life of a teenage diabetic
  • me: I need a drink
  • mom: what's ur bloodsugar
  • me: I need to pee
  • mom: what's ur bloodsugar
  • me: I'm hungry is there food?
  • mom: what's ur bloodsugar???
  • me: it's kinda hot
  • mom: what's ur bloodsuGAR
  • me: sleeping
  • mom: *wakes me up* WHATS UR DANG BLOODSUGAR
To the People Who Make Diabetes Jokes:

I hope you realize that it’s not sugar and “diabeetus.”

I hope you realize it’s waking up at 3AM, shaking and dizzy and using all of your energy to find your blood sugar kit, and then more to find something to treat the low.

I hope you realize that it’s little black bumps on your fingertips from countless blood sugar checks.

I hope you realize that it’s scarring on your stomach, arms, and legs from injections and insulin pump sites.

I hope you realize it’s not being able to just eat anything when your friends do without worrying about a major blood sugar spike.

I hope you realize it’s getting unwanted attention in school when you do a blood sugar check or one of your devices beeps.

I hope you realize that it’s trying to stay in the best shape possible, and still hearing all of the fat and eating jokes.

I hope you realize that we’ve been hearing these jokes all our lives, and we’re going to be hearing them until the end.

I hope you realize that these jokes aren’t cool or funny.

I hope you realize that using our struggle as the punchline to your jokes makes you look like an ass.

Really? Really. No ... really?

True story: 

Scene: me at the imaging center for my 3-moth CT scan (I also have cancer) - getting an IV put in by the tech - we’re discussing needles and blood draws:

me: Yeah… I’ve been diabetic for 35 years now, since I was 3, so I guess I’m kinda used to the needles.

tech: Well, at least it’s not AIDS. At least it’s manageable.

Here’s the thing.  I’m never looking for sympathy - that’s not my thing, does me no good, don’t want it.   But for the love of whatever god(s) you believe in - STOP MINIMIZING DIABETES.   It’s lethal, it’s progressive (not in a society is evolving kind of way either , but in a it gets worse and worse the longer you have it kind of way)…. it’s a lot of things.  Easy isn’t one of them.    Insignificant isn’t one of them.   SELF-INFLICTED ISN’T ONE OF THEM.     

I know I’ll never get this message out there.  But to those reading (because I know you’re all diabetics or love a diabetic … let’s be honest, we’re the only ones who care)  - I have mad respect for all of you (all of US).   We are all warriors.   When people say to me “God only gives you what he knows you can handle….” I think to myself, that’s a comforting notion, but honestly it’s more like - you adapt and learn to deal with it … or die.   So - take credit for that shit. You’re a badass, and I salute you. 


Paradise Lost || Lara x Oberon

The morning had begun with a long lazy fuck, since she had come in after he had gone to sleep. It was one of those mornings where she could actually sleep in the same bed with him without building a wall of pillows between them to keep him from accidentally rolling into her in the night. So he’d woken atop her and started nibbling on her ear, till she moaned and they had buried themselves in the sheets for awhile with kisses…and other things until he rolled off her, promising her coffee and hot croissants from the bakery around the corner.

She’d had precisely enough time to make the bed and freshen up before he was back looking smug. It was an odd rotation of lovers they had, but they had made it work. It was nice for this very brief window of time to pretend that either of them could be domestic. As if Netflix and takeout was easy or normal for them. She’d had him take an apartment nearby. She couldn’t spend all her time there, but for one brief moment it was nice to have a steady lover, a source of support and comfort.

Lara could see the weariness in Oberon lifting little by little the safer she was, the happier Robin was, the nearer the children were, the safer he felt they all were and Lara felt a little bad about that. She knew she’d given him a false Utopia, that every single name on that list knew what happened next, but the Utopia was the only gift she could give him before she shattered it.

It had gotten so bad that she had a section in his closet. She had a toothbrush. They had domestic fights over stupid little things that the other one did. Like he played annoying music straight through important phone calls. Or that she compulsively organized things wherever she was until he couldn’t find anything.

Today though was a quiet day…the calm before the storm…so in the fall afternoon light she had laid him out on a soft blanket and dragged him down into the soft fur-like substance with her, then grabbed a bag she had brought with her. There were all kinds of intimate things to do with a lover, but one of the slowest and most patient that Lara rarely got to do was Henna. So she’d straddled his hips while he lay face down in the blanket and the tv played and begun the painstaking art from the top of his shoulder down into the middle of his back.

“You know I love you, right?” she said eventually, as she traced the curve of a flower. “That I will always love you. No matter what happens. I know I fought you for a long time about it. But I need you to know that now. To know it in your bones, so deeply that you always trust it.”



For a long while now, there exists a specific tag the derpiboo.ru image boards titled julian yeo is trying to murder us”. It groups all the heart-wrenching work I do with MLPFIM in one convenient category.

A quick google search reveals only one other similar tag by way of “beavernator is trying to murder us”, but I’m guess I’m pretty proud of having such a specific tag to call my own and having such fans of my work.

Anyway, here’s a bunch of my favourite diabeetus artwork from that category.