#like i literally had real ass reasons i needed to cancel these appointments as well but ooohh noooo

[ofcowardiceandkings]

im .. always gonna be salty about my brief spit of contact with the ADHD clinic i was referred to because it was comically bad but mostly strike 3 on my already piss-poor opinion of mental health services in my area when i didnt have the freedom or mental bandwidth to try again

[qlistening]

Happy Pandemic-iversary

What’s up ladies. It’s around the pandemic-iversary and as you all know, I have appointed myself as head of commenting on shit that has happened during the pandemic and it’s time for a quarterly update. 

If I had to guess, each and every one of you has gone one of two routes since the beginning of last year.

Route 1: Realizing that everything inherently cool and fun would be cancelled and quickly deciding that some factor like your mental health or the quality of your college experience was more important than the social/public health consequences of partying during the pandemic. If you’re feeling attacked right now, worry not party girl. That is not my intention. I myself am a founding member of the “anything to feel something” club and a staunch believer that if you don’t take care of yourself, no one else will. 

Odds are that if you are in this group, you’re a wee bit entitled and/or your mental health is held together by a very thin thread. Taking away your regularly scheduled social interactions may have unboxed some demons that you would really like to tuck back in. I’m talking depression, anxiety, substance abuse, insecurity, issues with loneliness, etc.  You either used partying to slam the lid shut on that box, or like me, pulled out your demons, worked on them a little, and boxed them back up with more partying when you were over it. 

That’s growth baby! Nothing monumental, but you laid more groundwork for making it through your twenties than you would have otherwise AND you’re in a great position to reenter society when all this is over. Sure you were probably “on the wrong side of history”, but as long as you didn’t kill anyone, you will probably be able to live with yourself.

Route 2: The CDC said jump and you said “how high?”. These are my rule-following girly pops. My caring and empathetic girly pops. And of course, my girly pops who had inescapably valid reasons to avoid the rone at all costs. 

Your year has probably consisted of a mix of being infinitely proud of yourself for doing the right thing, infinitely frustrated with those who did not, and infinitely in denial about how much it sucked. You knew that the second you admitted to yourself that all of the whipped coffee, brisk walks, and zoom happy hours in the world were not going to be enough to keep you happy, you would fall into an inescapable cycle of depression that you had no hope of climbing out of in your isolated state. So you made up bullshit tasks to keep yourself occupied for an entire year.

You are a fucking hero for that, BUT your transition back into real life is not going to be easy. All of those little tasks that you invented have started to feel like legitimate priorities that you are having trouble distinguishing from your real responsibilities. You have to be prepared to let all of that deep cleaning and gourmet cooking go in exchange for going out to bars and showering more than twice a week. And just a tip from the pandemic party girl; socializing is not going to be fun and easy or any more stimulating than those made up tasks at first. But humans are social animals and you need to get in touch with whatever aspect of going out that you used to love so dearly. Whether that was making new friends, relentlessly pursuing some dick, showing off your cute outfits, sweaty dancing, or just getting fucked up, there was a reason you did this shit every weekend and you need to acknowledge it in order to connect with your former self.

Now that I have lumped you into these two different groups, it’s time to talk about the middle of the venn diagram: depression. Whether you hid from that shit at home or at He’s Not, odds are it caught up to you eventually. It was easy to predict that removing the majority of stimulation and fulfillment from life and throwing around the term “uncertain times” for a year would create a sub-pandemic of depressed ass bitches. 

I saw it coming from day one, but that only made it worse. Feeling your motivation and ability to find any means of generating serotonin slip away from you is a feeling I wouldn’t wish on anyone, yet have seen in almost everyone. I thought that seeing this shit coming would protect me from it and I was wrong. When it hit, I was consumed by the same sense of self loathing you feel when a boy fucks you over and you saw it coming, but didn’t have the strength to resist. 

Self loathing and emptiness are some raw fucking feelings and I hope to God that, at the very least, our shared experiences with these emotions has cultivated a broader sense of empathy in our cut-throat society. So far, that hunch has played out in the polls.

Empathy or no empathy, these feelings are still pervasive throughout the world and I’ll be damned if a single bitch with a marketing job was going to miss their chance to capitalize on this. With that, we have the birth of “wellness”. That world is honestly a trigger for me at this point because I, like many of you, was fooled into thinking it would be the antidote to depression. But what it really is is a well played scheme to sell things to people who are down bad and desperate to regain control over their health and well being. Believe me, I understand that this is a natural byproduct of capitalism, but there is something really insidious about an industry with marketing tactics that prey on people’s fear that something is wrong with them and offer them bullshit solutions to fix it.

Reading that back, I realize that is pretty much the textbook definition of marketing, but I’m standing by the fact that it is fucked up. Sorry if that offends anyone.

For all of you ladies who have been dropping bricks on supplements, jade rollers, and overpriced subscriptions to meditation apps, I am here to offer you a reality check. You do not need that shit. Don’t believe me? You don’t have to! Men are living proof that I am right. Most have never taken a vitamin, stretched, meditated, or eaten a vegetable besides corn and are literally fine.

If you want to partake in the wellness trend, fine, but don’t let that shit throw you into a state of body hyper-awareness where you manifest health problems just from worrying about them. Don’t reward the companies who did this to you with your money. And PLEASE do not pass up on the opportunity to do normal twenty-something fuck shit that would actually make you feel better for the sake of your made up health needs. 

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. There is plenty more to comment on, but I have to go outside and smoke my half cigarette before it starts to rain. See y’all next time I am bored enough to write one of these.

[bangchanshehe]

The Boogeyman pt. 2

Summary: You were constantly having the same reoccurring dream over and over again and your friends told you that it meant nothing. But as your nights became more strange as days passed by you knew that it was more than a dream. much, much more. You tried every night to stop the bizarre dreams from occurring in the same sequence to try to find out more about who or what was controlling them. But when you came face to face with the demon in your dreams in real life, you realized that what he had been telling you all along was true. There is no escape.

??? X Reader

Word Count: 3k

The rest of your morning passed as usual. You made your coffee at 6:30 am sharp, you did your hair and makeup and got dressed and made your way to work. The only difference between your morning and other people’s mornings is that you had only slept for 6 hours. You sighed to yourself once you were parked in the work garage and checked your reflection in the rear view mirror.

Fucking eye bags. You cursed under your breath.

You could tell that physically the lack of sleep was starting to get to you. You no longer had naturally dewy, well rested skin. Your eye bags had grown exponentially, and your mood. Most of all… your mood had taken a turn for the worse.

In your precinct you were always known as the most serious investigator, but lately a few co-workers had added some extra vocabulary to your name. detective “bitch-face”, was your favorite as of yet. You gathered up your bag, threw your keys and phone inside and held onto your coffee cup with a death grip as you prepared yourself for another day of mind-numbing work.

You had barely clocked in and sat your things down at your desk when your boss called you into his office. You rolled your eyes and mentally shifted into your role as a well mannered subordinate, before you stalked off to his office. You knocked twice on his glass door before welcoming yourself in.

“you wanted to see me?” you asked him with a straight face although you knew what he was calling you into his office for

“yes, take a seat y/n” he commanded in an authoritative tone

You obliged him and tried to make yourself comfortable in the stiff chairs.

“I know that you are having some trouble in dealing with the suicide cases y/n.” he started and you let out a sigh “I think that we need to put this case to rest not only for our sake but also for the family’s sakes” he leaned forward at his desk and spoke softer to you “simply put there is nothing further to investigate, and there is no sign of foul play in either of these women’s cases.”

You knew that the correct and polite thing to do would be to agree with your boss, but you had a hunch that you couldn’t get rid of. And you knew that if it was you in those women’s shoes, that you would want for someone to try their best for you.

“all do respect sir, ill have to disagree” you started “I’ve spoken to the families and neither of them mention mental illness or indication of suicide. Their work life, social life and financial stability was solid. There was no reason for those women to have motivation to take their own life. I’ve already –“

“let me stop you right there” your boss interrupted you mid-sentence. “we don’t know for sure that these women weren’t suffering from any mental illness. We cant say that they didn’t commit suicide just because they were perfect on paper.” He shook his head in disagreement

“sir, I’ve spoken with the medical examiner and they say that there is no sign of natural death….” You gave him a stern look and he gave you one back “these women essentially just dropped dead. Nothing in their system, nothing wrong with their health. It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I want you to dismiss the case.” He said firmly

“if either of these women were your daughter or wife, would you want someone else to just dismiss the case sir?” you asked him

He paused for a long while giving you a pointed glare before finally looking down at his desk and back up at you again. “y/n, I am going to give you one more week to work on this case. Either you bring me more evidence that this was a homicide by that time, or we dismiss the case. Is that understood?” he asked you

“yes sir! I appreciate it sir!” you said with a small smile, happy that you had talked him into giving you some more time.

You walked out of his office with more motivation than ever to help these women and their families. You made your way back to your desk, unpacked your files and looked back over their cases, starting with the basics.

Looking over the autopsy results the women seemed to be perfectly healthy beings with nothing in their system other than an sleeping aid.

You didn’t find that the fact that they might need help with falling asleep strange, but if you were going to produce results by the end of the week you had to cross all of your t’s and dot all of your I’s. starting with a call to a medical examiner.

You picked up the phone and dialed the examiner less than hopeful to find anything of significance but unwilling for the case to be dropped without finding any further answers.  

“hello, this is examiner song speaking. How can I help you?” a friendly and familiar voice answered

“Hi, Mr. Song this is detective Y/N speaking. I have a few questions for you in regards to the double suicide case. Are you free right now?” you asked him as friendly as possible hoping it would gain you the favor

“oh! Sure ask away!” he said as chipper as ever

“I see from the report that both of the women were both using a sleeping aid and I was wondering if the dose that they had in their system was typical and if you had any other information on this medication?”

He hummed for a moment “the amount still left in the blood stream was pretty typical for a sleep medication, particularly if they had taken it that night. There doesn’t seem to be any signs of drug abuse or abnormalities. However, I don’t know too much about the medication other than its prescription and you have to have some serious sleep insomnia to get prescribed it.” he mentioned

You quickly scribbled down the name of the drug on a piece of paper and thanked the examiner before you hung up the phone. Looking back over the files for the women you quickly look up their family physician’s number only to find that the women both go to the same doctor.

You wrote the number down underneath the name of the medication and stuck in on your computer monitor. You highly doubted that it was a strong lead to pursue since doctor song said the levels look normal and decided to save it for later.

You restlessly looked over your notes and files calling anyone who you think would have any additional information on the women, before you finally noticed that it was close to 11.

You pulled out your phone and text your best friend who was a practicing therapist in your area. You had met her because of work and ever since then you were glued to each other. You smiled to yourself remembering how comfortable it was for the two of you when you had first met. It was like you had just met your best friend who you hadn’t seen for a while and had a ton to catch up on.

The entire reason that you were there to begin with was because you were injured on the job and was told to go as a part of probation until you were “better again”, which was short for do your required 3 appointments for an hour and you’ll be cleared to be back on the force again. But the two of you were so close that you met often after your standard three meetings. Only this time you often met at a bar, after business hours for the both of you.

Hey, want to get Mexican food for lunch around 12? You sent here knowing that she was done with her standard 10-11 appointment. You had looked away for only a moment before you had heard your phone vibrate.

ABSOLUTELY! I have the craziest story to tell you when I get there! Get ready!

You laughed quietly at her text. She always had some crazy story to tell you about her clients. Was it technically legal for her to do so? No, not really. But she was at least responsible to change the names and places in her stories so that at least identities were protected. Plus, since she worked strictly with more upscale clientele, she heard a lot of stories about wild affairs, extravagant parties and occasionally a celebrity gone bad.

You locked your phone and put it down on your desk hoping that within the next 45 minutes you’ll be on a better track then you currently were.

  “so you would never believe what happened today!” your friend started off excitedly from across the table, drink in hand “my typical 10 o’clock canceled on me today… whatever, no big deal. But come 9:50ish I get this message from the receptionist that a certain very attractive celebrity wanted to book a same day appointment with me if at all possible. So I’m all ‘hell yeah! Get his ass in here!’ and when he came into my room he told me this story about how he drunkenly married a woman from a foreign country, spent the next three amazing weeks with her in paradise and now she’s gone and he’s completely torn apart from it” she said like it was the wildest news she had ever heard

You stared at her from across the table wondering where she was going to go with her story. Unamused or impressed with what she was telling you

“and I mean like full blown ugly crying in my office over this girl. He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture after picture of her proclaiming that she was the most attractive woman he’d ever met. And eventually at the very end he said that he had received a message from her saying that she was pregnant with another man’s child and wanted to be with him to raise the baby” she stopped to take a breath “I mean the poor guy was really losing his marbles over this chick. But as he’s walking out of the building I literally see him eye fucking some chick and then without a word she just gets into his car and they drive off together to do god knows what!” she finally finished

You raised your eyebrows at her and gave her a look of disbelief. You wouldn’t have believed your ears if it weren’t for the fact that you had some of your own run ins with celebrities or word of celebrities in her office.

“that’s so crazy!” you said confused over such behavior.  “hey I have a question for you about a medication and I have no clue if you’ll actually know anything about it.” you said pulling out your sticky note with the name scribbled across the top

She leaned over to look at the name and immediately perked up. “oh yeah I prescribe that pretty often to patients who need help sleeping.” She said before looking up to you “why? Are you looking into a new sleep medication?”

You sighed and put the note away. “well I found it through a case and had never heard of it, so I figured I’d ask. Is it any good?” you asked her

She scoffed and giggled “it’s the best thing that anyone has invented since bread.” She said “fuck all of the older sleep medications. This one is the best. Plus… there’s a little more that goes into it than just getting the drug from a store. You take a questionnaire and they give you an at home test so they can create it to be designed more for what you need.”

Your eyes went wide and you sat back in your chair happy to hear about how good the medicine was. Whatever the price was you would be willing to pay for a decent night’s sleep again.

You pulled out your phone and googled the drug, and scheduling was much simpler than you thought, you made an appointment for 5:30 so you could go straight after work.

“thank you my sweet, sweet friend. I’ll see you later!” you said with a smile on your face shoving one last tortilla chip in your face before you ran to your car so you could get back to the office on time.

  The rest of the shift went by terribly slow and you were actually itching to get out of your chair come five o’clock. You had done literally everything that you could have to cover your basics with the case but everything seemed to run into a dead end.

You quickly packed up your belongings and raced out the door so you wouldn’t be late for your appointment. You were as giddy as a school girl to find something that might finally help you feel like a normal human being again. and as soon as you pulled up to the offices for the drug you smiled.

Utopia Inc. you read to yourself, before getting out of the car and walking towards the doors.

Once inside you were impressed with how comfortable and yet clean the offices were. You took a seat in a chair and began reading over the paperwork and questionnaire.

Are you getting more than 5 hours of rest? No.

Do you have trouble falling asleep? No.

Do you have trouble staying asleep? Yes.

On a scale of one to ten how would you rate your average nights rest? 4

Are you currently using any other sleep-inducing medications? No.

What is the average time that you sleep in one night? 4-5 hours

You sighed as you looked over the remaining questions. You couldn’t even remember the last time that you had a decent nights sleep and you were more than anxious to have that back. But the questions were a little dull. You were hoping that the questions would be a little more in depth than the traditional sleep surveys you’ve done in the past.

As you filled out the remaining few questions your name was called by a nurse and you quickly stood and approached her.

“please come this way miss Y/l/n” She said opening a door and walking down a long hallway full of doors. She stopped in front of a office and held the door open for you “ go ahead and have a seat, and the doctor will be ready in just a moment”

You thanked her and took a seat in the stiff looking chair. You read the posters on the walls and looked around the room while you waited, bored and nervous all at once.

Knock, knock.

Your head snapped up and a friendly looking man walked into the room.  He peaked his head into the room and gave you a warm smile before introducing himself.

“hi y/n! my name is Jongho and ill be taking care of your sleep test and diagnosis.” He held out his hand for you to shake and you accepted with a smile “I already looked over your questionnaire and it looks like you have some symptoms of severe sleep insomnia” he explained

“which I have some good news and some bad news with that. Unfortunately there is no cure for sleep insomnia, however after we run some sleep tests on you we can get an idea of what kind of medicine you need to regulate your sleeping patterns” he explained to you very calmly and coolly.

Knock, knock.

The two of you turned your head to see who the new intruder was in the room and you were surprised when you saw a very attractive man walk into the room with a bright smile. Jongho was surprised as well by the new guest in the room and looked back over to you with a smile only to give the man a curious glare.

“hello my name is Hongjoong!” the man said extending his hand “ill be assisting doctor choi”

“y/n” you said taking his hand

You couldn’t help but notice the strange way that the physician looked to the man before he looked back at you with an awkward smile. For some reason it made you feel unsettled

“right, so all you have to do is turn on this device and put it on your finger as you sleep for the next week and it will record all of the information that we need. From there once we look at the reports we will form a diagnosis and get you the perfect medication to help you out. Re-testing can occur at any time if you feel that the diagnosis was incorrect and you need a different medication. Any questions?” he asked you with a smile

You shook your head and jongho smiled back at you. He gave you a bag with the necessary equipment and a packet with questions and answers on insomnia. He scheduled an appointment for a week from now and you were completely ready to go home. He shook your hand one last time before you left the office and on your way out Hongjoong stopped you.

He handed you a business card and you accepted it.  it was simple with his name, email and phone number  on the card. “please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or difficulty during the tests”

You looked him over once more noticing how differently he was dressed compared to doctor Choi who was in a white medical gown and business casual clothes. He was wearing a suit that looked like it cost a fortune and he had the air around him like he was a man who didn’t work with people all day long. he seemed impatient, guarded and utterly too perfect.

you smiled at him once before leaving the long hallway and entering the reception area once more. happy like a child on Christmas you carried the box to your car and set it down carefully in the passenger seat as if it were a precious treasure. You looked back up at the building one last time before you pulled away and smiled. Hopefully this would be the answers to your prayers and help you start a happier and healthier chapter in your life.

[blackrosesfanfic]

Chapter 211

Cammie

"Really?" I giggle.

"Girl, yes."

I chuckle. I was talking to Kiesha Cole about her kid's grandmother. "What? Me and Trey's mother went out last night. Just the two of us. That's not normal is it?"

"Hell no."

"Well, I don't have a bad attitude like you." I laugh.

"Oh, bullshit." She snaps. "Don't get me started on you helfa. I swear."

I pick Caden up then lay him on the scale that the lady had tapped. Me and Caden are at the doctor's office. April and Lane are at the house. Trey is wherever he is being a jackass for some odd reason.

"Let me get off the phone. This boy lost weight."

"Oh no. Okay. Call me back and let me know what's going on."

I sigh then pick him up. "Like... can you zero it again."

The nurse does. "Has he had more wet diapers? Diarrhea? Maybe increased vomiting?"

"No." I say blankly.

"Well we will figure it out. What about changes in diet? Are you still breastfeeding?"

I sigh taking him off the scale. He had lost 8 lbs. What the hell?

"He was at his grandma's for a few days. I breastfeed him when he is home."

"He might not be taking in as much with the bottle." She suggests. "Let's have the nutritionist come down and ask some questions."

I try not to cry. "I'm starving my baby."

"No. He isn't starving. He hasn't been crying more has he?"

"No."

She nods. "Don't worry. If he not in any discomfort then he will be fine. We see this all the time with mothers going from bottles to breast."

I don't say nothing to her. She leaves not for a few minutes. I dress Caden back up and hold him up in front of me. He doesn't look like he lost any weight. I don't need the stress in my life of him not doing good. I really don't. There's a tap on the door.

"Nutrition. Good morning."

"I guess. Why is my baby losing weight?"

She smiles hard. "Because he is a baby. No I'm just kidding. Don't worry. Let's talk about solids. Have you added them to his diet?"

"Rice but it makes him gassy."

"Try to introduce something else. Maybe cereal with less milk. Something through a spoon. If he hasn't had any changes in his diet then he needs more nourishment. You getting to the stage where breastmilk just isn't enough."

I wipe my eyes. "Okay. He has been away from e more in the last few days. Not breastfeeding, just bottles."

"Formula?"

"Breastmilk."

She writes some stuff down on her paper. "That could be another thing. Let's do this, stop crying. 8 lbs is nothing. He came along way and 8 lbs will do nothing to him. Let's stay away from the bottles for at least a week. He could be hungry but getting exhausted from how different the milk flows. If he gains weight we will know that's the problem. But if he has more weight loss we will know he needs more solid foods. He is 3 months if you start at his expected birth date. So we can't advance him too fast. So we can't expect him to be an expert at both breastfeeding and bottle feeding."

I inhale holding it then exhale. "Okay, breastfeed for a week exclusively then come back for a weigh in?"

"Correct. Depending on his weight we will either get him some new bottles or add solids."

"I have a very busy week. What if... nevermind. I'll just cancel anything that forces me to be away from home for more than 3 hours. Okay."

"And Mommy. Make sure you are drinking enough fluids with your increase in activity. Also make sure you are eating enough."

I make my eyes big. "Wait that could effect my milk? Like the calories?"

She smiles. "No. But you don't want to become unhealthy. Yes, it's about baby but remember Mommy."

"Okay." I say fixing Caden's clothes. "I need to get Lane in here for an appointment. See if he losing weight."

"He is walking and talking. Let's focus on Caden."

I put Caden in his seat. "I feel like I'm always focused on Caden. Caden?"

He watches me like bitch get me back out of here. I sigh then turn to the doctor. She was writing some more stuff down. I wonder what she is fucking writing. I roll my eyes and take out my phone. I feel like being grimy and not even letting Trey know nothing. He is being a real jackass. Like he literally told me not to call him. Like when has me calling you ever been a fucking issue? I have always called this man when I fucking wanted. I'll talk to April and let her tell him. Or maybe Forrest. It might piss him off more to hear Forrest ranting about Caden being sick... well losing weight.

 Trey

Forrest sucks his teeth. "Aye, you already know what the deal is with that. Fuck yeah. Love you too, sis. Yeah."

"What?" I snap.

"Damn, I can't fucking come in here?"

I put my phone down. "No."

He shrugs. "Well any fucking way. I'm leaving. You being a fucking dick."

"Sounds like you gonna fucking cry."

"Naw. But anyway. You know your fucking kid had a doctor's appointment today? Don't worry about calling Cammie cause she said she rather not deal with your shit. But Caden lost 8lbs. At his age he supposed to be growing she say. So she has to exclusively breastfeed for a few days. I just want you to know that you being a fucking bad ass husband and father right now. You not even doing shit in Miami. You just here to be away from there. But anyway."

I sit up. "Bitch, you don't know what the fuck I have to do."

"You just sitting here."

"I fucking got here early bitch."

He shrugs. "Yeah, and that bitch that just so happened stood you up just so happened to contact you cause you here early? Okay though. I won't tell cause your wife not stupid. But I'm leaving cause if I see you with another bitch my lips might just run themselves."

"Bye then bitch. I don't give a fuck."

"Aight." He says shutting the door.

I shake my head. Fuck every fucking body. I call the doctor that was seeing Caden when he was in Atlanta.

"Mr. Neverson, I received Caden's update just a few minutes ago."

"I was calling to see if you could explain it to me. I mean how bad is losing 8 lbs?"

He takes a deep breath. "Honestly at this stage of brain development it can be critical. But the brain does have its defenses. It will slow the growth of his body in proportion to the brain. Right now he only lost undetectable body fat. His face is still round and his belly is still fat. We will know more after exclusively breastfeeding. He might have missed his mother and ate less. You never know. Just keep an eye on changes in diaper patterns. Things such as using more or less."

"Alright. Sounds good. Just wanted to know what you think."

"Keep Cammie focused. I warned the doctor there about how she worries. Just reassure her that everything is okay. Babies go through these things."

I nod. "Alright. Well do."

He hangs up the phone. I feel like shit. I'm not going to reassure shit. I'm not feeling no fucking remorse about the shit I've been doing. I simply feel like shit and nothing makes it better. I drop the phone on the bed. I had some damn Xanax pills. I grab my bag and pour some in my hand. I sit there staring at them. Get lost to the world or deal with my problems? I shake a few back into the container. Not that far away from the world. I throw them in my mouth and swallow them dry.

April

"Ma." Forrest blows when I answer the phone. "Trey being a damn fool. What are we going to do?"

I chuckle. "Nothing. I got my grandbabies."

"Caden with you too?"

"Yes."

He sucks his teeth. "He gonna fucking destroy everything. We not gonna sit around and let that happen."

I flip Caden over on his belly. "Baby, some times you have to let people fall on their ass."

"Ma." He snaps. "Damn, what's wrong with everyone? He could lose his kids."

"No he will not. If anything he will lose his wife."

Forrest blows frustrated. "You gonna let that happen?! What is really going on?"

"I went to Trey when he was in LA acting like he had left the state. I simply told him that he fucking up. He does not care right now. He wants to self destruct. Let him."

"I can't believe this shit." He says hanging up on me.

I pinch Caden's little thigh. He finds that so funny that he couldnt hold his own head up anymore. Lane brings himself over to the bed. He was acting like an asshole two minutes ago. He is so emotional and bad. He stares at Caden to see what's funny. I pinch Caden's thigh again making him laugh. Lane reaches for Caden then pulls his hand back. He stares at his hand then starts licking it.

"Lane, gotdamn it. What the fuck is that?" I ask grabbing his hand.

"Chocolate."

I smell it. I was relieved that it was actually chocolate. "Where did you get chocolate? Were you in your mama's room?"

"No."

"Are you lying to me?"

He licks his hand. "No, ma'am."

I grab a wipe then his hand. "Let me clean it up before you have it all over the house."

"No!" He yells pulling his hand away from me and stomping his feet. "Stop! Ouch!"

I let him go. This boy is bad. He hits the floor smearing chocolate on the carpet. He looks at his hand then he starts screaming. So much for not getting that chocolate all over the place. He brings me his hand crying really loud. I don't know if he crying cause he hurt or if he think he in trouble.

"It nasty!" He cries shoving his hand at me.

"Boy." I snap grabbing it and wiping it off. "You are enough by yourself."

He frowns at me. I clean his hand then turn Caden over. He had started to cry. He has been doing that lately whenever Lane cries. They are both too much. I give Caden his pacifier. Cammie went to the studio for an hour to teach her assistant something about the routine she was teaching a group. Well now the assistant is teaching the group.

"I sleepy." Lane says grabbing Caden's pacifier. "Caden? Caden?"

"Caden can't talk."

"Why?" Lane says stuffing the pacifier in his mouth roughly.

I sigh. Caden didn't mind. "He doesn't know how."

Lane pokes Caden's stomach making him smile and drop the pacifier. Lane does it again. Thank God he wasn't being too rough with his poking. Lane frowns his face at Caden. He touches his cheek.

"Caden hurt."

"No he is okay. Just a scratch."

Lane pushes Caden's face to the side to get a better look. "Who did it?"

I chuckle. "Caden did it. His nails at too long."

"I do it."

"Lane let's not cut his nails."

He was determined. He walks out of the room then he comes back. This smart ass little boy brings back the kit Cammie had. It had nail clippers and other stuff for Caden. Lane taps it showing me the clippers. I take them out. He makes his eyes big then grabs Caden hand. He understood what was happening. I start cutting Caden nails.

"Careful." Lane attempts to say.

"Okay." I smile.

True definition of brother's keeper. I instantly think about Forrest. He is worried about his brother like his brother worries about him. Of course I don't want to see Trey lose his family. But I tried. He is at that point where my opinion doesn't matter. Forrest's opinion means nothing. I watch Lane's little eyes carefully making sure I dont hurt his brother. They have it from birth. It can't be faked. It's just them. I wait until I'm finished then call Cammie.

"Hey, Ma. Everything okay?" Cammie says out of breath.

"With the boys everything is okay. I'm just worried about Trey. He has been acting stupid distant."

She sighs. "Yeah. I think so too. I just don't have time for that."

"Well Cammie who else is going to have time for it if you don't?"

"True." She sighs. "There's nothing I can do from LA and he won't come home. You know he hasn't called about Caden?"

"I'm sure he called someone asking questions."

She sucks her teeth. "Well who fucking else should know better than his wife? Ma, I'll be home shortly."

"He might need that extra push."

"I'll think about it. It's always about him. I want to be selfish too."

I pick Lane up on the bed. "Yes, baby, I know. But your marriage. These boys. The promise you both made them."

She sucks her teeth. "Bye, Ma. I'll think about that later."

"Okay, Baby. We'll be here napping."

"Okay."

I feel confident in that conversation. If anybody can get him out of his shit, its Cammie. If she fucking wants to. I just didn't want to help his dumbass. He probably somewhere cheating on her. Fucking dumbass. But anyway. I tried.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

I’ve been playing some Toy Story 3 recently, right, because the Xbox Ultimate Game Pass includes Xbox Live Gold and that means two temporarily free Xbox 360 games each month (and two better games for the Xbone, which of course I don’t have), and this one is only available until Dec. 15 so I figured I’d give it a try while I could because it has decent reviews. I’ve completed two levels plus some of the sandbox stuff, and I picked up a few achievements so that’s nice, and as movie tie-in games go I think probably it actually is pretty well-done, but also I just...I hate it.

the vast majority of it is 3D platforming, which I don’t love under the best of circumstances, and I’m sure this doesn’t actually count as a precision platformer but the characters are always running, some of the platforms are pretty damn small and surrounded by instant death, and some bits do require really precise timing and that is always something I hate. checkpoints are also spaced out a lot more widely than I’d like, so when there’s a really difficult part of a level followed by a slightly less-difficult part or something, not only do you have to start over every time you die on the really difficult part, you will also have to re-do the really difficult part if your finger twitches wrong on the slightly less-difficult part following it. and as far as I can tell, you can’t actually save your progress through any of the major levels--checkpoints save your progress within levels, but if you back out to the home screen for any reason even after saving your game, there doesn’t seem to be an option to pick up where you left off in the level. you have to start the level ALL OVER AGAIN, which means you have to re-do all the parts that nearly made you rage-quit before you can try again on the part that actually made you rage-quit.

the worst part, of course, is that it’s a Toy Story game and it has good reviews, and the achievement walkthroughs are full of things like “this is a really simple one, just finish the level” when I’m dying over and over again on every single part of a level that seems to be stretching on forever...so not only am I hardcore failing at a game designed for children, I don’t even have a good excuse because nobody else seems to be having trouble with it. like, I rage-quit LIMBO several times but that’s supposed to be hard and everybody dies a million times, right? but again, Toy Story 3 is literally designed for kids, and by general consensus it’s not a crappy tie-in game with clunky controls, it’s reasonably well-designed and intuitive with responsive controls, so it’s not like I can say “oh, this was originally made in the N64/PS1/PS2/whatever era and those were pretty much all hard and/or poorly designed even if they were theoretically meant for kids so I don’t have to feel additionally bad if it’s frustrating me”. no, apparently I’m just really bad at a children’s game that everybody else seems to find easy.

why am I talking about this? well, last night I was struggling with it again and not only was I not having fun, I just felt exhausted every time I died and had to start over, and I finally got to a part requiring precise timing that I could not do and after several attempts I was getting so furiously frustrated and tired I honestly wanted to cry. (partly because of my probably-ADHD-related issues with emotional dysregulation? seems like it!! good times!!) the dumbest part was that it was getting late and I just wanted to stop playing and go to bed, but that would mean losing all my progress and all the time and effort and stress I’d already dumped into it would have accomplished nothing (and yeah I was fully aware this was a sunk-cost fallacy but it’s...also true?), plus I felt stupid and vaguely guilty for struggling so much with a well-designed children’s game and I didn’t want to give up and let the game beat me, you know? it was pissing me off and I wanted to kick its ass, but in struggling to do so I was basically...letting it hurt me and drain all my energy and keep me up late when I wasn’t even mildly enjoying myself.

and then something clicked in my head and I realized the real underlying reason I felt like I couldn’t just quit: I was literally punishing myself for not being good enough. I’m sure this wasn’t the first time, either, even if it was the first time I consciously recognized what I was doing. and it’s probably a good thing to realize, in this specific case because then I went “okay that’s fucked up” and finally quit the stupid game but also in general for understanding some of my fucked-up thought patterns, and at the same time it’s like...okay cool, my thought patterns are fucked up in a way I didn’t really recognize until just now, but what the hell do I do about it?

there’s...really no point to this unnecessarily long post, it was just a weird uncomfortable thing I realized so I wanted to dump it out somewhere, but also now I’m even more annoyed that the most progress I’ve made on getting back into mental-health treatment is getting put on a waitlist for one therapist and having to reschedule a different assessment for February because icy roads meant the provider canceled my Monday appointment. WORK WITH ME HERE, Y’ALL, I NEED TO UNFUCK MY BRAIN

[anonymoustoddler]

I got stoned and found out some things and started writing a facebook post. And then... it turned into whatever the hell this is:

I went to NYU from 2005-2009.

Ilana Glazer.. apparently went to NYU from 2005-2009.

We graduated at the same time.

ALSO, I thought Rachel Bloom was older but NO, she was there too. And everyone seems to know her except for me.

She didn’t even go to Tisch, or study acting or writing or.. any of it. Rachel did. But all three of us sat in Yankee Stadium at the same time and listened to Hillary Clinton give our graduation speech. We had all the same opportunities and general access, the same potential for experience, exposure, connections, and a career.

And now they are there.

And my BFA’d ass is... right here.

It’s just really strange to think about that. Maybe if I had somehow done things quite differently, I’d be there instead.

Probably not, to be honest. I know I’ve never had whatever that thing is that makes certain people magnetic. I’ve never been the one to stand out in adulthood. I think, in fact, that many people find me rather dull compared to the shine of others in this field. But maybe... maybe if I’d really worked for it, for real. Maybe if I could have put everything into the work instead of most of it into all the wrong places with just a shaving of energy and effort and commitment left over.

But also. Something happened to me, back then. When I left Northview and Grand Rapids and Michigan to head for New York, I believed in my talent. I believed in myself in that way, if not much else. I knew I could do it, and do it well.

A lot of people seem to come into themselves in college. Find themselves, find their people, their passions and strengths, their future. But I think I had the opposite experience altogether. From my very first day in New York, I felt Weird. Different. Loser. Less than. Behind. Misunderstood. Shamed. Overlooked. Ignored. Doubtful. Anxious. Depressed. Afraid. Embarrassed. Hidden. Invisible.

It was a slow motion dissent into the earlier stages of where I am now. But nobody noticed. No one saw an eating disorder or depression or tremendous anxiety. No one saw severe mood instability, executive dysfunction, a strained and codependent and complicated two person family relationship. No one saw the things going on and attributed them to “She’s not ok.” It was always, “She’s immature. She’s selfish and lazy. She doesn’t WANT to grow up, so she’s keeping herself in states of dependency so she never has to try.” “She just doesn’t want any of it badly enough. If she did, she’d be doing the work to get it.”

I wonder, sometimes. If I hadn’t been sick and scared and alone, with only so much understanding at the time of what was happening to me and no understanding of what I was preparing to become; if I had real and proper help from any doctor or professor or from my mom - because I did not understand the severity of my need for help back then, and I thought my family doctor, a PA who actually really fucked up my life multiple times with her loose prescription pad and severe lack of knowledge of what she was doing, had me covered - what might I have accomplished instead of spending most of my free time in bed, balancing a part time job but barely able to take on anything else. 30 hours a week in retail plus commuting was literally everything I had in me WHEN I WAS AT MY BEST IN LIFE. When I was the closest I ever got to being a rack rate size, when I was still able to prioritize limited money spending, still eating both regularly and healthfully (as much so as I’ve ever been), still exercising simply by getting around, sleeping ok enough for the most part and generally on a more normalized schedule. I mean — I got up at 6 to be at work at 8 OFTEN. It was excruciating sometimes, but other times it was fun to get up and get ready for work. I had routines. I loved getting off the train at my SoHo stop and, depending on which line I took and how much time I had, getting my coffee at Starbucks or at Aroma, so overpriced but an entirely different experience and worth the convenience and sometimes a pastry to go along.

I’ve gotten quite entirely away from myself, but.. I was doing the best I’ve ever done or maybe will ever do. And I still could not work to pay my bills and also take voice and tap and jazz and scene study and exclusive workshops and networking events and open calls and appointment auditions and keeping up with theater and film and the business and and and.

I went to a handful of auditions in 2013 and 2014 - My Only Almost Good Years. Things were actually pretty horrible for the majority of them but it was also mostly the closest I ever got to Good in the beginning.

Regardless, I subscribed to Actors Access and I got the only real headshots I ever had taken and I submitted and submitted and submitted (not nearly as regularly or often as I should have, because I was still too scared then. I still gave a shit.) and I very occasionally got an audition. I submitted for a commercial call Under 18 girls skin care. I got called in. When the CD saw me, she told me they were only considering minors, but she wanted to keep my headshot and info anyway. I never heard from her again.

I got a call for a short film once (or was it a web series? Who knows) and even got a callback. But no part.

I did one show in those two years. Technically I guess one could argue two if you count the weird little Christmas play I did for no money right after I moved at the end of 2012, but. Aside from that... one casting. One.

In New Jersey. No pay - travel stipend included.

I was 24 years old playing a 12 year old in an aged down musical version of Three Sisters set in 1970s New Jersey. “We have to get back to Mosc- New York City!” But with generic numbers telling most of what little story there was.

And then I took an acting class, I fell and injured myself, my body wasn’t ever the same after that, and by the time my shoulder was as normal as it would ever be again, my brain was really starting to crack. I was depressed and anxious. I hated living in Brooklyn, I hated having no friends after so briefly being close with Jenn. I hated my roommate, the only man I had ever lived with before George. And no wonder. He was one of the worst people I’ve ever met, I think. The worst kind of fucked up Entitled Vaguely Wealthy White Male. He enjoyed making me upset, making me feel unsafe. He listened to me express my issues with things he did and instead of even pretending to care about living harmoniously, he laughed in my face and used every chance he could get to fuck with me for the kick of it. He was rude and weird and cold and cruel and cocky and prideful and hateful and gross and mean. He was selfish and thoughtless and manipulative. I knew he felt wrong from the moment I met him. I knew. But our third roommate was chill and relaxed and flexible, she seemed to get along with both of us enough so I thought she could and would act as a buffer if it ever came to that. I knew but I loved the apartment, and he found it and I didn’t have any friends to grab it out from under him with. I knew he was a bad guy and someone I might well have real trouble with and discomfort around, but Jenn had gone silent and enemy for reasons and in ways I will never, ever understand. One day she was my friend, and the next she was putting locks on her doors and saying I should really move out of HER apartment as soon as possible. She stopped speaking to me. She passive aggressively left disgusting messes all over the apartment. She locked the living room television in her bedroom and told some version of events in which I was the bad guy somehow to friends who we both went to school with, people I knew and liked. They in turn randomly met my coworkers and proceeded to say horrible things about me, and the only reason I even know is because one of them told me about it in the break room the next time I worked.

I knew Nick was a terrible risk in multiple ways. But I had to get out of the apartment because at the time I didn’t think it could be worse than living with Jenn, and Dan was a third who I thought would be in my corner, and the apartment was so much nicer than most of the places I had lived. I thought I could make it work. I thought that move was going to save me.

By the time my headshots were taken, I was beginning to lose feeling in my legs. I was struggling to keep treading water and starting to drown. I never got the free retouching because I never chose my final shots. I never chose because I barely submitted for auditions. I was doing on partial leave from work and doing as much physical therapy as I could afford to copays for, I was taking percocet for months and months because the pain wouldn’t go away. Something’s Wrong, I said. The Scans Look Normal, Try Taking Ibuprofen. I was home and hiding in bed more and more often. I extended my work leave and gave shifts away as much as I could. I went to therapy and a middle aged white woman with long beaded necklaces and a New Age Buddhism vibe in a shoebox office on the Upper East Side was getting tired of me and my lack of progress and consistent last minute cancellation of appointments. I went back to work and had panic attacks that kept me sobbing uncontrollably for over an hour, so many shifts spent partially alone sitting in a little room in the basement back of house, steam pumps taking up much of the space and nothing else there aside from a single office chair and a little grey table. I spent my entire hour lunch chain smoking on a stoop down the street. I smoked cigarette after cigarette, compulsively and even when I did NOT want any more. I talked more loudly and often about how bad things were, about my disorder and anxiety and depression and people liked me less and I was alone at work more. New people came on and old people left and new cliques formed and I had no friends. Work was torture and home was terrifying. I got through the summer by getting stoned on the roof so I wouldn’t have to be in the apartment in case he was home. But then one day my door knob broke and I was so terrified he would go into my room and take or break or mess with my things and the fear and panic were so real and so severe that I missed my best friend’s baby shower because I couldn’t find a locksmith on a Sunday and I couldn’t leave my room until I fixed my door knob. She was angry with me for a long time after that. We never saw each other before I moved back to Michigan. I don’t even know when we last saw each other anymore.

I could keep telling this story for hours, days. Tell every piece as I remember it straight on through 2014 and into 2015 and cancer and treatment and 2016 and George and more cancer and the worst possible conditions for a new relationship and relapse and the beginning of my current inability to function because everything was depression and exhaustion and loneliness. And on and on through five more moves and break up and emergency surgery and being thrown into the drivers seat and struggling with my mom’s health changes and selling my home and leaving everything I had for something new that was just more versions of bad. The scariest loneliest months of my life. And then the even scarier even lonelier ones after she died.

But just... just think of all that. And what if most of it had never happened?? If I’d gotten proper help a decade ago, who would I be now? Where?

Maybe I’d be there. With them.

Instead of here, alone, with nothing but memories of other times when I was also sad and life felt pointless.

I wonder what it would have been like to be there instead. I wish I knew.

[aftermathdb]

DEATH BATTLE Review: Wario vs. Dedede.

Two gluttons of greed battle it out in the ring! Time to see if Smash Tier Lists are lore consistent or not (They aren’t, if Kirby is at the bottom when he’s canonically the most powerful video game character).

Wario′s Preview.

We all know Mario. He’s a hero, a plumber, and many more things. He’s one of the seven star children of the Mushroom Kingdom. But one day, Mario returned home to find his castle under control of someone else. That person is Wario. WAH!

Wario is the opposite of Mario in pretty much every way. While Mario is kind and heroic, Wario is selfish and greedy. In fact, little Japanese lesson, Wario is derived from the Japanese word “Warui”, or “Bad.”

Subtlety is not Nintendo’s forte.

But, as it turns out, Wario wasn’t always bad. As young children, he and Mario played “Cops ‘n Robbers” 1256 times. And despite constantly asking otherwise, Wario only got to be the cop once.

… Y’know, between the “Mario is a war criminal” meme and this, the whole “Mario is a psycho” thing from GameTheory is starting to hold water, just not for the reasons that MatPat came up with. 

Anyways, in order to stack up to Mario, Wario needs to have plenty of abilities to counter with. He can even attack by farting. But it’s no ordinary fart, Wario uses The Waft. Which is basically the grossest thing that Nintendo has ever thought of.

But for a Flatulence Nuke, it’s not bad. At least in Smash, anyways. Otherwise, it’s just a stink nuke.

As it turns out, Boomstick has been working on a way to harness the power of farts in a device that he built in Wiz’s lab (Don’t ask how he got in, he’s not telling).

(Not pictured: The part where Wiz passes out because of the Wind Breaker).

Anyways, onto Wario’s arsenal.

Wario has plenty of things on him that can give him an edge up over his foes. Including bombs, transformative hats, and a slew of powers that he gets from his cartoon physics physique.

He can become bouncy by being squished, inflate himself to become big, use the Eagle Statue to achieve flight (Or he could just down some garlic to become Wario-Man, complete with pink tights and a cape), or even become metal. And remember that explosion Mario survived? Well, those bombs were Wario’s, and he was right in the middle of it. And if you recall, that blast came out to be about…

This isn’t even counting the time he defeated the Shake King, who exploded to blow up an island. Judging by the size of the Shake Dimension (By use of a map), and the size of the clouds that parted because of the explosion, the overall blast can come out to just short of 96 sextillion tons of TNT.

Despite his greed, disgusting body, and overall demeanor, Wario is a powerhouse. He’s defeated plenty of powerful foes and lived to tell the tale. Mario may beat him time and time again (primarily due to Wario’s intelligence (or lack thereof)), but that persistance is pretty admirable.

Dedede′s Preview.

The kingdom of Dreamland is filled with all sorts of creatures, big and small. Most of which are adorable as a baby seal.

But, this land is ruled by a self-appointed dictator named King Dedede. A tyrannical dictator who deliberately made a food shortage once.

However, Dedede would be stopped by a cute pink puffball of absolute destruction: Kirby. Everyone’s favorite lovable pink ball.

Although, the rivalry between Kirby and Dedede aren’t always with malicious intent.

The time Dedede stole the Star Rod, he was trying to stop the vile Nightmare from destroying everything.

Surprise plot twist: Dedede’s mean side comes from a jealousy of Kirby rather than any real evil place.

So, after seeing Kirby’s popularity surpass his own, Dedede made up his mind: He would surpass Kirby.

Dedede learned how to inhale objects and spit them out at incredible speeds. On top of his training to increase his speed, strength, and durability, Dedede learned how to fly.

By sucking a lot of air, Dedede can fly like Kirby. This is backed up by absolutely zero science and makes no logical sense. But who cares. Let’s let the penguin fly! They guy earned it through his intense training.

Dedede can even spit out air bullets that can destroy solid stone.

But even Dedede can’t get by just stolen techniques. Sure, the big guy has an army at his call, but he’s also got his signature hammer to take people down personally with.

This hammer can emit ice to ice up opponents, and even features a jet booster that is oh-so satisfying to land in Smash. Especially since it isn’t that good of a move.

But Dedede isn’t limited by just that single mallet. He’s got plenty on him that can give him extra abilities.

From the Star Hammer, to the Electric Hammer, the latter of which doubles as a multi-barrel rocket launcher, the King has it all. Screw Gun-Swords and Sniper-Scythes indeed. This is the weapon with firepower!

Dedede also has a lot of Gordos to command and throw at his foes. And when he wants to get rough (or rougher, in this case), Dedede busts out the aforementioned electric hammer and a mask to become… The Mysterious Masked Dedede!

The Penguin King has also spit Kirby to break Pop Star’s atmosphere. Which puts his spitting speed at over mach 30. Good thing that he’s become more of a good guy over the years, because it’s not healthy to be jealous of Kirby.

But since Dedede regularly goes up against and keeps up with Kirby, that means that his power has to rival the Pink Marshmallow. Kirby once broke the planet in a single chop. So, let’s get some calcs for that.

So, Dedede is definitely hitting above his pay grade. Even if Kirby isn���t hitting him with this amount of force with every punch, Dedede fights on equal footing with him. Meaning that it’s reasonable that he scales to the Pink Puffball in some way.

Also, Dedede has also gone toe-to-toe with the likes of Meta Knight.

For reference, Meta Knight once made a casual flight from one end of the galaxy to the other in seconds. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean that Dedede can do that, but between that and the time he dodged a meteor

(this one)

That was moving 160,000 mph proves that Dedede is a lot faster than you might think.

The guy also helped fight Magalor, who made a Black Hole in another dimension that Dedede survived. Which proves that he don’t need a monster to “Clobbah dat dere Kirby!”

While Dedede’s grudge is still held, he’s always come through for the Kingdom of Dreamland more times than he’s been against it. Proving that he just might have earned his title in some way.

Because there is only one bonafide ruler of that kingdom. King Dedede!

The Battle Itself.

Kiid Zack  are animating, Appetite For Greed by Brandon Yates, Jerky as the  sprite artist, and Chris Kokkinos lead on audio.

Okay, before we start, these guys need to stop giving us instances where the “FIGHT” clip would be appropriate. First the Widow-Widow bullet clash, now this. Regardless, the two are clashing in an arena.

(Look at Waddle Dee! He’s so adorable!)

The Mysterious Masked Dedede takes the first attack, after a quick scuffle, he launches his Magnhild-style weapon, but it looks like Wario-Man is too fast for them, so the fight gets Physical.

But The Mysterious Masked Dedede manages to get some distance so that he can fire some… fire…

So, after Wario-Man takes some damage, he also runs into The Mysterious Masked Dedede. So, Wario-Man’s outfit gets burned and The Mysterious Masked Dedede’s mask gets shattered. Revealing…

It was Wario and Dedede the whole time! That’s good. I was starting to think that these were the wrong combatants.

But it looks like Dedede kinda… Recognizes Wario.

As it turns out, this battle is a bit more personal.

See, Wario stole Dedede’s hot dog and then farted in his face. Which doesn’t sit well with the Triple D. But, as it turns out, Dedede isn’t so innocent either…

See, Dedede stole the front wheel of Wario’s bike to fit with one of his subjects. So needless to say, Wario is also pretty miffed.

But this shocking reveal has blown more than just many audience member’s minds. It has also blown the minds of Waddle Dee and a Goomba…

… Literally.

So the battle rages on. Leaving Dedede to use his multiplication powers to pin Wario down (After the big W used his dragon hat to use fire attacks) to pin him down and smash him over the head. This is after Wario ate Dedede’s electric hammer, by the way.

Which results in…

… This…

Wario pulls out some bombs, and launches them.

So what’s Dedede’s solution?- Inhale them of course.

Which also results in Wario being caught in the vacuum.

Y’know, I really don’t like how Nintendo made Wario’s defining character trait “Disgustingness.”

So, with the arena destroyed and the building they’re fighting in gone, the fight’s now in an open field.

So Dedede and Wario both use their respective abilities to enlarge themselves for a big fight.

Not necessarily a beam  struggle, but it’ll do.

But given who these two are, it’s inevitable that they’ll tire out.

So they make some distance. Where Wario prepares his atomic Waft to blow Dedede to oblivion.

But Dedede has a trick in his… Belt?- What even is that thing around his waist?

Y’know, Boomstick said that the Gordo was a “Pain in the ass” in Dedede’s rundown, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t what he meant.

So, uh…

Ackwaaaarrrrd.

Finishing blow in

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

SUCK IT, SMASH TIER LISTS!

Verdict + Explanation.

So, right off the bat, Wario had the edge in versatility and arsenal. Especially with his reactionary powers. But it’s not like Dedede was helpless in this regard. For example, his hammer’s ice properties could cancel out Wario’s fire.

And it’s not like Wario is at all predictable. Like, who brings flatulence to a fist fight? It’s like butt guns. Nobody expects it.

But Dedede doesn’t need power-ups to do the things Wario does. Like flight, for example.

But between Wario’s toon-physics body and Dedede’s… presence and prevalence in the Kirby series, the durability was up in the air. As was a lot of their best feats, since they could only reasonably be scaled. But it’s easy to make the reasonable assumption that Dedede takes speed due to scaling to Meta Knight, while Wario scales to Mario. But as for how fast he really is, it’s hard to say.

But speed wasn’t even that big of a factor. Especially since durability is really up in the air…

Almost.

See, while Wario surviving the Shake King’s explosion is impressive, Dedede has survived a black hole.

Comparing the size of the black hole to Kirby, there’s a general estimate that can be made about it’s stats.

With the stats of the black hole established, the overall force exerted by the singularity comes about to…

… That. Five times greater than Wario’s best durability feat. And keep in mind that this is comparing it to Kirby’s size. That’s right. This is a lowballed stat.

And yeah, sure. Wario’s survived a lot. But Dedede’s not only survived far greater attacks, but he’s also fought much stronger foes.

In the end, Wario was Dede Done. And the king took the Peng-Win.

Overall impression.

Not a fan of Wario, mostly because the guy is disgusting. But it’s an interesting battle to say the least, and the fight is really fun. Sure, it has it’s cheap moments of humor, what with fart jokes, but that primarily comes from Wario, not Dedede.

This battle also had really great and fitting music. Being a much less serious fight made it feel more cartoon-y than serious, and it’s a great return to form. It feels like an early season one battle with the intense research of the later seasons mixed in. It has fun, and it’s not afraid to have fun. It’s just a great fight.

7.1/10. I would rate it higher, but the fart jokes were really low-brow.

Next Time…

So, alien devices do what they do and attach themselves to humans that prove to be the universe’s savior?

Then let’s go green. In brightest day, in blackest night, it’s gonna be hero time!

Is there a fight that you want me to review? - Send an ask/request, and I’ll look into it!

Do you want to read my fanfic based around DEATH BATTLE itself? click here!

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time for…

Proof that Humans are special.

[it-is-ok-i-am-ok]

Wait, why are you getting kicked off social security and state aid? 💕💕

Sorry for the late reply. This story is wild from start to end so hang on for the ride

Long story short, the original problem was that SS has to start counting my boyfriend and I as married, which like….no. They said they have to for two reasons (mostly because of reason one), but I do understand don’t get me wrong.

1. We signed for a timeshare together. 

2. He put me as his beneficiary for his life insurance. 

Now, let me explain. 

I went into the timeshare thing (you know the usual like being shown this shit blah blah blah) being like nope we aint buying. (We had to go through it to get something we won or something which in the end was BS gift) We go into “Signing” room and I’m like nope, nada. But then everything just went…so wrong. Long story short, I’m obviously on disability for a reason ok. (I was granted both physical and mental but I won my case in five minutes because of my mental LOL). People who have mental illnesses, especially borderline personality disorder probably understand me on this one. Condo: I couldn’t get out, as hard as I tried. My boyfriend, he’s obviously my BOYFRIEND not my HUSBAND because he still don’t get it all (like my mum who is my representative in every aspect except the stupid payee which makes it “official”). So he like didn’t understand what he was doing was bad and my ques of like holy shit this needs to stop not like my momma. Finally I was like ok ok ok what the fuck ever but it’s your timeshare I want nothing of this, we break up its yours. Then they come back and say because of his credit he couldn’t. So then here we go I immediately feel guilt (without anyone having to say anything more) and my guilt problems cause me anxiety problems which causes me to do the stupidest shit on earth like my guilt problems are legit one of the beggist things i work on in therapy. So they assured me, If i put my name it’s like being a co-signer bleh bleh bleh. It’s in our contract that he pays. While signign they were even like you can read the contract later if you just wanna sign now. Like it was that fucked up.

The beneficiary whatever. Jonathan told me he had to put someone or that was his understanding and lemme telll you, im the only choice. I was assured it could be changed and this wasn’t permanent because I dont want that kinda commitment. I just idk I didn’t think anything of it and just thought i was helping someone because i have another problem with ovre-compassion as i call it lol.

So fast forward she tells me ight well we gotta count you as married. And I’m like WHAT NO I WILL LOSE EVERYTHING. and she omfg she’s like “well you don’t know that” and I’m like bitch…I know I’m right.

Well guess fucking what, yes I would lose everything. Even tho his money, his work, we aint sharing it it aint joint bank account wahbam, fuck me right.

Now, wouldn’t this be your first clue that you shouldn’t count as us married (one of first things I asked):

“Well, what if we break up!?” She then told me blah blah blah I have a year then i’m fucked. Then for like 1.5 hour we talked and at the end she got it, I was a blubbering mess. So she was like ok i aint promising anything because if someones doing this stuff, I put them as married end of story….but i’m gonna send you, your bf, and mom able to write statements blah blah. 

Then as the end it was very lightly mentioned “Oh wait..you might no matter what lose stuff because it’s a resource” but it was said like no real concern. I then realized later hell fucking yeah it’s a concern.

So my mum and I are talking and I’m like this is bananas, it aint like oh man i signed on the dotted line and i regret it…it’s like I have a mental illness that makes it so sometimes uhmmmm I may act rash, or be influenced etc DUH. And then BAM. It just hit me.

A WEEK PRIOR I HAD LITERALLY BEEN IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL. Not 2 weeks, not 1.5 week but a WEEK. I was in there because I was on a medication that was making me plan out my suicide….I was released because the agreed I was safe enough to at least not KILL myself. Not because I was 100% off the med or 100% ok in the membrane. And then i had this vague memory that I signed this shtit leaving the hospital about how I’m not mentally capable of making any life decisions or something. (Their way of saving my ass I guess). I get a call back on monday about that if I did.

So my mom talked to this bomb ass lawyer and long story short I’m 99.9999999% sure I’m gettingout of this contract. 

So ok that solves that problem. And considering again sign contract acting married wasn’t mentally 100% shouldn’t count for married either. And seeing how she was really believing me long story short….

No, I now don’t think I will lose everything. 

I want to set the record straight tho, I just days ago thought I was losing 

1. Social security income

2. Medicare

Then she said the state probably wouldn’t kick me off because they’re more leniant with “marriage” thing. But the resource thing oh man, then I would have also lost

1. I would have went from SS income to state income, but nope nevermind

2. medicaid gone. 

So I would be worth $0 a month, and I mean I would have my parents insurance but I can’t afford that deductable and copay shit, and also Im gonna be 26 eventually. So that means I would be reliable on my boyfriend 100% (which like uhh our relationship is so up and down like no thank you I wanna be able to move out if I want/have to). And his income barely covers one person let alone two. (We did the math if we lost everything and we’d be lucky if we had $50 for the week after paying everything and that’s if we baby how much we spend for gas, food etc). 

This would also mean I’d lose my medicaid appointment transportation which FYI my PT is an hour and 10 minutes away, but then again I couldn’t afford to go anyways to anything. As my convo with my driver went

“Damn, you wouldn’t even be able to work if they forced you….because of how many appointments you have.” 

-me “You know now…they’ll say ‘well cause ya lost everything… youll have plenty of time now LOL”

-her: “And then you woudn’t even be able to work with your “free time” because you need your appoointments to function!”

-me: “EXACTLY” 

So appointments, medications, treatments (Botox anymore? LOL RIGHT and I just got approved for Hetlioz look up that babies price MEGA LOL), affording my car/insurance, my apartment (can’t afford this place no more), internet (if I even could continue school), sadly my lovely rats, my income etc GOOOOONE.

So lets all pray to the gods of the disabled that my contract gets cancelled and I don’t lose everything and actually legit….die. LOL

I went from Wednesday facing the fact that I’m going to die, to friday holy shit I am saved god bless my borderline brain

So moral of the story is my mom is probably going to become my payee, and try to prevent me from getting emotionally influenced or emotionally rash into things, and now my boyfriend nows ques etc. He also obviously knows to NEVER do something like this again. I have also learned that I know I obviously have a brain that works differently and makes even the simpilest things hard, but I’m going to mention in therapy how I want to work on this and we can try to at least (if I can’t able to say no) make my ques known and obviously to jonathan. To talk more beforehand about things and plans, and also make trusted others know what I am ok with and am not. 

[jinjikook]

Room 316 (M)

word count: 5.1k

genre: smut + a little fluff; CEO!seungcheol

pairing: reader/seungcheol

summary: your boss, CEO choi seungcheol, has been injured in a car accident and you go to visit him; strictly out of worry as a friend and employee, definitely not because you harbor a sort-of crush on the man. but as the anesthetics leave seungcheol a little loose, he ends up saying more than you were meant to hear and it reveals a lot about what you mean to him.

masterlist

Your heels clicked against the tile, a rhythmic tap tap tap as you confidently strutted your way down to the hospital room that the kind secretary up front directed you towards.

Room 316

A deep sigh left your mouth and you took a brief moment to swipe your bangs out of your face and smooth down your ensemble, a black pencil skirt paired with a loose dotted blouse and tied together with matching pumps. Professional yet alluring, a style you wanted to convey since you were the head assistant for the Diamandis Corporation’s CEO; a business that focused solely on precious gems and jewels to be put inside expensive sets of jewelry.

Mr.Choi was a nice man, when he wanted to be. He was a CEO after all, so he had to have some backbone in him. But he was still a fair man, always letting his employees see their families often enough, knowing everyone’s names and their stories. It wasn’t unheard of for him to seen strolling floors of the building and casually striking up conversations, wondering how someone’s sick grandmother is and hoping she gets better soon, telling an employee happy birthday and even offering them the day off. He was better than most employers and even when he did get firm, it was all because of real business; nothing personal.

You took pride in being one of the closest in the company to him, aside from Jeonghan and Joshua who were all close friends and business partners. So when you had heard that Mr. Choi was involved in a car accident, you were undoubtedly devastated. And not in a “what’s gonna happen to my job?” sort of way, because you respected him enough to think of him as a friend, first and foremost.  

The first thing on your mind after you were told of the incident was if he was alright, if he’d survived. Once they explained that he received minor injuries (to them, a few broken bones were apparently minor but considering death was a possibility, you had to agree with them.) you were able to breathe a lot easier. Plans were made to visit him in the tending hospital as soon as possible, not to touch base on things of the company, not to ask if he’d wanted to cancel appointments and reschedule things; just to make sure he was alright and wish him to recover quickly.

Stepping inside, you were quickly greeting by a sweet nurse with a warm smile who was bringing in something for Mr. Choi to eat. The curtain by his bed was pulled up slightly, shielding you from his eyes as you entered. The nurse quietly puttered over to you, navigating around his bed.

She spoke in hushed tones, melodic and soft, “Hello, you must be Y/N? Mr. Choi has spoken very sweetly of you. He’s still under some pretty heavy medication and is currently trying to handle some more solid foods so I ask you to take it slow with him. He shouldn’t be in pain but he might be a little loopy, so don’t trust everything he says. He’s not exactly in a right mind at the moment, you see.” Her words rang borderline considerate to you and you nodded understandingly. You certainly didn’t want to aggravate his condition further nor did you want to press on any sensitive topics concerning how he had already talked about you so in your mind, you’d already figured you wouldn’t say much.

Before you managed to circle around the bed and appear on the other side of the curtain, you heard Mr. Choi’s soft timbre ring past the thin veil, beckoning for the nurse to return. She apologized for having to slip past you a second time and stepped over to where you assumed was his bedside.

“Ah Nurse Go, has Y/N arrived yet? I would’ve thought she would’ve shown her pretty face by now.” He began to speak, his words making your face flush in a way that made you reprimand yourself. Sure, Mr.Choi was sweet, handsome and hardworking. A man of honor and respect; but he was your boss nonetheless. You couldn’t intermingle with him in this manner, no matter what. Besides, you were sure the feeling was mutual since he hadn’t expressed any sort of attraction towards you, not even when you first started working for him and flirted openly before realizing the what a mistake it was. There was no doubt you had a crush on him then but he never acted on it, positively or negatively.

So you pushed your feelings aside, knowing that professionalism had to take priority in your career, especially if you wanted to make it far.

Little did you know, Mr. Choi had his own feelings for you that he kept repressed for similar reasons; but now his mind was running wild with thoughts of you and his mouth currently had no filter due to the medication he was under for the pain.

Before his nurse could even mention you were already here, Mr. Choi began to speak again, “You’d know her the minute she arrives, she’s as gorgeous as an angel,” Your face begins to feel hot and you wondered how long he thought of you this way, words so sickeningly sweet it made your tongue swell up. “And she has an ass that won’t quit.” He finishes with a flurry of giggles, no doubt at whatever surprised expression the nurse had on her face from his description of you. He seriously noticed your ass? And he found it attractive? You’re glad the curtain gave you some space between him and yourself because you really needed a moment to collect you thoughts and feelings.

“Nurse Go, please make sure to tell her where I am. I want to see her soon. At least, I hope she’ll come and visit me…” His voice bordered on sad, a tone of wistful wishing. Never in a million years did you think your boss would feel this way about you, wanting your mere presence to grace him whilst he laid in the hospital.

The nurse giggled softly, eyes meeting the curtain that she knew you were right behind of. “Of course she’ll visit Mr. Choi, after all you are quite a wonderful man. She’d have to be out of her right mind to not want to see you.” She cooed, the delighted giggles that followed told you Mr. Choi was pleased with her words.

He hummed dutifully as Nurse Go begins to step away to exit the room and he mumbled one last time for her attention before she left.

“It’s a little embarrassing, but…”

“Ah Mr. Choi, there’s nothing too embarrassing to tell me, I’m here to take care of you. We need to know everything to make sure you’re alright.” Her soothing voice made you feel calm, no doubt Mr. Choi felt the same way.

“Well you see, it’s… my body. I’ve just awoken so it’s fairly normal to be awake in that sense, if you understand? That and I was thinking about Y/N in her pretty skirts and semi see-through blouses that showcase her pretty curves and her soft skin that I’m sure feels so good to touch and her deep eyes that I want to look into while she goes down—“

“That’s quite enough Mr. Choi!” His nurse nervously chittered, not expecting such a detailed description. But she understood the problem at hand; unfortunately there was nothing that could really be done about it.

“You’ll just have to wait for that to go away sir, we can’t really do much.” He groaned at the answer, wanting sweet relief since now he had a mild undercurrent of pain from his injuries, a quickly fleeting high from the drugs and a straining erection under his hospital clothes that just made things so much worse. “Think happy thoughts Mr. Choi, it’ll go away soon.” She smiled and nodded at you as she stepped out, closing the door gently behind her. You steeled yourself for a moment and took a deep breath, now having to approach your crush/boss with a whole new mindset than before.

Before, you had pushed away your feelings for him. Before, you assumed he barely cared about you. Before, you didn’t know how heavily he lusted after you and how he was currently so engrossed with his thoughts that it affected him in ways you’re sure you won’t be able to un-see.

Gulping one last time, you stepped around the silky curtain you were hiding behind and met eyes with your superior, his oddly filled with a gleam that you wanted to pin on the drugs but you halfway hoped it was because of you. His smile was incomparable, brighter than the sun and wider than the planes of the Earth. It warmed your skin to the very base of nerves, every bone tingling with a new rush of familiar feelings. It was just like when you had first started to work for the man, virgin thoughts suddenly impure at the sight of him.

“Y/N! You made it, I’m so happy.” He drawled, obviously elated with your presence. You could only nod and smile, breath snatched by the demons that tugged the corners of his mouth so high just to taunt and tease you. You had completely forgotten about the previous situation he was in until he began to speak again, clearly forgetting his brain-to-mouth filter, “And you’re wearing such a gorgeous ensemble, of course, I wouldn’t expect any less of you. So pretty…” He trailed off, eyes glued to your frame and you looked down to inspect yourself, realizing you were wearing just the kind of outfit he’d been speaking about prior.

A black long pencil skirt that cut off just short of your knees, sleek and dark as it slimmed your frame but still accentuating your hips. Tucked in the skirt was a white patterned blouse, loose and flowy with sleeves long enough to constitute it as a dress shirt. It was slightly sheer so you wore a spaghetti strap tank top underneath, leaving you hugged tightly in it. Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you feel your face flush under his straining gaze. His stare felt burning as if you could literally feel exactly what he was looking at whenever they moved along your body.

Looking up, you’re met with Mr. Choi’s eyes, a shade darker than before with a more lustful glint than before. “Y/N, are you aware of what you do to me?” He dared to venture, mind fogged up solely on the sight of you. It was like his fantasies coming true whenever he laid eyes on you; this time being no different. You can only shake your head dumbly, despite having eavesdropped on the whole conversation of his infatuation with you just a few minutes ago. His hand slid down from his side, grazing along the surface of what you knew was a rock-solid body.

(You only knew this because of the few times he’d ask you to come to his gorgeous mansion, to help with something only to find him pulling himself out of the massive pool he has in the back, shirtless and glistening with droplets of water cascading off his body in heavy rivulets. He’d smile that gorgeously bright smile that made your insides melt and would walk up to you, not even considering how tantalizingly sweet his body looked as he stood in front of you. He’d speak casually—as if he wasn’t nearly bare-all naked right in front of his own assistant’s eyes—and would ask for a minimal task for you to do, something that you were sure didn’t require an entire drive down to his private home and certainly didn’t need for you to have to be faced with such sinfully tortuous sights that you’d imagine at a later time as you touched yourself and wished it was his lengthy digits that made you whine against your bedsheets.)

“Y/N? Dear? Are you alright?” Mr. Choi’s soothing voice rumbled you back to the planet, fantasy long gone as it seemed more and more like it’d become a reality. “Gorgeous, you left me hanging here. I was trying to tell you something, but is there something on your mind that’s more important? Because I don’t know if what I want to say can wait but if you’re preoccupied, I can understand.” Still cordial as always, he patted the spot of bed by his hips, gesturing for you to take a seat by him. It seemed like his medicinal high was wearing off, by how much more put together his sentences were.

You stepped lightly towards the bed, trying to not shift the mattress as your weight settled on the surface. You didn’t want to move his body too much, knowing he had a leg in a cast under the covers and most likely was littered with bruises elsewhere that made his body sore and sensitive all over.

He cleared his throat once before continuing, waiting for you to get comfortable beforehand, “Love, as you can tell, I may have some feelings for you. Some of which aren’t as appropriate as they should be considering our working relationship. But I must admit I’ve been selfish as of late, thinking only of myself as I tried to indulge in every little bit of you I could get, whilst you may have thought it was just innocent business matters. I should’ve thought about you and how this all made you feel and I’m sorry about that—“

“Mr. Choi, I—“

“Seungcheol.”

“Pardon?”

“Seungcheol, it’s my first name. You’ve always been so professional around me, never referring to me by anything other than sir or Mr. Choi. Really, it’s alright. Since this isn’t exactly a matter of business, it’s quite okay to speak to me as if we were friends, I hope that’s alright with you?”

You nodded, trying out his name off the tip of your tongue once or twice and doing what you hoped was your best to ignore the deepening gaze that lingered from your boss the more you said his name. He muttered something soft and low-toned, suspiciously like beautiful before his stare dropped down to your lips, looking perfectly poised and pouted under his stare. Stuttering at the revelation, you tore your eyes away and smoothed down the front of your skirt, a sort of nervous uptick you’ve taken up lately.

“Seungcheol,” You tested the waters with his name before continuing, “I never knew you had felt this way about me; I didn’t know you had any feelings for me aside from a business standpoint if I must be honest.” Seungcheol’s eyes glimmered at your confession, as if he couldn’t believe how wistful you sounded at the mere thought that he felt nothing more than what was on paper with you.

“Baby girl, you can’t be serious. All those times I’d call you to my home, did you really think they were just coincidences?” He chuckled low, as if the entire conversation was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. Hissing and wincing at the movement, he slowly pulled himself up to rest against the headboard of the bed, noticing how you flinched at his movement, thinking you had hurt him by leaning back too far or something. “You’re too cute. I have to admit though, I was cowardly to hide behind the false pretenses of work just to see your face on more than just busy weekdays and groggy mornings.”

This entire conversation had you floating, wondering if you were in a dream and if someone pinched you in that moment, would you disappear and awake in your own bed? It wouldn’t be the first time you’d dreamed of your boss in such a manner, some dreams bordering on much more explicit content than just this.

“I must ask: do you feel the same way? Because if not, I don’t want to force you into anything, you’re allowed to say no Y/N. This isn’t something that jeopardizing your career or anything of that sort, it is totally up to you. Just know that it’d make me very happy to see you in the mornings, not at the office or when your bring me coffee. I want to wake up next to you and have breakfast at home, maybe go for a morning swim together. Sans bathing suits, of course.” He smirked at the last hunk of his confession, wanting to be as direct with you as possible. He’d been beating around the bush long enough already and the accident from before made him realize how short life really is and how he needed to do this now or regret it for the rest of your life when you’d come in brandishing a ring on your left hand and making some other guy unbelievable lucky.

Choosing to ponder his words, you felt like actions were a lot more suitable than words in the moment. So you chose to indulge in the fantasies you’d created so elaborately in your mind, the intricacies of an intimate relationship with your boss finally revealing themselves as you leaned forward, catching his pretty lips in a soft kiss.

He let out a surprised noise, not expecting you to take initiative so quickly and certainly not so well. He raised his hand and rested his palm against your cheek as you leant more of your weight forward and place your own two hands on either side of his body. Lips shaking with anticipation, you pull away for just a brief moment, a breath’s length apart from Seungcheol’s own parted mouth and you smiled, dipping in once more to passionately press your lips together.

It turned feverish fast, repressed feelings finally coming to surface with every lingering touch. Seungcheol’s hands roamed along your sides, soothing the goosebumps he’d raise with every nip of your bottom lip. He snaked his tongue inside your mouth and soon you were swirling you own against his while he tugged at your hair, trying to bring you closer to him. He brought to his lap, forcing you to straddle him as his lips never left yours. Hissing when your body came into contact with his lower half, you instantly pulled away and jerked your body up, inspecting the damage you’d caused. You expected to come face to face with a pained expression on Seungcheol’s face but were instead met with pure arousal dripping from his eyes, mouth parted and panting while a pretty pink stained the surface, a mixture of blood rising to the surface and the subtle tint you had put on your own before coming here.

“Did I hurt you, are you okay?” You worriedly asked despite his facial expression, thinking you had put pressure on his injuries.

“I’m fine, I’d be a lot better if you sat back down princess.” He drawled, tongue heavy with shared saliva from the two of you. Your eyebrows flew into your hairline; once more you doubted the reality of situation before slowly bringing your hips back down and began to ground slowly into what you could easily figure was his relentless hard-on. He threw his head back and moaned at the delicious friction, finally relishing in some much needed contact. He’d been thinking about you for far too long; the entire situation was like a dream come true. Unsuspecting circumstances, yes, but still a dream come true nonetheless.

You went in for another round of heavy making out, his hands coming around to rest at your hips for a brief moment before slipping down and striking gold straight at your ass, gripping hard and forcing you to grind down as he pulled your forward. You whined into his mouth, lips hovering over one another’s as he chuckled into your mouth, the dark and low rumbling paired with the huffs of air against your lips gave you shivers.

“Gotta keep quiet, gorgeous. Unless you want someone to interrupt us?” You instantly shut your mouth and snuck your head in the space where his neck and shoulder met. Burying yourself against his delicious smelling skin, you tried to muffle the sounds coming from you against his neck. His harsh pants puffed against your hair as he tried to thrust up into you, a frustrated whine slipping out. You pull away and finally realize how much he’d been struggling, trying to get yourselves off but not having the strength in his leg due to his cast and injuries.

You really wanted to come, truly. But seeing Seungcheol like this made you pity him almost, not even really knowing how tough it must be to try and take care of himself while still refraining from hurting himself anymore. So you decided to take one for the team, hoping that it’d be alright with Seungcheol.

(Though you’re pretty sure no guy in their right mind would give up what you were about to do.)

You eased yourself off his lap to snake your way down in-between his legs, spreading his delicious thighs in the process. He looked at you in confusion, not knowing why you stopped when you were clearly enjoying yourself before. Pushing the rest of the bedsheets away from his lower body, you were met head on with a serious problem evident in Seungcheol’s hospital clothes, the dark gray scrub-like bottoms doing absolutely nothing to hide his arousal.

Looking up, you meet his eyes and giggle at his adorable expression. Here you were, mouth inches away from his hard dick and he was still unbelievably confused. You tittered at him, merely giving him a soft just be patient before you lowered yourself down and began to peck dryly along his length over his clothes. He let out a shuddering breath the minute your touch landed on him, hands impulsively tightening and tugging on the stark white bedsheets he laid on. Smirking at just how much power you had over him, you moved on to placing wetter, hotter open mouth kisses on him, focusing on where you knew the swollen head lay.

The material of his pants got soaked with your saliva, sticking obscenely against him and making his erection much more pronounced and shapely. You moved your eyes back up, finding Seungcheol with his head thrown back and knuckles white at the tight grip they had on the bed. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every deep gulp of breath he took, clearly trying to steel his nerves to last against your incessant teasing.

He’d had enough, poor thing was about to tear through his pants. So you indulged him, reaching for his waistband and silently asking him to help you pushing his hips off the bed. Once you were able to slide down his bottoms far enough, you reached for his length and tugged it out of his underwear, sparing no time and going straight in to lick feverishly at it. Hot, long strokes of your tongue ran along his cock, Seungcheol doing everything in his power to keep his release at bay.

You could tell he’d been holding back for a while, be it just today or around you in general. He deserved to finish after what you can only imagine was a frustrating year of you working alongside him. Especially if he really thought your outfits were as sultry as he made them out to be, since you literally wore them every day.

Lips wrapped around the head of his cock, you start to bob up and down, your tongue continuing to trace mindless patterns along the salty skin on the underside of his length. You stretch up your arms to wrap your gentle hands around his own, coaxing him to release his death grip on the bed only to guide them to your hair so he could do the same to you instead.

He caught on instantly, finally feeling like was allowed to let go. He began to thrust shallowly into your mouth, solid bucks into the heat you were giving him. You let your hands rest at his thighs, rubbing circles in the skin as you focused on your breathing as Seungcheol started to go deeper with his thrusts. His groans mingled with the sounds of your wet mouth coming into contact with his member, lewd and loud. There was no mistaking what you two were getting up to in this moment.

“Y-Y/N… baby I’m close,” he half-whimpered, his voice scratchy from how dry it was. All you gave him to confirm you’d heard was a hard suck, making Seungcheol nearly double over. His thrusts were getting sloppy again, a repeat of earlier when you were on his lap. He was trying to get some stability on his casted leg to buck up but couldn’t muster it. You pushed his hips down, gagging yourself on him instead to save him the trouble. After all, that is why you gave up riding him earlier.

His grip on your hair didn’t falter for a moment; if anything, it got a lot rougher. You could feel his release before he vocalized it, the hardness in your mouth twitching right before he shot his come into your mouth. You swore he had torn your hair right out of your scalp with how hard he had it in his grip as he released but the pain didn’t fully register due to the immense pleasure you felt at giving Seungcheol such a powerful and much awaited orgasm.

A few moments of hard panting later, he finally loosened his fingers in your locks and you slid your mouth off his now softening cock, taking in how trails of come and saliva followed your mouth off. Looking up, you made sure to meet his eyes before opening your mouth and showing your tongue off to him—covered in stringy pools of white—before making a show of swallowing every drop that was inside your mouth. His awestruck expression was worth the feeling of come slowly going down your throat, a not too entirely pleasant experience but fun nonetheless.

Once he figured out how to make his tongue work again, Seungcheol finally spoke up, “Damn baby, you’re as nasty as I figured.” He chuckled and let his body slump back; he still couldn’t believe this happened. In a hospital of all places. “C’mere. It’s your turn now sweetheart.” He beckoned you with the flick of a sinfully pretty finger and you had half a mind to take him up on his offer and ride his face into oblivion. But you knew better, it’d been too long since a nurse had come by and knowing how hospitals work, you knew his heart rate was no doubt higher than normal because of your helping mouth. It’d make nurses break into a frantic scramble to make sure you weren’t having an allergic reaction to medication or something.

So you got up from in-between his legs and stood on admittedly shaky legs, watching how once again, Seungcheol was beyond confused.

“Did you not want to come too?” His voice was laced with something that resembled disappointment, hurt almost. It wasn’t like you didn’t want it—it was all you thought about even before this entire encounter—you just didn’t want some nurses barging in while he was tongue deep inside of you. Face flushing as you tried to figure out how to explain it in the least filthy way possible, you two heard a timid knock rap on the door. Heads flying in the direction of the sound, Seungcheol scrambled to pull his pants up while you reached to cover him with the sheets otherwise the wet spots you put on his pants would be clearly visible and you’d be exposed in an instant.

Once everything seemed normal, you gave a cheerful come in! and fidgeted slightly at the growing uncomfortable sensation of your wet underwear growing cold as time went on. Nurse Go entered, almost cautiously. She flickered her eyes between the two of you and you caught a glimpse of what looked like 2 or 3 other nurses huddled behind the door, peeking through the crack of the now open door.

“Is everything okay in here?” She asked, mimicking interest in the machines and I.V that surrounded Seungcheol’s bed. You nodded, appearing absolutely casual until your eyes bulged out of your head once you met the sight that made Nurse go freeze stiffly in place. Seungcheol’s neck was splotchy and red, where you knew you were huddled up against when he was initially dry-humping you. Embarrassment flooded your features and you half hoped she was a pure-minded woman who had no idea what a mark from sex looked like.

But her face told you otherwise, stamping down all your hopes and prayers in a moment. Before you could even try to come up with a half-assed excuse, she spoke up.

“I’m all for trying new things, especially in newer types of relationships…” She gestured between the two of you before continuing, “But we ask for you to not do these things while he’s strapped up to a heart monitor. Lucky was how loud you two were being and how I was the first to arrive and spared you the embarrassment of having half of us busting through that door.” Pointing at the door, you close your eyes in a half sense of relief because you were able to control yourself well enough to prevent the worst from happening, even if Nurse Go had stopped herself before and probably waited for an all clear.

“I hope you didn’t injure yourself any further, Mr. Choi?” She addressed Seungcheol, sternness in her voice akin to something a mother would sound like scolding her child. He meekly shook his head no, head coming down in shame and embarrassment of his exposure. For a confident man, he didn’t seem to take to publicity well.

Nurse Go left promptly after that, explaining how Seungcheol would be discharged later that day to return to his home to continue the healing process. You smiled gratefully at her before she left, her sneaky hand coming up to give you a hidden away thumbs up. Whether it was because she was happy you two actually got together or because you scored such a catch, you had no idea.

“So,” Seungcheol’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “Would you mind doing me the honors of taking me home? I can’t exactly drive in this condition.” He chuckled and gestured to his broken leg. You smiled and nodded.

“As long as I can pick the radio station.” He laughed at that, warm and bright and you joined him. He agreed with those conditions and added one more of his own:

“Fine, as long as you stay for dinner.”

You smiled and nodded.

You could definitely agree to those terms. Most definitely.

[major-artery]

Today is Rheumatoid Disease / Rheumatoid Arthritis Awareness Day. You are in for a long read; feel free to skim through, read the entire thing, or skip it entirely. There are times it may be “TMI”, but I feel it’s all a necessary part of my journey. <3 

I’m sure everyone knows at this point, but I have this “invisible” disease. I have been officially diagnosed for a few years at this point, but tested borderline for JRA when I was young – I believe I’ve been suffering with it silently for most of my teenage and adult life.

When you get sick, you go to the doctor; you’ll get some antibiotics, maybe a cough syrup. They’ll tell you take it easy, and in a few days you’ll be better. You will never hear those words as someone with RD/RA – or most invisible illnesses, for that matter.

At my first Rheumatologist appointment, I didn’t know this. I had come to see the Rheumatologist after a hospital visit; I’d had debilitating pain in my knees and ankles – they were so swollen I couldn’t move and the throbbing was agonizing. As I sat in the office, my doctor assessed me the best she could – asked me all the personal questions, gave me a physical, squeezed my joints, and checked my blood.

There was no immediate diagnosis. She didn’t want to assume the worst until there was nothing left. I was sent for more blood work, x-rays, and thrown on prednisone. We discussed the possibility of other medications that may be needed down the line – their positives and their negatives. It mostly went in one ear and out the other side. All I kept thinking was that it would be over soon.

While I was on the prednisone I felt like I could bench a tank, but it also made my sick to my stomach. My next visit to my doctor did not go as I planned. Far from it, actually… I felt I had made progress, but my blood work showed degradation. There was more inflammation in my blood than before – even though the prednisone felt like it was helping, I was getting worse. By this point I had been tested for many different things, all coming back negative.

The official diagnosis came – I had Rheumatoid Disease. I had done some research on it, and through work I had learned a lot about it and the different types of drugs that are on the market. Everything I had ever heard didn’t matter though because now I was the one wearing those shoes.

My Rheumatologist asked me if my husband and I were planning to have kids. “One day, I’d like to, sure.” The whole reason why she was asking was because she was going to put me on Methotrexate (MTX.) It’s a drug that is used in the treatment of patients going through chemotherapy – it takes your immune system from “hero to zero.” What I learned was the real truth about RD/RA – that your immune system has gone “haywire” and it views your joints (and at times other parts of your body as well) as an infection, something that needed to be illuminated. This is what causes the swelling and painful joints.

All of a sudden, in the span of ten minutes, I could no longer have children (unless I came off my medications for at least six months, would mean I would be in pain,) I could no longer go to hospitals to visit sick friends and family without it being a detriment to my health (or be around anyone sick for that matter), that a common cold could actually land me in the hospital. Hand sanitizer, religious hand washing, and birth control were absolute musts.

--Medication Rant Here--

Bi-weekly visits to the Rheum began with repeated blood-checking. The small dose of MTX was not working efficiently. I was bump from 4 pills a week to 6, then from 6 to 8 (a “maximum” dosage.) More visits, more unfortunate news. My doctor started me on a combination therapy of MTX and an injectable medication – Humira.

A few months passed, things seemed to be working well with Humira. My poor husband – as much as I was suffering, I put the pressure on him. I found that when it came time to give myself the injections I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to press the plunger on the auto-injector. (As an aside –the auto-injectors look like really thick pens. You push the trigger button on top, and it plunges the needle into your skin and automatically administers the entire dosage.) The loud click scared me, and the pain of the medication being administered so quickly by the syringe scared me even more. Like clockwork when it came time for the next dose, I’d go into a full meltdown and anxiety attack. I found myself literally biting onto pillows, crying my eyes out, and begging him to not do it. It sometimes took hours for him to talk me down.

Through the months, almost a year, I was taken off of MTX and left on Humira. Blood work throughout these passing months showed there was no real improvement. My prescription ran out for it and my Rheum wanted to move me onto a different biologic / DMARD (disease-modifying anti-rheumatic drug). She wanted to move me onto Enbrel. I had heard nothing but positive things about Enbrel, and was excited to begin the treatment.

My doctor’s office called me while I was at work – my insurance would not cover the Enbrel, and I had to come in to discuss other treatment options. I was heartbroken; the idea of being on another auto-injected medication scared me, but the idea of finally having peace overtook it.

The next time I saw my rheumatologist, we discussed something a new drug I hadn’t heard of but had been on the market for a long time. I was beginning to feel like a lab rat. I started Cimzia soon after – which was different than the auto-injectors I had been used. This was a manual plunge-syringe.

I actually took a liking to the Cimzia. I gained a lot of confidence in giving myself the two doses – because I could control how I “stabbed” myself with the needle, I could control how fast I pushed the plunger down.

But like the Humira, the Cimzia worked for a short amount of time then became ineffective. I was switched to Xeljanz – a twice a day pill instead of a bi-weekly injection. I’ve found that I’ve become more “tired”, lethargic even on this medication. It helps keep the swelling and the pain away for the most part. We’ll see where it goes in the next few months.

--End Medication Rant--

I was so angry with the world when I got my diagnosis. I was angry that some people didn’t seem to understand what I was going through was serious. “Oh, at least it’s only Rheumatoid Arthritis.” “You can’t have that – you’re not old…” I exhausted so much time and my precious energy being upset at things that were out of my control. Suddenly everyone was an expert in my illness, everyone know what could “cure” me – miracles.

When someone asks me how I’m feeling, I have to go through an internal monologue of “Do you actually want to know how I’m feeling? Do you want me to put that burden on you?”

I go through periods of guilt when I feel helpless; it makes me upset and makes me feel lazy when I ask my husband to grab me something from the fridge, to cook and clean up afterward, or sometimes (which hasn’t happened in a long time) to cut up my food for me. There are times where just putting on pants is a challenge and I have to ask someone to do the button for me. It’s embarrassing, and it’s heartbreaking.

I recently wrote a letter to myself – and I think a lot of people with invisible illnesses can relate.

“Dear Jessi,

It’s not the end of the world, I promise. I need you to take a deep breath, and really read what I’m about to write to you. Wipe your tears – wipe them off on your sleeves if you can’t reach the tissues, maybe even a pillow. Get comfy, because shit is about to get real.

This isn’t your fault. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this; your body was basically on a self-destruct timer with no wires to cut to stop it. You did not do anything to deserve this. People have crosses to bear – this is yours.

There will be people in your life who won’t understand what you’re going through. You can try to educate them, but sometimes you have to just turn the other cheek. You will make plans, and just as quickly you will cancel them. It is out of your control. Stop being embarrassed. Ask for help. Let people think whatever they want to think, and fuck’em if they don’t want to be compassionate.

They’ll still see you as the loveable weirdo, a little ditzy at times, maybe a klutz who obsesses way too much about RPGs. None of that changes because of your RA.

I mean what I’m about to say in the most positive way possible: you will -never- be cured. I’m going to be blunt about it because no one else will be. But you’ll persevere – you’re a boss-ass bitch. Your pain will be managed for most of the time. I’m not saying it won’t get bad, because it will. And you’re allowed to cry.

You are not the person you were a few years ago. You have all these rules to live by, and you’ll be worried that you won’t be able to go through with plans. There will be tools to help you, even if it’s a wheelchair.

IT IS OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY. Do NOT let anyone tell you otherwise. There will be days where you will roll over to turn off your alarm and you can’t. Don’t panic – take the time you need to get mobility back in your joints. When you’re out, use your handicap placard. You’re suffering. Do not let the dirty looks or comments sway you.

Appreciate your husband a little more every single day. He’s there for you – even if he’s pestering you about your medication, when your next doctor appointment is, or where that bruise came from (followed shortly by poking it.) You may not be able to keep up at times, and he will always change his pace for you.

Have you used all of your spoons today? I think you did; you probably over-extended yourself, and you’ll regret it tomorrow. But are you happy now? Then it was worth it.

Most importantly – at heart, you’re still you, even if your body is weird as fuck. You are not your illness. You are not any less of a person.

I love you. You should love you, too.”

So, this is me. Today I do my best to educate people on what I live with. Welcome to my world. Please, ask me questions, I may not have an answer, but I may have an experience. I’m a member of the #cureArthritis squad – and my goal is to spread information about my disease.

Thank you for taking the time to read; please consider making a donation toward RD/RA Research. It is one of the least funded research topics in the United States.

https://www.curearthritis.org/sponsor-specific-research/

[a-schuyler]

long post because i just need to unwind a little bit from these last couple weeks and am having a lot of trouble talking to people in my personal life so i guess the internet needs to hear it because that makes sense

This probably won’t be very coherent?

Anyway you might remember earlier this month my dad, who was deported when I was an infant, invited me to come see him and my sister in Cape Town. He’s invited me numerous times, but I decided this was the year to do it. I got excited, I posted quite a bit about it on here, and someone sent me a nasty comment about “bragging” - as if going to meet my father for the first time was something to brag about. Granted, I’d been posting a lot about the safaris, whale watching, hiking and other activities we’ve been planning but I’d say there’s a pretty considerable difference between a visit with my estranged dad and a vacation. Nevertheless, that hit me in a very sensitive spot and I’ve held onto that for whatever reason. 

Around this time I also found out that, after he was deported, it was my mom who asked him to stay out of our lives. It wasn’t necessarily his decision. I haven’t really told anyone this until now, but I can’t blame my mom for any of it? It made me feel worse and better all at once. I can’t really explain it. 

And there’s the anxiety that comes with meeting him face to face that has left me trying to sustain myself on, like, 800-1000 calories a day because I don’t want my dad’s/sister’s/step-mom’s first impression of me to be, “oh, she could stand to lose 20 pounds.” 

Layered on top of all that is this......incredible anxiety I feel at work. It goes back to October, I think, when I went in for a job interview and just found myself paralyzed with fear. I made it through it OK but the women interviewing me could tell I was a mess. Basically, in two years I’ve gone from a confident career~ girl to a fucking basketcase. Talking myself up in interviews feels like a joke at this point because my job is so fucking demoralizing. And it’s not like I’m getting beaten up on day after day? But I’ve tried to tell my boss over and over again (my entire department has) that we’re overworked. She doesn’t listen. It’s just a hellhole and I’m spread so thin and doing everything so half-assed that it just makes me feel like I’ll never be good at what I do again. 

AND THEN there’s everything with the election. I don’t think I even need to explain it. I’ve had to blacklist “nazis,” “holocaust,” etc., etc. because I just can’t do it. I know there are good posts out there. But my mom’s mezuzah was ripped off her door frame a few years ago and her car was vandalized. I can’t even begin to explain how fucking terrifying this is. Jews have never been safe. I just can’t believe in the year fucking 2017 we have a president who won’t even acknowledge them in his Holocaust Remembrance Day statement. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I grew up surrounded by survivors and they were some of the most beautiful, gracious people I have ever met and they deserve to be recognized. I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe I have a president who makes disgusting, abusive men feel safe and I can’t believe I had to deal with someone like that this week. 

And then, just on a more superficial/personal level, I canceled plans a couple weekends ago on a friend from college who just recently moved here and she (jokingly) told me, “you’re always staying home, you’re not fun anymore!” Which is true. I’ve more or less accepted that very few people want me around these days because I’m either A) a flake, B) very obviously forcing myself to not be miserable when I’m out with friends or C) just a real big downer. I had three NYE invitations and I turned them all down to be “sick,” and one of my sorority sisters has just stopped trying, and I can’t really blame her.

Annnnd then there’s my ex. Who has been keeping me relatively sane but talking with him has honestly just polluted my mind with thoughts of “Well maybe we could...” and I know that’s not where my brain needs to go right now. Besides, all of my friends hated him for their own reasons (from “he didn’t have a ‘real’ black experience growing up” - his parents were immigrants, both extremely wealthy doctors to “he’s an annoying drunk don’t you remember that Halloween party when he came in the cow costume and talked about how many people had sucked the udders”). I haven’t told any of them I’m staying with him one of the nights I’m in Chicago next month because I know at least one of them would probably either murder me or refuse to speak to me for a few days.

But, one good thing - I’m finally setting up my daybed tonight and saying goodbye to, like, three years of not really having a normal sized piece of living room furniture. 

So that’s kind of what’s been going on, all in one post. I wanted to make myself type this out somewhere so I could digest it and reread it and tell myself that it’s OK to feel the way I do right now. In fact, it probably wouldn’t be normal if I was taking this all in stride. I just hope that, between making my first doctor’s appointment in literal years and meeting my family, this year is a step in the right direction because at the moment I’m just tired of bringing a raincloud everywhere I go. 

[invisiblenotbroken]

EDS,MCA, POTS, Collect Them All: German Socialized Medicine, Medical Marijuana, UBER WE HAVE AN IDEA FOR YOU: Chronic Illness Serial Podcast

"I had always defined myself by my achievements "  -- Karina

I have made choice of not doing just one or even two posts of a diagnosis (you might remember my interview). The reason is that each of us have a different experiance with our disorders and I want to show how wildly different stories can be even when they live under the same diagnosis. OK, off my soap box I have you really enjoy hear from Karina and hearing about her journey. You will learn so much from pain medication guilt, medical, marijuana, the niaviete before chronic illness, and I learned so much about socialized medicine in Germany and the differences with the ACA.

What is your disorder? *

Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and comorbid conditions (spinal instabilities, mast cell activation, small fiber neuropathy, dysautonomia and others) - 15 diagnoses by now.

At what age did your disorder become a daily issue? *

24

Who were you before your illness became debilitating? *

I would say that I was really naive. I thought nothing could ever hurt me. In 2009, I just started my career as a lab technician, moved into my first apartment, and everything was just fine. I was self-confident and a perfectionist. Moreover, I had a 5-year-plan that included marrying, building a house, working for doctors without borders, adopting a child, and many more. Playing volleyball and other sports were my life - I was super competitive and ambitious, which I still am, but in a different way, and other areas.

What would you do if you were not dealing with your invisible illness? *

There is a lot I would do if I were not sick! For example, traveling around the world (parts of the world are just not accessible for me anymore), dancing, bungee jumping, weird sports I cannot do anymore, building up a lab in Africa, learning how to sail, hiking the pacific crest trail. Anyway, I would want to have the knowledge that I gained due to my illness with, because only now can I really appreciate all those things I had when I was healthy.

What would you like people to know about your daily life? *

…that I try very hard to be the best friend I can be. …that I feel horrible every time I have to say the words," I am sorry, I have to cancel." …that there is no such thing as a good day. There are better or worse days, but no more good ones. …that every day brings new challenges. …that even the smallest thing, such as taking a shower, can cause major symptoms. …that even though I might not be working a full-time job, I still am not sitting on my couch and stare holes into the wall. And if I do, it is not my choice, and absolutely not because I am lazy, but because it is the only way to get through the day. …that having a doctors appointment is pretty dramatic for me sometimes, because I made so many bad experiences, but still need my doctors. …that work that is not paid is still valuable and important. …that I do my best to achieve my goals, but the goals are sometimes maybe as simple as getting out of bed in the morning. …that I do not need any special treatment. I do not expect anything, and I do not set rules how I want to be treated. I do not feel offended by things like "I pray for you" or "Get better soon“. While I am not very religious, and most likely will not get better, I appreciate any good wish and thought.

What would make living and moving in the world easier for you? *

People that are more tolerant. Let me tell you a story. A couple of weeks ago, I went grocery shopping with my husband on a Sunday, like we always do. I cannot go by myself, because we do not own a car, so someone has to carry 30 pounds of groceries home. Going shopping is kind of a huge activity for me. By the time we finished, we had to take the metro home. It is only two stops, so I managed to stand during the whole time. I was wearing my neck brace, and that was the only obvious sign of my disability. A man standing next to me looked confused to me a couple of times until he said, "Hey, that must hurt, do you want me to ask someone here to get up?"  He was pointing at the disability seats that were already taken. I was super surprised because nobody ever asked me anything like this in San Francisco. Usually, if I sit on those seats reserved for people with disabilities, people tend to give me bad looks when I do not get up for an old lady. But this time someone else asked me if I needed to sit down. If all people were like this guy, my life would be a lot easier. I was moved to tears by his gesture.

Do you have any life hacks? *

What I love most is my Aspen neck brace and my memory foam seat cushion. I am not going anywhere without those two. The latter one literally saves my ass. Other than that, I am sleeping with a u-shaped pregnancy pillow that supports all my joints. I like shoes that go over my ankles, to give me additional support when walking. Pants that sit tight help with proprioception, and compression stockings work well for dysautonomia and stability too. I use other braces for almost all of my joints; and a backpack with support around my hips, so not all the weight is on my back.

What kind of support do you get from family or friends? *

Luckily, I only lost a couple of important people. The majority is still with me. Some friends could not really deal with the "new“ me, and one relationship did not survive my changes. Becoming a butterfly that grows out of a rope is a huge transition, and some loved ones could take it better than others. To be fair, I was not easy to handle - especially in the beginning (2010). I had no idea who I was anymore, so how could other people know? My family and friends support me physically, for example drive me to appointments since I cannot drive by myself; they pick me up if we want to have a coffee together; and they also support me mentally if I had a bad appointment or just a very shitty day.

Would you care to relate the details of what happened when someone didn't believe you were disabled?

That is pretty typical. People tend to judge quickly based on appearance. Not sure why, because every one of us knows how to smile even if we do not feel like smiling. It is not so hard to see below this surface of "I am ok," and to recognize how the person really feels. But that would take some effort, and many people just do not want to get to know the real "me". It affected me in a very negative way. Sometimes I would not go outside even though I had a better day, because I worried that I would meet people that could assume that I am healthy. I felt like I was proving them right if I left my house and enjoyed the day. At some point I understood that this was just stupid. People assume whatever they want, and they will judge you anyway. It is a waste of your good moments if you do not go out and live your life when you can.

How has your invisible illness affected your relationships? *

I do not think that the invisibility of my condition in particular affected my relationship. My husband is very supportive and my ex broke up with me because we both could not handle my disease during that time. I do not think that anyone close to me has a problem with the invisibility of my illnesses. They know exactly how I feel as soon as they look into my eyes. It is mainly people I do not know that act weird around me. But of course being chronically ill affects any relationship. There are always things to consider, even for the smallest activity, and there is always a problem.

Is there anything you are afraid to tell even the people closest to you? *

I am somehow afraid to tell them that I feel very alone sometimes. They would feel as if I just told them they did not try hard enough to be there for me, but that is not it. The problem is more that, even though everyone is there for me, some days just suck so much that I just feel completely alone on this planet. Also, I am scared like hell to be all alone at some point of my illness, because I really do not know how to survive without the physical support of my family and friends. Another thing I should not even think, and of course not say, is that I am jealous of some of their perfect lives. Of course, they deserve to be happy, and I hate myself for feeling this way occasionally. But sometimes it just hurts to see how my friends can have families and normal lives.

What is your best coping mechanism? *

Writing! Whether I only write for myself, for example in a diary, or in public, I write every minute I feel ok. It became my passion and my sense in life.

What are you the most fearful of and hopeful for in the future? *

Fearful: I fear the moment when my disease will get to a point where I am unable to advocate for myself. Because without this ability, rare disease patients are completely lost. Hopeful: I think the EDS community is doing a great job in raising awareness, and this will hopefully lead to a broader understanding of our condition, more diagnosed patients and then more doctors to treat us.

What is your favorite swear word?

Oh gosh, many. :) I love to swear. Not so much in English, since it is not my first language. My favorite English words: Holy Shit, Fuck it, Holy Fuck. German: Verfickte Scheiße. I am a horrible person.

Learn More About Karina

You could add links to my websites, but I actually do not like to talk too much about my "achievements".

German/English Website and Facebook: Website: www.instabile-halswirbelsaeule.de Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/instabilehalswirbelsaeule German Blog http://www.holy-shit-i-am-sick.de Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/1000GeschichtenchronischkrankerMenschen

My personal story in two books

(German): My way to diagnosis:

My life with EDS: