it makes me sick stop

my least favorite thing is where I don’t intentionally procrastinate and instead just suddenly find out that I totally didn’t do the thing and it is now too late

I hate that thing

Grumpy Chat

This started out as one of those “I see no difference” deals.  I can’t help myself, guys.  I have NO SHAME.

Saw this and had to rotoscope

saying “ichigo should get with his own species.”

is like saying Isshin x Masaki was a mistake, and thus ichigo and his sisters are a huge mistake.

not to mention this “argument” is pretty shallow.

ICU suffering

Thanks for the nice replies to my last post about burnout. <3

The ICU is a rough place. I did not go to med school in order to learn how to torture patients. That’s mostly what I feel like I’m doing by keeping these terminally, hopelessly ill people on ventilators and feeding them with tubes and sticking them with needles every morning to monitor their electrolytes that I’m fucking up with all of the meds and fluids…I’m torturing people who are too sick to make me stop. It is agonizing. 

I’m doing it, in every case, because patients’ family members insist. I blame our culture, which does not prepare us for death and discourages us from having “morbid” conversations with our families about our wishes. I blame our medical-legal system, which makes docs feel like we have to document that we’ve done everything a family asks for, whether or not it’s ethical, whether or not it’s futile. I blame doctors for perpetuating a system where we are not clear about our limitations, and offer and do and spend more rather than making difficult recommendations as forcefully as we should. And yeah, sometimes I blame the family members themselves for being selfish and ridiculous, though of course I would never tell them so. 

My victories in the ICU are almost always about winning the right to do less rather than more. I’m proud of every new DNR/DNI. I feel relieved when filling out death certificates. I hope that most of my patients die, and swiftly. I watch their monitors and try to will their vital signs to collapse. I beg their fragile bodies to give up, to let go, to quit in spite of the cruel “care” that I so unwillingly provide. And I talk, and talk, and talk to their families, with all of the patience and love and compassion that I can muster, in the hopes that they will have mercy on their loved ones, and thereby also have mercy on me. 

scramblingminds  asked:

It disgusts me when customers lick and smack their lips while I'm taking care of them. It is literally right in my ear and it makes me physically sick. I just want to scream STOP when people do that, I'm sorry but especially when it's older folks. I always rush through their transactions before I can no longer repress my gag reflex. Am I the only one who is bothered by this?

Ankh niggas!

Your fake ass definition of a queen (see ; a black women who appears to meet their fuck ass standards) needs to go!

Why do y'all refuse to see black women as multifaceted , diverse and wholesome people ? To you they are either “evil ho’s” working in secret coalition with the white man to “emasculate” the black man or they are melanated ,ethereal black queens with a de calcified pineal gland who only twerk for their king in his chambers and doesn’t allow the white man to convince her that menstruating is natural🙄

Like stfu and stop being so un educated.

I am literally getting motion sick while sitting still. I keep swinging up to unconsciousness and giving it a high five before struggling away. When I cough, my lungs make this terrible sticky rattle, and my head HURTS and I HATE THIS. I just want to go back to work and be not sick anymore

something everyone needs to get into their heads:

- westallen is NOT incest
- not all snowbarry shippers are racist
- iris west and caitlin snow are not jealous of each other
- iris west and caitlin snow do NOT hate each other
- iris west and caitlin snow need way more scenes together

I’m so nauseous

The Beetles Don't Live in the Static- Voidtrip AU

Based on @electricmindart voidtrip AU which I adore. Here is some quick angst for you all. Slight Caddimoose
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I stand in the freezing bathroom,my hands running over the scars and cuts that mask my skin. I had another trip last night… And they were there again. I shake as the heating broke ages ago and I’m wearing just my underwear right now. The feeling of the blood running down my body like rain from various cuts I’d done to myself last night. I had to scratch them off,I really did. The bruise on my scalp throbs like an alarm and I stay still. I know what’s about to happen. I know what is about to happen.

I’m thrown into a trip,the overwhelming static lights and noises make me feel sick. I want it to stop. I want it to stop. I feel my legs buckle and I must of whacked my head on the sink as the headache increases like someone driving a burning hot pin into my skull. Then I hear it getting louder. The clicking. They are coming. The beetles are coming. They crawl up my skin; biting and cutting me. I dig my nails into my legs and pull them out. I scratch and scratch and scratch at my legs. I feel myself falling and more beetles grab onto me. The neon static visions get brighter and the noises get louder and  worse. I feel myself land with a thud and everything goes black.


“Caddy?” I slowly open my eyes to find myself on the floor where Ian is. About 25 seconds later,Ian appears and hugs me. “Jesus! You’re hurt. Was it the beetles again?” I feel my mind go fuzzy and my brain hurt but I just nod. Tears fall down Ian’s back and he just wipes them away. “Well… you’re here now. Everything is gonna be OK. I’ll find something to cover you up. You’ll get sick standing in just your underwear. He sits me down in the armchair and gets a old T-shirt and trousers and hands them to me. I put them on slowly,trying not to make me cuts hurt any more than they do. Ian drapes a blanket over my shoulder and clean the fresh wounds.


He pulls me back into a hug and I crumple into his arms. I know that a trip won’t happen here. He reads some of the letters he gets from the printer while he strokes me,careful around where he knows it hurts. He doesn’t deserve me. I must waste so much of his time and I mess everything up. I end up bursting back into tears and I hear Ian’s voice go sad. “Oh Caddy. Please don’t cry.” He pulls me closer and wipes my eyes. “Beetles don’t like the void. Or the static the TV makes. You’re here with me and I promise you won’t get hurt”


“Ian?”

“Hmm”

“Why do you let me stay? You are just my imagination!”

“I’m not. I’m real. Just because I only live here doesn’t mean I don’t exist.”

“Will you ever leave me?”

“No. Caddy. I never will”