Parallel

Dose two

Well; three weeks later, and we got our second COVID vaccine doses.

Although I wish this was not the case, I went from zero to full-on flashback in bout twenty minutes; and expect to remain in some variation of that mindset for the next few days.

I would like to stress for the new reader: this is not a side effect of the vaccine, and I strongly recommend that (where medically possible) everyone get it. This is purely my past history interacting with current events.

On the bright side, in a little over two weeks I will start treatment with a new EMDR therapist. I am very much hoping that goes a long way towards bringing these sorts of undesirable episodes under control.

Multiple of the above!

I take my extended-release Adderall and half of my estradiol in the morning. Generally I do this by sheer routine; and it’s very unusual for me to forget.

Addendum 1: it helps that I’m also responsible for giving one of our cats her medication at the same time; so one event acts as a reminder for the other, and vice versa.

Addendum 2: if I do forget, it’s usually because I am under the weather, and my neurological issues are making a temporary appearance - in which case, my Adderall isn’t going to be of a whole lot of assistance anyhow. 🤷🏻‍♀️

During the day, I take omeprazole and an instant-release Adderall. I have alarms set for these; but I’ve also found that if I don’t take them at the exact moment the alarm goes off (or do something to remind myself as soon as I’m able, such as move my phone to the wrong pocket) then I absolutely will forget.

Addendum 3: my spouse will kindly follow up a few minutes after my afternoon medicine alarm goes off, to make sure I’ve taken it.

I take the other half of my estradiol before I go to bed; which again, happens to coincide with medication time for Old Lady Feline.

…

Everyone is different; and what works for one person might not be true for another. What I’ve noticed for myself however is that:

Taking my medications at home isn’t too much of issue, because (a) they are in a place where I can see them all the time (which is a helpful reminder) and (b) I’m not distracted.

Taking my medications at work is a whole other ballgame; partly because they are out of sight, but mainly because there are too many unplanned interruptions that distract from the task and / or apply unwanted time pressure.

(Which has me thinking: I wonder if I could block out time on my work calendar for taking my medications; and more critically, set my availability to “Do Not Disturb”? 🤔)

Alright I'm terrible at waking up to take my meds on time and I'm not sure if it's OCD, ADHD, or just my fatigue. So anyone who has this or a similar problem,

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

Dueling thoughts

Alas, though a known quantity, the spouse, daughter and I are all experiencing side effects from our second COVID vaccine dose. It’s the usual suspects - chills, fever, muscle aches, injection site soreness. It’s on par with getting hit with a really bad cold - much worse than one normally would expect from a vaccination; but manageable.

Mentally, it’s not been great. Every sting, every twinge reminds me that this is happening; and that gives the very irrational and truculent part of my psyche - the part where my wounded, child self lives - reason to fire up.

I came back last night from an errand; and having arrive home, just sat in the car and sobbed. In that moment, I was able to watch the two halves of my - child and adult - argue in real time:

“Why did they put this in me?” “Because it’s good for us. It will protect us, and others.” “Please, please take it out. Please.”

Adult me knows that this is undeniably the right course of action; for myself, for my family, for others, and ultimately for the entire human population. This is the only humane way we have out of this crisis.

Child me does not care; this suffering was forced upon her (even if only be necessity), and she rejects it wholeheartedly. It’s probably going to be at least a good week before she quells down; and in the meantime, I can expect plenty more crying fits and other associated behaviors.

More generally - this far from unique to myself; but I have so much anger for the people that mishandled the pandemic, irresponsibly exacerbated matters, damn near killed my best friend and most certainly killed millions of others. Lives were stolen; for the rest of us, precious time. I don’t know if it will come, but there most assuredly needs to be a reckoning when all of this is said and done.

Ramen

During the initial months of quarantine, the tent pole of my day was making ramen for lunch. I make no claim that the end product was particularly authentic; but it was a nice way of breaking up the monotony of working from home.

(I will however give a big shout-out to my friend J for teaching me how to make immaculately soft-boiled eggs.)

At this time, my go-to addition was thick-sliced ham - it's a relatively inexpensive and plentiful protein. This also pleased our two youngest cats, who adore ham and would converge on the kitchen on an intercept course for the purpose of acquiring their own cured pork off-cuts.

In due course, I moved on to making other things for lunch and the older of the two - Gracie - took this change in stride and left me to my own cooking devices.

Not Karkat though! She is definition of "High intelligence, low wisdom" - no matter what I am doing in the kitchen, she has determined that it could be at least slightly ham-related.

This is both cute... and rather inconvenient, as her chosen method of communicating her desire for ham is to circle my legs and rub up on them while meowing loudly (which is all good and well until I'm carrying a hot and / or heavy pan).

So... this is my life now. All cooking will, on a go-forward basis, involve delicately stepping around an insane kitten - like some kind of cuisine-themed, cat-based version of a sword dance!

01:38 AM

I should be unconscious right now, but I can’t sleep. I put the distractions aside, and lay down, and close my eyes... That’s when my thoughts catch up with me. You would think that at a certain point, the human body would simply run out of tears to cry; but if there’s a limit, I haven’t hit it yet this evening.

There are almost certainly connections between the different ideas, images, and recollections currently vying for attention inside of my head. I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind however to go mining for insight. Perhaps later.

On Monday, I have my MRI. As tests go, it’s fairly mundane; the most prevalent complaint is that you are required to stay still for a long time inside of a loud, clunky machine.

The MRI is to be conducted both with and without contrast. This means they will need to insert an IV catheter at some point, and inject a special fluid that the scanner can detect.

I’ve had my blood drawn plenty of times. I had an IV last time I was in the ER. (It was certainly annoying; but no more painful than the aforementioned blood draws.) However, my mind continues to gravitate towards - and get stuck on - this step.

I think perhaps it’s because I’m coming to realize that what rattles me most is the perception that I am no longer in control of a medical situation. The more steps required in a given appointment, the more likely the providers will have an efficient operation going, the more likely they are to maintain a pace faster than I am comfortable with.

Last week I had my nerve conduction study / electromyograph performed.

The nerve conduction study was first. I had a very nice technician; a young man named William. He listened to me earnestly when I explained my anxiousness; and did exactly what I asked: took his time, explained everything, and was honest with me about any discomfort I might experience.

Prior to the test, I had been instructed to wear clothing that would leave my arms and legs easily accessible (e.g. t-shirt and shorts, weather permitting). I settled for a sleeveless shirt and skirt that could easily be hiked up as necessary.

Apparently I chose poorly, as William provided a blanket which which I could cover up and prevent my thighs from flashing immodestly. We actually had a really nice conversation about it; where he explained that this was de facto policy for female patients, and I noted that I wasn’t opposed, merely surprised... Because my experience to date had, of course, been so different.

The test primarily consisted of William applying electrical shocks in various places; and measuring the corresponding signals reaching the ends of my extremities. He described this process as “More annoying than painful”, and that’s an assessment that (barring a few full-power shocks) I agreed with.

(To his credit, William had himself been shocked many times as part of his training; and was both sympathetic and informative as a result.)

After an hour of this, William subbed out and the neurologist subbed in; tasked with performing the electromyograph.

At the end of my ER visit, I was referred to the Neurology department; and forewarned that they would most likely want to order this test and that they were sorry it was so uncomfortable. I had similar conversations with my own provider, and the nurse practitioner I saw at Neurology.

The entire time I was thinking to myself: “How bad could it be”? The information I could find online explained that the test was conducted by inserting a needle into various muscles; although not particularly fun, this was no worse than my usual intramuscular injection regimen. Likewise, I undergo electrolysis every two weeks - surely that was the high bar for outpatient-induced pain?

Ah, well.

The neurologist very kindly ensured that I was prepared and had forewarning, and then inserted the needle in the muscle between my thumb and forefinger. I determined later that the needle was conical in design; which made for a less traumatic wound, but also perhaps more discomfort on insertion. Regardless, it was bearable.

I was not prepared for the next step: the neurologist had to move the needle about; not unlike swinging a television antenna around the room in search of better reception. This had me gritting my teeth. On top of that, I then had to flex the very muscle the needle was in; to take more readings.

This process took what felt like a couple of minutes; and once done, he proceeded to measure a muscle in my forearm, and then my bicep. After that it was the front of my shin, the calf muscle, and my upper thigh.

Again, he was very concerned with my well-being; but also rightly discerned that I was more interested in getting the test over than taking a break - so we powered through. Thankfully, as no issues were found on the left side, it was not necessary to proceed to the right.

I burst into tears as soon as I was outside. I can recall only one other time when a medical provider induced such pain that I was white-knuckling the surface of the exam table: after I inadvertently cut my finger open as a young teen; and the attending doctor had to examine the wound (and by extension, manipulate it while his assistants sprayed saline and whoever knows what else in there).

I didn’t think it affected me that badly; but I had to do my shot yesterday, and it was so hard. My hands were trembling, and on my first attempt, the needle barely even pierced the surface of the skin - I was that afraid of how much it could hurt.

Tomorrow I see my therapist. Our last appointment was, unfortunately, cancelled; so it’s been a while. We’ve been working on all the pent-up misery associated with my pre-immigration medical. That’s another subject swirling around in my head; and likely the root of a good portion of what I’m dealing with at present.

I was railroaded; moved through a medical assembly line like a non-person. Every time I feel as if there’s even a slight possibility that might be happening again, it all starts to come back - fear; the belief that I can no longer protect myself; that I am a target of contempt.

That brings me full circle; back to my upcoming MRI. There are several possible outcomes to this test: the best outcome, of course, would be that nothing of note is found. (This would suggest that the majority of my symptoms to date were caused by inflammation of my neural and nervous tissue; and as the inflammation naturally abides, so too will the symptoms.)

Another possibility is that I might have suffered a rare complication in which one’s own immune system attacks the nervous system. This is slightly more concerning, as one of the defining characteristics is permanent lesions of the white matter of the brain.

There is a third and final possibility: that the virus triggered a minor stroke. Such a thing would be unusual for a person of my age; as with so many other rare phenomena however, COVID has demonstrated exceptionally rare complications are surprisingly common once you are dealing with a virus that thinks little of the blood-brain barrier.

As you can imagine, two of the outcomes are terrifying in terms of their lifelong implications.

I’ll have my answer after Monday. For now, I’ll go back to ruing the godforsaken system of wealth transfer this country mockingly refers to as ‘health insurance’; knowing that I could have most likely had my results in hand much sooner if it wasn’t so absolutely vital to consult a third party on whether or not it was actually medically necessary to treat me.

02:35 AM.

Time to try again.

Coming out

I have come out to a great many people these past eighteen months; and I have been fortunate in that there have effectively been no negative reactions. (I know too many people that have not had the same experience, and my heart bleeds for them.)

There were two instances where I was genuinely terrified of how the other party might react. The first was my spouse - not because I thought for a second that they would respond poorly, but rather because I felt that I was unilaterally introducing an enormous life change into a relationship that I value beyond estimation.

(Of course, I should not have worried - they accepted this new state of affairs immediately. That’s the kind of amazing person my spouse is.)

The second was my friend and colleague of fifteen years; a fiercely intelligent and analytic man of few words. He is an émigré of the Soviet Union and as such holds very different views from myself in many matters; including, I feared, the subject of transgenderism.

Again, I should not have concerned myself; as he delivered an answer that in one sentence perfectly encapsulated the man’s outlook, brevity, and uniquely blended mode of English and Russian speech.

“Ah, well; that’s just your decision.”

To those unaccustomed to his way of speaking, it might sound harsher than intended; but on the contrary, this was one of the greatest endorsements I could have received and remains a highlight of the coming-out process: “Hey, you do you”.

Cellulitis

For the uninitiated, cellulitis is a bacterial infection under the surface of the skin. It isn’t so bad by itself - some redness, some swelling - but by virtue of being trapped below the surface, it often takes medical intervention to clear. Additionally, if untreated, it can lead to some nasty and potentially fatal complications (like necrotizing fasciitis and blood poisoning).

I’m familiar with the premise as a couple of years ago I had a bout on my kneecap thanks to - of all things - the tiniest of ingrown hairs; one course of antibiotics and all was well in the world.

Until. Until.

As I have reported previously, my first few months of Estradiol shots went well (barring a period of psyching myself out). Thereafter, everything was good... Until the day I got a big, red, ugly patch at the injection site.

“Oh,” I say to myself, “I’ve really screwed up”. I fastidiously ensure that my medicine vial, needles, and leg are sterile; but evidently somewhere along the way I missed a step.

I went to see my family doctor; he agrees that it’s cellulitis (even deeper than normal as the bacteria was fundamentally injected an inch into my thigh muscle), proscribes doxycycline; and I’m on my way. (There was a slight detour where I suffered the most agonizing heartburn of my life in response to that particular antibiotic, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Fast forward: next shot, and the same thing happens. Like an idiot, I suddenly realize: “I’m using the same vial of Estradiol as last time; and it’s contaminated”.

(I should have thrown it out as a precaution; but the cost of American healthcare tends to breed a conservationist approach to medications. Plus, it honestly didn’t occur to me at the time.)

My doc probably thought I was an idiot but thankfully did not offer his opinion.

I bought more Estradiol, and was perhaps three shots into the new vial WHEN THE SAME THING HAPPENS AGAIN.

And I’m in tears. I don’t understand what it is I’m doing wrong; there’s so much surplus alcohol on my skin that the needle burns going in. There’s simply no way I can carry on with an injection regimen that results in an infection each and every time.

Thankfully, in this particular instance, it was a very small instance of cellulitis and cleared by itself. I was pretty shook up all the same.

My next best guess was that the Estradiol was being stored at the wrong temperature. It’s supposed to be at room temperature (which is classified as something like 68 - 75º F). I kept my medicine in our bathroom closet; and while I checked the temperature in there and it never seemed over range, the closet does back directly only the location of our furnace.

I also asked my endocrinology clinic if I should be storing my Estradiol in the refrigerator, and their answer could be summarized as: “IDK, maybe? It’s worth a try”.

(This isn’t an attack on them - they are great! As much as I wish it were otherwise however, trans individuals represent a small slice of the population. Medical provider experience is directly proportional to the sort of ailments they treat; and Estradiol storage issues are not something that commonly end up on their radar. This is one of the reasons why it’s so important for trans folk to become experts in and advocates of their own medical needs.)

Anyhow, I moved the medicine to the bedroom and so far, that seems to have done the trick!

My reason for mentioning this however is as follows: yesterday, post-injection, I had some major soreness in my thigh (as if someone had punched me right in the muscle). Most likely it was just regular, garden-variety soreness; but the sensation was close enough to the early onset of cellulitis that I seriously started freaking out.

Thankfully it’s calmed down today, and there isn’t a patch of redness in sight. Still: the trials and tribulations to go through!

I went the injectable route at the advice of a friend; and I always wanted to share my knowledge on this subject with others. Talk about perfect timing, too - it’s injection day!

Disclaimer: there’s a lot of room for variation in terms of what’s injected, how it’s injected, etc.; be sure to ask for and follow the instructions of your provider.

Medications

I inject 1ml of 5mg/ml Estradiol Cypionate (brand name: “Depo-Estradiol”), every two weeks; and 1ml of 150mg/ml Medroxy-Progesterone Acetate (brand name: “Depo-Provera”) every ninety days.

Keep a diary of your injections; and in particular the manufacturer, lot, expiration, and serial number of every medication (all of which will be clearly printed on the packaging). This information can be helpful when identifying issues.

Vials

Both medications come in little glass vials. There’s a sterile plastic cap on top (which you break off); and underneath, a rubber seal designed to prevent air from entering the vial.

The Progesterone comes in a single-use vial, containing just one dose; you dispose of the vial afterwards. The Estradiol comes in a multi-use vial, containing five doses; you keep the vial for next time.

Note: there is a risk that multi-use vials can become contaminated with bacteria. Be sure to follow the injection process carefully; maintain sterility; and store your medication in an appropriate location and at the correct temperature, per the instructions.

In medical settings, multi-use vials are good for 30 days after opening; at which point they are disposed of. In my case, I’m keeping the vial for 52 days. I wouldn’t recommend pushing too far past that, as the longer the vial is in use, the higher the risk of contamination.

Injectable supplies

Each injection requires the following:

A syringe,

A large needle (mine are 18g, 1.5′ long, and pink),

A small needle (likewise, 25g, 1′ long, and light blue),

Two alcohol pads,

A Band-Aid (mine has llamas on it)!

Normally you’ll be proscribed a syringe with one of the needles already attached; and the other needle by itself. Alcohol pads and Band-Aids can be purchased from your local pharmacy.

Needles

During the injection process, you will need to switch the needle attached to the syringe. The syringes I use feature a “Luer-Lock” connection, which means they screw on and off.

Each needle comes with a protective plastic cap; you always want the cap on the needle when attaching or removing it from the syringe. (Safety aside, the needles are intentionally designed to make them difficult to add or remove without the cap attached.)

There’s a reason there are two needles: when you need to suck fluid into the syringe, it’s very difficult if the needle is too small. (This is why blood draw needles tend to be on the bigger side.) When you need to squirt fluid out of the needle, however, the size doesn’t matter as much. (Plus: smaller needles cause less discomfort when poking people!)

So the big needle is going to be what you use to draw your medication; and the small needle is what you use to inject it. (When I started my regimen, I asked my provider if a nurse could show me what to do. I wasn’t aware at the time that there were different needles involved; so when I saw the big needle, I was terrified!)

Drawing the medication

First things first: wash your hands! (At every step, you want to prevent the possibility of germs getting into your supplies or worse, into you!)

Take your vial, remove and discard the plastic cap, and clean the surface of the rubber seal with an alcohol pad. (This prevents contaminants from being carried into the vial.)

Next, you attach the large needle to the syringe, and withdraw the plunger so that it contains the same amount of air as the medication you wish to withdraw. (In my case, 1ml.) The plunger will have a rubber seal that meets the inside of the syringe surface; the top of the seal is what you will be measuring against.

Hold the vial level, and with the syringe pointing down, insert the needle through the rubber seal of the vial. Now, carefully turn everything upside down: you should have the syringe pointing up, and the vial pointing down (with the medication pooling around the seal).

Inject the air in the syringe into the empty space in the top of the vial; this will help keep the pressure in the vial constant. Submerge the needle tip in the medication, and gently draw it into the syringe.

It’s normal to have some air left in the syringe; or to accidentally draw some in from the vial. You can squirt some medication back into the syringe to remove the air bubbles; or tap the syringe to shake them free. Tiny air bubbles are normal and harmless; but you don’t want a large bubble in there!

When finished, withdraw the needle from the vial smoothly and quickly. (This is a non-issue with thicker medications, such as Estradiol; but with a thinner medication - such as Progesterone - withdrawing the needle slowly can cause a small amount of medication to squirt out of the vial.)

Preparing the injection

Remove the large needle from the syringe and replace it with the small one. Push the plunger ever so slightly; if you see a tiny drop of medication at the end of the small syringe; this confirms that there’s no air remaining.

You should now have a filled syringe, ready to go!

These injections are intramuscular; that is to say, the goal is to create a 'depot’ (i.e. little bubble) of the medication in a muscle. This is exactly the same as most vaccinations; except they are normally delivered in the deltoid muscle of the arm, whereas these injections will be delivered to the vastus lateralis muscle in the upper thigh.

(Location is determined by a number of factors; primarily, the size of the depot being created. Vaccinations tend to involve very small amounts of fluid; and so it is more convenient to inject them into the likewise smaller deltoid.)

Imagine the top of your thigh is divided horizontally into three sections, and you can see the dividing lines. The line nearest your body is the target. It is recommended that you rotate your injection site with every shot. My rotation schedule looks like this:

Outside of the left thigh,

Outside of the right thigh,

Middle of the left thigh,

Middle of the right thigh,

Inside of the left thigh,

Inside of the right thigh.

Keep in mind that some spots are more awkward to access than others. (Today’s injection was in the outside right thigh; as I’m left-handed, having to reach across my body is a nuisance.)

Once you know where the injection will be going, clean the area with your other alcohol pad. Give it some time for the alcohol on your skin to evaporate. (You can fan air over the skin to speed up this process.)

If there is still alcohol on your skin when you perform the injection, it will be carried into your tissue and create a burning sensation. This is not dangerous; but it is unpleasant and something you will want to avoid.

Inserting the needle

Everything is ready! (Also, there are no images for this part; I needed both hands here for what I was doing.)

Sit on a chair or similar object, so you can your thighs are horizontal and your lower legs vertical. Find a position where your muscles are relaxed. (Tense muscle tissue is harder to penetrate; it won’t stop you from completing the injection, but it can cause more discomfort.)

Take the syringe in your dominant hand, and hold it like a throwing dart. With your other hand, pull the skin of your thigh taut, towards your knee. (This is the “Z-Track” method - it helps to prevent your medication from leaking back out of the injection site.) Take care not to place your fingers on the area you just cleaned.

Now, the part that gets people: you have to stick the needle in your thigh. Understandably, there is fear that this will hurt. It’s okay if you need a minute to work up the courage! Try to keep in mind that if you do everything right, discomfort should be minimal.

When you are ready: stick the needle in, quickly and smoothly, at a 90º angle.

Do not hesitate. (I totally get it - but if the needle doesn’t fully insert, you’re either going to have to push it the rest of the way, or remove it and try again. The faster and more confidently you insert the needle, the less you will feel it!)

Don’t worry about it going too far in. There’s a plastic nub at the end of the needle, designed specifically to prevent this from happening.

If everything has gone to plan, then the needle should be fully inserted in the thigh, and no longer visible. You can now remove the hand holding your skin taut. (This can feel a little weird at first, as the underlying tissue is trying to move back into position against the needle.)

Delivering the medication

With one hand, hold the tip of the syringe steady against your skin (so that you don’t accidentally withdraw the needle). With the other, slowly depress the plunger, injecting the medication into your muscle.

How slow? Slow. Nursing guidelines recommend ten seconds per 1ml of fluid injected. I normally double that. (Also: as aforementioned, Estradiol is frequently delivered in an oil-based medium, which makes it thicker. Thicker fluids take longer - and more effort - to push through a small needle. When in doubt, go slower.)

Cleanup

Once the medication is fully delivered, carefully remove the needle, and place the cap back on. You might see a drop of either medication or blood at the injection site; this is normal. Cover with a Band-Aid. You’re done!

Place both of your capped needles in a solid container. (I use an old prescription bottle.) This way, when you dispose of them, there’s no danger of someone getting poked by a used needle.

All other supplies should be disposed of (barring the aforementioned multi-use vials). Tempting though it might be to save time and money, do not reuse syringes or needles. (This is just asking for an infection!)

Aftercare

It’s normal for the injection site to be sore the next day (as if you had an invisible bruise). This is because the act of creating the bubble of medication in the muscle does a small amount of damage.

It’s not normal for the site to swell; turn red; itch; or become hot to the touch. These are signs of an infection. Such infections are easy to treat (usually with a course of antibiotics); but it’s important to seek medical attention quickly, as they can cause serious complications if left unattended. (This is especially true of the red patch grows rapidly!)

What can go wrong?

I’m not going to lie: lots of things.

A couple of times, inserting the needle has triggered a leg spasm. This doesn’t hurt; it just feels really, really weird.

Occasionally I will accidentally hit a blood vessel with the needle. (This is unavoidable; you can’t see them from the surface.) This doesn’t pose an issue other than being mildly painful.

I once hit a nerve the same way. The pain from doing so left me in tears. (I want to stress however, that this happened once in fifty-seven shots.)

There was a syringe with a defective plunger that wouldn’t depress the whole way. That was frustrating; but simply meant I had to start over and go again.

Likewise, I had a friend whose needle detached from the syringe while it was still in her thigh. Obviously, an upsetting scenario; but one that can be avoided by ensuring that the needles are firmly locked into place prior to use.

If you have questions or issues, and need help - be sure to ask to talk to a nurse at your provider’s office! They spend a lot of time poking people in various ways, and have a wealth of expertise to offer.

Another really resource is trans men! The amount of information they’ve gathered on the analogous act of injecting Testosterone is staggering! When I run into a problem I’ve never seen before, they are my first port of call.

What can go right?

If you perfect your technique and can overcome the mental hurdle of sticking a needle in yourself, the process can be quick and discomfort-free!

On the science side: different methods of administering Estradiol have corresponding levels of bioavailability (i.e. how much of the Estradiol actually ends up in your system and doing what it’s supposed to instead of, say, accidentally being digested). Of these, intramuscular injection has the highest degree of bioavailability .

Additionally, the hormone levels of cis women are not static; there’s a complex interplay at work where they rise and fall. Injecting Estradiol every two weeks more closely resembles this cycle than taking the same amount of medication every day.

A final plus: you only have to remember to take your medication fortnightly!

In conclusion

I hope this is helpful to every trans woman thinking about going down the injectable rabbit hole. It can be rather daunting; but if you’re willing to invest the time and effort, it can be incredible rewarding!

why the fuck did I willingly switch to injectable estrogen im fucking terrified of needles

Current song: "By Any Other Name"

Well... That's not great.

Nominally I’m not in the habit of reblogging (nothing against it; I just prefer to create myself) but Nick is not only an incredibly talented artist, he’s also an amazing human being and deserves so much love!

Collection of Nick Robles Nightcrawler, for…uhh…art reasons.