#med refills sounds small but going 3 weeks on 2 weeks off your meds every time kind of kills you

[thedyke]

i feel like i’ve grown so much recently. like i’m on a year and a half of fully supporting myself and not living with family, i’m finally trying to make decisions that help me in the future, i’m staying on top of my med refills… 24 will be a good year!!!

[creativityflowfics]

Told You So

I promised this six months ago, why am I like This

Read on Ao3

1.

Peter admits, he hasn't always been there for his team. Especially in the beginning, when he was new and selfish, and still struggling to fit in with the team's dynamic.

But he's learned a lot since then. He's thrown himself into the role of team leader and made it his personal mission to always be there for his friends, no matter what. And he pays attention. He depends on his spidey sense to watch out for him, while Peter himself focuses solely on his teammates.

Like Sam. Sam, who has stupidly stolen a brownie from MJ, who's too busy having a debate over some history question with Ava to notice.

Normally, Peter would let it go. He's just as guilty from taking food when MJ or Harry isn't watching, so, really, he wouldn't have said anything other than a raised eyebrow in Sam's direction.

But he knows that MJ's grandma uses her "secret ingredient" in all of her baking, and everyone knows her secret is several extra scoops of peanuts.

Peter doesn't realize what he's doing until he's already out of his seat and tackling Sam over the lunch table. The brownie goes flying one way as Peter and Sam fall to the floor, and the whole lunch table falls silent as the boy’s stumble over each other, trying to untangle themselves.

"Parker, what the hell?" Sam asks, finally getting fed up and pushing the taller boy off of him.

Peter's face goes red. "You... the brownie... Dude, you have a peanut allergy," he finally stutters out.

A look of realization dawns across Sam's face. "How did you-?"

"Are you two dorks going to get off the floor?" Ava asks, raising her eyebrow.

Peter's face darkens even more, and MJ openly laughs at them. As Sam sits back down, she leans over with a smirk. "Serves you right. Don't steal my brownies next time."

"Don't put peanuts in them next time," he counters. "Anyway, how did you know about my allergy, Parker?"

"Uh, you told me about it?" Peter reminds him. "Like, it was one of the first things you told me when we first met."

Sam looks at him skeptically, but ultimately decides to let it go. Lunch carries on like normal, except MJ slides her brownies to her other side, away from Sam.

2.

"What time are the boys coming over?" Aunt May asks as she pulls on oven mitts. "I want Sam to try out this new recipe I found."

Peter checks his phone, but there are no new messages from Sam, Luke, or Danny, so he shrugs. "Danny said they'd be over around six. But Sam likes to take his time, so I'm guessing around six thirty."

His aunt gives a playful shake of her head as she pulls a batch of cookies out of the oven. "That boy. You told them I was ordering pizza for you guys, right?"

"Yes, Aunt May," Peter sighs as he sneaks a cookie. It's still warm from the oven, the chocolate chips are melting on his tongue, and the peanut butter sticks to the roof of his mouth. It's heaven.

His aunt whacks him with a wooden spoon, and huffs. "Peter, at least pretend like you're trying to restrain yourself from eating all the food."

"It's one cookie," he defends. His phone dings in his hand, and he unlocks it to see a message from Sam, saying they've left the tricarrier.

Peter blinks. Sam. The cookies. Crap.

"Aunt May, you can't let Sam have these cookies."

"And why can't I?" she asks, propping a hand on her hip and looking at Peter expectantly.

"He's allergic," he says, "to peanuts. Wait, didn't he tell you?"

"He never said anything to me, even when he was living here. I guess that explains why he always offered to do the grocery shopping." May looks at the batch of cookies sadly before turning to get the flour, eggs, sugar, and chocolate chips. "Come on, Peter. I want this new batch in the oven before the boys get here."

Peter knows they don't have that much time, and that Luke, Danny, and Sam will be knocking on their door any minute, but he grabs a measuring cup and sets to work anyway.

3.

The team tries their best to have at least one study session a week. Usually, they hang out at Peter's house, lounging around on the sofa and spreading their books across the coffee table, but occasionally, on especially really tough weeks, they go out. They prefer the pizza parlor, but the group is also known to push tables together at the closest Starbucks and get hyped up on caffeine while trying to memorize every detail of whatever they learned in chemistry.

While Ava glares over the top of her science book, Sam and Peter take turns throwing wadded up napkins at each other.

"Shouldn't you be studying?" she asks.

"Uh, I don't know if you know this, Ava, but this is science." Peter makes a show of slamming his textbook closed. "I'm kind of a genius when it comes to this stuff."

"I just don't care," Sam shrugs. “Chemistry is boring.” Peter gasps, over dramatic, and he flips him off, before standing from his seat and grabbing his empty cup. “I’m going for refills. Anyone else want anything?”

Ava perks up and raises her hand. “I could go for a refill,” she says, and shakes her cup so the group can hear the tiniest bit of coffee sloshing around.

“What did you get?” Sam asks, swiping the cup from her hands. “My seasonal favorite is leaving soon, so I need to find a new drink.”

She looks annoyed at having her drink stolen but doesn’t move to take it back. “It’s hazelnut.”

Sam nods and lifts to cup to his lips, and Peter chokes on air for a second before ripping to cup away.

“Are you nuts?” he asks. (He absolutely does not laugh to himself for the unintended pun. He doesn’t.) “You have a peanut allergy, Sam.”

Sam only blinks at him. “Uh, yeah, Web Head, peanuts. Hazelnuts are fine,” he explains. “So are almonds and stuff.”

Ava and Luke smirk at him and Danny gives a soft laugh. “It is very kind of you to have your friend’s wellbeing in mind.”

“Yeah, Webs, it’s awful sweet of you,” Sam smirks.

Peter rolls his eyes and gives the cup back. “Yeah, yeah. It’s the last time, though.”

4.

“Have you noticed that Sam forgets he has a peanut allergy, like, all the time?” Peter asks Director Fury one day after training.

“Nova tends to forget a lot of things when it comes to his wellbeing,” he agrees. “The only reason SHIELD knows about his allergy is because we have access to his medical files.”

“He didn’t even tell SHIELD?” Peter gapes.

“He forgot.” The way he says it sounds like Fury is repeating something he doesn’t believe. “But we’ve made sure to take the proper precautions. He has an EpiPen on him at all times, and we have everything we need here in the med bay.”

Peter nodded in relief. “How serious is it?” he asks. “Every time I ask, he brushes it aside.”

“Not as serious as you’re imagining,” Fury assures him. “But serious enough that we should still be prepared.”

Awesome, Peter thinks, and glances over at the teammate in question. “Is Sam trying to steal Luke’s Snickers bar?”

Beside him, the director of SHIELD gives a long, tired sigh.

5.

Like the time with the brownies, Peter doesn’t think before he acts. At least this time, he doesn’t have to tackle Sam over the table.

A grateful shopkeeper keeps insisting that she has to repay them somehow, and despite Spider-Man insisting that no, she doesn’t, she slips a bag of candy into everyone's hands, and shoos them out the door before they can say a “thank you.”

“It’s nice to not get yelled at for destroying a place for a change,” Sam jokes, swinging his bag of candy as he floats up to the nearest rooftop.

Peter has to agree as he follows him. Of course, they don’t expect or even want the New York citizens to start going crazy over them, but the occasional thank you was always nice. Peter pops one of the candies into his mouth, and bites down on a chocolate covered peanut.

He doesn’t think. Sam hasn’t eaten the candy yet, but he’s reaching into the bag, so Peter quickly smacks it out of his hand.

“Hey!” Sam protests, glaring at the fallen bag, and then at Peter. “What was that for?”

“Uh… peanuts?” he manages and rubs his neck nervously. “I mean, they’re chocolate covered peanuts. And you never pay attention, so… yeah.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay, listen, Webs. It’s nice that you care and pay attention or whatever, but this is ridiculous, okay?” he says. “I’ve gotten along just fine without you for years, I think I can manage my own allergy. I certainly don’t need you jumping over tables and knocking candy out of my hand.”

Peter is tempted to point out the several times he’s had to keeps peanuts away from Sam (he didn’t even tell Aunt May, she had no idea, how was that even possible?), but figures it’s probably best that he doesn’t. Besides, even he can admit when he’s crossed a line, and he has been a little overbearing recently.

He sighs. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll back off.”

Sam gives a small smile. “That’s all I’m asking.”

+1

The Guardians of the Galaxy have taken to visiting Earth a lot more frequently in recent months, whether it just be a social call, or a legitimate, Earth threatening event. During their visits, Sam would disappear for hours at a time, and when he returned, he’d be bouncing on the balls of his feet and laughing his way through whatever antics Rocket had gotten him into.

This time, when he comes back, the Guardians are a panicking mess with Sam being carried in Gamora’s arms.

“What happened?” Peter asks, following the Guardians to the med bay.

“How should I know?” Rocket rants. “You stupid humans are too fragile, all he did was eat some ice cream!”

It’s then that Peter can finally catch a glance of Sam. His face is red and splotchy, and it looks like he’s having a little trouble breathing. He knows immediately what’s wrong, and motions for the Guardians to follow him to the med bay.

“What’s happening to him?” Gamora asks, laying Sam down on the nearest cot.

“’m fine,” Sam says, trying to push himself up.

“Peanut allergy,” Peter answers as a doctor steps over to assist. “What were you saying about being able to manage your own allergy?”

Sam glares and gives him the finger.

“You have a peanut allergy?” Star Lord nearly shrieks. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t know?” Peter asks, surprised.

“There aren’t exactly peanuts in space, Spider-Boy.” Star Lord quirks an eyebrow, and Peter kind of wants to correct him, but lets it go.

Peter and the Guardians are quickly ushered out of the room when it’s clear they aren’t planning on helping, so they’re left to wait outside.

“What is a peanut allergy?” Drax eventually asks.

“It just means he can’t eat peanuts,” Peter explains. “His body just reacts to it differently than other people.”

Rocket grumbles about weak humans, and Peter and Star Lord both shoot him offended glares.

By the time the SHEILD doctors allow them back inside, the Guardians are scrambling through the door. Peter allows them to go first and patiently waits in the hallway until he can talk to Sam alone.

As soon he steps into the room, Sam looks like he’s stuck between avoiding his gaze and glaring at him.

“Don’t say it,” he says. “Don’t you dare say it, Parker.”

“Say what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Sam continues. “If you say ‘I told you so,’ I swear I’ll tell the doctor you hit me, and then you won’t be allowed back in here.”

Peter laughs and sits down on the end of the bed. “I would never,” he says, but has to bite his tongue. “But does this mean I can start tackling you over tables again to stop from being stupid?”

“No,” Sam huffs, and kicks at him. “But I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you, I dunno, helped keep an eye out or whatever.”

“Deal,” he nods and gets up off the bed, heading towards the door. “You should get some rest, Sam.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he gripes.

Peter rolls his eyes and stops before leaving the room. “Oh, and Sam? I told you so.”

He ducks out the door before the pillow can hit him.

[indeego]

Vent #1

I go to a school where our suites have 2 rooms, 2 people each (usually 3 in one room, but then covid happened). So my roommate, the one I actually share a space with, is sometimes hard to deal with.

We had to take a little personality quiz to be matched with someone, like how messy are you, are you a night owl, etc etc. I think I’m kind of half and half with neatness. I’m not perfect, but I usually leave my messes out of sight/under the bed if I have them. Well, when I met my roommate I thought they would be similar, but no. They flat out told me they lied on the form because they were embarrassed to admit how messy they were or something. Like, bruh. No one is using that to judge you, they’re using it to match you with a good roommate to live with, i.e. someone else who’s messy and won’t mind living in it. It’s all on their side which is good, but there’s so much old food wrappers and cans, and one time a whole ass pizza sat in our room for 3 days. They never do their chores (but to be fair, I’m not so great at keeping up with mine either), never takes out the trash in our bathroom, never replaces the toilet roll, uses a shit ton of said toilet paper as well as q-tips, and I pay to replace all of them. They even told me to my face that they are never gonna take out the garbage from our bathroom, and that if he tried to help with the main room garbage they’d throw up. Me too bitch, I nearly throw up doing it cause we’re all nasty but it has to be done!! Smaller detail but they also use a shit ton of ketchup and most of it gets wasted and thrown away and like fdjklfdsjfskld just make a smaller pile and get more if you need it it’s not that hard. They also planned bringing their dog here at some point this year without consulting me at all, and expects us all to help out with her. They even said “so picking up dog poop makes me wanna puke” and then looked at me all expectantly like I was gonna let out and clean up after THEIR DOG. I straight up had to say I wasn’t gonna pick up their dog’s shit. I can’t take her for walks, I can’t play with her, I’m too busy trying to hold myself together and keep up with school work. I got so stressed out last semester with finals, we all did, and you want to add a dog on top of that??? Another small detail, they are constantly using nasal spray. I get it, you gotta use it to breathe sometimes, but I have never once seen them blow their nose. Not once in the many months of living with them. Just the constant sniffle sniffle sniff sniff sniffle sniffle I’m gonna SCREAM! JUST BLOW YOUR NOSE!!!! Honestly I’m kinda pissed that I could have gotten a different roommate.

Now, part of the lack of motivation with chores and stuff is because they have a lot of mental health issues. Severe depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicidal tendencies, etc. They mentioned to me that they had been in psych wards before for this it got so bad. Now I myself have definitely had a history with poor mental health. It was bad for a really long time, I even got close to a suicide attempt once. I hated myself in every possible aspect, but now I’m finally starting to love myself. I’ve made definite progress, even if it’s not perfect, and I’m really proud of myself for that. But part of that is I stopped making depressing and self deprecating jokes, and turned to more positive ones. I stopped saying I was stupid or garbage or whatever, now I’m like “I’m cool and sexy and powerful actually” and it’s been great. My roommate however, is still in that headspace of self deprecation and self hate and I think it’s starting to rub off on me. I’ve caught myself saying I was stupid more than a few times, and generally my mood has gotten worse over this school year. And just the other week, my roommates depression meds ran out, and Walgreens wouldn’t give them a refill (Walgreens in general has been so shitty to this whole household lately like fuck you Walgreens). This meant they had to go cold turkey for 5 days, and slowly they got more moody and upset and depressed (also tangent, I know they have phone anxiety but that can’t be a catch all excuse all the time. They never call before their prescription runs out, and that’s why they have to go days without it. Then they go through a whole spiral for like a week and I’m just thinking “what did you expect to happen, that more drugs would just instantly appear?” I have anxiety about phone calls too, that’s why I have to write a script out before I do certain phone calls, maybe try that). They were constantly saying that they wanted to die, and all I could offer was a “please don’t do that” and suggest taking a shower, drinking some water, or eating a proper meal. It got so bad that they woke me up in the afternoon saying I needed to drive with them to the hospital because their therapist said it was that, or he’d call the cops to escort them. I spent my entire afternoon at a hospital with them, feeling very uncomfortable with the situation. I now have the job of locking their pills and sharp objects in my nightstand drawer so they don’t kill themselves. I feel like I’m the only thing keeping them from committing suicide, and I already got a lot of trauma from that with my mom, I don’t want history repeating itself with my roommate. I don’t want to fear that I’ll wake up and find their corpse, or that I’ll hear them overdosing from the room over and have to call an ambulance. I thought things would get better after the hospital gave them a month refill of their meds, but things still aren’t improving. They keep saying “what if I just killed myself,” “what if I just die,” “what if I just jump out the window,” “I wanna kill myself” and it makes me so feel so uncomfortable and bad, like if I say the wrong thing I’ll set them off or be responsible for making their mood worsen. I know they can’t control that their brain doesn’t produce what it needs to, but I don’t want to be responsible for them and their life. But I have to pretend to be ok with all of this because they don’t have any other option.

Related to that, they also mentioned how they’ve never really had any real friends before (in person at least), and that it’s been really nice to have the rest of us with them and not hate them. But I sometimes don’t enjoy living with them at all. They’ve told me how they had a poor childhood with no friends, and they feel like all their friends eventually stop talking to them and leave them, and it makes me feel guilty for wanting to do the same thing. They think it means they’re too annoying to deal with (which I mean they’re annoying sometimes but I can deal for now), but I feel like it’s more because they’re kind of a huge ball of negativity and sudden mood swings. I’d feel bad just totally ditching them, but I honestly don’t think it’s good for my mental health to be dealing with them and living with them.

Something else is that they are really into Critical Role. Like, mega obsessed with it. I understand it’s probably a hyperfixation and a comfort show, but they’re so invested that when something bad happens in the show it really impacts their mood. Like, they got genuinely really angry and slammed the door of our room when a character almost died. They lay on the floor for nearly 20 minutes after an episode when something bad happens. They also scream so goddamn loud. They’re in our room with the door closed but that does nothing to muffle the sound. So many loud yells and screams and shouting it makes me want to punch a wall. And the fact that the show goes until midnight or later so our room is just occupied until then. Sometimes I want to go to sleep at a decent hour, or I’m just tired, but I don’t want to make them go into the main room because then ALL of us will hear them and no one wins. They also have put so much of their mental wellbeing on if Liam O’Brien likes their fanart or not. They have said “if Liam doesn’t like this fanart I’m gonna kill myself” like, he’s a busy real life adult man who doesn’t have time to sift through every piece of fanart that comes his way. Sure it might happen, but if it doesn’t then tough luck, you gotta move on. You can’t hinge your entire mental wellbeing on a stranger giving you a like on twitter.

I know that a good option for me would probably be to request a new roommate or something, but I don’t know how that would work. I really like the other two, even if I also have small things I dislike, it’s nothing like this level. I don’t know, if anyone out there sees this and has some advice I’d appreciate it.

[hirasenshi]

//okay so full thing under cut but I’ve had a messed up few days so don’t expect much in the way of activity for me until sometime during the week next week.

BASICALLY my ambien flat out stopped working. Even with ambien + Tylenol PM, I wasn’t sleeping at night? So went to the doc on Wednesday to get that shit fixed or try at least, and get other meds refilled.

I got put on lunesta. Wednesday night, tired as shit, I go to bed and take meds at 7pm.

At 730, I start having this weird icky breath which, okay, y’know, I was warned it would happen because I read the inserts and do google everything I’m put on because I’m that person. It was almost gag worthy, but I figured, y’know, if I can sleep then I can handle it.

Sometime after that I’m laying on my back, staring at the ceiling, and like, legit I thought I rolled off of the bed to get water (because I didn’t wanna bother hubby since he was on sleepy medicine too) and I just inchwormed my way from the bedroom, past the kids’ rooms, into the living room where I saw my sister and daughter chilling on the couch.

...I woke up still laying on my back in the bed at that point, because newsflash -- my sister doesn’t live with us anymore.

That was at 930pm Wednesday night.

After that, I just kept having very vivid dreams and would sleep maybe an hour or so before waking up again, and like they were entertaining ‘cause like, I somehow was in the UK, befriending the UK and Russian swim and basketball teams, and Mystique from the X-Men was on the Russian swim team and I was just ‘girl, do what you wanna do, fuck your mom’ and it was fun but really disorienting.

Then my alarm went off at 630 to take Sasha to wait for the bus.

I was so out of it, that I legit couldn’t move further than the living room. She had to walk to the bus by herself (which given there’s a stop right in front of the apartment complex, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds, but it’s still terrifying). Sitting at the computer, I kept nodding off, despite Josh running and screaming and being his usual 3 year old self.

It got cute at one point because I managed to tell him ‘mommy doesn’t feel good’ and bless his heart, he tried to take care of me, because he looked at me and pointed to my medicine bottles sitting on the desk, ‘cause all he knows is medicine makes people feel better.

But my texts to hubby that morning must have been alarming because he came home from work 2 hours early because I was just THAT OUT OF IT.

In the midst of this, I called my doc’s office and they called back to say ‘just keep trying the medicine, the side effects wear off’ but I was not fucking taking that again Thursday night because I wasn’t gonna make hubby come home early again because I couldn’t do jack shit.

So, we’re still on Thursday. Brain fog and sour mouth/throat/breath and general drowsiness and disorientation doesn’t fade until 8pm. By that time I’m already in bed, trying to sleep, but because my body is fucked up, I didn’t fall asleep until after 5am Friday morning.

630am Friday morning, I’m up taking Sasha to the bus, chilling and waiting for hubby to come home so I can curl up and attempt to take a nap/

My aunt invited herself over to get me to sign a thing. Right after he got home.

So me being me, because I haven’t talked to this aunt in years, I’m running all over the living room, making everything ‘aunt friendly’ which meant changing my background picture because ‘why would you have that gay shit on your computer’ and hiding certain books and just cleaning so we didn’t look like deadbeat parents.

Only for her to be unable to get up the stairs.

So then I have to go out to find a notary (which amusingly enough was just up to the apartment office, who knew?) then I get home and finally crawl in bed at about 130pm.

....

....

Sleep doesn’t come.

So I get up again. Try to do things just to pass the time (which ironically enough involved researching Samoa and American Samoa for RP things for Hunk). Make it to like, 7pm, and I bite the bullet.

I take the new pill.

730 rolls around, nothing new, still feeling tired but can’t get to sleep.

8 rolls around, the sour mouth/throat/breath thing starts, but not as intense as it was Wednesday night into Thursday.

830 rolls around and I’m still wide awake and having to pee every 30 minutes or so for some damn reason.

Thankfully after that, I fell asleep but man. I was still sleeping very small amounts of time before waking up, and so at like 8am this morning I give up, get up, get a bite to eat, decide to take a bath to help myself relax a bit ‘cause my back hurt.

Oops that was a bad idea, I nearly passed out in the bath.

so I get out of the bath, get dried off, tell hubby I’m going back to bed and promptly do so until about 1230 this afternoon.

I’m still somewhat brainfoggy and shit but, not as bad as I was thursday.

And everything tastes off a bit but...not as bad as on Thursday.

And I know a lot of shit about Samoa/American Samoa now.

But things are so far from 100% I would definitely be failing if life were graded.