eye balloon


🎉 Day 🎉
🔦 Night 🔦

in Five Nights At Freddy’s 2

so I had an idea for this aesthetic but since it’s day vs night it’s technically a sequel to @mosstronic ‘s day vs night aesthetic ! go check it out it’s super good aaa
and btw this is okay to tag as kin/id :0

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

Sometimes, life will give you lemons, and you just have to look life in the eye and take a bite out of the lemon. No peeling, no cutting. Maintain eye contact. Chew the lemon. Do not show emotion. Life becomes distressed. What are you doing, it will say. Don’t answer. Continue chewing on the lemon. The peel is getting stuck in your mouth, but you keep chewing. The taste is bitter but you do not show it. For all life knows the lemon isn’t even bitter at all. Keep chewing. Swallow. Hand the lemon back. Walk away. Next time, life gives you an orange. But you are ready. Stare, bite, chew, swallow. Life grows frustrated. It tries again. Grapefruit, this time, just to see you try. But your poker face is immaculate, even as your jaws strain to leave their mark on the skin. Stare, bite, chew, swallow. Life makes an effort now, an effort to understand what it is you seek. Why you keep returning to this game, why you keep on winning even as you lose. Life looks into your eyes. Looks into them like it always could but never did. You stare at life, and life stares back. Life gives you chocolates. Finally, you smile. Life is confused. Stare. Life understands what. Bite. But life doesn’t understand why. Chew. Life will understand soon enough. Swallow. Your throat, lungs constrict. Chew. Breathing becomes labored. Bite. Your face reddens, balloons as the allergens destroy you from the inside out. Stare. Your eyes balloon shut as the allergens ravage your body. This is it. You have won. You open your eyes, inflated no more. Death stands before you. Death gives you lemons.

i just watched hei briskeby’s video..

here is the things that i like 

  • MIKAEL ✔️✔️ ✔️✔️

things that i didn’t like..






anonymous asked:

can you do one with all the mm ppl (not just rfa) where mc is a magician/does magic tricks and maybe tricks them sometimes yanks ilyyy

We weren’t sure who you meant by all the MM people, so we did RFA, Saeran, V, and Vanderwood. Hope you like them! 


  • After the ordeal with Echo Girl and then the hacker, you and Zen were pretty down
  • Deciding to cheer him up, you grab some things from your bag
  • You start doing the cups and balls trick on his counter
  • At first, he’s just watching silently
  • But by the third time that the ball disappeared from the middle and appeared on the bottom, he went crazy
  • “MC! How are you doing that!”
  • You of course don’t reveal your secrets
  • But, he’s an entertainer too, so he knows one or two tricks from some workshops
  • You stay up late in the kitchen making each other laugh with different tricks
  • You also record some videos and send them to the RFA to make everyone’s night


  • Yoosung was a bit wary when you told him you were a magician
  • He got pranked enough by 707, he didn’t need it from you
  • But you liked him, so you stuck to the more fascinating tricks
  • He loves watching you perform
  • He’s like a cute little child as he claps for you, even when it’s just the two of you
  • One day you showed him the trick where you passed the red light from one finger to the other
  • Poor boy tried to come up with every explanation possible
  • Finally, you broke down and showed him what you did
  • You knew he felt horrible whenever people called him gullible or naive, so you showed him most of your tricks
  • It’s part of the reason he’s not so gullible later on
  • Also, whenever Seven tries to prank him, Yoosung knows a few things to get him back
  • You actually become the perfect duo in that sense


  • You thought she might find a bit dry and boring, so you never showed her any tricks
  • One day, you two had invited a few friends over for dinner and cards
  • You had your own handy deck (on purpose) so you could show off a little
  • Jaehee was so wide-eyed and laughing every time you guessed someone’s card
  • When the night was over, she asked you to show her a few more
  • When you offered to show her how they were done, she refused
  • She never had much of a childhood and everything was so strict in her life
  • She enjoyed thinking that some people could actually perform magic
  • And it was befitting that you were the person giving her that right now
  • You started performing random tricks every day now
  • When you noticed she was having a particularly bad day, you sat her down in the living room and performed a bunch of magic tricks just for her


  • It was yet another RFA meeting
  • You could tell Jumin had a hard day at work since he retreated in the corner while everyone else was just playing around and chatting
  • You join him and engage in some small talk
  • Seeing that he was a bit down, you show him the Pen through a Bill trick
  • At first, he’s disinterested in the pen that you seemed to have poked through the paper
  • But his eyes lit up when you moved the pen back and forth without tearing the dollar
  • “How did you do that? I didn’t see this in a black magic book.”
  • You don’t explain your trick, but he keeps trying to figure it out
  • Before he can turn to Google, you start showing him more tricks
  • He’s so fascinated by it and his eyes just sparkle watching you
  • The next time you meet, he gives you a proud smile and does the disappearing coin trick
  • Why was he so cute


  • He knows a few tricks himself
  • Literally just to mess with Yoosung
  • So, he thinks he can probably guess the tricks behind your magic show
  • He does…for some of the simple ones
  • Just as he’s getting full of himself, you do the Scotch and Soda Coin trick
  • When it’s finished, he’s just gaping at the copper coin that changed into an American half-dollar
  • He asks you to show him more, but you refuse to give him any of your secrets
  • He tries to squeeze them out of you, sometimes by performing tricks himself badly
  • Eventually he gives up
  • But he’s always down to be your assistant in any magic show
  • He’s always teasing you about “sawing people in half” for a living…until he unwittingly finds himself as your assistant
  • He’s scared as heck the first time, even if you’re the one doing it
  • After that, though, he constantly wants to show off
  • “MC, cut me in half at the next RFA party! But I’ll add fake blood so it looks like a disaster.”
  • Seven, noooo


  • He didn’t think you were actually legit at first
  • Then you casually joined him in the kitchen one day and “grabbed” a cookie from the container
  • You took a bite in front of him and then took it out of your mouth and placed it back on the cookie
  • He blinked a few times at the whole cookie
  • “What the heck…” you heard him mutter
  • You find him watching you a lot more when you practice or show some off to the RFA
  • He gets super devoted to trying to find out your schemes
  • He’ll bring out a random deck of cards
  • “Find the one I’m thinking of.”
  • “That’s not how it works, Saeran.”
  • It becomes a game for you two
  • You’ll randomly do a magic trick or he’ll try to force you to do one at random times


  • He’s a bit sad that he can’t see your magic tricks
  • But he still comes out to all your shows
  • And he’ll be your assistant if you desperately need one
  • If he gets his eye surgery, he wants to spend a whole day where you just show him everything you got


  • He did not like loud noises
  • And he could be a little OCD at times
  • So, you thought of the BEST trick to put him at edge
  • The needle through the balloon trick
  • When you first began, he started protesting and covering his ears
  • When the needle kept going through balloon, his eyes grew wide
  • It was usually difficult to make Vanderwood fall into an awed silence
  • So you were taking in the look on his face
  • But when the needle had gone completely through the balloon without popping, he kept complaining that it was so unsatisfying and why would you do that to him and bla bla bla
  • To get him back, you bring out a few plain balloons and keep popping them in front of him
  • He gets so mad at you, but he likes you too much to leave you

Check out our other headcanons~ Masterlist

HANKER - Poly!YoonMin

Word count: 7,674.
Summery: It looked like you loved him. And worse, it looked like he loved you. Jimin took a shaky breath before he clicked his phone shut, rubbing his hands on his thighs as he got ready to get up. There’s nowhere left to hide from this anymore.
Genre:  Idolverse.

Min Yoongi of Bangtan Sonyondan was caught on a date with his mysterious girlfriend!

Jimin’s heart fluttered in his chest, before it got so heavy he thought it might have turned into stone. An uncomfortable feeling sank in his stomach and his thumb froze hovering above the illuminated screen of his phone. He wanted to scroll down farther and look at the pictures, analyze every angle of Yoongi’s face to see if he looked happier with you then he looked when he was with him.

He tilted his head back, wincing when it hit the wall a little harsher then he intended it to. He looked up at the ceiling even if he couldn’t actually see it through the dark clouds in his head.

Yoongi really was dating you.

Jimin’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip before he shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head as an automatic reaction his body had for the feelings that rose inside of him.

He knew it’ll be this way, ever since he and Yoongi broke off whatever romantic relationship they had between them. Yoongi had a point when he called it off – a few actually, when he asked Jimin to be whole with what they had. He wanted Jimin to come out to both of their parents about them. He wanted to stop hiding from everyone, and Jimin knew how his mind worked, he knew it’ll come out at some point.

The growingly tense situation finally blew out when Jimin and Yoongi went to Daegu to visit Yoongi’s parents. Jimin kept feeling so self-conscious from how badly he wanted Yoongi’s parents to like him. It was the first time they’ve seen them since they started their thing and he was going half insane with the amount of responsibility he felt was on his shoulders. Jimin honestly barely noticed that he swatted Yoongi’s hands away whenever they reached out to touch him, stepped away from him when he was close and barely looked at him when he praised him to his parents’ ears.

Yoongi noticed though, every single time it happened. He noticed and it ate him up inside, so much that by the time they had to leave, he told Jimin they need to sit down to have a serious conversation.

Yoongi went through so much with his parents, and he reached the part of his life where he’s sure they’ll accept him no matter what. No matter what side of himself he’ll bring forward, they’ll embrace it.

He wanted them to embrace Jimin.

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