#but that's a hot take for when i don't have a migraine and several things im procrastinating on!!

[grishaverse-chaos]

there's a post going round about the way the darkling interacts with the world being influenced by women and specifically baghra having to navigate a patriarchy and I actually have a hot take on this because I don't disagree

but specifically, I think his politics are influenced by what we would now recognise as radfem beliefs about feminism/patriarchy, and idk if leigh bardugo did that on purpose!

unfortunately, his fans carry that rhetoric over into their analysis of him + of Ravka as a whole, and it's been pissing me off

the idea that all otkazat'sya are evil and bigoted inherently....... people saying that the first and second armies could never be integrated....... sounds kind of familiar........

(honestly I see this more in fandom than in canon actually, so, you know, darkling fans please think critically about what you're saying lmao)

[vodika-vibes]

Could I please request a mystic same faces gods au with Echo, I feel like Echo would be the god of the people who are physically and mentally affected by war or something.

I also like that Rex could maybe be the god of survivors guilt a more last one standing type thing, the good and the bad, because I saw you were having trouble writing for him.

No hurry on this I know you have a shit ton of requests, so be sure to pace yourself and don't feel bad for taking time off for writing.

Accidents Happen

Summary: War has swept through your small village. The Imperial army has killed almost everyone. You’re one one a handful of people who managed to escape the slaughter. And now you have to bury your people.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1996

Prompt: Mystic AU - Same faced gods AU

Warnings: Reader survives two massacres

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So it took me a little bit to come up with an idea that I was happy with. And, while I'll never say migraines are good, taking two days off back-to-back seems to have helped me get my mojo back. Anyway, I hope this is close to what you wanted!

It’s hot.

So very hot.

You push a strand of sweaty hair out of your face and then kneel next to the small canoe that you’ve been repairing for the better part of the day. Confident that it’s as repaired as it needs to be, for what it’s going to be used for, you straighten and wave toward a man near the water.

He waves back and then says something to the teenager standing in front of him before he turns and jogs over to you. “This one all set?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s not perfect, but it’ll work.”

He kneels and checks on your work before he nods once. “You didn’t do half bad. Good enough for someone who has never done this before.”

You shrug, “Thanks, I guess.”

He shoots you a sympathetic look, and lightly touches your shoulder, “We’re almost done here.”

“And then what?”

He averts his gaze, “I don’t know, kiddo. I really don’t. But, we’ll make it through this.” He squeezes your shoulder, “Will you go and make sure that the bows are all in working order?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good lass,” He pauses, “We’re going to be okay. You’ll see.”

You’re not sure you believe him. You’re not sure you want to believe him, but you don’t have the energy to argue with him. So you just nod and turn to trudge towards the hunter’s hut.

Three days ago, you joined your uncle and cousin on a fishing trip upriver. It was supposed to be a fun day, you were going to teach your cousin how to repair fishing nets, and your uncle was going to teach him how to find the best places to lay nets, and throw out a line.

A sudden violent storm forced the three of you to take refuge in a cave miles from home. The storm raged for hours, and you were only able to return to the fishing village after your uncle determined that it was safe to get back on the water.

You returned to the aftermath of a massacre. 

Homes burned to the ground, market stalls shattered in pieces, and bodies strewn across the place.

There were no survivors.

But then, when the Empire decides that a place no longer deserves to exist, it’s quickly wiped off the map.

This brings it up to two massacres that you’ve survived since you were born. The first one happened when you were a child, your Uncle had always been a loud adversary against Palpatine and the Empire, and the Empire decided that his whole family needed to die for it.

That time you escaped with a missing arm and severe burns across the majority of your back. Though almost your entire family survived the massacre.

You suppose there was no way you were going to get that lucky twice.

Which brings you to now.

It’s not possible to bury the dead, the village is too close to the water, so the village practices water burials. When done right, they’re beautiful and tastefully done.

However, with only three people, and one of them under the age of 15, these funerals aren’t going to be beautiful or comforting. It’s just going to be another reminder of everything you’ve lost.

And you’ve lost everything.

You stand in front of the Hunters hut, your hands, both flesh and metal, are shaking, and all you want to do is close your eyes and pretend that the last week never happened, and you can open your eyes and your mom will be there again—

But that’s not possible anymore. 

Your mom is dead. Just like your dad. And your brothers.

And you come to the stark realization that you can’t do this.

You drop your hand to your side and then pull your hands to your chest. You can’t do this. You can’t be here. You can’t stay here.

It’s too much. It’s all too much.

With that final thought, you turn on your heels and you run into the forest.

You’re vaguely aware of your uncle and your cousin calling your name, but you ignore them.

Maybe, if you run far enough fast enough, everything will stop hurting. 

You run until your lungs are burning and your legs are aching, and then you keep going. You run and run and run until the moon rises over the horizon and your legs collapse under you.

A roll of thunder jerks you from your spiraling thoughts. Slowly, you push yourself to your aching feet and look around the dark forest, looking for shelter. 

There.

Not far from where you finally collapsed is a massive tree. If nothing else, the branches will offer you some shelter from the weather. Though, as you approach the tree, you realize that there’s a hollow beneath the tree.

It’s risky. Very risky.

But a sharp crack of lightning loud enough to make you flinch encourages you to toss caution to the wind as you carefully lower yourself into the hollow.

The hollow is bigger than you expect.

The tunnel leads deeper and deeper beneath the tree until you trip over a tree root and fall into a room that can only be described as magic. If only because the moment you fall into the room, braziers light up with a warm flame.

Warm in the sense that the moment they light, the coldness that’s sunk into your very bones since the day you discovered the massacre lessens, and you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days.

You shift so that you’re sitting properly, and look around the room properly.

The walls seem to be made up of roots from the tree sitting over you, while the ground feels like it’s some kind of stone.

Most interesting is the bed nestled against the wall. The bed looks clean and the blankets look warm. And, even though the bed looks brand new, it doesn’t look like anyone has been down here aside from you in ages.

Thunder rumbles loudly above you and you nervously bite your lower lip, before slowly walking over and sitting on the bed. It’s softer than you expected, like something from another life, rather than a random bed found under a random tree miles from civilization, and you can’t help but run your hand across the soft, almost velvety, material of the blanket.

When was the last time you had the chance to enjoy something nice like this?

Years, probably.

Surely there’s no harm in sleeping here, just until the storm finishes. Just until you feel better. Until you feel like you can face your uncle without screaming at him for ruining your life.

You kick off your shoes and lay your head on the pillow, burying yourself in the soft blanket and the soft material, and drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had in years.

You wake the following morning feeling more rested than you’ve ever felt in your life.

There were no nightmares, no memories of burning skin or laughing monsters lurking in the shadows. You still feel like you’re in a dream, kind of.

You feel warm, floaty…and safe.

You can’t remember the last time you felt safe.

Slowly you sit up, though you really don’t want to, and you’re about to swing your legs off the bed when you notice the strange man sitting at a table that definitely wasn’t there the night before.

He graces you with a small smile, “Good morning,”

In your experience, a strange man in your sleeping quarters is not generally a good thing, but you aren’t afraid of him. Actually, you still feel very safe.

“...good morning.” You greet slowly.

His smile widens, and you can’t help but notice that he has a nice smile. “Did you sleep well?”

You consider him for a moment, “I did. Better than I have since I was an infant, probably.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He stands, and you note that he has a prosthetic arm, and both of his legs are prosthetics. “My name is Echo, this,” He gestures to the room with his prosthetic hand, “you can call it my temple.”

“Temple?” You ask as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. You notice his gaze drop to your legs, specifically the burn scars on your left leg. Normally you’d toss the blanket over your leg, and make a smart comment about how staring is rude, but you have the feeling that he isn’t judging you.

“Temple.” Echo agrees. He crosses the room to you and kneels at your feet, it feels wrong, somehow, but you can’t quite put into words why it feels so wrong, “I am the Patron God of the innocents who have been irreversibly harmed by war.”

His flesh hand brushes against the scars on your leg, and for once, you don’t jerk your leg away.

“I don’t understand.”

His smile is sad, “You summoned me.”

“I didn’t.”

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, “Unlike my brothers, I can only be summoned under a very specific set of circumstances. Involving physical injury,” He lightly touches his prosthetic hand to yours, “and mental anguish.”

“That’s an awful way to have to be summoned.” You finally say.

He chuckles, “Well, because of the very specific requirements of my summoning, this is the first time I’ve been summoned.”

“I’m sorry, you must have been busy—”

“Not so busy that I couldn’t come when called,” There’s something strangely fond about the look on his face, and you can’t help but reach up and brush your fingers against the ports on the side of his head, “I also admit to being excited to finally having a priestess.”

That should make you nervous, right?

“But I didn’t summon you intentionally.”

“That’s been happening a lot lately,” Echo replies, amused.

“I don’t know anything about being a priestess.” You add with a small frown.

He lightly pulls you off the bed so that you’re sitting in his lap, and his forehead lightly presses against your own. “Close your eyes.” Immediately, and without really thinking about it, you do as he asks. “Good, very good. Do you feel it, cyare? There’s the beginning of a bond—”

He trails off as you find the thin thread connecting yourself to Echo. It’s thin and wispy, like a spider thread, though you have the feeling that it won’t break easily. 

You lightly touch the thread and feel a surge of affection from Echo, and you can’t help the small sigh that falls from your lips. “Is that…you?”

“It is.”

“It feels like it should be stronger,” You murmur.

“It will become stronger, once we solidify the bond.” Echo promises, “That will come naturally, we don’t have to rush.”

You hum softly, although—

“We don’t have to, but you want to,” You notice, as you focus on the bond for a moment. His, slightly flustered, embarrassment washes through you, and you open your eyes to peer at him.

He looks slightly sheepish, “I’d like to get to know you before I take you to bed. Doesn’t mean that I don’t want you, though.”

Slowly you nod your understanding, and then you close your eyes again. Echo makes you feel warm and safe, and you could drown yourself in him if he let you.

His fingers are warm against your jaw, “Can I kiss you, cyare?” Echo murmurs, “I think it’s a good first step.”

You nod once and tilt your head slightly. He leans in and brushes his lips against yours in an innocent kiss, and then he kisses you properly, his hand settling firmly on the back of your neck while his other arm wraps securely around your waist.

Echo breaks the kiss and releases a contented sigh, “I’m going to take care of you, cyare.” He murmurs against your lips, “Everything is going to be alright. I promise.”

And, for the first time since childhood, you believe it.

[isthe-protag-cluelesstho]

Okay, probably not a hot take, but imma scribble about it anyway,

I honestly think Cale Hetinuse/Kim Rok Soo has chronic pain/fatigue.

Like, everybody loves the whole coughing up blood/wet meow meow thing he's always doing, but personally? People who are that nonchalant about Shit Happening To Their Body, are typically people who are waaaaay too used to Fucked Up Shit Happening To Their Body,

It's just a head canon, but as someone who is chronically in pain, I absolutely do some of the stupid shit CH/KRS does, like carrying stuff I should NOT be carrying, or continuing to Do Things even when I should be sitting and resting. I also know several people who (like me) can be experiencing level 4-5 pain and not show a hint on their face/through their actions besides maaaaybe moving a bit slower/stretching more

And we know KRS has been on his own since he was itty bitty... And then he grew up in a world hell bent on killing everyone. I can't help but think that a tiny child with no one to help him with the general cuts/bruises/little hurts of childhood would 1) have zero frame of reference for what "okay" actually looks like 2) probably has never really received medical care beyond emergency assistance (which does jack for chronic conditions) and 3) has NEVER really had someone in his life long enough for them to catch his way of coping with pain (my very close friends can hear when I'm hurting/tired, everyone else only notices if I am visibly incapacitated)

So, Kim Rok Soo ends up in a world/body that "technically" hasn't experienced his life, HOWEVER fibromyalgia and PTSD are like goddamn pb&j. It's a condition that is deeply tied to a body's stress response. And what does Cale say once he has the Heart? "I feel BETTER"

And that just speaks to me of a person who is so used to pain, that it no longer really registers... I had daily headaches for 7 years, it wasn't until I moved and got a new primary that I found out that more than 4 headaches in a month was considered a concern... I got on some migraine meds and actually stopped having that daily headache, something id just accepted as "how my body works" gone,

I personally don't consider pain at a 1-2 as particularly bothersome, it's more like a general annoyance. Onces it's up to 6-7 it's hard for me to move, and yet I often will still do so, despite the pain. It's only at 9-10 so I stop moving entirely and focus on just weathering it. Usually when that happens, I sleep so much after as my body tries to recover.

And when I read Cale, so casually continuing forward, despite the work he takes on himself, after the constant planning and prepping and ass kicking, all I see is a person who has lived so long with his body's suffering that it's just background noise. Yeah, he coughed up some blood, but the pain is back to "normal" so how can he raise a fuss? He killed 3 monsters with a dislocated shoulder that one time, this? This is easy. And despite claiming his body is weak, he refuses to truly accept the help and rest he needs because (like I used to) Cale thinks "this is just how my body works"

Sometimes, I cannot remember how I lived prior to my pain. Sometimes, I cannot imagine a world where I do not spend half the night attempting to force my muscles to relax, so I can actually sleep. I cannot imagine a world where I am able to do everything I want in a day and not collapse at the end. And I see so much of myself in how Cale continues to move despite the weight of the ancient powers, the expectations of the gods and his own personal hopes. He seems like a character doomed to continue walking, his bones broken but refusing the care because whats the point if everything still hurts the same way in the end?

Anyway, Raon should invent a cure for chronic illness and force Cale into a year long sabbatical

[fbfh]

Hi! Do you still write for Logan Huntzberger? If so could you please write about how he would be when his girlfriend gets a migraine? Thank you so much!

HELL YES.

Logan is such a supportive motherfucker. Logan is a moves heaven and earth to ensure that you're content and happy and comfortable and have all your needs fulfilled. In the words of dolly levi, Logan really will insist you just leave everything to him. You don't even need to ask twice, he gets wind that you need or want something, that you need help or a ride or literally anything else, and it's done. He's like a fucking genie or something.

So when you call him one day to cancel your date bc you have a horrible migrane, he doesn't let you feel bad about it for a moment. Before you have a chance to over explain or apologize, he's already on it.

"No, none of that, Ace. I'll cancel our reservations and call you in sick tomorrow, all you need to do is feel better."

You thank him for being so great, and he's overcome with this sense of jesus christ you are so amazing and I hate that you haven't been treated like literal royalty for your entire life, which really just makes him more determined to take perfect care of you.

A while later he shows up at your place with whatever your craving, any medication you need, hot and cold packs, and some light blocking curtains. He speaks in a soft, gentle voice to keep things nice and quiet for you, gets you set up with some tea or a caffeinated drink, and gets you all comfortable. You hear the door to your apartment open again, and he tells you he brought in housekeeping to catch up on any chores that are stressing you out.

"We can't have anything stressing you out and making your pretty head feel worse, can we Ace?" He smiles softly. He lays you down in his lap or against his chest, and rubs your back while you rest until you feel better. By the time your migraine is gone he has several leads on the top treatment and prevention of migraines, the ones your insurance wouldn't cover. Nothing and no one is going to upset you or hurt you, not if Logan has anything to say about it.

[inkybinkyboink]

urinetown headcanons (under the cut) while i wait for my headphones to charge >:)

there are. so many.

hope is a total plant mom

her place is like. decked OUT in plants. they are her pride and joy

just like. assume that they all have water. for now.

bobby does not get it. at all. but he's so supportive

bobby and hope get a puppy together and the puppy is scared of loud noises but so is bobby so when hope vacuums they hide in the broom closet together

officer lockstock watches drag race like an olympic sport. it's his version of like a laker's game or a yankees game or whatever

avid bianca del rio stan and i will die on that hill

no sorry i just gotta take a second to like.

lockstock 100% lives in like. your grandparents house. it's decorated the same way. blankets over chairs and couches, plants, LOTS of books, antiques, that sort of thing. vintage but like. humble?

officer barrel collects coins

you're gonna look at this man and tell me he doesnt collect coins?

you're lying

ms. pennywise is a tea fanatic

lesbian hot blades harry

little sally's favorite movie is Coraline

and she definitely takes apart toys and puts them back together to make little frankensteinian creatures like sid in toy story

lockstock would make a hella cool university english professor

tiny tom believes that the moon landing was faked

hope sews

ms pennywise's favorite book is definitely like wuthering heights or something

personally. i think. as someone who's played barrel. that were he given the opportunity to come to terms with his own identity, he would go and sincerely apologize to everyone he's hurt over the years.

like he probably wouldn't be forgiven, and i don't know if he deserves to be, but i think he would at least recognize the severity of his actions

lockstock taught little sally how to roller skate

little sally has an ant farm kit

caldwell b. cladwell has an eerie amount of world war 1 and 2 books.

mcqueen and millenium marathon euphoria together

fipp collects rocks and minerals

barrel lowkey knows how to cook a good ass meal

little becky two shoes is the type of person who you run into leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette while it's pouring rain and if you talk to her you're getting unskippable lore

kinda like your wine aunt but on drugs

little sally made lockstock a friendship bracelet once

idk i kinda feel like lockstock had a kid once and then they like. passed away or something. i just feel like lockstock has a tragic backstory but i dont know what it is

ma strong gets migraines and it got passed down to bobby

*chants* sick fics sick fics sick fics

ok i have a theory that the amenity numbers correspond with street numbers. so it's called amenity number nine because it's on ninth avenue. that way the numbers also still correspond to the quality of the toilets.

so the cops would have jurisdiction based on where the amenities are. that way it makes sense that they're the only two cops, because they only have jurisdiction in that particular area.

ok im done :)

[kitschykarcass]

On Pain

I have read parts of The body in pain by Elaine Scarry. What I did read was beautifully written and very insightful into the way pain functions as an aspect of human society. I think about pain a lot. It was nice to read something written by someone who also thinks about pain a lot.

Not to go full standpoint epistemologist but I do think there is somethings that people with chronic pain will understand that people who live their day to day without pain just can't. When your body is always screaming at you that something is wrong, you have to listen. I can think of few worse feelings in this world than pain that is both impossible to work through and has no end in sight.

I experienced that kind of pain recently and it was terrifying. It started as a migraine last Monday. I thought I just needed to sleep it off. That didn't work. Then I thought I just needed to try heat, ice, compression, avoiding screens, and sitting in a dark room. None of those worked. By Wednesday, I couldn't think about anything except for the pain and had to leave work.

I thought I just needed to take a hot shower and sleep. Neither of those worked either. Finally, I decided it was time to go to urgent care. When I told them about my then 3 day long migraine that was effecting my vision, I was told to go to the emergency room.

This was bad news because I hate the emergency room. Not that anyone enjoys the emergency room but being a chronically ill and disabled person adds another layer of hell to the experience. The whole time I was not only worried about my physical symptoms but also my long history of medical trauma.

It feels like I have just now started to get a handle on my anxiety. Going to the doctor doesn't make me feel like I am going to die anymore. I knew that this work could be easily undone by one negative experience. Thankfully this did not happen. All of the providers I saw were very understanding.

It was honestly odd to have my pain believed so easily. I didn't have to reexplain myself and say the right words to be believed. The pain scale actually worked in communicating what I needed to say.

I eventually got some meds, fluids, and a CT scan that showed there is nothing structurally wrong with my brain. I was feeling better and ready to go back home convinced that I all I needed was a good nights sleep.

Unfortunately, this assumption was wrong. The pain only got worse and my vison was not improving. I ended up going back to the ER on Saturday night because I needed the pain to stop.

This brings us back to The Body in Pain. A quote from the book that I hear quite often is "to have great pain is to have certainty; to hear that another person has pain is to have doubt.” I am thankfully feeling much better now and reflecting on the pain I felt over the past week. Even having experienced the pain first hand, I still have doubt. I have doubt that it was actually as bad as I think it was.

Pain is a hard concept for me to wrap my head around. I don't like things that can't be quantified and I can think of nothing harder to quantify than pain. Because of my OCD, I live with the consent fear that I am somehow lying to people. Right now, I am afraid that I somehow lied to the providers I saw about my pain.

The funny thing about OCD is that it isn't even really worth going down the rabbit hole of why that line of thinking is wrong. It simply does not matter that I have experienced chronic patellar dislocations since I has in preschool, have had 6 knee surgeries, and have abdominal pain so severe that I am afraid of food. No matter how much evidence I have that I can handle pain, my brain will call me a lair.

So here I am now, terrified that I somehow wasted the time, energy, and resources of ER for something stupid. I know that someday I won't feel this way. I look forward to that day.

I also look forward to the day that I am able to feel anything but anger at the fact that I experiences pain 24/7. I do not believe in any sort of objective morality. This is comforting because while the pain is unpleasant, I do not believe that is morally justified. I am in pain because pain is part of existence. I am in pain because I exist.

-Karli

[jedi-bird]

Recently I wrote up a guide for recognizing and treating heat related illnesses for my family and decided to share it here. DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional and do not work in the field; I did however work outdoors in a physically demanding job in all kinds of weather and had to help several people with heat issues during that time. This is not a comprehensive list, just an overview of what I learned.

Signs and symptoms of heat related illnesses

Heat exhaustion:

Faint, fuzzy, or dizzy feeling either in head or across whole body

Excessive sweating (check temperature if possible)

Clammy or cold sensation while sweating (if you are shivering, this is getting into serious territory and help might be needed. Shivering when it's hot is very bad.)

Rapid or weak pulse (test blood pressure if possible)

Muscle cramps anywhere in the body

Nausea 

Irritability 

Confusion

Heat stroke 

Throbbing headache (see note below)

No longer sweating with a body temp at 103°F or higher

Skin is red or hot to touch or looks irritated or dry

Rapid nonstop pulse

Loss of consciousness or inability to respond to questions or prompts

Vomiting

Delirium or confusion 

Slurred speech 

Excessive thirst or dry tongue or mouth feel

(Note: not all headaches cause pain. Pressure in the head, halos from ocular migraines, or just any odd feeling in the head should be treated as a headache at this point.)

If heat stroke is suspected, call emergency services immediately. Time is of the essence here.

How to treat heat related illnesses 

Again, please note that if heat stroke is suspected, call emergency services immediately. 

Heat exhaustion:

First, start by moving the individual to a cooler or at least shadier location if outside. If you are inside a structure and the humidity is high, go someplace where it is lower (outside in the shade is good, especially if there is a breeze). If you are inside and air conditioning is an option, turn the temperature down to quickly cool off the room. 

Next, remove any unnecessary clothing or covers. If a shirt can be unbuttoned, undo at least the first two or three. Propriety does not matter in emergencies. Roll up long pants to knees and remove shoes and socks. Remove hats, so long as the person is inside or in the shade. If outside with no shade available, put ice under the hat with a cloth between the ice and head. 

Next, provide a glass or bottle of plain room temperature water. This is vital! Do not provide ice at this point! Make them take two to three small sips. Immediately stop if nauseous or if nausea gets worse. 

(Side note: ice water might sound like a good idea but it can be dangerous at this stage. Hold off until the core body temp starts to come down on its own. Water that is too cold at this stage can bring on nausea.)

Take a cloth or a paper towel and moisten it with cool or cold water. An ice cube wrapped in a cloth can also work for this. Run it along the person's wrists, back of neck, forehead, and ankles. DO NOT LEAVE IT SIT ON ANY PART OF THE BODY! This is a trick to help bring the body temp down in a slow and safe manner without causing the body to go into shock (also why we don't give ice water yet). Shock is bad. Stock can kill you. Go slow.

Communicate throughout. Ask simple questions. If they start being unable to answer or appear confused, stop everything and call emergency services. If they can answer, move on to the next step.

If they are starting to feel better, let them have slightly larger sips of the still room temp water. At this point, if they can keep that down for ten minutes, it is okay to start offering food and other forms of drink if possible. Things like fruit juice or cut up cool fruit are excellent. That will get some sugar back into their body in a gentle way and can assist with recovery. Salad or popsicles is also good. Only allow a bite or two at first, slowly increasing if they don't get nauseous. At this point, it is probably safe to give ice water but alternate it with room temp or electrolytes. 

Monitor closely at this point but allow them some space. Keep them in a cool environment with access to lots of water and places to rest. If they stop improving, call emergency services. 

Heat stroke:

Call emergency services.

Seriously. Don't wait. Don't try anything else. Call for help first and follow their prompts. Heat stroke is serious and deadly. Time is of the essence and lingering does more harm than good. 

Side note: if you are unsure which it might be, just call emergency services. Better safe than sorry. A minor heat related event can change very quickly so don't take chances. 

Again. Can emergency services. Do it. 

Medications and heat interactions 

There are a lot of medications that can interact in dangerous ways with heat, so good hydration and keeping environments cool is a must. SSRIs, birth control, and blood pressure medications WILL make you more susceptible to heat illnesses. Treat this seriously. Limit activities during the hours of 11am and 5pm and drink plenty of fluids. A mix of electrolytes, water, and fruit juice are good. Ice in drinks is okay unless you have the above symptoms; to help keep cool though, they are great. Popsicles are also a good way to cool down and have the benefit of being fun. 

Hydration is your friend. If you feel muscle twitches, you are probably dehydrated. Start drinking more and rest if possible. 

Remember, SSRIs (antidepressants) can and will make you susceptible to the heat. Use caution in hot and humid weather. 

Side note: This is not a full list of the types of medications that can make you susceptible to the heat. Please consult your doctor or pharmacist or look at trusted medical sites online for a complete list. 

Heat exhaustion in the elderly 

As we age, we react differently to things so symptoms can change. Older adults sometimes do not recognize heat related illnesses for what they are. They will often start to feel cold when they are actually hot and will instinctively cover up and turn off air conditioning. This is dangerous, as they will quickly overheat and become unresponsive. They will also develop problems faster than someone younger. When in doubt, call emergency services. Again, better safe than sorry.

Making sure they get adequate meals and keep hydrated is essential. Jello is a good option for those who do not like drinking fluids regardless of age. Checking in regularly and asking questions can help so long as they are honest. Remember, with heat related illnesses, we are all trying to protect each other so talk openly and honestly about concerns. Let's all work together to keep each other healthy. 

Additional notes

Keep a very close eye on humidity levels, especially in homes. Houses tend to heat up quickly and because of appliances and sinks, tend to get very humid. High humidity mixed with high heat is deadly. There is a thing known as the wet bulb temperature that measures the ambient air temp by covering a thermometer with a wet cloth. Honesty, it's easier to just get a device that will tell you the humidity of a room. If the humidity gets too high, using fans will only make it worse since they can't cool the room down at that point.  Air conditioning is your only option at that point. Humidity at or close to the same air temperature is very dangerous. 

Lower humidity levels mean the moisture in the air is evaporating, which will help you feel cooler. Higher humidity will kill you especially when the outdoor temp is above 95°F/35°C. Use the air conditioning and if necessary cover up with a light and breathable blanket (something made of pure cotton or pure linen).

If air conditioning is not an option, placing a bowl of ice in front of a fan can help create a cooling breeze. Keep lights and electronics off as much as possible and keep windows covered to keep the light out. A fan placed facing outward in a single window or door can help push the heat out; keep doors to rooms open if doing this to create some airflow.

Avoid wearing polyester based fabrics in hot weather as they will just cause overheating. 100% cotton is best if possible. Loose clothing or thin layers is good. Keep hair tied back and away from the face and neck as much as possible. 

Do not cover your head indoors. Let that heat escape. Fans are good alongside air conditioning but they are not enough alone. 

Hydrate hydrate hydrate!!!! Seriously. Drink more water. Drink more electrolytes. If you feel thirsty, you are already dehydrated. Drink. If you cannot drink lots of liquids for health reasons or you just don't like it, jello and fruits such as melons are great alternatives. 

Major appliances should not be run during the day. Early morning or late evening are the best times. They will heat up the house unnecessarily and make you more prone to heat illnesses. Early or late unless you have no other option is the best choice. Try to pre-cook meals while the sun is down or in the early morning to eat when it is hot if you can. 

Keep all windows covered from sun up to sun down to help keep the heat out. Keep them closed while the sun is out too. Putting a fan facing inward in a window at night can help pull cooler air into the house (remember to turn it to face outward once the sun comes up), but air conditioning is still better so keep it running even if it's a cool morning. It takes too long for it to cool down a house if you wait to turn it on later. 

Keep unnecessarily lights off during the day as they can also heat up a house. Unplug anything not in use or use power stripes with an off button. This also helps keep electrical bills lower so you can run the air conditioning more. AC is your friend if you have it. If not, look for cooling centers available in your area and take advantage of them. 

When in doubt about anything, contact a trusted source. Family, health professionals, emergency services. Things can change very quickly and the whole point of this is to help with prevention. Avoid being outside while the sun is out as much as possible. If something feels weird, call for help immediately. Stay safe. Stay cool. 

[monsterfucker-lisa-swallows]

so on thursday it was decided that i am in fact getting married so i can be an american autistic lesbian in a gay marriage with an english autistic lesbian (thus allowing me to move over there and actually start my life). lots of ideas have been thrown out for the ceremony itself because i will allow no churches (we might get married on a community theatre stage because that is the church i have worshiped in and hell why don't we just do this in new orleans so i have an excuse to go there) but that's not the point of this story that is a separate tangent

my friends decided to celebrate with me by taking me to the tennesee ren faire. we had to wake up early because we don't live in tennessee and would have to drive several hours. we'd bought our tickets a week in advance. we waited several hours in line only to be waved through and told there was no parking and even people who got to the front of the line were posting they weren't getting in because it was "4000 people over capacity"

so i was pissed off and disappointed and overstimulated. autism brain was not having a good time with any of the proposed solutions. it was extreme task switching. not a good.

i was feeling like i was gonna scream at some point or act bitchy or be interpreted as sulking or get frustrated which makes me cry. i knew a meltdown was coming and i did not want my friends to be stuck in an hours long car ride with me during a meltdown. i've purposely never let them see me when i get that bad.

so i took a small portion of an edible. not even half of it. a very small portion. it was a new brand that i haven't tried before and i was anticipating just a low dose of cbd to bring back my equilibrium. within a short time i was sitting in that car, increasingly becoming less and less aware of my surroundings and could not tell if i'd been there for minutes or hours on what became an impromptu trip to nashville. when we got out of the car to go into a restaurant, the name of which i cannot recall, i had to convince my body to work. i could not focus on reading the menu so i just ordered the same hot chicken sandwich my roommate did. i was given a drink cup. i did not fill it. i knew if i got up i would fall down. i ate to try to soak up some of the chemicals. ate an entire hot chicken sandwich and fries without a drink. barely was able to throw it the container away later.

we got in the car. an infinity later i forced myself out of the car and followed my roommate down a nashville street. i didn't know where we were or where we were going. but i followed. it was becoming hard to step across the street. we got to the steps of old smokey and i said i needed to sit. and i was down. not unconscious, just down. one of my roommates got the car while the other sat with me. we went to park somewhere. i threw up (my roommate luckily had barf bags she collects during hospital visits). i've never thrown up while high before but it was better than being drunk because it was only the once and i didn't remain nauseous. i had entered full autistic shutdown in the middle of nashville while trying to avoid an autistic meltdown.

i've had shutdowns before. never in public like that. meltdowns are almost preferable because i can still talk and can storm off as needed. when i shut down i'm just gone. my mind is rebooting to install updates. it normally happens with migraine, but when it doesn't it is a clear sign that i've made myself too stressed out. i was trying too hard to be flexible, so i broke.

i learned today that what happened was because i accidentally took delta 9 instead of the usual cbd i take. i've rarely taken delta 9 and never in so high a dose. i still don't fully blame the delta 9 because i think i was trying too hard to deny myself as a disabled woman and my body said fuck you and made me react anyway.

but the incredible thing is that no one was mad at me through that. if i didn't smile big enough on a trip as a kid, i would be yelled at for ruining it for everyone. but my roommates are autistic and one is also severely chronically ill. they've been there. so they just took care of me and are totally normal about it today. one of my roommates kept checking on me on the drive home, just insisting on any small sign of life. and i was happy to give it since i never lost consciousness. this signaled to my roommates that i was fine. if i'd needed a hospital i'd either say so or pass out. as chronically ill themselves, they knew better than to take me to a hospital when it is something i could just recover from.

i also learned today that everyone i was with had wanted to go home after the ren faire debacle because our autism brains were too upset about it but we were all holding on for everyone else. "well we're close to nashville, we might as well salvage the night" and no one was saying no because none of us wanted to be the unfun one. it's very clear that we're all autistic and chronically ill because we're used to minimizing our symptoms for fear of "ruining everyone's night" when all of us are fine to just go home. i was just the excuse to go back. one of my roommates had said before i went down she was wondering which one of us would break first. my money would've been on me and her tbh like we waited til the other two were out of the car before admitting to each other that we were pissed off and about to cry and rage quit. the two chronically ill girlies were always going to be the ones who fuck it up.

what's the moral of this story? that having disabled friends rocks because no one gets mad at you when you can't handle things? sure. that you should exercise caution when using delta 9 and never use it in public to avoid a meltdown because that will make the gods pull the plug in each of your mitochondria, draining you of all energy as you're climbing the steps of a distillery? yes, and you should know it literally felt as though that pit in my stomach had turned into a black hole and pulled me into it and now i cannot talk but at least my corset is keeping me upright just try not to puke on the nice skirt your roommate custom made for you using a $3 thrift store curtain. many morals to be found here

so no i did not see the aurora last night.

[sicknessbysalem]

🥀 i’m back!! 🥀

it is a bummer that anons can be so disrespectful over things you decide to write. what ever happened to social educate yk?

was looking at the prompt things you reblogged the other day and it got me thinking. how about sick!calypso with prompts 2, 3 and 4 from angry sickies?

anonymous asked prompt: calypso with a severe migraine? i’d be interested to see how that plays out!

so i saw the prompts you requested and thought it would pair up nicely with this ask!

i love calypso in particular, her and saylor are my favorite character types to make sick (emiliene is a close third). so i had a little too much fun with this request.

if you have any requests, comments, questions, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw emeto, migraines, i think that's it?

also cw for pageantry at the beginning, its one of the many things callie is forced to do.

The first light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains of Calypso’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the vanity where she sat. The air was still cool, carrying with it the promise of a summer day that would grow hot and bright, but for now, it was serene.

Calypso’s reflection stared back at her, the familiar face framed by loose waves of dark hair that she would need to tame into something more elegant before the pageant. Her hands moved methodically as she applied a base of makeup, but her mind was elsewhere, focused on the sharp, persistent throb beginning to pulse behind her eyes.

Even the gentle morning light, usually so welcome, was too much for her today. It pierced through her skull like tiny daggers, making her squint against the brightness. A dull ache settled at the base of her neck, threatening to creep upward and tighten its grip. She knew this feeling all too well—a migraine was looming, just waiting for the right moment to strike, and she wasn’t sure how long she had before it would take her down.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Not today. She had a beauty pageant to compete in, a carefully crafted persona to uphold, and later tonight, she and Cassius had a show to perform. The thought of their act brought a small frown to her lips.

She couldn’t afford to falter now, not when so much was at stake. Calypso was the multi year reigning queen of the fair's pageant, their shows always drew in a crowd, and there was no way out of that. Out of any of it, really. She was determined to push through, to make it to the evening, no matter how much her head ached or how nauseous she felt.

A soft knock on the door broke through her thoughts, followed by the creak of the door as it opened. Cassius stepped in quietly, his presence as familiar as her own reflection. She could see in the mirror that he looked stable. He didn't look more exhausted than usual. He actually looked fine. It made Calypso smile faintly, forgetting for a moment about the tension in her neck and the sensitivity in her head.

“Calypso,” he said softly, moving closer, sitting on her bed and looking straight at her in the mirror. “You don’t look well.”

She forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, that's ever so kind of you Cassius,” she replied, her voice gentle but teasing. “Did you sleep at all? I know you weren't feeling so hot after the show.”

Cassius ignored her deflection, his brows knitting together, studying her with that unnervingly perceptive gaze of his. “First of all, yes I did. Second of all, it's the weather, I don't process temperature correctly but my body does and I got overheated. But third, even if I hadn't, we aren't talking about me. This isn’t about me. You’re pale, and you’re squinting at the light. Is it your head?”

Calypso sighed, her resolve wavering under his scrutiny. “It’s nothing,” she insisted, though even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. “Just a little headache, that’s all. I’ll be fine. I probably just need some water.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You don’t have to do this today, you know. We can find a way to—”

“No,” she interrupted, more sharply than she intended. Softening her tone, she continued, “I have to do this, Cassius. We have to. People are expecting us. Besides, it’s just a pageant. I can handle that.”

She tried to focus on applying her eyeliner, but her hand shook again, the brush slipping and leaving a dark streak across her lid. She cursed under her breath, frustration bubbling up alongside the pain in her head. Cassius reached out, gently taking the brush from her hand.

“Let me,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As he carefully corrected the mistake, Calypso closed her eyes, grateful for the brief respite from the light. The pain was growing worse, a throbbing that was now accompanied by a sickening wave of nausea. But she bit back the discomfort, focusing instead on her brother’s steady hands as he worked.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” Cassius murmured as he finished. “It’s not just a pageant or a show tonight. It’s your health, Calypso. You need to take care of yourself.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his worried gaze in the mirror. “I am taking care of myself,” she said, trying to sound confident. “I’ll be fine once I get through today. And you—you need to rest too. You look exhausted.”

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re deflecting again.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, her own smile a bit wry. “But I’m serious, Cassius. I’ll be okay. Just… be there with me tonight. We’ll get through it together, like we always do.”

Cassius nodded, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. He could see through her bravado, knew the signs of her migraines just as well as she knew the signs of his own ailments. But he also knew his sister’s stubbornness, knew that nothing he said would change her mind. So instead, he resolved to be by her side, to support her in any way he could.

"I can bring some peppermint oil," Cassius says, "I'd grab some now but I figure you don't want that."

Calypso nodded as she turned back to the mirror, trying to steady her breathing and push back the pain. Cassius hovered nearby, ready to catch her if she faltered. The day was only just beginning, but already, it promised to be a long and difficult one. But they were in this together, as always. And together, they would face whatever came their way.

-

The fairgrounds buzzed with activity as the day progressed, the air filled with the sounds of laughter, distant carnival music, and the calls of vendors selling their wares. The smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and fried food wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass.

It was the kind of day that should have been perfect—sunny but not too hot, with just enough of a breeze to keep things comfortable. Yet, for Calypso, the brightness of the sun seemed to pierce straight through her skull, each sound a hammer striking the inside of her head.

The pageant was being held in a large, open-air pavilion draped in festive banners and twinkling lights. Contestants milled about backstage, some chatting nervously, others adjusting their gowns or rehearsing their talents one last time. Calypso stood apart from them, leaning against a wooden support beam as she tried to steady herself, shuffling her show cards.

The soft, persistent throb that had begun in the morning had grown into a relentless pounding, as if her brain were being squeezed by an invisible vice. The light filtering through the cracks in the pavilion’s roof was too bright, making her squint and wince with each flash of color or sparkle of light.

But she couldn’t afford to let it show. Not here, not now. She had worked too hard to get to this point, had crafted her persona with painstaking care. The glamorous, unflappable Calypso—the sorceress who could dazzle with a wave of her hand, who could command a room with a single look—had no room for weakness. She had to keep it together, had to maintain the facade, no matter how much her head screamed for relief.

Cassius hovered nearby, a silent shadow, his eyes constantly flicking toward her, concern etched into every line of his face. He had tried to persuade her to drop out, to rest, but she had brushed him off with a sharpness she regretted now. She didn’t have the energy to apologize, though, not when all her focus was needed just to stay upright.

“Next up, contestant number seven—Calypso Delacroix!”

The announcement rang out over the loudspeakers, sending a jolt of pain through her skull. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to straighten up, to plaster on the confident smile that was expected of her. The crowd’s applause was a dull roar in her ears as she stepped out onto the stage, the bright lights blinding her for a moment. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, and forced herself to walk with the smooth, graceful stride she had perfected.

The gown she wore was a deep, midnight blue, the fabric shimmering with every step. It hugged her figure in all the right places, flowing down to the floor in elegant waves. Her hair was pulled back in an intricate style, loose curls cascading down her back, though even the weight of her hairpins seemed to add to the pressure in her head. But she held her head high, her posture perfect, as she moved to the center of the stage.

The talent portion of the competition was always her favorite. It was where she could shine, where she could let her magic take center stage without revealing too much of her true abilities. Today, though, every movement felt like a struggle, every flick of her wrist sending a fresh wave of pain through her skull. She began with a simple illusion, making a rose appear from thin air, its petals a deep, velvety red. The audience gasped in delight, the sound muted and far away to her ears.

She followed it with a series of illusions, each one more intricate than the last. A butterfly appeared from her palm, fluttering its wings before vanishing in a puff of smoke. The crowd was enraptured, their applause a distant, almost indistinguishable murmur in her foggy mind.

But with each illusion, the pain grew worse. The effort of focusing her magic, of controlling the flow of energy, was draining her faster than she had anticipated. Her vision blurred around the edges, the lights on the stage turning into blinding halos that made her want to squeeze her eyes shut and retreat into darkness. But she couldn’t. Not yet. The performance wasn’t over.

Calypso didn't like to cheat. But she had to, or else she might lose. And losing meant terrible things for her, it always did.

She forced herself to continue, her movements more deliberate now as she fought to keep her balance.

The audience gasped in amazement, the sound like static in her ears. But the strain was too much. Her stomach churned, nausea rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to maintain the illusion.

She had to finish. She couldn’t let them see her falter.

With what felt like the last of her strength, she managed a final, sweeping bow, the audience erupting into applause as she did. The sound was overwhelming, crashing into her like a wave, and she barely managed to keep her smile in place as she straightened up.

As soon as she was off the stage, the mask dropped. She stumbled slightly, her vision swimming, and Cassius was there in an instant, his arm around her waist, steadying her.

“Calypso,” he whispered urgently, his voice filled with worry. “You need to sit down. Now.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, though the words felt thick and slurred in her mouth. She wasn’t fine—she knew that. But she couldn’t let it end here. Not when they still had the show tonight.

“You’re not fine,” Cassius insisted, his voice low but firm. “You’re shaking, and you’re pale as a ghost. Please, Calypso, let’s go home. You’ve done enough.”

But she shook her head, though the movement made her wince. “I said I'm fine. Leave me alone." She snapped.

"Your attitude doesn't work with me and you know it," Cassius said. "Once this is over, let's go home."

"I can’t, Cassius. We need to be ready for tonight.” Calypso said

“Tonight can wait,” he argued, guiding her to a chair backstage. She sank into it gratefully, the room spinning around her. “What’s the point of all this if it ruins your health? You’ve proven yourself a hundred times over, Calypso. No one would blame you for taking a break.”

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall, the coolness of it offering some relief. “I would blame me,” she whispered, the admission quiet, almost lost in the noise around them. “I can’t let it slip, Cassius. Not now. We’re so close.”

Cassius knelt beside her, taking her hand in his. His grip was warm, solid, grounding her in the midst of the storm raging in her head. “We’ll always be close,” he said softly. “But none of it matters if you push yourself too far. We’re in this together, remember? And I need you. Healthy.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. The concern in his eyes was almost enough to make her relent, to admit that she couldn’t keep this up. But the thought of disappointing him, of letting down everything they had worked for, was too much to bear.

“I just need to rest for a bit,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be fine by tonight.”

Cassius sighed, clearly unconvinced, but he nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “Okay. But if you’re not better by then, we’re calling it off. No arguments.”

“Deal,” she murmured, closing her eyes again, hoping that the darkness would bring some relief.

But as the pounding in her head continued unabated, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a promise she couldn’t keep.

-

The announcement of Calypso’s victory echoed through the pavilion, a mixture of cheers and applause filling the space as she stood center stage, the crown now resting on her head. The weight of it felt heavier than it should, pressing down on her already throbbing skull, but she forced herself to smile, to wave, to accept the bouquet of flowers handed to her.

She could barely see through the spots dancing in her vision, but she kept her posture straight, her smile unwavering. The crowd saw a radiant queen, poised and flawless. Only Cassius, standing just out of sight in the wings, saw the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands trembled as she clutched the bouquet.

As soon as the ceremony was over and the crowd began to disperse, Cassius was at her side, guiding her gently away from the prying eyes. The pavilion emptied out quickly, the buzz of excitement fading into the background as the fairgoers moved on to other attractions. Cassius kept a steadying hand on Calypso’s arm, his expression tight with worry as they walked toward the exit.

“You did it,” he said softly, trying to offer some encouragement, but his tone was laced with concern. “But you need to rest now, Calypso. We should head home.”

She shook her head, every movement sending a fresh jolt of pain through her temples. “We can’t go home yet. We need to get to the venue and prepare for tonight.”

“Calypso, you’re not well,” Cassius argued, his voice low but insistent. “You need to rest, or you won’t make it through the night.”

“I’ll rest when we get there,” she snapped, her irritation flaring as the pain twisted in her head like a knife. “Just… let’s go.”

Cassius didn’t argue further, knowing it would only make things worse. Instead, he guided her to their car, helping her into the passenger seat before driving them to the venue where they performed their shows.

The drive was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the engine and the muffled noise of the fair fading into the distance. Calypso leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, closing her eyes to block out the light and movement, but it did little to ease the pounding in her skull.

When they arrived at the venue, Cassius parked and hurried around to help Calypso out of the car. The venue had been an old theater that shut down, the Delacroix bought it and it became their permanent show residency.

Calypso swayed slightly as she stood, but she waved off his attempts to steady her, muttering under her breath, “I’m fine.”

They slipped in through the back entrance, avoiding the front where their aunt and uncle might be waiting. The two of them had been more interested in their performance than the pageant, and Calypso was thankful for that. She wasn’t in the mood for their probing questions or disapproving comments.

“We’ll tell them we’re rehearsing,” she murmured as they made their way through the dim corridors of the theater. “I just need a few minutes to rest.”

Cassius nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. He knew how stubborn Calypso could be, how she would push herself until she had nothing left. But he also knew better than to push her too hard when she was like this. He guided her toward her dressing room, opening the door and flicking on the small lamp beside the vanity, casting a warm, soft light over the space.

“Just lie down for a bit,” he urged, helping her to the small couch in the corner of the room. “Even ten minutes will help.”

Calypso sat down heavily, her eyes half-closed as she tried to block out the light, the sound, the relentless pain. She wanted to argue, to insist that she didn’t need to rest, but the truth was, she felt like she was on the verge of collapsing. Her head was a cacophony of pain, the throbbing now accompanied by a sickening pressure in her temples and behind her eyes.

“I’ll rest,” she murmured, though her voice lacked its usual defiance. “But only for a little while.”

Cassius nodded, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over her. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing, on the coolness of the pillow against her cheek. But the pounding in her head didn’t ease, and she could feel the nausea rising, a slow, creeping sensation in the pit of her stomach. She shifted uncomfortably, her hand pressing against her abdomen as if that could somehow settle the roiling inside her.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open, and Cassius peeked in. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to throw up,” she muttered, her voice tight with discomfort. “But other than that, just peachy.”

Cassius frowned, stepping closer. “Maybe you should try to sleep for a bit longer. You really don’t look well.”

“Can you shut up? My head is killing me,” Calypso snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. She winced immediately, both at the sound of her own voice and the hurt look that flashed across Cassius’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, softer this time. “I just… it hurts so much, Cass. I don’t know if I can—”

“You don’t have to do this,” Cassius interrupted gently, sitting beside her on the edge of the couch. “We can cancel the show tonight. No one will think less of us.”

She shook her head, swallowing against the rising nausea. “No, we can’t. We need this, Cassius. We need the money, and we need to keep our reputation. I just… I need to get through this.”

Cassius sighed, his hand hovering near her shoulder as if he wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure how. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes again, but the motion made her stomach lurch, the nausea hitting her like a wave. She felt her abdomen tighten, a sharp, bloated pressure that she knew all too well. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

Cassius went to push her hair off her face, or give her some form of physical contact comfort, but she batted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me again unless you want me to puke on you,” she warned, her voice strained as she tried to keep the nausea at bay.

Cassius’s eyes widened, and he immediately pulled back, but not before noticing the slight distension in her stomach through the button up shirt and skirt she changed into after the pageant, a clear sign that she was about to be sick. Maybe not right that second, but her stomach always got bloated when she needed to puke, getting more and more distended as if it was filling with her stomach's contents, getting ready to launch them out of her. His worry deepened, but he kept his voice calm as he said, “Calypso, you need to let me help you. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.”

She didn’t respond, too focused on keeping everything down, on not letting the migraine win. But she knew she was fighting a losing battle. The pressure in her head was unbearable, the nausea so intense that she was trembling with the effort to hold it back.

Cassius stood up, looking around the small dressing room for anything that might help. He grabbed a trash bin and placed it within reach, his expression pained as he watched her struggle. “Please, Calypso. Just rest. For me.”

She opened her eyes just enough to see the worry etched into every line of his face, and for a moment, she almost relented. Almost. But then the stubbornness kicked in again, the determination to not let this migraine, this sickness, control her.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, though her voice was barely audible. “Just… just give me a few more minutes.”

Cassius nodded reluctantly, stepping back to give her space, though his eyes never left her face. He could see how close she was to breaking, how much pain she was in, and it tore at him that he couldn’t do more to help. But he knew that pushing her would only make things worse.

As the minutes ticked by, the room seemed to grow quieter, the distant sounds of the fair fading away as the only thing that mattered was the battle raging inside Calypso’s head.

The minutes dragged on in the small, dimly lit dressing room, each second stretching longer as Calypso’s migraine worsened and the nausea roiling in her stomach became unbearable. She had tried to will it away, to force herself to focus on anything but the churning inside her, but every breath she took seemed to feed the sickening pressure in her abdomen, making her stomach bloat painfully.

She shifted on the couch, trying to find a position that didn’t make her feel like she was going to explode, but every movement sent sharp, stabbing pains through her head and intensified the queasiness in her gut. Her stomach felt like it could explode, and every movement made her wince.

Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one accompanied by a soft whimper of discomfort that she couldn’t quite suppress. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms, hoping that the physical pain might distract her from the mounting pressure in her stomach, but it was no use. The migraine had her in its grip, squeezing her temples and making the world blur at the edges of her vision. The room seemed to sway around her, and she had to close her eyes again to keep from getting dizzy, but the darkness behind her eyelids only amplified the throbbing in her skull.

Cassius watched her with increasing worry, his own heart pounding in his chest as he saw her growing paler by the second. Her skin, already fair, had taken on a grayish hue, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead despite the coolness of the room. Every little noise she made—a wince, a soft moan, the faintest hitch in her breath—was like a knife twisting in his gut. He knew she was stubborn, knew she would fight the sickness with everything she had, but it was clear she was losing the battle.

It was when the hiccups started that Cassius was really hurting for his sister. Every hiccup was punctuated by a shaky whimper. He could tell each jolt made her feel more and more queasy and she was losing her fight no matter how hard she was trying.

“Calypso,” he said softly, his voice trembling with concern. “You need to puke. just let it out. You’ll feel better afterward.”

She shook her head weakly, the motion causing her to groan in pain as the pressure in her head spiked. “I can’t,” she whispered, though the words were barely more than a breath. “I can’t let it win. Not now.”

Cassius’s chest tightened with helplessness as he watched her struggle. He knew how much she hated being out of control, how much she despised showing any sign of weakness, but this was beyond anything she could fight through. He could see the way her stomach was distended, swollen with the nausea she was trying so desperately to keep down, and he knew it was only a matter of time before her body took over, whether she wanted it to or not.

He grabbed the trash can and moved it closer to her, his hands trembling slightly as he set it within arm’s reach. “You’re only making it worse by holding it in. It’s okay to let go.”

But she just shook her head again, more forcefully this time, even as her face twisted in pain from the movement. “No,” she insisted, her voice strained and breathless. “I won’t. I can’t.”

She shifted again, trying to sit up straighter, but the motion caused a violent cramp in her abdomen, and she doubled over with a sharp gasp, her arms wrapping around her bloated stomach as if to hold it together. The pressure was unbearable, a tight, burning sensation that made it hard to breathe. Every breath she took felt like it was pushing her closer to the edge, and she could feel the nausea rising, creeping up her throat with a sickening inevitability.

“Calypso, please,” Cassius begged, his voice thick with worry. “You’re hurting yourself. Just let it happen. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.”

But she didn’t respond, her focus entirely on keeping the contents of her stomach where they were, on not giving in to the overwhelming urge to vomit. She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste a distraction from the bile that was inching its way up her esophagus. Her stomach cramped again, harder this time, and she let out a low, involuntary moan of pain, her body trembling with the effort to keep it down.

Cassius hovered nearby, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, desperate to help but knowing there was nothing he could do but wait. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw was clenched so tightly that her teeth must have been aching, and the tears that were starting to gather in the corners of her eyes as she fought against the inevitable. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to tell her that it was okay, that she didn’t have to be strong all the time, but he knew that any touch would only make things worse right now.

Calypso’s breathing grew more labored, each inhale a shaky, uneven gasp that sent fresh waves of pain through her head and made her stomach lurch dangerously. She could feel the pressure building, could feel the bile rising despite her best efforts, and she knew she was losing the battle.

The room was spinning now, the migraine blurring her vision and making her feel like she was trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Her throat burned with the acidic taste of bile, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, as if that could somehow hold it back.

But her body had reached its limit. The nausea that she had fought so hard to suppress surged upward with a force that was impossible to resist, and she felt her stomach heave violently, her whole body convulsing with the effort to expel what she had been holding in. She tried to keep it down, tried to swallow it back, but it was too late. The sickness had taken over, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

With a choked gasp, she leaned forward, her body curling in on itself as the first wave of vomit forced its way up her throat. It was violent, almost brutal, her stomach contracting with such intensity that she felt like she might tear in half.

The contents of her stomach came up in a rush, splashing into the trash can that Cassius had hurriedly pushed under her. She gagged and retched, her body shaking with the force of it, tears streaming down her face as the pain in her head and stomach merged into one overwhelming, unbearable sensation.

Cassius was beside her in an instant, his hand hovering just inches from her back, wanting to comfort her but afraid of making it worse. He moved her hair behind her shoulders, but otherwise kept his distance.

Calypso couldn’t respond, her throat too raw, her body too focused on emptying itself of everything inside. She gagged again, harder this time, her stomach clenching painfully as another wave of vomit forced its way up. It burned as it came, acidic and bitter, and she couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped her as her body betrayed her, as everything she had fought so hard to control slipped through her fingers.

Cassius stayed close, his heart breaking as he watched his sister suffer. He could see how much pain she was in, could hear the agony in every sound she made, and he hated that he couldn’t do more to help. But he stayed with her, his presence a steadying force, a silent promise that she wasn’t alone.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Calypso’s stomach began to settle, the violent heaving giving way to shaky, uneven breaths. She slumped forward, her body trembling with exhaustion, her face pale and streaked with tears. The trash can in front of her was full, the acrid smell of vomit filling the room, but she was too spent to care.

Cassius reached out cautiously, his hand brushing against her shoulder. “Calypso,” he said gently, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s over. You did it. Just breathe.”

She nodded weakly, too drained to speak, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to regain some semblance of control. The pain in her head had dulled slightly, but it was still there, a constant, throbbing ache that made it hard to think. Her stomach was sore and empty, a hollow, aching void that left her feeling weak and vulnerable.

But the worst of it was over. The nausea had passed, leaving her trembling and exhausted, but at least she was no longer fighting against her own body. She leaned back against the couch, her head lolling to the side as she closed her eyes, too tired to do anything but rest.

Cassius was there, his hand still on her shoulder, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm that had just passed. “You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “I’m here. Just rest now. You’ve done enough.”

She nodded again, her body too heavy to move.

"Just breathe," Cassius told her, "You'll be okay."

[cassolotl]

I may be asleep

I've been watching 1899, which has some full-on creepy unreality vibes. I'm sort of on holiday, so when I look out of the window the view is unfamiliar. We've been experiencing a heatwave here for coming up to two months now. And today I've had (I'm still having) a migraine, which makes my head a bit swimmy, and I've had a nap about that, and in combination I feel a little bit unreal myself.

Yesterday we had a few showers of rain for the first time in many weeks. For the UK this is very weird, I'm sure you know that we're known for our precipitation.

This evening, the sun is starting to set. I'm sitting in an unfamiliar window, with a view of some sports fields, and for at least an hour now a flock of seagulls has been grazing in this sports field. Every now and again one will land and another one will take off, but generally there have been about 15 seagulls, just milling around several feet away from each other and apparently ignoring each other, but moving in the same direction together anyway, waddle waddle waddle, peck peck, waddle waddle.

And the reason I noticed was because I was sitting on the sofa, and I glanced out of the window and realised that part of the view had vanished. Some fog is rolling in, and I know all the things are there but it's like some big solid unmovable things are being disappeared.

I'm thinking about yesterday, when I looked out of the window, and the ground was dry, but I said aloud, "it feels like it might rain," and then within five minutes there was the first shower of rain in weeks, so short but so welcome. How did I know? And then later in the evening, it was still baking hot so we had the windows open but it was dark, and I breathed in and could smell that after-rain smell, and I could smell it before I could hear the raindrops. It's an incredible smell, hardwired into us from the dawn of humanity to help us survive by finding water. Smelling the first rain after a long, hot, dry period is a full body experience like nothing else. And since then I've been thinking about how I'm sitting here in my pristine luxury holiday accommodation, breathing in That Smell, and having the exact same emotions and sensations that my ancestors did thousands of years ago, people who would not recognise the flash bastard cars that I can see through this window as I watch the fog engulf whole buildings like they're nothing.

I'm looking at the green field with its incidental flock of grazing seagulls, where in the daytimes humans gather to play unproductively like they've played unproductively for thousands of years, and I think about how huge swathes of the forests of the world are literally burning to the ground or being razed by humans for imaginary numbers that they don't need, and my gaze wanders to the flash bastard cars parked under my window, and I just want to go down there with a crowbar and smash the hell out of them. I could happily never see another car moving ever again.

This morning I dreamt of a room in a dilapidated house being consumed by invisible mould that was toxic to the touch, and I was trying to navigate it in order to destroy it without it destroying me first. The room was rotting around me. I often have strange, vivid, visceral dreams when I have a migraine coming.

The grass in the sports field is short, not because of the grazing seagulls but because of some humans moving numbers around on a screen. I'm thinking about my ancestors who could smell rain within moments of the first drops hitting the ground, and how most of the time I feel like a brain floating around in the head of a body that propels me around, but when I smell that smell I know that I both think and feel with my whole body, and if I met my ancestors from thousands of years ago we'd probably understand each other.

[no-psi-nan]

Didn't see this one coming

(Akechi x Aiura Romance)

4: What's your favorite line of dialogue?

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Real events don't usually inspire my fics but in this case, I did have a migraine while writing a chunk of the migraine chapter lmao!

11: What do you like best about this fic?

It's so much fun to write Akechi and Aiura and their interactions!!

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

^ I made an executive decision to swap questions 14 and 15 in both cases lol.

I actually did a lot of research for this fic because I wanted to portray Akechi with more autistic flavor! It's not the main focus of the fic, but I think Akechi's so heavily autistic-coded that it's an important part of him to explore. I'm no expert and I'm not autistic myself but I did get a sensitivity reader to make sure I wasn't doing anything completely tasteless lol, so hopefully I manage a fun and respectful portrayal there even if it's not super front and center.

Bⓔⓢⓟoke Ψitrus Selection

(Various one-shot lemons)

3: What's your favorite line of narration?

Hey. You are being evil and mean to me by making me try to pick out mostly sfw narration out of a bunch of lemons when you know damn well that I only use narration on an as-needed / ass-needed basis.

VERY WELL. I ACCEPT THE CHALLENGE.

Two rows of maids burst through each bedroom door, and Kuboyasu fights the conflicting urges to jump to his feet for a fight and to cover his naked body with the sheets. True to Saiko's word though, none of the maids seemed to have working vision even as they lay several items on the edges of Saiko's huge bed in perfect sync before turning around in unison and leaving.

For a brief moment, Kuboyasu wonders about Saiko's surprisingly inclusive hiring practices, but then Saiko is unbuttoning his fancy linen pants and Kuboyasu's mind turns towards more important things.

Yeah I had to trim a sentence off at the end, WHATEVERRRRR. It's just that bringing up Saiko's DEI hiring initiatives in the middle of a lemon is so so funny to me.

5: What part was hardest to write?

The Kuboyasu x Saiko lemon for sure. I ran out of steam partway and it sat around for ages. Also it took years to wrap my head around Nendo x Saiki but once I got the right angle, it was actually really fun and easy to write lol.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

IT'S SO FUN TO ME. Love hitting the center of a Venn diagram for hot, funny, and sweet! With a little extra serving of deranged <3

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Yes!! I want readers to realize that there are so many different ways to have a simultaneously healthy and hot relationship, that you should have fun exploring your fantasies and seeing where they take you, and that it's fun and free to write your own deranged lemons lmfao.

GET SILLAY WITH IT!!!! ALWAYS!!!!!!

Thanks for the ask @hillbilly---man!! 💜

[ Context ] <- Still open for these btw!

[vodika-vibes]

Im on my period rn and I have endometriosis so I’m in a lot of pain and I was wondering how Fixer would take care of a reader with severe period pains…I have severe Fixer brainrot…

However if you‘re not comfortable writing something like this I apologize 🙈

Painful Days

Summary: Fixer takes care of you when you're paralyzed with pain.

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x Reader

Word Count: 619

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that this is so short. I get migraines when I'm on my period so I legitimately don't know how people take care of normal periods. I don't like it when people breathe near me when I'm on mine, lol.

You exhale slowly, trying to breathe through the pain of your cramps, as you curl up on your couch.

You’re going to be fine. You always are. But sometimes the pain is harder to ignore than other times. 

And by that, you mean that you can sometimes work through the pain. This, unfortunately, isn’t one of those times.

A particularly sharp stab of pain causes you to grit your teeth and curl around your heating pad. This was supposed to help. The fact that it never has before isn’t important, it’s supposed to work this time.

“The pain medicine hasn’t kicked in yet?” Fixer asks as he smooths his hand through your hair.

“Sure it has.” You say through clenched teeth, “I no longer feel like using a knife to cut out my uterus. That’s a step up.”

Fixer doesn’t say anything for a moment, “Does curling up like that actually help?” He finally asks.

You pout at him, “It does in my head.”

“So that would be no, then.”

“If you’re not going to be helpful-” You say with a glare.

“Ah, I brought a bar of chocolate. As well as some hot tea. But you have to sit up before I give either to you.”

You consider his offerings for a moment, and then decide that they are acceptable gifts, so you slowly sit up. Fixer flashes a small smile at you, and  you feel a surge of affection for him, “Will you sit with me?” You ask.

“As if you have to ask.” Fixer replies as he sets your favorite mug on the table, and then drops on the couch next to you.

You immediately climb into his lap and set your head under his chin, pulling his arms around your lower stomach to hold your heating pad in place.

“Better?” Fixer asks, as he adjusts you slightly so that you’re more comfortably situated on his lap.

You consider everything for a moment, “I’m not worse,” You finally decide, “Which is about the best I’m going to get, I think.”

Fixer reaches around you and grabs your mug to set it in your hands, “Well, it’s not perfect, but I’ll take it. We can order something salty and greasy for dinner tonight. I know that makes you feel better.”

“You hate salty and greasy.”

“There are a lot of things I hate that I’ll put up with because you want them.” Fixer replies easily, “You’re worth it, cyare.”

You smile up at him adoringly, “I love you, did you know that?” You ask.

“You’ve made it glaringly obvious, yes.” Fixer replies as he leans in and kisses the back of your head, “I love you too, you know. Why else would I put up with all of this?” There’s no heat in his voice, though, and you don’t take his words harshly.

You shift on his lap so you’re able to press a light kiss against his jaw, and you smile when he lowers his chin so he can kiss you properly. “You know,” He murmurs, “There is something that I can do to help with the cramps.”

You sigh softly, “Maybe later, when the pain is a little less.” You reply against his lips, “But it’ll be messy.”

“That’s what towels are for. Or just using the shower. Either is fine with me.” Fixer replies. 

You allow your head to thump against his shoulder, “I’ll think about it. When the pain is a little less. Thank you, Fixer.”

“You don’t have to thank me for taking care of you, cyare. That’s my job.” He kisses your temple, and tightens his grip around you. “Drink your tea, it’s going to get cold.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

[starvingtongue]

🔥 my hot take about the roleplaying community ⭐️ my roleplay pet peeves 🔑 my favorite type of threads

My experience in the Roleplaying Community // Accepting! // @ofmoonlily

🔥 my hot take about the roleplaying community

I can't speak for other communities, but the ff rpc feels like it's become a lot more selective, private, and, idk a lot less friendly, open and warm? There's a definite, and very stark, difference between when I started roleplaying in it back in 2013ish, to even back in 2017, not to mention now. I don't know exactly what changed, and I know people still have fun (otherwise what's the point of being here, right?), yes people are older & have more going on, and I know there's been bits of drama with people over the years, but sometimes I really, really miss how it used to be.

People would do crack more often, it feels like people were more willing to do events or joint verses/AUs, try out new muses, stick around for a lot longer, there was a lot less focus on graphics & aesthetics, people would send each other world building questions or anons a lot more. Heck, I know some of them could be problematic as fuck, but Magic Anons were fun as fuck back in the day. Paine got turned into a potato once. I feel like a lot more people were willing to be stupid with their muses, be a lot more open to roleplaying with others within the fandom (and outside of it, I have many a happy thread memory with characters who were from different fandoms than my muse), if that makes sense? Which I guess is the point of crack, but w/e. I'm pretty sure it's me looking back with rose tinted glasses and a nostalgic sense of things, I wish the community was not only large enough to do these sorts of things, but also more willing? idk man, maybe the first step beings with me, but I just miss it.

⭐️ my roleplay pet peeves

I'm sure this has been said several times over, but those really tiny icons that are sized at, like 60x60, that have been so fried by saturation that it's almost impossible to actually see what the icon is. That really drives me bonkers and I don't even have any wrong with my eyes, so I can't imagine how it must feel for someone who suffers from visual impairments or those sorts of things trigger migraines or things like that. Thankfully, I think the rpc has gotten over this trend, for the most part, and a lot of people are reconsidering 'their aesthetic' for those that might be affected by this sorta stuff. But, every so often something'll pop up that'll remind me of it.

🔑 my favorite type of threads

Honestly, it really depends on the muse. For Anima, I really love the softer or more angsty type of threads. Her time in Guadosalam with Jyscal & baby Seymour, her and Seymour's exile and eventual pilgrimage, and then her joining with Yuna. I've really enjoyed threads with her post-X-2, but they don't hit the same. I think it's the same for Tromell as well, or most of my FF related muses & Shachath as well tbh? I feel like the majority my FF muses either aren't really the 'soft' types, and as such, their 'softer' moments are few and far between (Paine, Dona, Leblanc), which is why I love writing the softer moments for them, even if they're still being their normal selves. Or the majority of their plot lines are really angsty (Anima, Tromell, Zanarkand to some extent), and I really love exploring that in threads.

I'm throwing Shachath in here, more on the soft yet angsty side, because they only really appear when someone's dead, dying, or really considering their own demise. I've not written them in a hot minute, but it was really nice having those sorts of threads with people, regardless of how Shachath herself might've been summoned. And Zephyr as well, now that I think about it, cause I'd really like to explore more angsty stuff with her, especially in regards to her losing her sanity & her time at Castle Volkhair.

Maybe soft & angsty threads are my favourite?

And I also really like writing shippy stuff, more so the slow burn & day-to-day aspects of shippy things. But I haven't written anything revolving around shippy-things in forever. I've had 1 ship in all of my blogs, sob, not that I'm complaining or saying people should ship with me more, but I do miss writing it.

[scrapperjoe]

Doesn't making keichos character disabled defeat the original purpose of him?

Yeah this ones a tricky one that's been on my mind. Huge spoilers for talks of abuse and ableism. Keep in mind this likely will not be the best written since its before work and stuff.

Yeah its no doubt that keichos introduction shows him to be verbally abusive towards okuyasu, and holding ableist beliefs at that, which is... Hm, not the best choice for making a disabled character, especially if you consider okuyasu autistic like i do. So why make him disabled?

The original theme of the au was to heal from trauma and abuse, a theme very much in my own life. Id also forgotten "wait cant josuke just heal him" before id put medical research into this so, yeah. Anyways... I thought, "hey, if he wasnt dead, him and okuyasu could willingly work on their relationship together!" Emphasis on willingly. Because keicho has minimal use of his legs and such, in the early days of his recovery he'd have to rely on okuyasu to help take care of him. (By the time keichos finally discharged okuyasus near graduation, don't worry.) The time apart with keicho in the hospital allowed them to rework their relationship in a less heated setting, and having to rely on okuyasu more, someone he once looked down upon, really shifted the dynamic and you can see things are working out more healthily between them while the both of them also seek counselling and had jotaro act as a middle man in the early days of the au. Even when okuyasu becomes a parent, keichos past abuse is NOT swept under the rug because okuyasu has several boundaries set in place such as keicho not being allowed to punish or yell at the kids no matter how fatherly he mat feel towards them. He is still just the uncle, and okuyasu doesn't want them to go through what he did.

And now for what this post is actually supposed to be about! As i mentioned, the aus core theme was different at the very beginning, but does try to tackle many complex themes because i can. And you guessed it, ableism is a hot topic! Ill admit it, i hadnt originally thought of it cause my autism brain thought, "wow, nijimura bros alive!" But as ive done research ive really been cracking down on how to handle this. Ive put in much medical research and what its like to live with what disabilities and conditions he has such as being an amputee, nerve connection issues, chronic pain (i actually live with chronic migraines myself), brain damage, organ transplants, etc...

Making keicho disabled and having josuke heal him was NOT to punish him for his abuse. Not in any way. If anything, it more so puts him in a state where he quite literally cannot run away from his issues and has to actually face them with CHOICE. The spwf faced the nijimuras with whether or not they wanted to stay together or split apart because of their complcated relationship, and they both chose to stay. Anyways... With keichos character who was depicted with low-key ableist veiws, hes undoubtedly going to deal with internalized ableism up the wazu. Im not going to go into way too much detail with that because if you're disabled you know what it's like. But there's a LOT of him trying to overcome it with the years. When they were finally home together for the first time in years keicho finally got to see okuyasus survivors guilt for himself and that was one big hurdle. Keichos self hatred at that time was adding to it and once he saw just how badly it was affecting okuyasu without realizing it, boy that had to freaking change. But every hurdle after that wasn't a hurdle, it was more like climbing steps of a stair.

As we all know, recovery is no straight line. A lot of times people will wish theyll be their former selves, but a lot of times that's an unreasonable desire. Keicho has a hard freaking time accepting that. He keeps pushing himself, wishing his recovery was faster, in turn actually pushing himself back. Over time keicho has to learn his limits which is a very bitter battle. You make advancements but then you go back a bit. With josuke and okuyasu doing so much for the family keicho often feels less than, and like he should be doing more. He pushes himself to do all the chores in the house even if it means puking from his migraines or wearing his stumps to the point the friction in his prosthetics start to bleed. Because we all know keichos as stubborn as a mule. The family is very adamant about getting him to rest, and i know i joke about them having to tape him down to the couch, but this feeling is a very real part of us who live with internalized ableism. Our society is so rooted in production and everything, that it can just be so hard to accept that our brains and bodies are simply incapable of doing certain things... What's more is that with keichos fluctuating condition its hard for him to keep a job. But even when he feels like crap, the family reassures him. Cause when your body won't let you do much more than bring up laundry without being in immense pain, or can hardly let you read for fun because of brain fog, it can be hard.

And because i worked it for josuke only to partially heal keicho because keicho told him specifically not to heal him, keicho obviously has disfiguring burn scars. And with his prosthetics and mobility aids, it goes without saying that he gets nasty looks and people staring at him. Those whispers around him when he goes into public. Those that lead him to often cover up even during summer time, that have the kids have to stand up for themselves and their own family at school because they get picked on because they have a VERY non traditional family. Those stares and comments can make him feel sub human, doctors constantly offering facial reconstruction surgery, and the way people can treat others is just... Appalling. Its taken keicho YEARS to feel comfortable in his own skin. From not getting that jarring feeling every time he looks in the mirror, not having to shower with a shirt on, not wanting to peel his skin off, etc... It was a bitter battle of self love. A bitter battle that sometimes he loses. But when that little hyakuko would play with his missing finger, boy did he feel less like a monster and more like the human that he is... Not to mention body positive josuke always being there to help him out. Since crazy diamond cant heal himself, josuke has lots of scars and stitches on his body from old stand battles and the sutch, and even if his scars arent disfiguring like keichos, they at least make him feel less alone, and okuyasu just being happy he's alive is always something that makes him feel better.

Overall, the au is centered around the theme of overcoming trauma and abuse much like my other works. In this case keicho is overcoming his old self and the abuse hed once done. And as time goes on, he does grow and evolve, becoming at least a somewhat better person and more understanding of others. Himself? Come on, its keicho. But no matter the hardships, when he sees how okuyasu has grown up and the happy family hes been able to have, and let alone keicho be part of it, its made all the hardships worth it. Disabled people are not a tragedy. Stop treating us like it.

[silversiren1101]

You know what, you get two more, because I absolutely lost track of which one had been answered already when I sent the numbers since I asked first and did the reading after. 😅❤️ 8. And 28.!

I will HAPPILY take more!

8. What happens if one of them gets sick?

I LOVE sick-fics and this question and it's been so hard to rationalize how level 20 + mythic 10 martial characters could get sick BUT I have two solid ideas for this hehe.

Minovae: She is a semi-divine being, as she is a protean lord but with the vessel of a once-mortal humanoid. The fact the is also a being of paradox means that I like to think that her powers have to be carefully managed, as she is something that quite literally breaks the laws of existence. If she leans too hard on the Lawful or Chaotic aspects of her power (oh the stress of being a True Neutral deity but a Lawful Good person) it unbalances her and she can get ill if it's too extreme. Too much Chaotic energy -> vomiting rainbow sludge, unable to hold her default form (proteans are shapeshifters), her blood takes on a rainbow sheen like an oil slick, classic fever and full-on body aches. Too much Lawful energy -> hard to stay tangible, starts to blink in and out of existence, her true sight runs haywire, debilitating migraines from overload of information streaming into her thoughts (long range telepathy), body goes rigid, temperature plummets. All are things totally fine for an actual Aeon or Protean, but for a once mortal woman?

In super extremes, she can be dangerous to physically be around as she radiates the imbalanced energy and can impact the environment around her.

Regill always has potions on hand infused with Lawful or Chaotic energy. Think if a Cure Wounds potion is filled with Positive, this would be the equivalent. Shoving the opposite energy down her throat helps correct the imbalance but it still takes her a little while to physically feel better. He'll move his work into either their bedroom or whatever room in the medical wing she's being looked after in to keep an eye on her. Checks her temperature and makes sure she's comfortable, wordlessly, every hour or so, just doesn't make a big deal out of it. Strokes her hair and helps her move about if she's in a bunch of pain or very ill.

If she's too overloaded she becomes more like an actual Protean or Aeon too, personality wise and disposition. He's one of the only people that can reason with her in that state and help bring her back to herself.

These are all extremely rare occurrences. Something terrible must've happened for an imbalance so severe to have happened.

Regill: The Thrune-cursed wounds he earned from saving Mino's life have periods where they ache severely, and can debilitate him from the pain and stiffness alongside a burning fever. This is generally when the cold season hits, that first major fall in temperature. Mino always knows because he'll still be in bed around her when she wakes up. He hates it, finds it humiliating, but she is careful to treat him exactly the same so he doesn't feel coddled and even more embarassed. Hot compresses, heated salves, bringing him a potion so he can at least get up and move around (he insists, a lictor can't be bedridden). Worst comes to worst, a sling to keep his arm stable which she helps him with, but without ceremony and with a light, joking disposition as usual. Inside she feels terrible because those wounds were meant for her after all, but she's not about to make him feel worse or make it about her.

28. What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

Nothing overly saccharine or sweet here! The fact he calls her "Mino" is quite a feat enough as is, but he will use 'my dear' with her as well. It makes her turn into a puddle.

She doesn't use any for him. She has tried many many times to come up with any that don't immediately make her laugh or feel wrong. There aren't any. She will use them jokingly or ironically as in a "oh sure 'hun'" kind of way, but that's all.

Link to Questions

[da-at-ass]

So this is where I am with mental illness, being a trans man, and having migraine headaches from a childhood injury that my parents won't give me more than sparse details on but which left me with a head scar that is visible to every person I meet:

IBS-like symptoms such as gut pain and severe indigestion arise when there is stress or hypervigilance. This often results in severe inflammation of the bowel area, and sometimes causes nausea which makes it difficult to eat.

Headaches and heat flares also occur with stress and it is difficult to take medication for them when my guts are inflamed and I'm nauseous. Dramamine is only so effective. So I end up just trying to use cold compresses, air conditioning, etc. Headaches get immensely worse if I don't have enough protein or carbs, which can be a problem if I have IBS-like symptoms.

Headaches also occur due to seasonal changes and pressure shifts. I have a crack in my skull and a scar on my scalp that ache when these things occur.

Sometimes the headaches are actually muscle tension in my neck pulling at my head and scalp. I have a few connections missing when it comes to my scalp and facial muscles, so my face itself tends to be tenser than normal just to keep a "neutral" expression instead of "frowning" all the time. (Turns out it takes me a lot more muscles to smile because those tendons/connections were cut! When I was 3-5 years old, age varying depending on when my parents have told me about it!)

The inflammation in my guts can cause the testosterone I take to not be able to reach my ovaries consistently due to the whole system just being overloaded, which means that this causes other problems with my sleep cycle, sanity, digestion, etc. Basically the whole ecosystem reboots after a few days and afterwards hormones start working again.

My headache pain meds are very effective when they're treating, specifically, migraine-like headache pain. But they also affect my mood and emotional stability. Which means, well, sometimes I have to cancel interactions with the rest of the world because I'm just that internally unregulatable. If the headache meds don't work then the pain itself causes me to be very critical or angry, because it's hard to feel other things when I'm feeling these ways.

Light is very hard to handle when the pain is bad in my head, and so I can't watch things all the time, or even be in a room with a decent amount of light in it.

There's some coping mechanisms I've developed, and some of them work well, and some of them require resources I don't have right now. For instance, there's no hot water in my house right now, and that means I can't take a hot shower, which is often very helpful for the temperature regulation. I've tried a cold shower and it just makes my muscles clench up. The opposite of what I need in that state.

What's the most frustrating for me is that I enjoy doing things for my family and for others, and I actually enjoy work. But in this state, I can't be reliable for anyone. I don't know when I'll find an equilibrium that makes it more workable. I know when my astrology says things open up, but that's it. Honestly, I think it'll take a hysterectomy to put my system where it needs to be, and I'd like top surgery while I'm at it. The hormones would work out a lot better without the stupid ovaries in there. The muscles would work better without the stupid extra chest baggage there.

I don't see much about trans health issues besides binders and basic hormone access. This condition complicates my life incredibly, and there have been many times that I have tried to expedite the surgery stuff only to have people get in the way with their needs and concerns instead of listening to mine. I just feel like I'm about to have a huge paradigm shift in my life, like this situation can't hold as-is, and whatever's on the other side is so drastically different that I can't imagine it yet.

Until then, I never know what the next day is going to be like, living inside this body that other people rigged up into a chemical bomb with their poisons.