sick childhood

Chloe will now have  backup other than Sabrina when she’s dishing it out against people.

I like to imagine they combine bee puns with their insults

Open letter to sick kids and disabled kids.

Dear sick kids, dear disabled kids,

You may be facing a lot of adults who want to believe that your therapy is fun. You may feel differently. You may not be having fun. That’s ok. You’re not failing. You don’t owe it to anyone to enjoy the things that are happening to you.  

Even if you think the therapy is important, you might not think it’s fun. You don’t have to think that it’s fun. Your feelings are yours, and your feelings matter. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. No one has the right to insist that you think something is fun.

If you don’t think the therapy is a good idea, you have the right to have that opinion. Your parents or other adults may be able to decide what treatments you get. They don’t get to decide what you think, or how you feel. They can’t make things fun by loudly insisting that they are fun, or by making you smile.

It’s ok not to think that your breathing treatments are a fun game. Even if your mask is fish shaped. Even if you put frog stickers on it. Even if you had a lot of fun picking out the stickers. Even if you know that you need it in order to breathe properly. Push come to shove, it’s still a breathing treatment. You are under no obligation to enjoy it. If you’re not having fun, then it’s not fun. Even if people make you smile.

It’s ok if you don’t think a purple hospital gown means that the hospital is fun. Even if you love purple. Even if you put your favorite sparkly heart stickers on it.   Even if you want the operation or procedure you’re having, you don’t have to think that what you’re doing is fun. Even if the volunteers and play therapists are really nice. You’re still in the hospital, and it’s ok to feel however you feel about it.

It’s ok to dislike the tracing exercises your occupational therapist makes you do. Even if she says that they’re really fun and that she loved them when she was your age. It’s ok to think of it as work rather than fun. It’s also ok to think it’s a waste of your time. You are not her, and it’s not ok for her to tell you how to feel. She is not the boss of your feelings, or your likes and dislikes. You are under no obligation to have fun.

It’s ok to dislike singing silly songs with your speech therapist. Even if he tells you in an excited voice all about the great new conversation starter iPad app, it’s ok not to think it’s fun. Even if other kids seem to like it. Even if there are fun prizes for cooperating and smiling. Even if people frown when you don’t seem happy enough. You don’t have to think anything is fun. Your feelings are yours. You don’t owe it to him to like the activities you do, even if he expects it from you.

It’s ok to dislike the sensory diet an occupational therapist puts you on. You don’t have to like being brushed.You don’t have to like weights or weighted blankets.You don’t have to believe that squeezing a fidget toy is better than rocking, and you don’t have to think that chewing a tube makes the lighting and noise any less painful. Your feelings are real. If you like something, that matters, whether or not anyone else thinks it’s important. If something hurts, your pain is real whether or not anyone acknowledges it.

And so on. If you’re sick, or you’re disabled, or you’re both, there are probably a lot of things happening to you that aren’t happening to other kids. It’s ok to have whatever feelings you have about that, even if others desperately want to believe that you think all of it is really fun. It’s ok for you to think that something isn’t fun, even when adults speak in enthusiastic voices, put stickers on things, use fun toys, or whatever else.

It’s ok to think something is fun, and it’s ok to think it’s really not fun. It’s also ok to find something helpful without finding it fun. You have the right to like what you like, and dislike waht you dislike. Your feelings are your own, even if you have to smile to get people to leave you alone. 

It’s ok to like things, and it’s ok to dislike things. You are a real person, your feelings are yours, and your feelings matter. Illness, disability, and youth don’t make you any less real.

Childhood colds

Dizzy and spaced out
Dozing in and out of sleep on the couch
Stuffy sore nose with a box of tissues and someone to care for you
Achy, heavy body and head
Hot and heavy eyes
Sneezes, coughs, and pitiful groans
The certain smell of sickness
No school excitement
VHS Disney Tapes one after another
Cold washcloths on your forehead
Time seems to slow
Walking around draped in a blankie
Heavy, shuffling feet
Grape cough syrup and the plastic spoon it had with it
Falling asleep on the couch and waking up tucked into bed

Am I the only one who has noticed how shocked and worried Ciel has been from the Campania arc and after when he sees the Undertaker?

To think of it, he surely has known the Undertaker longer than Sebastian and probably trusted UT more than his very own butler. He has definitely grown up with the idea of the Undertaker being that goofy old funeral parlor that just wants to have a good time and would always help. His father definitely thought UT as a friend, so Ciel followed his father’s mindset.

Hell, maybe even since Ciel was sick in his childhood, the Undertaker would always come and keep him company.

Everytime somebody is talking about him, he’s all ears. That might explain why he wants to know the reasons behind his actions. He still trusts him.

Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me! Get off of me!

Over the past year I’ve been figuring out my sexuality. I’ve told a handful of people about it and was finally ready to try to come out to a few friends and maybe even family members. Then Orlando happened and I think I retreated back into the closet so fast I slammed the door on my fingers. I’m scared and angry and sad. But then through all those emotions I saw Mara Wilson come out and I thought “If an actress I’ve looked up to my whole life can come out during this horrible time for our community, why can’t I?”

So I want to take a baby step today and come out to you all.

My name is Emily. I am bisexual. I will not let other people’s hatred keep me from being who I am. And I will be here for all of you who need someone.

Day 138

When I was barely seven I wanted to “play” with a syringe on my younger sibling.

My father took me to an other room.
He made me put the needle in my leg.
It hurt and there was a lot of blood.
He bandaged the small wound. He did not use any comforting words nor did he apologize, but he told me that it would have hurt worse for my younger sibling.

Afterwards we continued to play as if nothing had happened.
Next time we went to a doctor I hid myself, fought and cried.

My mother promised me a book and I let the doctor take a blood sample.

(-confession/lie 70)

tummytiny  asked:

Any characters, A has a birthday party and eats WAAAAY too much cake, and when Sibling B and best friend C insisted they all go into the bouncy house, A loses his lunch, B calls an adult, C is trying not to be sick as well

I chose Saeyoung and Saeran and took a little bit of liberty with the prompt

*Mild MM spoilers for Seven’s rout*

I actually did have a lot of fun writing this one so happy birthday to me 🎉


Someone in their school invited Saeyoung’s whole class to their birthday party.

Saeyoung convinces their mother to let him and him go, telling her that it would look suspicious if they were the only kids in their class who didn’t show up. And he also convinces her to let him bring Saeran, saying she wouldn’t have to watch him or feed him for a whole day.

Their mother drops them off and speeds away, leaving a cloud of dust in the road.

Saeyoung is eager and excited but Saeran is acting nervous. “None of the kids at school like me. They all think I’m a freak!” He let his head fall, gently resting his chin on his chest with a sigh.

“Thats just because they don’t know you!” Saeyoung starts pushing his younger brother towards the door, trying to rip the bandaid off. “Besides, they said there would be a bouncy house!”

He knocks on the door, grabbbing Saeran by the shoulders as he tries to walk away.

They are let in by a woman who doesn’t seem to care for formalities and quickly scurries away to help with the party.

“I’m in.” Saeyoung touches his ear, miming as though he has a phone in it. “No one seems suspicious. I’ll keep you updated. Over.”

Saeran crosses his arms and pouts. “This is why people think I’m a freak.”

Saeyoung let his shoulders fall and smiled, taking his brother’s hand. “Come on. We’re here to blend in. We might as well enjoy ourselves right?”

Saeran considers the possibility, seeming hesitant, but he follows his brother as leads him into the next room.

Both of their eyes light up when they witness all the lavish food laid out on tables. There’s Korean food, American food, and Chinese food on one table, and on another, sweets galore.

“Where should we start?”


The two of them munch on food like they haven’t eaten in weeks, and some of the parents notice, and start whispering to each other.

Saeyoung notices the attention they’re getting and stops his brother just as he’s about to take his third slice of pizza. “We’re being too conspicuous. We need to blend in more.” He cautioned.

“What does consp-spic-icuous-” Saeran tries to repeat the word hopelessly, and Saeyoung covers his mouth.

“Shh. It means we’re being too noticeable.” He said, scanning around at the guests faces with a paranoid level of caution.

Saeran falls quiet and Saeyoung sees some kids playing video games. “Look!” He grabs his brother’s arm and drags him towards it. “Can we try?” He asks one of the kids.

“Sure, you can play winner.” The kid says, without looking away from the screen.

When Saeyoung is handed the controller he smiles with wide eyes. “How do you play?” He asks, and he gets some strange looks.

“You just press the buttons, you know?” One of the kids demonstrates for him once.

“Oh! Okay!” Saeyoung is more than excited, and he sits down to play.

Fives rounds later, everyone groans as Saeyoung wins another match.

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to play?” One kid pouts angrily.

“I didn’t.” Saeyoung says honestly.

“Give someone else a try!” One kid complains.

“O-okay.” Saeyoung isn’t sure why the others are ganging up on him.

Once he gives up his controller to someone else, he looks around for his brother and has a moment of panic when he can’t find him.

“Saeran!” He shouts, spinning around, he can feel his heart pounding. He can’t remember having felt this scared in a long time.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a head of red hair, and sprints up to him.

Without thinking, he grabs Saeran by the arm and pulls on him, making his shout.

“Ouch! Saeyoung, that hurts!” He cries.

The room gets quieter and heads turn to look at them. Saeyoung releases his arm and the chatter starts to pick up again.

“Don’t you ever do that again. You scared the shit out me!”

Saeran flinchs when he curses and Saeyoung instantly regrets it.

“You- said there would be a bouncy house.” Saeran says solemnly.

Saeyoung remembers that there was supposed to be, and looks outside for one. Just as he does, a truck pulls up and he sees two men lifting a big box with a picture of a bouncy house on it.

His face lights up and he points to it, but before they have a chance to reveal it to the others, someone starts shouting that there is cake.

“Cake!” Both brothers can feel their mouths watering just at the word and run over with the crowd.

They are both awe struck when they see that there are six different kinds of cakes laid out before them.

Once the candles are blown out, Saeyoung and Saeran dig into pieces of cake and are the first of all the other kids to get seconds.

Saeran is happily sitting and eating his second helping of cake, when Saeyoung sits beside him and he notices that Saeyoung has four slices of cake piled on his plate.

Seeran’s eyes widen. “How did you get that!”

Saeyoung shushes him with his fork. “Shh! It’s a secret.” He says, stuffing a huge bite of cake in his mouth.

After enjoying every last bite of their cake, the same woman who had opened the door for them, came in with an announcement.

“Okay kids, sorry for the delay but the bouncy house is officially set up!”

All the kids cheer and pile outside to get their turn in the bouncy house.

Just before Saeran runs out with Saeyoung, he happens to hear two parents talking to each other.

“Wouldn’t it have been better to have them play in the bouncy house before they ate? I don’t want my Kim getting sick.” One of them says.

“You saw how flustered the mother was, apparently the bouncy house arrived terribly late.” The other replies.

“Saeyoung.” Saeran grabs him by the arm and holds him back. “Don’t you think we’re a bit old for bouncy houses?” He says quietly.

Saeyoung is in disbelief. “We’ve never been in a bouncy house! Come on, this is our chance!”

Saeyoung drags him to the line and they wait anxiously.

As they stand in line waiting for their turn, Saeyoung’s enthusiasm starts noticeably declining. By the time they are close to the front, Saeran can see that Saeyoung is swallowing nervously and seems a bit uncomfortable.

“We don’t have to go in you know.” Saeran pushes.

“No!” Saeyoung clutches his fists in anger. “This might be our only chance.”

Saeran suddenly looks like he might cry, before they’re are told they are next in line.

Saeyoung takes off his glasses and leaves them with his shoes. And the two of them go inside.

It’s way bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside, and their jaws drop in awe as they marvel at it.

Two other children crawl in to make a total of four and they all bounce around laughing.

Saeran can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun and Saeyoung is just glad to be able to spend time with his brother.

It’s only after about forty five seconds of jumping up and down that Saeyoung suddenly starts to feel nauseous. He had already noticed the exorbitant amount of cake and his party food sloshing around in his stomach, but it didn’t seem like too much of a problem until then.

Saeran only notices because he sees Saeyoung’s expression. It’s not so much that his complexion is off, but that he isn’t smiling, and he knows that Saeyoung always takes every opportunity life gives him to smile.

Another thirty seconds go by and Saeyoung’s expression still doesn’t change. “Saeyo-” Saeran begins to say, but before he finishes Saeyoung is already bolting out the entrance.

The kids stop jumping in response and Saeran runs out to follow his brother.

Once he’s outside, he looks around and sees Saeyoung running towards a wall of hedges. He follows, and is shocked when he sees Saeyoung stop and bend forward.

He runs faster and when he reaches Saeyoung, his eyes widen in horror as he watches his brother vomit his guts up all over the lawn.

“It’s okay Saeran- I’m okay. I promise.” Saeyoung tries with all his might to put on a brave face for his brother, knowing that he is traumatized to have to see him like this again. But his body is punishing him for treating it so abusively and it forces another gag out of him and a burp forces another stream of semi digested food out of his mouth. He coughs in frustration and wipes tears from his eyes.

“I promise! I’m okay!” He looks up at his brother to see him turning white as a sheet covering his face it’s his hands.

Saeyoung wipes vomit off his lips with the back of his hand and comes closer to his brother but Saeran backs away, shaking his head like his brother is a zombie.

Then Searan spins around and bows forward, clutching his stomach with one arm and coving his face with one hand.

He shuts his eyes tightly, trying not to think, but he can’t get it out of his head.

He gags, but nothing happens, them he feels hands on his back. Seayoung begins stroking his back in small circles and humming softly.

He was humming their favorite song that his brother knew always calmed him down. Tears streamed down his face, but he managed to slow his breathing as Saeyoung continued to hum.

Some adults ran up to them, most of them concerned and a few angry.

“I’m calling your mother!” The mother of the birthday boy said angrily.

Saeyoung knew that was a bad idea, so he insisted that they would leave if she didn’t call.

The two of them walked home together holding hands and humming their favorite song.

Young woman with elephantiasis, 1877 -  At a time when infant mortality and childhood infectious diseases were far more common than today, this girl contracted diphtheria and scarlet fever at age 5. By age 17 she had developed elephantiasis documented here. The childhood sickness had infected her body’s lymphatic system and closed the lymph vessels at the top of her legs, causing the fats usually transported by that system to stay put, swell, and harden. Five days after this photograph was taken, the girl died of complications from the infection at New York’s Bellevue Hospital

Ellie, this one was always my favorite when I was a kid. And now I’ve seen one, its the most beautiful thing I ever saw.

I am an immigrant. I was born in my grandmothers house in Sinaloa, Mexico. Her home was hidden in the mountains and its paradise. I was one year old when my mother dressed me in boys clothes in hopes I would not be targeted. Another women held me as my mother sat a few seats ahead. I cried for her while we crossed the border. She couldn’t turn her back and give away her disguise as a 15 year old teen. I ask my mother what if that women took me and she said she prayed that she wouldn’t and that’s when God became a figure in her life. The first few years in the U.S. we lived in a cramped studio apartment and I spent them sick. My childhood was sheltered from the fact that I was undocumented. She never let it be known that she lived in fear of being deported. My mother did everything in her power to make sure I never felt out of place. I went to school, I learned English, I made American friends. All in the while my Mexican identity was the food I ate and the novellas we watched. The fact that I spent hours in line and nights at the consulate never phased me. I became a resident when I was in the 7th and I joked that it took years to get my green card because the government didn’t like me. I didn’t realize the severity of my joke until I took Chicano studies. I became a citizen at 16 years old. It took my mother 16 years of struggle, of work, of learning a language that looked down on her for her to become an American Citizen. It only took a couple hundred dollars and a few hours in line for me to become a citizen. Ive never felt at home in Mexico or in America. Ni soy de aqui o de alla. I’m not from here or from there. But my mother, she is my home, she is my Mexico, she is my America.


I decided to talk to my abusive mom about how to improve our relationship and convince her not to treat me like shit, well, I was right, it was a bad idea.

Main parts:

  • Me: Stop do this to me!
    Mom: Well, that’s life, what can I do?

  • Me: Gifts are great, yeah, but this is not so important, I also need support emotionally, I need you to care about me and respect me, my words, who I am, to listen to me.
    Mom: Now you get nothing.

  • Me: *telling my mom that I don’t like what she does with me and I want the best attitude.*
    My brother: Oooooooooooooooo how dare you talk like that to our mom, you bitch, I’ll kill you, I’ll throw things in your room (and he did, he was throwing things.)

  • My brother:*thinks I’m miserable, sick and retarded from childhood and treats me like garbage*
    Mom: Maybe you two have a bad relationship, but you have to respect your brother.
    Me: WTF he literally hates me and I have to respect him????

  • I cried and my head hurts, I’m tired.

okay can we talk abou how Murphy,

“beaten from day one, probably even beaten long before day one, tortured by grounders, beaten some more, tortured again” John Murphy

has no scars at all?

that boys whole face was bashed in more than once,

he was TORTURED by the grounders, how do you think they did it without leaving a mark? did they just tickle him for three days straight before ripping his nails out? no knifes or swords or fire used at all?

how come he is physically unaffected by all of that?

also how come that Murphy who had a bad childhood, his sickness, father dying for trying to safe him, his mom blaming him for his fathers death and becoming an alcoholic that was probably not only verbally but also physically abusive; and was betrayed by the people he trusted, his friends, Bellamy who he looked up to, who just strung him up like he was worth nothing and then forgave Charlotte for murdering someone, who was banned, mistrusted, and hated

how come that he isn’t mentally fucked up?

okay, true, he hates himself and has trust issues and has accepted that his life is made up from pain and hate and envy

but he can still function



Sparks Fly

For SoMa week this year I decided to do something where all the prompts fall under one AU. So if the beginning seems a little confusing, it’ll all make sense as the week progresses. I also have a partner in crime for this event. eisschirmchen did a cute piece of Soul and Maka getting ready, and you can see who they’re cosplaying as

Special thanks to fabulousanima and dragons4ever for looking this over, and making it better than before! I do appreciate it!

Enjoy day 1: Geeking Out :)

Throughout his life, Soul Evans has loved many things and people. He has had loves that were brief, didn’t last so long, and died away as he grew older. There were loves that stayed with him, starting in his childhood and seeping into his teen years. There were the loves that he grew to realize were the most important, the ones that didn’t fade away as time wore on, and the ones that shaped him into the person he is today.

It’s incredible to think that everything played an important role in his life. How everything he cared for deeply has remained rooted on his timeline for all of eternity.

But there is one love he refuses to ever let go.

One that didn’t originally start out as love, but rather grew as he did, as she did.

The person he has grown to love the most is the girl he has known since he was five and she moved next door to him. She’s his best friend in the entire world, the only person who knows all of his secrets, the one who has been there for him when no else was, and the one who means the most to him. Maka Albarn has a kind soul that has touched him in ways he didn’t know were possible. It has helped shape him into the person he is today, and taught him that it is possible for someone else to love him.

Even now as he stands near the gate to her house, hidden in the shadows from the rest of the partygoers, he knows it’s true. His heart beats wildly against his ribcage, palms sweaty as he flexes his fingers in and out; even his breathing is shallow at what he has come here to do. He loves her. He loves her more than anyone else in the world, and he wants her to know that. It has been hell being away from her for so long, but it has taught him that really does want to be with her. There are no other people like her, no one else that makes his mind go blank or makes him think about future.

It has been her.

It has always been her, and now is his chance to see if she feels the same for him.

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