#And this had actually never occurred to me before

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

[dreamyintersexouppy]

it's very odd cuz as much as like like gaining weight or my tits being bigger or hips being wider or w/e it's not really the result i'm excited about, i mean obviously i like my body i think i look hot but i have my body because of a process of change. i find far more beautiful the things i did and things that happen than the result.. like i like gaining weight because i enjoy eating, i like training my appetite to be more in line with actually sating my hunger and i like seeing what the weight does to me, sitting on my tummy for a while as it slowly moves to more comfortable places, caring for the aches and pains and seeing my stretch marks as reward, visible proof of change having occurred... i like my breasts growing and lactating because the regularity, i have to milk myself every day, and there's immediate reward because people i love can drink sweet milk or i can cook with it but also i can see my production increasing over time, i can feel it pushing at my skin and over time notice i move differently, my arms give my tits a wide berth that i never had instinct for before and the weight of them pulling on me is a reminder that im not used to them yet, that they're new and still changing idk i just... don't know what's more beautiful than the process of becoming the kind of beautiful i want to be... and i don't ever want to be done, ill find the new ways i change as time goes on and love those to, even if it's a struggle... its always so beautiful

[nonbinarypirat]

Can I just say that I really, really love your analysis post on m!ik. It had never occured to me how the theme could allude to education fighting against the fascism that exist in their society that it really put past chapters in perspective and really show how m!ik really stands out among other shounen mangas

After all, school is one of the common setting in shounen mangas, but most of the it was always more to establish a launching pad for the characters and narrative. You can even argue that some doesn't even need a school-setting to tell the same story.

But that's not the case for m!ik. Here, the teachers are expected to learn and grow alongside the students. Here, the school here is considered sacred by demons that there is a "Guard Dog" for generations. And at this point in the story, the students are expected to apply what they learn in order to give back to society. It's like this manga actually makes me appriciate how integral the education system is to the livelyhood of demons, and I love how the author managed to incorporate that in a demon setting where selfishness is a virtue. Makes such an interesting dichtomy.

Yes, all great points! Even the current political system shows us how important education is with the three greats (all of which are powerful and highly respected) are principals of highly respected schools. Hell, even in the newest chapters Iruma established a school for the many ear demons because school and education is that important. Clara herself reflects on how important school is for her and realizes her privilege to get to go to one. And I also love from Iruma’s perspective how much he loves school because he never had the opportunity to go to school and gain an education before now. Education is so vital to the story rather than an after thought. Even when the focus isn’t about Babyls itself, the themes are still there, it never leaves us for long.

[waitingformysandman]

Remember Me

Part 3

Summary: After years of being separated from your love, James (Bucky) Buchanan Barnes, you finally find him again. But he’s different. Too different. Not only does he forget himself but you and Steve as well. Can he get his memories back?

‼️Trigger Warnings will be noted if needed at the beginning of chapter.‼️

Triggers: reader not taking care of themselves, starving, self deprication, Steve Rodgers being an ass

Use of Y/N in this chapter. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: for anyone actually keeping up with this I’m so sorry this chapter took so long😂

“Of course you can stay with me Sargent. I’ve been waiting for you.”

He smiled that beautiful smile. The one you thought you’d never see again but were blessed to see so many times in the past hour.

“Don’t smile at me like that.” You blushed.

“Like what?” He asked. Genuinely confused as it was how he smiled at everything that made him genuinely happy.

“Like that. That smile you always do that gets us into trouble. The one you know would get us into trouble here. You know the one.”

There wasn’t a specific smile. It was just him. He was so unabashedly happy to be back in your presence no matter how little he remembered it hadn’t even occurred to him that he probably looked a little deranged.

He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. Literally.

He frowned.

You furrowed your brow from the sudden change of Bucky’s emotions.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He whispered so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. It didn’t help that he was looking at the ground.

“I don’t remember the last time I smiled.”

He looked up at you again, eyes watering.

You tentatively reached around his waist with one arm before reaching around with the other. Just in case.

He stood rigidly. His arms to his sides and breathing heavily. You pressed your whole body to him hoping your closeness would ease his tension like it used to. But it didn’t. Instead, it made everything worse.

With his one arm he wrenched you away from himself and his once gorgeous blue eyes were now steel. He wasn’t there anymore. He almost looked like him. The one that haunted your dreams now. The Winter Soldier. But he wasn’t. The Soldier wasn’t quite there. But he was there enough.

“Leave.”

Your head snapped up. Unsure you heard him correctly you asked him to repeat himself.

“I said leave. Stop waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.”

You gaped at him. Everything was ok. He was fine a minute ago. You were fixing your relationship, getting to know each other again. It was wonderful. But now.

You weren’t sure if you were going to be able to have a relationship if it was going to be like this every time you got close to him. It wouldn’t work. In no reality would that work.

“B-Bucky?” you stuttered

“I SAID GET OUT!”

He shoved you away and took hold of your wrist leading you out of the hut and quite literally threw you out.

You landed on your hands and knees with tears in your eyes.

Steve didn’t see much but he saw you get thrown out. He ran as fast as he could to get to you.

“Hey. What happened? You alright?”

You slowly got to your knees and looked at your hands. You started picking out the gravel that had embedded itself in your palms.

You slowly and calmly looked Steve directly in the eyes.

“He’s gone Steve. There isn’t anything we can do.”

Steve flinched.

“What are you talking about ‘He’s gone’? What’s going on? Y/N what happened in there!”

You got up off your knees and found Shuri near the edge of the lake.

“Thank you for all your help Shuri. I know you’ve done everything you can. But I think it’s too late. He’s gone.”

And that’s when you broke down. You couldn’t fight the tears.

You found Steve beside you and buried yourself in his chest. If Bucky wouldn’t hold you at least you knew your friend would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 Weeks Later

Steve was never good at speaking to women. Saying hello in and of itself was a general hardship for him.

Except for you. Since Bucky had found you all those years ago you and Steve had become good friends. Steve was grateful for that.

Steve couldn’t talk to women. But he could talk to you. You weren’t just a woman. You were his best friend and his other best friend’s…girlfriend? Fiancé?

Whatever you were to Bucky he wasn’t quite sure. But you were important enough that he had bought you a ring and you had worn it. Even after thinking he had been dead for 70 years.

He wasn’t sure if Bucky was still there anymore. If anything that had happened in Wakanda was anything to go by. Steve would bring him back though. For you.

As he wandered the halls of the Avenger’s compound alone with his thoughts Steve decided to try to visit you again. Even though you probably wouldn’t see him.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone. He hadn’t seen you leave your room or even order anything to your room. He had asked FRIDAY if you had been at least eating but you had instructed FRIDAY not to tell anyone and that “If it’s Blondie asking, tell him I’ll eat when I feel like it.”

He’d been getting that same message for months. He hoped you were still alive at this point.

Steve stopped at your door and took a breath before knocking.

Knock knock knock.

He waited a minute.

He was greeted with the deafening silence of the empty compound.

But he soon heard a rustling coming from the other side of the door. And then the sound of feet shuffling closer and closer to the door until it slowly creaked the tiniest bit open.

He was shocked. You looked awful.

“Hey Steve.”

That was it. 2 weeks of silence, not knowing if you were taking care of yourself, if you were dead and all he got was ‘Hey Steve’? Nope not ok.

“‘Hey Steve?’ That’s it? Really Y/N? That’s all I get? HEY FUCKING STEVE?!”

You flinched. You knew you deserved it. Hiding in your room for the past 2 weeks. He tried to help you. You just wanted to die.

“Yeah. Just hey Steve.”

You started to shut the door but he smashed his hand between the door and the jamb before you could close it all the way and he forced the door completely open.

You couldn’t wither away and lose a grotesque amount of weight like an average person as a super soldier. But you still managed to somehow look like it.

You motioned to the box by the couch in the living room.

“They sent me his things the day after we got back. Well, his backpack and the clothes on his back.”

Steve looked at you warily. It explained the slight look of insanity. You missed him. Too much.

You wished it was him in your room. Not a box of clothes and backpack of memories.

He needed the backpack. Wherever he was.

“You should go Steve.”

“What do you mean I should go? You need help! A therapist. Something!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered “it’s not proper.”

“THIS IS THE 1940’s Y/N! BUCKY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE HERE FOR IT TO BE ‘PROPER’. AND GUESS WHAT? YOU WEREN’T EVEN MARRIED! HE HADN’T EVEN PROPOSED YET SO IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN PROPER ANYWAY!”

You knew he was right. You mentally rolled your eyes. He was always right.

“Ya know what? Fine. Sit here and wallow in your pain and his bloodied tattered clothes and books of faded memories. It’s not going to help bring him back!”

And with those last stinging words Steve left. Making sure to slam the door behind him like the dramatic ass he is.

[the-devil-less-known]

"Oho, if you do, remind me to bring the golf clubs," he’s joking. Mostly. Kinda. Though, who knows if he'll follow through or not when the ring does come, if it does. Or mention a certain bowling alley in Greed. Lucifer isn’t exactly squeamish when it comes to this, and the heads in question were always compensated fairly for the day’s labor. One could even pay extra to rent ones that screamed especially for you or remained silent for the time being.

Though, it likely wasn’t going to be a matter of ‘renting’ another’s time if this did occur. Oops.

With the talk about the radio, Lucifer very much tries to follow along to the impromptu lecture about the machine in question and its inner workings. Unfortunately, his know-how about machinery was quite limited, most of the terms running together into a very complicated sounding word. So, what he ends up needing to do, is ask clairifying questions, and see if Alastor might like the subject enough to continue. Though, given some of the tells that the fallen could spot, it seemed like this topic was a safe one to ask when there was time to humor conversation.

Hesitant, but hoping to place a name to the parts so he might know what was being looked at, Lucifer pointed at a clear tube that he could espy in the casing and leaned over to tentitively guess what the other parts might be, “…Is that the vaccum tube? I never actually looked inside one of these or other machines, but they really do have a lot of wiring inside them, don’t they? Complex little things. Did you have a book on how to make repairs or did you simply take radios apart and reconstruct them until you learned how?”

It would have had to have been painstaking, if it was the latter case. Hours and days spent, easily.

With another studying glance at the radio and its innards, the King steps away with a balanced tray in hand, and sets up the table, tail placing the milk canister with the rest that he rearranges neatly with practiced hands. It isn’t quite the same, this isn’t a visit to some of the younger goetia or one of his sins, or him having a couple of his older staff spend an hour with him, just for company….

But it’s strangely nostaglic to be sharing a cup of a hot drink with someone, even if that someone was Alastor with muddled history between the two of them. It makes the fluffy end of his tail flick from side-to-side, absently tracing figure eights in the air until he finally settles down in one of the chairs, one leg crossed over the other at the knee.

Resting his face in his hands and elbows on a thigh, Lucifer watches the man busy himself, and it feels a little strange, seeing him just…. move as he always did before the other times when Lucifer had watched him, though the difference now being he was aware of it. Nothing much changed. Nothing, except perhaps that he wasn’t looking for excuses to justify his feelings now. He’d never voice it, on pains of sounding and looking more foolish than he felt he already appeared to be.

“I wonder if you need all the components inside to operate one with your abilities as you do, or if even a hollow one would work so long as it is a radio in spirit?”

"Aha! Sounds as though the last time you were there was near the course of the French revolution. The country is moderately more civilized since then, I would imagine, though they have their fair share of protest and calamity, just as any other. But I rarely invested myself in the politics of my own country of origin, let alone any others. I'm sure there are books that could give you a better rundown as to how that whole ordeal went."

Something something about a coup d'état and the start of the Napoleanic era. It is not really worth expounding upon at the moment.

"I've not participated in a good beheading in a long time, though I'm sure I can give you a ring when I do."

Is he joking? He'll never tell. One is always left to guess with the radio demon.

As he prepares the coffee, the mention of the radio is something that perks him up visibly - if he were not already in a fairly decent mood which Lucifer will need to take advantage of, rare as it is. Subtle though it is, his tail gives a pleased sway from one side to the next - always eager to speak of the work he does with the little machines.

"There are some that are products of Hell's absorption of technology from above, but there are others that I custom-make myself. That one is a hold over from my era of living - It is an Atwater Kent 165. A cathedral style, small 5-tube AC superhet circuit radio. It's in need of some wiring and tube replacements, though it's been difficult to find something that functions as intended. If I can get it working again, it will hopefully be quite the addition to one of my shelves."

He takes a moment to gesture to the open casing - exposed innards which deem the thing obviously in-service, but that does not seem to undermine his enthusiasm for it.

"This radio is among the earliest to include all of the improvements that define a modern radio, including a superheterodyne architecture for excellent sensitivity and selectivity, an automatic volume control to equalize the volume of strong vs weak stations, a good-sounding electrodynamic speaker with cloth surround, and a vacuum tube diode detector for low distortion. Not a cheap radio by any means for the time."

He could yammer on. But there is coffee to be had.

When Lucifer seems to appear with the tray out of thin air, Alastor takes the magic at hand in stride. Because it is simple enough for he himself to snap fingers and manifest a metal table with two chairs - white, though the painting is a bit rusted and worn in some areas of the complex lattice work on it, it is a nice little thing that nestles itself right at the edge of the seemingly vast blue bayou that lay beyond. Though they are fewer tonight, the little faint glows of fireflies bring together a bit of appropriate evening ambience that Alastor has come to enjoy.

"Over there will do," he instructs.

[cosmo-64]

So you’re tellin me after all these years I was supposed to identify the companion and not with the doctor!?!

His missing social cues, rambling and infodumping, inherent chaotic thought processes and the words he uses to express them are intended to look weird to me and not be relatable???

Did I get that right?

I am…in shambles.

[carrot-boi]

mushi-shi

[pharawee]

How to have sex carefully in tent. I'm ready. Can we do it?

—MONSTER NEXT DOOR · Episode 9

[reasonsforhope]

"A first-of-its-kind report has discovered that altering the ingredients list or manufacturing methods of widely used medication can really cut back on carbon emissions.

They found a reduction of 26 million tons, enough to cancel out the whole carbon footprint of the city of Geneva for a decade. Best of all, it’s already happening, and in fact, is almost done—those emissions were already saved.

The lifesaving HIV treatment dolutegravir (DTG) is used by 24 million people worldwide.

Today, over 110 low and middle-income countries have adopted DTG as the preferred treatment option. Rapid voluntary licensing of the medicine, including its pediatric version, to over a dozen generic manufacturers, significantly drove down prices, and it’s estimated that 1.1 million lives will be saved from HIV/AIDS-related deaths by 2027.

Its predecessor, efavirenz, contained 1200 milligrams of active ingredient across the three active compounds present, while DTG contains 650 milligrams of just one compound. This small difference—literally measurable in single digits of paper clips by weight—was enough to change the carbon emissions footprint of the medication by a factor of 2.6.

The incredible discovery was made in a recent report by Unitaid, a global public-private partnership that invests in new health products and solutions for low and middle-income countries, called Milligrams to Megatons, and is the first published research to compare carbon footprints between commonly used medications.

“This magnitude of carbon footprint reduction surpasses many hard-won achievements of climate mitigation in health and other sectors,” the authors of the report write.

At the rate at which DTG is produced, since it entered into production and treatment regime in 2017, 2.6 million fewer tons of CO2 have entered the atmosphere every year than if efavirenz was still the standard treatment option.

Health Policy Watch reports that the global medical sector’s carbon emissions stand at roughly 5% of the global carbon emissions and are larger than the emissions of many big countries, and 2.5 times as much as aviation.

“This report demonstrates that we can achieve significant health improvements while also making strides in reducing carbon emissions. By adopting innovative practices and prioritizing sustainability, we can ensure that medicines like DTG are not only effective but also environmentally responsible,” Vincent Bretin, Director of Unitaid’s Results and Climate Team told Health Policy Watch."

-via Good News Network, July 17, 2024

[hasellia]

[forcedhesitation]

why should it just be steve who has all the torturous purgatory realm fun?

[corvid-language-library]

This week I got to educate my Japanese colleagues about pancake day and also introduce them to toblerones and I think I blew their minds

[robotpanties]

uuuuuhhh no reason just wanna see the robot get preggers because nobody is really taking advantage of the narrative consequences of the robots of ULTRAKILL having fleshy bits inside them (in my humble opinion hahahaha...hahaha....hah....). Anywhosen also a sucker for general Bad End especially when it involves a psycho-sexual (breeding) binding to a greater entity but also I wanna see the murder-robot get knocked up. And the galaxy brain bit of this is instead of calming down they just get Worse.

YEAH NO ONE REALLY TAKES ADVANTAGE OF THAT. and well i mostly assumed a very small percentage of people actually want to breed the robots like that which is why.

also i don't think this as a bad end, but a bad path that can lead to some other.. inch resting things (my stupid ass is trying to craft a plot with horror and drama from this path and how it'd change the story slightly despite knowing I will never get around to writing it in fic form except tiny excerpt ideas and art)

also i have so much to say abt the 'it doesn't calm down it just gets worse' bc its So true

[msburgundy]

wow, i really am the self-medication campeão do mundo. these drugs got me enjoying things again

[sysig]

Some more Just Desserts pets, and thinking about Candy Mers again (Patreon)

Also ft. the pigeon study I did, what a cute bird!

[fingertipsmp3]

Save me skincare routine. Save me stupidly expensive skincare routine in tiny bottles