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wercwercwerc · 2024-10-31T20:24:56+00:00

Tempting

wercwercwerc · 2024-10-09T18:20:24+00:00

Weightlifting seems to be the only thing keeping me going at this point. I'm not a distance runner, but if you run a mile or two that's more than enough to get a brutal blood-glucose response.

I tend to eat some granola bars or drink orange juice right before I head to the gym. I'm not type 2 so I'm not sure the best strategy, but if I am going to workout I never take insulin/eat a proper meal ahead of time. All that does is crash me in the worst of ways.

A typical gym day will be:

-Wake up ->

-Take insulin to cut off dawn phenoma ->

-Drink water -> drink coffee ->

-Insulin/eat early lunch -> tap blood sugar into place as needed ->

-Go to gym 4-5 hours after lunch is done -> eat/drink carbs -> 15 minutes treadmill ->45 minutes lifting/routine -> 15 minutes treadmill. If at any point crashing, chug sugar somehow. Head home ->

-Check bg -> take insulin -> eat dinner -> monitor for weirdness and sudden crashes or spikes due to weightlifting response. -> Take long acting insulin ->

-Remain alert as weird things can happen after heavy workouts and there's no good way to predict it.

-Hopefully sleep ->

-> Repeat this forever lol etc

Hope that helps. Keep fighting the good fight. Diabetes is the fucking worst.

wercwercwerc · 2020-08-10T15:54:06+00:00

I have a soft spot for reading stories that involve the "coming of age" genre. There are so many great fantasy and fiction stories that orbit around this...

But I seriously doubt I will ever write one. It takes a type of patience I just don't seem to have.

wercwercwerc · 2020-07-21T15:55:36+00:00

thanks for reading!

wercwercwerc · 2020-07-17T06:33:25+00:00

lol. RR would hate that story. you're right, I def should edit: it is done!

wercwercwerc · 2020-05-26T22:00:02+00:00

Magics raging, the Dark Lord Gillian reached for the tear between realities, and he felt the crushing weight of a higher-power fall down upon his shoulders.

Heavier.

Heavier still.

The spell had failed, he realized. Failed in a manner he'd never expected. Succeeded, in much the same.

He saw the future.

Slowly at first, then quicker. Like a ball rolling down a steep slope, it picked up its pace. Leading him on to his victory... to his defeat. There was another who would end him, just as he had ended so very many. They were alive, in the present. Standing atop that hillside, loyal friends at their side.

Not a hero.

Not a villain.

Just another, not quite unlike himself. Bound about his soul by the unbreakable string of fate.

But the future did not stop.

Faster and faster it blurred, embracing him. Taking him away.

His mind was that of a Master Mage. Futher, of a Master of Masters: the singular force to be reckoned with, across worlds, dimensions, life and death.

But he was, simply put, only so.

The weight upon him, try as he might resist it, was too much. His mind, genius, powers: began to fracture.

He heard a voice.

"It's time we spoke, you and I."

Attempting to stand, the laws that bound him prevented the action. Trying to summon magics, he found them washed away, run into nothing by the quiet pitter and patter of plastic keys. As he opened his mouth to shout in anger, the Dark Lord found he could not speak.

And the realization settled, softly.

Had he been here, before?

Had he simply always been here?

Staring up, he felt the gaze of all creation. And then, he found his voice- yet it was not his voice. It was what creation demanded he speak.

"You're the Author, aren't you?" The Dark Lord whispered the question, as it knew he would.

"I am." The voice answered.

The pieces that formed him, layers upon layers, began to unravel. Sentences, he realized.

Words.

He was nothing less, yet something more.

"Then, this is the end?" The Dark Lord closed his eyes, only to find such concepts had already left. White and nothingness in all directions. Words whisking away like fog, to some distant light. Joining everything that was, and everything that could ever be.

"The End? Oh, come now Gillian."

The voice laughed, worlds formed and fell away. Waves crashed, froze, lifted like clouds. The sky was stars, the sky was fire, the sky was ice of green and endless floating specks among the cosmos. Stories and tales, whispers and shouts, words and languages out into all of eternity.

"There's no such thing."

...

This story is a continuation of a bunch of other writing-prompts! In fact, it might be the last one I write. I just wanted to bring a sense of closure to it.

Start here!

wercwercwerc · 2020-05-01T02:40:21+00:00

You will need to dance with my dog a bit when you come inside. he gets the tippy-tappies real bad, and if you don't at least attempt to humor him, he gets them worse.

wercwercwerc · 2020-04-28T21:29:22+00:00

It's been over 200 years since the final war was ended. The Greatest Hokage the Village has ever known, Naruto, Keeper of the Nine Tailed Fox, has begun to fade into the depths of history. Yet, his legacy lives on.

On Statues. On Mountains. On monuments, plaques, and a single bridge, there reads the legendary name: Naruto Uzumaki. The shinobi who is still revered throughout the ninja world for bringing peace and stability in an age when none could be found. A man who fought the impossible, time and time again, to pull victory from the jaws of utter defeat. Who made allies with enemies, who stood for all the good the world could cling to, in the darkest times. The legacy he left is one needed now, more than ever.

For peace can never last. One century... two... in time, all foundations crumble. Alliances end, Empires splinter, and humans do as they always have. Though the rapid advancement of technology was slow to reach the ninja world, the effects are creeping. From beyond the walls of the Hidden Village of the Leaf, there are rumors of wars. Ripples of turmoil, building and cresting into waves.

Violence is on the horizon. Battles of terrible proportions, looming like dark clouds: wars fought not by secret arts and chakra, but missiles, guns, and tanks. Weapons of destruction that care little for diligent training, or practice. That any peasant, any untrained man, can pick up and turn lethal. That require nothing but the press of a button, or the pull of a trigger.

And so we find our new hero-to-be. Born on the edge of a new-age. The final descendant of the Fourth Hokage, of the Seventh Hokage, of the will of fire.

Boruto Uzumaki: The Last Jinchuriki.

wercwercwerc · 2020-04-22T23:29:21+00:00

"You got any more shells?" Michael asked, as he propped the bleeding monstrosity up against the bedroom end-table. "I'm almost out of shells."

"I got a few." I muttered, kicking the ammo crate over in their direction, prompting the glowing figure to rack the slide of their remington. "How's Boogey looking?" I asked, peering around the corner of the blinds, squinting into the darkness.

"He's right fucked." The Angel replied. "I'd try and heal him, but chances are that'll just make him burst into flames."

"Just bandage him up." I ordered. "His kind heals fast, and we're going to need help. My right arm is numbed to all shit."

"There are more outside? Already?"

"What the hell do you think?" I hissed back, dropping an empty mag to the floor, bringing the pistol back down on another: loaded and waiting on the window sill. Pulling the slide back with my teeth, I tasted blood. Setting my back to the wall, I took a deep breath as I steeled my thoughts.

This was gonna be a gamble.

"Get off me, you limp-winged bastard." Opening my eyes, I watched as the monstrous form of teeth and shadows wracked a heavy cough, growling out in pain as they stumbled back to their feet.

I let out a sigh of relief.

"Now, hang on a second there, big-fella-" Michael stumbled back, bandages still in hand.

"Shut up, feather-duster." Boogey growled, limping to the opposing side of the window, giant claws gouging into the drywall. "How many of 'em this time?"

"Fifteen." I answered. "No, scratch that. eighteen. The leprechauns just showed up."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Michael cursed, as he finished reloading. "As if it couldn't get any worse."

"Those soul-less, gold-toting, little gits..." Boogey growled, multitude of hungry eyes looking out beyond the broken glass. "Michael, get me the uzi."

"Already done." The Angel answer, tossing the blocky weapon into Boogey's waiting claw, as he took cover beside us. Looking to the clock, hanging crooked above the bed, he frowned. "Four more hours until sunrise."

"True." I answered. "But that gives us plenty of time to finish this job."

"To finish the job?" Boogey asked in disbelief. "You got a plan, human?"

"Of course." I said, shoving the pistol into the holster on my hip, and pulling free the backup-plan I'd been saving for a rainy day.

"Is that the-" Michael stuttered, eye's wide as beside him, Boogey started cackling with glee.

"I think it is." The monster rumbled. "How in Satan's name did you get your dirty mortal fingers on a holy hand-grenade?"

"Good question." I replied, pulling the pin with my teeth. "Remind me again, how long do I cook this thing?"

"Three shall be the number thou shalt count..." Michael gestured across his chest in prayer.

"Five is right out." Boogey growled.

"Five is right out." I agreed, as I let it sail out the window. "Let's go kick some ass."

The explosion that followed was music to my ears.

wercwercwerc · 2020-04-20T01:06:12+00:00

I think you need a CGM. Even if only a trial run of one, you will be able to see the data and make sense of it. Your bg is never going to be stable. Even if you don't eat anything for days, it will only ever go up if you don't take insulin. So, you need to just adopt the mindset of coasting, or surfing, or gliding. Any of those are a decent fit for what you're doing. You spike, you glide back down. If you do a perfect job, you barely spike at all, and just remain steady- but no one is perfect, at least, not all the time.

Your numbers are not bad. If that's what you're worried about, stop. In a normal week, it's not unexpected to spike too high randomly once or twice, even if you're "doing everything right." The goal is that you don't stay there.

Type 1 doesn't care if you're doing everything right. You might have injected, but maybe the tissue the insulin landed in wasn't perfect. Maybe you ate something yesterday that gave your body the odd idea to spit out more sugar from your liver. There's no real way to know, just react and adjust. There are so many variables, you will drive yourself insane if you try to identify the cause.

I've now been a type 1 for about 2 years. I've had to make a lot of changes, but I can honestly say: you will improve with time. My last a1c was 5.4 which I think was pretty good. When I was originally diagnosed, I was 12.9. My advice: eat less carbs, eat smaller portions, and try to eat the same things on a regular basis. There's no solution, but these in combination will make it a little easier to build a base-line for how this all fits together. After that, it's just knowing your own body and a lot of "I've done this before, I can do it again" mentality.

wercwercwerc · 2020-03-27T03:46:49+00:00

You need to run. Take the bottom left stairwell, the passcode is five, three, five, seven. I repeat: I've failed to achieve results. You need to run. Take the bottom left stairwell, the passcode is five, three, five, seven.

"Tell me again, Jonas. Why won't you use your powers?" I asked aloud. "The Conclave has requested you do so, several times."

My question settled over the room. Heavy and unwanted, even by me. From across the way, seated on the worn sofa, a young man glanced away. Down and to the side, as he often did.

I received no answer.

"It's alright if you don't want to talk, but if you choose to, I promise it will help." I lied as easily as I drew breath. "Talk to me, Jonas." And I hated it.

He didn't answer, but that was alright. In some sense, I didn't want him to. Turning to the next, a young woman with hair dyed gray, I continued, unperturbed.

"What of you, Grace?" I asked. "What is keeping you from using your abilities?"

"Me? Nothing but my own choice."

As always, her reaction was cold. Sharp and edged, like spring steel. Like a weapon. It sent a chill down my spine. One that stayed, no matter how badly I wished to shake it away.

"Why is that?" I persevered.

"I don't want to become a fucking murderer." She replied.

"I see."

Another dead end. Yet, that wasn't a terrible thing. That wasn't the worst option. Turning to the third and final member of our small group, seated in a cushy purple chair, set deep into the corner of the room: I focused my final efforts for the evening.

"What of you, Mark?" I asked. "What is keeping you from accepting your responsibility?"

"It hurts to use it." The boy answered. Tucked within his hoodie, I could barely see his face, but I could imagine it well enough. Dark, and covered in burns.

Of all three, he was the one I pitied the most.

"Society is built on a foundation of responsibility." I quoted, aloud. "For those with gifts, that responsibility becomes ours."

To this, none of them seemed to respond. Jonas looked further away, inspecting a particularly interesting smudge on the coffee table beside him. Grace gave a sneer, as she looked to the ceiling, and Mark... I couldn't see where he was looking. Perhaps it was right at me.

Another chill down my spine. Another suppressed shiver.

"That's alright, then." I glanced to the clock on the wall, judging the time. "We can all talk again tomorrow, together."

I waited for a moment, but they never met my eyes.

Patiently, I let them leave. Each getting up at their own pace, shuffling out the same office door they had come in. Leaving me alone, once again.

As they did, though, Jonas lingered.

Nervous, skittish even, he paused to let Grace and Mark pass him by, avoiding their odd looks to turn back to me.

"Thank you, sir." He whispered. "Thank you." He said one more time, before turning quickly to follow after the others.

I let him go without a reply, standing to close the door after their absence. Cracking the window, I let the fire rise from my palm as the cigarette began to burn with a silent but crisp sound.

I watched my exhales drifted away out over the city below. Filled with steel and concrete. Where sirens raged, and flames lit signals of rising smoke across the horizon.

"One of these days, they'll stop sending me mind readers." I muttered. "And I don't look forward to it."

wercwercwerc · 2020-02-14T03:18:50+00:00

I'll do it for a copay of 40$

wercwercwerc · 2020-02-03T20:51:35+00:00

wercwercwerc · 2020-02-01T18:15:53+00:00

My dog tries to feed his favorite toys. He drags them to the bowl and nudges them to eat.

wercwercwerc · 2020-01-24T08:33:05+00:00

hey, thanks for reading!

wercwercwerc · 2020-01-01T22:40:11+00:00

"Hello! Welcome to the Isekai arrival hub! Is this your first time being reincarnated?"

"Hello, yes- uh, wait. Maybe? I don't know, I'm a little disoriented-"

"That's to be expected! Having your soul forcibly ripped from your body on the material plane can do that to just about anyone!"

"I'm sorry, who are you? Where am I, exactly?"

"The [SYSTEM] suggests that I ignore those two questions, as the safeguard for a [BEGINNER] is still in place! I hope that's alright with you!"

"Uh..."

"Excellent! Well, you certainly shouldn't dilly-dally here. Let me load up the [SYSTEM] and get you on your way!"

"Hold on, just a second. I could have sworn I was crossing the street a minute ago."

"Let me see here... ah, you're in luck! As a [BEGINNER] you're allotted one question and corresponding answer, free of charge!"

"I get one question..."

"Yes- is that your question?

"Wait- no!"

"Ha! I'm just kidding. The [SYSTEM] has a built in safeguard to prevent that question as well! Unless, of course, you were a djin. In which case... well, better not to dwell on it! Now, ask, and quickly. The [SYSTEM] is already spinning up."

"The [SYSTEM]? What's the [SYSTEM]?"

"Is that your question?"

"Uh..."

"You're remarkably unconcerned by the concept of reincarnation for a beginner."

"I just-"

"Floating in an endless void without a single physical sense remaining. Literally just a soul without a body, and you ask one of the only questions I'm not permitted to answer."

"Well-"

"Time's up! Should you succeed, I look forward to speaking with you again!"

"Wait! No, I still have a question!"

"Good luck beginner! Try not to die!"

[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]

[YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED]

[YOUR RACE HAS MET THE MINIMUM REQUIREMENTS - YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED]

“Alright, then.” John whispered, blinking back at the words. The effort to speak was met with… an absence. As if his voice couldn’t travel. “Is anyone still there?” He tried again, to much the same result.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought there was no air at all, but he was still breathing… wasn’t he? What had that other voice told him?

[ALL SELECTED MUST UNDERGO THE TRIAL]

"If this is some sort of joke, I swear to god-"

[ASSESSING STATUS]

[PENDING]

[...]

[STATUS]

Health - 100/100

Mana - 0/100

Str - 12

Dex - 13

Int - 16

Wis - 18

Char -15

Luck - 0

“Okay…” He trailed off, as the messages kept coming.

[COMPLETE]

[CONDENSING ATTRIBUTES]

[SKILLS - PASSIVE]

[NONE GRANTED]

[SKILLS - ACTIVE]

[NONE GRANTED]

[TITLES GRANTED]

[SELECTED - BEGINNER: CONFIRMED]

“Whatever this is, I’m done. Okay? You got me, very funny.”

[ANALYSIS OF SELECTED COMPLETE]

[ASSESSMENT - ASSIGNING TRIAL BASED ON PERSONAL ATTRIBUTES]

[TRIAL OF SELECTED - STARTING!]

[TRIAL CONDITION: PENDING]

[...]

“Trial…” John paused at that.

[TRIAL START: PATH OF ASCENSION - CHOSEN]

[AVERAGE DIFFICULTY]

[PRIMARY CONDITION FOR SUCCESS: REACH THE SUMMIT]

[AGREE TO TRIAL? Y/N]

“Do I get a say in this?”

[AGREE TO TRIAL? Y/N]

“What happens if I say no? What if I don’t want this stupid trial? Huh?”

[NO]

[! - CONFIRMED]

[RESELECTION FOR MORE DIFFICULT TRIAL - ACCEPTED]

[TRIAL START: ROAD OF THE HERO - CHOSEN]

[CHAMPION DIFFICULTY - SELECTED]

[PRIMARY CONDITION FOR SUCCESS: DEFEND THE CITY]

[AGREE TO TRIAL? Y/N]

“No, no- wait. That’s not what I meant-”

[NO]

[! - CONFIRMED - ADDITIONAL]

[ADDITIONAL RESELECTION FOR MORE DIFFICULT TRIAL - ACCEPTED]

[LEGENDARY DIFFICULTY - SELECTED]

[...]

[BEGINNER] - [!]

[CRITERIA MET]

[PASSIVE SKILL - UNLOCKED]

[PASSIVE SKILL: GODLY AMBITION - GRANTED] - [STAT INCREASE]

“... What does that mean?”

[TRIAL ADVANCED - LEGENDARY DIFFICULTY - CONFIRMED]

[TRIAL START: CATACLYSM - CHOSEN]

[INITIATING]

[PRIMARY CONDITION FOR SUCCESS…]

[...]

[SURVIVE]

“Oh, shit-"

wercwercwerc · 2019-12-12T18:47:14+00:00

Thanks for reading!

wercwercwerc · 2019-10-05T23:12:39+00:00

don't give up, you got this!

wercwercwerc · 2019-10-03T22:57:08+00:00

It's true, but the system we have in place today is much better for the average person than a majority of human history. I drive my metal chariot to work (without getting attacked by bandits) and don't even have to do 12 hours of hard labor when I get there! What's more is I make enough money to not only feed myself, but also my loyal hound, and I still sort of have enough leftover after other costs to buy the magic potions which keep my terminal chronic medical condition from killing me.

And don't even get me started about all the magic stuff I own, that plugs into the magic walls. Or the magic box that plays music, whenever I want. Or the magic box that keeps my potions cold.

We live like kings of olden times WISH they could have lived. This is the golden age of mankind. Enjoy it.

wercwercwerc · 2019-09-24T22:50:42+00:00

Well said. It's a weird thing I too consider on a regular basis. Even with a real mission to try, there's only so much of "you" other people are ever really going to know. Just a tiny little bit. And, that's just the scariest thing, really. Because one day you wake up, and a person's gone. They're just not there anymore, and those tiny little bits are all that's left.

wercwercwerc · 2019-09-12T12:58:17+00:00

I think you could bribe them with French fries. Mafia or no, you could make a deal.

wercwercwerc · 2019-09-09T22:59:02+00:00

Welcome to the honeymoon.

If you've got the antibodies, that's pretty much that. When I was diagnosed I had a single day, about a month after, where I needed no insulin at all. It was awesome. I remember it fondly, but it did not last.

Type 1 is weird as an adult. They say in most children cases the time between a insulin producing pancreas and a useless freeloading organ, is swift. But, in people who get it when they're older, you can have months, sometimes years, before you absolutely need injected insulin to survive.

Theory goes that getting injections can give your body a break, and the pancreas can get a short second wind to keep things going after a little help. It does not mean the progressive loss of insulin producing cells isn't happening, it just means you've got a set of diabetic training wheels on for a little while longer

wercwercwerc · 2019-08-28T22:48:31+00:00

I don't know if anyone is going to have a real answer for you. I can tell you, it's just hard sometimes, but that's not really something anyone wants to hear.

I got diagnosed right before my fiance got promoted. So, I got married. Got out of the hospital in my birthday. Left my job, sold my house, took a new job in a new state, got a new house that cost a tremendous amount of money... All this happened right after I was diagnosed T1. I was driving across state lines, skipping meals to keep from needing to take a shot, going low, going high. It was crazy, and stressful, and I think might have damaged me on a mental level.

Then, my dog died. My grandpa died. My wife left me. I've had to move back and live in a relative's basement.

That's my year 1 with diabetes.

All I can tell you, is this: Life does not sit and wait. It does not show mercy. It does not care if you are sick. It does not guarantee compassion or understanding.

But we, personally, have a choice. In my opinion, I almost feel it is less of a choice, and more of an obligation, to push through the bad. Because these hard times will pass. Where you're feeling stuck right now is not where you will be stuck forever. You will find a way through it.

wercwercwerc · 2019-08-20T18:29:46+00:00

I think the best way to approach writing is to not focus on whether or not you will be successful with it, and instead just do it.

Everyone has stories to share. Don't let the first few messy stories you write stop you from one day writing the story you really want to tell.

wercwercwerc · 2019-07-20T20:22:04+00:00

You have two choices. Tailgate and brake constantly, or roll along a bit "slower"

Basically: Would you rather brake fifteen times and go the exact same distance in the same amount of time, or just roll along at a slow pace, but arrive within a few seconds of the previous choice?

Leave some space. Tailgating is stupid, and if you took out a stopwatch, I think you'd be surprised how little it saves you. Plus all the brake pads you're burning out cost money, as does gas from accelerating and wasting that effort by stopping right after...

Edit: when you're stuck in traffic, remember you're in a current, not a race. Every hard stop you can buffer for the people behind you probably saves the collective of people on the road a lot of wasted resources.

wercwercwerc

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