allowed to touch me,” he declared, his voice slurred but resolute as he pointed at you.

The nurse blinked in surprise before her lips quirked into an amused smile. “I promise, I’ll be gentle. Just need to check your vitals so we can get you ready to go home.”

Austin shook his head, his grip on you tightening. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Austin,” you said gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It’s okay. She’s just doing her job, and the sooner she’s done, the sooner we can leave.”

“But…” His lips turned down into a pout, his big blue eyes pleading with you. “I don’t like her touching me.”

The nurse chuckled softly, clearly used to patients in post-op haze. “I promise, it’ll be quick, and I’ll only touch what I absolutely have to.”

You cupped Austin’s face, tilting it so he’d focus on you. “Babe, you trust me, right?”

“Always,” he said immediately, his expression softening.

“Then trust me when I say it’s okay. She’s helping us get out of here, and I’ll be right here the whole time,” you reassured him.

Austin huffed dramatically, but he reluctantly loosened his hold on you. “Fine. But only ’cause you said so.”

The nurse gave you an approving smile as she got to work, checking his vitals and giving him instructions for post-surgery care. Austin endured it all with the patience of a grumpy cat, his eyes darting to you every few seconds as if to ensure you hadn’t left.

When it came time for him to get dressed, his stubborn streak reappeared.

“Can’t I just stay like this?” he asked, gesturing to his hospital gown.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You want to walk out of here in a backless gown?”

He grumbled but finally allowed you and the nurse to help him into his sweatpants and hoodie. Once he was dressed, the nurse left to grab the discharge paperwork.

“I don’t like her,” Austin muttered as you helped him sit back down on the bed.

You laughed, shaking your head. “She’s just doing her job. Be nice.”

“She’s not you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

After signing the paperwork, you helped Austin into the car, his movements slow and stiff. He winced as he lowered himself into the passenger seat, and you quickly adjusted the seatbelt for him.

“Comfortable?” you asked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Would be better if I was in bed,” he grumbled, though he leaned into your touch.

“We’re almost there,” you said with a smile, closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, Austin was clearly feeling the effects of the surgery and the long day. His movements were sluggish, and he winced as he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Wait, let me help,” you said quickly, reaching over to unclip the buckle and gently ease it off him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You came around to his side of the car and helped him out, one arm looped securely around his waist. He leaned heavily on you, his usual graceful movements replaced by slow, careful steps.

“How’s the pain?” you asked as you guided him toward the door.

“Not great,” he admitted with a grimace. “It’s like someone punched me in the stomach and then sat on me for good measure.”

You gave him a sympathetic smile, unlocking the door and helping him inside. “Alright, let’s get you to bed so you can rest. I’ll grab anything you need.”

“No arguments here,” he muttered, sinking onto the couch as soon as you were inside.

You crouched in front of him, your hands resting gently on his knees. “You okay to walk to the bedroom, or do you want to sit here for a bit?”

“I can make it,” he said, though he sounded doubtful.

“Come on,” you said softly, standing and offering him your hand. “I’ve got you.”

He leaned on you as you walked to the bedroom, his arm slung over your shoulders for support. You moved slowly, matching his pace, until he finally eased himself onto the bed with a groan of relief.

“Better?” you asked, adjusting the pillows behind him and pulling the blankets up over his legs.

“Getting there,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again. He gave you a sleepy smile. “You’re the best. Can I keep you forever?”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I think you’ve already got me, Butler.”

“Good,” he murmured, his eyelids drooping. “Don’t ever leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Now, do you need anything? Water, pain meds, a snack?”

“Just you,” he said softly, reaching for your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his grogginess. “Lay with me?”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the time. “I should get you some water and check your meds first—”

“Please?” he whispered, his voice so soft and vulnerable that it tugged at your heart.

“Alright,” you relented, kicking off your shoes and slipping under the covers beside him. “But if you need anything, you have to let me know, okay?”

“Deal,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist as you settled in next to him.

You carefully rested your head on his shoulder, mindful of his soreness, and let your hand rest on his chest. He exhaled deeply, his entire body relaxing against yours.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Feels like everything’s better when you’re here.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere, babe. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Within minutes, his breathing slowed, and you felt the tension melt from his body. You stayed awake a little longer, watching him sleep, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair.

Finally, you let yourself relax, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful sleep beside him. Whatever the day had thrown at you both, this was all that mattered—being here for each other, no matter what.

[spread-the-influence]

so how would you diagnose everyone actually im curious

well , there's the obvious ! i think pomni and ragatha has autism ( i feel like they get Too interested with stuff ) with ragatha having adhd ( that woman gets distracted easily i promise you ) , gangle has bipolar disorder ( it's literally written all over her ) , jax and zooble has aspd ( they both have that chronic boredom™ ) and everyone pretty much gets ptsd after the influence .

buttt , if we're getting detailed then . um ! slowly pulls in ragatha

Undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder - i'm sorry for dropping this fucking mouthful it's the psychology autism this woman has crushingly low self-worth to the point it's kind of concerning . like it's worrying how non-existent it is . she relies a Lot on others to replace her lack of self-worth and needs them more than they need her . also , she just fits a lot of the quiet bpd type . like , becoming obsessed with a specific person ? fear of rejection and being alone ? inwardly directed hostility ? taking small things personally ? having a hard time talking about your feelings ? extreme people pleasing ??? she's not beating both the woman enjoyer And bpd allegations as you can see All Of This got Exacerbated when she was infected

Tryphanophobia (Fear of Needles) - this one is just This AU's Ragatha thing so there's no canon evidence behind it . needles is an oversimplification but it's a big one — she just has a fear of anything medical really . especially anything related to surgeries . there's still a fear of centipedes because a ragatha is not complete without a fear of centipedes

Psychosis - psychosis isn't a Diagnosis but rather a condition that could be a symptom of a mental health disorder . i'm only putting it as just psychosis because i'm nooottt exactly sure what psychotic disorder this falls under as it's not exactly schizophrenia this only really got developed post-fluence . when stressed , she sometimes hears voices of the circus members , and sometimes she hears them . she also vehemently believed she might still be infected with the virus for a while . i like to sometimes think she gets a schizophrenia diagnosis when she's out of the circus (:

[mavrintarou]

[3:33 PM] Suna Rintarou [1]

OKAY. I started something. I don't know where it's going but it's going to go somewhere.

Warning: TW - death & kidney failure disease, angst, daddy Rin (literally)

.

Rin sits with his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his trembling knees as he tries to process the news he just received just ten minutes ago. It was the best news he’d heard in what felt like an eternity.

A matching kidney donor has been found for his little girl, Ren.

Eight months ago, his five-year-old daughter was diagnosed with kidney failure and began treatment right away. Rin and his wife did their best to stay strong and hopeful for her, but things only seemed to get worse.

Six months ago, he lost his wife and mother-in-law in a car accident. In such a short time, life had completely turned upside down for both Rin and his daughter. With trembling hands, Rin dialed his mother’s number, and she answered on the first ring.

“Rintarou?”

“Mom,” his voice cracked, and immediately, he was bombarded with questions. “No, no—everything is still the same… but I just got good news from the hospital…” he took a deep breath. They found a donor match for Ren. We’ll be going to the hospital tomorrow to get more information.”

“Oh, that is wonderful news. Thank the Gods,” she cried.

.

“The donor match currently lives in the US.”

Rin’s heart collapsed, “so… what does that mean?”

“When we submit test results to find a match, we don’t limit the search to within the country – it’s worldwide. We always consider the possibility that a match could come from anywhere,” Ren’s doctor explained, reminding them when they had agreed to allow any match. He gave a half-chuckle as if the situation amused him. “This is a unique case. The donor, a female adult, just so happens to be a vascular surgeon who specializes in kidney transplant patients. And now, she is getting first-hand experience.”

“Really?” Rin gasped.

The doctor nodded, “yes, I spoke to her directly this morning and she will fly out here with the time comes, so you do not need to worry about taking Ren abroad.”

A shaky breath is expelled from his chest and he looks down at his daughter who seems to be unaware of the conversation, just watching her iPad. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“If…” Ren’s doctor hesitated before continuing, “if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Suna, I cannot reveal certain details I can’t disclose, but when I saw the donor’s match results, I was honestly stunned.”

Rin’s head tilted as he frowned, “why do you say that?”

The doctor frowned slightly and scratched the back of his head. “I recall when we were conducting tests, your family members all agreed to come in and see if they were a match for Ren. Was that… all of the family members?”

All immediate family members were tested as soon as Rin and his wife found out they weren’t a match for their daughter. Rin’s brow furrowed. “Yes, my wife was an only child raised by her mother. Her parents divorced, and she hasn’t seen her father since she was one year old. I only have one sister and my parents. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No problem at all, the donor has matched the blood, tissue, and antibody types and is currently undergoing a health test, and as soon as they pass, we can move forward with the next steps.”

.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” Rin murmured as he carried her into their home. With her treatment, she is often tired and vulnerable. She would sleep at odd times throughout the day.

“Am I going to get better?”

“Yes, baby. You are,” he promised, “you’re going to get better very soon.”

.

Three weeks later felt long, but according to the doctor, it was an incredibly fast process.

The donor was on their way and will arrive in a few hours. They will have to conduct one final test before proceeding to the surgery.

Rin has offered to pay for their stay while they’re in the country but they have politely declined.

 He was thankful for this person but understood why they would like to remain anonymous.

“Some donor wants to remain anonymous to protect their confidentiality and protect the recipient.”

For some reason, Rin felt an overwhelming, eager desire to meet this donor. His heart yearned to encounter this person.

.

“Go, go enjoy a night out with the twins.”

Ren hugged her teddy bear tightly, “you’ll be back later to tuck me in?”

Rin nodded, crouching down to her eye level. “Just tonight, grandma will tuck you in, is that okay?”

She nodded, “okay, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, baby, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be home later but just late after your bedtime.” He kisses her forehead, “I’m just going out with uncle Osamu and Atsumu for their birthday.”

“Okay,” she answered with a  small smile, “tell them I miss them.”

Rin smiles, “I will, good night.”

.

“Thank the Gods my baby girl found a donor!” Atsumu slapped a hand over his heart. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

Osamu raised his glass of beer, “cheers boys, cheers to baby girl matching a donor.”

They all raised their glasses in sync. “Thank you, it’s wonderful news and everything is going well.”

“Are you going to meet the donor?” Atsumu asked.

Rin shook his head, “no, they want to remain anonymous.”

“So, that means you guys will never know this person who is giving their kidney to Ren?”

Rin nodded his head, “correct. It’s unfortunate, I really wish I could meet them to thank them but the best I can do is give them a card, maybe?”

“That’s a bummer,” Osamu muttered, “I understand where they’re coming from but it’s not like… you guys know each other, you know? What’s so bad about meeting each other.”

“I’m not sure either, but I’ll respect their wishes, it’s the least I can do after all they are doing for my baby girl,” Rin says, twisting his wedding band around his finger.

.

After parting ways with the twins, Rin decided to take a walk. He stuffed his hands into his jacket, the nights have become colder and colder. His wife’s favorite scarf hung loosely around his neck. It was one of the few items of hers that still had her scent and on days that he missed her more than usual, he would wear it, feeling a little closer to her.

It has been a while since he has gone out with the boys, let alone have some good beer and relax. It was much needed and he felt the buzz kick in.

It was a weekend and downtown was busy with a live crowd.

Normally he would avoid the crowd but something was pulling him towards that direction.

With a soft sigh, his feet began moving. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was going somewhere.

He needed to sober up before calling for a taxi, not wanting to return home intoxicated.

As he headed towards the busy part of town, it was like he was going through memory lane.

He is suddenly reminded of when he met his late wife Sumi seven years ago. They were set up through Osamu and his wife, Hayumi, and immediately hit it off. They married a year and a half later and welcomed their daughter shortly after.

Everything was going well, they were a happy family.

His heart nearly broke when his daughter was diagnosed with a disease that could take her away from him. His career was put on pause and he put his focus on his daughter alongside his wife.

His whole world completely shattered when he received the news his wife and mother-in-law were involved in a fatal car accident trying to make it to their daughter’s treatment.

He felt like a shell, barely living. The only thing keeping him going every day was his daughter.

A rush of school girls ran towards him, excitedly screaming as they recognized him.

“Oh my gosh! You’re Suna Rintarou!”

“Can I have your autograph!”

“Can we have a picture with you!”

Suddenly sobering up, Rin accepted the marker from one of the girls, signing his name and forcing a smile for the cameras.

“Goodness,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of life knowing he was still admired and recognized in the volleyball world.

“Excuse me, did you drop this?” A hand holding Sumi’s scarf.

“Oh,” Rin said, instinctively reaching for the scarf that was no longer around his neck. As he extended his hand to grasp it, he glanced at the person offering him. “Thank… you.”

At that moment, his world froze. It had been happening a lot lately, but this time, he truly felt everything stop. Time itself seemed to stand still as he stared into the eyes of the person before him.

How?

“Sumi?”

Her brow rose, “excuse me?” She blinked and then looked at the scarf and then up at him confused.

Rin grasped her shoulders, his eyes wide. “Sumi. Sumi?”

His grip around her tightened. His eyes scan her face. The eyes, the nose, the lips… everything looked exactly like his wife.

His breath heaved heavily, cold air burning his lungs.

He searched her eyes, finding anything that would prove it was his wife.

“You…” she breathed, her breath clouded the cold night.

He was unable to read her expression. Her eyes narrowed, in the way Sumi’s would when he and Ren was playing a trick on her.

His heart ache.

His hands drop and he turns away. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rubbed his face with his hands.

He was drunk.

He was hallucinating.

He turned around and the person was still standing there, looking at him with concern and hesitation. “Are you… okay?”

She looked so much like Sumi.

Exactly like her.

“You…” he blinked, tears blurring his vision. “You look - look so much like… my late wife.”

“I think you have the wrong person, I’m sorry.” She shoved the scarf into his arm and hurried away.

.

“Is something wrong?” Rin asked his daughter’s doctor who seemed to be distracted, unlike himself.

“No, Mr. Suna.”

Rin wasn’t convinced.

He had been unconvinced by anything since two nights ago when he ran into a woman who looked identical to his late wife.

Nothing made sense.

He swears by his life that he was not dreaming or hallucinating.

She looked exactly like his wife.

“It was strange,” Rin mumbled, his eyes fixed on the chipped wood of the desk. “The other night… I ran into a woman…” he trailed off, unsure of where he was going with this conversation with his daughter’s doctor. “She looked…”

“Just like your late wife.”

Rin’s eyes met the doctor’s eyes. “You’ve met her too?”

His breath caught before he softly replied, “that is your daughter’s donor.” A heavy silence settled between them. “I had a video call with her and couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought maybe… I was – seeing things? That was a similarity but then again, we were on a virtual call.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I met her… in person, this morning… and she shocked the living shit out of me.”

. . .

E/n: to try and combat this writing slump, I'll be posting random writings to get back so bear with me on this bandwagon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[moonstruckme]

Hey luv!! Saw your requests open and was curious if could do modern au w poly!marauders and nonbinary!reader who wants and gets top surgery. If not thats okay, just ignore!! 💋

Hi! As always with these, I have limited knowledge so please lmk if there's any inaccuracies or insensitivities! I'd be happy to fix them :) And thank you for requesting sweetheart <33

cw: reader is recovering from major surgery, vaguely suggestive (but barely)

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 864 words

James hops over the back of the couch as soon as you and Remus get in the door, instantly assailing you with tenderness. 

“How’d the appointment go?” he asks, providing a hand you don’t really need to go sit down on the couch. 

“Good,” you say honestly. You can hear Sirius coming down the stairs a second before he appears, giving you a quick up-down to assess your state before grinning at you. 

“Feeling good?” 

You laugh. “Yeah,” you reiterate, “it went well.” 

Remus chuckles, passing a sympathetic hand over your head as he rounds the couch to sag into the armchair. Your boyfriends are infinitely sweet in their attentions, but they’ve been treating your first post-op appointment like it’s Christmas. 

“So, is it off?” Sirius asks eagerly. 

You smile, nodding. “The vest is off, but I’ve still got the bandages until probably next week.” 

James’ knee immediately sets to bouncing as he takes a seat beside you. “Can we see?” 

“I’ve already seen,” Remus says smugly. 

James’ excitement fizzes in the air around you, and Sirius stalks toward you with purpose. A familiar tingle of apprehension skips over your skin as he leaps upon you, planting a knee on either side of your hips to keep from actually putting any of his weight on your lap. The couch springs groan in protest. Remus echoes them. 

“If you break our furniture, you’re buying the new stuff,” he warns. 

Sirius ignores him, fingering the button at the collar of your shirt. “May I?”

“Only if you quit flirting with me,” you say. 

“Christ,” James’ head lolls back on the couch cushion, “with those terms, we’ll never get to see.” 

But Sirius is already undoing your top, slender fingers making quick work of the buttons before he’s opening it up. You let the sleeves fall down your shoulders, unable to tamp down your own smile at the sight of your torso. 

“Fuck, baby,” Sirius breathes, running his thumb along the skin just underneath the bandages. Even though he’d seen your chest back at the doctor’s office, Remus leans forward in his chair to peek around James. “You look so good.” 

“I said no flirting,” you try to joke, but his eyes are earnest when they meet yours. 

“I mean it,” he says. 

Your face heats, a pleasant warmth blooming behind the bandages. 

“You really do,” James agrees. He’s looking from your chest to your face like he’s matching them up in his head. “You’re so perfect like this, angel.” 

You smile at him. “You’ve always said that, Jamie.” 

“I have,” he admits. “I mean, you’ve always been perfect, but you’re so you now, it’s like…” His smile unfurls, beatific, and your face scrunches up in apprehension a second before his smacking kiss lands on your cheek. “You’re perfecter than perfect.” 

“Cheesy,” you diagnose, the warmth of your skin increasing. “But thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Mm, you don’t look like you think it’s cheesy,” Sirius says, cupping the back of your neck and grinning at the heat he finds there. “You look quite pleased, actually.” 

“I can be both,” you counter. 

“I like seeing you this pleased.” James presses another, gentler, kiss to your temple. “You’ve seemed so happy since the surgery. I feel like I didn’t realize what we were missing out on before.” 

You tilt your head back against the cushions, looking at him. “Have I really?” You’ve certainly felt happier, but most of the time since your surgery has been spent in bed, alternately asking your boyfriends for help and complaining about how much help you need. 

James looks surprised you’d even ask, and Remus says, “Of course, dove. You carry yourself so differently, you thought we wouldn’t notice?” 

You feel your lips quirk, imagining yourself hobbling around during the walks James had forced you to go on because the doctor recommended it. “You mean like an elderly person?” 

“He means like a sure person,” Sirius says, and his gaze could melt you to the bone as it rakes from your chest up to your face. “You seem more at home in yourself.” He grins crookedly. “It’s hot.” 

“Easy.” James gives Sirius’ shoulder a little nudge. “They’re still not cleared for any of your depravities.” 

“Don’t know what you mean,” Sirius murmurs, bending to smear a kiss over the corner of your mouth. “Also, they haven’t said that yet. What did they say during your appointment, baby?” 

“I doubt that would fall under the list of sanctioned activities.” You’re unable to keep the tinge of giddiness from your voice, and your dastardly boyfriend grins at hearing it. “I’m still not allowed to do much. I thought I’d be able to shower this week, but no.” 

Sirius lights up at the last bit, and you narrow your eyes. Remus groans. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Remus says, managing to sound completely exasperated despite the humor in his eyes. 

“What?” you repeat, alarm increasing as Sirius’ grin spreads. 

James pats your shoulder consolingly, seeming to have also caught onto whatever’s made your boyfriend so happy. 

“I’ve found the perfect solution to our problem, sweetpea,” Sirius says, tone already wheedling. “I’ll just give you sponge baths.”

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Kate reminded me that with a heart of gratitude, I too can do hard things.

'Coming in the front entrance here, having made so many quiet, private visits, actually it's quite nice.'

Courage is being brave enough to do what you should do even when you're afraid.

January 17, 2025

The princess has had a lot of practice making the hard things look easy, and her recent visit to the Royal Marsden Hospital was no exception.

One year ago today, January 17, 2024, Kensington Palace informed the world that the princess was in hospital recovering from a major surgery, and she would be on a leave of absence until after the Easter holidays. Unfortunately she and her family were blindsided, and rightfully devastated by her unexpected pathology results which revealed that her surgery actually removed a malignant tumor. This news came on the heels of the king's own cancer diagnosis and an unprecedentedly vicious (where is kate) media campaign fueled by a sewer squad.

This week, Catherine marked her "cancerversary°" with gratitude when she generously allowed the world to witness her royal RETURN (to one of her medical facilities) with a heart of gratitude as a patient and also as the better half of a new patronage.

Unfortunately Catherine is no stranger to hospitals. She even spoke about the relief she experienced during childbirth because the hyperemesis gravidarum was finally behind her. She also explained that being ill is often harder on the caregivers who feel helpless, a sentiment she echoed as she engaged with cancer patients and staff.

"William didn't feel like he could do much to help...it's hard for the people around you to see you suffering"♡

'I recognise that beep!'

What many don't know is that Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome is very common in patients regardless of illness or treatment. Some "former" cancer patients become violently ill upon their return to a treatment facility. I personally know one (1) patient who became nauseous via telephone as she overheard the familiar beeping sound of an infusion pump.

"For me, I had all the memories of being in hospital & being sick. It wasn't the sort of place where I wanted to hang out & hang around so I was really desperate to get back to normality"♡

Catherine's medical journey should have been confidential. It wasn't anyone's business that she was diagnosed with a life threatening illness. Royals, presidents, elected officials and other celebrated people are today privately battling life threatening illnesses, a right she was denied. Although she was not afforded medical privacy, she and her family embraced yet another unfair hardship with grace, and they will use it to serve others.

Wimbledon 2024: This photo captured the pure joy that resides inside of The Princess of Wales. Despite the notable puffiness in Catherine's face (from all the chemotherapy drugs), the Princess still found a way to be happy as she showed up to serve the British people, and represent the royal family, as patron.

Gratitude is "letting others know that you SEE that they've helped."

One of the most teachable lessons on gratitude was documented by a Jewish physician named Luke, a disciple of Jesus Christ. Doctor Luke shared a historical moment of gratitude when ten (10) lepers were healed by Jesus but only one (1) returned to offer gratitude.

Be Thankful Luke 17:11-19 "While Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, he was going through the area between Samaria and Galilee. As he came into a small town, ten men who had a skin disease met him there. They did not come close to Jesus but called to him, “Jesus! Master! Have mercy on us!” When Jesus saw the men, he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” As the ten men were going, they were healed. When one of them saw that he was healed, he went back to Jesus, praising God in a loud voice. Then he bowed down at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. (And this man was a Samaritan.) Jesus said, “Weren’t ten men healed? Where are the other nine? Is this Samaritan the only one who came back (returned) to thank God?” Then Jesus said to him, “Stand up and go on your way. You were healed because you believed.”

Here's a sweet memory & teachable moment when Princess Charlotte expressed gratitude for her very own posy bouquet: "thank you."

Bravo Princess Catherine. We see you and we appreciate you! Thank you for continuing to use your influence to teach what is good. You've inspired us to do the same.

"It is a relief to now be in remission and I remain focussed on recovery. As anyone who has experienced a cancer diagnosis will know, it takes time to adjust to a new normal. I am however looking forward to a fulfilling year ahead. There is much to look forward to. Thank you to everyone for your continued support."

Memory Lane:

One month before Catherine would undergo her own surgery, she performed her patron duties for the Evelina London Children's Hospital

Inspirational Music for strength in the Journey

°A cancerversary is a compound word that describes a significant day of celebration for a person who’s experienced cancer. Cancerversaries can be celebrated anytime and anyplace. The specifics are to be determined by the celebrant. Some celebrants choose to celebrate cancerversaries annually on the specific day of diagnosis. Others choose to celebrate annually on the day of surgery when the cancer was removed from the body. Some choose to celebrate monthly and others celebrate day-by-day or minute-by-minute. Cancerversaries are as unique as the individuals who choose to celebrate them.

First Hospitalization

[fuck-your-proana-blog]

I'm so sick of pro anas glorifying anorexia by saying how "wonderful" and "lovely" it is to feel empty. This feeling does not last.. there might be a very short "honeymoon phase" with your restrictive ED where you think you're being "strong" and "pure" by starving when you first start losing weight, but it ends.. QUICK. I spent 13 years feeling what they described should make me feel "pure" and "lovely" and I HATED EVERY MOMENT. I was miserable, I developed organ damage, osteopenia, lost a good portion of my hair, my joints and ligaments are destroyed, my face was covered in lanugo, my gums recessed so bad my skull was exposed- clearly that would be painful, and it was- it got so bad I needed expensive, not covered by insurance surgery, which was the beginning of my recovery. Starving is never worth it. Now that I'm in recovery sure I gained weight, but I also gained satiety from food every day multiple times a day (which I can confirm feels better than starving), holidays don't scare me so much anymore, I eat more and exercise less than I have in 13 years and life is so much better. Weight is the least of what I've gained in recovery- I've gained the ability to eat at restaurants, not always know the calories of what I'm eating, a sense of humor (now that I'm not constantly angry/irritable that I feel like shit 24/7), a better relationship with my husband, and all the little joys that food, especially holidays surrounding food, can bring to our lives. If you reach your "ugw" and get diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, it is not an accomplishment. It is a sickness that will destroy your family, other relationships, body, and mind. Recovery or death are the only ways out of anorexia, and as I've recently learned through trial and error, I do not, in fact, want to die. I want to live- to wake up next to the love of my life and my cats, to have at least 3 meals a day so I'm never running on empty; it's amazing. Recovery is worth it, always- anorexia never is. So stop promoting it as some sort of badge of honor; it's not. Recover while you can, because 1/5 of anorexics die- either by starvation or suicide. I've been closer than anyone ever should be to dying of both. Being thin is not the most important thing in life, it really doesn't matter as much as the sickness in your mind convinces you it does. So get better, before your body and mind are so ravaged by your ED that there's no way out anymore.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for using my status as an agender person to get a surgery I want although I do not want it for gender-related issues ?

TW : talk of uterus, menstrual cycles and menstrual blood

I'll start by saying this is not the US so please don't make your judgement based on that. I'll describe how things are in my country.

So I (X24) want my uterus removed. The main reason is that I want to be sterilised to stop having so much anxiety about becoming pregnant, which would be a nightmare for me, and I never ever want this to happen again.

But I can't get any other form of sterilisation as then I would keep my uterus, so I would keep my period, and without hormonal treatment it's just not liveable. To give you an idea, my natural cycles are 21 days instead of 28, I get my period for 7 days instead of 5 and it can be hemorrhagic for up to 4 days of these 7. (I used to get post-op medication because of the hemorrhagia before I was under contraception.) And of course I get through excruciating pain every time, beside having iron deficiency among other things. I'm currently trying another hormonal contraception, it's still not going well. There is always something wrong. My first pill just stopped working, the next ones made me gain 20kg, I'm currently trying hormonal IUD and although I don't bleed as much, I bleed for so long and there is so much pain that no available painkillers can block. I'm so tired. I can't imagine going through that for another 15 to 25 years.

In my country, it is written in law that you are allowed to be sterilised using various methods, all of which keep the uterus. Nothing is said for hysterectomy as a sterilisation method. And although many refuse to sterilise you at all, if you find the right surgeon you can be no matter your age. The procedure is also fully reimbursed. Nothing is said in law about hysterectomy.

This means that the vast majority of surgeons won't remove your uterus. Except if you have a pathology related to it or if you're trans (coming back to that later).

So what I described above does look like a uterus with a pathology, right? It certainly looks like endometriosis at least. I went to a surgeon known for doing the other kinds of sterilisation and tried to convince him to just remove my uterus. He refused, not without an asserted pathology. To his credit, he looked for it. He had me take an MRI. Well, they found nothing.

Which means that, although I have a pretty dysfunctional uterus that I never want to use and just keeps causing me problems, he won't remove it. Because they can't find the cause. Even though I feel completely alienated from my body because of that damn organ that keeps trying to make me bear children and will have me bleed out and in pain when I won't allow it.

Then there is the other solution. I said above you could get surgery if you are trans. It's actually a bit more complicated that that. In order to get HRT and gender affirming surgery, you first need to get diagnosed with body dysphoria by a psychiatrist. And then you get a special status in our health system that allows you to get free access to all kinds of things in the medical field (like surgery and HRT) and beyond (like laser depilation).

As I said, I'm agender. They give this status to nonbinary people so my specific flavour of gender (or lack thereof) is not the issue. But I don't have body dysphoria, only social dysphoria. People misgendering me to my face will make me feel horrible but I don't see my body as gendered. My breasts and specifically my uterus are not something that I see as gendered, so they're not something that causes me distress in terms of gender-related issues. Which means as psychiatrist is never going to diagnose me with gender dysphoria as is, and I won't have access to hysterectomy through trans care.

Except if I fake it.

Now, I have no idea if it could even work. If I could even fool someone. But I've been considering trying because I really, really want to get rid of that damn uterus. And technically, I wouldn't be faking my gender identity. Just expanding on my dysphoria. Still, it feels wrong. I wouldn't transition in any other way except removing the uterus. This path doesn't feel like it's mine to take. I feel it would be disrespectful towards actual, dysphoric trans people.

So, what do you say Tumblr ? WIBTA if I tried it anyway ?

What are these acronyms?