#universal donor

[cumaeansibyl]

Recovery time at the blood center, the computer crashed and they had to try 5 times to get my blood pressure (so when they did get it it was dreadful) but the actual donation went fast because I got big pipes

[er-cryptid]

Type O- blood can donate blood to any blood type. It is the universal donor.

[jana-aych-ess]

WIP - Universal Donor Chapter 1: Five | Jana H-S

Get more from Jana H-S on Patreon

hi tumblr. I have something you might like

it's about psychic vampires

and forcefem

and bloodbags

tumblr likes stuff like that, right

I'm going to start publishing this as a serialized novel thing in the near future. so keep an eye out for that

[cracked-drywxll]

I gave blood a few weeks ago, and they just called me and told me im o neg! Universal donor!

I had to google if they got it right though because both my parents are O-positive, and apparently it is possible. I had no idea!

[this-is-a-love-story-isnt-it]

I donated blood today and even though I’ve done it before a few times, this is the first time I’ve ever felt like 😵‍💫😮‍💨 afterwards. 😴

[ophyliakilledhamlet]

Because now she knew blood as a vessel, a kinship, a group, stream, root, stone.

Robin Morgan, Universal Donor

[alifeinprose]

Universal Donor

My blood is powerful, and my blood is safe. I walk around carrying the gift of life, a gift I would gladly surrender even at the expense of myself. And yet I am driving away from the donation center unable to give a drop, because my body is weak. The irony is crippling, humorous in order to not be murderous. A slew of literary metaphor and embedded symbolism courses through my mind. Picture this character. She of valuable blood, a willing sacrifice, refused because that blood runs too fast and stains too much. The medications that calm the waters of her life rile the blood in her veins. The woman with a burning desire to give someone everything that they want, prevented by the very choices she made to better herself. I scoff. It reads like a dark Wilde tale. 

Ten years ago, the character that shares my name chose my new home, my new life, a future that would lead to me. Her heart raced with anxiety and anticipation. Her mind spun with hopes of being seen, being found. Finally, her game of independence could be defeated by devotion. Oh, how I wish I could show her how much she is, how little she needs. If only I could write to her in her language, tell her that her secrets are my secrets and I have solved some. But truthfully she, young and closed and shy and self-loathing, had more conviction than I. Perhaps she was even stronger than I am. You see she, she could never have contemplated a version of herself that would choose herself over another, would leave without giving, would break a vow older than time. She would not recognize me; I thought it would be for the better, but now I don’t know.

I have lost the right to make a promise. My blood is powerful, more powerful than the rest of me. The rest of me cannot be trusted.

[harry-trumans-dishwasher]

I feel like Red Cross would be enraged if they found out how much of my O- blood I’m wasting through nosebleeds.