#I need to go to bed this is the chronically sleep deprived talking

[crumbledmountains]

MY arcane alternate universe where silco teams up with everyone’s other favorite eloquent sharp-dressed morally grey deeply emotional yet projects coldness villain with offputting eyes—grand admiral thrawn, of course—and they win zaun’s independence and then save the chiss ascendancy from the grysks. hire me fortiche!!!

[differentcoloredcontacts]

Ayo you're back!! Awesome!! Could I perhaps ask for how each of them are when they're chronically sleep deprived? Like "I've lived off of caffeine for the past two weeks and I am currently communing with the microwave via love bites" kind of sleep deprived (and maybe what the others do to get them to fucking bed)?

Not proofread we die like men

Awase - he already casually drinks energy drinks so no one really noticed he was as tired as he was until they tried talking to him. Bro can not understand a word being said to him at any given moment. Not to mention he sounds like the dyslexic scene from the ghost stories dub. Rin or someone probably throws him onto his bed only for him to almost instantly pass out lmao.

Sen - everyone knew he was lacking sleep when the saw him poor an energy drink into black coffee and say sorry to a wall for walking into it. He eventually falls asleep on the common areas couch and his classmates just leave him there undisturbed. (Monoma did draw on his face with a sharpie thought)

Kamakiri - it takes so long for people to find out hes lacking sleep. Him cussing at objects and drinking 12 black coffees in five minutes or less is considered normal for some reason. They only realize hes desperately needs rest when he doesn't immediately try to fight tetsu when he asks to train his quirk. He probably just ends up falling asleep on his own since he dosent let his classmates in his room anyways.

Kuroiro - bro is always sleep deprived so nothings new. He goes on average 2-3 days without sleep. So him walking into class with a bag full of energy drinks and a large black coffee extra espresso in hand no ones really surprised.

Kendo - shes pretty good at keeping a good sleep schedule but because of that kendo losing only a few hours of sleep can really mess with her head. So a full all nighter has her seeing stars and stuff. Everyone can instantly tell shes exhausted and all it takes is for someone to ask her to go take a nap and she does just that no problem.

Kodai - when shes sleep deprived she actually becomes more talkative but shes yawning in the middle of every sentence and constantly losing her train of thought (not to mention she poured an entire pot of coffee onto the floor before realizing she missed her cup completely.) Komori or kendo probably takes her to bed lmao

Komori - shes a very loving person so when shes sleep deprived its probably because she struggles sleeping without someone near her. Shes probably used to sleepovers with the other girls (mostly pony and setsuna) so once the girls see komori bite into a piece of tree bark she found on the ground they decided to hold a small sleepover to help her out.

Shiozaki - its really hard for her to become tired much less sleep deprived since she can absorb a little energy from the sun with her vine hair (at least thats what the wiki said) but since shes used to the sun giving her a little boost she quickly becomes tired during long periods of clouds and rain with little sunlight. She starts to doze off while standing and kendo has had to carry her to her room more than once during this.

Shishida - once he starts getting tired he takes less care of his hair(fur?) And it quickly starts getting tangled and matted. He unintentionally starts sounding like an old man thats fought both world wars. Idk its just his tired tone of voice lmao. He probably doesn't drink energy drinks so when hes sleep deprived there isnt a moment where there isnt a black coffee in his hand. He probably ends up falling asleep sitting up in a chair.

Shoda - if hes lacking too much sleep and the coffee and energy drinks arnt helping anymore he will simply fall asleep at his desk for a few minutes at a time or in the common area. If hes that sleep deprived he will catch up on sleep through little naps throughout the day instead of just going to bed normally. (Which arguably makes his sleep deprivation worse)

Pony - when shes sleep deprived she dosent bother with brushing her hair in the mornings or things like that so as she gets less and less sleep she looks more and more like a zombie. She probably is a lot like komori and needs one of the girls to help her sleep a bit.

Tsubaraba - hes always sleep deprived. It gives charachter. He'll go for days without sleep and not even notice until one of his classmates point out how hes taking to his own shadow. Rin and awase got him to go to bed. (It took welding him down but if it works it works)

Tetsutetsu - not getting proper sleep isnt manly in his opinion, so he tries his best to take good care of his sleep schedule. So on the rare times where he is lacking sleep hes not sure what to do. He ends up falling asleep in class and staying asleep until schools over pretty much. Other than being really tired and barely being able to form a coherent sentence hes not as bad sleep deprived as ya think.

Tokage - she will say absolutely anything and everything she thinks of when shes tired and she will be immediately forget what she said. Its not anything mean or remotely understandable for that matter, but she will say it. She seems the type to get more tired from things like coffee and energy drinks so those dont help. The only way she gets any sleep is either from the girls sleepover or by actually collapsing

Manga - pulling 4 all nighters in a row just to draw was not his smartest moment. Doing that during exam season was an even dumber move. He pulled up to class without a pencil or book of any kind but he had a black coffee with triple espresso. He dosent like coffee but he forgot until he was already half way done with his coffee and the bitter taste hit him like a truck. After that he slept for like 2 and a half days straight.

Honenuki - he can go 4 or 5 days without sleep but in those final few hours on the last day he loses all grip on sanity lmaoo. He'll be fine and then suddenly he'll be drinking 12 energy drinks in one sitting and forgetting his own name. Hes pretty good at getting himself to sleep at that point tho.

Bondo - no one can tell hes sleep deprived until he falls asleep standing up. He starts moving all sluggish like and is constantly yawning but other than that not much of a difference despite how tired he is. He probably ends up falling asleep in the common area.

Monoma - he loses an hour of sleep and he'll look like he hasn't slept in months. So even one all nighter causes him to get the biggest eye bags youve ever seen. He can only stay awake thanks to the multiple energy drinks he has. He finally gets some sleep after kendo knocked him out.

Reiko - she usually stays up later than the rest of the class so shes used to having a bit less sleep than some of her classmates but the second she starts walking into walls because she can barely keep her eyes open she knows its time for bed. When she gets like this she can sleep for almost a full day and a half and still be tired when she wakes up. Becoming sleep deprived is how she knows its bed time.

Rin - the only reason he would ever lose sleep is if he stayed up all night studying or some nerdy thing like that lmao. Day of the test he walks in with the biggest eye bags and 12 energy drinks in his bag only to pass out the second it starts and not wake up all day. He refuses to pull all nighters after his final grade dropped 20% from that.

Gifs anime - dungeon meshi

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Ghostober - Day 12 [River]

"My toaster was definitely talking to me this morning" - 1k

CW: River gets injured - burns (no blood or graphic description)

⊹ Ghostober Masterlist ⊹

River had been a chronic patient in the infirmary under Omega’s care. Always doing something that ended him back laying in a bed in the medical wing. Between him and his brother Lake, River was somehow always the one ending up on the wrong side of a prank, or pulling the short end of the stick.

This week had been no different.

It had started out harmless enough. Hiding all of Terzo’s left socks, switching out Alpha’s shampoo with lube, turning a whole row of books to have the spines facing inward in the library - top to bottom I might add, it took two and a half hours for the Sisters to turn everything back the right way.

Yet that was all elementary. The terror twins were simply not satisfied.

They had upped the stakes as the week went on. Putting laxatives in the Tuesday chilli, they hid a smoke generator in Secondo’s office, activating it when he was alone and causing everyone to think there's a fire. The whole Abbey had to evacuate while the two ghouls snickered wickedly in the corner. They had simultaneously replaced Sister’s masterkey with a similar-looking, non-functional one, causing her to be locked out of everywhere she needed to go - including the security office to shut off the fire alarm.

River had put itching powder in Dewdrop's laundry detergent, causing the little fire ghoul to be miserable all day until he finally snapped. He had marched all the way to River’s room, leaving a trail of black smoke in his wake as his little legs quickly ate up the distance.

Dew had found River sitting casually on the couch in the den. His carefree expression and body language made the former water ghoul’s skin boil.

“Can’t you prank somebody else, River? I’ve got enough shit going on.” Dew snarled, closing the distance between the two of them.

River couldn’t help but look at the little ghoul with his face scrunched in confusion before remembering what he had done a few days prior. All Dew got in reply was a little snicker.

“It’s not funny! I feel like my skin is crawling!” He had ripped his shirt off and River could see that he might have put a little too much. Dew was covered in red scratches all over, clearly trying to use his claws as carefully as he could to relieve some of the itch.

River felt a little bad, but Dew had done pranks of this calibre to him before he was a fire ghoul.

“Okay, maybe I put a little too much? But it’s kind of funny.” River chuckled, which only angered Dew more as he moved to stand right in front of the larger water ghoul.

“No. More.” Dew hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers working tirelessly to relieve the discomfort all over his arms and chest.

River stood, towering over Dew as he took in the sight of his red, raw skin.

“I’m sorry, no more…. Maybe just the harmless ones?” River smirked.

That was the final straw. Between the insatiable itching, the lack of sleep that night due to the itching, and now River’s incessant taunting. He was about to explode.

And he did.

Dewdrop’s fire element was unstable on a good day, but today it was well fed on his sleep deprived brain and untapped rage as the little ghoul had burst into flames, sending River flying back over the couch.

And that’s how he ended up in the infirmary this week.

He had bandages covering his many burns and blisters as he laid back in the bed Omega had almost permanently labelled with his name.

“You’re lucky water ghouls have a protective mucus in your skin to protect you from this kind of stuff. Otherwise this would’ve been a lot worse.” Omega had said, along with something about consequences of actions? He couldn’t remember. Or more accurately, he didn’t want to hear it.

Lake had come in to see his brother every day. Letting him in on all the gossip and things. Those two were absolutely insufferable around the Abbey, and Secondo had threatened to send them back to the Pit on numerous occasions. Yet somehow they were still here.

“Hey Riv? Can I tell you something scary?” Lake’s voice was low with a sinister tone.

“Oh I’m all ears– ah. All ear.” River joked, patting his one ear that was bandaged against his head.

“Okay, you know how we’ve been debating whether the den is haunted?” River nodded, leaning in to listen more intently. “Well, I was laying in my nest last night and I heard voices.”

River’s eyes went wide. “Really? What did they say?”

“I don’t know but the TV turned off without me touching it. There were knocks coming from your room. You haven’t heard anything like that have you?” Lake asked as he tried not to burst out laughing as he saw River shake in fear. He really shouldn’t be taking advantage of his brother while he was high as a kite on pain meds, but it was just too easy.

River pulled the covers up to his face and hid behind them. “You don’t think they’re following me, are you?”

Lake tilted his head, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“If you were hearing voices…. Then my toaster was definitely talking to me this morning.”

Lake couldn’t help it, he burst out with laughter before being grabbed by the scruff of his neck and forcibly removed from the infirmary by a rather large, rather annoyed Omega.

“Can’t even let your brother recover without causing a ruckus?” The quint stood with his arms crossed, the scariest look on his face. It was much like the look you’d get from a very disappointed mother as he effectively took up the space within the doorway, blocking Lake’s every attempt to get back inside.

“O-Omeg…ahaha! Please!” Lake wheezed, clutching his side as he got a stitch from laughing so hard. “Come on! His face was priceless!”

With two large hands on the water ghoul’s shoulders, Omega effortlessly turned him around and gave Lake a loving boot in the ass out of his infirmary.

“Scram, you leech!”

A/N: Not proofread, sorry it's so short.

[holfelderwrites124]

Severed Threads

Chapter 2: Schemes

(Chapter 1: Promotion)

Two weeks go by before Aisha is finally able to drag Ian away from Abby and Dennis for a night to celebrate his promotion. Ian is full of excuses during that time — thin excuses that Aisha can see right through. Abby needs me to do this, Dennis wants to hang out, I’m too tired tonight. She knows damn well that Abby just wants to control Ian’s time, and Dennis only cares about Ian’s … well. He only cares about getting Ian into bed.

I’m too tired is the only excuse that Aisha truly believes. She can see the exhaustion in the dark circles under his eyes and in the way he drags himself around the offices when he thinks no one is looking. Every time Aisha runs into Ian, his eyes have lost a little bit more of their usual sparkle. After week one of being put off, Aisha reaches out to Paul to see if he knows what’s going on.

Paul tells Aisha that Ian has been deteriorating for a while now, maybe two months.

“He hides it well,” Paul tells Aisha. “His performance is the same as always — spectacular. He’s adjusted well to his knew position.” Paul shakes his head. “But when he thinks no one is looking, I can see the cracks in that mask he’s putting on.”

“What do you mean?” Aisha asks.

“I’ve caught him having panic attacks several times in the mornings.” Paul sighs. “He always straightens up and puts on a smile when he hears me coming. But he’s … shaking and I can hear him talking to himself, trying to calm himself down.” Paul stuffs his hands in his pocket and leans against the door. “And that thing he does with his left arm, when that chronic pain flares? He’s doing it again.”

Aisha winces. “Shit. That’s not great.”

Ian was diagnosed a few years ago with fibromyalgia. It often flares up if Ian is stressed, sleep-deprived, or extremely upset. If he’s been tucking his arm stiffly against his side, that means he’s struggling again.

Paul nods. “Yeah, he’s not doing so hot. But I can’t get him to crack. He just smiles and tells me he’s fine.”

Aisha huffs. “That’s the same response I’m getting. Just a grin and a don’t worry about me.” Aisha purses her lips. “It’s that damn couple he’s been with, the McCartneys. He’s been getting worse ever since he moved in with them.”

Paul tilts his head, considering. “You know, I think you’re right. That is when it first started.”

“I was so happy for him when he got together with them. They seemed like just the right fit for him.” Aisha shakes her head sadly. “He’s been so lonely since he cut ties with his family, and I was hoping these two would be healthy for him.” Aisha snorts. “Fucking unicorn hunters.”

Paul raises an eyebrow. “Unicorn hunters?”

“Oh, sorry.” Aisha laughs softly. “It’s a term in the poly community for a couple looking for a third. It’s usually a male-female couple looking for a woman to join them for funsies, but occasionally you’ll find some looking for a man.” Aisha rolls her eyes. “It’s rarely a true ethical non-monogamous situation, because the unicorn isn’t really allowed to date outside of the throuple, while the other partners can usually do what they want.”

Paul looks vaguely ill. “You think they trapped Ian?”

Aisha nods. “I really do. Ian’s been withdrawing from John and I, and you. First it was just that they wanted to spend time with him, but now …”

“Now he’s working overtime any chance he can get,” Paul fills in. He shakes his head. “I’ve noticed. It makes me wonder how much they’re asking him to contribute to stay in that house of theirs.”

Aisha snorts. “It’s … not a great house.”

“Really? It looks great from the outside, I’ve seen pictures Ian’s shown me.”

“Yeah.” Aisha huffs. “They’ve done a ton of cosmetic work on the interior, so the rooms even look great. But half the plumbing doesn’t work, kitchen cabinets are falling off the walls, and the structure? The structural integrity of that house is not good.”

Paul lets out a long sigh. “Shit.”

“You can say that again.” Aisha frowns up at Paul. “My guess is they’re making him pay more than he should be, with all the overtime he’s clocking.”

“He’s apologizing again too, like he did when you two were in the Academy.”

Aisha winces. “Yeah, I noticed that. He’s doing it with you too?”

Paul nods, and Aisha sighs.

Apologizing for every opinion or thought that came out of Ian’s mouth had always been a habit — Aisha blamed his religious upbringing — but since the McCartney’s, Ian was always apologizing. His inherent lack of confidence in his personal life was worse. He cut himself down more often, and his negative self-talk was worse than Aisha had seen it in the five years she had known Ian.

“I blame Abby for that,” Aisha says. “I met her once. She clearly thought I was a threat. She was such a snob.” Aisha snorts. “And Dennis? Jesus, Dennis couldn’t keep his hands off Ian. It was so uncomfortable to watch. Hell, I even caught Ian swatting at Dennis once or twice to get him away from Ian. It was weird.”

Paul makes a disgusted face. “Yeah, they came here once to see Ian. I met them in the hall. Dennis followed Abby around like a lost puppy. I think the only thing other than Abby that he cares about is Ian. And … I mean … well …”

“No I get you,” Aisha nods. “The only thing Dennis cares about is Ian’s dick.”

Paul sputters and turns a faint shade of red.

Aisha raises an eyebrow. “You know I’m right.”

Paul clears his throat awkwardly and nods. “No, I … I know.”

Aisha smirks at him. “I’ll try to be less blunt next time.”

“No, it’s alright.” Paul laughs quietly. “I’m just … I don’t … I don’t think about Ian in that way ever, so it’s weird to hear.” He frowns. “It’s so weird to hear anyone think about Ian … like that. He’s so private about everything …”

“Related to sex?” Aisha smirks again as Paul rolls his eyes at her bluntness. “Yeah. He’s not comfortable with the topic, and frankly, I don’t know how comfortable he is with Abby and Dennis’s attention.” Aisha sighs. “Well, I guess we both agree, then. Something’s going on with Ian, and it’s not great.”

Paul nods. “Plan?”

Aisha shrugs. “I’m going to keep badgering him until he agrees to come over and have dinner with me and John, but I have no idea how long that will take.”

“I can get on his case about having dinner with Shannon and I. Maybe he’ll agree to at least one of us to get us off of his back.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Aisha says with a smile.

The two of them part ways, Paul returning to his office and Aisha focusing back on her monitors. They play out their plan for nearly another entire week before Ian breaks, agreeing to spend Friday night with Aisha and John. Aisha lets Paul know, but they both agree that Paul shouldn’t come. Ian can clam up when he feels trapped, and they want him to feel comfortable enough to open up about whatever is bothering him.

Aisha sets a time with Ian, lets John know, and then commences to plot out the best way to get Ian to talk.

In the end, her plans don’t really matter. Ian’s body takes matters into its own hands.

Ian looks pale and unwell from the moment he sets foot in the bullpen that Friday morning. Both Aisha and Paul notice it, and furtively text each other about the circles under his eyes and his stiff posture. He perks up the moment he catches Paul watching him, pasting on a fake smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and choking out an off-kilter greeting. Paul asks how he is, as he always does, but today, Ian just shrugs and says hanging in there.

He didn’t even try to fake it, Paul texts Aisha.

Alarm bells go off in Aisha’s head. If Ian isn’t even bothering to fake a chipper doing great, then he must really be hurting, physically or mentally — or both. Aisha keeps a close eye on Ian from her lair through the one window that opens to the bullpen. She notes how slow he moves, and how tired he looks when he thinks no one is watching. Aisha wonders how his conversation with Abby and Dennis went when he told them he was having dinner with Aisha and John. She assumes it went poorly.

Somehow they make it to the end of the day with no crisis requiring either Ian or John — who is a Philadelphia EMT — to skip dinner, and at promptly six, Ian knocks on the door to Aisha and John’s apartment. John lets him in, as Aisha is finishing putting the chicken in the oven.

“Hey, Ian! Long time no see!” Aisha hears John greet Ian.

Ian’s response is a low murmur, which makes Aisha anxious. He used to be full of life, especially around John. She had tracked for a while how animated Ian would get around John, always ready to regale him with some story or another, and always willing to listen to whatever John had to say in response. If even John can’t bring Ian out of his shell … well, they may just have to stage an actual intervention.

Aisha joins Ian and John in their living room once the chicken is in the oven. They engage in small talk for a while, just chitchatting about jobs and hobbies. Aisha can see Ian giving a valiant effort to brighten up — tiny smiles, a curious glint in his eyes, and the occasional encouraging head nod, but he’s hardly like himself at all. John catches it too, glancing at Aisha out of the corner of his eye every now and then. Something is wrong, even more so than usual.

It’s not until John stands to grab them all drinks that everything comes to a head. Ian abruptly stands as well.

“I’ll … I can help,” he says softly, but earnestly. There’s a small smile toying at his lips, and Aisha notes the way John lights up at Ian’s offer.

John motions for Ian to follow. Ian takes two steps, then comes to a hesitant stop.

“I’m … sorry. I think … I think I should s-sit down?” Ian glances down at Aisha, confusion in his face.

Then his eyes close, his knees buckle, and he collapses onto their carpet.

Taglist: @lofiyaketyblr

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Chapter 3: Fights and Fainting

[mspaintbrush]

Baptiste thoughts

always wears his bonnet while sleeping (protect da hair)

Weighted blanket. He just needs something holding him (down)

Not used to a good bed, seems like the guy to sleep on an old thin mattress on the floor in an empty apartment. (No luxury when you are on the run)

Can sleep anywhere under any circumstances.

Kinda horrible in the kitchen (im just getting this vibe from him)

He would take a little too much liberty from the recipes

Dont let him cook unsupervised

Great with spices though. Let him do the seasoning. only that.

Eats almost anything, couldnt afford to be picky for a long time.

Likes music. Hangs with Lucio often.

Especially enjoys Lucio playing the guitar/ukulele (nostalgia-melancholy). (Maybe he teaches him?????????)

I imagine Lucio often asks him for his advice and even if Bap doesnt know the musical terms he can give useful feedback.

Tries very hard to only be cheerful, relaxed and easy-going around everybody, feeling as if everything else isnt good enough.

Constant feeling of impostor syndrome as if he cant believe he is actually part of Overwatch and given this second chance.

So he constantly needs to always be giving his best and only showing his best parts because if its anything below that then he wouldnt be worthy to stay anymore.

Eventually, he WILL crack though.

I imagine maybe after a failed mission where he just made too many "wrong decisions" and he still pretends to be alright on the way back, but some notice he is more quiet than usual. And he disappears to his room earlier.

And I'm sure Lucio would pick up on it or maybe Brig because they are closest with him and have high emotional intelligence. So I just imagine Lucio knocking on Baps door, asking if he can come hang and as he peeks into the room its just Baptiste sitting there in the dark on the floor having a breakdown.

He and Zarya are gym buddies

He isnt as much as an expert as her, but he picked up a thing or two from training with Mauga (who canonically is into lifting and stuff and a fan of Zarya)

She shows him some tricks and gives him advice and in return he spots her

They dont talk much. Bap picks up on Zarya preferring silence very quickly. The gym ends up as a place for him where he can turn off emotions and just focus on his body. (Only if they are alone though)

His love language is quality time

Thats it thats the thought

Chronically flirty

He cant even control it anymore it just comes naturally and sometimes he doesnt notice until the adressed reacts weird

At the same time caught off-guard when people start flirting back (right now I only see Lifeweaver, Mauga, maybe Genji and Cass doing that (and only two of those are in overwatch))

Subconsciously still on the run. If he is really sleep deprived he gets a little paranoid.

Imagine one time afted a sleepless night Baptiste sleeps in and Rheinhardt goes to wake him up. But as Baptiste is woken up by Rhein leaning over and shaking him (patented rhein wake-up tactic) he just sees a giant muscular man and in this semi-conscious state his mind connects to the first and most logical thing: Mauga. So he shoots awake shouting and maybe kicking and crawling away hastily before coming to his senses. Nearby agents look into the room worried about the noise and they just see Bap apologizing profusely to a confused Rhein who wonders if his face is really that scary

[puppygirlsounding]

Big crazy day journal post time

So, woke up this morning for work.

Gotcha! That's already a lie, I woke up well before my alarm because I've been having chronic sleep issues. I have a history of sleep apnea and insomnia, but lately I've had a whole new issue. To put it simply, once I've been woken up I can't get back to sleep. Doesn't matter if it's just to go to the bathroom, or a loud sound. This has been an ongoing problem for weeks, and I knew by the time my alarm went off I would not make it through today ok. So I took DECISIVE ACTION and called out from work. If you're reading this and don't know me that well, yes that is DECISIVE for me. Immediately knew I had to arrange a doctor's appointment to get a note, but once I had set out to do it I realized this something I should have been more prescient about in the first place, with my appointment to get my HRT dosage upped this Friday especially. So I got my exhausted boans out of bed, set up with a local urgent care, and had a nice morning talk with my beautiful girlfriend ^w^

It took me a bit longer to get going than I would like to admit, but once I finally got myself going I felt determined. Like I was about to take on something big, how ironic. I get dressed, order an Uber and head on out. The ride was nothing significant. made me very glad that even though I skipped breakfast, I still took my allergy meds. My city is getting ass blasted by a dust storm atm.

Get to the clinic, immediately realize how different it is. I thought I was heading to an urgent care, I had actually went to an ER. Apparently they do operate as standalone setups outside of hospitals. This turned out to probably be for the best.

I immediately get seen by a doctor and two nurses, the place is dead empty somehow even though it's one of maybe 3 Urgent care/ER's open on Sunday here. I start to get nervous progressively as I get brought in, until finally I get the question. So I'm dreading it, but of course with my health in mind I bring up my HRT when I'm asked about my medication. This is when my anxiety kicks into gear. The doctors don't do anything that makes me feel so, it's just my default state because of the conservative state I live in.

All things considered I said it with very little hesitation and continued on the screening. The doctor seeing me joined us by this point. After going over my symptoms, the sleep loss, chronic gut pains, etc. he immediately decided to put me on a I.V.

This quite stunned me, and for all intents and purposes this is the turning point of our story.

It clicked with me in this moment, I called out of work thinking I was doing it for my health. Yet up until right then I was only there to get a note. I thought I was playing this up to make sure I had an excuse to skip. Only after listing all of my very real symptoms, and seeing the look of concern on these men's faces did it hit me.

I had been ignoring my own health to get by for weeks.

So while still processing this, they guided me to the bed, briefed me on what they were going to give me and prepped the IV. I could immediately tell this doctor was good, he tried to reassure me by saying it was mostly because I seemed dehydrated. I knew what he really meant, he saw straight through me and all the friendliness to how haggard I really was. The nurse began the IV and I warned them I was going to look away because of my past with needles. The doctor held my hands to calm me.

After setting everything up, the two men left to get me a cocktail of at least three meds. Even though it was for such a short time they were gone, it was enough. All of this hit me, I looked down at my feet in the hospital bed, inspected the new hole in my arm. I ended up here thinking I was just subduing my anxiety by getting a stupid work note. I had actually needed medical attention and was too busy surviving to stop and realize.

So whether through sheer coincidence or subconscious push I was here. All of the gravity of the sleep deprivation, stomach problems and chronic pain hit me at once. I started crying so much I hid my face in my hat. I only barely got to start by the time my nurse came back with the IV bag. Being able to tell how upset I was, and knowing I would be on the IV for a while; he very clinically, yet kindly assured me. Explained the meds, got me tissues, even a drink. As swiftly as he arrived, he left. Closing the door to the room, killed the lights and drew the curtain for me.

Knowing what this man, who seemed wholly uninterested initially interpreted, it all hit me.

I began sobbing

Tears streaming down my face

Deeply saddened by how I had let myself get like this. Maybe my level of shame here is hard to understand. I only recently feel like I have gotten true love in my life. Both platonic and romantic. I have people who care about me so deeply now. I want more than anything to see what they see in me, and at the very least take care of myself. To love them back.

Realizing I got so wrapped up in my own mental comfort blanket broke me a little. I had gone back to just surviving again.

So I spent the next hour roughly, resting, fretting over my IV, drying my tears.

I calmed down a good while before my nurse came back. He removed the IV, and the doctor came to brief me. The good news is my samples came back fine. Like the doctor easily intuited, it was all the stress. I was prescribed some anxiety meds alongside stomach meds to control the gastritis symptoms.

The doctor the whole time was unbelievably sweet, asked me for my pronouns as soon as he knew about the HRT. Kept telling me about his stepson and his experiences. I even got called young lady (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

It really helped pick me up after all the crying.

By the time I'm all put together and ready to set up my ride home the weather has worsened exponentially. It takes a while to get a ride because of the dust and wind, but I am so glad I got who I did ^w^

I ended up being picked up by a sweet guy, we went on our way to my pharmacy to get my meds and had a lovely conversation on the way. I cracked him up with some bad mu-metal jokes lol

When we get there, I tell him I'll be in and out to drop them off so we can go back to my place and finish the Uber ride. Unbeknownst to me this was not going to happen.

So in order I:

Found out my CVS no longer takes my insurance.

My HRT meds I got through them were probably also not insured and I wasn't told then

It would be a minimum of $70 I didn't have for the meds

And it would be a 45 minute wait because they didn't start prepping one

So I start to panic a little. I go back to my driver and explain the situation. I tell him I'll just have him take me home and I'll come back. Instead, he insists on waiting with me. Random guy I just met, doesn't mind an hour of his day gone. I'm floored at this point. Here begins a tedious, uninteresting back and forth. Where I run from the pharmacy counter and back to his car with updates multiple times. Eventually after they had dropped the ball so many times, and changed medicine prices on me at least twice.

This guy.

This fucking guy.

He offers to take me, off his own dollar to the pharmacy that will take my insurance. If I wasn't already this tired I would have started crying again.

So after a very awkward exchange with the CVS pharmacy rep, I cancelled my prescriptions through them and headed out

We chat the entire way to the pharmacy, It's one of the kind inside a Walmart. We hit it off just incredibly well considering I'm running off maybe 9 hours of sleep over the last 3-4 days. Enjoy our conversation the whole way. When we get out there, he even agrees to join me inside, wait for my meds with me and everything.

At this point I almost can't believe this guy is real. He straight up tells me he's writing the time spent off working as his good deed for the day. All dedicated to his grandma who raised him. Absolute fucking legend.

He makes me so comfortable I start telling him about my family. About being kicked out, and not even bothering with telling them about my transition.

He acted surprised when I told him I was trans, but he seemed to have already been cautious about gendering me, so I think he was just being nice.

We ended up spending half an hour just chatting in the kitchenware section. Talking about our lives, like we were old schoolmates or something.

Eventually I get my meds, he dotes on me the whole time. Reinforcing how obviously drained I must look. It was incredibly touching though, none of it felt forced, and made me feel seen.

We leave the store and he offers to take me to go get some food ( I had casually mentioned not eating yet today while at the pharmacy counter)

We grabbed a quick bite and headed to my apartment, still chatting the entire way. By the time we got there it felt like we were already friends. While part of it is definitely how amazingly friendly this guy is. I also feel comfortable saying it wouldn't have been anywhere near as friendly if this was the old me. Even with the shame of letting myself neglect my health still fresh, I can feel how much I've opened up. No matter how corny it sounds, people can recognize whether or not you're genuine. Be yourself.

By the time we make it back I'm starting to feel the exhaustion creep back in, but we say a very happy goodbye and exchange contact info.

So that was my day ^w^

I prolly could have shortened it down a bunch, made it more interesting to read, blablahblahblahblah...

If you made it this far and are thinking any of that, while you do have a point you are missing mine.

Today more than anything was a learning experience for me. It started with asking my girlfriend for comfort, and ended with making a new friend. Even when it seems hard. Even when you feel like a burden. Reach out. You're worth it. Whether that's directly to your loved one, or expressing your troubles openly so kind souls can lend a hand, it doesn't matter. Just learn to lean on people a little, even if you've got burned in the past like me.

Thank you if you read this far, I don't expect anybody to but my mutuals but who knows.

Special thanks and love to:

Vera, my wonderful girlfriend

Charlie, my support goblin

Cecil, because I know you'll read this

Skylar, for helping out a stranger

- Jen

[withdrawingramen]

murderer

inspired off a prompt by @whumpasaurus101! the link to the prompt is right here. CW: lady/female whump, reference to past interrogation torture (whumpee was a minor/17 y.o back then), referenced institutional whump, general mental/psychological whump such as overworked whumpee forced to watch a recording of their past torture, reference to CPTSD symptoms, creepy & controlling whumper with a thing for recording whump and abusing authority. - Sihyeon knew the man in the room. The way he sat oh so comfortably in Kurai's chair, the way he twirled the recorder in his hand. The way his lips curled up in seemingly harmful mischief. The way his eyes glinted with excitement at her sight.

Her stomach churned inside her. "Are you done with today's agenda, 79?" he asked her calmly, fidgeting with the device in his hand. "Yes, Sir." she replied as casually as she could. She'd grown to be an expert at masking her fear a long time ago. Sihyeon knew everything about Kurai Sorano's behaviors. If he clenched his fists, stop talking and prepare. If he glared, it was her queue to look down. But for Martin Hayes, the only thing she needed to look out for was his goddamned recorder. "Good, good. I believe you've done this before your supervisor before?" Martin gestured at the papers before him, still playing with his camera or whatever. "Yes, Sir." She gulped, but couldn't stop her voice from trembling. The man smiled. "I can see this is bothering you, so I'll stop." Martin said, feigning sympathy. He placed the gadget beside him. Sihyeon eyed him warily. She sighed, deciding she just wanted her work done with. Morning had begun for her at 4 am itself, when she'd woken up drenched in cold sweat, heart beating out of her chest. She didn't know why, but couldn't bring herself to go back to bed. Her pills were missing too. Sihyeon thought of the dorm-cleaners accidentally throwing them away... On the other hand, she barely had any food in her stomach. She'd thrown up the little porridge provided at breakfast today as well, still tipsy from the sleep deprivation she put herself through, and her chronic pain was just a cherry on the top. Those were the least of her problems, now. Yet, she forced herself to walk towards Kurai's desk. All she wanted was to get out as soon as possible. Sihyeon almost melted into the chair when Martin waved his hand in front of her. "Stand." She obeyed, although every muscle in her body felt tender and every movement made her wince. She shifted the chair back into position, facing her temporary supervisor. Her eyes drifted to the client requests for the day, but the first thing that caught her eye was the file of 0913. Who was 0913 anyway? She retraced her memory, recalling the young girl who she came across a week ago, at the pharmacy. Sihyeon massaged her shoulders, aching from the lack of rest. She'd been dealing with a headache for the past few hours, too. "I swear, the public will ask us the most stupid favors. The first one that sent in a request today asked for a Device with the qualifications of a tutor for her son majoring in supernatural activity...do they think of us as some tutoring service?" Martin chided, as if both of them were well-acquainted colleagues. He noticed her interest in 0913's file. Come to think of it, she was the same young girl, of around 19, Sihyeon had found crying outside the dorms. "Oh, this kid?" He grabbed the file and held it up. "She's being transferred back to her old department. I'm the one handling her case." "Why's she going back? Wasn't she mistreated there?" Sihyeon questioned. "Maladjustment." Martin replied, shrugging. "Or is it because she threatened to out you for revealing her address to the people who harassed her?" She blurted out. He stopped looking through the papers. Martin Hayes looked up, his gaze now fixated on her. "So you know." The realization hit her. Said something she wasn't supposed to. She looked right back at him, however. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. A bland yet stern look. He was the first to break eye contact, chuckling lightly. "Did you enjoy the breakfast served today?" "What?" "Clearly not, you seem to have...been a little too incapacitated to have anything." Martin took something out of his pocket and shook it. "You're on medication for fibromyalgia, aren't you?" Those were her pills, indeed. Sihyeon let out a shaky breath, staring at her pills. The ones he'd somehow snatched from her room. "Why do you have them?" The man played around with the tiny bottle. "Dunno, thought you didn't need them, since you're clearly fine." Sihyeon clearly wasn't "fine." "Give it back." Her voice quivered, anger and shame building up inside her.

 "Ohoho, so feisty yet so disobedient." He put the pills back in his pocket, and Sihyeon would have reached out to grab them back if he hadn't gotten up from the seat. Sihyeon instantly backed away, now looking down. Of course he'd do something like this. She gripped the edge of the table, the pain in her muscles becoming more intense, now that she was aware of it. "Do you remember when we first met during your little tantrum?" He walked across the room. "You were much younger. But I'm sure I'm ingrained into your memory. Because I remember everything about you." There was a twinge in her ribs and her shoulders instantly slumped. "The way you were all tied up, bloody and bruised, all for a crime you didn't commit...the way everyone was out for your throat after Reg's death.." He stopped talking beside her, his cursed recorder in his hand. "Look at it with all your attention, hm?" Martin hummed, practically shoving the screen in her face. He pressed the 'play' button. Sihyeon froze. "You're actually one of my most successful victims. The outcome was perfect." A singular recording played on the screen. Sihyeon's eyes widened. The chair, a man with a huge wooden stick, and her. The man in the video fooled around with the stick before hitting the girl tied to chair with it, right below the ribs. Sihyeon flinched when she saw the tiny figure in the screen contract in the chair. Another pang ran up her spine down to her ribs. Martin Hayes put a hand around her shoulder. She shuddered, now clutching her stomach at the phantom pain. "It was entertaining to look at your recordings over and over again. Every single hit that Kurai and Saruhi delivered because of sheer rage. Every bucket of water we had to pour on you every damn time you passed out. Every scream that I got out of you. Do you know how enticing it is to me, 79?" Every nerve of hers was screaming. All the neurons in her brain worked against her to bring up every minute memory from those 24 hours five years ago. Overwhelming and agonizing. That is what it was. She'd tried her best to burn the torture out of her mind. Months and years worth of half-assed counselling from uninterested "professionals" and medication to bury it deep inside her, and she still did. Yet somehow it always found itself back to her. "It was a shame you couldn't handle me. I kept taking you out with one punch to that pretty face of yours, so they didn't let me continue. Tell me, did I really hit that hard?" Sihyeon's knees were jelly at this point. She'd felt like this before so many times. Just raw, utter helplessness accompanied by unbearable pain. The video in front of her kept playing on loop. The girl in the chair, the man, and the stick, all connecting together. "There are others too, of course. I made sure my colleague from the other facility you were at did her part as well. Maybe you'd fancy seeing yourself electrocuted?" Sihyeon's throat was dry, insides threatening to twist and twist until she threw up. Everything closed in on her and pummeled her senses. She didn't realize how tensed and on guard she was until she dropped to the floor. It didn't dawn on her that she was actually fucking exhausted the entire day, until she was at his feet. Martin Hayes stopped the recordings. "You've had enough? Okay." He kneeled beside her, playing with the gadget. "Smile for the camera, 79. The highlight of today is you kneeling before me." Sihyeon tried to steady her breathing, but all that left her were gasps of disbelief, burning shame and anger, collaborating with her pain and exhaustion. She didn't look up at the man. "Be very, very careful of what you do next with me around, 79. Step out of line one day and maybe, I don't know, you'll wake up with your videos all over the net." He pat her nonchalantly on her shoulder.

"Everyone will know what you did to deserve that, you murderer." His fist collided with her jaw a few seconds before she lost consciousness. Sihyeon had grown to be an expert at masking her fear a long time ago, or so she thought.

[lifestyle-hub]

Sleeping In on Weekends: Healthy Habit or Myth?

Image Credit: Ketut Subiyanto

After a long week of running around, cramming deadlines, and, let’s be honest, not getting enough sleep, those extra hours under the covers feel like a well-deserved reward. But, does sleeping in on weekends really help us catch up on sleep, or are we just fooling ourselves 🧐?

The Truth About "Catching up" on Sleep

We've all been there (at least I have) burning the candle at both ends Monday to Friday, then trying to make up for it by sleeping until noon on Saturday. It feels good, right? But the science says otherwise. When we don't get adequate sleep during the week, our bodies don’t just press a reset button on the weekend.

Sleep researchers (the smart nerdy guys) have discovered something important, “you can’t really catch up on lost sleep”. Sure, a few extra hours might help you feel more refreshed temporarily, but serious sleep deprivation can't be erased by two days of sleeping in. Your body and brain miss out on deep, restorative sleep, and no amount of weekend lie-ins can replace that.

In fact, studies suggest that irregular sleep patterns like skimping on sleep during the week and overcompensating on the weekends can mess with your internal clock, making it harder to establish a healthy routine. So, while that Saturday morning snooze might feel wonderful, it’s not a quick fix.

How Your Body Tries to Compensate

Now, here’s where it gets interesting, (your body is smarter than you think). When you repeatedly cut corners on sleep, your body compensates in subtle ways. It might trigger more light sleep instead of deep sleep, or even alter your mood and energy levels throughout the day.

But note that your body’s compensation mechanisms can only do so much. Over time, chronic sleep deprivation leads to issues like weakened immune function, mood swings, and increased risk of serious conditions like heart disease and diabetes. In other words, nature tries to balance the scales, but you’re not getting away with poor sleep habits scot-free.

Breakfast: A Helpful Tool

So, what can you do if you're struggling with sleep? “Don't skip breakfast”.

Yeah, yeah, I know it might sound unrelated, but eating a nutritious breakfast can actually help regulate your body’s internal clock, or circadian rhythm, which controls your sleep-wake cycle.

When you have a consistent morning routine that includes breakfast, it signals to your body that it’s time to wake up and be active. This sets you up for a more predictable sleep cycle later on.

Plus, a balanced breakfast can help stabilize your blood sugar levels, which might reduce those mid-afternoon crashes that often have us reaching for caffeine, more on that in a bit.

Go Easy on Your Coffee

Speaking of caffeine, let’s talk about the role it plays in this whole sleep equation. If you’ve been relying on coffee to power through your tired days, you’re not alone.

Sure, it gives you that quick jolt of energy, but it also disrupts your sleep cycle, especially if consumed later in the day. Even if you fall asleep after your afternoon espresso, the quality of your sleep might be compromised, leading to that groggy, sluggish feeling when you wake up.

Instead of relying on caffeine, try focusing on hydration and energy-boosting foods like fruits, nuts, or a quick walk outside to reset your energy levels naturally. Trust me, your future self will thank you when you can fall asleep more easily at night.

Tips for Better Sleep (No Lie-ins Required)

Here are a few tips to help you get a better night’s sleep without needing to play catch-up:

1. Create a Consistent Sleep Schedule: Going to bed and waking up at the same time every day helps regulate your body’s internal clock. Yes, even on weekends.

2. Limit Screen Time Before Bed: The blue light from screens can interfere with your melatonin levels, making it harder to fall asleep. Try to shut off your devices at least an hour before bedtime.

3. Wind Down with a Routine: Incorporate relaxing activities into your bedtime routine, like reading a book, taking a warm bath, or practicing deep breathing exercises.

4. Get Moving During the Day: Regular physical activity promotes better sleep, just make sure you’re not exercising too close to bedtime.

5. Keep Your Sleep Environment Comfortable: 'Different strokes work for different folks' but a cool, dark, and quiet room is key to falling and staying asleep.

With all that said, it doesn’t mean you need to give up the occasional lazy Saturday morning, but don’t let it become your go-to strategy for managing sleep.

After all, consistency is key, and small changes to your daily routine can have a big impact on your overall health.

Signing out, Kad👌

References

Harvard Medical School. (2020). "The Effects of Sleep Deprivation on Your Body."

National Sleep Foundation. (2019). "Caffeine and Sleep."

[yoichichi]

Their Favorite Place to Kiss You

warning(s): none

a/n: I just feel like they needed something sweet damnit :( i love them that’s all - my inbox is always open :)

characters: mikasa, armin, levi, hange, eren, connie, sasha, jean, zeke, & reiner

Mikasa

Your eyelids

Mikasa has always been on the more soft spoken side when it comes to intimacy, sometimes she finds it’s even hard to reach out and hold your hand. She often opts for brushing her knuckles against yours and just hopes you get the gist. But when you’re asleep it’s different. She gets to reach out and run her fingertips delicately across your face and it gives her the perfect opportunity to lean in and press feather light kisses to your closed eyes, and she always hopes her love is strong enough that her affection communicates into your dreams. Please give this shy angel all the love :,(((

Armin

Your cheek

It’s just the purest way for him to show you he’s listening and cares really :(! You’ll be on a date and he’s holding your hand and he’ll just lean on over and place a little smooch there while he’s got this little smile going on, before he tells you to continue with your story, “I’m listening sweetie.” It was also the way he hyped himself up to be more physical with you as the relationship progressed. Baby boy was a little nervous for your first kiss so he worked himself up to it by acting all sly and leaving the gentlest of gentlest kisses on your soft skin. He also loves kissing any birth marks or freckles you may have on your face, they just draw his attention so much and he finds them so cute he has to leave some sort of appreciation for them. And now, kissing your cheek/face has just become his favorite place to leave hellos and goodbyes. It’s even better when he can feel your cheeks get plump from the way you smile when he leaves a kiss.

Levi

Your hands

He has a nasty habit of overworking himself and pushing his body to the limits physically. Staying up late and depriving himself of sleep, hunching over a desk and straining his eyes from all the reading and work, getting frequent headaches from how strong his focus has been - usually meaning he’s forgotten to drink enough water that day. It all takes toll in his tired eyes and the sore muscles in his body, the ones most tense in his upper back. The only good that comes from this is how easy it makes it to strip him away from work if need be. Just running your hands up his back to knead at the muscle between his shoulders and neck has him sighing and closing his eyes, reaching a hand up to grab onto one of yours and place thankful kisses along your knuckles. Now you’ve successfully convinced him to lay in bed while you softly run your hands over his face and body, only stopping when he grabs them to place more kisses. He hopes it’s good enough at showing you how grateful he is for you in his life <3

Hange

Your forehead

They call you their little stroke of genius always and this just kind of seals the deal for them teehee. Whenever they get any kind of idea - good, bad, small, big, dangerous, you name it - they’re placing a kiss on your forehead and hollering before they run off to execute said idea. You have an idea and they’re praising you on how smart you are while they kiss you repeatedly there, kind of like they’re your older, invasive relative or something. It’s also their favorite way to greet you whether it’s them coming home or waking you up first thing in the morning. It’s just always the perfect blank space for them to lay their love on you and get your attention. And if you have a big forehead they’ll mention how it gives them more space to love up on hehehehehe <3

Eren

Your neck

Cuddly boy, cuddly boy! He loves bothering you and trying to get your attention, and he finds it’s the easiest when he has his face buried in your neck and leaving wet kisses there. He also finds it’s such a versatile place for affection. If he’s feeling clingy, he can come up from behind and wrap his arms around you while he whines into the crook of your neck demanding you pay attention to him by kissing or blowing raspberries there until you’re giggling and giving in. When he’s sleepy and cuddling he can stretch his face up to whisper into your neck about heading to bed and finalizing his wish with a soft peck - barely even a kiss. If he’s in a mood it’s certainly an easy place to convince you to join him. And if he’s just feeling soft - which is almost always - he has no problem in smiling into that spot between your neck and shoulder and giving little love bites or any form of attention there. He’s just a clingy boy and it’s the easiest way to get what he wants - and hide how red his face can get from you.

Connie

The top of your head

It’s a funny thing he’s started doing in passing moments that’s just made his days so much brighter. You two will be bustling about in the kitchen cooking dinner and when you pass by him he just has to grab the sides of your face and reach over to kiss the top of your head with an obnoxious mwah to top it off. Or if he’s dropping you off he obviously has to reach over the middle console to pull your head aggressively towards him to leave another silly kiss - he likes it even more when you act “annoyed” with him over it. But it isn’t always silly, he finds it a really good way to let you know he hasn’t forgotten about how sweet you are to him. You’ll be laying in his chest while you two watch a movie and he’ll lean down to leave a long and quiet kiss into your hair, reminding you of his fondness.

Sasha

Your lips

It’s such a simple but sweet place to kiss! Nothing makes her happier than leaning in and giving a quick peck before she’s off to her busy day, her nose usually bumping into yours cause she’s being a little too quick about it, but it never fails to make you all giddy when you feel her smile against your lips. It’s also her favorite time to kiss you after you’ve had something sweet. First she just wiped the corner of your mouth with her thumb to collect the sticky syrup that collected there from your breakfast a few minutes prior, sucking the sweetness from the finger and humming to herself. Next it was replaced with a simple kiss to the corner of your mouth or wherever you had yet to clean up a crumb - sometimes her tongue would innocently dart out to get a better taste. Finally it became just a regular sweet kiss, even happier than before, when she could still taste the honey in your mouth from the biscuits you’d made for lunch.

Jean

Your shoulders

He adores running his hands up and down your arms and it just goes so well with leaving a few light kisses at the top of your shoulders. He also feels like it’s such an intimate part of the body in that for him to place a kiss there means he’s physically close to you in a way he treasures immensely. Like when he embraces you in a long, warm hug for whatever reason, getting to bend down and leave a long sensual kiss placed there feels so serious to him, even if you’re ticklish and it has you giggling. There’s just something so serene for him when he’s able to feel that calm and close with you that he always finds himself compelled to lean over and even crane his neck to remind you how special you are to him with a shoulder kiss. What can I say, he just loves em!

Zeke

Your thighs

It seems like he’s ALWAYS passed out with his head in your lap. He says it’s not his fault but yours because you’re the one who always lets him rest his head there when he’s home from work, running your fingers through his hair. How is he supposed to stay awake when you’re doing that? And don’t get him started on how you run your thumb over his brow bone and down the bridge of his nose before going back up and starting again. It’s like you want him to take a nap on your thighs! Which you kinda do cause it’s the only time you get to see this mf relaxed and quiet in your presence if he’s not reading or doing some other nerd shit. He always makes sure to press sweet kisses to the tops of them when he wakes up, along with chuckling and tickling you with his scruff. He also likes to give you massages when you’re laying in bed which always somehow leads to him rubbing your calf’s while he closes his eyes and gently kisses the soft skin on your inner thighs. He’s just a sucker for em and you can’t tell me otherwise!

Reiner

Your back

Oh this guy :( He’s a chronic big spoon, no matter your size. It’s just always so soothing for you to be in his arms with his hands resting at your tummy, sometimes absentmindedly kneading the soft skin there as he falls asleep. But he never stays that way, he ends up naturally scooting down throughout the night so when he wakes up his face is nuzzled into the middle of your back with his arms wrapped even tighter around your midsection. You can always tell when he wakes up by the soft flutter of his eyelashes against your skin and the tightening squeeze on your torso, followed by soft open mouth kisses up your spine and all over your shoulder blades. Of course the way he whispers, “hi”, into your ear once he’s reached the top let’s you know, too.

this made me so unbelievably soft omfg. I just felt like we needed some soft content and I’ve been missing them :((( if you guys like this and would want it I can make a pt.2 with some characters I didnt include in this one :)! Jus lemme know if it’s something you guys would want! Anyways I hope you enjoy, I love talking to you in my inbox, and if you’d like to be on a taglist jus lemme know and I’ll happily oblige :)

requests are open

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @peachysimp @sofi-yeager

[yourforgottenbookshelf]

Stand By Me (rewrite) – Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: This a rewrite of a ficlet I wrote like, two years back, because why not. You can find the original here.

Word count: 673

Your finger hovered over the “call” button on your screen for a good minute before you decided to throw it on your bed. It was a little after midnight, and he would be sleeping anyway. Still, you desperately needed to talk to Stiles- you desperately needed to know that he was alright.

The truth was, despite maintaining your composure, you had no idea how to handle the events that occurred the last two days. You could still hear Scott’s voice, repeating the words “Stiles is missing” over and over again. You could still hear Stiles’ voice repeating, “It’s called Frontotemporal Dementia, it’s what killed my mom” over and over again. This loop in your mind didn’t seem to come to an end.

You were a chronic insomniac, but this kind of sleep deprivation you were experiencing was painful because you couldn’t recall how long you had stayed awake. Sleeping pills didn’t seem to be much help either.

You knew what you needed- you needed him. His touch, his scent, his warmth- him. You wanted to call him, but you didn’t- it seemed like a selfish thing to do because you knew he was as exhausted as you were, if not more.

You kept biting your lips until you could taste the metal of blood in your mouth in an attempt to calm down before your tears became sobs. Your phone vibrating, thankfully, made you instantly snap out of your thoughts.

“Stiles?” you asked as soon as you picked up the phone. His heavy breathing from the other line had you agonizing before he finally spoke up. “Can I come to see you?” he asked. His voice was oddly calm but devastated at the same time.

Instinctively, you glanced at the flip clock on your nightstand. “It’s almost one-thirty in the morning,” you pointed out, a sigh escaping your lips. “Do you want me to come to pick you up?” you questioned after a moment of silence. “No, I got this,” Stiles answered in a weak voice, and you could already hear his Jeep keys jiggling. You weren’t quite sure it was safe for him to drive, but it was only a five-minute drive- hence, you gave in.

“Okay,” you whispered, “I will be waiting for you.” And with that, the line went dead.

No longer than ten minutes later, you had Stiles laying on your chest, his arm hugging your torso tightly. Your room was so quiet only the sound of your breathing could be heard, which actually calmed you down to the point you were moments away from being claimed by sleep.

“Stiles?” you suddenly asked, shooting a sitting position, causing him to sit up as well. It was too dark to distinguish his features, so your hand reached to cup his face- sure enough, you felt his tears moistening your palms like they had moistened your shirt.

“What’s wrong?” you whispered. Stiles let out a whimper. “I don’t know,” he said in a broken voice- you could tell he was really trying to hold back his tears to no avail. And you couldn’t blame him. Something happened to him the night of the eclipse, something he couldn’t pinpoint, and it had visible consequences.

“Something is fucking with my mind,” he cried. You couldn’t help silently crying, too, as all you could do was hold him and whisper soothing words in his ear. “We’ll figure it out, I promise,” you kept repeating.

When you and Stiles finally calmed down, the sun could be seen rising from your window, and you were both on the verge of collapse. “I think we need to sleep,” you said softly, running your fingers through Stiles’ messy hair, though he was already half-asleep. He didn’t respond, which was your cue to finally go to sleep, too.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” was the last thing to hear before you drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

You didn’t know for how long you were asleep, but when you woke up, Stiles was nowhere to be found.

[whump-a-la-mode]

A hero is in a coma. Villain visits them every single day, loosing sleep, not eating, their life is now completely focused around the empty hospital room.

Until hero wakes up and notices how sick villain has become due to anxiety and not taking care of themselves. Caretaking?

This is such a cute ask!! There’s only a little caretaking, but as always I’d be happy to write some more ^^

To all non-Americans out there, I am so sorry for using our weird 12 hour clock in this piece

CW//Comas, medical settings, just some horrible self care, mentions of explosions, bad hygiene, sleep deprivation, low self esteem, blaming self, strong language

“How are they doing?”

The voice alone was enough to make Doctor jump, spinning on their heels with such quickness that their shoes squealed on the tiled hospital floor.

Oh. It was just Villain.

Just Villain. It was a ridiculous thought to have, and they were well aware of that fact. Only a few short weeks ago, the name would have been enough to make any well-minded civilian tremble. It was bad enough, to hear it spoken on the news. Worse, to hear it not coming from a television-- in some cases, that name was all the warning one was given, before a terrible fate befell them. A nameless causality in the never-ending battle of good and evil.

But, now, there was no terror associated with it.

Most hospitals, Doctor was well aware, were fortunate enough that villains did not often pass through their doors. When they did, in the best cases, it was to seek treatment. In the worst cases, they had far more destructive intentions.

Their hospital, however, was an exception. There is a saying, that one can get used to anything, and with their experience, they now believed it to be more than true.

Doctor sighed, letting their shoulders fall.

“Visiting hours are over, Villain. You need to go home.”

The villain’s eyes widened, flickering momentarily to the nearest clock. In fact, it was past the end of visiting hours. Well past. Night rounds were about to begin, even.

It was simply so easy to forget Villain, hunched over in their little plastic chair.

Especially with those big, pathetic eyes with which they regarded Doctor.

“I can’t leave.” They pleaded. “Not yet. Can’t I stay just another hour?”

“No, Villain. We’ve been over this. You can come back tomorrow, bright and early, right at seven.”

“But it’s eleven, now! That’s eight hours. Eight hours they’ll be alone.”

“Not alone.” Doctor bit their lower lip. They knew full well that the person before them could render them to a charred corpse in mere seconds, if they so wished. Their tense, skipping heartbeat wouldn’t let them forget it. But, there was no malice in their eyes. Not an ounce. Only that terrible, pitiful sorrow. The sorrow that never seemed to leave them. “There’s people here, all night. A whole medical staff. If anything happens, they won’t be alone. I promise.”

Villain’s lip quivered. Weren’t they supposed to be dangerous?

“You’re sure I can’t stay? Just another hour?”

“I’m sure.”

“O-Okay.” The villain reached into their shoulder bag, and, for a moment, Doctor nearly pressed the nearest panic alarm. Yet, they withdrew no weapon. Instead, Villain took a small, spiral-bound notebook in hand, offering it. “Here are my notes. Um, just so you know. What they did today.”

Doctor’s gaze downcast to the paper. They already had three of these, piled on their desk. Filled to the brim. This one had only recently been started.

The page the notebook was turned to displayed the same thing as all the rest: Impeccably neat handwriting, dividing the page into half hour blocks. In each, letters of equal quality described the patient’s condition, down to the most minute detail.

3:30 - Minor twitching of the eyelids accompanied by singular irregular heartbeat.

4:00 - No abnormalities.

4:30 - Twitching of left index finger.

5:00 - Abnormal breath at around 5:12.

It was the best-kept record of a comatose patient’s condition that Doctor had ever seen. Even if it wasn’t exactly helpful, with how repetitive the patient’s movements tended to be, it was downright impressive.

“Thank you, Villain. I’ll tell the receptionist to expect you at seven?”

“Is there any chance I could come in earlier than that?”

“No. I’m sorry. Visiting hours start at seven.”

“I’m quiet. You know I’m quiet. I won’t be a bother to anybody.”

“I know, Villain. If...” They knew they needed to say something, or this argument would continue all night long. “If anything happens, we have your number on file. I’ll call you myself.”

“Really?” Their eyes widened. “You promise?”

“I promise. Now, you need to go home.”

“Okay.”

“You won’t hide in the bathroom and try to stay late this time?”

“You saw?”

“Everyone saw, Villain. Now, you’ve gotta skedaddle.”

The villain nodded hesitantly, looking to their shoes as they turned, moving down the hallway. As they left, Doctor could not help but mutter in their wake:

“And get some rest.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Six weeks.

Those two words echoed hollowly in Villain’s mind as they plodded along the damp sidewalk, lit only by the dewy echoes of streetlights overhead. The hour was late enough, and the city tired enough, that the streets were nearly deserted-- a state they were in so very rarely.

Their henchmen had spoken to them so many times, lecturing them that moving through the city’s depths, alone and unprotected, was terribly dangerous. Any hero, or any vigilante too cocky for their own good, could try their luck in an ambush.

But, Villain could hardly bring themself to care.

Six weeks.

That was all they cared about.

Six weeks since Hero had moved. Six weeks since they’d spoken, since they’d awoken. Exactly six, now.

Exactly six weeks since...

Villain’s hands clenched to fists at their sides, overgrown nails digging into the meat of their palms.

Since they’d made the biggest mistake of their life. Since the two sworn nemeses, Hero and Villain, light and dark, good and evil, had had their final battle. An industrial sabotage gone wrong.

They should have known better! Better than to use their pyrokenisis in an oil refinery.

But, that hadn’t. They hadn’t been thinking. They never thought! They were so stupid, so reckless, so careless...

Villain’s ears still rung from the explosion.

Their injuries meant nothing, even as they still throbbed. No. Because, for the last six weeks, they had been awake. Moving. Talking.

Hero hadn’t been so lucky.

When they at last arrived at their HQ, the halls were silent. Life existed only in the form of a scattering of guards, nodding their respects, but making no other gestures.

It was with weary legs that Villain ascended to their bedroom. They hardly noticed its state-- they’d grown used to the scatterings of clothes and papers. Instead, upon opening the door, their eyes snapped to the bed.

More specifically, the item upon it. They rushed to it, yanking it off the mussed blankets.

A book. A note, upon its cover.

“Went to bed before I could give this to you. It’s that book you wanted - Henchman”

Villain removed the note, far more interested in the cover it hid.

A Neurologist’s Guide to Chronic Vegetative States

There were more than enough pages within to last them until sunrise; until visiting hours at last recommenced.

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At 5:40, the sun began its ascent, bathing the sky in a dull hue of blue.

When six o’ clock came, the first rays of light could be seen, flashing over the horizon.

With the strike of 6:10, Villain placed down their book. They were only around halfway through-- wandering eyes and brief minutes of dozing lowering the speed at which their foggy mind could process the medical textbook.

They would have more than enough time to read, the next night. The book didn’t matter. What mattered was that visiting hours would commence in 50 minutes, exactly.

Twenty minutes to walk to the hospital. Meaning that, to get there early, they needed to leave in fifteen.

Rubbing sleep from their eyes, Villain rose from their chair, knees popping and cracking all the way to the bedroom door. Quickly, they changed into the cleanest clothes they could find, if only for the sake of appearances, before heading out.

Showering could wait. Showers took time, time that could be spend watching. Reading. Taking notes.

Helping. Doing anything, anything they could to help.

Emerging into the hallway, they startled a moment. The lights had already been turned on, despite the fact that their henchmen never awoke this early. Perhaps they had simply forgotten to turn them off the night prior.

Yet, there were noises, from downstairs.

There was no fear left in their body to feel. Justifications were quickly made, and they ran down the stairs.

Entering the kitchen, a scent hit Villain, forceful as a gust of wind. The scent of food-- warm and fresh and garnished with garlic.

Before the stove, Henchman stood. Out of all those Villain employed, Henchman was the least likely to be awake at such an hour. Often, they dragged themself from bed well after ten.

Yet, here they stood, flipping a pancake in a skillet.

“Hey, boss.” Their henchman turned, a grin glimmering upon their face. “I’m almost done here. Get yourself something to drink.”

Villain blinked.

“What... are you doing?”

“Making breakfast? I thought that’d be pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But... Why? You never eat breakfast.”

“Yeah. It’s not for me. ‘s for you, boss.”

They shook their head, glancing at the clock. 6:17.

“I’m not hungry. Besides, I really need to get going.”

“Boss.” There was an endeared, yet frustrated, tone to the voice. “When was the last time you ate?”

“You made me eat a granola bar yesterday.”

“And the day before that, you didn’t eat anything. So, you’re eating breakfast, if I have to shove it down your throat.”

They clenched their hands to fists.

“I don’t have time for this! Visiting hours are going to start soon. I need to be there.”

“No. You need to eat. Then you can go to the hospital.”

“You don’t get to decide that. I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Boss.” Henchman slid the pancake onto a plate before deftly stepping between their boss and the front door. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but you look like hell. I know you haven’t been sleeping. Everyone knows it. If you keep acting like this, you’re going to be the one in a hospital bed.”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Maybe that’s what I deserve. Now, fuck off. Get someone else to eat your damn pancakes.”

With those words, and furious footsteps, they emerged onto the sidewalk outside.

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When Receptionist arrived at their desk, there was already a patron, sitting in their waiting room.

A few short weeks ago, such would have been unusual. While other parts of the hospital were occupied day and night, the appointments handled by this room did not begin until the hospital actually opened-- right at seven.

Now, though, there was nothing strange about it.

Before they could so much as sit down, Villain was already moving towards them.

Receptionist could not help but note their appearance.

Working in a hospital, they had long since grown used to seeing the sick and injured. And yet, there was something particularly distressing about this case.

They supposed, it was because they had seen it happen. Usually, when patients arrived at the hospital, it was because they could no longer manage their own conditions. Their bodies were in shambles. They showed up in their damaged states.

Villain, on the other hand, had first appeared to the waiting room is relatively good health.

Then, they had begun to appear tired.

And thin.

Now, their appearance matched that of the comatose patient that they were here to see. Skin clung taught about their cheekbones, their flesh pale and eyes glazed over. Most semblances of hygiene had been abandoned entirely; some parts of their hair had even begun to mat, and dirt clung to them like caked and cracked makeup.

But, there was something else in their eyes. The sheer essence of undying compassion.

It was that alone that prevented Receptionist from sending them away.

Villain had no need to speak. As soon as they had time to sit, the hospital employee had paged the proper floor-- a sequence of buttons that had quickly become muscle memory.

“You can go up, now.” They spoke. With a wearied nod, Villain moved to begin their ceaseless watch.

Neither of them could have guessed that, an hour later, the unthinkable would come true.

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When Hero awoke, it was to the sound of a pencil, scratching at paper.

The world filled in with a terrible, exhaustion tedium. Above them, blurs of white and grey turned to a sterile, white tile, while the world about solidified to four pale, beige walls.

A hospital. They’d been in enough to recognize as such, with just how clumsy their teammates tended to be.

But why were they here, now...? Who had gotten hurt, this time? They couldn’t quite remember.

Rolling onto their side, the question was quickly answered.

Villain appeared to be on death’s doorstep, about to press the doorbell. Matted hair clung to their neck, eyes drooping and skin appearing as though there was no blood beneath it at all.

At the very least, they had made it to the hospital before suffering any serious damage.

Wait.

It was only then that Hero realized who exactly was in the room’s hospital bed.

[thehappynerd19]

How to study without being stressed out

Give yourself a greater sense of control by making a plan and then sticking to it. A plan that you don’t need to be motivated to do, in the mood to do, and also not feel like you’re forced to do. Make a plan because that’s what you choose to do.

You may be reading this as a high school or university student, and you may feel that the road to graduation will take forever. I have been there and I understand you. You have many expectations of yourself, and most likely other people (your parents and professors, for example) have expectations of you too. But right now, I want you to promise yourself that in order to move forward, you will study for yourself. Why? Because the benefits you will have from completing your studies will outweigh all the difficulties you’re experiencing now.

There are three things that can help you lower your stress.

#1. Be kind to your brain. Treat it like a friend. This friend is a genius! It’s a supercomputer that can help solve problems you encounter in life (including exams). But, it needs some extra care. I’ll get to that in a bit.

#2. Focus on the quality of your study time. Not the quantity of hours sitting at your desk. Being successful doesn’t take 12 or 16 hour days.

#3. Train you brain. Do it so it works together with you, just like a good friend should, and not against you. How do you train your brain?

✅ Make sure your plan includes studying difficult material early in the day.

Why? For most people, your brain’s peak performance happens 2-4 hours after you wake up. This is the time when your brain can focus on analytical thinking — in studying this can be reading, writing, coding, analyzing, critical thinking, or problem solving.

How early is early? If you wake up at 6, your peak times are between 8–10. The goal is to wake up as early as you can and max out your peak time.

What are the benefits? Doing your hard work early in the day allows your brain to focus fully on the problem at hand, with fewer distractions and with a lot of energy that you've gained from a restful night.

✅ Divide up your study sessions with a timer.

Review study material. Set the timer to 50 minute increments (followed by a 10-minute break) to maximize concentration; or, try the Pomodoro technique for even shorter time blocks.

Practice for the exam. Use the review questions from the textbook or create your own questions based on the most important concepts from each chapter. Write the questions down on a sheet of paper. Then, use the Pomodoro technique to give yourself a short time to answer each question.

Talk it through. As you’re going over new material for the first time, write an outline of the basic points and then read it out loud. This helps you review, recall, and retain what you’ve learned in a much better way than just silently looking over the material and writing notes.

✅ Visualize success in an important exam.

Why? This technique is called building a mental model: you imagine in detail how you expect things will go during your exam. By telling yourself a story, you train your brain to anticipate a positive outcome.

How can you do it? Take about 5 minutes to visualize what happens on exam day. Think of all the steps you will take (from receiving the exam questions to writing the answers). Anticipate which questions you may find challenging, and come up with ways in which you will attempt to give the best answer. Imagine yourself after the exam feeling good about what you’ve written.

✅ Reward yourself for your efforts.

Make time for laughter. Call a friend at the end of the day instead of watching TV. It’s important to share life experiences, both good and bad, with others. Find something funny to laugh about. Laughter will boost your happy hormones (endorphins) which will help you feel more relaxed.

Have a plan for chilling out. Prepare dinner (or help someone who’s making it for you), enjoy the meal, do a puzzle, sketch or write in your journal, read a book, or do any kind of fun project that boosts your creativity.

✅ Get enough sleep to help your brain sort out new information.

Why? Neuroscientists believe that sleep can help us learn and memorize better. What happens when we don’t get sufficient rest? Chronic sleep deprivation can reduce your cognitive abilities, negatively impact your concentration, and even reduce your IQ.

Can you optimize your sleep? Sleep on your side. According to a study published in the Journal of Neuroscience, the brain's glymphatic pathway (the exchange of two fluids, the cerebrospinal fluid in your brain and the interstitial fluid in your body) helps to eliminate “brain junk,” and this process of elimination is most effective when we sleep on our side.

How can you unwind quickly in the evening? Turn off electronics 30 minutes before bedtime. Drink non-caffeinated tea like lemon verbena or valerian root, or try a melatonin supplement (a sleep hormone that can help you fall asleep faster and improve sleep quality). When you get to bed, close your eyes and do the 4–7–8 breathing exercise: inhale through your nose for a count of 4, hold your breath for a count of 7, and exhale loudly through your mouth for a count of 8. Repeat this cycle four times.

[ketchupkio]

Pillow Talk

co-written with @mizuriii!!

Rating: G

Category: M/M

Relationship: Legend/Warriors

Words: 2123

Contents:

established relationship, the rest of the polycule is mentioned, trans male character, fluff, like some cavity inducing fluff, light angst, nightmares, prophetic dreams, phantom pain, chronic pain, comfort, Legend and Warriors being mushy, sleeping in the same bed, lullabies, contains like 1.5 references to sex lol, also a reference to Plot??? OWO???

Summary:

Legend and Warriors get some rest... or try to.

An excerpt of something that was supposed to be canon in the AU, but we didn't think hard enough about the timeline first so it's not lmao. Hope you like it!!!!!

Context: Legend, Twilight, Sky, and Wild have just come back from a excursion and traveled the whole night, not sleeping, because they got freaked out by something. Warriors couldn't sleep either because he was worried about them (...but mostly about Legend, let's be real). Legend saw him and immediately went cling! but Wars started spouting theory and strategy and that wasn't super appreciated by the sleep deprived heroes.

The hero with his face currently buried in Warriors’ scarf groaned in protest. “Babe, c’n it wait until ’ve had caffeine or a nap? Please…”

Twilight looked like he didn’t absorb half of what Wars had said. “Strategist brain is appreciated, but a nap would be good, yeah.”

"Er.... s-sorry. We've got these rooms for the next two days, so you're all welcome to head back upstairs if you want...?"

Legend tugged on his scarf, trying to get his eyes to focus enough to glare at him. “You’re coming too. Ya didn’t sleep either, dummy.”

"I-- .... okay, okay, I'm coming. I just wanted to let them know they don't have to rush."

Warriors smiled at him and let Legend push him toward the stairs.

"Your rooms are the three at the far end of the second floor, and the first right hand door on the third."

“Their room is on the third, if you wanna avoid it,” Wind sneered. Hyrule pinched his ear and Legend flipped him off before managing to successfully shove Warriors into the stairwell.

"Are you really alright?" Warriors asked, slipping an arm around Legend’s body. ".....You look exhausted, love...."

Legend hummed. “No one got hurt, but… haven’t been sleepin’ well recently. Barely got any ‘n past few days… Nightmares… ‘N I have a hard time without you...”

"....Me too. When I turn over and you're not there, it's--.... it's cold, you know? But more than cold."

Warriors kissed his temple as he led up to their room, and produced a spare key for Legend in case he wanted to get up and get breakfast before Warriors woke later on, unlocking the door with it before slipping the key into Legend's waist pouch.

"Come sleep with me, okay...? We'll actually get some rest for once."

Legend nodded, and after the door closed, he let Warriors unbuckle his belt and open his tunic. Legend would have dropped them on the floor, but Warriors laid them over the back of a chair, along with his scarf.

“Stays and boots off,” he instructed, and Legend complied with barely an insubordinate tongue sticking out in return. Warriors chuckled at him fondly as he climbed into bed and reached for him, trying to snag the hem of his shirt as he changed into something softer.

“Love you…” Legend murmured. “C’mere…”

"Your wish is my command," Warriors hummed, settling in once he was changed himself, and nestling up under Legend’s chin. His hands pressed gently against Legend’s side and his back, and Warriors took a minute just to breathe in the smell of Legend’s presence. "I love you more..."

Legend would have protested if he hadn’t been so damn tired, so all Warriors got was a (frankly adorable) grumble as the younger hero slung his arms around him and pressed his cheek against the golden hair at his crown. Warriors could feel the tension leaving him as he relaxed, and with Legend’s steady heartbeat under his ear, he could finally breathe easy enough to relax too.

"......Goddesses, we're such anxious wrecks," he laughed after a minute. "Fuck me sideways..."

"Mmh. Maybe tomorrow."

Warriors snorted, then kissed his neck before settling again.

"Sleep well for me, love.... My night depends on it."

…..Legend tried his best. He did.

There were flashes of the desert, of a different era’s Hyrule Castle, of the shade of a king and a jaded prince taking the throne from a corrupt queen, a furious Sheikah founding a rogue organization, and an old, bitter sorcerer with a young face making a deal he couldn’t refuse. Then, dark, choking mists of acid, plants and grass melting at their feet as they advanced, searching, hunting--

Legend shot awake, gasping as phantom pain shot through his arms and back along old, white scars that coiled and branched off like vines through his blood vessels in place of the stinging, corroding pain of acid from his dream.

He didn’t even hear Warriors calling his name until the pain receded to a strong, but not overwhelming ache.

It was dark, he could hear rain hitting the shutters of the windows, and he could feel the storm in his hands and knees and hips.

“Link…” he managed, in an effort to let his partner know he was alive.

Warriors loosed a gasp of relief and worry, and then pulled Legend tight to his chest.

"Y-you were wailing," the captain said, tripping over his words, "a-and crying for me-- are you okay?"

“Sorry…” he rasped, trying to get his bearings. Gods, his throat was raw and he could feel sweat rapidly cooling on his skin in the chill the rain brought. It’d be nice if he could flex his hands at all, or move his anything without it hurting. “I-I ruined your sleep, didn’t I?”

"To hell with my sleep, y-you're in pain, aren't you? Is it the storm? ....Fuck, where'd I put my potion bag--"

“‘S okay, don’t rush… Potions don’t help a lot when there’s nothin’ to heal, babe,” Legend muttered, sluggish even as a sense of urgency crept over him. “...Had a dream. Been having similar ones lately… I have a bad feeling about it.”

"....... Can you tell me about it?" Warriors asked. "You sounded like you were in agony, it scared me...."

Legend leaned into him as best he could. “O-old pain trying to come close to dream pain… It had a sorcerer in it, and a rogue Sheikah… Didn’t Wild say the Yiga from his era used to be Sheikah? This might have been the first of them… Something about Hylian royalty… I-I had prophetic dreams before my first quest…. This feels like those.”

".....A prophetic dream you have bad feelings about....?" Warriors grimaced. "....Should we wake up Sky and the sprite? If you're having prophetic visions, they might be too, but if they're not we can maybe rule out that there's an evil sorcerer on our case."

Legend wanted to ball his fists in Warriors’ shirt, but he couldn’t make his fingers do more than curl loosely. “If I could move, yeah, but that’s probably not going to be for a while… You could get them if you wanted.”

".......Later. When the storm passes, because I'm not leaving you."

Legend let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you…. Come here and hold me? I’m cold…”

He didn't have to ask Warriors twice. The captain practically wrapped himself around Legend, and pulled in close and tight.

"I've got you, love. I'll keep you warm."

Legend kissed whatever part of Warriors was closest, which happened to be his jaw. “....You’re wonderful…”

….Something nagged at him, though. Warriors hadn’t been a part of his dream that he could remember, but…

“Hey… You said I called out to you…?”

"Yeah.... I think you were asking for help...."

“That… doesn’t bode well,” Legend grimaced. “Can you promise me something, though? I mean like actually promise, no matter the circumstances.”

"......You're scaring me a little.... What is it...?"

“Don’t throw yourself in front of anything for anyone. Not even me. Don’t do reckless bullshit that would get yourself hurt instead of others. That’s not to say you can’t defend anyone, just… don’t jump in where you know you’re gonna overextend and get hurt as a result. Does that make sense? I know that’s both specific and not at the same time, but I can’t explain it. I just… have a feeling. Promise you’ll be careful about that?”

"Don't do something reckless that'll get me killed out of some white knight complex and lack of self preservation? Is that what you want from me?"

Legend tried to shrink further into Warriors’ chest. “....Yes….”

"......You're asking me for quite the tall order," Warriors hummed, pressing kisses against Legend’s temple. "Aren't I supposed to be your dashing knight in shining armor, astride a white horse, keeping all the scary monsters at bay?"

He was trying for humor, but humor wasn't a given promise.

Legend huffed, but the kisses were sweet and he liked the attention. “Yes, and I know that’s a whole personality archetype for you, but Link… I’m worried. Please. This wasn’t in my dream, but it’s got the same feeling. Can you promise me that you won’t do something stupid like that?”

"I--"

Warriors hesitated.

".....Legend-- if something happened to you--"

“No, no, that’s not relevant. Link. We carry fairies and spells and items as countermeasures so if we do get into a dire situation like that, we’ll survive and not have to endanger anyone else in the process. There would be no need for you to risk yourself like that, which is why I want you to promise me you won’t. Hyrule has the goddamn triforce. I’m sure if something were to happen to one of us, there would be some way to help that wouldn’t involve you needlessly throwing your life away. Especially if it’s me, who has items so overpowered that I don’t use them, but keep them in reach so if I need to, I can…. You’re not making me feel good about this.”

"......You didn't hear what you sounded like tonight.... I'm sorry, I just-- ....There's not a whole lot worse than having someone you love screaming for you to help them and being helpless... I don't want to repeat that when there's someone trying to kill us."

Legend scowled, then gave a long sigh. “...We also have three partners at home. We have to think about them too. Minimum number of people getting hurt…”

He… felt like he wasn’t going to get his answer at this rate. Goddamnit.

"............That could also go for you, you know.... but that isn't what you want me to say."

Warriors sighed.

".......If you promise not to get into a situation I feel like you won't come home okay in, I won't do anything stupid. Deal....?"

….That was also a hard thing to guarantee. But…

“I’ll try my best. Deal,” Legend said with a note of finality. “...Now kiss me to seal it. We’re making a contract.”

Warriors smiled and tilted up Legend's chin with his fingers, and pressed a soft, but long, luxuriant kiss against his mouth.

"I love you, love.... Please, goddesses above, get some rest..."

Legend stole another kiss because he needed it. “And I love you, Sir Knight… I’ll try, if I can. Tired…”

".... Should I sing for you...?"

When Legend looked up, Warriors wasn't looking at him, and instead trained his eyes on a particularly interesting lump on the old earthen wall as his ears burned.

"Y-y'know.... t'help you sleep...."

Goddesses above, Legend was smitten. Every day he fell a little bit harder for this man.

He kissed Warriors’ cheek. If his hands worked, he’d be tempted to stroke those beautiful, flushed ears and run his fingers over the scarred edge of his left one. “...I’d love that, baby.”

"M'kay..... Tell. No one. Okay?"

“Why would I? This is just for me. Wouldn’t wanna share it with anyone else…”

"Three reasons. Guess their names."

Legend grinned. “Why wouldn’t you want them to know? They’re our partners, we love them. Two are very musically gifted and would love it. While cute, you’re also being silly.”

"Mhhhhhhh because!! It makes me self conscious and people used to stare.... A-anyway, are you gonna hush and let me, o-or what??"

Warriors’ face was so, so red, and Legend was having some very dangerous thoughts about proposing marriage. Nonetheless, the younger hero conceded.

“Gods above, I’m so in love with you. Okay, yes, I’ll be quiet,” he said, tucking himself more comfortably into Warriors and the pillows.

Warriors kissed him again, and sighed, letting his thumb rest on Legend's cheek, the circles it ran over his skin serving as his metronome. A gentle lullaby brought Legend back to gentle shorelines, warm sand and easy, soft sunlight. It nestled him against merchants fabric that smelled lightly of spice and fairy dust, to old books with knowledge ancient and timeless. It brought him round to soft white linen and blue silk, and rocked him gently on the heels of someone taller than he was, pulling Legend over to a gentle heartbeat.

It brought him home even though home was a thousand miles and goddess only knew how many years away from now.

There was something to be said for song magic, because Warriors was doing it, whether he intended to or not. Legend could feel the intent of a spell woven into his voice. It made him feel warm and safe, eased the pain and fatigue of his body, and relaxed him enough that he immediately started to drift off, awash in the calm sea of Warriors’ voice.

He was out like a light.

Thanks for reading!!! Reblogging and/or screaming in tags/replies/inbox is SO appreciated!!!

[kyber-queen]

Equilibrium (Kix x Reader)

Summary: This is pure softness. Kix doesn’t take his own medical advice. Kix and Jesse dynamic duo vibes. Jedi!reader is in LOVE. Lotsa cuddles, this is capital f Fluff

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Mentions of injury, mentions of death

Author’s Note: This one’s for the lovely and talented @morganas-pendragons, Kix’s actual wife !! Please enjoy !!

***

“Commander, are you in here?” Jesse called from the hallway outside your quarters.

You looked up from the water you were boiling. Was that a trooper? You had no clue how or why he had swindled his way into the Jedi temple—the only clone that knew where your quarters were was Kix, and he was supposed to be deployed for two more rotations. You shut off the heat on your stove and made your way over to the door, the metal floor cold against your bare feet. Your hand rose to the keypad. A second voice grumbled from the other side of the door, piquing your interest. Was that Kix?

You slammed the button to unlock your door. The durasteel slid open to reveal Jesse, propping Kix up with one of his arms as Kix attempted to squirm away in protest. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sorry, Commander, he—”

“Tell her I headbutted a droid’ika, Jess,” Kix interjected. His speech was slurred slightly, and he wobbled into his brother’s grasp. Was he drunk?

“As I was saying,” Jesse punctuated his words with a harsh glare at his brother, “he fell down the stairs on his way off the ship. He didn’t sleep much this mission—no time. The 212th medic checked him out and said he’s got a concussion. He’s been asking for you—d’you mind if I hand him over to you for tonight?”

“Not at all,” you replied. Maker, that man was going to be the death of you. Kix broke away from Jesse and stumbled into your quarters, making a beeline for your bed.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you added.

Jesse nodded before turning and walking back through the hallway. You made a mental note to ask him how exactly he got into the temple later. For now, you needed to make sure that Kix was resting and comfortable.

You turned back around into your quarters. Kix had collapsed onto your bed, still in his armor. You sighed and shook your head.

You knelt down to his level, and began to strip his armor off, piece by piece. He grumbled in protest.

“Sarad, I’m tired. Come to bed,”.

“I know, Kix. Just let me get your armor off, first,”.

With effort, Kix hauled himself into a seated position to remove his chestplate with fumbling fingers. Next came the pauldrons, and then the vambraces, and finally all of his armor rested in a messy pile on the floor next to your bed.

He curled in on himself, gripping his head in his hands and taking a sharp inhale. His head pounded as his face screwed up in discomfort. Your brow furrowed—you’d ask one of the troopers working in medbay for more bacta in the morning. With a flat palm to his bare chest, you gently pushed him back onto the bed. He needed rest more than anything, now.

You crawled onto the mattress, your weight depressing the foam as you melted into his side. He rolled on top of you, resting his head against your chest and pulling your blanket over your intertwined forms. You pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head as he nestled his body in between your legs, wrapping his arms underneath the small of your back. He was heavy, his warm body molding against yours. He hummed contentedly.

You turned your gaze to his face. He buried his nose into your chest, inhaling deeply. He had missed you. You would talk tomorrow—tonight, all he needed was sleep. Even in the dim light of your quarters, the dark circles under his eyes were difficult to miss.

“You need to take care of yourself, Kix. I worry—”

“I know,”. His voice was soft. He sounded almost apologetic, and your heart broke a little.

It wasn’t his fault that he came home exhausted and falling apart at the seams half the time. He was a clone medic—his life was war and death and pain, and yet somehow, he was still the kindest person you had ever had the privilege of knowing. No matter how many dying brothers he had to comfort, no matter how much violence he had to experience, he always found the space and time to come home to you. He was soft and kind and gentle and so full of love it made your heart burst.

You held him just a bit tighter.

By now, his breathing had slowed and mellowed, his weight pressing comfortingly into your chest. You scratched your nails lightly over the skin of his back, leaving little goosebumps in your wake. You stared at your ceiling, and blinked back a tear. Maker, you loved him.

You worried for him, all the damn time. His life was dangerous, and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it. Here he was, after what was supposed to be a low-risk mission, chronically sleep deprived and concussed.

Your hands smoothed pathways over his skin. You channeled as much serenity as you could into his body. Maker knows he needed it. You breathed deeply—he must have showered in the medbay. He smelled like soap and bacta and something uniquely him that you could never get enough of. You sighed. He was safe in your arms, now, and you didn’t have to worry. Loving him was terrifying—and yet you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the galaxy.

He pressed a sleepy kiss to your chest. Your hand trailed up to cradle the back of his head, and you let your eyes flutter closed.

Your breathing synched with his. He was asleep soon after, his little snores vibrating against your chest. In the morning, you’d find some way to escape the comfort of his grasp to allow him a few more precious moments of rest. For now, you were content to remain in this equilibrium—it seemed as if your bodies expanded out for miles, painting the night sky with the picture of your intertwined forms.

You loved him, and it broke your heart and stitched it back together every day.

[spectrumed]

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

[scripttorture]

Not sure if this would really be relevant, but you're the best resource I can think of for prison systems. In a secluded supermax prison with all male staff & all male prisoners, they suddenly get a single (like 19 or 20 y/o) female prisoner who "can't go anywhere else & needs to be kept heavily restrained." What's the warden's best option for making sure she's safe & treated with respect for the first few days/weeks till they can get female guards? Modern setting, mostly American style prison.

I feel like I know enough about this to be helpful but I’ve never claimed to be an expert on prisons and I think you should try to double check what I say. Partly because I think that the ‘best option’ in a case like this would be heavily biased by opinion and what you consider the best outcome to be. I don’t want you to mistake my opinion for fact or discount the idea that you might think differently presented with the same evidence.

 I also think this is the kind of case where there’s a big difference between what should happen and what would likely happen.

 It’s also worth stating at the outset that, in my opinion, the American prison system is set up in a way which inherently makes abuse more likely. And that makes a difference. When the system itself is already set up in a way which makes torture more likely the efforts of individuals within those systems are… less likely to be effective.

 We’re talking about a system where solitary confinement is the first rather then the last resort. Use of solitary confinement over the safe period (1 week) is routine, with prisoners in maximum security facilities often being kept in isolation for months or years.

 Which causes mental health problems to a disabling degree and drastically increases the chances of suicide or self mutilation.

 Rape is still common and while it’s often discussed in terms of attacks by fellow prisoners, a lot of attacks are by guards. Especially when you’re talking about women prisoners and juvenile prisoners. Incidentally it was only in 2012 that the US started recommending against cross-gender searches of women prisoners.

 And a lot of guards in American women’s prisons are men. I found figures of 40% based on data from 2007 and up to 70% for federal facilities from 2011. Both of these were cited figures from books I don’t have full access to. I can’t confidently say how accurate these figures are or how the authors came by them. I can confidently say that there are male guards in female prisons and that this has been linked to abuse (based on the testimony of rape survivors in American prisons).

 While we’re on the subject the kind of restraint use I think you’re referring to is torture. You can find descriptions of its use in Chinese prisons over here.

 Essentially humans are not designed to withstand long periods with little to no movement, or holding the same position for a long time. It is unhealthy. It causes a significant amount of damage to the body. Sometimes it’s lethal.

 Now if you didn’t know this that is OK.

 I’m here because I know a lot of this kind of information isn’t common knowledge and that it’s hard to find. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing something, we all learn sometime.

 We’ll circle back to restraint tortures and alternatives in a moment. For now let’s focus on prisons

 I think that the most likely thing to happen in an American prison is that this character would be thrown in solitary confinement and kept there.

 You can read about how harmful that would be here.

 I also think that it’s unlikely an American prison, having decided to house a woman in a male prison, would hire female guards specifically to accommodate one prisoner. And I think a woman in this environment would be especially vulnerable to physical and sexual abuse.

 You can read about that here.

 There’s an in-depth Reuters investigation on the deaths of women in American jails that you can find here. It contains a graphic description of a dead baby, born in a jail, as well as descriptions of systemic racism towards black women and abuse of the mentally ill. (Seriously if you’re a black woman and pregnant or a mother of a young child don’t read it.)

 If you want to write a female character being put into an institution designed for men in America… that’s what it looks like. Higher rates of preventable deaths.

 Here’s the thing though: You do not have to make the situations in your story as bad as they are in real life.

 There is nothing wrong with deciding that the characters in your fiction get treated with more care and respect then is the norm in real life. It might not be realistic but we are writing fiction.

 And there is a difference between a story which is unrealistic in favour of the torturer and one which is unrealistic in favour of the victim.

 Having said that: If you want to create a fictional, less abusive prison system for this story it will not look anything like an American prison.

 I have… some rather complicated feelings about the idea of setting the story in America and then presenting the prison system as better then it is. Remember that I am a pacifist and I was raised in Saudi Arabia. I say this because I feel as though the abuses in the American prison system are whitewashed in the media America exports.

 If I was writing a story set in Saudi which involved imagining a better, less abusive prison system I’d feel confident my readers would know this didn’t reflect the reality. I feel like they would understand without being told that I was trying to imagine a better version of my home rather then trying to accurately show the prisons there.

 I do not think that would be the case if you did the same thing in an American setting.

 I’ve talked enough about the negatives. Let’s move on to how we can make this idea work.

 The way I see it the big choice here is whether you want to keep the setting and the abusive use of restraints or whether you want the character to be safe and treated with respect while incarcerated.

 If you’re picturing the character being held in a way that renders her more or less completely immobile (like a restraint chair or a bed) then there’s a pretty decent chance she’d die within the first couple of weeks regardless of any other abuse. There’s a reason restraints aren’t commonly used in hospitals and mental health facilities any more: they increase the chances of sudden death. Even in young healthy people.

 There’s a case you can read about here that’s a decent example. Young, 27 year old man, partially restrained for ten days after a mental health episode. Dead from a heart attack in ten days.

 Obviously not everyone who is completely restrained for weeks dies of a heart attack. But bed sores exist. So do bladder infections caused by catheters and muscle wastage and a host of other ailments that are cured by simply letting someone move around.

 Honestly combined with solitary and the high chance of sexual abuse I think that full body restraint is probably throwing too many tortures into the story. Because all of these individually are complex issues and the harm each of them does is routinely downplayed. Handling all of them in the same narrative would be really tough and the restraints are the easiest one to get rid of.

 If you’re picturing something more like the restraint torture (constantly wearing hand and leg cuffs) described in the Chinese case I linked to above, survival is a lot more likely. That’s to do with the degree of movement victims are capable of.

 A person who is immobile with their muscles under strain is in a stress position. The death rates for those rise sharply after 48 hours. A person who is immobile when their muscles aren’t under strain (eg restrained to a bed with six point restraints) is not in a stress position. But they’re at greater risk of a heart attack or stroke and after weeks they’ll start to develop bed sores (assuming they’re not lying in a pool of their own waste.)

 A person who’s restrained in a way that lets them walk, but slowly, lets them stand, but not straight, is experiencing a restraint torture. They probably won’t get kidney failure (the cause of death in stress positions) and they’re less likely to get a heart attack or a stroke.

 There are still serious health effects. Muscle wastage and weakness afterwards is very common. Survivors of this particular torture tend to report chronic pain and joint problems. I’m not entirely sure what causes this but since it’s very consistent I’d guess it’s a physical effect of long term restraint use.

 Survivors also tend to report some mobility problems afterwards. There’s a loss of fine motor control and often some difficulty performing day to day tasks that require raising and lowering the arms. Like putting on a jacket unaided or hanging washing on a line or taking things down from a cupboard above the head. This could be due to nerve damage, damage to muscles or ligaments at the joints or both.

 These sorts of restraints don’t leave victims in a stress position; which is why they can survive for months or more rarely years while restrained (stress positions are only consistently survivable up to 48 hours.) But nonetheless they do leave victims in a constant state of pain. The restraints dig in. The position and inability to straighten is painful, especially for the joints. A lot of victims report being unable to sleep because of the restraints.

 And sleep deprivation causes it’s own problems which you can read about here.

 I might be on the wrong track here but generally no one has to be restrained. So the inclusion of that in the ask made me think this story might have elements of fantasy, sci fi or super hero genres: a character with a special ability that can only be used under certain circumstances.

 I had a problem with something like that in one of my stories recently. The character in question can manipulate how people think and feel using her voice. And I racked my brains trying to think of a way the police in the story could keep her imprisoned once they caught her. I looked up all sorts of sedatives, thought about solitary and all kinds of over the top abusive stuff that fiction teaches us is a go-to practical solution.

 I didn’t want to use them. I didn’t want her to be tortured.

 And then it hit me: her guards could just wear noise cancelling headphones.

 Sometimes the answer really is that simple.

 Think about this character’s power set, if that’s part of the problem here. Really consider what she can do and how she does it. Have you got an underlying chemical process going on? If it’s magic what’s the cause and effect for it? What are her limits? What is her range?

 Use that to think about when the power breaks down and why. And if you’re writing fanfiction based on a canon with poorly defined magical abilities…. Make something up to define how she does what she does.

 Focus and concentration is a commonly used way of doing this. I saw a brilliant program a while back where the main character actually had no idea how his powers worked and was as surprised and elated as everyone else when they did. I try to come up with strict, simple definitions of a character’s powers/abilities. Then I work to try and find inventive ways of applying that. Find a method that works for you and don’t be afraid to try a few different approaches.

 Unless you’ve written yourself into a corner, chances are this character (like mine) doesn’t need to be restrained or isolated.

 And if you have written yourself into a corner, you can write yourself out of it again. Either with the choices you make now or by going back and editing what you already have.

 On a similar note if you want this character to be in a better, less abusive system does she have to be in a male prison and does she really, absolutely have to be in America?

 Because if you want the lowest possible rates of violence and abuse today that means the Scandinavian prison system. You can find out more about it here and here for Norway.

 You can read more about global prison systems here.

 The gist of it is that there are huge systematic differences. Prison guards in Norway are trained for 2-3 years on specially designed course and the ratio of staff to prisoners is almost 1:1. (For contrast in the UK, which is closer to the US system training takes 12 weeks and the ratio is 1:4.) Prison guards in Norway are well paid, facilities are well staffed and guards are allowed generous breaks and holidays.

 This creates a system where staff are not overly stressed, sleep deprived or pressured to achieve unreasonable ‘results’. Training focuses on conflict resolution, this along with a less pressurised working environment this creates a better overall environment for staff and prisoners. Force is really considered a last resort and staff are provided with the tools, training and support necessary to make that a reality.

 There’s also effort put into the physical construction of these facilities: cells aren’t cramped, overcrowded or unsuitable for human habitation.

 I’m not trying to claim these prisons are perfect. There is still a big trend of prolonged solitary confinement use in Norway and other Scandinavian countries. There is still abuse in prisons.

 But- Well I can’t compare directly with US prisons because I didn’t find statistics using similar measures for violent attacks. However I can compare with the UK. With a prison population of about 3,200 Norway had 181 attacks on staff. The UK, with a prison population of 83,300, had a little over 10,000 attacks.

 I think if you really want to write something with the least potential for abuse then you’re better off imagining an international (or explicitly Scandinavian) institution built more along the lines of the Norwegian system.

 If you’ve got your heart set on an American, male prison being the only place this character can be then I think the ‘best’ thing a well intentioned warden in that position could do is throw her in solitary and have her kept on suicide watch.

 The safe period for solitary confinement is about a week.

 After that she’d start to show signs of mental health problems which would get worse the longer she was held. By about the 1-2 month point these problems are probably going to be permanent. Beyond that the chances of self harm and suicide attempts starts to rise. So does the chance she’ll have a psychotic break and start hallucinating. After a year you’re looking at multiple suicide attempts and chances of self mutilation. By which I mean things like trying to destroy your own hands, legs, face etc.

 The decision about what’s right for your story is always yours. You know these characters, the setting and the kind of narrative you’re telling best.

 Pick the options that best fit with what you want from the story and the characters. Because that’s the best decision for the story.

 But if you’re writing about an abusive system don’t gloss over the abuse. If you’re writing about a torturous practice in prisons (like solitary confinement) don’t ignore the life long damage it causes.

 I hope that helps. :)

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