#would’ve had this surgery over a year ago but my health wasn’t good enough back then so i decided to wait until it is

[dreaminofu]

Surgery day today 👀

[literaryfic]

singer!cha-young & violonist!vincenzo au pt.1

don’t ask me why. i have no answer for you okay.

cha-young starts her career when she’s 5, appearing in a yogurt commercial. she’s not exactly a cute child, but she’s enthusiastic and disciplined.

her dad, the retired leader of a rock band who had a few hit songs in the 80s, is the one who introduces her to music.

she learns the piano & the guitar and takes singing lesson. her childhood is guided by auditions and music classes.

when she’s 12, a big agency contacts her and she signs a trainee contract with them. her dad is against it, but her mom and her win him over. she’ll be careful, they’ll look after her.

she starts training after school everyday, on the weekends too. she’s not really good at dance and she gets in trouble a lot but she’s the best singer in her age group, which makes up for it.

time passes by and the company starts to ask her to lose weight. her dance teacher comments on how big her thighs are. she’s asked if she ever thought about a nose job, or an eye surgery. those things happen a lot, and if she wants a sit at the big table, she’ll need to make some decisions.

her parents disagree, of course, but then her mother falls ill. she has to stop working and money becomes scarce. cha-young doesn’t want to bother them with her insignificant issues and so she starts a diet without any of them noticing. she needs to be thinner, maybe she’ll win a scholarship and her dad won’t need to work two jobs anymore.

her dad comes home drunk most nights, as if the sight of her mother made him sick. she was dying and her husband couldn’t even look at her anymore. cha-young doesn’t know who she hates more: her dad or herself for wishing she could escape home the same way he did every night.

her mom dies when she’s 15 and she stops taking lessons. she quits the company after a while too. she wins a scholarship for a good arts high school, known to hone musical talents. she meets new friends there, ones who don’t care about her proportions or her eyelids, and she’s happy in school.

her dad and her starts to argue more and more, until they stop talking. she fills the silence in her empty house with the music she writes.

after she graduates high school, she works two jobs to pay her way through college. all of her spare time is used composing, writing lyrics, singing. she posts covers on YouTube and she starts to gain some followers.

it’s not enough to make money but an independent label that’s been on the rise notices her. she signs with them after reading the contract carefully, when she’s 19. she choses her stage name, NOVA.

her first album is out by the time she’s 20 and she starts appearing on tv. her second album at 23 is her big break. her first hit song “Alone With You”, an upbeat tune contrasted by sad lyrics, stays on top of the charts for weeks, owing her the nickname of “monster rookie”.

people soon start to discover her easy-going, bubbly yet blunt personality and she starts going on more variety shows.

she’s loved and she’s found her sound, profound lyrics with innovative instrumentals, she plays with genres and concepts often, keeping her image fresh.

at 30, she’s one of the biggest South Korean solo act. she tours the world, sells album, holds events for her fans, travels. she doesn’t have to think about money anymore. she lives in a luxurious apartment in the centre of Seoul.

she’s learned that not everyone is going to love her. she’s used to dealing with virulent anti-fans, stalkers and paparazzi.

she has everything her 15 year old self dreamt of, an amazing career and devoted fans, a name people recognise and a wardrobe bigger than their previous living room. yet, she can’t seem to fill the emptiness inside of her.

she calls her dad once a year, for the new year. he still lives in their old house, refusing to move into the one she bought just for him. he teaches guitar to kids at the community center in their neighbourhood. her anger doesn’t seem to fade with the years.

she almost looses everything when her assistant, jung jun woo, leaks the fact that she’s had an abortion after she rejects him.

she’d been dating an actor a few years ago, and they had had an accident. she’d noticed too late that she missed her period since it was irregular and had to get an abortion. she didn’t think any of it now, there’s nothing wrong with a woman making this choice and she wasn’t ready to become a mother. she’d never once regretted it in the past.

however, South Korea’s entertainment industry was not a kind one, and a news like that would destroy her clean, quirky girl-next-door image she’d built over the years. and it did.

she’d never expected jun woo to betray her. he was part of her management team, one of her assistants. he’d always been cute if not a little clingy.

he’d confessed his feelings for her a few weeks back, claiming that he knew they were made for each other and that he would do everything for her and she’d laughed in his face. she hadn’t meant to sound mean or insensitive, she had thought it was a prank he was pulling on her.

turns out it wasn’t, and he had leaked this “abortion gate” to dispatch to get get back at her.

her label had released a vague statement, about “a difficult time in her life”, urging people to stop looking into “her private medical history”.

trashy tabloids and online blogs had had a field day. some people even started a petition to remove her from the industry. the news quickly turned into a social discourse when feminist orgs stood up for her. everyone was talking about it, some claiming she was a slut, others turning her into a symbol for women’s rights.

she felt like neither, it had been too long since she’d gotten some to qualify as a slut, and her label would have never let her discuss politics publicly.

she’d lost dozens of endorsements and deals and had officially decided to “focus on her health away from the spotlight” for a while (another statement from her label)

officially on her first hiatus ever, cha-young was lost. every time she tried to write, nothing came out. it would’ve been the perfect time to work on a new album but it seemed nothing worked in her favour as of late.

it’s 6 am when her father calls her. the last she’d heard of him was when the scandal broke out and he’d sent a vague supportive message to which she had responded “thanks, dad”. it was unusual for him to call, especially so early (or late).

she picks up the phone the second times he calls. “hello?” “hello, do you know the owner of this phone?” the man on the other side of the line is definitely not her father and he sounds rather annoyed. “yes, i’m this person’s daughter.” “great, can you come pick him up from my hotel room?” “your hotel room? is he okay?” “he should be. we drank too much and i have to vacate the room before 8. can you come or not?” “yes.” “I’ll text you the address from his phone.” is the last thing he says before hanging up. what a rude man.

why was her father drunk in hotel room with this rude stranger and why was she the one having to pick him up?

she doesn’t want to wake up her manager at this hour, and so she decides to go on her own. the hotel isn’t too far, a mere 15 minute drive, and soon enough she’s knocking on the door of a very expensive hotel suit, definitely not what one of her father’s friends could afford. who the hell was this guy?

she definitely did not expect Vincenzo Cassano, renowned world class violinist, to be the one opening the door.

[hellitwasyoufirstsergeant]

Hi everyone! I’m not really sure why I’m posting this here, I suppose because I’m not ready for people I know ‘irl’ to see this, and this is the only account I have anywhere where none of my irl friends follow it. As to why I’m posting this at all, I’m not so sure either. I suppose largely for myself, in the hope that it will exorcise some demons, and partly for other people, because eating disorders just are not discussed enough and perhaps by posting this I can show someone else that they’re not alone. 

There may be mistakes in this and it may not all be 100% coherent, I found it hard to write and I didn’t wish to read it back over.

WARNING: The following post contains discussions of eating disorders and mental health issues. Please do not read if this is a trigger for you, and please not not read if you’re only here to pass judgement 

Looking back now, it’s so easy to realise why I felt the way I did, and to see my descent into mental illness. At the time, it was confusing as hell. I wasn’t diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder and clinical depression until I was 17, although I had been suffering from both for six years already, I just didn’t realise it, because I just didn’t know they existed. I didn’t know there were medical conditions to describe how I felt, perhaps if I did I wouldn’t have felt so alone and so alienated. It wasn’t until last year that I realised I’d suffered from an eating disorder. Before that, I didn’t know that binge eating was an eating disorder. 

The words ‘eating disorder’ to me conjured up images of skeletal bodies, of people making themselves sick. I wish that preteen and teen me knew that I was suffering from an actual condition, that other people suffered from too. 

I don’t recall specifically the first time I binged on food, but over autumn (fall) of 2011 it became a regular occurrence, a habit. It was my way of coping with the changes in my life - starting a new school, my mum being diagnosed with a clinical illness and an increasingly fractured relationship with my dad - and my feelings of loneliness. I was also self conscious about my body, I was in a more advanced stage of puberty than most of my peers and I was aware of the fact that I was a little overweight. Bingeing became an outlet for feelings that I couldn’t understand, and therefore that I couldn’t process. 

It was a process that I repeated regularly for six years. It was like a paradox, the more I looked at myself in the mirror and hated what I saw, the more I binged, the very thing that made me carry on putting on weight. I was overweight, I still am today, but I wish that I could have seen myself the way others saw me - slightly chubby but not the ugly monster I thought myself at the time. I ate my feelings away, it was the only coping mechanism I knew. Even when in some ways my life improved - when I was 14 I finally fell in with a group of friends who were kind and who made me feel accepted - my mental state continued to decline and I continued to eat to cope. I was also feeling confused about my sexuality, something that increased my sense of alienation and otherness. It was often the only thing that got me through the day, the only thing that made life bearable to me. 

I never confided the way I felt or my problem with food to anyone during this period. My mum knew that I had issues with food, twice she found hidden stashes in my bedroom. She has been a good parent to me, but I so wish she’d handled it differently. She made me feel ashamed, something that made me more determined to hide my problem and therefore to not confront it. I think perhaps that she would’ve been a lot more understanding had she known the feelings behind the problem, but I didn’t know how to go about telling her. 

I can’t remember how old I was exactly when I shoplifted food for the first time, I think around 14. The £10 a week pocket money was no longer enough to fund my problem, even though I always chose the cheapest food so that I could buy as much as possible. I shoplifted semi regularly from the local supermarkets for around 18 months, I still don’t know how I was never caught. 

In September 2016, I started sixth form college. It was a fresh start that I so badly needed, my five years at secondary school having been so unhappy. It was hard to begin with, only my oldest friend went to the same college as me and old feelings of loneliness resurfaced. A part of me had hoped that the change of school would allow me to leave my bingeing habit behind, but it wasn’t to be. Even when I settled in and began making friends, I continued bingeing. 

New friends at college told me of their mental health issues, and I finally felt understood - there were other people who felt the way I did, other people who wanted to die. These feelings may not be normal, but I’m not alone anymore. Despite feeling accepted properly for the first time in my life, I continued to eat. Perhaps it was the stress of A levels (my fellow Brits know how fucking hard these are), or my mum’s decline in health, or my increasingly worsening relationship with my dad. 

In May/June time of 2017, my oldest friend, Imogen, who was one of a few friends now aware of my poor mental state, told me that I should go to the doctor. After a little persuading, I agreed. She came with me, but the appointment achieved nothing. I tried a few more GPs at my local surgery and eventually found one who made me feel listened to, and who was kind and sympathetic. I don’t recall the exact time I was diagnosed (to be honest this period in my life is a bit of a blur), but after some months I was finally diagnosed with GAD and clinical depression. I still continued to stay silent about my problem with food. 

Ironically, it was actually the further decline of my mental state that allowed me to break my old habit. My mental health had declined fairly slowly over the past few years, but the decline accelerated over autumn and winter of 2017. I don’t know if there was a trigger behind that, I guess mental health doesn’t need a reason. I didn’t know how to deal with the way I felt, I lashed out and fell out with Imogen, which hit me hard. We didn’t talk at all for three months. Before this period, I had often thought that things would be so much easier if I was dead, but my thoughts had never progressed beyond that. Now, it became more active. I actually wanted to die. I stopped looking when I crossed the road, I stopped looking after my physical health at all. Fears about hurting my mum were the only thing stopping me from taking it further. But, I finally stopped binge eating, so disinterested in life that even the that no longer made me feel better. 

My mental state didn’t take a turn for the better, but I grew used to these new feelings and started to process them properly. I got better at pushing them out, but I did eventually decide to tell my parents about my diagnoses. My mum was very supportive, she still is, my dad not so (although I probably should’ve expected that). I made up with Imogen, my behaviour started to normalise. I felt so free from my old bingeing habit, it had only been a few months but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

In February 2018, my mum told me that she’d be moving to Yorkshire. She’d been forced by her job to take early retirement due to ill health, she was only 50 at the time, and wanted to live somewhere cheaper so she could save on living costs and pay off her mortgage. I was scared, and considered for a time moving in with my grandparents so that I could stay in a place where I knew people, but eventually decided that I’d move with my mum. Still, despite the biggest change ever to happen in my life, I managed to avoid a return to my binge eating habit. I’m still not sure how. Perhaps now that the habit was broken it no longer had the hold over me that it once did. 

And then, around March 2018, my dad gave me £500. To this day I still have no idea why, I guess guilt. But it was so much more money than I’d ever had. The temptation not to spend any of it on food was too great. I decided to treat myself, I’d spend £100 on food and put the rest in my savings. 

By the time I finished college at the beginning of June, the entire £500 was gone, at least £450 of it spent on food. I still remember the binge I had the day after me and mum moved out of our old home and in with my grandparents, who we lived with for seven weeks before going to Yorkshire. My mental state declined still further, and I wasted most of those weeks in bed, not having the energy to do anything. I kicked myself later for not using it to spend time with the friends I was leaving behind. 

After we moved to Yorkshire in August, I spent two of the worst months of my life. My old feelings of loneliness resurfaced, not helped by the fact that one of my closest friends just stopped talking to me. I seemed to alternate between binge eating, my binges even bigger than they ever had been, and hardly eating at all. 

But, eventually, I managed to settle in. I got a job, I made new friends. I didn’t make a conscious decision to stop binge eating again, it just happened. I wasn’t lonely anymore, but my mental state didn’t seem to get any better. But, I had healthier ways of coping and I didn’t need to binge as an outlet for my feelings anymore. In September 2019, I started uni, and I finally felt like my life had a purpose. 

Now, I have more and better friends than I ever had. I’m glad I made the move to Yorkshire, where I live now is much nicer where I grew up and if I hadn’t made the move there are so many amazing people I wouldn’t have met. Most of my friends are aware of my mental health issues, although I rarely discuss them in detail. 

However, only one of my friends is aware of my eating disorder. I didn’t realise until last year that binge eating was classified as an eating disorder. I’m not quite sure why, but this discovery prompted me to finally confide in my oldest friend, Imogen. She was very supportive and understanding, and I know my other friends would be, but it’s still something where I look back and I’m like ‘woah that actually happened’. Putting it out of my mind as much as possible has been my way of coping with the fact that it did happen. I have been slightly more open online that I have irl about the fact that I had an eating disorder, but this is the first time I have discussed it this in depth with anyone. 

I’m going to say now what I wish preteen and teen me had known: you are not alone. Whether you’re suffering from an eating disorder, from mental health issues, or from something else, you are not alone. I can’t say truthfully that I have never regretted confiding in someone, but the majority of the time it has helped me, even in a small way. Please talk to someone if you have an eating disorder, be it a friend, a family member, a GP, a teacher, even me. It is nothing to be ashamed of. 

I stopped binge eating as a regular habit at the start of winter 2018. Although I relapsed a couple times last year, it’s been twelve months and counting since my last binge. 

[kyber-crystal]

I'm curious on what you could do with 15 and 8, babes! Love goes all to you

8. “Something tells me that’s not the only thing on your mind right now.” and 15. “I hope you didn’t think I was a bad kisser or anything...I did that after thinking a thousand times.”

It’s Okay to Not Be Okay - Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2k Warnings: slight angst, fluff Summary: He’s always there for you when you need him. Even when you claim you don’t, he knows better than that. A/N: i threw in a harry potter reference and now i’m sobbing yAy

As it turned out, balancing a double life as head trauma surgeon for SHIELD while handling the duties of a superhero were much tougher than you anticipated. 

Of course, you knew exactly what you would be getting yourself into when you chose to go down the medical route. You knew what you would be getting yourself into as soon as you accepted the call to join the Avengers Initiative. but what you didn’t see coming was the immense effects it all would have on your physical and mental health.  

If you were lucky, you got a few hours of on-and-off sleep in between missions before you were called to the OR to perform emergency surgeries on injured agents, or were deployed for another few missions back-to-back. So you relished in relaxing on the weekends. It was a rare occasion in which you actually got to kick back and do whatever you wanted without the pressure of saving so many people in a limited amount of time on your shoulders. 

Steve noticed something was wrong from the moment you stepped out of the elevator and lazily slid your coat off your shoulders, hastily tossing it onto the sofa and setting down your duffel bag before trudging up to your room. He knew you had a long day, though, and wanted to help you unwind after your long shift. Chances were that you and him, or Natasha, would be sent off the next day and you wouldn’t get an opportunity to rest like this for the next week or so.

He silently prepared a steaming hot cup of your favorite tea, knowing you were most likely exhausted. Sixteen-hour shifts weren’t kind at all.

You tried to hide all the pills - pills that were supposed to treat your anxiety, the nightmares, the insomnia - but you weren’t subtle enough for Steve. You claimed you were fine, but he knew better. He knew you like the back of his hand - he could read into all those little signs you gave off, a skill nobody else on the team had except him and him alone.

Every inch of your body was aching immensely - the aftermath of rushing around and standing all night without a wink of sleep. Fatigue was tugging at your eyes and if it weren’t for the tiny last bit of self-control you had left, you would’ve collapsed right there on the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly as you came back down, this time exiting the elevator in a pair of sweatpants and his black T-shirt. He smiled at the sight. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” you sighed, sitting down at the sofa and curling your knees up to your chest. He came over and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, gazing at you with genuine concern. “Fourteen-hour transplant operation and another two patching up other injured STRIKE team members.”

“From Rouen?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter over yourself. “Look, I’m fine...if that’s what you wanna ask. It’s just been a long night.”

His brow furrowed as he placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles across it. "Something tells me that’s not the only thing on your mind right now.”

“I told you, Steve, I’m fine,” you snapped, blinking rapidly to fight back tears that threatened to spill. You softened your tone as you noticed the look on his face. “Really.”

“No, you’re not,” he murmured, placing a finger beneath your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “Come on. You really think I wouldn’t be attuned to your emotions by now? Just tell me what’s going on.”

You let out a shuddering sigh, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. You shook your head. “No. Steve, I told you-”

“Don’t lie to me. I know something’s wrong. Now tell me or I’ll have Bruce force the truth out of you.” His voice was commanding yet gentle at the same time. “Please, Y/N, tell me. I’m worried about you.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, shoulders sagging. You nodded and swallowed hard, “Fine. Today..I was in the ICU. There was a patient; an orphaned little girl who’d been brought in after a hostage raid on a HYDRA base up north- Scotland, I think? Katie was her name, I think. She was admitted about a week ago. But she’d been held captive for...almost an entire year. She was severely malnourished. She was losing hair, losing weight - she looked like a skeleton. It was only recently that I had diagnosed her with leukemia, but by the time the diagnosis was made there wasn’t much time left. But no amount of sickness could get rid of her contagious energy and adorable little smile. She reminded me so much of my younger self, it hurt.”

“She was dying. Steve, she was dying and I didn’t know,” you sobbsd, “I can’t believe I didn’t- if I had found out sooner, I could’ve helped. Now it’s too late. I could see the light fading from her eyes. Katies’ grip on my hand was growing weaker by the second and I just - I didn’t want to believe what was happening. 

“She died with me by her side...a mere three minutes later. She died holding my hand. She died without a family...she died, and I couldn’t save her-”

“But she had you,” Steve whispered. “You were there for her, and I’m sure she’ll always be thankful for that.”

“I could’ve saved her!” you yelled, voice cracking. “But I couldn’t! It’s my fault she’s dead-”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t know. And you did everything you could. That’s all that matters.”

You shook your head wildly, feeling more burning tears slip down your cheeks. “I wish I could’ve spent more time with him -”

You tried to open your mouth to speak again but instead, a choked sob escaped your lips. It was like a suffocating pressure was tightly lodged against your chest and prevented you from being able to breath properly. Anything you tried to say came out in incoherent sobs and gasps - you felt so trapped, like you were stuck in a tiny little box with no way to escape. It was draining.

Steve did the only thing he knew how to do and carefully wrapped his arms around you, quickly pulling you into his chest. You slumped against him and continued to sob - burying your face within the fabric of his cotton T-shirt to further muffle the sounds of your crying. When he tightened his arms around your trembling frame you didn’t bother to writhe in his grasp and fight back. There was no fight left. You didn’t want to keep fighting. You were done with it all.

“Hey hey hey. Breathe, darling, just breathe,” he cooed, smoothing your hair back, “you hear that? Listen to my heartbeat, breathe in and out, that’s good...”

You took one shuddering inhale and exhale after the other, until slowly but steadily, the hiccups faded away and your crying eventually came to a halt. You knew you looked like an absolute mess - with puffy, red eyes and tear tracks staining your blotchy red cheeks.

But if he was being honest, none of it made you look any less stunning than you were. Despite your glossy eyes and tearstained face, you looked breathtaking to him - you always did, and always would.

And he gets so wrapped up in gazing down at you that he loses sense of the world around him, and doesn’t realize that the two of you are slowly moving closer and closer to one another until there’s essentially no space left.

Then, he kisses you.

He knows he could’ve picked a better time to do this. He knows. It was wrong of him to choose now out of all occasions - you were emotional and out of the loop. But he couldn’t help himself - he didn’t know what else to do. After months of suppressing his feelings deep down, he was sick and tired of keeping them from you.

So he went with his gut instinct - which was to simply go for it. And he did.

When his lips initially met yours you didn’t know what to do. But then, you found yourself kissing him back, your arms going around his neck and your eyes fluttering shut. He went to cup your cheeks and gently held your face in his hands for just a few more seconds but when you pulled apart, you were left with an aching feeling - wishing it would’ve lasted longer.

Then almost as soon as it started, it was over. Whatever warmth you felt was now replaced with an eerily chilly sensation that uncomfortably enveloped your body. And he felt it too. And he hated it. But he was afraid to make a second move - what if you didn’t react the same way you did as the first time?

Steve looked down at you and wiped the last of your tears from your face with his thumb and reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers together. 

...

You now have Steve’s oversized hoodie on over his shirt you were also borrowing, a mug of tea in your hands as he sat across from you at the kitchen counter. 

You silently picked at the castella set in front of you on the plate as he delicately held one of your hands in his, rubbing patterns across your palm. It was soothing, almost distracting, in a way.

A full hour of silence had passed, and frankly, Steve felt a little relieved. He’d trade your tortured cries for radio silence any day - he hated seeing you in pain. It was like receiving a direct bullet to the stomach - and he knew those things hurt like hell. 

“I’m sorry,” you wiped at your nose with your free hand, “I look gross right now. I’m sorry you had to see all...that.”

“Hey...it’s okay,” Steve reassured you. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse. You remember that day a piece of scrap metal got buried all the way into Bucky’s calf?”

You shuddered and laughed sadly at the thought. You remembered having to treat him and Wanda holding him down as he struggled not to cry out in agony. “Yeah. That was a mess.”

“And you saved him. You’ve saved so many people, Y/N. Don’t feel bad for being unable to stop something out of your control. Think about how many people are out there, alive, because of what you did,” he reminded you. “You saved Bucky, you saved Peter. You even saved me once.”

“I saved your ass multiple times, you mean,” you snorted. He cracked a grin. “Three times, to be exact.”

“You definitely did, sweetheart. And I’m sure Katie knows that. That you’re a hero.”

You felt your heart twist in your chest at the mention of her name. “I really hope so.”

“She knows. Trust me, she knows you are.”

“Thank you...” you muttered, “...you know, you didn’t have to stay awake for me. You could’ve just gone to bed.”

“Without knowing you were alright? That’s not happening, darling,” he chuckled lightly, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your forehead. “I’m gonna be here and I’m gonna wait for you, whatever it takes. I’ll always wait for you.”

“Always?”

He squeezed your hand. “Always.”

Your smile widened ever so slightly - and you felt stirring in your chest at his words. 

Steve then raised an eyebrow at you. “I know this is off-topic and all, but...I hope you didn’t think I was bad kisser or anything. I did that after thinking a thousand times. Though my timing could’ve been better-”

“No, no,” you laughed lightly, “you’re all good. You’re not a bad kisser at all.”

“I hope you wouldn’t mind if I tried again, then?” He let go of your hand, and slid his hand up to the back of your head to pull you closer. 

“Not at all.”

Your lips met, and for the briefest moment in time, you could pretend you were okay - for a moment, everything seemed like it would be okay again.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Hey! Thank you so much for writing that last thing for me! Still haven't read it lol, but I got so excited when I saw it was canon era! Could you do "Merry Christmas, motherfuckers" or maybe "well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Thank you so much, and have the best day ever!

There are cuss words in this. Hospital stay, IV, stitches, staples and surgery are also warnings in this!

“You doing okay, Racer?” Spot asked, running a hand through his hair, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Race looked up at him, a wide grin on his face, despite the pain he was in.

Christmas this year wasn’t what they had anticipated but when did things go according to plan. Race had been in excruciating pain for most of Christmas Eve into the very early hours of Christmas morning. Spot had dropped their twins off at Jack and Kat’s before bringing Race into the ER, only to discover his appendix was inflamed and close to ruptering. The only time things had gone as expected was their wedding day, three years ago. Even their twins’ birth didn’t go according to plan - getting a call just as they were supposed to jump on a plane for a quick get away before becoming dads.

Spot smirked. “You’re not wrong; at least you’re not dead, yet. You’re going to have a simple surgery and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Stupid piece of skin that doesn’t have any use for anymore.” Race glared at his appendix, or where he thought it was located. “Stupid thing that got infected on our twins first Christmas and is close to busting.”

Spot shook his head. “It’s alright. Amelia and Beau won’t know the difference if we’re there or not. They’re safe with Jack, Kat, Ellie, and Aaron and probably have much more fun than we are.”

“It’s the semantics, Spottie. I’m a horrible parent because I’m not watching them play with their new toys and discover all the joys of the day.” Race threw his head back against the pillow, sighing loudly.

Getting out of his chair, he climbed into bed with Race, pulling him so his head landed on his chest. “Don’t beat yourself up, Race. There will be plenty of time for that as they get older. They’re 9 months old . . . they would’ve been playing with the boxes anyways. I’m sure they’re sound asleep right now, not a care in the world.”

Just as he said that, his cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. Pulling open his phone, he smiled at the photo Kat had sent over. “Hey, look at this.”

Kat had sent them a photo of the twins laying on the floor sound asleep, cuddling the stuffed animals Jack and Kat had gotten for them. “See, they’re fine and they don’t care that we’re not there.”

Nodding, Race ran his finger over the phone screen, smiling slightly. “Still it’s hard.”

“I know it is but like I said, at least you’re not dead.” Spot pressed a kiss to his head. “You’re going to kick this surgery’s ass and be back on your feet in a few days. Just think, you can order me around and wait on you hand and foot.”

Race flashed him a smile. “Something to look forward to.”

Spot smiled at that as a knock sounded at the door. A nurse poked her head in with a kind smile. “Mr. Higgin-Conlon?”

“Tony, please.” He nodded as she pushed open the door.

She smiled at the pair of them as Spot slid off the bed and stood beside it, gripping Race’s hand. “Tony, then. My name is Lina and I’m going to start preparing you for surgery.”

Spot turned her out as she started asking him questions about his health and medications. Every now and then he would feel Race squeeze his hand, and he would squeeze it back. There had been plenty of trips to the hospital in the seven years they had been together but this would be the first surgery for either of them. Logically, Spot knew Race would be okay but there was a tiny piece of him that was scared shitless that something would happen and he would be alone, living a life without Race.

The nurse finished quizzing Race and told them she would be back in a few minutes to take him down to surgery. Once the door was shut, Spot turned to Race, putting his forehead to his. “I need you to listen to me for the next few minutes okay?”

“O-okay.” Race’s voice was hesitant as he had never heard that forced voice that Spot currently had before.

“I love you, I am over the moon, batshit crazy about you. You need to pull through this because if you die, I will not be able to carry on. You’re my saving grace, my wide eyed soul and you give me so much strength. I cannot live in this world without you so Anthony Racetrack Higgins-Conlon, you kick the appendix’s ass and come back to me, you hear?” Spot’s chest heaved as he spat those words out.

Race reached up, hand behind his neck, putting his lips on Spot’s. A searing kiss was shared between the two of them before Race pulled back. “I love you too, pooks and I’m going to beat this. I’ve got too much life left to live and I’ve got at least two kids to watch grow up. You can’t get rid of me that quickly, Sean. I’ll see you in a few hours, handsome, and I expect you to give me a searing kiss, like the one I just gave you.”

Chuckling, Spot pulled him back in for another kiss, this time much more gentle. “I love you, snookums and I’ll be here as soon as they tell me I can come back.”

“Love you too.”

Just as the words left Race’s mouth, the door opened and the nurse came back in. “I apologize but it’s time for us to take Tony down. You can come down with us until we hit the last door.”

As they maneuvered the gurney out of the room, Spot kept pace with them, holding onto Race’s hand, squeezing it as they walked down the hallway. “I’m sorry but this is as far as you can go. We’ll give you a few seconds.”

They walked over to the side, giving them a bit of privacy. Spot leaned over to Race, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you and I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Love you too Spottie. Don’t fret too much.” Race kissed him once more, squeezing his hand before they pushed him beyond the doors.

The doors closed behind him with a loud slam as another nurse came up and smiled weakly at him. “You can wait in the surgical waiting room if you would like. Someone will come talk to you when Tony’s out of surgery.”

He flashed her a smile before following her down the hallway to the waiting room. She motioned inside as he pushed open the door. His eyes scanned the waiting room, another couple waiting along with an older lady. He took a spot in the corner, away from the door, pulling out his cell phone. He opened the text message with Kat, letting her know that they just took Race back.

Within seconds, his phone was ringing. “Hi Kat.”

“Hi Spot. How are you?” He could hear the tiredness in her voice.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m alright. They just took him back.”

“Do you want me to come down? I could leave Jack here with the kids and come sit with you.” She offered, as he heard something in the background of her phone.

“No, no you stay with the kids. Don’t leave Jack all alone - he might kill you if you did that to him.” He chuckled. “They said the surgery would be about an hour and half so I won’t be here long. I’m going to go down to the cafe and grab something since I’m not sure how long it’ll be before Race can have any food.”

“The kids are alright. Please don’t worry about them.” Kat said. “Let me know if you need anything and I can bring it up to you.”

He smiled. “Thanks Kat. Keeping the kids is more than enough. I’ll let you know when he’s out of surgery.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t stress . . . he’ll be alright.” She said as they hung up.

He tapped his toes as his eyes swept the room. The door opened as a doctor came to talk to the couple, guiding them from the room, leaving Spot and the older lady alone in the room.

Opening his phone, he went to his photos, starting at the beginning. The album had over 1,000 photos in it, everything from photos of them on dates to their wedding to newborn photos of the twins, and every moment in between. He smiled, as he flipped through every one of them, letting himself get lost in the memories.

He stopped on a selfie of the two of them and laughed, thinking back.

“Spot, come on Spot!” Race whined, giving him a look.

Returning his look, Spot looked at his boyfriend. “Why does Kat want us to take a selfie again? And who came up with the ridiculously stupid name - selfie?”

“Uh . . .” Race rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepishly. “Kat didn’t really specifically ask for a selfie . . . I just kinda wanted one of us.”

Spot looked amused, grinning at Race. “So you use your friend to get something that you initially want? Way to go.”

“So you’ll do it?” Race’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

Spot didn’t say anything, but pulled Race closer to him allowing him to take the photo. At the last minute, Race turned and kissed Spot’s cheek as the photo was snapped.

Swiping through a couple of new photos before stopping on one that made Spot smile brightly.

Tugging on his untied tie, Race needed something to do with his hands. Spot came over and grabbed his hands, pulling him closer to him. Spot made quick work of the tie, before pushing to his toes kissing Race. “Can you believe we’re getting married?”

“No.” Race grinned. “Seems like we’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now it’s finally here.”

Spot smiled, kissing him sweetly. “I’ll be at the end of the aisle waiting for you.”

Their photographer has snuck in and snapped the photo without either of them knowing it until they got all the photos back. He glanced at it once more before locking his phone. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed out of the waiting room, walking in the direction of the elevator. Pushing himself in the back corner, he watched as others joined them on the descend.

Getting off at floor two, the scent of food hit his nose as he followed it. He leisurely walked through the cafe, looking for anything that at least sounded good. He grabbed a sandwich and a bag of chips, checking out before finding a table by a window. Collapsing into the chair, he took a bite of his sandwich before looking out the window. The falling rain captured his mood perfectly - he felt like half of him was gone, and in reality that was true. He and Race had been joint at the hip since the day they became friends, people rarely saw one without the other.

He finished half of his sandwich, opting the throw the rest away. Grabbing the bag of chips, he headed back upstairs, hoping he hadn’t missed the doctor. Slipping back into the waiting room, he looked around realizing he was the only one in there. Settling back in his chair from before, he let his head drop back against the wall. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night due to the pain Race was in. He was up, soothing Race and giving him pain medicine trying to ward off whatever was happening.

He let his eyes slide shut, sighing. He heard the door open, cracking open an eye as he saw the nurse from earlier coming closer to him. “Sean?”

Sitting up, his eyes were wide as she looked at him. “I just wanted to let you know that Tony is out of surgery and in the recovery room. He did really well and he has a couple of staples in his stomach that will dissolve within a couple of weeks. We’ll come get you soon and you can see him. Do you have any questions?”

Shaking his head, Spot let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He smiled at her, watching her walk from the room, leaving him alone once more. Pulling out his phone, he quickly texted Kat and Jack giving them both an update.

The door opened once more, the same nurse poking her head in. “Sean? I can take you back to Tony now.”

Hopping to his feet, he noticed a pep in his step as he followed her back through the winding hallways to the recovery room. Pausing at the door, the nurse gave him a look. “He was awake a few moments ago when I came to get you but he’s groggy. He may not remember a whole lot from today but in a couple of hours he should be good to go.”

“Will he be able to go home tonight?” Spot asked, hopeful at having a little piece of Christmas with the family.

She bit her lip. “Though the surgery went well, we’ll have to see how he is. The doctor is hopeful that he’ll be discharged tonight but we’ll have to see.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Tony.” Spot smiled.

“You’re welcome. Please let us know if either of you need anything.” She pushed open the door. “Also, when he fully wakes up, please press the red button on the remote on his bed - but we’ll be around in the meantime.”

He nodded, walking into the open door and heading to the only bed in the room. His eyes swept Race’s as his chest raised and lowered. Other than the IV in his arm, Spot would’ve never thought anything was wrong. Well, until he looked at his stomach and saw the white gauze taped there.

Sitting in the chair, he laced his fingers with Race’s, squeezing them gently. “Hey you. You made it through surgery with flying colors. They’re not sure if you’ll be discharged tonight . . . guess they’re going to watch you and make sure you’re alright.”

Laying his head on the bed, he relaxed for the first time since late the night before. He listened to Race’s even breath and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

Some time later, he felt something in his hair but his arm was too tired to swat it away. Groaning, he cracked open an eye, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Closing his eyes once more, he felt something in his hair. Pushing himself up, he looked over at Race, who had a big grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How are you feeling?” Spot pushed himself to his feet, pressing a kiss to Race’s forehead, before sitting on the edge of the bed..

Shrugging, Race yawned. “A little sore but mostly groggy.”

Spot reached over and pressed the red button as he smiled at Race. “The nurse said you did really well. They’re not sure if you’ll be released tonight but we’ll see.”

Yawning again, Race hummed. “Okay. You doing okay?”

“Better now that you’re awake.” He smiled.

“Sap!” Race flashed him a smile as the door was pushed open.

The nurse came in, checking over Race as Spot stood back, allowing her to pass between them. She flashed them both a smile before telling them the doctor would be in before seeing about getting Race some food.

Spot sat in the chair, sighing quietly, keeping an eye on Race. He was glad he was going to be okay but just wanted to be home with his family. It would definitely be a Christmas they wouldn’t forget for a long time.

Thanks @deliciouspeachpirate for sending this in!!!

[nattikay]

.

Just trying to sort out some thoughts, came here cuz not sure where else to do it. Might delete later.

So we’ve had Maisie for almost a week now an honestly, it’s...caused me a lot more stress than I’d expected it to. Don’t get me wrong, I like her, and I don’t plan to give her back to the shelter or anything, good gracious, no--but tbh I feel a little guilty for not being ~euphoric~ over the whole scenario, and I’m just trying to work out why.

Don’t worry she is being well taken care of! This is an emotional issue, not an ability-to-care-for issue.

I think some of it may have its roots in our old cat, Harry Pawter. We got Harry when I was around 9 years old and I loved him. However, being a child when we got him, I was never really super good at taking care of him; most of the animal care wound up falling on my parents. 

Harry, for the most part, was a pretty good cat most of his life, but he started developing health problems around his last two years or so. By this point I was in high school, and for all intents and purposes should’ve been old enough and responsible enough to step in and help take proper care of him. But by that point, I hadn’t really formed those habits and...I never really did. Not as much as I should have. And looking back...tbh I feel really bad about it, and wonder if I didn’t love him as much as I should have, or as much as I thought I did. My dad would certainly imply at much when he got frustrated with the cat, and that...kinda sunk its way into my brain, I guess.

I’ve mentioned before that we lost Harry my freshman year of college, my very first semester. But I haven’t told the whole story, because well...I feel really bad about it. But maybe it’ll be good to get it off my chest.

See, Harry’s health had been declining for a while at that point (he was now 9 years old btw). He was struggling to keep himself clean and having more and more accidents outside the litterbox. My dad took him to the vet, and the vet suspected he may have had a brain tumor. All this was happening recently after I started my first semester of college, so I wasn’t home at the time, only getting this info via phone calls. 

My dad didn’t want to pay for expensive tests and surgeries for a cat, so was considering putting him down. I was obviously not in favor of that idea, so we decided that we’d wait until I came home for Christmas and then discuss what to do about the Harry situation.

But we never got the chance. Around November, there was some sort of leak under the fridge or something (I don’t remember the details; again I wasn’t home at the time) and we had to get a lot of work done in there to fix it, which included having all the tiles completely removed and huge fans placed in the kitchen to blow away the ensuing dust. In order to keep Harry out of the way of the construction, we wound up regulating him to the screened-in back patio (and for further context: Harry had always been an indoor-only cat, and never showed much interest in going outside). Needless to say, on top of his health concerns, this construction and jarring change in environment was probably really stressful for him. One day, he found his way out of the patio...and never came back. 

We...don’t really know for sure what happened to him after that. I like to say that he passed away rather than ran away, partly because he didn’t really have great survival skills and between that and his already-present health issues, well...I don’t think he would’ve survived long as a stray, and I prefer to imagine that his suffering ended as quickly and painlessly as possible. Even if he did manage to survive for a while then, he’s almost certainly gone now, given that he’d be nearly 15 by this point...but I digress.

All that said...idk, I guess I never really got any proper closure with Harry. And the more I learn about how to properly care for a cat, especially doing all the research I’ve been doing for Maisie...well, the worse I feel for him.

It’s not that we were bad owners, per se, and we certainly weren’t malicious in any way...but man, we could’ve done so much better. Harry was definitely overfed and undergroomed and we didn’t really know how to deal with his issues later in life...again, we weren’t malicious, but I think we were ignorant. I can’t really blame myself in the early years given that I was a literal child but by the time I reached high school and the like...idk I just feel like I could have and should have done so much better. I wonder how many issues could’ve been resolved if we’d been more attentive, more vigilant. Had been willing to put in more effort than just “meh fill up his food bowl twice a day and have Dad change the litter once in a while”.

And with all that considered, well...let’s just say I have doubts as to my prowess as a cat guardian. I want to make sure what went wrong with Harry goes right with Maisie and I just...idk. It’s just been a lot more emotional pressure than I expected it to be, even more so considering I haven’t yet quite formed the emotional bond with Maisie that I felt with Harry (not that I necessarily should have expected to at this point, given that we’ve only had Maisie for less than a week whereas we had Harry for nine years). But still.

And I mean, it’s not like taking care of Maisie has been difficult from an objective standpoint. It boils down to just feeding her (and making sure it’s the right amount of food), cleaning her litterbox, and playing with her, all of which are pretty simple and straightforward (well actually trying to figure out the right amount of food for her age and size has been a bit of a chore but I digress). 

Again, it’s not the tasks themselves that are an issue...it’s, I guess, the emotional baggage, or something. Knowing that as my cat the responsibility rests squarely on my shoulders (as opposed to having Harry where my parents took up most of the tasks) probably contributes as well.

Probably doesn’t help that this was a rather sudden development as well. It was only a week ago that we even seriously entertained the possibility of getting a new cat, and now here we are. It all happened so fast, it...almost doesn’t seem real.

Then again, not much has been feeling “real” to me lately. But that’s a separate issue and one for my therapist. :P

I also, despite all objective evidence to the contrary, feel almost like I’m being a burden my bringing Maisie into the house. I know that I shouldn’t...it wasn’t even my idea. My brother made the suggestion, my mom endorsed it, my dad ultimately agreed. The whole family seems to like her, even my dad who is by far the least of a cat-person out of all of us has pet her and talked soft to her (I expected him to mostly ignore her).

But...well, ok, another (shorter) storytime. My parents, while they don’t dislike pets, have had enough of them to last their lives, especially after Harry’s troubled final years, which we kids (regrettably) did not do much to help with despite being older by then. About a year or two after we lost Harry, a family in our church was giving away a bunny for adoption after their two dogs didn’t take well to it. My sister, who has always loved bunnies, begged and begged and begged to adopt it, and after promising and promising to take care of it, my parents finally relented. Alas, the bunny did not wind up being as friendly and cuddly as my sister expected, and after a few weeks she lost interest in it, leaving the bulk of the care responsibilities to our youngest brother (who, to his credit, did pretty well...honestly he’s just pretty good with animals in general, of all types...dogs are his top preference but he’ll happily work with just about anything). Not long later, the poor bunny injured itself, and upon doing some research my parents found that bunnies rarely heal properly from that type of injury (I forget what it was exactly, again I was away in college at the time so don’t recall all the details) and that the most humane option was to put it down. We only had that bunny for a few months.

After that, my dad was (understandably) hesitant to bring another pet into the house, however hard we promise to care for it, cuz last time he relented he got burned and a poor bunny had to suffer. When he agreed to let us get a new cat, he included the (reasonable) stipulation that if it ever seems like we’re not taking proper care of kitty, he’s allowed to make the call to give her up back to the shelter.

Now, I have absolutely zero intentions of pulling a sister-and-the-bunny on Maisie, and I very much plan to take as good care of her as possible. But...you can see how there’s some emotional pressure there, yeah? ^^; 

I feel like I have to be an absolutely flawless owner else I’ve let everyone down and proven that my promises to care for her were just talk. I’m afraid people will get mad at Maisie for doing Cat Things and I’ll take the fall and it’ll be assumed I’m not taking proper care of her because I can’t train her well enough. I’m afraid any inconvenience that naturally comes from owning and animal will by default get pinned on me, that I’ll be at fault because I’m the one who technically owns her, I brought her into the house, were it not for me we wouldn’t be dealing with Animal Inconvenience. 

And yes I know that’s irrational...I know my brain is exaggerating and none of them really expect an 8 month old kitten to have flawless behavior or blame me for it and as long as I’m keeping her happy and healthy it’s fine...and yet...

I don't know.

Pressure, I guess. A big life change that happened pretty suddenly and it’s gonna take a little while for it to become the new normal...I’ve just gotta hang on until it does, I guess...

anyways...

R.I.P. Harry Pawter, 2005-2014

(last picture we ever got of him)

Maisie, I will do my best ;_;

(first picture I ever got of her...which, I am just now realizing, is similar to the last pic of Harry ;n;)

[bigskydreaming]

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

Hey everyone, so I need some help with my monthly insurance premiums again, because living continues to be pricey as hell. We’re getting close to the finish line though, I’m optimistic. I finally got on my doctor’s schedule for my next appointment - to go over the last CT scan I got done a couple weeks ago, the one to fit me for the prosthetic joint. It’s next Thursday morning, and this will be the appointment where she tests out actual prosthetics and makes the determination as to whether we go with a premade or a custom. From there, we can order whichever one we go with and expedite the preauthorization approval for my surgery with my insurance, and finally get an answer on how much of the surgery they’ll cover. It’s 25K out of pocket, so this has been the big thing I’ve been waiting on an answer on, that kinda everything else hinges on from here.

Once I do have that answer, I’ll finally set up a gofundme for everything that’s left to pay. I’ve been putting that off because I’m trying to only do one of those if at all possible, for various reasons like taxes, etc - but once I have the estimate for how much of the surgery I need to cover upfront, I’ll set one up to help out with whatever I need help with for that, and for the living expenses I’ll need for the two to three weeks I’m told to expect I’ll be bedridden through recovery, post surgery.

I know I’ve been leaning on you guys for a lot, but I wanted to show you just how much none of this would be possible without your help - 

Essentially, my expenses for the last nine months have been rent and food (which given my circumstances living out of a motel and not being able to cook/store food comes to a couple thousand a month), phone (about eighty a month), out of pocket expenses for all the consults and appointments I had before getting insurance in January, and since January, insurance ($809 a month) plus co-pays and out of pocket expenses for the stuff my insurance still doesn’t cover (since January this has been $354 for one consultation, $350 for one CT scan, $340 for one co-pay, $225 for one round of tests not covered, couple others I can’t find at the moment). That’s everything my money goes towards, pretty much the second it comes in.

Since I started doing donation posts back in December when I was about to get kicked out of the motel, you guys have donated about $2700 all in all, across the last five months. And although that sounds like a big number just from looking at it, its so much bigger than even that, when you consider that’s basically the only thing that’s enabled me to even HAVE my super-pricey insurance. I take no days off, I take every single job I can find no matter how low the rate, and even busting my ass 24/7, I’m still a thousand bucks behind on what I owe them in rent here at the motel, haven’t paid my cell phone this month yet, and have maxed out my two $300 limit credit cards, lmao - just as an example of where I’m at any given day. There is ZERO chance I would’ve been able to afford this insurance on my own, and ZERO chance that without it, I’d ever have made it this close to finally having an end to all this, and a chance at regaining my old quality of life/lack of chronic pain. Like, I was flat out told I NEEDED to get that MRI in February, not just to rule out whether or not a tumor was responsible, but to pin down the underlying causes of the joint destruction, because they weren’t going to go ahead with the surgery until they could conclusively determine whether the new joint would just erode all over again. 

(Don’t think I ever mentioned on here, but what they basically discovered was that my condyle had some time in the past been I guess....bent? a little? or just shifted just enough that over the years it was steadily getting jammed more and more up under my skull instead of flush with the joint, with it constantly eroding over the years from the friction until about a year and a half ago when it hit critical mass and had worn through enough that the remainder just snapped off, which is what caused all this. Doctors have been asking me ever since then about trauma to my face that could’ve caused it, and I kept saying I couldn’t think of anything cuz I was assuming they meant just in the last few years, but these later scans were detailed enough to zero in on the oldest stress/fracture marks on the bone and estimate an age to those initial fractures and turns out all this Drama started a good fifteen years ago. When lol the gaybashing that keeps on giving saw me taking a couple kicks to the head that I honestly never really thought all that much about after my face healed up in a few weeks, as I was always focused on the emotional aftermath of all that and never even thought about the possibility there’d been longterm damage I wasn’t aware of at the time, yaaaaay). 

ANYWAY. this is what my insurance covered from that MRI:

Like, and that’s just one step of this whole long as hell process. So I am completely, 100% serious when I say that I would not be where I’m at now without this specific insurance, and I would not be able to afford it without your help. Medicare was never going to cover these specific procedures because my specific jaw issues fall into such a weird gray area between medical and dental that they were batting it back and forth from various offices for months arguing about necessity of procedures and whose responsibility various procedures were, with my health and ability to even function steadily declining all the while. If things kept going the way they had been, before I got insurance and finally got jumpstarted on the right track, it wouldn’t be far off from now where I reached the point where I was just completely unable to function and yet still had bureaucrats telling me over the phone my needs didn’t match the threshold of medical necessity....and at least now, by the time I hit that point, I’ll have a solution in the works.

I know you guys have been seeing these posts from me a lot and so I just wanted to show something tangible as to the effect your help has had and is continuing to have. I’ll still be needing to make them for probably at least a couple months to come, but like, there is a finish line for me at least, and every time I see it, the fact that I can see it at all reminds me of how much support I’ve had to get here and I get all these Feelings and ugh they’re just the worst, but also the best, so...yeah. In summation, you continue to rock my world, and thanks.

[fortunatelycooltrash]

So people love to say that America doesn’t have free healthcare because the quality would sink and the waits would go up. Now, while those are valid worries despite being no excuse for the atrociously high prices of even minior procedures, I’d like to share some bullshit that I’ve experienced involving normal US hospitals and medical branches alike.

My root canal is going to cost 2500 dollars because it is not covered by most dental plans despite it being a completely necessary procedure that directly affects my health. Absorb that then absorb the fact this plan covers some of braces. The crown alone is costing over 1200.

I almost died in a hospital waiting room because my ‘stomach ache’ that was causing me so much pain I was sick with it wasn’t severe enough to qualify for immediate attention. Undiagnosed Appendicitis.

My nephew and sister almost met their end because an incompetent doctor misdiagnosed my sister with a URI. She had type A flu.

My cousins father had a doctor who refused to diagnose him despite him coming back constantly because of lethargy. Said he couldn’t find anything wrong. Her father was poor and had really bad insurance. Finally he went to another doctor and was diagnosed with kidney cancer. He could have lived if he had been diagnosed a year or two prior before it spead but by the time he got his diagnosis, it was too late. He died, I believe, a few months later but I was young so he might have made it a year or longer.

I suffered from chronic nosebleeds as a child to the point that blood didn’t even scare me anymore. The doctor told my mother that it was coming from wounds inside my nose and I was most likely picking at it and there was nothing medically wrong with me. My mother, knowing even as a child I knew not to waste her money, took me to another doctor. Severe Anemia. Still suffer from it too this day. Have to take those horrid tasting red pills🤢.

My aunt constantly butchering her budget because she needs her insulin and it’s cost keeps getting higher despite it remaining relatively the same. Luckily my state is looking to cap it at 100 though if that will actually go into effect isn’t determined yet.

My mom, bless her, repeatedly going in for her back aching only to be told pain was normal for someone of her weight and age. Nope, she is a nurse and turned people that were 300 pounds or more. She had completely blown her back and had a pinched nerve that was so severe she could barely stand without pain. The doctor that diagnosed her was surprised she could even walk.

My sister, having a grand mal seizure in the nurses office of a high school. They told her to stop faking. That bitch wasn’t even a real nurse so this one doesn’t count but I had to mention this because why the fuck wasn’t a registered nurse hired?

My (other) aunt having minor chest pain then suffering a heart attack in the waiting room because they had her wait so long since she didn’t seem serious. I’m sure that’s going to have lasting damage that could have been easily prevented.

My sister giving birth and getting a 28,000 dollar bill for a room and care for her and the baby. She was there for a day and a half. She didn’t even have a long or complicated delivery.

My mother being told she was completely fine to continue working despite having an off feeling about her third pregnancy(about 24 years ago) the doctor told her there were no complications and she could go on as normal. She miscarried her seven month along daughter three days later because her placenta was underneath the baby and tore. That doctor is still in practice.

The nurses in my mothers delivery room ignoring both her and the monitor. Which, if they had been looking at, clearly desplayed my older brother with his umbilical core wrapped tight around his neck. He lived because my moms main doctor walked in and had a conniption fit when he noticed the vitals dropping. He’s the doc my sis uses now. A good man.

(Same bro)My older brother turning blue everytime he cried being brushed off. Hole in his heart that has since closed.

When I was younger, I slipped in the shower and hit my head so hard against the metal lining of it(stall shower) that the skin split open and abscessed. My doc treated the abscess but did no further testing after a 4 hour wait. As we were leaving, I don’t remember much of this week my mom told me, I vomited and passed out in the parking lot. Had a concussion.

My brother being misdiagnosed with the flu, strep, and a few other things over the course of a few weeks before one doctor finally tested him for HIV. It was positive. Luckily he only had one partner. Unluckily, the partner was the one that gave it to him via cheating on him.

Me, almost dying of a violent case of strep throat because they said I had a sinus infection. My fever peaked at 104 then, blessedly, broke. I do not remember this as the memories of the days I was sick are incredibly fever burned but I remember wrapping blankets around me because I was so cold.

The strep attacked so quick and harshly that if I had lived alone it probably would have killed me since I wouldn’t have been able to get help and I would’ve kept trying to get ‘warmer’ and helped raise my temp over 106. You typically don’t come back from that one unharmed. If at all.

My older bro(cord baby) being told suffering from auditory hallucinations was a common thing(not wrong but they should have actually asked about his family history and idk, did more??) he had undiagnosed bipolar disorder. He is medicated and much happier now.

Me breaking my gotdamn pointer knuckle and the x-ray person getting blurry x-rays that she used despite the fact that they weren’t accurate. Thank you bitch, now my abnormally short pointer finger clicks because it began to set wrong.

Theres a few more but I’m currently giving my bro a hard time for texting me a text meant for his bf so imma bounce for now. May add more later. The whole point to this was to show people that don’t want free health care because the ‘quality would go down’ or the ‘wait would be too long’ that the wait is already long enough for you to die anyway and the quality already sucks ass if you’re poor because they will not diagnose you correctly.

Or They will misdiagnose you then blame YOU when you sue(happened to my mom in that miscarriage one but because he hadn’t wrote a release back to work she had no actual proof he’d told her she could.)

Or They will overcharge you for things that have a far cheaper value simply because they can and you can’t do anything about it because you need that procedure or medicine to keep your health good.

I can understand things like heart surgery or transplants, you know, the big major stuff not being free because yeah that shit takes a fuck ton of resources and care so I get it, I do. I can reasonably say “Yup that should cost thousands.” I mean, I’m don’t even avocate for fully FREE healthcare, I just want a limit on their overpricing bull shit to where it matches with economic standards.

You can’t expect someone with an average 7-4 job that pays 10/hr(oooh ya, y’all think I’d go higher? Guess what, young people starting out their careers also get sick!) to drop thousands upon thousands of dollars for whatever. The sad thing is I can say ‘whatever’ and you can actually think of multiple things that aren’t that major or that resource draining yet still cost thousands.

Even someone making 15/hour couldn’t do that and I’d be hard pressed to say even 20-25/hr could do that. They may have it better and be able to pay it off faster but they’d still be in debt for a while or have to work years after their planned retirement to make up for the lost savings if they were lucky enough to have them.

I’ve also heard people complaining about it raising taxes but you’ll spend way more getting something done at a hospital then you’d spend on those taxes in a year.

Besides, if you’re so pissed about taxes then to even it out protest the stupid taxes. Your house? Taxed. Your inheritance that you gain but also leave behind to care for your family? Taxed. Your property that you bought 100% full price paid? Taxed every year. Your car? Taxed.

How bout getting pissed about those instead of getting pissy about people getting their health fixed? There are plenty of ridiculous taxes so I don’t know why people are so against having one that actually helps people.

Sorry for this rant, I know it’s not centered around my profile theme but I am majorly pissed off that I’m about to have to let a tooth rot out of my head because my insurance decided that: covering something cosmetic like braces? Yeah! Covering a completely necessary surgery that can actually harm/kill the person via infection if left untreated? Nope, that costs us more!

I can’t drop two fucking grand on dental surgery. It’s just not happening. I don’t know anyone who can do that shit. Anyone who gets pissed off about me posting this: go slam a hammer against your tooth until it cracks down the middle, exposing your nerve to the harsh unforgiving world then let it develop a cavity around it.

Afterwards, try to eat literally anything: hot, cold, hard, soft, it doesn’t matter. You’ll cry, I promise. Now imagine being told the only way to fix that is to cough up over two grand and if you can’t well then oh fucking well? Kinda hurts ya a bit. Not nearly as much as the tooth but still.

Hell, I know dental probably wouldnt even get covered if they made healthcare reduced or free but this whole situation has reminded me just how fucked you are if you get anything remotely wrong with you in the U.S

[danaan13]

Today is my birthday. It's also been one week since a very hard decision had to be made, that changed my life very suddenly, and very painfully. The following is going under a cut. It’s also really long. My apologies to any mobile users that might get the full post anyway. Scroll really fast. I'm going to be talking about the loss of my dog. Some of it is traumatic. So warnings for injury, death, cars, insurance shit, and lots of feelings.

This post is 85% for me and 15% for anyone who's had questions since my vague posts a week ago. I have no blame or ill feelings for anyone that needs to keep scrolling. This post is going to be a lot. And I understand if one doesn't have the energy or the headspace for it. But a lot of of this is writing for my personal mourning.

One other thing: I go over events with the vet we saw. I'm not looking for different diagnoses, or different opinons, or debate, about what the vet said, or the decision we made. As I said, this post is for me to mourn. For me to record what happened. Maybe someone else would've done something differently. I don't know. We made the decision we thought was best.

And with that:

One week ago, my spouse took our dog for a walk in the evening. This was our normal routine. Newton, our dog, loved it. She was an australian shepherd mix, and naturally had all kinds of energy to work out. Even at eleven years old. It's 6 in the evening. It's pitch black out. My spouse has a bright orange, relfective rain jacket on. Newton is wearing a bright orange doggie vest, a collar that had a glowy blue led strip all the way around, and a leash with a reflective string. By our thoughts, safety was accounted for.

Their normal route took them past the shopping center that's a block and a half from our home. My spouse sees a truck sitting at a restaurant parking lot exit, as if waiting on traffic, before attempting to turn. Spouse believes they're going to continue to wait, and starts to cross the front of the exit, along the part marked as a sidewalk. Spouse is directly in front of truck, when it starts up and hits them. And pins Newton under the wheel.

The driver rolled down the passenger window to yell at my spouse. My spouse was yelling at him to move off our dog. A witness, who heard our dog screaming, from inside the restaurant, comes out and bangs on the man's driver window till he rolls it down. He finally backs off of Newton. They move her aside. My spouse was in that kind of shock where emotions shut off. They start giving orders. You call 911. You get that man's insurace. Someone get pictures. Etc.

And then the man suddenly drives away. Doesn't say a word. Doesn't leave insurance. Doesn't stay for the police. He ran.

By this point, one of the witnesses already has clear pictures of his vehicle and license plate. He's reported to the police, and they put out a call to find him.

Spouse calls me shortly after this. Call our vet. We got hit. We need to get Newton to a vet. So I call our vet. It's 6:30. They're closed for the night. But they were there for accounting stuff. They give me the number for the emergency vet. I call ahead. Tell them we'll be coming, but that I don't know what the injuries are. Just that a car was involved.

I go hop in our car. Drive a block and a half to the scene. There's two fire trucks. There's police cars. Traffic's doing that bottlenecking thing. I park and run over. Instantly get hugged by the witness who'd gotten involved. My spouse is sitting on the sidewalk. One piece. Looks okay. My dog's wrapped in sheets. She's awake. Looking around. What I could understand of her body language was a mixture of pain, but excitement because there's people paying attention to her. And oh how Newton adored every ounce of attention she could beg for.

The witness, we'll call her S now. S volunteers to come with my spouse and I to the emergency animal clinic. She sits in the back of my car while the firemen load poor newton in. Spouse comes with me, even though the firemen wanted them to go to the ER. We agree to go to the ER once we got Newton settled. S's family, two men who I presume to be husband and father, possibly, follow in their car behind us.

We get there. The vet techs wisk Newton off to the back. They need to do xrays. They need someone to stay and talk out costs. S volunteers to take Spouse to the ER. Spouse agrees to go. So I stay at the vet by myself. They settle me in a room, where I text friends updates about all this. I'm scared. And all I wanted was to hug my dog.

The vet shows up after a bit. She's very calm, very kind, and amazingly empathetic. She explains that Newton wasn't succumbing to the medicine as quickly as they'd like. She's too excited. Too many new people to meet. Gets excited every time someone comes into the room. Classic Newton. So, they only got the xrays from the one side at that time.

Her spine is fine. But a hip is shattered. There's shards. One hip is also dislocated. My heart's in my stomach. Vet explains that if it's just the one leg shattered, they can amputate. But if it's both, then it's not good. She explains that the dislocation would have to be fixed via surgery. It can't just be popped back in. She explains that our town doesn't have an orthopedic surgeon for dogs. We'd have to go to one of two major cities, two hours away. The vet then explains that she'll get better xrays, once the meds kick in and they can roll Newton over without causing her more pain. So, she draws up the treatment plan for the next twenty four hours. I leave the deposit for the cost of the care. She says she'll call me when she's got more data. And when she's talked to surgeons offices.

And then I go to the ER, trying to not cry because my dog will probably never run or jump, ever again. She's an aussie. They run. They jump. They're energetic. Newton would bounce all over the place in front of our patio door, to greet our neighbors as they walked past. She was constantly knocking down blinds from our hanging blinds there. She loved to play fetch. We've got a long hallway we'd throw tennis balls down, and she'd go chase them and run back. She'd never do any of that again.

I get to the ER. I tell my spouse. They're heartbroken. I call our auto insurance, at the nurse's request, to start that process, while we wait for the doctor to come back from the xrays. When the doctor comes, he says Spouse is fine. No breaks, fractures, or internal injuries. Might have bruising show up in a day or two. So, we're given pain medication to handle that. To note, no bruises have yet appeared, a week later. Spouse physically feels fine. Emotionally is another matter.

So, we go home. We cry. We try to settle down. It's been two and a half hours since my spouse left the house to go on that walk. I make my posts here. We make posts on Facebook. We get an outpouring of concern, love, and prayers, from friends and family alike.

By midnight, I get a call from the vet. They have the rest of the xrays. Both hips are injured. One shattered, one fractured. And then there's the dislocation. There does not appear to be any internal injury though. She'd gotten ahold of both surgical centers in the two nearby cities. Both hospitals can do surgery. But they both would require about ten thousand dollars to do it. And, they both note that Newton is eleven. She's classified as a senior dog, despite her energy and good health. She'd never be the same. Therapy after surgery might not be enough. The neat wheels some dogs get, might not be enough. There's no guarantee that her quality of life would be enough, that she wouldn't suffer.

So, I talk to my spouse. And we're breaking. She's been our family for eleven years. We call back. Make the decision, get ready, and go to the clinic. We get to hug her and pet her. We get to give her a few last good treats. We cry. And we get to hold her as she goes to sleep for the last time.

And then we go home again. We still don't know if they've arrested the driver. There isn't a report on the police website yet. We manage, somehow, to sleep. Not very well on my part. By the next morning, there's a police report. The man was arrested and charged with a hit and run.

I try to call our auto insurance back. The adjuster we were assigned to the nigh before, is out of the office for the weekend. So, I wait and then call back on Monday. We start that whole process. She starts contacting the driver's insurance. We talk to the police department and get told we can get ahold of the city prosecutor in a week. We start the process to get a lawyer.

We celebrate Christmas with our son. He doesn't live at home now. Got his own place. And a dog of his own there. He brings her over when he comes. And for a few hours, we're able to cuddle and play with a sweet dog again. It's not the same. It hurts a little. But it heals a little too.

Today is my birthday. And today I get to go pay the company that handled Newton's cremation. And pick up the clay pawprint that they made for me. Happy birthday to me. I know my Newton is no longer in pain. And that she was her beautiful smiley self, right to the last moment. I will miss her forever. But I know that we'll be okay. Eventually.

If you've read this far, and you feel the need to do something, or say something, then feel free to tag me in posts of cute dogs or cats, or other animals. Or, if you're wanting to do a more monetary action, maybe donate to organizations like the Old Friends Senior Dog Sanctuary. That's what I'm doing for my Facebook Birthday Fundraiser. You don't have to give through mine specifically. You don't even have to give to them in particular. Heck, you don't even have to tell me about it. I just appreciate that there are groups like theirs, that can provide good quality of life, to senior dogs, who have that chance.

And for anyone wondering if we're going to get another dog, we are. We put in an application at our local humane society. It might feel fast. But it's so quiet in here now. We need someone to carry Newton's torch onwards. We've looked at a few dogs already. We've not found our one, yet. But we're looking.

Thank you for reading all this. I'm sorry if this post was difficult for you in anyway. I've got a lot of mourning left to do. So for now:

Goodbye my sweet, silly girl.

Newton 2008-2019

[acklest]

Why is your husband the most Iconic and sweetest person ever?! We(I'm confidently assuming that I'm not the only one) need to know more about him.

Oh, you may regret this. 

(If you’re squeamish about blood, you might wanna proceed with caution. I promise I’m not trying to be dramatic. There’s blood in this.)

He is iconic, at least to me. And he’s probably really only “sweet” to me. Also to the cat, but he denies this. To everyone else, he’s just a quiet sort of guy with a permanently “done” look on his face.

What he planned to do from childhood was join the US Navy, because his Dad had been in the Navy. He wanted to be a technician on a submarine.

As soon as he graduated high school, he went to talk to a recruiter, and got sent to take the ASVAB. His scores on that were great and he was willing to enlist for a long hitch. The recruiter was like “it’s not even my birthday.”

But he failed the hearing part of his physical, so his status was “disqualified recommending waiver.” He didn’t know that his hearing had degenerated from type 2 (moderate) to type 3 (severe). The eval was to see if he could hear all the comms with his headset cranked up to max without hearing aids (which he hated wearing anyway). When he missed some of the cues, he was fully disqualified. 

Then he had to figure out what his second choice for the rest of his life would be. Nothing really jumped out at him. He’d never really thought about it. But his family couldn’t pay for college, so he would need a job.

His best friend got him on as a cashier working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour gas station/mini-mart. During breaks, he looked over the course catalog from the local community college. He thought maybe he could do one of those non-degree cert programs, like becoming a welder or a mechanic.

A week before, a dude who had sued that chain of gas stations for damages from a personal injury found out that he wasn’t getting a settlement. He was across the street from the one where my husband worked. I guess lawsuit dude got enraged all over again, thought “I’ll show them”, and loaded the .22 he had in his jacket before heading over. 

My husband was behind the counter, where the liquor was, thinking he was dealing with just another drunk customer at 4-fucking-AM. When he turned to ask if he needed anything else, lawsuit dude shot him in the side of the face from about six feet away. The bullet wound its way through his jawbone and he instinctively reached up to his mouth because he felt loose bits of his teeth on his tongue. (Sort of a dark in-joke, when one of us asks the other about a day that had obviously not gone well. “Bad. Not gargling-my-own-teeth bad, but not great.”)

He would’ve spun around by then to take cover behind the counter, but the sound of the gunshot stunned him because he heard it perfectly. He was born deaf/hearing-impaired, so he’d always heard things a certain way, through a certain amount of… I don’t know, static, interference, fog? But this he heard perfectly and it stunned him. 

(“If their headsets went up that high, I could’ve joined the Navy.”) 

So he didn’t turn in time to miss the second bullet, which hit him in the chest from the same range. As he turned, the third one hit him in the side of his stomach. The fourth one hit him in the thigh, nicking his femoral artery. Then his best friend showed up to tag in for his shift, heard the loud noise, ran in to help like a moron. So the last thing my husband heard before he blacked out was his best friend screaming at the guy to stop, and then a few more gunshots after that. 

If a Jeep full of hard partiers hadn’t pulled up to get gas and ran next door to call 911, he’d be dead right now. Of course, lawsuit dude was hell and gone by then.

He woke up in the hospital ten days later, heavily drugged. He tried to talk but they had done something to stabilize his jaw so he couldn’t speak. He was in and out for a couple of days after that. 

A day or so later, the thoracic surgeon sat down and told him that he’d died a couple of times, and that they tried to get the bullet out of his chest, but it had ended up less than 4cm away from his heart, so it was too high risk. They would have to leave it in. He apologized for how wide the scar was from when they opened his chest, because they had to work so quickly.  When they brought him in, he was covered in blood, all over. His hair had matted together from lying in it until the EMT people got there. One of them told him later, “We saw the booze behind the counter and assumed a bullet had hit a couple of bottles of red wine.”

Not so much. 

His best friend had died in the ambulance on the way. 

There was two years of recovery, facial reconstruction for his jaw, lots of dental work, physical therapy, follow-up procedures, and so on. There was a court trial that dragged on and on. 

It hurt when he breathed in, it hurt if he laughed. It all hurt. He’s a big dude, 5'10, shaped kinda like Wolverine (comic Wolverine, not Huge Yakman Wolverine). His health had always been good. He said he felt like he was being punished for not appreciating it enough while he had it. Up til all that, he’d been a devout Catholic, but that burned away real quick. He says that the 18 year old working at the mini-mart was a different person than the one who got wheeled out of the hospital a couple of months later. He didn’t know that guy.

He spent the next ten years on what I call a Chuck Norris tasting tour, where he was likely suicidal but not aware of it. He survived two terrible motorcycle accidents, a spectacularly failed marriage, he was thrown off a horse and hit the ground with a thud about 30 feet below, and then a drunk driver plowed into the back end of his car at top speed and he ended up ass over tea kettle in a ditch.

A few months after that, he started having terrible chest pains. He thought it was just pain from the impact with the steering wheel, which broke a couple of ribs. But when it kept going even after his ribs had healed, he went back to the hospital. The impact had shook stuff around and now the bullet was moving closer to his heart. Moving very very slowly, but yeah. So they had to open him up again to get it out.

(“Would you like to keep it?”

“…What?”

“Some people like to keep the bullet.”

“Uh. No. Thank you. I think a decade’s enough.”)

Fast forward to ‘98. I was a year or so off of a devastating event/blue screen of death thing of my own. I had a baby that I had never planned to have because I wussed out of the adoption process (I’m not saying I regret that, I’m just saying). I was on a little death-seeking tour of my own, when some mutual friends pushed us together. I do not know why. Maybe because we were the same amount of “over it.”? Maybe to take us both out of the dating pool at the same time, thereby making it safer for everyone? “You know someone who’s a walking disaster? Me too!”

The wheels almost fell off the wagon a couple of times. He told me he loved me and I didn’t talk to him for a couple of months. He sent me an instant message that said, “I am not playing Peter Gabriel outside your goddamn window. Get the fuck over this.” The age gap (22 years) made him pull away a bit there for awhile, but we didn’t need any Peter Gabriel for that shit either.

Nothing really surprises him or catches him off guard. This sort of weird Midwestern Zen thing that I don’t really understand because I’m kind of the opposite. Our communication is weird because neither one of us talks about anything that’s really bugging us, but we kind of talk around it.

I asked him to marry me a few years after we’d moved in, and he said “I don’t know, the last one didn’t go too well.” (A charming understatement.) I was cool with that. I was like… 83% cool with that. Almost a year later, while we were watching a movie, he turned to me and said, “Yeah.“ 

A YEAR later. 

“Yeah?” Like I would fucking know what he was talking about.

“I’ll marry you." 

"About time. Would you say that you were trying to decide the entire year or was it more of an on-and-off thing?”

“Oh, fuck off." 

Anyway – courthouse, Vegas, etc.

What I need you to know about him, more than anything, are these three things: 

1) When one of my family members (an uncle I didn’t know well) showed up to threaten the two of us, he quietly took that man by the arm and walked him out to the parking lot. I was watching from our doorway. I thought I was about to see him rip the guy’s head off and go bowling.

I didn’t see him make an angry face. I didn’t hear him raise his voice. It was a quiet conversation, and then that man backed away, got in his car, and left. That was 15 years ago, and I haven’t seen him or heard from him since, though I got a letter from my biological mother the week after, asking what kind of psychopath I was living with.

Still no fucking clue what he said, though.

2) His idea of asking me to move in with him back in ‘98 was to start replacing the furniture in my apartment with new furniture, but leaving that new furniture at his apartment. "Got you a new desk." 

"I have a desk.”

“Your desk isn’t gonna go with the chair.”

“What chair?”

“The chair I bought you last week.”

“You bought me a chair last week?”

“Yeah, come over and look at it.”

As near as I can tell, his plan was to slowly replace all of my furniture but keep it at his apartment and to slowly move me in a box of things at a time until I was like “Wow, all my stuff’s over there.”

3) When little kids ask him about the inch-wide scar from his collarbone all the way to his navel, with a narrower scar on top of that one from the second surgery, he tells them that he was shaving with a straight razor and suddenly sneezed really hard.

[pleasedontgethurt]

Trust your instincts

May this be a lesson for you all. Warning: long post, but this is important

As some of you know, about a year ago, I made the decision to take up on my now previous job despite I knew it could end after the fixed term was over, as it did. I was very iffy about taking up on the offer, as it meant moving to a new city and my life turning entirely upside down, leaving behind pretty much everything I knew and never looking back, and taking a huge risk of ending up worse off than I already was. I ended up taking the offer regardless. It was the hardest decision I ever made, and the countless hours I spent in regret crying in agony are proof of that. 

To this day, I find myself missing so many things from my old home. First of all, my old home itself, how cheap it was to live there, the feeling of home, the nature, the lakes, the activities related to those, the quietness, the people, the places, even the few shops, stores and restaurants I frequented (some of which that became very important to me), the memories, the simplicity of living there, and how almost everything I needed was but a short walking distance away. I miss being able to trust people, I miss how clean it was in comparison... It was also close to where my parents live, closer to where my boyfriend lives, and would now be even closer to where my brother and his family live, and was in general close to where my roots are. I’m the kind of a person that when I get attached, it’s strong and doesn’t wear out even after I know it’s over, it’s just how I am. But I couldn’t thrive there, and I knew that.

I don’t miss my old job and all the issues I had there, or not being able to travel much, I don’t miss the nonexistent job opportunities, the apartment being way too small for my needs, or not having many friends in real life. I still don’t really have any, but at least the potential is there. I don’t miss only having 5 Pokémon Go gyms and 11 Pokéstops in town, or the lack of options in terms of church, hobbies, libraries, services, you name it. I don’t miss not having many people of my age around and most people around being middle aged people and the elderly. I don’t miss the overall lack of opportunities related to anything. I don’t miss the hopelessness of it all, how the town was and still is slowly dying and withering away, or how far away everything was from there. I especially don’t miss how many years of my life I wasted in there thinking everything was hopeless and that there was no hope for anything to improve. I thought leaving would be too great of a risk to lose what little I already had, and ended up all but murdering the plans I had for my future, and for my career. How bad the place (with my former job) affected my physical and mental health overall in addition to all this is best left unmentioned. 

I ended up taking up on the offer because I knew that if I didn’t, I’d end up regretting it the rest of my life, deep inside I always knew this was something I’d need to do eventually anyway, I secretly always wanted to move here, and the way my then-current job was going, I felt I really had no choice. It was like jumping off a sinking ship. 

I had known for a long time something was wrong with my former boss / customer I was aiding in my old job, but nobody would really take me seriously. Instead, close to everything would be blamed on me. Everything from unpaid bills (she sometimes refused to sign them due to paranoid delusions) to her disagreeability to cooperate, every conflict, everything was blamed on me, when I was simply trying to hold all the threads together and make sure everything ran smoothly and according to all laws and reason, to the absolute best of my ability. It went to the point that I’d even spend some of my own money to buy her supplies if she refused to go to the store. I’d try to make her dress up in -30 degrees in winter when going out so that she wouldn’t get sick, as she insisted she didn’t need to dress up warmly, and offered to cook her anything she wanted but she insisted only eating the same thing every single day and then blamed it on me. Due to the same condition why she had ended up in a wheelchair, she was incapable of so much as dialing up a phone call that wasn’t pre-programmed in her phone, but she also didn’t understand everything she was told, which was a newer development alongside the delusions. I took care of almost all of her current affairs with the bank, the pharmacy, the health center, the town social services, the insurance company, and the accounting, especially whenever there was some kind of a mess, and as the result I’d repeatedly get told by her that I was trying to take advantage of or con her somehow. She would often insist something needed to be done in a certain way when she in reality had no idea what she was talking about, would mix two similar things together critically even if they had nothing to do with each other, and trying to clear things up would always lead into some kind of a conflict as this eventually meant I couldn’t perform my duties. I even ended up not taking sick leaves often due to there not always being someone to replace me, and just took every temper tantrum, every lie, every insult, every misunderstanding, every argument with her and her family who likewise blamed it all on me, at a huge cost to my mental health and tried my absolute best to find good solutions and do something about it, but was met with a wall after another... Nobody would really help me and tell me what I should do, I didn’t know who else to ask and anything the family told me either wouldn’t help or made everything worse. After some time, I just… got used to it. It was all my fault, I thought. I just wasn’t good enough an employee, regardless that I went way past the line of duty in fulfilling my responsibilities (and some things that should never have been my responsibility to begin with), but it felt like it was worthless and futile. Once she started to turn violent on me, I knew I had to go. It only happened like three times, but I knew I couldn’t go on, I had to leave. Something was very wrong, I could no longer handle all the bullshit, things would only be getting worse if I stayed, and I’d very likely eventually lose the job. As it turns out, my instincts had been 100% correct. 

Just as I’m writing this, about two hours ago I received a curious phone call from the daughter of my former boss in my old town. Some mess with some paperwork I was somehow supposed to know what to do with, but aside that, she mentioned something that made my heart skip a beat. My former boss had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s some time ago, and had been in a surgery for breast cancer this summer. There was no apology, nothing, but I knew this was her way of letting me know I had been right all along, and it would likely be the only closure I’d be getting. Now I finally know I really had done my best, I had done nothing so wrong to have deserved the treatment I got, and it was 100% the right decision to leave. She didn’t specify much, aside that things had gone south quick. I don’t know how much longer she has left, let alone how much longer she can still have personal assistants until she is permanently institutionalized, but that’s a one-way street. There’s no way out of this anymore. Had I waited until now, my chances of finding a new job would have been so much worse than they are now. Staying would’ve been a huge mistake.

Had known what I do now, I’d make the decision in a heartbeat. In hindsight, there was no way I could’ve been expected to stand the amount of bullshit I did. I’m hecking proud of myself for handling everything as well as I did as the situation really was hopeless, but also sad I didn’t jump ship sooner. There was no way I could’ve been able to or even be qualified to treat her anymore.

The new job was short lived as it was fixed-term, but it gave me vital job experience and lifted up my professional self-esteem, I made lots of important new contacts and have the best job opportunities in the country available to me now. If before I was applying to jobs due to lack of options, it’s now an overabundance of options. There’s more competition of each position though, 100 applicants or more per positions seems to be a pretty good average here, and I’m having a bit of a hard time choosing which jobs I should concentrate my efforts in as I’m very slow at applying jobs, and it can take up to a week or more for me to perfect an application. Nothing has turned up yet, but I’m not losing hope. I’m out of the hell I was in, and regardless of the new hardships I’ve faced, I’m still better off now than I was then.

TL;DR: trust your instincts. Sometimes things are just as bad or even worse as they seem, and giving up is not automatically a failure but may save you from even worse hardships. Don’t stay in a bad place in fear of things getting worse. Sometimes an opportunity that requires a huge step is the only or the best chance you’ll get. And even if things got worse for a while, they can still turn out for the better overall in the end.

[renegadewangs]

Ace Mindhunter - 5th Interview

Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes, Shi-Long Lang, and a rogues gallery of AA villains. Fandom: Ace Attorney Pairings: N/A. Warnings/rating: 16+, I would say. Talk of heavy themes such as death and abuse, plus cursing. Spoilers for every AA game up to Spirit of Justice, AAI2 included. Gratuitous amounts of headcanon for antagonists. Summary: Simon Blackquill is roped into a Behavioral Analysis project along with Athena Cykes. They must sit down with convicted murderers for interviews, in hopes of finding out just what drove them to their convoluted crimes.

5th Interview Alita and Ini

Date: June 18th 2028 Time: 2:31 PM Location: Interview Room. “So... Your parents were against the engagement? Why?” “Why? Why else? That silly brat was a gangster...” “I suppose that's a good reason. What did you tell them, back then?” “I told them... what every parent wants to hear. “Wocky is a good boy. He will protect me with his life.” All those sorts of things. When they still didn't approve, I chose Wocky over them.” “Even though you didn't really love him and were only in it for the money?” “What's with that judgmental look? The Kitakis could give me everything my parents couldn't. Telling me to stay away from him... Who needs a selfish family like that?” “O-Oh... Uh... Right.” If there was one thing about Alita Tiala that irked Simon, it was her air of innocence. Her fingers steepled together, she continued to grace the both of them with a smile. She would speak quietly, she would be polite, she would bat her eyes and act every bit the fallen angel that she wasn't. Getting a forthright emotion out of her was like attempting to have a fish tapdance; it simply wasn't in her nature. Worst of all, Simon had no idea what to entice her with in order to have her open up. Athena had been doing most of the talking and he, in turn, had been observing to the best of his ability. Athena took a moment to pull herself together, then moved on with newfound determination. “So when you got engaged, you resigned from the Meraktis Clinic. Was that just because you were about to marry into money, or did you also want to run from that failed surgery?” “Run? Why should I?” Alita asked, still smiling. “Meraktis was the one who'd failed. All I did was sign off on some papers. I'm hardly to blame, now am I?” “If that was how you felt about it, why did you go through so much trouble to steal the chart back?” “Because... Well, that silly brat... could be impulsive. If he found out that I knew about the bullet, he might've done something drastic... like call off the engagement. And if he didn't, his disturbing mother would've. They would've blown that whole thing out of proportion.” Athena hung her head with an expression of extreme disbelief. “Errr. Well, Ms. Tiala, some might argue that holding back such vital information about a person's health is, err, a terrible thing to do. It would've made sense to call off the wedding.” “Tee hee! Why does it matter what I did or did not tell Wocky? If he hadn't found out... he would've continued to worship the very ground I walk on. He would've been happy for the remainder of his life.” “Which would've lasted for about another year...” “And what a year it would've been. Now both our futures are ruined by this stupid little tiff that Meraktis started.” Tiala rubbed at her throat as she said it. A thin scar was visible there; evidence that just a bit over two years ago, she'd been strangled with a lamp cord. Already, Simon had formed a hypothesis on Tiala's mental state. One which would be difficult to support with true evidence. The most they could do was gather up more of her words and use those as pillars instead. “In regards to that malpracticing doctor...” he began loudly, indicating to Athena that it was time for him to take the lead. “If the court transcripts are to be believed, you pulled the trigger because he was about to expose your true nature to your fiancé. Instinct, panic, call it whatever you like. Now you sit before us, two years later. My question is as follows: Do you believe Pal Meraktis deserved to die?” “What sort of question is that?” Tiala asked, a bit of condescension showing through her pleasant exterior. Once again, she raised a hand to her throat. “He almost killed me. He believed that he did! He was about to dump my body in some gross river! Causing the death of his patients was not enough- he had to resort to attempted murder.” “You did not answer me. Do you believe that he deserved the fate you so generously bestowed upon him?” “I-I... Well... He must have! After all the things that he did...! Murderers deserve the death penalty, don't they?” Simon leaned forward, his eyes piercing Tiala's own. “You were put through a terrible ordeal, Angel. You were only looking out for everyone's best interests when you confronted Meraktis, yet he was blind to your intent and he did something unforgivable to you. That crook attempted to take your life and were it not for a guardian angel of your own, he would have succeeded. You shot him out of self-defense. Do you believe that to be an apt description of what occurred?” “Yes!” Tiala said immediately. “Yes, that's exactly it! Finally, someone who-” “It is a lie,” Simon cut across her in the bluntest of tones. “What? No... That's-” “Two years ago, your defense attorney attempted to feed the same hogwash to the court. No doubt, that was on your orders. However, the judge saw through it, as any member of the law-enforcement community ought to. Your murder of Pal Meraktis was not out of self-defense for a very simple reason. When you raised the pistol, you were no longer in any direct danger.” “What does that have to do with anything?” “It's quite simple. The moment you awoke, Meraktis was facing two witnesses who would have undoubtedly protected you. You could have simply slipped out the back of the noodle stand and told your fiancé that Meraktis had attempted to take your life. This was the truth, after all, with more than enough evidence to prove it. The young kitsune would have stood by your side, much like a samurai stands by their master, and any claim Meraktis had made from that point on would have fallen on deaf ears.” “Ah-” “The moment you shot a man unbeknownst of your presence from behind, you were not acting out of self-defense. Instead, you donned a mantle of vigilante. Do you still believe yourself to be the victim?” Tiala screamed out loud, her voice similar to the screech of a bird. “Eeeeek! How dare you! Don't you understand...? Don't you know what it's like to be all alone?!” Athena recoiled, her hand cupping Widget, and Simon sat up a bit straighter as well. It seemed as if they'd finally broken Tiala, but what lay beneath was more fierce than expected. “They would have protected me? He would have stood by my side?!” she yelled, spite radiating off her in all directions. “How can you know? No one has ever chosen my side before! All my life, I had to do everything myself! I had to do my own housework, I had to pay for my own studies... I even had to take up a nurse job with the most disgusting clinic in town! My only chance to get out of that horrid life was to marry some hoodlum, and even that was my decision! My hard work! When something needs to be done, the only person you can trust to do it is yourself!” Following that outburst, there was an eerie tension. Athena was still holding onto Widget, her fingers shielding a blue glow. As for Simon, he could taste something bitter, for he recognized this mindset. He knew what it was like to believe that he was all alone; that no one was to be trusted with the dirty work and so, he was the one to be sullied. He knew that voice that had whispered, in his darkest hours, that no one could or would save him. He also knew where those thoughts had led him. “You're wrong, Angel,” he said quietly. “Whether you like it or not, those who care about you will attempt to act in your best interest. They will drag you, kicking and screaming, out from under the burning wreckage of your tainted life. You need only be deserving of their aid.” “Deserving of their aid? Tee hee hee...” Tiala steepled her fingers together, once again back to smiling. “Isn't it a bit too late for that? If murderers deserve the death penalty, then vigilantes deserve it too, right? That's what the court's already decided. You can come in here and preach redemption all you want, but no one will be in my corner anymore. It's all over for me.” “Ms. Tiala...” Athena appeared quite distraught and Simon feared that she was taking their subject's emotions far too personally. If so, that was a habit she would have to kick as soon as possible, but now was not the time to bring it up. “I, for one, am in your corner. My partner as well, I'm certain,” Simon said, as gentle as a man like him could be. “It is for that reason that I would persuade you to see sense. It is only too easy to believe you cannot rely on anyone but yourself, shirking responsibility towards others. However, such thoughts will lead you down a dangerous, lonely path. Have you not already noticed it? The darkness in your everyday life? That heavy weight which keeps you pinned down?” Tiala's smile had faltered quite spectacularly now. She was chewing her bottom lip and wringing her hands together. “I... That's really none of your...” “You may still change your ways and live your remaining years with true company. If nothing else, I would suggest that you adopt a therapy animal through the prison's respective program.” Initially, Simon believed that his words had gotten through Tiala's hide. He believed that she understood the harm her mindset was doing to her. That he had helped to make the remainder of her life a bit easier. Such hopes were shoved aside when she leered down at him with something close to disgust. “Do you... believe me to be crazy?” she asked in a low voice. “Of course not.” “Therapy animals are for those who need therapy. You want someone delusional for your little psychology project? Go speak to Miney. This interview is over.” ------- Date: June 18th 2028 Time: 4:06 PM Location: Prison hallway. Strolling through the prison's halls, Simon felt more frustrated than he had in a long while. And to think, he'd considered reprimanding Athena for taking their subjects' emotions too personally. He was no better than her. To believe he wouldn't project his own experiences on these inmates would've been naive. His hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat and his shoulders hunched, he must've been radiating more than enough for Athena to pick up on. “Geez... What a stubborn woman...” she said. “Don't take it too hard, okay Simon? I'm sure she's been through a lot and I know that you'd want to save her, but... Some people just don't want to be saved.” “I did not wish to be saved, half a year ago. Yet, there you were, extending a hand to me all the same,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “You, Wright-dono, the Chief Prosecutor, Aura... The whole lot of you managed to divert the beliefs of a stubborn fool such as myself. Had you surrendered as easily as the two of us did just now, I would've been six feet under today.” “That's a little different... You didn't really kill anyone and I'm sure, deep down, I knew that. Aura and the Chief Prosecutor must've seen that as well. We saved you because you were innocent. But like you said, Ms. Tiala didn't even kill out of self-defense. She did it because... Because she believed she had to, I guess.” “Mmh,” was all Simon could bring himself to voice. Athena had a fair point. If Simon hoped to save a murderer such as Tiala from her own loneliness, it was a slippery slope. There were more than enough inmates who needed salvation from something or another. “But hey, can you believe the murder of Dr. Meraktis was the second case Apollo ever worked on? Pretty impressive that he managed to break Ms. Tiala in court when he was still a rookie, right?” “It certainly explains why he often appears so nervous during cross-examinations. How is the young Justice-dono doing abroad?” Simon asked, relieved to find a change in topic to cling to. “He's been so busy, he hasn't even found time to send us any letters! Can you believe that? Little Polly's all grown up and the boss of his own law offices, with his own paperwork to take care of and everything. I'll bet he misses the good old toilet scrubbing days right about now.” The inmates were in the courtyard at the moment; Simon could see them through the window as they approached the reception desk. Most of the faces were familiar, others were recent additions he'd never gotten to fraternize with on that same level. Several new cliques had formed in his absence, he noted. It was quite odd to be scheduling appointments with them through a middle man, but such was bureaucracy. They stepped up to the reception desk, which was manned by a guard they'd seen quite often since beginning their little psychology project. He shot them both a courteous smile. “How was your interview?” “About as pleasant as one would expect,” Simon replied. He supposed that they might as well follow Tiala's advice when it came to their next conversation. “Is Ini Miney available tomorrow?” The guard looked towards his computer to access the necessary information. As for Athena, she frowned Simon's way before leaning against the counter to address the guard. “No, no, it's Mimi. Mimi Miney.” “Her name is Ini.” “I was looking through the profiles Agent Lang gave us just yesterday, Simon. It said Mimi, clear as day.” “You may want to give that profile a more thorough read before tomorrow. She prefers to be called Ini and the prison's paperwork will reflect that.” “Yep, there she is. Ini Miney,” the guard said, wagging a finger towards the computer screen. “She doesn't have anything else scheduled. Another 2 PM appointment, then?” “Please.” The guard's fingers began to rap against the keyboard and Athena crossed her arms over her chest, looking thoughtful. “I could've sworn Ini was the name of her sister...” When the guard announced that it was all taken care of, Simon thanked him and turned to leave, with Athena following his lead. Then there was a sudden shout of alarm from behind them. “Oh, hold on! I almost forgot...! I was meant to give this to you!” Caught by surprise, Simon turned to face the guard again and saw that something was being lifted up onto the counter. It was a package, addressed to him of all people. Athena got to it first, holding it up with both hands and shaking it. “Oooh, someone sent you a gift! I wonder what it is!” she was saying. Simon snatched it from her grip and when she pouted at him, he stood firm. “I would advise you not to play around with it. It could very well be dangerous.” “Oh please, it went through the prison's security! I'm sure it's fine!” Athena paused, then took a step closer to the package. “But just to be sure, maybe I should listen for any suspicious ticking sounds.” “If you believe the security measures were sufficient, I will take my chances.” Explosives or other dangers aside, Simon had no idea what would've been sent to him, or why. The outside of the package contained very few clues and holding it sideways did not result in any sounds whatsoever. He set it down on the counter, ripped the tape off and opened it. As it turned out, the contents were more harmful than dynamite, in a way. Luke Atmey's autobiography. There was no doubt in his mind which of the inmates would've sent it to him. Simon had stated in Atmey's interview that he didn't have a copy, after all. “What a shame,” Atmey had said, and Simon had verbally agreed. Simply looking at the cover caused a chill to run down Simon's spine. “Did Mr. Atmey...?” Athena mumbled his side. “... Wasn't his execution scheduled for today? Maybe, if it's not too late, we can still-” “It is too late. The executions usually take place around dawn.” “Oh...” Against better judgment, Simon took hold of the book and flipped it open. There, on the blank first page, was a handwritten message. “Be it a hero of a clown, look upon this tragic figure and remember.” ------- Date: June 19th 2028 Time: 2:00 PM Location: Interview Room. There was something off about Ini Miney's face. Simon had already noticed it several years ago and now his gaze was consistently drawn to the problems. The oddest wrinkles had come into being by the corners of her mouth, as well as around her eyes. It was as if the skin didn't quite fit anymore. He supposed it was the downside of facial reconstruction and considering the alternative, Ini had made the only decision she could've. Ultimately, the creases made no difference, as she was still a fetching woman. From her curled red hair to her full lips, most men would dream of someone like her. The trouble was that like most inmates, she was difficult to deal with. When she took her seat before them, she raised her index fingers to her temples, appearing lost in thought. Her therapy animal, a rather large chameleon, was settled on her shoulder. “Ah... Good afternoon, Ms. Miney,” Athena said to her. “Like... I'm sorry, it totally feels like I'm missing something here. The guard said something about, like, an interview? And then Alita was, like, “you gotta go talk to these chumps,” except she was being totally cold about it. So... What's going on?” “You really haven't heard?” Athena looked stunned at the prospect. “We're helping Interpol with a psychology project of sorts.” “Parapsychology?” “No, uh... Real- I mean- Cognitive psychology.” “Then, like, I can't help you. I studied parapsychology.” Ini made to get up from her chair again, only to freeze when Athena cried out. “Whoah! No, hold on! Please, just hear us out, all right? We're interviewing several inmates in the prison and you were selected because you meet our criteria. We just want to ask you some questions about your life and the murder of Dr. Grey.” Ini slipped back into her seat, though she still appeared to be confused. “So, like... Why do you have Simon with you?” “I would prefer you address me as Prosecutor Blackquill,” Simon said. “But I've been, like, calling you Simon for years. You can't just... get yourself acquitted and then expect everyone to, like, forget you were one of us.” Instantly, Simon felt his entire body stiffen. Ini's words didn't sit well with him, most notably because she was speaking the truth. How could he expect them to treat him with respect after all they'd been through together? “... Fine, then. Simon. You will, however, address my esteemed partner as Ms. Cykes and if you do not, there will be consequences of a most dire sort.” “Simon... Honestly...” Athena said with half a groan of discouragement. Such a lack of gratitude wouldn't stop Simon from looking out for her best interests, though. “Like, it's fine with me,” Ini remarked. Athena set up the recording device and, following that, presented Miney with the usual statement. That much seemed to go down just fine, as everything was agreed to without even the slightest apprehension. Still, considering Miney's eagerness to leave the room, Simon expected there would be trouble soon enough. And right out the gate, there it was. “So... I hear that you prefer to be called Ini, is that right?” Athena asked. “Well, that's like... my name.” “I believe that legally, your name is still Mimi.” “Mimi is, like, totally dead.” “She was declared deceased for about a year. However, after the incident with Dr. Turner, that declaration was annulled and Ini Miney was declared deceased instead. You do still remember that, don't you?” For a brief moment, there was something close to spite in Ini's eyes. Then she bowed her head and the chameleon nearly slipped off her shoulder. “Like... Why would you bring that up? Are you totally sadistic or what? Don't you know that's, like, a painful memory?” While Simon drew the validity of that statement into question, Athena must've felt something there, as she backed off. “Oh... I'm sorry. How about we start with something simple, then? Can you tell us something about your childhood? You were raised in Los Angeles, right?” “Right. When I was a kid, we were living in, like, a little apartment near Vitamin Square.” “What was your relationship with your family like?” “Hmmm... Let's see...” Ini began to rub at her temples again. “I used to, like, really look up to my dad? But he walked out on us when I was, like, eight. After that, it was just me, my sis and my mom. We were totally like the three musketeers.” “You mean that the three of you looked out for each other?” “Ooh, that's like... totally what I meant! I got a job as soon as I could to support mom while my sis, like, did all of the chores after school. She went straight from high school to parapsychology studies like a total occult nerd.” Athena stopped writing quite abruptly. She looked towards the folder with Miney's information, then back to her notes. Simon couldn't blame her for her surprise, as he hadn't quite seen this turn of events coming either. He'd never discussed the past with Miney before and so, the discrepancy with the present had never been brought to light. “Ah... Wait. When you say your sis was studying parapsychology, do you mean... Ini?” Athena asked. “Yeah, duh. That was my sister's name.” “So you're admitting that you are actually Mimi?” “Are you, like, stupid? I told you Mimi is dead.” Miney took the chameleon off her shoulder and held it in one hand, watching it slowly traipse up her wrist. Athena had no comeback for that. Her lips parted, but not a single sound came out. As for Simon, he believed he understood the situation. Rather like passing a torch from one hand to another, Ini's identity had been left with the one who had survived the car crash. However, before receiving that proverbial torch, the Ini before them had undoubtedly been the older sister. “Even if Mimi is dead, you still hold her memories. Painful as it may be, we would like to ask you to reflect on her life in more detail. Will that be all right with you?” he asked. “I dunno... That's, like, a total bummer...” “We may attempt to make it worth your while. Perhaps you would like some additional privileges within the prison. A special meal, more access to the work rooms... Name your price.” “Naw... There's nothing that I want. But you two are, like, totally stoked to talk to Mimi, huh? Is your project really that important?” “Definitely,” Athena insisted without missing a beat. “We think that we can make a real difference. Someday, if all goes well, this sort of behavioral science will be able to prevent more tragedies like yours.” “Please. Step into Mimi Miney's shoes one last time,” Simon added. “... All right.” Miney closed her eyes for a few seconds and when next they opened, it was as if a veil had lifted. She was alert. She was there. “You said that you- Mimi got a job as soon as you could, to support your mom and your sister. Was that with the Grey surgical clinic?” Athena asked. “Of course not... Did you think that a fourteen year old could be a nurse? I got a paper route. I delivered papers before school every day.” “Oof... That must've been hard.” “It wasn't too bad. You wanna talk about hard? Try flipping patties and scrubbing floors at Burger Barn.” “You worked at Burger Barn too? Really?” “From sixteen to twenty two. That's when I graduated nursing school and got to working at the surgical clinic. It was an amazing rise in pay. I bought myself the best car ever to celebrate.” Remembering that Mimi Miney's heart went to automobiles, Simon couldn't allow this opportunity to pass him by. He cut into the conversation immediately. “What sort of car would earn itself the label of 'best car ever'? “You seriously don't know? It was a 1969 Chevrolet Camaro SS. I had her imported from the U.K. because you just can't get good old-timers in America anymore. She even had the dual four-barrel crossram intake manifold. Bright red, shiny, leather interior... I gave her a wax job by hand every week.” Ini paused, staring off into the distance. The chameleon, which had been clambering up her arm, slid back down towards her wrist. “Aaah... I miss her.” “That sounds amazing!” Athena proclaimed. “I can't wait to get a car some day! Mr. Wright will be so jealous...!” The idea of Athena behind the wheel of a car gave Simon a bit of a dizzy spell. Perhaps that day would never come. For the sake of anyone who wished to cross the street in relative safety, he certainly hoped not. “This raises the implication that at one point, you were attending nursing school, taking driving lessons and working a part-time job at a burger joint at the same time,” he said to Ini. “So? In case you hadn't noticed, a lot of people are in that same boat,” she snapped at him. “Anyway, I thought everything would get better once I got my job at the clinic. Except that it didn't.” “Really? How many hours a week were you working there?” Athena asked. “Mmmh.... Sometimes fifty five, sometimes over sixty... It was hard to keep track.” “Over sixty?! Isn't that illegal?” “Dr. Grey was too cheap to hire more nurses. He'd force us to work overtime and he'd say that if we weren't willing to invest that much time into the clinic, he'd replace us with someone who would.” “... I think that's definitely illegal...” Athena muttered, though it was unclear who she was addressing at this point. “I take it you were not one of Dr. Grey's most devoted followers?” Simon asked. “Hah. I didn't mind, at first. Overtime meant more money for my family and more money to spend on my car. Who cares if Dr. Grey was a total creep? I took the weekend shifts, I took the night shifts, I stayed a few hours longer when they needed me to... Anything to keep that salary coming.” Simon drew in a deep breath, casting a glance down at a newspaper article. “... Until the malpractice accident.” Miney cringed, recoiling. Her chameleon startled with such ferocity, its skin mimicked the monochromatic stripes of her prison garb sleeve. “You must've been exhausted when it happened,” Athena said quietly. “I was. But... that doesn't excuse anything. I messed up and people died. I was naive enough to believe that Dr. Grey would protect me. After all that hard work I'd been doing for him over the years, I was his favorite nurse. That was what I thought.” Miney hung her head and was silent for a moment. Then she looked up with a hard, spiteful stare. “But that quack doctor... He didn't take so much as a lick of responsibility for what happened. My name and face were smeared all over the news. I couldn't go outside without people calling me a murderer. Someone threw eggs at me in the supermarket. All because Grey kept issuing statements that I was a screw-up and it had nothing to do with his precious clinic's work procedures. A singular case of individual negligence, he kept saying.” Athena hesitated for a moment, then reached out to place her hand atop Miney's own. “I'm so sorry... It must've been very hard on you.” “Those were the worst two weeks of my life...” Miney said. “But Ini... Ini was there with me every day. She tried to protect me from clueless strangers. She took a hiatus from her parapsychology studies to spend time with me. I should've realized it then...” “Realized what?” “... I was putting her in danger.” Simon felt his fingernails dig into the palm of his own hand, that was how hard he was gripping his pen. By his side, Athena breathed something of a strained gasp. The chameleon, now relaxed once more, had returned to its dull brown color. “Do you still believe Dr. Grey caused that car accident?” Athena ultimately asked. “There isn't a doubt in my mind,” Miney replied with the same spiteful stare as before. “I'd barely been allowed to work those past two weeks. Being hounded by paparazzi was exhausting, but not so bad that I'd ever doze off behind the wheel. I would've parked the car by the side of the road for some fresh air before ever allowing that to happen. No, I was drugged and it could only have been him. Why else would that bastard bring a gun to a harmless spirit channeling? He knew that I knew, even in the afterlife, just why I had to die.” “Then... Is revenge the main reason why you agreed to Morgan Fey's plot to murder him and pin the blame on the spirit medium?” “I think... it's because I didn't want him to walk away with the knowledge that Mimi Miney was still alive. I didn't want anyone to know that. If it hadn't been for something as stupid as spirit channeling, no one would've. But...” There was a long pause, then a twisted grin made its way to Miney's lips. “Damn if it didn't feel good to shoot that stupid bastard in the face.” It was remarkable, really, how many of the subjects they'd spoken to believed that their victim had deserved to die. Was that the pattern, then, to the puzzle which needed solving? No, that couldn't be right. Simon made a note to gather up names of those who were genuinely remorseful. There were several of those within the prison walls, he was sure. After a few clicks of his pen, he decided to go on a tangent and ask that which had been bugging him for a while now. “It's curious... Despite your insistence that you wish to remain Ini Miney, you still have a very firm hold on Mimi's identity. Ini is not born from delusion, nor even confusion. She is born from stubborn nature, at best. Why is it that even now, all those years after being exposed and imprisoned for Mimi's crime, you would cling to the persona of Ini instead?” “Isn't that obvious?” Miney asked, her tone of voice so sharp that the chameleon once again started itself into black-and-white stripes. “It's because Mimi should've died that night. Such a useless, friendless murderer...! Ini was the one who deserved to live.” To Be Continued

[theworldaccordingtodee]

Story Time: It’s My Body (Women’s Health)

So some of my followers may remember back in 2015 when I posted about having to have surgery to remove those pesky uterine fibroids. If you don’t remember, here’s a quick recap:

•I got diagnosed with fibroids in 2014

•Fibroids are these nasty lil tumors that can grow in and on the uterus

•All women have them, but a small percentage of cases fibroids can grow abnormally large

•The options are surgery and hormone therapy

So because mine were painstakingly large and were pressing up on some major organs, I had to have surgery. Luckily, I was still covered under my parents HMO because I nor my parents had $10k to shell out.

A few weeks ago I started having the same symptoms as before, turns out I’ve got FOUR fibroids the size of golf balls growing in the muscle of my uterus. Last time I had a few small ones and one the size of a grapefruit. I’ll spare y’all the details of how messed up my lady parts were...let’s just say, I was one sad soul.

The only sure fire solution to make sure they don’t grow back is to have your uterus removed. I’ve thought about it over the years, like really, really thought about it. I mean, I love kids, I want kids, but I’m not selfish enough to keep my uterus and jeopardize any future child’s life or health or end up being infertle altogether. Mind you, I live in the DEEP south where everyone is religious, I am too, but I don’t think Jesus would be mad if I made a smart, ethical decision...I also don’t think he’d want me suffering in pain like I’ve been doing either. I mean, some days I can barely get out of bed, I can’t drive, can’t go to work (my job is straight commission based so if I don’t work, I don’t get paid).

My doctor and I talked last time and we agreed that if the fibroids got out of hand again, I’d have a hysterectomy, which I was okay with. I mean sure, it would’ve sucked not to be able to have my own kids but I can adopt, I can try freezing my eggs, use a surrogate. There’s more than one way to be a parent.

There’s just one tiny problem with this whole situation: where I live, you can’t even get your tubes tied if you’re not at least, I think the minimum age is like 21/25 and had at least two kids.

I’m 28 and have never had kids.

I went back to see my doctor Wednesday (after two weeks of feeling like I’m dying) and we talked about my options. We both agreed that it would be a waste to have to do surgery every few years when they’ll just keep coming back, I could take a round of lupron, but after taking it six months to a year could potentially send me into menopause, which...no thank you! Then, there was birth control. My periods have always sucked; I got put on birth control pills in like sixth or seventh grade and stayed on it until high school but got back on it at like 21/22. It didn’t work for me it just, didn’t. My periods are just plain old whack. But anywho, my doctor and I talked and I decided I’d try an IUD. I go for the insertion Thursday. Thankfully, my insurance covered the procedure 100%, thanks Obamacare. I chose the IUD for several reasons:

1. I still wanna have kids someday

2. I didn’t want to do a round of lupron and risk going into early menopause

3. I wasn’t sure if my Obamacare would be as generous as my parents insurance and cover the entire cost

4. As much as I’ve joked about “throwing my damn uterus across a wall” and how childbirth is gross and disgusting, getting rid of my uterus was a pretty big decision I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Thankfully, my doctor didn’t push that option, she let me know it was on the table if I wanted it and that studies show that women who have their tubes tied or a hysterectomy after age 27 are 65 percent less likely to have regret. She gave me choices and options and listened to me and my concerns.

The biggest reason I chose not to have a hysterectomy is because well, I wasn’t sure if I could even have the procedure done, especially with Alabama having some of the strictest restrictions on women’s health. I feel like while I personally wouldn’t have an abortion, I think women should have the right to do what they think is best for their body. What if I was one hundred percent sure I didn’t want kids? My state cares more about my ability to carry children I may not even have more than my quality of life. If I’m curled up in bed, unable to drive and unable to work every couple of years because my fibroids keep coming back, who’s gonna take care of these hypothetical kids? What good am I to a child or to society if I can’t take care of myself? What kind of parent would I be if I got pregnant and my fibroids came back? I’d be putting a child at risk of dying in utero or being born prematurely. That’s not what a parent does; to me, that’s selfish AF and while I’m still on the fence about kids, I would NEVER want to harm a child for my own selfish needs.

So here I am, still in pain, having to spend money I don’t really have for tramadol and this medication I have to take before my IUD insertion. I’ve been to work once since the Monday BEFORE Labor Day-again, I work a straight commission job, which means I haven’t had a paycheck in WEEKS. I shouldn’t have to live like this because genetically I as a Black woman am at a higher risk for fibroids on top of the fact that I started my period young and because my mother had fibroids too. But most of all, I shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not my state will allow me to have a procedure to improve my quality of life, all because I haven’t had two kids yet.

Anywho, that’s my story; it’s been in my heart to share it with you guys for a couple of days now. And to any woman living with this type of pain or any other problem similar to this, I see you, I hear you, and you’re not alone sis.

[not-your-damsel]

Um, I’ve just let something fully sink in and I’m finding myself getting angrier and angrier the more I think about it.

I just got off of FaceTime with my little sister. She called me having just gotten home, to tell me that she’s being induced for labor tomorrow. This is her second child, and with her having Lupus, she’s high risk. I was there for the birth of my niece 2 years ago, especially since there wasn’t a little one to worry about anywhere else. But I knew that this time around would be different because of the fact my niece needs to be taken care of and with Covid still a thing along with her lapdog variants, no one is dumb enough to bring her to a hospital for her little brother to be born.

My sister was crying and she was essentially telling me she loves me, and that if anything happens to her or the baby to please take care of my niece as though she were my own, as if that was ever going to be out of the question because I would already die and kill for her as if I did birth her myself. There’s just zero question on the topic. We shed some tears, and I was in the middle of just having finished cooking, on top of having my door being knocked on because my medicines from my local pharmacy were also being delivered at the same time so what she confessed next didn’t fully sink in initially.

“I wasn’t going to tell you that I was going to be induced this week, let alone tomorrow. I texted you that it was happening next week but that was a lie.”

Me - 🤨 “Wait what?” 🤔

“We were worried about stressing you to the point that you’d end up in the hospital, so we weren’t gonna tell you.”

Me - That would’ve sucked if something serious were to happen to you and my nephew. I never would’ve been able to see or speak to you.

“That’s why I’m telling you now, in case something happens to me or us.”

😦

Now that the convo is over, the more I think about this, I’m really floored. This isn’t the first time that I’ve been left in the dark about her health during this pregnancy. Or how sometimes I find out after the fuckin’ fact that our mother (who also has Lupus) was in the hospital and no one thought to tell me about it knowing I would want to check in on her or my sister.

So now I’m thinking, how in the hell would this have been handled had she stayed lying to me? Would I have found out about my nephew the next time I went to the house? Or would I find out after she birthed him? Even worse, that I receive a call from our mom, informing me of the loss of my little sister or my little sister and nephew? Or would the beans have spilled when I need to accompany our mom and my niece to the supermarket so I can stay in the car with her so she’s not exposed to people? Would my mom have told me then? And that’s another thing, the fact that our mom was going along with this!

I’ve been on the phone with mom so very much these last 5 days because my booster shot site itself reacted so terribly, I couldn’t even lift my arm, and my pharmacy made a mistake in where I was without my pain medication for 5 days. Anyone on chronic pain medication knows how dangerous it is to just stop taking them since you risk seizures, as well as starting to go through withdrawals, which was/is happening to me currently. Thank goodness they came today so I’m combating that awful feeling right now.

FAside from all that, they know how angry I get when I’m kept out of shit as important as health. I’m not looking to be informed about everything, they’re grown ass adults, but when my family is going to the hospital and not telling me when anything can happen? Especially since I’m the poster child for anything can happen by going in for one thing and on day 3 of my stay, I’m having a fuckin’ stroke and a brain bleed, being told I’m gonna need brain surgery. There’s 2 hours of my life back when that happened in 2020 that are still to this day unaccounted for. The only reason I know something is amiss to begin with is because the next time I went back, I had people hugging me, telling me “You’re alright?!”, “You had us very scared there while we were waiting for the ambulance to transport you to an even better facility.” and I don’t recognize those people at all. I didn’t know I had a team around my bed, my blood was being taken, nothing. I still appreciate them all just the same - with my life.

But shit, TELL ME!!! I’m owed at least that fuckin’ much! I’d expect more from them on this knowing how many unfair times they’ve been thrown for a nerve wracking loop on if I’m gonna live through one of my episodes or not. If this was the other way around, my family would be so angry with me if I kept from them the times I have to go in the hospital, knowing that it’s a very real possibility that it’s the last time they see/speak to me. We’ve been through too much shit to be playing with visits to the hospital as though it’s a trip to a motel with free WiFi and drugs 🙄. This shit actually hurt me and it takes a lot to hurt me nowadays.

🌩 When it’s time to check out, that’s it. We don’t get a free phone call in the afterlife to phone our loved ones on the fact that we’ve passed. Please don’t do this to your loved ones.

[leoandnemmie-blog]

hi! i love your account ^^ i was wondering if i could group reacting to an MC who has health conditions (like i have a heart condition) that makes her weak or unable to do a lot of physical activities? i would just love to see how they would react to her.

I remember you! You sent me a match up like… A month ago? And if memory serves correctly, I paired you with Jumin! You sound awesome. I hope your heart condition isn’t too bad…

I did RFA separately and a group one including RFA and Minor Trio, the group one will be under the cut.

No, hun. You don’t love my account, I love you. ;D It was D E S T I N Y. How does this make sense, wtf Leo.

OK… I’m sorry, I’ll write now… ^^;; ~Leo

Yoosung Kim:

You were diagnosed with arthritis when you were a child, Oligo-articular JIA to be specific.

You thought you were going to get better in a few years but you were one of the unlucky people who had it for a long time.

You didn’t feel the need to mention it to Yoosung because it never came up.

Besides, it barely affected you at this point. You always managed to get through the day.

But this one was different…

You were walking home with Yoosung and your legs were hurting quite a bit.

You were lagging behind a bit so Yoosung asked you if something was wrong and you simply brushed it off as you being tired.

He then bought up the childish concept of having a race to a nearby tree in attempt to make you less tired somehow.

Not wanting to let him down, you accepted.

You were ahead of him but halfway through you felt the pain in your leg and it was unbearable.

You yelped out in pain and Yoosung stopped, crouching down to see what had happened.

He was confused for a moment before you explained that nothing had really happened. You told him about your arthritis and how you were getting surgery next month for it.

He helps you out before your surgery a lot, even to the point when it’s sometimes unbearable.

He’s still a bit overprotective after the surgery.

But you know he means well.

Zen / Hyun Ryu:

You had been suffering from back pains from time to time over the past 2 weeks.

You had been diagnosed with sciatica when you went to physiotherapist.

You didn’t feel the need to tell Zen because they told you that it would be over in a less than a year and not to worry too much.

This one time you were watching one of Zen’s musicals and when you stood up to clap, you felt a sharp pain run down your back and you immediately sat back down.

You quickly register the concern on his face and he steps of stage and asks you what’s going on.

“She’s pregnant, isn’t she? Not that far along from the looks of it… Maybe she’s one of those people who have a small bump. Anyways, it’s probably just a contraction, don’t worry too much Zen.” Someone from the audience spoke loudly.

“Jagiya, w-what?” His face was fixed in an expression of surprise

“Zen, I’m not pregnant.”

You told him you’d explain on the way home and when you were feeling a bit better you were both on your way.

After you told him he face palmed and began apologising since he wasn’t there for you.

But you tell him it’s OK, you didn’t tell him which made it your fault.

He sorts out an exercise routine with you physiotherapist and makes sure that you get better quicker.

Thanks to him, your recovery is completed 2 months earlier than expected.

Jaehee Kang:

Come on, let’s be real here. She’s the one who had an idea of what was going on before you did.

Symptoms of high blood pressure are practically unnoticeable Like me

You were amazed when she suspects it though.

She forces you to go take a blood test and it turns out she was right.

Immediately begins taking MUCH more care of your health.

She makes sure that your food isn’t too salty.

Gets rid of most of the alcohol in the house.

Begins to make you herbal tea instead of coffee because caffeine is not good for you right now!

If you smoke, she’ll gradually get you to quit.

She won’t make you go cold turkey out of nowhere though.

Also makes you sleep a lot more. 

Ty mama Jaehee.

She’ll get you to exercise with her, will even invite Zen to exercise with the two of you sometimes.

She’s also on top of your medication, not in that way, she knows exactly what time to give you which set of pills and whether or not you’ve taken them if she isn’t around.

She’s so glad when your health begins to improve.

She honestly doesn’t know what she’d do without you.

Jumin Han:

You noticed around 2 months ago that your heartbeat would skyrocket out of nowhere sometimes.

You would get dizzy sometimes and you didn’t know why.

Jumin would ask you if you were alright and you would just tell him you were dehydrated or tired.

You got Jaehee to book you a doctors appointment, you didn’t tell Jumin because you thought that it was something minor and not something he should be concerned with.

He was even more concerned when Jaehee told him instead of you.

Would’ve got driver Kim to drive him to the hospital if he didn’t have so much work.

The second he walks into the penthouse the two of you share, he demands answers.

You murmur out that you were diagnosed with atrial fibrillation.

He doesn’t quite know what that is, so you tell him that it’s a form of arrhythmia.

All signs of anger leave his face as he wraps his arms around you and offers words of consolation.

He tells you that no matter what he’ll love you and it’s true.

Will keep up to date with your medication.

Makes someone keep track of whether or not you take them.

Will do and does do anything in his power to make you feel healthy again.

Anything for you.

707 / Luciel / Saeyoung:

You were diagnosed with hypoglycemia.

You went to the doctor’s a week ago and somehow Saeran had gotten wind of it and mentioned it to his twin in a conversation since he presumed that he knew.

Lol. No.

Immediately hacks your medical records. Do not try this at home kids

You’re honestly not surprised, he was bound to have found out one day, you just hoped it wouldn’t have been this way.

You tried explaining but he simply raised up a finger to silence you.

For a moment you were scared that there was gonna be an argument.

But he just tells you that it’s gonna be alright, that he’s there for you and that no matter what he’ll always love you.

He comes to your appointments unless something comes up. Even if he is forced to wait outside he waits. 

Always gets the right medication for you and remembers what time to give it to you.

Heck, he even managed to make a cat robot tell you when it’s time to take your medicine again.

He’d do anything and everything to make you better again.

Group:

The entire RFA was holding a fundraiser.

All of you had to run at least 100m.

You thought you could manage that but apparently not.

You had damaged a part of your cuneiform a few weeks ago and the doctor told you it would take at least 4 months to heal.

They also told you that you shouldn’t walk too much, forget running.

When the race began you were fine.

But 50m in you felt too much pain in your foot and practically screamed in pain as you fell down.

The race promptly stopped and in a flash V was in front of you, asking if you were alright.

You nod your head but the Jaehee steps out of the crowd, asking if anyone nearby was a medic.

Seven pushed his glasses up and asked Vanderwood to come forth.

Vanderwood groaned as he came forward, claiming to only know a bit of first aid.

More than enough for this though.

He gets Yoosung to grab a first aid kit and Jumin skillfully calls an ambulance.

You can also see Zen try to calm everyone down and progress with the event alongside Jaehee.

It wasn’t really going great since Saeran kept yelling...

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GUYS DO TO MC!?”

V attempted to calm him down.

Oops. Wrong guy for the job.

It takes Seven promising to get him some ice cream for him to calm down a little.

Once you’re at the hospital you get told that you need to stay there for a day minimum.

Everyone visits you, including Vanderwood at some point claiming that Seven forced him go.

Lol. We know he did it out of the goodness of his heart.

Yoosung comes along with Zen and you end up playing board games with them and they tell you about their days.

Jumin also comes, most of the time for short visits, and tells you what the doctor told him and what his new ideas for C&R are. He’ll ask you for your opinions too and tries to get your mind off of the pain.

V comes and shows you some of his new photographs, he gets you a drawing pad and some pencils so that you can draw.

Jaehee tells you little tips about how to keep yourself better.

Even after you’re let out of the hospital, they’ll constantly ask you how your doing and visit more often.

Honestly, with their help you became better so much quicker than you thought you would’ve.

[deadinsidedressage]

What do you want to compain about the most?

Okay welcome to my thing I wanted to complain about and be a little petty about (a lot?):(Wait okay so disclaimer I just started finishing this $35 bottle of wine and now I feel all woooo)So, I’ve periodically referenced the fact that my trainer during a good portion of my life turned out to be an opioid addict (which made a lot of things make sense tbh) but like, being a drug addict wasn’t the only dumb shit she did. She had bought this draft/wb cross and the mare ended up being a psychopath but was really athletic and she really liked how she went--- she just wasn’t a fan of almost dying. She decided that the best idea then was to of course breed this mare because “pregnancy evens out a mare’s temperament” and bred her to some stallion ( I don’t know who ). After the foal (Saier) was born, Hera (mare) got all sorts of fucked up from birth complications I don’t recall the extent of and eventually ended up dying. I think it was after Saier was weaned but honestly I don’t remember because this happened over 10 years ago. Anyway, by the time Saier was 2-3 my trainer (WHOSE NAME I ALMOST TYPED OMFG LOL) ended up getting all fucked up with some medical stuff. She had a weird thing with her esophagus that she had to have surgery for and then I think she also had to have something done with her lady organs... anyway initially Saier not being started was on account of [redacted]’s health issues and everyone was always like “Oh well, she won’t be finished growing until she’s 5 or 6 anyway and she’s so big that giving her more time to grow will be good!”Right well, after having her various surgeries [redacted] ended up being an opioid addict (which she hid pretty well tbh) and so basically by the time I left her/fully cut her out of my life, Sair was 9 or 10? 9 or 10 and not started aside from a few attempts of sitting on her & getting walk but like you know... nothing else. Anyway, it was a shame because she was actually like a really handsome horse. She wasn’t anything super spectacular but she was like a really nice big boned horse and would’ve been a nice hunt horse and would’ve easily been a prelim eventer. Maybe she’d have gone past 2nd level in dressage but like who knows. She is still like a nicely built horse just like not any like blaring god given talent that makes you think “oh yeah this horse is guaranteed to make it to this level”, etc.RIGHT SO. Pause on Saier; just remember that she has never been properly started under saddle. Like 8 years ago, Cavalia came through my state and one of my USPC friends ended up getting a job with them while they were here which turned into them asking her if she wanted to join them on tour as a groom which then turned into her working for them for 8 years. She started as a groom, was the stable coordinator at one point (king of all the grooms & in charge of all horses when in stables), and then after starting vet tech school online and then continuing at physical colleges on their break periods she also became a vet tech for them. When she joined she had ideas of granduer that she’d somehow end up being on of the riders... which never happened and she did get to warm-up horses for the show and she did briefly get one of the dressage riders to give her lessons but that didn’t last long at all. Her most regular stint with getting a performer to give her lessons was one of the trick riders.Anyway, she entered as someone who could ride First and half-ass Second and ended up leaving oh shit basically the same??Right anyway, she actually made a lot of friends with the right people and was able to get Cavalia to give her two horses. One who actually came back before she did (like 2 years before she did) because it was a retired trick horse ((so one of the QHs)), and the other one was actually a PRE stallion who she just developed such a good bond with that like years before he would ever be retired (they retire the greys early because they are looking for specific colors) they signed a contract that would give him to her when he left. So basically, that is kind of cool? Now he’s a stallion but he’s not a stallion because he SHOULD be a stallion... he’s a stallion because they keep a bunch of their horses as stallions solely so they develop a cresty neck. OKAY ANYWAY. This person has been back from Cavalia for like a year? Little over? REGARDLESS, she’s now suddenly decided that she should um... be a horse professional. APPARENTLY, specifically someone who breeds horses... So remember Saier? SO she is breeding Saier to the PRE shouldn’t-have-balls stallion. She has an appointment to like collect the semen and shit but alsoshe has the turned out together to see if... that happens... AND LIKE the whole thing is just stupid as fuck because like the mare isn’t nice enough to breed and especially not to that stallion and even if the stallion or the mare were nicer she’s still making a weird fucking cross based on the just like how both horses are “supposed” to look and like i don’t like it i’m not into it. PLUS LIKE if you’re going to be the dumbass who breeds your horses for personal use then realize that like... you’re gonna have that horse for 25 years because you cannot guarantee there’s a market for it. ALSOOOO, keeping and promoting a stallion is super fucking hard so why would you decide to like own a breeding stallion when you can’t even show him well because you’re not riding at a high enough level. ALSO ALSO what spurred this need to bitch is that she shared video of her and this horse in a lesson recently and I was like super underwhelmed because she rides like a fucking 15 year old pony club kid who just got their c1 lol. And she’s training with an eventing trainer? with her PRE? who theoretically has pi/pa on him (fucking hollow as fuck tho) and who is supposed to be a dressage horse????/ Like fuck man lemme judge everyone stupid decisions.