#but also to understand that other people can have the same symptoms as you but have a completely different disorder

[deantfwinchester]

Care in Cartography

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader, same timeline - established relationship, marriage

*This one is set post-wedding but pre-pregnancies. I’ll place it chronologically in the masterlist, but it truly can be read as a standalone like all the others.*

Summary: As your therapy sessions get more intense, you start to experience physical symptoms of trauma processing - in this case, migraines.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mental illness, trauma processing, vague discussion of past abuse but no specifics. (Reader is still pretty blank-slatey, but has a history of trauma prior to meeting Joel)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Okay divas, two years later the continuation of “A Simple Request” is in the works. This self-indulgent, very self-insert-y nonsense is me taking a break from my much more well-crafted story.

Maybe i’ll post a WIP of the third part of ASR soon if anyone’s interested? As good-faith promise that I’m actually working on it? lol. y’all enjoy my wayyy too personal word vomit here 🫶

_________________________________________________

The migraines are new. You’re not sure when they started, but it certainly took you a long time to figure out what they were. You’d grown accustomed to headaches, but these were different. A pain that started in your brain stem and grew up the side and back until you were wading through the world in a pulsating helmet of pain. Often you’d wake up with them, or they’d settle in just after therapy, later that night.

When they wouldn’t respond to your regular Advil or Tylenol, you tried everything: wearing your blue light glassed all damn day, mindfulness at your desk during the brief silence of your empty classroom, drinking so much water you had to pee damn near once a class period, but no luck. With no discernible cause, at a certain point you just got fucking curious - could it be related to the somatic stuff in therapy? You know the body stuff is fairly new but incredibly integral, and you’ve also done enough research to know symptoms can appear that feel super disjointed. Fuck.

You do some googling and it starts to make sense. That CPTSD subreddit reads your mind like usual, and sure enough, other people have had similar experiences. The real trouble with these is that they’re getting too consistent to hide from Joel. It’s becoming more and more difficult to brush off or distract him when they start to appear. When more weeks pass and the headaches get more intense and consistent, your ability to power through them wanes. Coupled with the exhaustion from the day, your Thursday nights become a wash. You have no choice but to tell your husband what’s going on.

Joel knows about your past, that’s not what worries you. He knows about the difficulties you’ve endured with your mental health, of course the ones you still suffer, and the early experiences that put you in the weekly therapy you’ve been in since before you met. Moreover, he knows why you’ve committed so hard to getting deeper these past few months. You two have talked about having more kids, about wanting a baby. You’ve talked it out with Sarah too, making sure she’s comfortable and securely aware that she means the entire world to the both of you. She’s excited to be a big sister at this point, and y’all can hardly wait. But there’s work you need to do first, and you told Joel as much.

At first he insisted the way you are with Sarah is evidence you’re more than ready to become a mother for the second time, but you know too well what unhealed wounds can do between mother and child. You explained how they can pass from mother to child, these unhealed parts. You tell Joel you won’t get pregnant without doing a good bit of the work first. You know the journey is lifelong, but your body has to be yours and yours alone while you take on the physical toll of this early healing.

Joel understands you, and admires the dedication you have to your little family. He may not have the words for it, but damn if he isn’t impressed and grateful for the mission you’re on to sever the cycle you were born into. If it’s something you need, he wants you to do it. He made it more than clear that he’d be there, supporting you, every step of the way.

While he doesn’t fully understand it, he isn’t surprised when you tell him what’s happening with the migraines. That they’re probably gonna get worse before they get better while you release and re-experience traumas stored in your mind and body over the next few months. He expresses worry over this price you’re paying, but is assuaged when you ensure it’s better for you in the long run. He believes you, and acknowledges you’re doing it for more than just you. And that he appreciates it.

When Joel comes home one Thursday night to find you curled up, room dark and blinds closed, space washed in an uncharacteristic silence, he knows what’s going on. Gently as can be, he just sidles up next to you and brushes your hair back from your face, half-squished into the pillow. When he lays the back of his hand against your forehead, checking your temperature just in case, your eyes slide open and he knows damn well what he’s dealing with. He lets out an almost-silent “Hey darlin’. Let’s get you settled, hm?” before setting about doing what he can to care for you.

Joel gets the ice packs, recently-acquired migraine-specific meds in case you forgot them, refills your Emotional Support Water Bottle with fresh, cold water, some source of caffeine, and anything else he can think of. He’ll handle dinner too, of course — weekly schedule be damned.

Joel’s muttering nonsensical words of comfort while lying next to you when you speak for the first time:

“We really oughta switch thursday nights out at this point.” Though your words are somewhat muffled into the pillow, he can make out enough to know you’re referring to your weekly dinner schedule — you’re Tuesday & Thursdays, Joel’s Monday, Wednesday, and grilling on Sundays. You take most summer nights because it just makes sense, and Fridays and Saturdays are take-out, date nights, or social events, reliably.

“What makes you say that, darlin’?” he asks, and in the deep blue-gray of the room you can just make out his strong brow furrowed in confusion. You lift your head and turn just enough to be sure Joel can hear you clearly, though your voices both remain hushed.

“You’re always so sweet, and you know I appreciate it, but don’t you get tired of this Joel?” you ask, an injured desperation plagued your voice and you look at him — even in the dark he can see how wide your eyes are, glistening with a mixture of guilt and pain. “Week after week, you get home from working all day, and I’m just fucking laying here in the dark? Can’t do shit, I’m terrible fucking company, not even making dinner on my night” your voice is breaking, and his face does the same, crumpling at your distressed tone and undercurrent of fear and helplessness in your troubled words.

“Sweetheart, what the hell gave you that idea? Never in my life have I been tired of taking care of you. And I never will be,” he says in a gentle whisper, stroking your hair lightly, testing the waters for comforting touch at the locus of your pain.

“But being this fucking useless, on the regular?! You can’t tell me it doesn’t get old,” you rebut, and he knows where this is coming from. He’s seen this fear in you before, and he knows it’s a remnant of whatever you talked about in therapy today. The dregs of old moments of abuse, feeling burdensome at the hands of people you trusted, had no choice but to trust. He used to get angry thinking about it, about the people who treated you that way. Now he’s just grateful you’re here, laying in front of him right now, stronger and more resilient than any goddamn soul he’s ever seen.

“Baby, the only thing that bothers me about this newest ritual of ours is seeing you in pain. You know I know it ain’t your fault. You can’t help hurting, honey. And don’t you dare think I don’t know it’s because you’re workin so hard, sweetheart,” Joel pleads, his own voice beginning to crack now, thinking of everything you’re having to do to keep yourself safe. Everything you’re doing to prepare yourself to expand your family, the sacrifices you’re making for the child you’ll have together before they’re even on the way. Your eyes fall, shying away from his own, and he pulls your gaze back up to meet his own.

“I know you need this - all of this work - for you and for us. I hate seeing you hurting so much, sweet girl, but knowing you dealing with this now will keep you safe, keep you here with me? I’ll lay right here in the dark with you, shoveling cheerios in every damn week for the rest of my life, if it’ll help you, baby” he’s smiling at you now, but his eyes are wet with empathy and concern. His voice is rougher now, like he’s talking through tears he won’t let slip - like holding strength for the both of you is paramount in this moment.

Joel rubs your back with a pressure you recognize. He wants you to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’s here, in every possible way. You reach out to touch his cheek, applying a pressure of your own. One that tells him to let the emotion flow if he needs to, and you know he’s recognized it when you feel hot tears slowly slide into the crevice between your palm and his stubbled cheek, before swiping a thumb beneath his eye, collecting the wet traces of love he can’t contain onto the pad of your finger.

You’re crying now too, and he shushes you in his thickened voice, knowing you need to keep the fluid. “C’mon now, baby. I’ll never tell you not to cry when you need it, but tears’ll only make your head feel worse. Gotta keep you hydrated.” He grins and you release a wet chuckle of your own before scooting closer to bury your head in his neck, tucked tight under his chin. His arm tightens around your back like he wants you melted into his chest, like he knows he can keep you safe if he can tuck you right in next to his other beating heart.

He’s rocking you both ever so lightly now. Not enough to aggravate the pain in your head, but enough to will you to sleep through it. When you wake in a few hours he’ll make sure you eat something, and once you sleep again you’ll wake up Friday morning right as rain. This isn't uncharted territory for him, and he’ll play cartographer for as long as you need. Lord knows you’ve mapped miles and miles since joining their little family a few years back. The two of you will scribe new paths in graphite back and forth and together, erasing and replotting whenever needed, for the rest of your days. As long as you’ll let him.

[faggotommyinnit]

I think people need to be more aware that plurality and being a system are the same thing. Btw. Just because people experience being multi faceted differently doesnt mean that they arent plural, doesnt mean they arent a system, doesnt mean they dont have multiple fuckers running around under the hood (their Brain)

People can argue a million times "the information about did is out of date and unclear where the line ends and begins for what you experience" blah blah fucking blah ive heard it all before. Too many dumbasses on syscord. Too many people who give a fuck about the wrong things. But have you ever considered that even if its all plurality, theres different subsections of plurality?

If someone says theyre a system then good for them. They figured that out. I dont need to know more than that. Yk why? Cause theres the point of plurality where it becomes the covert self report disorder we all in the community know as did and osdd, udd, p-did, whatever and whatnot. Some people just experience plurality differently due to their experiences. And thats OKAY.

People need to understand that its like. Unreasonably hard to get diagnosed because it was so easy for people to realize their plurality and like. Yeah. They got fucking scared. Theres people in your head an society doesnt want them in there. They stopped that so people wouldnt be scared. they wouldnt of been scared if the therapist actually knew what they were doing, bur i dont entirely blame them. The people who hurt you, and your system, put them in there. Some people knew about it (tbmc, organized abuse, etc) , some people have no idea. Sometimes that trauma doesnt look like trauma for others and the system themselves may not even recognize it. But thats fucking okay.

You dont need to know everything about your system. Your allowed to drop the stupid fucking genic labels. Theyre just self report labels. Willowgenic? Okay cool. Endogenic? Whatever u want. But dont put it on just for the sake of others. They dont deserve it. Have you seen the amount of damn people in syscords who are so anti-system that it hurts? How much pain will one have to throw to realize the call comes from inside the house. How much fire will one gas till they themselves are ash.

"alter pregnancy isnt real!!!!!" Too bad. Happened to me an i am your outlier. Try again and dont bring it around our sys family.

Did you know that when people say inner voices or different voices theyre not literal? Or at least it depends on the system, but i just recently learned some people experience it as thoughts that are abstract from the usual, and quite consistent in their presence of abstractness from the "normal" self. Not. Literal voices. But that happens too- im not saying it doesnt. But isnt that so interesting? After quite a few years of knowing an growing with our system, we learn new things every day.

"If you dont black out then your faking!!" Get a fucking grip, blackouts are usually* (not always, obviously theres nuance i dont need to spell that out for you.) for extreme moments of fear and arent as cartoonish as theyre often described. Your more likely to have grey out, emotional amnesia, or amnesia with emotional memory. Yea that exist. Yea those are symptoms. No you are not faking just because the shitty communities built do not fucking talk about them enough.

Yes it is important to discuss with both pwdid (people with DID), osdd, AND endogenics. Also transDID, transOSDD. And more. Cause you know what? Humanity is beautiful. And if your mind makes people to help you? Thats fucking beautiful. Your fucking beautiful. No matter how many people are diagnosed or for how long, their opinion should not matter and should not try and change your life. Especially if you dont know them. Like what?

You dont know me typing this. And i dont know you reading this. But please listen to me that the medical industry has lied to so many of us for so many fucking years and is so obvious now in our year of 2025 that they just want us compliant.

I guess my main point is is that. If you think your plural, then you can be. Be safe about yourselves, dont intentionally abuse someone an excuse it for your alters because theyre all functioning in the same body as you. Love one another for your differences. If you argue with me i dont care. I simply do not care and you will not change my mind to express love to all. Talk to the fucking medical industry and tell the people behind the dsm to make the qualifications for ALL systems.

[schizopositivity]

People with autism or ADHD: I have this symptom

Me, a schizophrenic: oh me too!

People with autism or ADHD: I have this symptom

Me, a schizophrenic: haha yeah I got that too

People with autism or ADHD: I have this symptom

Me, a schizophrenic: yeah I deal with that daily

People with autism or ADHD: have you been checked for autism/ADHD? It really seems like you have it

Me, a schizophrenic: you know those are all possible symptoms of schizophrenia too right? You know that we have more than just psychosis right? And we can experience almost every symptom of autism and ADHD combined right? You know that we are more alike than we are different, right? Right?

[ms-demeanor]

I understand that vaccines are proven to work and are a great advancement in our medicine, and also that homeopathic remedies don't work, but don't they work on the same principal? Why does one work and the other doesnt?

They do not work on the same principle.

I can see how vaccines look like a "like treats like" situation, but in homeopathy "like treats like" is a kind of magical thinking.

Let's take an example from Chicken Pox, a virus for which there is an effective vaccine and for which there is a common homeopathic treatment.

Chicken pox infects people once, and it is extremely rare to get a second case because once you have had it, your body forms persistent antibodies against the varicella-zoster virus. When I was a kid, they didn't have a vaccine for this, so kids mostly got chicken pox once and it ran around whole schools and that was it. It's a virus that is fairly minor in children, though it can cause dangerously high fevers. Adults who get chicken pox typically get much sicker than children who get it, and it can lead to permanent harms like infertility in adults who get it. Because it can be so dangerous, we don't want people to risk getting it, so we vaccinate.

The way the vaccine works is that it takes a weakened form of the virus and introduces that into the body of a person with a healthy immune system. The immune system responds and the person who got the vaccine may get some minor symptoms, like a headache or a slight fever, but it will be nowhere near as severe as getting actual chicken pox would be. Because the immune system was exposed to the virus and responded, it now has antibodies against the virus that recognize the virus and respond immediately before it can start replicating in the body. If a person who has either previously had chicken pox or who has been vaccinated against it is exposed to the chicken pox virus, their body uses those antibodies to react to the virus and protect against a systemic infection.

Are you familiar with Star Trek? It's kind of like the Borg. You can't use the same attack pattern against the Borg multiple times because if you do, they'll recognize the pattern and will be able to defend against it. The virus is the attacker, and your immune system is the Borg. It knows what it's looking for and won't let anything get through its defenses.

Homeopathic remedies don't seek to prevent illness or provoke an immune response, they seek to cancel out something that is happening in the body.

For chicken pox, which produces itchy red bumps, homeopaths use Rhus Tox - a dilution of poison ivy, a plant that causes itchy red bumps if you encounter it in nature. The Rhus Tox didn't cause the chicken pox, it's not given to prevent the virus, it's from a plant that is completely unrelated to the virus that happens to produce some of the same symptoms as the virus when you touch it.

They don't even think that the Rhus Tox will provoke an immune response from your body like actually touching poison ivy would, they're attempting to use an unrelated compound (that is so diluted that it isn't even present in the preparation) in place of your immune system to attack the itchy red bumps.

So I'm going to go over this in a few brief points:

Vaccines are preventative ONLY, they are not a treatment for illness or symptoms of an illness

Vaccines work by introducing your immune system to a partial, weakened, or dead virus so that your immune system can form antibodies against that virus and prevent that virus from replicating in your body when it is later exposed to a whole/strong/live virus.

Different vaccines have different levels of effectiveness and produce different lengths of immunity; this is for a number of reasons, but if you get a measles shot as a kid you may only ever need one booster, while you need a flu shot every year and a tetanus shot every decade. All of them work the same way, though: they show your immune system what a virus looks like so that your immune system can kill the virus.

That is why immune compromised people sometimes can't be vaccinated, or why vaccines don't work as well for them or may need higher doses or more boosters. Because they don't have a healthy immune system, weakened viruses like the ones in the chickenpox virus might be too strong for their immune system to fight, and even if it doesn't get them sick, their bodies may not be able to produce enough effective antibodies to protect them from the virus in the future. That's part of why it's important for as many people to be vaccinated as possible; the more people who are vaccinated, the harder it is for viruses to spread, and vulnerable people like immune compromised people or babies too young for vaccination won't be exposed to deadly viruses.

Homeopathy, on the other hand, aims to treat symptoms of an illness that a person is already experiencing.

Homeopathic treatments do not aim to provoke an immune response, they aim to cancel out a symptom with a cure.

Dilution is a very important part of homeopathy, with homeopaths claiming that the more diluted a preparation is the stronger it is. This is simply incorrect; I don't know how to make a more logical explanation of that, it is just wrong that less of a substance causes more of a response.

Homeopathy says "like treats like" and that may seem like using a vaccine with a weak virus to prevent infection from a strong virus, but their version of "like" is different - Rhus Tox (poison ivy) is supposed to be "like" chicken pox because both cause itching. Rhus tox is also supposed to treat PCOS, erectile dysfunction, uterine prolapse, sunken eyes, nausea, and backache. "Like" can have an extremely broad meaning in homeopathy, which should be cause for suspicion.

Here's a paper that compared the immune response of college students given homeopathic "vaccines" against a control group and against a group of students who were given standard medical vaccines. The control group and the homeopathic group both did not have an immune response in titer tests, while the vaccination group did have an immune response, demonstrating that they had protection from the vaccinated viruses. It's a pretty good demonstration both of how effective homeopathy is (not at all) as well as how to set up a fair and ethical study to look at the effectiveness of different kinds of treatments.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

little comforts with the lads li’s

(a self-indulgent imagining of them with a neurodivergent MC)

✨ xavier & overstimulation

(not the sex kind, sorry. but probably that too) Xavier completely understands when you get overwhelmed by existing. he gets the same feeling sometimes. you develop a code for it eventually, a combination of eye contact and eyebrow-raising that signals to the other person that you need out, whether from a Hunter’s Association party or a grocery store with way too many people. back at home, you’ve created a haven together- eye masks and soft blankets for him, headphones and fidgets for you, whatever makes you feel peaceful and calmed. the ceiling lamp is absolutely not allowed- Xavier drapes the walls with soft spheres of light or swirls a firefly-glow of sparks along the bed in a warm canopy.

🎨 rafayel & hyperfixations/jumping hobbies

you might as well consider collecting hobbies a hobby in itself. crochet needles and yarn, jigsaw puzzles, a wood burning setup, a console and video games- whatever brings you joy, Rafayel is enthusiastically behind it. he doesn’t judge you for wanting to learn a new art style out of the blue- he’ll sign up for a pottery class with you and buy you pounds of clay. he loves your passion and enthusiasm and matches it with his own. he loves being creative with you, in whatever form it happens to take that day. plus, with the amount he spends on paint and canvas, he’s not about to judge you for getting boxes of new supplies for something. he’s hyping you up every time! even if it isn’t an interest he shares, he’s happy you’re happy.

🩺 zayne & health anxiety/ocd

no matter how many times you ask for it, Zayne is happy to give you reassurance. yes, that chicken was cooked all the way. you have a weird flutter in your chest? of course he'll listen to your heart. he listens to every symptom, every worry with unfailing patience. after all, he wants to be your protector, your safest place- this is just one way to be that for you. he never makes you feel irrational for your fears, just steadily helps you face them each and every time. he doesn't judge your compulsions, but he offers his expertise whenever you ask- he lets you take your temperature ten times a day but also explains the normal range and when to actually worry.

💭 sylus & overthinking

okay hear me out, this goes both ways: he helps ground you when you’re overthinking negatively but also supports you when you’re being enthusiastic about literally anything. he’s all in- if you have a favorite tv show he’s watching every episode and reading every analysis of it so you can discuss. he’s fully invested in your office drama, your gossip, your made-up stories about the bird family that lives outside your apartment window. but he also soothes you when you spiral into worry or fear. he happily goes through what-if scenarios with you, most of them ending in him spectacularly defeating anything that could ever threaten you. he makes it clear over and over again that you’re completely safe with him, physically and emotionally.

❤️‍🩹 caleb & insecurity

his life mission to make you feel adored. he makes a point of worshipping every part of you, especially anything you consider a "flaw". nothing is too much or too little- you're perfect exactly as you are. if he overhears you complaining about your thick thighs on a call with Tara, he's going to be buried in them later that night, pressing kisses to every inch. he loves working out and training with you. if you want to get healthier he's gladly cooking fresh ingredients into nutritious meals and helping you build up a fun fitness routine- but if there's even a hint of it being because you don't like the way you look in the mirror? he's going to benchpress twice your body weight in front of you just to prove he can. or better yet, he flings you over his shoulder easily and brings you to the bedroom to "work on your confidence".

[busket]

you can and you should be aware that "male/female socialization" is terf propaganda while also being aware of how your childhood gender affects you today, not for an activism reason but just for a better clarity and understanding of yourself, and no one else.

like I can recognize that a lot of the way that i am is because I grew up as a weird fat girl. I was bullied in ways that still affect my psyche and my view of myself. I was treated in ways that may not have happened if I were a boy, maybe my family and peers would have been more accepting due to their misogyny, maybe symptoms of my ADHD would have been more obvious if I were male and I could have gotten the help i needed. maybe I would have been celebrated and supported in ways that I was not because of the misogyny of the people around me.

HOWEVER!!!! I must also recognize that this is my individual experience and it doesn't reflect all trans men or all afab people! and I must not, under any circumstances, imagine the reverse of my situation and project it on to all amab people!! this is how the terf propaganda seeps in. I can be upset about my own childhood trauma when I was a cis girl, but I must never let that cause me to resent other people and assume their experiences. being raised as a girl does not make you an inherent victim. being raised as a boy that does not make you an inherent object of affection, or an inherent oppressor. this is gender essentialism which assumes everyone of the same biological sex has the same experiences and it's never been true.

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

[giritina]

I think sometimes about how so many people discourage labels and specificity and pathologizing anything about yourself and frame it as countercultural. Meanwhile, people in the mainstream will tell you the same. I think about this because I have talked with a lot of people about the schizophrenia spectrum who absorbed the idea that diagnosis doesn't matter, labels don't matter, just get help for who you are... and they felt empty and hopeless. The therapy wasn't working, the medicine wasn't working. Their symptoms didn't make them look different than other people on the outside, but on the inside, their experience was specific. The specificity is the only thing that gave them the chance to find any solace at all.

The DSM is flawed, but I question those that seem to want to abolish psychiatry and specificity and claim we're all experiencing one thing. We're all experiencing the trauma of the outside world. There's no reason for these words. Etc etc. There's clearly some scientific flaw in categorization when most people will walk out of a psych eval with a long list of disorders, but I resent those who say that the simple discomfort of seeing a long list is what's wrong there; that specificity, "pathology", is the enemy. When you have a word for a specific experience, you can research it, you can help it. If we name every bacteria, we can understand each one, but naming mental illnesses seems to make even mental health professionals uncomfortable. So many people deny us specificity. They hate it when we come and ask to be treated for X thing we suspect we have. They hate when we form an identity around our mental condition. They fold everything into one big name. Anxiety. Depression. CPTSD. Then we accept that and try to get help, and we feel nothing. We try to form an identity, and we're told that forming an identity around a diagnosis is pathologizing and wrong. Even some leftists want to tell you it's wrong. It's unnatural. There's no point to it.

Meanwhile, I always remember reading how people with schizophrenia spectrum illnesses seemed to benefit greatly from narrative therapy where they related and made community over their collective oppression. They used schizophrenia and ableism to unite and be more than an individual, but also to be something that really tangibly in the world at all. Disability theory brings us together, a refusal to view the self as any different from abled people often only isolates us.

(From Recovery of the Self in Psychosis)

[covid-safer-hotties]

also preserved on our archive

By Erica Sloan

These days, it’s tempting to compare COVID-19 with the common cold or flu. It can similarly leave you with a nasty cough, fever, sore throat—the full works of respiratory symptoms. And it’s also become a part of the societal fabric, perhaps something you’ve resigned yourself to catching at least a few times in your life (even if you haven’t already). But let’s not forget: SARS-CoV-2 (the virus responsible for COVID) is still relatively new, and researchers are actively investigating the toll of reinfection on the body. While there are still a lot of unknowns, one thing seems to be increasingly true: Getting COVID again and again is a good deal riskier than repeat hits of its seasonal counterparts.

It turns out, SARS-CoV-2 is more nefarious than these other contagious bugs, and our immune response to it, often larger and longer-lasting. COVID has a better ability to camouflage itself in the body, “and it has the keys to the kingdom in the sense that it can unlock any cell and get in,” says Esther Melamed, PhD, an assistant professor in the department of neurology at Dell Medical School, University of Texas Austin, and the research director of the Post-COVID-19 program at UT Health Austin. That’s because SARS-CoV-2 binds to ACE2 receptors, which exist in cells all over your body, from your heart to your gut to your brain. (By contrast, cold and flu viruses replicate mostly in your respiratory tract.)

It only follows that a bigger threat can trigger an outsize immune response. In some people, the body’s reaction to COVID can turn into a “cytokine storm,” Dr. Melamed tells SELF, which is characterized by an excessive release of inflammatory proteins that can wreak havoc on multiple organ systems—not a common scenario for your garden-variety cold or flu. But even a “mild” case of COVID can throw your immune system into a tizzy as it works to quickly shore up your defenses. And each reinfection is a fresh opportunity for the virus to win the battle.

While you develop some immunity after a COVID infection, it doesn’t just grow with each additional hit. You might be thinking, “Aren’t I more protected against COVID and less likely to have a serious case after having been infected?” Part of that is true, to an extent. In the first couple years after COVID burst onto the scene, reinfections were generally (though not always) milder than a person’s initial bout of the virus. “The way we understand classic immunology is that your body will say to a virus [it’s seen before], ‘Oh, I know how to deal with you, and I’m now going to deal with you in a better way the second time around,’” says Ziyad Al-Aly, PhD, a clinical epidemiologist at Washington University in St. Louis School of Medicine and the chief of research and development at the Veterans Affairs St. Louis Health Care System.

But any encounter with COVID can also cause your immune system to “go awry or develop some form of dysfunction,” Dr. Al-Aly tells SELF. Specifically, “immune imprinting” can happen, where, upon a second (or third or fourth) exposure to the virus, your immune cells launch the same response as they did for the initial infection, in turn blocking or limiting the development of new antibodies necessary to fight off the current variant that’s stirring up trouble. So, “when you get hit an [additional] time, your immune system may not behave classically,” Dr. Al-Aly says, and could struggle with mounting a good defense.

Pair that dip in immune efficiency with the fact that your antibody levels also wane with time post-infection, and it’s easy to see how another hit can rock your body in a new way. Indeed, the more time that passes after any given COVID infection, the less of a “competitive advantage” you’ll have against any future one, Richard Moffitt, PhD, an associate professor at Emory University, in Atlanta, tells SELF. His research found that, while people who got sick initially during the delta phase were less likely to get reinfected during the first omicron wave (as compared to folks who were infected in a prior period), that benefit leveled off with following omicron variants.

There’s also the fact that no matter how your immune system has responded to a prior strain (or strains!) of the virus, it could react differently to a new mutation. “We tend to think of COVID as one homogeneous thing, but it’s really not,” Dr. Al-Aly says. So even if your body successfully thwarted one of these intruders in the past, there’s no guarantee it’ll do the same for another, now or in the future, he says.

Getting COVID again and again is especially risky if it previously made you very ill. Dr. Moffitt’s study above also found that the “severity of your first infection is very predictive of the severity of a reinfection,” he says. Meaning, you’re more likely to have a severe case of COVID—for instance, requiring hospitalization or intensive care, such as ventilation—when reinfected if you had a rough go of it the first time around.

It’s possible that some folks are more prone to an off-kilter immune response to the virus, which could then happen consistently with reinfections. The antibodies created in people who’ve had severe cases “may not function as well as those in folks who’ve had mild infections or were able to fight the virus off,” Dr. Melamed says. Though researchers don’t fully understand why, some people’s immune systems are also more likely to overreact to COVID (remember the cytokine storm?), which can cause serious symptoms—like fluid in the lungs and shortness of breath—whenever they’re infected.

Being over the age of 65, having a chronic illness or other medical condition, and lacking access to health care have all been shown to spike your risk of serious outcomes with a COVID infection, whether it’s your first or fifth fight with the virus.

But you’re not home free if you’ve only had, say, a brief fever or cough with COVID in the past; Dr. Moffitt points out that a small subset of people in his research who had minor reactions with their initial infection went on to be hospitalized with a repeat hit. The probability of that might be lower, but it’s still a possibility, he says.

Even if you’ve only had “mild” cases, each reinfection strains your body, upping your chances of developing long COVID. A 2022 study led by Dr. Al-Aly found that COVID reinfections also increase your risk of complications across the board, regardless of whether you recovered just fine in the past or got vaccinated. In particular, it showed that reinfection raises the likelihood that you’ll need hospitalization; have heart or lung problems; or experience, among other possible issues, GI, neurological, mental health, or musculoskeletal symptoms. “We use the term ‘cumulative effects,’” Dr. Al-Aly says, “so, multiple hits accrue and then leave the body more vulnerable to all the potential long-term health effects of COVID.”

That doesn’t mean your experience of a second (or third or fourth) infection will necessarily be worse, in and of itself, than what you felt during a prior case. But with each new hit, a fresh batch of the virus seeps into your system, where, even if you have a mild case, it has another chance to trigger any of the longer-term complications above. While the likelihood of getting long COVID (a constellation of symptoms lingering for three months or longer post-infection) is likely greatest after initial infection, “The bottom line is, people are still getting diagnosed with long COVID after reinfection,” Dr. Moffitt says.

Researchers don’t totally know why one person might deal with lasting health effects over another, but it seems that, in some folks, the immune system misfires, generating not only antibodies to attack the virus but also autoantibodies that go after the body’s own healthy cells, Dr. Al-Aly says. This may be one reason why COVID has been linked to the onset of autoimmune conditions like psoriasis and rheumatoid arthritis.

A different hypothesis suggests that pieces of the virus could linger in the body, even after a person has seemingly “recovered” (reminder that SARS-CoV-2 is scarily good at weaseling its way into all sorts of cells). “Maybe the first time, your immune system was able to fully clear it, but the second time, it found a way to hang around,” Dr. Al-Aly posits. And a third theory involves your gut microbiome, the community of microbes in your GI tract, including beneficial bacteria. It’s conceivable that “when we get sick with COVID, these bacteria do, too, and perhaps they recover [on initial infection], but not on the second or third hit,” he says, throwing off your balance of good-to-bad gut bugs (which can impact your health in all sorts of ways).

Another unnerving possibility: The shock to your system triggered by COVID may “wake up” a latent (a.k.a. dormant) virus or two lurking in your body, Dr. Melamed says. We all carry anywhere from eight to 12 of these undetected bugs at a time—things like Epstein-Barr, varicella-zoster (which causes chickenpox and shingles), and herpes simplex. And research suggests their reactivation could be a contributing factor in long COVID. Separately, the systemic inflammation often created by COVID may spark the onset of high blood pressure and increased clotting (which can up your risk of stroke and pulmonary embolism), as well as type 2 diabetes, Dr. Melamed says.

There’s no guarantee that any given COVID infection snowballs into something debilitating, but each hit is like another round of Russian roulette, Dr. Al-Aly says. From a sheer numbers standpoint, the more times you play a game with the possibility of a negative outcome, the greater your chances are of that bad result occurring. And because every COVID case has at least some potential to leave you very ill or dealing with a host of persistent symptoms, why take the risk any more times than you need to?

Bottom line: You should do your best to avoid COVID reinfection and bolster your defenses against the virus. At this stage of the pandemic’s progression, it’s not realistic to suggest you can avoid any exposure to the virus, given that societal protections against its spread have been rolled back. But what you should do is take some common-sense precautions, which can help you avoid any contagious respiratory virus. (A cold or the flu may not pose as many potential health risks as COVID, but being sick is still not fun!)

It’s a good idea to wear a mask when you’re in a crowded environment (especially indoors), choose well-ventilated or outdoor spaces for group hangouts, and test for COVID if you have cold or flu-like symptoms, Dr. Al-Aly says. If you do get infected, talk to your doctor about whether your personal risk of a severe case is enough to qualify for a Paxlovid prescription (which you need to take within the first five days of symptoms for it to be effective).

The other important thing you should do is get the updated COVID vaccine (the 2024-2025 formula was recently approved and released). Unlike getting reinfected, the vaccine triggers “a very targeted immune response…because it’s [made with] a specific tiny part of the virus,” Dr. Melamed says. Meaning, you get the immune benefit of a little exposure without the potential of your whole system going haywire. Getting the current shot also ensures you restore any protection that has waned since you received a prior jab and that you have an effective shield against the dominant circulating strains. Plus, research shows that being vaccinated doesn’t just lower your chances of catching the virus; it also reduces your risk of having a severe case or winding up with long COVID if you do get it.

So, too, can the deceivingly simple act of keeping up with healthy habits—like exercising regularly, eating nutritious foods, and clocking quality sleep. Maintaining this kind of lifestyle can help you stave off other health issues that could increase your risk of harm from COVID, Harlan Krumholz, PhD, a cardiologist at Yale University and founder of the Yale Center for Outcomes Research and Evaluation (CORE), tells SELF. “Given that we will be repetitively exposed to the virus, the best investments we can make are in our baseline health,” he says.

Doing any (or all!) of the above is a big act of compassion for yourself, the people you love, and your greater community. “For the average person, it’s like, ‘Oh, COVID is gone,’ but they’re just not seeing the impact,” Dr. Al-Aly says, noting the invisibility of long COVID symptoms like disorienting brain fog and crushing fatigue. The truth is, in plenty of people, just one more infection could be the difference between living their best life and facing a devastating chronic condition.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 17 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: Buck’s hands trail down to your hands. He takes his in yours. “Do you love him?” “Buck.” “I know you love me,” Buck continues, playing with your fingers. “You know I love you. But I’m asking if you love him.” The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16

Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: mentions of bleeding/blood

Being pregnant is great, but it also sucks.

Overall, you really shouldn’t complain — you’ve had it a lot easier than others. Your morning sickness went away after the first trimester, and the only real symptoms you’ve experienced in your second trimester are fatigue and swollen feet.

You only recently started showing, which means you have to start telling people… including Chris.

The three of you came to an agreement: to Christopher, just you and Eddie are dating each other, and Buck just happens to live with you. He’ll figure out the truth when he's older, but for now, he’s just too young. It’s too much, too confusing, especially bringing a younger sibling into it.

You’re sitting next to Eddie on the couch. He’s rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. On an upstroke, you set one of your hands over his. Eddie meets your eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” you say quietly, lacing your fingers together.

He smiles softly and squeezes your hand.

The front door opens. Christopher steps in first, followed quickly by Buck, who picked him up.

“Hey. buddy,” Eddie greets lightly. “Can we talk to about something?”

“Am I in trouble?” he asks as he enters the living room.

You chuckle. “Nothing like that.”

Buck smiles and waves a little before dismissing himself into the kitchen.

“We have some news for you, that’s all,” Eddie explains.

You scoot over so Christopher can sit between the two of you.

“If the news is that you’re dating, I already know,” Chris says factually as he sits.

You laugh a little, mostly in surprise. “Yeah, we aren’t that subtle, are we?”

Chris shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Well, that was some of the news,” Eddie admits, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders.

Chris looks over at you. “Is the other news that you’re pregnant?”

You look at Eddie, whose eyes are probably wider than yours.

“Wow, we really aren’t subtle,” you laugh out.

“How did you figure that out, bud?” Eddie asks, rubbing up and down Christopher’s arm.

“I heard you throwing up in the bathroom a lot,” Chris explains. “And sometimes, I see Dad set his hand on your stomach.”

“Definitely not subtle,” Eddie mumbles in agreement.

You smile, leaning forward to look at Chris. “How do you feel about all of this?”

Christopher shrugs. “Fine. It’s nice having you around. And I think I can be a good big brother.”

Your smile widens, and your eyes water a little. You wave your hands in an attempt to dry them. “Damn hormones.”

The farther along you become, the less you work. When you first told Bobby, he said you could take off completely. You were grateful for his support, but that’s something you weren’t willing to do. Even now, at 6 months pregnant, you work at least a shift a week, much to your boyfriends’ dismay.

“You could get hurt,” Buck argues as you move around the kitchen, packing your lunch bag.

“So can you!” You argue. “You don’t see me trying to talk you out of your job.”

“Well, it’s not just you I’m worried about,” Buck continues. “I’m worried about our daughter, too.”

Your heart swells a little. You hate that you keep having the same argument with him, but you understand that he’s coming from a place of genuine concern.

“We still don’t know that it’s a girl, Buck,” you remind.

“It’s definitely a girl, and don’t try to change the subject.”

Eddie enters the kitchen, catching the last part of what Buck said. “Are we arguing about work again?”

You sigh. “What else?”

Eddie momentarily cradles Buck’s face to kiss his cheek. “It’s never gonna work.”

“At least I try ,” Buck argues. Still, he turns his head to give Eddie a proper kiss on the lips.

“Hey, don’t bring him into your crusade,” you argue, zipping up your lunch bag. “Like he said: it’s never gonna work.”

Eddie approaches you and kisses you. “Good morning.”

You smile. “Good morning.”

He crouches, setting a hand on your belly. “Good morning.”

After hitting 22 weeks, you really popped. Practically none of your old pants fit, and even some of your shirts are having a tough time fully covering your belly. You hate the attention it’s gotten you from the general public, but love how affectionate the boys have been.

You get why Buck is so worried. And frankly, you’re a little tired. Being a student full-time while pregnant is hard enough, and adding work to it only makes things more exhausting. You’ve never taken the easy way out of anything, though, so maybe it’s finally your turn.

“I’ll talk to Bobby today about taking off early,” you say quietly. You point a finger at Buck. “Before you get any ideas, it has nothing to do with your bitching. It’s because I have a clinical course coming up and honestly, I could do with a little off my plate.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Buck says. “What do you think, Eddie?”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie agrees, kissing your forehead.

Now that you aren’t working, you have a lot of spare time. After sleeping in longer than you’d care to admit, you decide to catch up on some random chores around the house. By 7 PM, you managed to sweep and mop all the floors and do three separate loads of laundry.

You’re folding some of the boys’ work clothes when you feel a sharp pain in your stomach. It catches you so off guard that you gasp, leaning over and clutching your side. You manage to take a few deep breaths, and the pain eventually turns to a dull ache.

Weird. You’ve had intermittent abdominal pain throughout your entire pregnancy, which your OB assured you was normal. This, though… this is new. And you don’t like it.

You make a beeline for the bathroom. When you pull down your pants, you see a bright red splotch in your panties. Blood.

Eddie is only halfway through a 24-hour shift, but Buck should be home any minute. You dial the latter’s number.

“Hey, perfect timing,” Buck answers. You can tell from the background noise that he’s driving. “I was thinking Chinese for dinner.”

At the sound of his voice, you let out a sob.

The tone in his voice changes. “What’s wrong?”

You keep crying. You have trouble trying to catch your breath. You feel a little silly, but you can���t help it — you’re terrified.

“Baby, you have to to talk to me,” Buck says calmly. “What’s going on?”

“I… uh, I think something’s wrong,” you manage to choke out. “With the baby.”

You can hear the engine accelerate. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“I don’t think so. I… I was doing laundry, and I had some pain, and I’m… I’m bleeding,” you explain. “Not a lot, but… not a little, I guess.”

“Are there clots?”

“No, it’s just bright red,” you say, fresh tears staining your cheeks. “It looks like spotting, but it hasn’t hurt like this before.”

“Are you still in pain?”

Funny, you hadn’t thought about that. Between your pounding heart and uneven breaths, you’re pretty sure the adrenaline coursing through your veins is masking any pain.

“No, not really. But I’m kind of freaking the fuck out, so…”

“I’m three minutes out. Just hang on, okay?”

A whooshing sound greets your ears.

“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Chantell, an ER physician, says. “Your baby looks great.”

You let out a sob of relief, squeezing Buck’s hand. He kisses your forehead and brushes back some of your hair.

The curtain pulls back, and you see Eddie. His eyes frantically scan the room, landing on you. “What the hell happened?”

“Excuse me, sir, this is —”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt Dr. Chantell.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Eddie explains for you as he rushes to your side. “What happened?”

Dr. Chantell looks at Eddie, then Buck, then you. You can already tell you’ll be the talk of the ER for the night.

“I had some pain and spotting,” you explain as Eddie kisses your forehead. “She’s okay, though.”

“‘She’, huh?” Eddie chuckles a little. “Did he finally convince you?”

“It’s a girl,” Buck repeats for probably the hundredth time. “I just know.”

Eddie sets a hand on his shoulder, which Buck leans into.

Dr. Chantell presses the ultrasound probe down, and when she pulls it back up, it makes you hiss in pain.

“Found the culprit,” she says, pointing to a random black blob on the screen. “Appendicitis.”

Most of the pain was on the right side, but it wasn’t limited to the upper quadrant, so appendicitis didn’t even cross your mind. You probably should have guessed that, though.

“I need surgery,” you say.

“Is that safe for the baby?” Buck asks.

“It’s low risk,” Dr. Chantell answers. “Appendectomies are actually the most common non-obstetric surgical procedure performed during pregnancy. And it isn’t ruptured, so the surgeon will likely take a laparoscopic approach.”

You nod, slowly taking everything in. Okay. you need surgery. But it will be minor. You’ll be in the hospital for three days tops, and recovery should only be a few weeks. You’re okay. The baby’s okay.

Everything is okay.

You slowly blink awake. You look around, taking in your surroundings.

Instead of the ER, you’re in a regular hospital room. You vaguely remember recovering in the PACU, but the excitement of the evening turned into exhaustion and sleep greeted you easily once you brought upstairs.

The clock on the wall says it’s five in the morning. You can only barely make it out in the dim lighting of a lamp in the corner.

You feel something shift on your stomach. You look down to see Buck’s hand sprawled over your bump. His head is resting on the edge of the bed as he snores softly. Eddie, who’s asleep in a recliner, has one arm resting on the bed next to your leg while the other sits on Buck’s back.

You clear your throat, and it’s enough to stir Eddie. His head turns and he frowns a little before opening his eyes. When his eyes meet yours, his expression softens.

“Hey,” you croak out, your voice still hoarse from surgery.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers as he sits up. “How you feeling?”

You shrug. “I’m okay, I think.”

Eddie stands to get you a glass of water. The motion is enough to wake up Buck.

“Hey,” you say, setting your hand over his.

“Hey back,” Buck greets as he sits up. He turns his hand so your fingers can lace together.

To your right, Eddie offers you a small glass of water. “Take it slow, okay?”

You nod a little as you accept it and take a small, slow sip out of the straw.

“Are you in any pain?” Buck asks.

You shake your head, setting the cup down on the bedside table. “Not really, just a little sore. Nothing like what I felt earlier.”

“The surgeon said you and the baby both did great,” Eddie says.

You smile softly, running a hand up and down your bump. “We need to think of some names for this kid. They’ll be out before we know it.”

“Well, we don’t need to worry about boy names,” Buck says confidently.

You and Eddie share a look, then laugh a little.

“I always liked Carter as a boy name,” Eddie says. “Plus, it goes well with Christopher.”

“Christopher and Carter,” you say, nodding. “Yeah, I like it. What about a middle name? Buck?”

“I’m not contributing to this,” Buck replies, laying his head back down. “The only names I know are girl names.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I like Eli. Carter Eli.”

Eddie smiles. “I like it too.”

You return the smile, then sigh dramatically. “Okay, Buck: what do you have for girl names?”

“I have a middle name,” Buck says, perking up. “Rae.”

You look at Eddie, eyebrows raised. “Got a first name?”

“Katie?”

You hum. “Not bad. It’s more of a nickname, though.”

Buck rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Kathleen?”

“That sounds like someone’s grandma,” you chastise.

“What about Katherine?” Eddie suggests.

“Not bad,” you comment. You pause. “Kadence.”

“Kadence Rae,” Buck says, then smiles. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

It’s been a month since your surgery, and for the most part, life is back to normal. You’re now 34 weeks pregnant, and because the appendectomy required at least 4 weeks of recovery, you actually feel pretty okay. You’ve been off of work for almost two full months, which feels weird, but it’s a nice break. Besides, you’re officially entering your preceptorship, which means you’re close to the end of nursing school.

You were lucky enough to land your preceptorship in the Emergency Department. You still aren’t entirely sure what you want to do when you graduate, so you’re hoping the first-hand experience helps you decide. Even if you choose not to pursue inpatient care in favor of pre-hospital, you know you’ll learn a lot. Sure, it’s 80 hours of free labor, but… you gotta do what you gotta do.

The boys are excited for your next educational endeavor, but they’re far more excited by how quickly your due date is approaching. Over your weeks of bedrest, they finished building the crib and painting the nursery. Really, they’re nesting more than you are. It’s cute.

“You know, we have to figure out this last name thing,” you say over breakfast.

Eddie and Buck look at you, then each other.

It’s early enough in the morning that the three of you are up, but Christopher is still asleep. As much as you love spending time with Chris, you definitely savor the moments the three of you get to be a couple — triad? — in the house.

The last name debate started when you got home from the hospital, and it has yet to conclude. The boys keep brushing each other off, saying that it doesn’t matter and that it’ll figure itself out. It won’t, though. And sooner rather than later, you’ll be filling out a birth certificate, and you can’t leave the ‘last name’ line blank.

“Why can’t it just be yours?” Eddie asks. “I mean, you’re growing her.”

Buck finally wore Eddie down and convinced him that it’s a girl.

“That’s why it shouldn’t be mine,” you argue. “I’m already connected to the baby — you two dummies need to be connected, too.”

“I feel the love,” Buck remarks before taking a bite of cereal.

At this point, the three of you have gone over every possible option. Your last name. Buckley. Diaz. Buckley-Diaz. Diaz-Buckley. Some weird, hyphenated monstrosity that combines all three of your names. Then that gets into the marriage discussion, which also never ends.

“There’s already a Diaz kid running around,” Eddie remarks. “If you don’t want it to be your last name, then it should be Buckley.”

“There’s a Buckley kid: Jee,” Buck points out. “I mean, she’s technically a Buckley Han, but it counts. Besides, I’m pretty sure the Buckley name is cursed. It should end with me.”

“I’m sure Christopher would love having a sibling with the same last name,” you point out.

“See! It should be Diaz,” Buck agrees.

Eddie sighs. “Okay, we’ll go with Diaz. But your name is going on the paternity paperwork.”

Buck frowns. “Paternity paperwork?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of this,” you say. “When the baby is born… out of wedlock, or whatever, the father signs a paper.”

“It’s called a Voluntary Acknowledgment of Paternity,” Eddie confirms. “It’s a legal document declaring you the baby’s father.”

You and Buck start to protest, but Eddie raises a hand to quiet you both.

“It’s irresponsible for Katie to only have one legal parent. I can be her alternate guardian, like you guys are to Christopher. If she’s taking my name, that’s proof enough that she’s mine.” Eddie looks at you. “You said you want all three of us to be connected to her, right? I think this is the best way to do that.”

You bite your lip, taking it all in. “Buck? What do you think?”

Buck frowns a little, clearing his throat. He turns to Eddie. “You’d do that for me?”

Eddie sets a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Of course I would, Buck. We’ll both be her dads, but… you deserve to be a father.”

Buck practically lunges at Eddie in a kiss, cradling the other man’s neck. Eddie makes a little sound of surprise before kissing him back.

You smile. That settles it, then.

You’re two weeks into your preceptorship, and it’s crazy how much you’ve already learned. The textbooks and lectures taught you some, sure, but nothing can replace the real thing, and this is as close to the real thing as you’re going to get without having a license.

It’s so interesting, being on the other side of emergency medicine. When EMS comes in with a PNB patient, you’re no longer the one dropping them off and leaving — you’re the one picking up where they leave off. You’ve seen resuscitations last over an hour, the ER doctor not calling it until everyone agrees that there’s nothing more to be done.

And that’s just the life and death stuff. You’ve seen countless traumas, several intubations, and two live births, all within your six 12-hour shifts.

“God, honey, I just look at you and feel tired,” Janice, your preceptor, says.

You smile a little.

Janice is a very seasoned ER nurse with almost two decades of experience. Normally, she doesn’t take student nurses, but when she heard you had a background in EMS, she made an exception. You’re glad she did — she’s a good teacher. She can be intense, but for good reason.

“Yeah, I’ve looked heavily pregnant for awhile, but I’m finally starting to feel it,” you agree.

All things considered, you’ve had a good pregnancy: you’re just ready for it to be over. You’re tired of never getting a good night’s sleep, your feet always hurting, and none of your clothes fitting. You want your body back. You also want to meet your daughter.

Okay, Buck may have finally worn you down, too. You still have some reservations, but you’re starting to think he might be right about the baby being a girl.

Your stomach tightens, and you wince a little. You rub small circles over your bump, taking in a few deep breaths. The Braxton Hicks contractions have been kicking your ass, especially today.

“You’ve only got four weeks left, right?” Janice asks.

You nod. “Yeah, and I’m counting the days.”

“Honey, it’ll be here before you know it.”

You’re working from 1100 to 2300, and by 2030, things have started to slow down. You and Janice are catching up on some charting while you wait for orders on your patients.

“ Highland General, do you copy?” A voice over the dispatch radio asks.

Janice picks up the radio. “This is Highland General, over.”

“Highland, we’ve got a 30-year-old PNB heading your way, ETA 2 minutes.”

“That’s a great copy, dispatch, Highland clear,” Janice says before turning to you. “Ready?”

You and Janice are waiting in the ambulance bay for less than a minute when the rig pulls up. It’s the 118 RA, and Eddie hops out of the driver’s seat. He walks up to you.

“Hey you,” you say with a smile, tilting your head. “Where’s Buck? Another call?”

“30-year-old male struck by lightning, full cardiac arrest. He was down three minutes before we started compressions,” Bobby explains as they roll the gurney out.

Your gaze falls onto the gurney, or more accurately, the person lying on the gurney. You think you can feel your heart stop.

“...Buck?!”

[mostlymihawk]

Getting Sick!

Straw Hat Crew (+ Shanks + Mihawk) x GN reader

Prompt: How they react to you getting sick.

CW: Emetophobia (throwing up)

Luffy:

Completely useless.

The man's made of rubber, he doesn't have a clue what to do.

"Um...it's gonna be okay? It's gonna be okay, right?"

You have to ask him for everything.

Does carry you to bed when asked, and will happily snuggle you.

Then asks if you want something to eat.

Food is the solution, and refuses to understand that food can also be the problem.

Nami:

Holds your hair and runs her fingers through it at the same time.

Also dabbing your face and neck with a cold cloth.

Certified professional make-it-better-er.

She did a lot of throwing up when she was younger.

Childhood trauma combined with lying to your sister and working for your mother's murderer will do that.

Knows exactly what she would have wanted, and gives it all to you.

"It's gonna be okay. I've got you, sweetheart."

Keeps tabs on your temperature to make sure this isn't a symptom of something bigger.

Refuses to let you out of bed until you're 100% better.

Zoro:

Keeps his face carefully blank and gently rubs your back.

Looking away the whole time.

You know him well enough to know he does not want to be doing this.

Handles blood just fine but this is a whole other ballgame and he wants no part of it.

Happily helps you to bed after, because it means the gross part is over.

"Better out than in...I guess."

Then he remembers someone has to take care of the cleanup.

Tries to frame it as discipline training to make it better.

Usopp:

Useless, but tries his best.

"Do you need a cloth? Some water? I can get, uh...fresh pair of clothes?"

Standing outside the door, so you croak out what you need and he runs to get it for you.

Needs to be filling the silence.

If he's not asking you something and you're not answering he's talking about how this reminds him of that one time in the Forest of Doom...

Spends the whole night telling stories to help you get to sleep.

Gets a lot better when he realizes this isn't all that much different than barnacles and bird poop.

Unfortunately, the worst of it has already passed by then.

Confidently assures you he'll be ready for next time, though.

Sanji:

As a gentleman, it's his duty to take care of his significant other when they're sick.

He's damn good at it too.

That doesn't mean he has to like it.

His face is pinched as his thumb gently rubs your back, he dabs your face and neck, and offers you sips of water when you can manage it.

"You're alright, sweetheart. A little bit of my tender love and care and you'll be on your feet in no time."

And then he notices the colour, not unlike the blueberry reduction from the dessert you'd asked for after lunch.

Gently helps you to your room, and it's not until the next day that you notice anything is amiss.

In. con. solable.

No one has ever gotten sick from his food before. Ever.

Refuses to serve food.

The Straw Hats have to turn back to Baratie so Zeff can literally beat some sense into him.

Shanks:

Bonus!

This crew loves its alcohol way too much for Shanks to be even the slightest bit bothered by a little vomit.

Sits by your side, dabbing your face, rubbing your back, completely unfazed, cracking jokes the entire time.

"Snuck into the hold and had yourself a little party without me, did you?"

Knows exactly what to do to help you feel better.

Again, the crew loves alcohol too much for anything else to be true.

Cuddles. So many cuddles.

This crew is too experienced to let a sick crew member come back to work early, so despite the unserious approach you're on strict bedrest.

The whole crew makes fun of you...but only once you've recovered.

Mihawk:

This is not a man who routinely deals with people being sick.

Confused.

Why are you sick.

Who caused this.

Who does he need to kill.

(It's whoever cooked your dinner at that restaurant you went to last night, but you don't tell him that.)

Completely repulsed, does not let it show on his face while he tends to you.

Rubs your back very gently, and uses a cool cloth to wipe the sweat off your face.

Helps you to bed, sits up and lets you lean against his chest so you're upright, and encourages a few sips of water.

"Get some rest, my jewel."

The next day there's a doctor at your bedside.

You don't need a doctor, but the look on Mihawk's face says this is non-negotiable.

[malleusmalifecarum]

Silver is such an awesome character

I always see people mention idia for disability representation -specifically autism- which is great, he’s canonically using an ipad for speech support and its very clear about his strong interests , etc. like as an autistic person in the same age group as him its.. so obvious. However ive always resonated with silver more, i feel like idia gives off more willing antisocial lifestyle, hes pretty sarcastic and comes off as rude (within reason lmao being a nrc student must suck), he doesnt enjoy or actively seek out social experiences unless its related to an interest, e.g harveston event. But with silver i feel like he’s not as willing to be like he is. (Not saying idia is happy with his lifestyle - tbh i dont really know enough about the guy to say)

For example, in his dorm uniform vignette he seeks out help from kalim who is naturally extroverted and friendly to help him communicate his emotions in a way that isnt strange to his classmates. Which is so!!ugh!, like that vignette literally made me tear up.. all my frustrations come from not being able to connect with my classmates or have people know me, how i feel, i know that i cant express my emotions in a way thats normal, or i cant express them at all. Like people portray silver as this cool, pretty, princely guy who everyone happens to have a slight crush on but hes not!! To his classmates hes just the quiet kid whos awkward to talk to and doesnt talk much himself.. as a high masking autistic girl its so real :’) fyi i wouldnt say silver is autistic, he portrays symptoms of narcolepsy- i dont have narcolepsy so i cant say if thats the reason for his social struggles and if its connected but either way the experience is very similar. Silver expresses grief and feels guilty over his condition, it gets in the way of his relationship when all he wants is to be of service to his family, but he just? Can’t! Like the feeling of knowing you CANT do something, not that you dont WANT to you just physically cannot fucking sucks!! And its guilt. Its not your fault, really isnt, but damn it feels like it. Especially when no one understands your condition, so they assume its something you can control, they dont get its a disability for a reason!! My diagnosis was 4 months ago, ive gone through the vast majority of my life being undiagnosed so aswell as general disability rep i also think silver’s really good for the undiagnosed/medical mystery folks; silver himself says many times he doesnt understand his own condition or why he works like that, which makes it soo much harder to explain it to other people because you cant just drop a doctor’s note. Its difficult to get support and have people’s sympathy so they dont become annoyed ( also: if you yourself arent aware the guilt aspect skyrockets. Undiagnosed neurodivergence/disability lifestyle is pretty much screaming why whyw whyw why!!! Am i like this! At god) . Example: his labwear vignette shows professer crewel beating silvers ass with a detention for something he cant control- he fell asleep during class . Silver apologises, gen means it, but crewel doubts the sincerity of his apology because it ‘didnt look like he meant it’ :’) this vignette gen makes me so mad out of empathy?? Tbh crewel didnt pass the vibe check.. like youre teaching teenagers- arguably the worst time for mental health of your life- someone at some point is gonna have a rough night.. even if he doesnt know its a disability (silver’s sleeping spells arent confirmed as such but through the way it affects him id argue that it should be treated as one) you can atleast assume the kids not doing it willingly 😭😭 professor crewel is a perfect example of the type of people that will be a pain in the ass if youre undiagnosed.. like honestly i resonate with silver so much i get second hand frustration.

Like all silver wants is to spend as much time as he wants with lilia, to repay him in the short time silver has (lilia is fae so will live much longer than he) but half that time is taken up by something beyond his comprehension and control!! When lilia has done all in his power to try and help silver but still nothing has worked.. silver doesnt want lilia to spent his life worrying about him 💔💔 hits even harder after lilia revealed hes dying and may in fact die before silver. It makes so much sense that silver would be shattered to the point of crying infront of malleus when everything hes ever wanted to give lilia (love,support, to stop lilia from worrying) is deemed almost impossible by factors he cannot control.

Therefore i dont really want book 7 to end with silver’s sleeping spells being cured- if the root of it is (BOOK 7 SPOILERS!!) from the spell that was put on him as a baby that would send him into a deep sleep until someone who could truly love him awakes him, i assume that after he gets over his complex of judging love by how much you can do for someone (this gets in the way of his relationship with lilia. He thinks that he isnt truly deserving of lilia’s love because he hasnt yet ‘repayed’ him for all lilia’s done for silver.. boy doesnt get the trope of unconditional love 😔), he will finally be content with his relationship with lilia: which concludes with ‘true love’ (familial), his curse will be fully broken. He wont get sleeping spells anymore. Which i suppose is good for silver and the message of love is most powerful which diasomnia has. But i also think it would be most affective if silver just learned to accept his condition and know that it cant get in the way of his family because their love is so strong.( it shouldn’t get in the way anyway,under any circumstance, but silver himself needs to know this 😭😭) Rather than solving the problem straight at the cause, its so much better for silver to heal and accept himself. May be slightly self indulgent aswell lmao because as much as id love to defeat a dragon and have my reward be the cure for neurodivergency id much rather love and accept instead. Like i dont want twst to erase his representation for the plot :’)

Anyway um. Yeah, silver you will always be a diva🫶🫶 -

[hairscare]

as someone who has used a cane for over 2 years now ive noticed a really interesting bias against canes by able bodied people in comparison to other mobility aids. when we were at the same college my roommate used forearm crutches and i had my cane, and it became a joke to us how much more helpful and accommodating people were towards him (of course still overall bad- but better). the main example we always talk about is that people would fall over themselves to help him with doors, even to the point that it would get inconvenient (like trying to open the door to the accessible bathroom for him but in the process standing in the bathroom), meanwhile people would let doors shut on me without batting an eye. he started using a cane recently so i asked him about if there was a difference in how people treated him and he said there was a noticable difference and that people were less eager to help him when he was using it in comparison to the crutches. i have a few theories as to why:

1. most canes you see in media being used by someone who isnt elderly are aesthetic canes, and so people dont take it as seriously if a younger person is using one

2. unlike a lot of mobility aids, canes are one handed, which gives the illusion of an extra hand free. what people dont understand is that yes, while i do have an extra hand free, i am using that hand double time since the other one is occupied. also a lot of things require two hands (especially for someone with a disability) so doing everything one handed can be tough. i use my dominant hand to hold my cane since my pain is worse on my left side, which means that the hand i do have free isnt one i can use to type things in or write, so if i need to do that i have to put my cane under my arm and use my right hand

3. canes are taken less seriously as mobility aids since to an able bodied person they dont look as severe, which gives the impression that cane users are more capable than other mobility aid users. while yes, it is true that canes can be a starter mobility aid that will eventually be traded for another type as symptoms progress, that doesnt mean that canes are for Disability Lite. me and my roommate used our mobility aids for similar reasons and have had very similar pain experiences, we just used different aids. canes are also a significantly cheaper option compared to other aids and are easier to find in stores, and so are much more accessible. besides all that though, there shouldnt even be a bar for how disabled a person needs to be to recieve help, which id argue is a very controversial opinion to have anymore

4. canes are still a joke. they are still widely used as a funny prop to indicate that someone is old, incapable and feeble. even on tumblr i still see people utilizing canes in this way in artwork and memes, and thats obviously very alienating. mobility canes arent props, and you probably should not draw someone with one unless you actually intend to have that character need it

in my short 2 years of using a cane i have already faced so much ableism, most of which has come from young left leaning people. of course theres a wider issue of disabled people being the odd group out in the effort to stop bigotry since literally everyone will punch down on us. there are also certainly privileges to using a cane compared to other mobility aids. but its also incredibly strange how invisible they are, like people forget that i have one for a reason

[mvltisstuff]

go home - e.b

summary: why does she feel so lonely but constantly surrounded by people?

angst, fluff, tw for suicidal thoughts, depression, not having any idea why you feel such a way

a/n: hi all <3 i wanted to write this as a way to express my feelings recently, and also as a way to let people know they aren’t alone. please, please stay. text 988, please. someone out there loves you. the river may twist and turn, but it will always meet the sea. i’m sorry if this is a bit messy, but it’s something i wanted to express as i can recognize y/n.

——————————————————————————

the second the alarm went off on her phone, y/n felt the equivalent to a million bees stinging her head. every single day was the exact same thing.

hit snooze.

sleep five more minutes.

wait until work ends.

the bed was freezing cold despite the man beside her. obviously, she felt a love for him that goes for light years, but why did it feel like a chore to show it?

buck and y/n had been together for years. they’ve taken their time with one another, slowly and precariously loving on the other. buck needed y/n like he needed oxygen. he knew her. he knew her like the clouds know the blue sky. he knew her like a flame knows gasoline. he knew her like his heart knows to beat.

he rolled over, hearing her alarm and feeling her body adjust to turn it off. he flung his arm around her upper body, pulling her tightly into him.

“i’m so tired.” she whispers, her morning voice peering through.

“i know,” he takes it as a joke, a temporary feeling of wanting to doze off again. “day off tomorrow, though.”

she didn’t think buck knew what she meant by tired.

she meant exhausted. she meant feeling like a car low on gas, but there’s no station around. she meant feeling like a ghoul had grabbed onto her head, squeezing tightly at all moments. she meant the sinking feeling in her chest that wouldn’t vanish.

finally, buck dragged his girl out of the bed and took her to work. he loved working with her, getting to keep an eye on her at all times. he knows that she’s safe when she’s with him.

y/n loved working with buck. she worked with all of her friends, and had the most rewarding career out there, as well as the hardest.

the losses on the job feel like a string being cut off the guitar. the losses feel like someone came in and plucked away more of the good in the world. there’s no avoiding the losses as a firefighter, but y/n doesn’t understand why she feels absolutely nothing.

she feels like a villain, just wanting to go home and forget about the entire day and the people she saved. she feels selfish and entitled, but she doesn’t have the energy to care, nor to fix the way she’s feeling.

therapy never worked for her, and she doesn’t have the schedule right now, anyway. she didn’t need therapy, at least she doesn’t think so?

not until the morning after her thoughts eat away at her about vanishing. y/n doesn’t want to die, she just wants everything to stop.

she feels like love is never coming for her, even though it’s right in front of her face, screaming at her to pay attention to it. she feels a lack of success and uselessness. there’s always someone better.

buck, as well as the rest of the 118 family, started noticing the symptoms. the classic ones, but also the more hidden ones. buck knew her, how could he not notice?

•

y/n came home from work, finally ready for her day off. she was looking forward to it all week, just thinking about the warm clothes she could slap on and the sleep she could fall into.

she was asleep when buck got home. he nudged it off as being tired, seeing how hard she works first hand. the next day, on her day off, she woke up past noon, took a nap, and was back asleep by 10. buck felt like she moved across the country by the time the next weeks followed.

he felt like he was in a war with himself and y/n’s sleep. he was pushing it away but it was still consistent. she didn’t want to go out for date night, or babysit jee. if he stayed at work longer, he’d come home to her asleep in their bed.

even when she was awake, buck had to ask himself,

did he know her?

•

when bobby cooks, you may as well clear your diet for the rest of the day. one plate was not an option, you’d be crawling back to the pot like it contained gold.

however, just one bite of food recently can make y/n feel like she’s gonna throw up. bobby makes her favorite dishes, but y/n had a distance from it.

they sat at the table, a calm break from the storms outside that were just a call away. y/n sat down first. she’d usually wait for buck to get his plate, but he didn’t mind.

“only one plate, y/n? never seen that before,” chim chimed in.

deep down, somewhere in her, y/n wanted to laugh. she had a voice clawing up in her to just crack a smile. alas, her brain suppressed it again.

“what, im not allowed to not stuff myself ‘til i faint?”

silence. forks stopped scratching against the plate. chewing stopped, even the slightest breath noises slowed. they’d never seen her eyes roll so far to the back of her head without a grin creeping after it.

“uh oh,” eddie adds. “someone’s not happy.”

god, she wanted to scream.

•

the profoundness of the loneliness in her body just dragged her down. it felt like a different foot every day that was going to lead to six. she yearned for people, but it was all she has.

she’s felt this way for far too long, and it’s getting old. she hates it. y/n wants the monster inside of her to be murdered. she can’t fill the deep void inside of her, but she wants it so bad. the depression, meanwhile also trying to diminish her, sapped her whole body and mind. it was a poison that y/n doubted would ever escape. the monster in her was here to stay. it grew stronger the more isolated she got, gaining control that would scare her to death. it was impossible to escape his suffocating grip around her and she didn’t have the courage to fight back on it.

y/n didn’t want to die, but she would let the monster take her away.

weeks passed, and nothing had changed. y/n and buck were two souls combined. he could feel everything happening to her like it was happening to him.

it was two a.m and y/n drove through a whole tank of gas. she went over city lines after telling buck she was going to run errands. errands gone a little long lost in thought. she sped down highways, thinking of swerving off. in certain moments, she would let her hands drift off the wheel and let it guide her.

a mix of fear and disbelief rushed through her veins as the black car sped up to her. y/n going fast wasn’t an invite for him to join. it pissed her off, bad. some random asshole just ruining her peace, which seemed like it always happened to her.

it wasn’t until her front bumper came in contact with the dodge’s rear that her mind had to snap back into itself.

buck waited up for her, regardless. he knew she would come home. y/n would never drop a love as special as that, no matter the fog in her head.

he heard the front door twist and unlock, the door creaking open. he stayed on the couch, waiting to see what she would do. he almost just ignored it, knowing she would just go to bed. but, maybe he didn’t know her.

y/n stood in her sweatpants and her 118 zip up, staring at buck with her hair thrown into a ponytail. “hi.”

“hey, beautiful,” buck replies, gently and his words graze her like a feather. but, the look on her face is nearly unfamiliar. it’s a whole new look of awakening. she looks more alive than he’s seen her in weeks. in contrast, the look on buck’s face contains pure alarm.

her chest rises and falls rapidly, like she’s trying to take in every breath she can. shes never felt this close to the end of her life before. a new fear was unlocked, a phobia of herself.

“i think, um,” she stares at the hardwood floor. buck walks up closer to her, his hands connecting with her forearms to steady her. “i think i need some help.”

“i know, baby,” he starts, rubbing her soft sweatshirt with his hands to warm her skin. “and im gonna help you. we’re gonna help you.”

“i don’t want to die anymore.” buck’s heart sinks into his toes hearing her say that. the woman in front of him, the one who his world revolves around, the one who may as well have her name carved into his back, was telling him she almost gave up.

he couldn’t help but well tears in his eyes, but he fought them back. he allowed her body to slump against his, as they stood in the dim walkway of their apartment.

to love someone is to fight their monsters.

[starmuselove]

How to not miss your "IT GIRL" moment?

This PAC is to help you become the best version of yourself. An 'IT GIRL' in your own right. What's stopping your star quality from being expressed? The version that makes people "oh she's got that quality about her that just makes me wanna be spectacular too". Imo everyone gets a chance to shine atleast once in their life. Grandly and unapologetically, if you have enough strength to overcome your fears.

And some people just stay being the fabulous star they are just like the millions of stars in the sky. But many are here on Earth, so, do you wanna glow from the inside too, here and now?

So I will today be showing you the things that you are doing that's creating a barrier between you and the star YOU. I will also give you few pointers on what you should embody more.

This pick a pile was created in collaboration with @leafsvflowers. First 3 piles are in my Blog(in this post) and the latter 3 are in her Blog. You can scroll down to click on the link to her post.

Disclaimer: Tarot only shows possibilities based on current energies. They change all the time as no person stays the same way forever, the mind changes back and forth and it creates new possibilities. Take the reading as a guidance and not as law. And finally, only take what resonates.

⚠️ Warning: Some piles have senstive content because this is about confronting what's wrong. So proceed with caution.

PILE 1

I clearly see that you are not nurturing yourself, your feminine side especially. You do not let things flow to yourself and out, you could somehow be disrespecting your own emotional and nurturing side because of it. You refuse to see things as they are and could possibly delude yourself that you are doing a good job of handling your emotions well, when in fact you are operating from a place of unevolved masculine values(all people have both energies). Intuition blocked and so is the creativity, the divine energy that moves within all those who create. You might possibly even withdraw without proper confrontation of situations, stuffing it all back down. Withdrawal symptoms. It could come out as being emotionally manipulative. You have become a shell of superficiality and inside-there's nothing for your soul to sustain. You are holding on, making it seem it's all good outside but inside.... Your soul is screaming for freedom, to be wild and free.

Embody- THE PHEONIX, THE WOLF.

These cards call you out to embrace the changing and unstable times. But not turn into something you are not, Overcome them to create your own unique identity, the one that will make you the fantastic YOU, the you that just pulses with feminine nurturing energy. Focus of being you, not fitting in the aesthetics of this fake world of social media. If you are someone who focuses on being socially accepted and in keeping up appearances, don't.

The real you shines so much better and they are a force to be reckoned with, they cannot ever be ignored. They respect the differences they bring to the world and flaunt it with power and beauty. Don't try to fit in, instead go where you are drawn to naturally. Let your feminine side breath!!!! You should try self-pampering body massages, some sun maybe that vitamin D(*wink wink*) and saunas.

PILE 2

(Warning- Sensitive topics below)

I see you have this tunnel vision when it comes to your emotions and love, that you are not seeing the other important details. You could have been abused at some point because of you being this understanding, emotionally nurturing, always showing up for other people energy.

You could love to love. Love to fall in love. You could be having this tendency to get obsessed about love, getting swept up in the feeling of love or having this false definition of it too.

I see you are failing to see the dark side of the Human Psyche. And you are rejecting it from yourself too, accept your shadow and let it serve you, not the other way around. Your shadow part always shows where you have been disrespected.

Darling, it's time you stop this and start investing in yourself. No love comes before self-love and it will never ever be as satisfying as self-love, I promise. Give the love to yourself, it's gonna be so worth it. Hold yourself like you'd hold an abandoned puppy or kitten- with love and care. That’s what I'm seeing now. Nurture yourself. Hold your emotions as the precious thing they are, don't drown in them. Don't let it prevent you from seeing the bigger perspective, the analytical side of it. And I say this with love, for God's sake don't give out your love to everyone or anyone. Stop giving too much out to people before yourself. At the same time, don't let the shadows engulf you.

You could also indulge in your emotions more than necessary when it's not the right time to indulge in it, you could think that pain is all you are made for- kind of like a spiralling down. It could make you wallow in them over and over. Instead of letting your pain swallow you, use it to see what exactly is needing attention. We don't give enough attention on the problem to prevent it from happening again sometimes. So no, don't get all closed up because of pain now.

I understand that we all crave love and acceptance but you are not loving yourself, you are disrespecting yourself by giving away yourself to people who don't see your value, who don't see what you offer.

You could also abandon love completely and hyperfixate on your freedom at times- hyper independence. You could focus too much into your work in attempts to abandon your emotions, to not see the shadow aspects of a situation and to even protect yourself against these harsh truth of reality too. Choose connections that are nurturing vice-versa and not only by one side. Choose yourself first. And always. Be kind to people just not overly giving than necessary.

Most importantly don't give up on love and don't give up on your own softness, your ability to enjoy life. Make sure you are not drowning in emotions cause of your romanticization of things. Don't turn your back to love, don't turn your back from facing the shadow.

Embody- THE PEACOCK.

You are beautiful, elegant and royal. Assert yourself, no matter what others say even if it seems too much for them to handle you. Like the peacock, show up in your celestial glory. Show up with your colourful feathers. If they get intimated it's not your problem. The peacock dances right before it rains, similarly let the nature guide you and let yourself be attuned to the nature. People could try to belittle you by pointing out your shortcomings but you are much more than the things that happened before. And even the shortcomings they notice in you is actually there to protect you from people like them. They are not your people.

I actually read something after I fully finished interpreting the readings but i had to add this in, "Even though the peacock feathers look beautiful to the perceivers, for the peacock it's just hair". You could very well be not noticing your own magic.

Enjoy and rejoice the encounters the universe is bringing you now, no matter brief or prolonged. You could also move around, dance and do rain gazing to channel this IT GIRL moment/energy more. Water is very healing for you.

PILE 3

(Warning- Sensitive topics below)

You could be someone who gives out responsibilities to others and in worst cases, you assign your own responsibilities to other people. Some people here could also abandon their responsibilities and focus only on things that give you happiness. While it is a good habit, you could do that at expense of others. Or you simply could be avoiding your responsibilities and putting in work.

You wish to indulge in things that bring you happiness and comfort only. You want to be this all knowing, knowledged authority figure. On the outside it seems like you are doing this for the best, but it's your ego wanting attention and praise. You might also have a habit of making yourself seem 'wishing the best to all' to justify things you have done for your own benefit. You could use your resources to fulfill your wishes and addictions. Honestly, you seem to be addicted to things that are not serving for your highest in long run.

You could also have this false belief that everything will turn out to your favour even if situations seems to demand your attention to change for the better. Yeah you seem to take advantage of people's compassion and empathy to take advantage of them to get what you want. Simple as that. Tone down your ego and hold yourself responsible.

Anyhow you are letting superficial pleasures have a vice over you. You are falling back into toxic patterns. Excess indulgence in guilty pleasures that is turning you into getting addicted to them. You could be again thinking everything's gonna be fine and you are better than other people but, it seems they are empty assurances that are simply not true.

Embody- TARANTULA.

You are called to give more attention to what you consume, what you think and make conscious decisions on everything in your life. And don't try to play with people's feelings. So you really think the things you did were for the best? Or were those a result of your own needs. See if you can get your needs though alternate methods that don't involve the shady business. Don't try to make things seem more dramatic than they are too. Re-think your purpose and aim in life. Your toxic coping mechanisms and habits will come to bite you back soon if you don't start taking steps to change them.

PILE 4, PILE 5, PILE 6

Read Pile 4, 5 & 6 in @leafsvflowers's account ⇒ Here.

As always, feel free to give feedback and let me know what you thought. If you need someone to talk to for support my DM's and ask box is open esp. for this post readers.