Binder PSA

*takes deep breath* okey soooo I don’t have much experience with binders and such but I do know for sure that binders from Amazon are horrible. I understand that dysphoria is painful and that it’s hard to cope with. But after ace bandages Amazon binders are the worst thing you can use. They are none to break ribs and cause sternums to cave in and that’s when wearing them for a safe amount of time.
Please be safe and take care of yourselves. When it comes to getting a good binder there are blogs that have free binders and online stores. If it can’t be shipped to you directly try to find a friend or person you can trust to ship it too and have them bring it to you.
You’re all lovely people and I’d hate for y'all to hurt yourselves.

(Now because I don’t have experience with binders I’m going to tag my lovely friend Luke who is more credible and such )

Luke : paracosim

notes “i hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” au, from this post

If there’s a patron god of irony, they must be laughing their ass off at this very moment. 

The stranger–first name Zuko, according to the chart she’d snuck a peek at–goggles out from under his sloppy bangs. 

“Say that again.”

Katara rocks back and forth in the guest chair, then forcibly stills herself when she remembers the splintered look of the snot-green plastic. She bunches her fists against her sternum, bearing down like she can hold in the urge to yell. 

“I…am a medical student.”

The guy–Zuko–transfers his stare to his shiny new leg cast. “Okay. What’s the punch line?” 

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I am always trying to get to you, the way golden leaves are constantly reaching for the sky.
And these nights I stay up till I can see the sunrise. These days I can’t help but cry.
Because my chest is so full of you, my throat is starting to close up.
When I think of heaven now, I think of that place between your arms and your sternum. That place where your heart beats against my ear like a song I was born to hear.
Maybe I’m one of those stupid girls dancing on Cloud 9 while the high lasts. Maybe one day the clouds will fall out from under me. Maybe one day you will be the one to hammer me to pieces.
But right now, you are sleeping.
I listen to your breathing.
And the truth is, you are the one thing in this big blue world that I can lean on.
You stitch me up where I am torn. Your own Raggedy Anne doll.
And right now, I am with you.
Right now, I am okay.
—  You taught this asthmatic how to breathe
I wanna know how many painkillers Nick Fury was on just so he could achieve his Triumphant Return Strut

I mean, the movie takes place over the course of 3 or 4 days, right? Nick had injuries to his spinal cord and sternum, a fractured clavicle, a perforated lung, and a terrible headache. But he comes in all: 

“Ain’t no thang. Let’s fuck up these HYDRA bastards.”

we threw ourselves into it, when we could, with the force of a fist through our sternums: we told ourselves that because one night we’d no longer have the energy to live, for right now, we would grab onto life with all of our teeth and rip whole lifetimes from single moments.

someone once told me that i recover from bad things faster than anyone else. i didn’t know how to explain that i live a balance beam, that i cannot afford to let bad days get to me. bad days don’t stay bad days if they find their way into my blood stream, they become bad weeks, bad months, bad years, bad mornings spent in weariness, bad nights soaked in insomnia.

i live the red life, splash ecstatic, hang out of windows, rev the engine. i live it because any morning might be the last morning i feel anything.

—  up/DOWN /// r.i.d

i watched you reapply your lipstick while i lay in your bed covered in bruises and kisses and thought about how you’re going on to do better things. it’s weird being only somebody’s flickering roadstop, a memory they cannot quite place and have no feelings towards either way. it’s weird when you’re my trip to the mountains, some slice of the wild i’ll never get back, not in the same way. it’s weird that i keep closing myself off to everyone but the wrong people, that i only open when burnscars like you stroll in and whisper the password against my sternum. it’s weird knowing that you could roll out of the sheets and get going when that bed will always hold a piece of me.