this is partially my fault but still

On the subject of cheating… how tf do I do group work/collaboration while avoiding a bunch of lazy layabouts? You know the kids I’m talking about: the ones who sit there and contribute nothing, but still stand with the group when it’s time to present as if they actually deserve the same grade as their group mates. My students are very needy (partially my fault, I know); I won’t have time to walk around taking notes of who is working because I’ll be constantly helping group after group after group. I’m almost tempted to put all the layabouts in a group together so they can all get the grade they deserve while all the other groups get a fair amount of people willing to work.

so um. ironwood’s right arm and ironwood’s left arm are a ship now and it’s……. only partially my fault

it is late and i’m tired but i needed to draw this while i was still in “screw it, it’s 2am” mode.

sadkittyworld  asked:

Wow. Well, I mostly hit my right shoulder, and now it hurts. Well, it's partially my schoolbag's fault too. ( School is so BORING I WANT TO STAY HOME) Also: I think I got a cold. And there's been a conflagration (or a fire) and there were so many firetrucks and ambulances. Don't worry, I am okay. But I just wanna know if I can do something for you to feel better. <3

I know school sucks but believe me when you start being adult you will thank the heavens for the knowledge you got. 
Knowledge is power after all. 
I myself am a person that really appreciates learning.

Ah god also a cold sounds bad still! Take care of yourself do not worry about me dear. 
I shall be fine. 

Be careful about fire-related incidents though, even after the fire ceased the gas remains can be very dangerous. 

I'm tired of being broken

The last three and a half years have been pretty tumultuous, and I think after each semester I kept thinking, “Maybe next semester will be better.” Maybe after I do a show over the summer. Maybe after I start being on meds and seeing a therapist. Maybe after I take a break from this scene and go to Sydney. Maybe after I come back from Sydney and do the thing I love again. Maybe after this final semester. Maybe once I move out of this living situation and leave this school. Maybe after I finish summer classes. Maybe after I adjust to being an adult.

And yet, here I am. Still unable to love myself, still feeling like I have no friends, still not looking people in the eye while talking because if I do they will see me welling up and I am so sick and tired of always fucking crying

So I have no friends. Partially my fault. I wasn’t very social during school because I was convinced everyone thought me inconsequential. After school’s over, I don’t have any friends because the ones I had are having their own lives and forget about me it seems, or I was never that close with people to begin with and so why would they reach out to hang out with me now?

And joke’s on me because when I go home, I always expect to feel better because I remember the feeling of having friends who like you and hang out and know you, and then I realize that because I haven’t really talked to them all the while I’ve been in New York, I fee disconnected from them too. So way to go Erin, you really suck at making and retaining friends, so it seems.

I can see all the things that I need to do to get the ball rolling in numerous aspects of my life. But do I do the things? No. No I don’t. For fear of failure or I don’t even know, fear of rejection- who the fuck knows. Clearly not me. Clearly not the shrink I’m not seeing because IM
NOT SEEING ONE. So way to go Erin. You really are not that great at being a person. Good job.

It moderately pisses me off that Overwatch very much has the Rosemary problem going for it at this point.

That being where, despite an even split of male/female characters in the canon, and one or more f/f ships being popular (even canon, in the case of Rosemary), they are still vastly outnumbered by the m/m ships… And what’s more, a large percentage of the fics tagged as any given f/f pairing, they’re just a background ship.

It’s really disappointing regardless, but even more so for a canon where, before I got into it, all I saw in the way of art - and I mean regular art, not porn - was two f/f pairings…

Though I guess that’s partially my fault for having a biased dash, formed in the korrasami days.

As much as Victoria always went on about wanting Nicolas giving her more freedom, not hearing from him for more than a few days was an eerie feeling that did not sit well with her. She hadn’t been pleased with how he kept her in the dark about the coup that he had staged a few months ago. It was however, partially her fault for letting it be so easy to conceal things from her. Keeping primarily to herself had that effect. Still, she’d noticed that he had been uncharacteristically quiet over the past couple of weeks, and despite the disappointment that lingered, she was concerned for him.

She knocked on his front door, waiting for it to open. When it did, she fixed her brother with a smile. “Hi stranger. Where’ve you been? You would think that someone who put a spell on my house would have at least stopped by this week.” 


Just Too Young Part 3

Author’s Note: Final part for Just Too Young, which was one of my first fics!  you haven’t read the first two I strongly suggest you do, it will make more sense! Reader thinks Dean doesn’t like her because she’s young but he’s just afraid of putting her in danger. First half came easy, got a little writers block on the second but hopefully you’ll still enjoy! Writer’s block always makes me question my mojo. Please let me know what you think! Warnings: language, conflict, reference to injury

The ride home was silent and tense. Dean and I hadn’t spoken much since the accident, which was partially my fault for being so stubborn. I shifted my weight away from the cold passenger window and shuddered when my side felt torn with pain. A barely audible yelp rose from my lips before I could try to hide it. Just when I thought maybe it had gone unnoticed, I heard Dean give a frustrated growl. I watched him from the corner of my eye while he drove, flashes of light from the passing cars flickering across his face. He looked so angry. His jaw clenched very slowly and methodically, making his whole profile shift and quake. After the night he found me in the bathtub something changed between us. He still cared for me but he was cold and distant. He didn’t tease me like he normally would or berate me when I purposely played songs he didn’t like. There was no more whiskey offered to me and no more lessons on how to work on the Impala. I felt like he was slowly shutting me out completely, like I was losing my friend. I reached to turn on the radio but a hand stopped mine.

“No music.” Deans words were gruff and short, maybe even more than he intended. He didn’t take his eyes off the straightway in front of him. “You should get some sleep.” I could tell he wasn’t asking, he was demanding. I was too tired to argue and settled for huffing in disapproval. I grabbed a jacket from the backseat, caring little that it was in fact his, and rolled it up in a ball to rest my head on. It smelled like him and that made me even more aware of just what I was losing. I struggled to sort through my tired thoughts for what reason he would have to suddenly withdraw from me. I thought back to Sam’s words at Bobby’s “You’re just too young for Dean. You’re fragile and hopeful and he’s just not used to that.” I felt tears stinging at my eyes as another shooting pain lit up my wound, although I’m not sure if that was what made me want to cry. Maybe Dean was done with babying me. Maybe after getting injured he realized how much of a liability I really am. Dean was rugged and experienced in all definition of the word. He’d been with women twice my age, I was sure. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him now, not when he might see the moisture trailing down my cheeks. I should have known he would out grow me at some point. I was just a stupid little girl to him, an amusing pet to play with on occasion. I silently cursed myself for thinking there could be anything else between us.

Dean POV

It wasn’t long before the girl beside me finally drifted off to sleep, her head pressed tightly against the material of my jacket. Every time I looked at her I felt so many conflicting emotions inside me. I prided myself on my ability to see all things black and white. In life, there’s right and wrong. There’s evil and good and I always know where I stand. But with her, nothing was ever clean cut. She came sashaying into my life, unruly and young, like a wildflower. She was light to my darkness, love to my smoldering resentment. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of teasing her. It was worth the bright red color her cheeks would get and the way she would push against my chest with her little hand. I never felt guilty about it, because she vexed me more than I would allow most. She made me question myself, consider new options and perspectives. She was everything I wasn’t.

I made sure she was unconscious before I turned to watch her while she slept. Little twinges of pain made her face change every so often, proof that she was still silently suffering from her injury. I hated myself for that. My white knuckles gripped the steering wheel tighter.

 ”I never should have brought you.” Sam was right. The feelings I had for Y/N were selfish and destructive. If I really cared about her so much I wouldn’t have put her in harms way like this. I watched her small lips fall open slightly in a dreaming murmur, matching the fluttering of her eyelids.

I wanted so badly to pull over the Impala and just hold her close. I wanted to apologize for letting her get hurt and promise her that nothing in this world would ever tear her from my protection, but I couldn’t do that. The best thing I could do was separate us. I was the poison in her life and I knew it. Even before Sam had spoken to me I knew that, deep down, I was far too broken to be with something so pure. It was killing me to ignore her like this, but it was all I could do.

Reader POV

When I woke up we were riding over the bumps of the rocky driveway at Bobby’s junkyard. Dean was still in the exact same position as when I let him, only now his eyes seemed more tired and bloodshot. A dry coffee cup in the console told me he was running on empty. I wished he would say something to me, anything to lessen the emptiness growing between us. When he clicked off the engine he stayed still for a while, his hand still clenched around the wheel in front of him. It was like he never left the trance he was driving in. There was so much torment written on his face, years of pain and struggle in every scar and mark. I was overwhelmed by the urge to trace them all with my finger while he told me the story behind each.

 ”You slept, that’s good.” His deep voice made me jump a little and I was surprised by his glance in my direction. The way he looked at me made me shiver. I nodded and played with his jacket in my hands quietly. Neither one of us knew what to say but neither one wanted to get out of the car. Maybe because it was cold outside, or maybe because we knew there were words left unsaid. After grappling for some kind of friendly remark I finally got the courage to speak.

“Dean, can you show me how to change the sparkplug, like you did the oil?” The question was random, but out of genuine interest. I loved it when he showed me how to do more work on the Impala and not just because of the joy it gave him. I wanted him to teach me, to spend time telling me about the the things he loved. I wanted his calloused hands to guide mine and his mouth to speak my praise when I did a job well.

The question took him by surprise, his eyebrows rising slightly. He was pleased for a moment but it faded into a blank stare out the windshield. His eyes were dark again like when he was driving. I could tell he was closing himself off like before.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My fingernails dug into the seat below me and I felt my throat tightening with anger.

“Fine.” I stepped out of the Impala and slammed the door, not bothering to pick up Deans jacket when it landed on the muddy ground.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I was kept wide awake with thoughts of what had happened between the two of us. I wished I was older and less fragile. Whenever my side ached I grit my teeth and told myself to push one step further, I would make myself tougher. When sleep still refused to come I quietly climbed down the stairs to the kitchen for a drink of water. Loud voices stopped me in my tracks.

“I can’t believe you put her in danger like that, Dean. This little game your playing has gone too far.” I could hear the anger in Sam’s voice as he paced around a unmoving Dean. “What were you thinking?” The younger brother certainly seemed concerned about me, more than Dean was of late. I was careful not to betray my hiding place as I eavesdropped on their conversation. I heard a bottle being thumped down on the counter and someone sigh. It was a while before Dean responded slowly.

“I know Sam. I’m done with her okay? I should have listened to you.” I could feel his words ripping through my chest and straight to my heart. He was done with me, I knew it. This was all just a game to him from day one.


For the next month things went similarly, Dean and I avoiding each other as much as possible. I busied myself with begging Sam to teach me new things about hunting and helping Bobby research. There was a long jagged rip in my side still from the incident in Quebec, but it was healing nicely. When I needed someone to take the stitches out I knew exactly who to ask.

“You had Sam take out your stitches?” I could tell from Dean’s voice that he was facing my back. I didn’t bother turning around.

“I did. He did a good job.” I made sure that my words were well pronounced so he wouldn’t miss anything. There was a quiet pause, the only sound in the kitchen coming from the skillet I was cooking in. I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself, especially not to Dean.

“How’s it feel?” I felt myself getting more and more agitated as his questions went on. I spat a quick “fine” and turned on the loud vent over the stove. If he was going to try and small talk he would have to try harder. Five more minutes passed and the elder Winchester was still standing nearby, nursing the coffee in his fist. I wasn’t sure why he was being so friendly today and I honestly didn’t care. When I turned around to reach for a plate and almost ran into his chest, I was furious.

“Dean! What the hell, don’t you have something in the garage to be fixing?” His face crinkled in disgust, eyes looking at me like I was a stranger. I expected him to shoot back a stern remark or comment on my inability to back a threat, but he said nothing. He handed me a plate quietly, turned, and walked out of the room without a word.

Deav POV

I ran my fingers over the indented leather of my belt slowly. The deep dips in it’s surface were in the shape of a small “U”. For a girl with a big mouth, her bite was tiny. I flashed back to that day in the hotel room when I was sewing her up, her head pressed against my shoulder as she cried and shivered. I could still smell the coppery scent of blood and alcohol mingling together. The way she screamed into my belt, one hand digging into my arm for support, those memories would never leave me. That entire event was on my shoulders. Her blood was on my hands, literally. I was just glad nothing worse than a scar would be left of it.

I put the belt on and grabbed a plaid shirt to button up over my chest. There was no hunt for the day and I was planning on getting some more work done on the Impala while there was some deserved free time. I stomped down the stairs and almost ran into Y/N, who was reaching for some ammo on top of the fridge. Her entire body was stretched out and yet her fingers still fell short of grabbing the box she wanted. I couldn’t help but grin a little at the way she looked so small and troubled. The hem of her shirt lifted just enough to show off the top of her anti possession tattoo. I was suddenly aware that she was watching me, watching her.

“Take a picture Dean, it would last longer.” She snapped.

“You need a hand?” She scowled in my direction and flipped her hair off of her shoulder in annoyance.

“No, I don’t need your help. I’m not a kid.” As she tried harder to reach the top of the fridge, her shirt lifted higher to reveal the scar that trickled down her side. The raised edges of her old wound looked white and stood out like a lightning bolt against her skin. I hadn’t seen it since the day I helped her out of that bloody bathtub. I stepped forward and grabbed the box for her, the whole time caught staring down at her face.

“I know you’re not.” Her aggravation melted away into surprise. We stood staring at one another for a while, our eyes searching for what the other was thinking. When she took the item from my grasp our fingers brushed slightly. “Y/N.” I was so tired of the uneasiness between us. I just wanted her back. A bittersweet look took her when I whispered her name, a little bit of that familiar pink rising to her cheeks.

 “Dean, don’t play with my emotions.” Her words came out shaky. The walls that guarded her vulnerability were beginning to crumble under my gaze.

“I never have.” Her mouth fell open a little at my words, which were sad and slow.

Reader POV

I was sitting on the floor of the garage, my back leaning against one of the Impala’s tires. I didn’t know what to say or do. My fingers were still tingling were Dean touched them and I tried rubbing them against my jeans to make it stop. Everything was fine this morning. I woke up like every other day, I intended on practicing my shooting out back, and now here I was falling apart. Dean and I had been platonic for so long that I wasn’t prepared for all those emotions resurfacing. “I never have.” His words rang in my ears like an insult that I wanted to hear over and over again. What did he mean by that? Why was he being so kind to me all of a sudden? I couldn’t let him seem me like this, not when my lip quivered with every breath. I lowered my head into my folded arms and fought back tears. I still cared for him so much, I still laid awake at night wishing we could be something. I hated him for shutting me out, but I wasn’t sure how to handle him letting me back in. A hand resting on my shoulder made me quiver.

“Sam?” I lifted my head and immediately froze. Dean was standing over me, his face concerned. I turned away and wiped my eyes on my sleeve.“Can’t I get some time alone?” I tried to keep my voice even and strong. Dean took a clean bandana off his work bench and dropped it into my lap. When I didn’t pick it up he frowned and bent down to my level.

“Y/N, why do you always put up this act around me? I mean if you want me to go get you Sam instead…” I shook my head and stared at the dirty floor. There was a pause before Dean knelt down and sat next to me, his legs reaching out much further than mine. He sighed and tilted his back towards the ceiling. I could tell he was just as exhausted by it all as I was. “You can tell me what’s wrong. I mean if you’re just pissed at me, that’s fine too. I wouldn’t blame you.” He cleared his throat, the sound echoing against the metal in the room. The light over head flickered and the smell of gasoline filled my nose. “I know I was an ass when we got home from that trip, but I have my reasons.” He wrung his hands pensively, the rough skin creating a rubbing noise. “So if you don’t want to open up to me, I get it. Just know that I’m here… Like I should have been before.” I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, my whimper interrupting Deans explanation. I covered my mouth and tried to hide my face. Before I could get away, a strong arm was wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me to the right. I gave into the gesture and found myself crying gently on Deans chest. I couldn’t keep fighting it any longer, my words spilling out like the water from my eyes.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” Childish hiccups interrupted my speech and worsened my embarrassment. “I don’t want you to think I’m too young for you…” Dean shifted a little, somehow managing to move me even closer to himself. “I heard you talking to Sam, I know that’s why you stopped wanting to be around me. Because I’m a liability, and I’m childish and inexperienced…” My voice was partially muffled by the shirt I was pressed against but it still made Dean stiffen.

“Wait what?” He leaned away from me and stared down into my face. I tried to cover it with my hands but he pried them away. “What did you just say?” My fingers were squeezed tightly in his while he searched my expression, jaw clenching. I could taste the salt from my tears as I bit my lip. I was open to him now, unable to put up any defenses or mumble a rude remark. With my hands caught up midair in his, there was no way to mask my reddened eyes or the was my nose sniffed.

“I… I’m too young for you.. That’s why you didn’t want to be around me anymore right? Because you got tired of looking after me. After I got hurt-” Before I could continue I felt something warm and soft being pressed against my lips. My eyes flew open and I could see Deans eyelids just an inch from mine. Just as quickly as it started it ended, his mouth gone in an instant.

“Y/N…” He said my name like it was a prayer and hurriedly wiped his thumbs under my eyes. I was too shocked for words now, my head dizzy with thoughts. I could tell something had changed in him. He was looking at me with frantic searching. “You don’t really think that do you?” He held my cheeks in his hands so that he could see every bit of my face. When I didn’t respond he growled a low noise of dissatisfaction and pulled me into a hug. I was limp in his embrace, too confused to react to the affection being given. When he spoke his voice was slightly angry. “Don’t you ever say that like it’s a bad thing. Y/N, I love that you’re young and wild. I love that you want to learn things and that you’re free spirited.” His hand was running over my hair as he spoke quickly. “Everything about you makes me smile, even when you have no idea what you’re doing.” A little, stifled laugh fell from my lips. “And even when I should be angry with you for challenging me, I can’t be.”

When he pulled away he was smiling, his eyes sad. “I never got tired of caring for you. I would be honored to do that for the rest of my damned life.” I was smiling now too, new tears slipping down my cheeks. “Everything you thought, none of that is the truth. I stopped getting close to you because I was afraid of putting you in danger Y/N. After what happened… That was my fault. I’m poison for you, Y/N. I’m no good.” It was his turn to choke back emotion, his teeth clenched tight. I lifted a hand to cup his jaw. His little bit of stubble felt good against my fingers.

“Dean that wasn’t your fault, I wanted to go with you. You saved my life.” I took of his hands and placed it on my side so he could feel my scar. I could sense his fingers shaking slightly as they skimming the still raw skin. He spread his warm palm wide to wrap around my waist. “Cas told me he would heal me, take the mark way, but I told him no.” Dean’s eyes widened in shock, face growing ever closer to mine. “Because it reminds me of you Dean. It’s a symbol of what you did for me.” We were a tangled mess of arms and tears as I laid back against his chest. I lifted my hand over the place I knew his tattoo rested. “And that’s a more important mark to me than any anti-possession tattoo.” 

It was getting cold on the floor of the garage, but neither one of us wanted to go back inside the house after our conversation. We both dreaded the explanation that Sam and Bobby would demand. When Dean opened the door of the Impala and motioned me inside I couldn’t resist. We curled up on the backseat together, my head resting in Dean’s lap as he played with my hair. His other hand laid over my side in a protective manner.

“Y/N, promise me you won’t change. ” When I gave him a questioning glance he shrugged. “I don’t know, just don’t make yourself different than you are.“ I giggled and caught his hand in mine.

"You are pretty cheesy for someone who’s so ‘experienced’.” He stuck out his tongue and tickled my side, which sent me rolling into the floor of the Impala. When I stuck my head up my hair was tousled around wildly. Dean’s laughed reverberated throughout the small space. Instead of helping me back up into the seat he pulled me in for another kiss. This one was far more playful and slow. “Sam’s not going to be happy about this.” Dean rolled his eyes and pressed his lips against my forehead.

“I don’t give a damn. It’s just me and you right now. Sitting in the back of the Impala, cuddling to stay warm… You know, you make me feel young again.” Dean’s smile was wide, his eyes glittering with life.

“And I love that. Y/N, I love you.”


oKAY here is my Star Trek reaction post. no spoilers!

- re: gay Sulu. ITS CUTE. now. its quick. BUT its canon text and its a little longer than blink and youll miss it, BUT its not in your face. i think for the general viewer it would just happen too fast in the midst of everything else. they REALLY should have left in the scene they wrote of Sulu saying he was afraid that his family is in danger and that it was partially his fault. a) this would have made the Gay inescapable and b) it would have actually increased the tension of the final battle a lot more. To have Sulu saying “thats my family that might die.” the finale would have been way more emotional with that human component.
- I actually really liked Jayla (sp?) she wasnt obnoxiously sexy, she didnt try to usurp any of the main crews roles and she wasnt a love interest. a welcome relief after the CAROL MARCUS DEBACLE YEAH IM STILL MAD
- “DAMMIT JIM IM A DOCTOR-” me: 😱😱😱😱
- “inwented by a little old lady from Russia :)” 😇
-Spones fans. this is the movie for you. (i ship it platonically but i always loved their relationship) the banter was great and funny. it also gave them extra nice characterization touches that, (esp Bones) they needed after being Sidekicks so much
-Spock/Uhura wasnt obnoxiously present yooooo 👌🏽
-the uniforms are different i think? theyre much more unapologetically BRIGHT and i love it seeing the blue stark contrast against the rocks felt real good visual throwback to the show
-this was probably the movie that felt most like the original. the actors are much more visibly comfortable with their characters and obviously are REALLY enjoying themselves. it was charming. and after two movies the characters are all familiar with each other too so the camraderie and team element that we love most was palpable
- “is this classical music?”
- waste of Idris Elba under all that makeup
- “you gave your girlfriend a trackING device? I’m glad you don’t ‘respectp’ me.”
- such an unapologetic use of the “Left the Music On” trope niiice
- all the plot twists were predictable but? i didnt care. the plot was pretty weak but with such good group interactions i didnt mind.
- Anton god stop too sad
- “you keep ripping your shirts”
- no lens flare!

Conclusion: if you like Star Trek you will enjoy this movie


hey sense8 fandom, here are some free capheus fic ideas besides “shows up in other people’s stories to be generically ~wise~, issue-free, and conveniently asexual”

(because a lot of this is the show’s fault but not all of it and you know what, YOU CAN DO BETTER. that is a choice that you have.)

Keep reading

I'm so fucked

I’m so far in debt I can’t even think straight. If it’s not the bank calling because I’m behind in credit card payments and my bank statement is in negatives, it’s the student loan place saying that I need to pay them because I haven’t been able to. I’ve been so desperate to convince my mother that I’m doing alright, that I’m not a complete failure and waste of space that I’m now a thousand in debt just to get things away from negative balances. And that’s not including my day to day stuff that I need cash for. I’m having a panic attack now because apparently the loan from college that I had thought was now in my name alone is still partially in theirs, and they’re getting letters about why I haven’t paid. I just want things to turn around for once. So I’m asking for help. Which I feel awful for doing because this is all my fault, but I see no other way out. I don’t even know how to put a donate button on my page. But my Paypal email is If you can help me get at least somewhat out of debt to where I can make payments myself, I would appreciate it. I have nothing to offer, I work, I deal with my mother who according to a friend is abusive…. But I can’t help but think I deserve to be treated as a child sometimes, because I clearly can’t adult. I don’t know how all this works, I’ve never asked for help before. But please. I can’t do this anymore.

Listen Im actually one of the few people who feel charmed by the new art direction that the pokemon Su/Mo anime is taking but boy do I still feel pretty salty about the XYZ finale as a whole too.

Like here i was thinking that maybe Ash lost the league to Alain because he would instead at least fulfill the Greninja prophecy by becoming the savior of Kalos, but NOOOOO! even then Ash still needed Alain’s help to destroy the Megalith even tho it was partially Alain’s fault that the world was almost destroyed in the first place. In the end, the Depression arc and perfect Greninja ammounted to a huge pile of nothing and Alain was proved to be an actual canon Gary Stu.

So really, if there’s something people should be worried about, its if the Su/Mo anime is gonna be subjected to the same terrible writting because holy crap I’d have to send my condolences to Gamefreak even before the anime airs.

People keep hurting me wherever I go, no matter how I behave, whether I put my guard up or be vulnerable. Whether I internalize or confront. I must still be doing something wrong, but I can’t figure it out. Do I send off some kind of signal that it’s okay to do these things to me? It’s getting harder and harder to confide in others about the situations I keep running into, because obviously it’s at least partially my fault if it keeps happening, right?
—  Posted by Anonymous.

“I am a partially deceased syndrome sufferer, and what I did in my untreated state was not my fault.” He tells the mirror. Its hard to stomach, staring at his own lifeless eyes, but still he refuses the mousse and contacts. He sighs with whatever little air is left in his dead lungs and sits on the edge of the bed, waiting to be escorted to his next group therapy session.

Today was an arts and crafts session, trying to get the  patients involved in therapeutic hobbies to get them to ‘open up’ and 'seem more human’. Most of the patients had left to return to their families already, Dennis was one of the leftovers, one of three left in his therapy group.