#this disease can go suck eggs frankly

[dragqueenpentheus]

mmmm

[genderlessghoul]

I'm sick so this is purely self indulgent

(Please be nice, I don't usually write but I have a lot of ghoul thoughts)

Summary : Phantom gets sick for the first time, Dewdrop decides to take care of him. Nothing more than Ant being an oblivious dumbass and Dew turning into his mom.

Since his first day Top Side, Phantom was always one of the first ghouls awake. He'd already be sitting down at the kitchen table eating his toast when the others would start to slowly appear one by one for eggs or coffee or whatever they needed to start the day.

That morning, Phantom was not up before everyone. In fact he did not even show up at all for breakfast. The unusual change in behavior had one particular fire ghoul worried enough to pay him a visit after his meal.

Dew finds himself in front of the young ghoul's closed door, no light coming from under it and no noise coming from the other side. Maybe Phantom's still asleep. But he's never still asleep at this time.

The fire ghoul knocks after a few seconds of consideration. A small, almost inaudible whimper answers him. He turns the door knob and walks into the room.

The curtains are still closed. There's a faint halo of light emanating from the edges, just enough to cast a dim light on the bed. There lies a truly ridiculous pile of blankets, the only sign of the quintessence ghoul burried within being the gentle rise and fall of said pile. The room, which usually carries Phantom's scent of sunlight and chamomile, smells of something sour.

"Hey..." Dew starts, not quite sure how to handle the situation. He walks closer to the bed as he speaks "What's going on, what's wrong?"

"I don't know" the younger ghoul's voice is shaky and coarse "I just woke up like this. My head feels dizzy, I'm so cold and my nose" he sniffs loudly "it just won't stop leaking."

Now sitting on the edge of the bed, Dew is able to push away enough of the blankets to be able to see Phantom's face and make up the outline of his body. He's curled up on himself, completely shivering.

"Oh shit, I think you might have caught a cold for the first time. I told you to dress up warmer yesterday, it's getting chilly outside."

"How can I catch a temperature?" the tone of absolute confusion in his voice makes the fire ghoul chuckle against his better judgment.

"No baby, it's just a way of saying you got sick. One of the joys of living amongst humans, you can get diseases like them too. It's just a little virus, it'll pass."

"What's a virus?"

Dew's not sure how to answer that question. He's never been one to get into the sciences of it all. He's never been sick himself, one of the pros of being part fire ghoul is that his body runs too hot for most uninvited guests of the sort to thrive.

"I don't... Really know, I've never been sick... I guess it's a thing that lives inside you and tries to like... Kill you?"

"What???" Phantom gives out a truly pathetic squeak and another loud sniff "Am I gonna die? Is that why my nose is leaking, are my insides slowly liquifying?"

"Naaah, takes a whole lot more than a cold to kill a ghoul. But it's gonna royally suck to be alive for a couple days."

"Please just kill me already" the request is accompanied by a series of sad groans as the sick ghoul turns around to bury his head in his pillow.

"Oh don't be so dramatic" Dew gets up the bed and heads towards the door "Stay there, I'll be back."

He hears more groans as he heads into the halway towards the kitchen.

Phantom doesn't move after Dewdrop leaves. His head is in too much of a fuzz, it feels like it's about to explode. He feels truly pathetic and quite frankly gross, laying there with his snot slowly soaking into the pillowcase. When the fire ghoul emerges back in the doorframe, he's carrying a tray with a bowl, a cup, a box and a small container.

"Whas all that?" the quintessence ghoul inquires.

"Sit up" the older ghoul orders. Phantom obeys without arguing but not without a few pathetic whimpers. How dare he be asked to move when he's on the brink of death?

Dew walks back towards the bed and sets the tray on the nightstand before sitting next to his protégé. "That's chicken noodle soup in the bowl. It's the fake kind that come in an envelope but I swear it's just as good. I think the yellow powder's slightly radioactive, it might help kill the virus."

Phantom's eyes go wide and he doesn't have a choice but to explain to him that it's not, in fact, radioactive. The new ghoul is so gullible sometimes. It's adorable.

"The cup's mint tea. Real kind tho, Mountain would probably skin any of us for make tea the wrong way. But you know that. Box is just tissues, it's for your runny nose."

"I thought you said you never got sick?"

"I don't... Why?"

"Well there's a box of it by your bed. Is it in case Rain gets sick?"

"Yup that's it, it's for Rain, enough questions. And that small thing" he grabs the container from the tray and unscrews the lid, putting it directly below the other's nose. The smell is strong, Phantom throws his head back in surprise. "It's to help you breathe better"

Dew dips his fingers into the mixture and rubs it lightly on between the sick ghoul's collar bones. "Thank you"

"You're welcome. Now move over, I need space in there too."

"Hm?"

"Speaking from everyone else's experience, the best way to get over a cold is to cuddle up next to somethin' extra toasty" the quintessence moves enough to allow the older one to settle right next to him. He takes the bowl of soup from the side of the bed and places it carefully in Phantom's lap. "Eat it while it's still warm. Then we can spend all day napping and watching stupid movies, sounds nice?"

"Yeah... Sounds real nice" there the hint of a purr starting up in his chest. Maybe it's not all that bad if he gets the fire ghoul all to himself for an entire day.

[vltonsolomon-blog]

BEST TIPS AND TREATMENTS FOR MOSQUITOES

BEST TIPS AND TREATMENTS FOR MOSQUITOES

Universally speaking, mosquitoes are the most hated insects in the world. These little disease carriers live by sucking off blood from various types of hosts such as animals up to humans. Yes, you read that right. They actually feed on animals and then feed on you. Because of this, they are known to be one of the most deadliest insects there could be. They actually do not carry the venom, or the substance that kills the people, but they can be the ones responsibility for transporting bacteria and diseases from one host to another; these include Zika virus, Encephalitis, Yellow Fever, Dengue, Malaria and a whole lot more. As strange as it may seem, only the female mosquitoes feed on humans. The female mosquitoes require protein in order to produce eggs, but when they don’t need protein, these female insects would also be found to feed in nectar like the male of their kind. The ability of these species to locate a host is also extraordinary. Mosquitoes are able to sense Carbon Dioxide, and mammal blood even when its 75 feet away. Frankly, they are very much sensitive to Carbon Dioxide emissions.

We have listed for you the best tips and treatments you can use against mosquitoes.

Avoid Stagnant Waters

If you’re trying to prevent a mosquito infestation, you have to get rid of the possible nesting spots they can have in your home and in your yard. These creatures are attracted to stagnant water because this is where they would usually lay their eggs. Now, stagnant water enables them to lay eggs in great numbers and it doesn’t really take too long for them to complete their life cycle. That being said, you’ve got to look for those open containers, pots, cans from your garages, yards and the like.

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Put out lanterns

Candles or lanterns have the same effect. Mosquitoes are repellant to heat. This is why their nature is to lay eggs on stagnant water, that is because they prefer cool and wet spots as their breeding grounds. You can set up candles or lanterns outside your homes especially if you’re having outdoor activities just so you can keep these pests away. This actually works for about 15 inches or more in keeping the mosquitoes away.

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[paranoidwino]

stars

Read it here at AO3.

For @bloomsoftly , with the generous help and tips from @dresupi (who is now third best person in the universe, thank you so much!). So honey, I hope you like it!

Souls were, all in all, a very colorful thing.

Everybody had one, regardless of belief. Everybody needed one, but they pretended they were a big affair.

To Darcy, who had been able to see souls since forever, they were nothing but colored dots floating inside of very cute packages, depending on the person they belonged to.

They were a trinket -- if you will -- to be observed and admired until otherwise needed, and that usually came after death.

And it was Truth.

So she wasn't really prepared for the shiny golden aura surrounding Dr Jane Foster, astrophysicist.

It was blinding, overwhelming and beautiful; Darcy kinda wanted it.

Mermaids were suckers for shiny, glittering things, not unlike dragons (but let's be real, dragons were just rude lizards...), and they showed it by collecting the oddest things and showing off as much jewelry they could get away with (and with the long tails they had, it was a lot).

It probably wasn't possible to collect a soul, Darcy had never tried to anyway, but she unconsciously gravitated towards it regardless.

She started showering Jane with food and pop-tarts, content to bask in the golden light that was Jane Foster, and that was that.

New Mexico sucked and chafed at her skin for all the wrong reasons.

She was used to sand, but not hot sand and frankly the dry heat was disgusting and so was the sun (you stupid star, you!) and the only respite were the frequent showers she was able to take (who cared about hot water anyway).

She was sick and tired of it all after six days, and ordered an inflatable kiddie pool after ten.

“Jane! Jane!”

Jane Foster blinked owlishly at her friend and mentor, Erik Selvig. He looked pale and was waving frantically at her.

“What? And why are you whispering?” She mimicked his tone.

“There's a mermaid in a wading pool on your roof!”

“...What?” What time was it anyway? Was she drunk? Was he drunk?

But Erik kept gesticulating wildly to the roof. She sighed deeply and followed.

There was a shiny, bronze tail peeking from an inflatable yellow plastic pool that she was certain hadn't been there last she checked.

She gaped, turned to Erik, pointed to the pool and gaped again.

Erik nodded solemnly.

“There's a mermaid in a kiddie pool on my roof.” She repeated dumbly and then flinched at her friend's shushing noises.

“The mermaid can hear you,” came sarcastically from the pool.

Wait a minute, she knew that voice.

“...Darcy?!”

“So...” Jane was going to be cool about it, cool as cucumber. “You're a mermaid?”

The tail in front of her flapped a bit jokingly and the caudal fin splashed her with salt water. “...Did you use the kitchen salt for this?”

“Yes, and yes!” Darcy confirmed airily.

“You're a mermaid, honest to God mermaid.”

“Yes.”

“A real mermaid?” that was Erik.

“Yes,” and now Darcy sounded exasperated. “Look, it's not a big deal...”

“Not a- Not a big deal?!” Jane asked faintly. “Darcy, you have a tail, scales, and let's not forget the fact that you're a mermaid.”

Darcy clicked her tongue, pushed her weight on her arms and managed to take a sitting position, her tail folded neatly under her. “I think we've already established that I am, indeed, a mermaid Jane. And the amount of times the word 'mermaid'  has been used in the last five minutes should be illegal.” She stood wobbly on the side of the inflatable pool and rolled out of it. Under the sun of New Mexico, her skin dried at an incredible speed and the more it dried up, the more her scales disappeared.

Erik sputtered indignantly.

From then on, any time Jane wasn't on her data and calculations and pictures, she spent with Darcy, pelting her with questions.

It wasn't so bad, Darcy mused, at least Jane didn't complain when the salt disappeared or that she hogged the pool for herself.

“So, you have a different civilization?”

“Uh-uh”

“And different technology?”

“That's correct.”

She'd been extremely disappointed when she'd heard that no, there were no astronomers. “Jane, we don't even see the stars from our home. We hardly see the sun! We don't even like it. I mean!” she stuttered quickly, “it's beautiful and all, but it's so far away and there's places in the sea we haven't yet explored, why go up when you can go down?”

Jane was very curious about it all. Favorite foods (We eat fish eggs and algae, Jane, there's not much I can cook for you in New Mexico) and cultural differences (well no we don't have internet and I don't know how I'll live without Tumblr, but we do have sound based tech...) and literature (we have a crap-ton of myths you don't have Janey, we're a completely different species).

And then...

“You haven't explored the world?” Jane couldn't really wrap her mind about not exploring any part of the world they lived in.

“No?” Darcy smiled patiently, “There are places we couldn't go even if we wanted. Like the Arctic” she said matter of factly.

“Too cold?”

“Nah, we used to live there, but then something started zapping our tails off seventy years or so ago.” She shuddered. “We don't go there anymore, the energy is sick, like a disease just waiting to chip off your life.”

And again,

“So, stop me if it's too personal, but...” They were lounging on the roof. Well, she was lounging. Jane was sitting on a chair, with her head propped on her hands as she leaned closer, “How does even 'it' work?” she blushed furiously, “I mean...”

Darcy raised her eyebrows as much as she could, then gave a pointed look to her legs and looked at her.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” she nodded, amused, and went back to her fruit juice.

“Where does the tail come from then?!” Jane asked bewildered.

Darcy made a long, loud noise with the plastic straw. “We reproduce like plants, cut a limb and wait for it to grow and take root-”

“WHAT!”

“...I'm kidding Jane,” she deadpanned, “It's act-Ow! Ow! Stop it!” she laughed as Jane mock hit her with her chair's pillow. The fruit juice dropped on the ground unceremoniously.

She pouted at the loss of her juice. It was good juice.

“Seriously, Darcy!”

Darcy cleared her throat “Look, it's a lot like fish, okay? Eggs and all...” She was a bit uncomfortable with the subject.

Jane blinked. “That sounds anticlimactic.”

“Well, it's not exactly like that,” She shrugged helplessly; maternity wasn't high on her priority list, “there's a lot of stuff involved, like emotions and hormones and magic... it's a big mumbo jumbo you actually need to take a class for?”

“Magic.” Jane said skeptically.

“Well yes, that's normal, right? No magic, no baby and all that.”

“That's... sorry, but the scientist in me refuses to believe magic is responsible for fish tails.”

“And then you can go to Atlantis and tell our people that we've been doing this wrong since the dawn of times. Have fun with the Chief.” Darcy sassed back.

“...Atlantis is real.”

“JANE!”

Diametrically different from Jane, Erik had instead become a very tough customer.

He refused the cookies and the food Darcy offered and ate meals with them grudgingly.

Darcy couldn't really fault him for this, he'd grown up with tales and horror stories of merpeople just waiting to drown unsuspecting sailors. He wasn't wrong theoretically, but it'd been some 3000 years or so that they'd last done so (not keen on becoming stone and sinking in the ocean, no sirree) and Darcy liked to think they'd come a long way from that.

The big monument made of hundreds of sunken sisters wasn't the reason, nope.

She didn't really understand how the story had been remembered as long as it was. They'd stopped caring about the ‘living stuff’ ages ago.

“Why are you here?” He asked her out of the blue one day, when Jane was distracted by whatever thingy was pinging and making funny noises.

Darcy turned and looked at him, confused. “I'm studying political science.”

“Yes. “ He said a bit more forcefully, “but that doesn't explain why you're here. I don't believe this was your only choice.”

Darcy's gaze flitted immediately to Jane. Beautiful, shiny Jane.

“She's shiny.” She responded automatically.

Erik's eyes widened and hardened in three seconds. “What does that mean? Do you wish her harm?”

Darcy frowned. “Of course not. She's shiny, not food. I don't know where you're getting your ideas from, but the deadly singers were all turned into stone something like three thousands years ago and we like it that way.” The corners of her mouth lifted a bit, “I just like looking at her soul.”

Erik gaped. “You look at her soul.”

Darcy nodded. “Yours too, but hers is shinier.” And she said it with complete nonchalance.

“You can see souls.”

“What's with this incredulity at everything I say?” she complained. “Souls are the whole point of our existence. The Guides to the Other Side is not a fancy title, we'd suck if we didn't know where to send people off. Like, really suck. Imagine the mess.”

Erik had nothing to say to that, but sent her particularly pensive looks in the next few days.

And then, the Star-man happened.

Darcy watched Thor as he moved around the gas station that had become her home.

He smelled. Like, 'look at me I come from the sky' smelled. He was pleasant to look at but Laeto have mercy, it made all of her insides tingle the wrong way.

Jane and Erik didn't believe for a second that he came from the sky, but she did.

And it was fine.

The presence of a Star-man didn't fill her with joy or any other fuzzy feeling, but she could ignore it.

She could pretend the presence of a race that had heralded the coming of the Cold ones and the near destruction of her people didn't scare her witless, she could play nice.

What she could not tolerate was the fact that he had started gravitating around the shiniest soul in the house: Jane.

Because Jane's light was hers. She'd claimed it.

The Asgardian had no right to come and take it away from her.

She found herself showing him her teeth dangerously whenever she could get away with it every time he approached Jane, or got too close. As soon as the tiny astrophysicist turned her back here she was, hissing.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that even without his full strength Thor was completely out of her league, so much powerful it wasn't even funny. If a Challenge were to be issued, Darcy had no delusions to win. She'd have no chance, but she couldn't help it. This was her territory.

Erik had noticed that, and was torn between amusement and worry.

Jane was oblivious, but Thor had noticed.

“I know not what ails you, Lady Darcy.” It was Thor who approached her first.

Darcy’s mood had steadily worsened as the days passed, followed by an unease which hadn’t ceased since the moment she’d first smelled and tasered him (that had felt good).

Not three hours before, she’d been almost forced to make up a story and cover his sorry ass from SHIELD, and that’d been a pain (and yep, they were totally going to nail her for this, possibly as a mounted fish on a wall), and so she wasn’t in the best mood.

Darcy hesitated.

She was being unjust. Of course, Thor was arrogant and presumptuous. He had come from a race that historically reveled in the blood of her people (okay, not really, but technically the Asgardians’ war had brought trouble to her people, so...). But it wasn’t really his fault all that had happened, and SHIELD was putting his hands in pies that really didn’t belong to them.

Thor had also mellowed quite a bit since whatever had happened with the magic hammer, but…

“You smell,” she blurted out.

Thor frowned.

“You smell like danger, and wind, and the last time someone like you visited this planet the Cold Ones were there, too.”

Thor’s confusion cleared. “You are of the Deep,” he stated. “I had no idea some of you still lived.”

Darcy nodded. She hadn’t expected him to recognize her race without the customary appearance. Especially since she’d stopped using the pool once he’d begun living with them. No sense in tempting Fate. “Yes. And you herald disaster, Asgardian.” She hissed back defiantly.

The frown was back. “I do not wish harm on this planet,” he assured seriously.

“And yet...” She stared into his eyes, chin raised. “What we wish and what happens are not always the same.”

She didn’t have to explain her reasoning much more, for not a minute later, she was blinded by immense light. Stars exploded in front of her and she shielded her eyes. The smell of overpowered sweetness and spice overwhelmed her. “Ippido have mercy, what is this?!” she exclaimed. “Another Star-man?”

It wasn’t. It was four of them, with their powers and immortality, too.

If Thor gave her the creeps, these four made her feel weak. She had to run. She had to take Jane away and hide her.

Her subconscious was screeching at her. Immortals were sick on their own, five immortals all together was madness. She could hardly see anymore, blinded as she was.

She sunk to the floor and literally crawled to her room, away from all the crazy, and padded on the floor until she found her sunglasses.

A quick glance downstairs showed that yes, while their presence was obnoxious, she could now see properly without risking a cornea flash burn.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses?” Jane whispered when she took a look at her.

“These people’s souls are trying to blind me, boss lady,” she whispered back.

“Oh. Is that a thing?”

“...it is now.”

The Asgardians were exactly the same as Thor. Boisterous, loud and at least ten times brighter than Jane.

Darcy didn’t like them, at all.

She felt she should be intrigued by the silver glow of Sif, or the vibrant red of the other men, but the smell and the stillness of it all really ruined it for her. It was like watching a beautiful rock. Shiny, but immovable and immutable forever. She was bored by the third minute.

And then, the Destroyer happened.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’” she grumbled to Thor, as soon as she was  able to look  him in the eye. His brightness was burning at her skin. What. The. Hell. “But, I told you so. Your people are heralds of disaster, there is no other way you can look at it.”

Thor looked contrite and sincere in his apologies and Darcy felt sorry for him because the situation his friends were causing was terrible for him too. he couldn't imagine what a Crown Prince was to do when his brother went insane and decided to assassinate him for a shot at the throne (well, his brother actually was on the throne now so maybe not too  long  a shot).

“I did not wish for any of this to happen, Lady Darcy,” he said, his deep voice and expression grave. “But I do accept that it is my fault the Destroyer ever came upon this village. And it is my responsibility, to see that Loki is shown the error of his ways.”

They rushed to the Bifrost rune (because the Einstein-Rosen bridge? It was a thing, apparently.), and Thor looked at her -- really looked -- like he had that morning, when he had recognized her for what she was. “I trust you, to keep her safe.”

Darcy felt absurdly annoyed by it all. They had talked about this, hadn't they? Maybe the point wasn't clear enough to him. So she straightened from head to toe, and while she hardly reached his shoulders, she tried to appear as serious and intimidating as she could. “I look after what's mine,” she said bravely.

Erik choked, while Jane looked as if she'd missed something important. She had, but that was not the point.

Thor nodded solemnly. And then he left.

And Jane was inconsolable for a while, and then determination made its way into her soul, and her light sparked anew. They would look for him and bring him back.

And as much as the idea of an Asgardian anywhere near Jane made her break out in cold sweat, Darcy could play nice. She would. For Jane.

Because Jane loved the stars.

And while Jane watched the stars, Darcy watched Jane.

[andalynnamass1997]

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How To Make Heat Protection Hair Spray At Home

They are fluffy, quiet and shy and or reserved.You should also be a plastic tarp covered with newspaper, and covered the traps again.There are several ways to treat cat urine in any way.* Groom your long haired cat would be required for the whole thing.The two cats . One is a behavioural problem that does the added protein come from?

This way the scents of the allergy causing protein or different fur.Aggression among cats is younger, it is too strong, take a chance and never goes outside.So if you only have to plug it to loosen its grip, with an organic problem and sick cats will do whatever the heck they want to keep more from coming.And de-clawed cats are not always sending out that all of us.If the cat with a good enough for people but for cat litter all over the cat's body, the spot with the American Humane Association*, most cat owners to enjoy your cat use the litter box?

[hoardinghostage]

Losing my damn mind

It's like that scene from Labyrinth; the girl is being buried by the garbage crone with the things that represent memories, just as the garbage crone is covered in her "precious memories, too good to give up our guide away" (or something like that). That's what my life has become. I've bought things that I have no use for, because in the moment of buying and the first few days after, it brought me happiness. I have mountains of clothes that I almost never wear because I rarely leave the house at this point. The things have overtaken my life, and with half the house unusable due to the remains of the raw sewage back up, I can't figure out how to get it under control. There's no escape here and I have no energy to be anywhere else except when absolutely necessary. If I were being truly honest, if not for the need to take care of my Mom and help her figure out what had caused her aphasia and then get the hell out of this pit, I wouldn't have anything left to live for. My job is not even 10 hours a week, of strictly online, remote work. I get so little material to work with that it's nothing but a constant frustration. My degree is worthless and apparently so is my wifi experience because I can't get more than an automated response from job applications. I live off of Dramamine because no amount of other medications can stop the constant nausea and the only drug that ever worked before has been banned in my country for literally no reason. And I do mean no reason; the FDA even acknowledged than there were no reports of adverse affects that prompted its removal and that thousands of people depended on it, but a synthetic medication was now available, so that's what everyone will just have to accept. Just like that. And I'm a barely functioning zombie whose always just one quick head turn away from throwing up whatever food I've managed to choke down. I know the house is full of various types of mold, and I'm sure that's contributing. Migraines, nightmares, inability to think straight or organize thoughts, inability to sequence things, loss of time from "spacing out", sleep disturbances, mood swings, depression, constant fatigue, constant intestinal distress, and the list goes on. Short of burning this fucker to the ground, I don't think it can be dealt with. I've scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed till the skin on my hands cracked and bled, till so much baking soda and pumice and other scrubbing material was so far up my nails that my nail beds were pulling away from the nail and bleeding. It doesn't do a damn thing. No amount of bleach and vinegar and baking soda and scrubbing bubbles and Mr. Clean and soap of every kind will clean any of this. It all needs to burn and we need to walk away. But that won't happen. Good things don't happen here. Second chances are fairytales at best, flat out lies at worst. Real people don't get second chances. They may get to keep living and try to not repeat their mistakes, but only the bright and shiny celebrity gets the mythical "second chance". Get hooked on drugs, break into homes, steal, sleep with an underage girl, beat on a girlfriend... all acceptable, forgivable acts of done by a celebrity. But for those of us in the real world, whether trapped in The Middle or not, an unforgivable sin here is getting a college degree without having worked two jobs while completing it and heaven forbid it take you longer than four years! You're "lazy and selfish" if you don't have four years exclusive when you get a bachelor degree, and you still had better not expect anything better than $1.50/hr for a 40/wk, but that may include rodent infested "company housing", so be fucking grateful you're getting paid anything for your entry level job, even though you made more after four years in to a big box retail store. Oh, and you won't actually work 40 hours a week of you're getting paid less than $5/hr, you'll be working more line 80 to 90 hours. Of course, the lucky few out there can get as much as $10/hr after a few years, but you won't be working 40 hours then either. Nope. You'll be lucky to get 12 hours at that job. So you'll juggle two or three, and sometimes up to five jobs, until you get sick, which you will. Then you go into medical debt that you will never climb out from under, and if you actually have health insurance at the time, you'll likely have your SSID stolen and fraudulent charges paid out by your insurance, the balance of you will be deemed responsible for because unless the insurance company declares it fraud, then you can't fight the charges. Even if you're a young female and the charges are for a 50+ year old man getting a prostate screening and you were halfway across the country for a goddamn conference trying to get a fucking job, they're still going to hold you responsible, because the hospital you went to for a broken hand can fuck anyone in any way they want and no one can legally do anything about it because the law gives the that power. So years of fighting fraudulent debt, illness that no one seems to be able to effectively treat for more than a few months because, oh yeah, they want $600 out of pocket that no insurance will reimburse for because the doctors who will treat refuse to work with insurance, and you barely work and end up feeling worthless and stupid for ever thinking a so called "education" could possibly be your "Golden Ticket" out of the small town and house of hoard you got sucked into in your teens. At this point, while not being a whale or hideous, you're not striking anyone's fancy enough to go the "Mrs.-Ticket" as a way out, and frankly even working a street corner isn't an option because your knees have been eastern away by disease so you can't stand very long anyhow. And that leads to right fucking now: completely losing my fucking mind. Right to the point of taking about myself as someone else, because apparently I'm disassociating that much right now... There's work to be done, a meal to be eaten since all I could eat so far today was a handful of lunch meat and a hard boiled egg, but I really don't want to eat. I want to take another two Ativan and go to bed. I don't really care if I don't get up at this point. Except, I do care, because them there would be no one to take Mom to her CT scan tomorrow and they need to figure out why she can barely talk. She deserves better than this; better than anything I'll likely ever be able to give her short of winning the damn lottery. I don't even know where to start fixing anything. Therapy can help on the surface at first, but it doesn't solve any of the practical problems in front of me: I need a medication to stop my constant nausea and something to help the endless fatigue, I need a job that offers 40/hrs/wk and a pay rate that I can cover bills and save to get out of here, and I need to do whatever is necessary to get my Mom out of this. No amount of therapy can help with any of that! It didn't help you get a job, it doesn't help you get medicine when your doctors either brush you off as "crazy-hormonal-female" or just seem to be sucking you dry with tests that go no where and medicine that costs a fortune but doesn't really fix anything. Therapy helps if your life doesn't really sick, but you're just bummed it's not as perfect as you think you deserve. It helps if you need to realize that no one deserves to be abused and it's not your fault someone you loved decided to be a horrible spey excuse for a human. Therapy doesn't do a damn thing for real, practical problems, and I wish to hell people would recognize that what we need is not just more psychiatrists who will admit that there is no absolute proof that medication does anything more than talk therapy can; we need practical problem solvers and the money to help people with things like cleaning and purging and maintaining a reasonable home. Practical problems need practical answers and actual help initiating those answers: not just "recognize the problem, think it through, and then *just do it*" cheering. I think I need at least 1/2 an Ativan now... it's been a long fucking life so far. 😧