#eat-lancet

[probablyasocialecologist]

In January 2019, world-renowned food and nutrition experts published a groundbreaking study. The culmination of two years’ work by 37 authors, the EAT-Lancet report set out to answer the question: how can we feed the world’s growing population without causing catastrophic climate breakdown? The publication was high profile. Launched in the prestigious peer-reviewed Lancet medical journal, the report came out in 12 languages, and a flagship event at the World Health Organisation (WHO) in Geneva, Switzerland was planned for March. But in the days leading up to the launch, the WHO pulled out. The health agency’s withdrawal followed a massive online backlash, which had concentrated on one of the report’s recommendations: to cut global red meat consumption by 50 percent.  New evidence seen by DeSmog suggests this surge of outrage against the report was stoked by a PR firm that represents the meat and dairy sector.  A document seen by DeSmog appears to show the results of a campaign by the consultancy Red Flag, which catalogues the scale of the backlash to the report.  The document indicates that Red Flag briefed journalists, think tanks, and social media influencers to frame the peer-reviewed research as “radical”, “out of touch” and “hypocritical”. It highlights that negative coverage outnumbered neutral or positive stories, with thousands of critical posts shared on X about the research, alongside more than 500 negative articles. “Red Flag turned EAT-Lancet into a culture war issue,” Jennifer Jacquet, professor of environmental science and policy at the University of Miami, and expert in lobbying, told DeSmog. “Instead of having nuanced conversations about the data, Red Flag takes us back to mud slinging.” “This document is a portrait of what we’re up against – as people who care about the truth, about climate change, and about the future,” she said.

10 April 2025

[witcheshollow]

If you feel the need to gift your chronically ill friends things for whatever reason, here is my "starter pack/gift guide"

A pack of their favorite gateorade flavor, great for hydration, tastes good, easy and quick. Body armor, prime, etc are also good options if they dont like gateorade

Some of their favorite powder electrolytes. Liquid IV and drip drop are some good options. There are also the generic brand electrolyte packets at Walmart, I think they taste good. There is also bouy if they like the squeezy ones, i dont but if they do bouy has an unflavored one as well as like 30 different options

Kt tape. Regular, extreme strength, cooling, heating, literally any type of kt tape. They can probably find a use for it. Most ((not all but most)) chronically ill people, at least the ones I know, suffer from some type of joint issues and kt tape is a life saver. On this vein, I would stray away from braces unless you know what joints/muscles specifically give them the most trouble, kt tape is a bit more versatile

Compression socks, there are cute ones on Amazon, Walmart, many small business sell some nice ones. I would go for a higher compression, or at least upwards of 15 mmhg, for the best chance of them being worth it

Temperature devices, im putting these in the same bullet point bc it felt unnecessary to put ice packs and heating pads in different points. Ice packs are really nice for swelling and heating pads are really good for pain. Both are a good option ALWAYS. I will say, the reusable ice packs give you a better bang for your buck than the single use crack and use ones.

Their comfort foods. A bit of an ed tw for this bullet point, but i have noticed quite a few of my fellow chronic illness sufferers deal with an ed, and while it isnt all of us, those who do probably find it a bit extra hard to eat on rough days. So comfort foods/snacks

If they have to take their blood sugar for things, lancets. They usually come in like 100 packs for really cheap, like under 5 bucks cheap. Just check to see the brand of their lancing pen before you buy them tho

Batteries, it sounds weird but stay with me. Do you know how many medical devices I have that require batteries?? MANY. My hr monitor, my glucose monitor, my blood pressure monitor- like bro, a pack of triple a batteries will mean more than you think trust

A weighted blanket/stuffie. Stuffies are cute and easy to carry around, blankets are nice when you need some extra weight

If they have a service animal, an accessory for their vest/leash/collar could be nice

One of those reacher things that grab things for you. I want one of those. When your stuck in bed, cant move, ill, in pain and suddenly drop your mother fucking phone cord off the side of your bed and now you have to MOVE and grab it- 10/10 worst experience. One of those grabby things would be amazing

A migraine cap. I got mine from target but I have seen them at Walmart, on Amazon, weirdly one on depop, some on shein, some at places like tj maxx, etc. Migraine caps are especially wonderful for those days where your shut in your room, blinds drawn, fans off, three ice packs on you in constant rotation, barely mobile and for some gods forsaken reason your blinds wont close all the way so the light keeps catching your eyes and making you want to lose your ever loving shit bc you cant move to fuck with them. And more normal experiences Im sure lmao

If your short on funds, just being there with them, listening to them, watching a movie, body doubling so they can get some help with chores, running errands with them, literally anything so they remember their a human person with human feelings that you love and care abt. Who knows, it might help you feel better too

More than anything, listening to what they want and need is a bigger gift than most think

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 4

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: strong angst, losing a relationship, minor swearing (?)

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt.5

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you like <3.

________________________________________

Remus’ POV:

Remus wakes up slowly and unwillingly, squinting slightly in the sunlight that’s draped over the bed and carpet by now. Rubbing his eyes, he gropes for his phone and checks the time: 6:37 a.m.

He rubs his temples. The migraine bothering him yesterday has somehow vanished into thin air, probably courtesy of the freshly replenished ibuprofen that Amberly always leaves on his nightstand. For once he can stand and move around without needles and lancets of pain poking and prodding at his brain. 

Amberly…

Remus bites his lip as he makes his way to the kitchen. The uneasy nightmares that plague his sleep had momentarily displaced the memory of her tears the previous day, but now they were returning in full force and bringing heavy guilt with them.

I shouldn’t have snapped at her.

He expects to find his girlfriend curled up in the little window alcove just like always, pale hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea and brown eyes narrowed as she flips through the pages of some thick and dusty book. Expects to see her smile that always, always appears when he’s around. 

Except lately, whispers a little voice at the back of his head. 

But he doesn’t see anyone. Doesn’t smell any fresh bread on the table, doesn’t feel the slight warmth emanating from the toaster oven or hear the whirring of the coffeemaker or whistling kettle. The kitchen is in the same state as when he stormed out of it last night- spotlessly clean and tidy.

Except that all the lights are out and there is no Amberly.

And when he goes to peer through the small window above the sink, the shards of the cup are gone, cleared away and stored who knows where. As if it had never happened. 

Even more guilt floods Remus’ heart. He bites his lip, trying to stave away the regret and shame eating at his thoughts. I had a really bad headache and she just wouldn’t leave me alone- why does she always have to be in my space, clinging around and trying to make me feel better-

The guilt recedes into a dull, sickly ache at the pit of his stomach.

He pads down the hallway, thinking that perhaps she’s in their little living room or the library, or even in the bathroom-

She’s not there. 

Her shoes are gone. So is her gray coat and her fraying blue- and- gray scarf.

Did she not come home from Pads’ last night?

Remus bites his lip, pushing his hair back from his forehead. Irrational fear is starting to swell at the back of his throat- what if she’s not coming back?

And it would be all your fault, whispers that insidious little voice at the back of his mind. You pushed her away, just like you do with everybody.

But all her things are still here-

You were horrible to her. 

He sinks down on the couch, covering his face with his hands. For the first time in many, many days, he finds himself missing Amberly. Missing her soft hair and bright eyes, her warm hands that always soothed the knots in his neck and shoulders, missing the faint aroma of lavender that laces her clothes and skin. Missing the way she would bring him breakfast in bed when he felt sick, bring him lunch, dinner- fuck, she’d done anything for him. Anything and everything. And it had become routine, since he knew that no matter what she’d come back to him.

Now he’s not so sure. 

Remus feels suddenly like he’s drowning and stands abruptly to open the window, letting crisp autumn air flood the room. 

A sound- a crackling, popping backfire- sputters through the air and he peers through the pane to the road.

Sirius’ motorcycle pulls up into their tiny driveway. Pads’ pale skin is flushed from the drive over, and his dark hair is tousled-

-because Amberly, who’s climbing off the back, is wearing his helmet. 

Remus’ heart pinches twice, painfully, as he looks at her from the outside. Looking past the person that he’s been shoving away, ignoring, drawing into his own pain, and seeing instead the girl he’d fallen in love with.

She’s gotten thinner. He hasn’t really noticed it, not of late- because you don’t give a fuck about her, whispers that painful part of his mind again. But her coat hangs loosely on her frame, and there are dark shadows under her eyes.

She’s never able to sleep when we fight.

But I never had a problem with it, so I didn’t care, did I?

For that matter, her eyes look big and glassy, and her lips are dry and chapped. Remus realizes that he can’t remember the last time he did something for her- the last time he’d rubbed her favorite hair cream through her curls or the last time he’s made her coffee. 

She’s been pouring herself into him, and he’s done nothing but throw her efforts back in her face. 

Guilt strikes him like a truck as he watches her speak to Padfoot for a few seconds, the older boy resting one leg on the curb, hands on the handlebars, as he says something with that little half-smirk all the girls in Gryffindor always loved. She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and Remus is torn between pain and jealousy. 

When was the last time she laughed like that?

Amberly finally turns, pushing her hair out of her face. She’s freshly showered, he realizes; she must have stayed the night at Pads’ place.

Which ordinarily wouldn’t be a problem- God knows the three of them (five, if you counted James and Lily) are in and out of each others’ houses at all hours of the day and night to hunt for food (Sirius), borrow books (Amberly), or fall asleep on the couch (Remus). But this time the little curl of jealousy in Remus morphs into something much bigger and uglier and angrier. 

She was with Pads and she left me alone.

Amberly comes to the door and opens it, not looking around her. She sets her bag down on the counter and goes to the sink to wash her hands. Her shoulders are relaxed. She doesn’t look upset. Or sad. Or anything, really. Just- calm?

It scares Remus, even though he doesn’t want to admit it. 

He comes out from behind the corner. 

Amberly jumps, hand going to her heart. “Good grief, Moony! You scared me.”

Her voice isn’t angry. Just absentmindedly cheerful and mildly surprised. 

“Did you stay at Sirius’ place?” he asks, trying to keep any emotion out of his voice as he stares at her, trying to discern her feelings.

Amberly nods, her back to him as she reaches for a glass and fills it with water from the faucet. “Yes. It was late and raining a bit, and he didn’t want me walking home by myself.”

“You could have called me.” It comes out harsher than he’d like, and Remus clears his throat. “I could have gotten you.”

She takes a sip of water and her hand tightens, ever so slightly, on the counter where she’s rested it. “I figured you were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why is it always my fault?”

This time his words are very, very harsh, and Amberly visibly recoils. Remus’ jaw twitches.

Amberly takes a deep breath, turning back to the sink and rinsing out her glass to place it in the dishwasher. “I didn’t say it was your fault. I just didn’t want to wake you up since I know it’s hard for you to sleep.”

“I’m not some invalid, you know”- Inwardly Remus is kicking himself, hating himself, at the angry words pouring from his lips, but he can’t seem to stop. It feels as though his pain is taking physical form in this black anger spouting out of him. 

She closes the dishwasher, being careful not to let it slam. Her voice is careful and controlled. “I know. Should I call you next time, then?”

“Sure. Go ahead,” spits Remus, breathing harder. He can feel a burning headache starting at the base of his skull, intensifying the helpless, guilty rage that’s swelling in his chest. “Although why would I bother? You and Sirius are so close, after all; why don’t you just bloody ask to talk to him and hang out with him and have him drive you home?”

This time Amberly whirls around to face him and her soft brown eyes are lit with golden fire. “Are you seriously going to say that, Remus? He drives me home one time”-

“Fucking sure,” snaps Remus, anger brimming in his throat. “It’s not like you even want to be around me anymore, is it?”

Something like a sob catches in Amberly’s throat. “That’s what you think? You really think I don’t want to be around you? Remus, do you know how much I’ve tried to be around you? Tried to help you, make you feel better”-

“Well, maybe I don’t want your help!”

The words ring loudly through the open kitchen. 

Amberly’s wide eyes brim with tears. 

Remus stares at her, breathing hard, and he doesn’t know where the next words come from, some dark and filthy crevice of his mind that should never see the light of day. 

“Maybe I don’t want you.”

Her lips part, a tiny bit, and the softest of strangled sounds escapes her mouth. 

Guilt pours over Remus, so heavy he can barely stand, and he reaches out a hand- “I didn’t mean that, I don’t”-

But Amberly has already pulled out her wand and vanished. 

[naturesapphic]

Heyy, you could make a story where little! Reader has diabetes and ends up having hypoglycemia so mommy! Natasha help the reader?

Headcannons: mommy!natasha helps little!fem!reader with her diabetes and hypoglycemia

Mommy!natasha romanoff x diabetic!little!fem!reader

Warnings: talks of diabetes, needles, medicine. Hurt/comfort

- when dr. Cho told you you had diabetes you were in shock

- luckily your girlfriend/caregiver was right there with you

- from then Natasha was always helping you stay on track of your eating and drinking

- she does it out of love and care for you, even though it can be much at times

- you didn’t even know that you hypoglycemia until that one day

- you felt off all day and your mommy couldn’t understand why

- you felt so weak and tired for no reason

- so Natasha took you back to dr. Cho and she checked everything

- she saw that you had very low blood sugar

- she immediately gave you some candy and it went up some and then over time it went back to normal

- dr. Cho advised Natasha that she needed to keep an eye on you and your blood sugar

- Dr. cho gave Natasha a lancet blood sugar kit

- Natasha took on the responsibility gladly

- you were confused in your headspace but you trusted your mommy and dr. Cho

- if you thought your mommy was on top of you when y’all found out y’all had diabetes? It got more strict from there

- you were very nervous about having to stick your finger to make sure your blood sugar was on track

- Natasha checked in the mornings and at night

- she would always do it, not allowing you to do it in your headspace in case you may accidentally hurt yourself

- when she had to do it, she would hold you real close and talk to you to distract you

- when it was over she would give you a little lollipop and a bunch of kisses and cuddles!

- she always made sure you were okay and for that you are always grateful for your mommy and her patience

A/n: I personally do not have diabetes or hypoglycemia BUT I know people who does and some family members have it so I know a little bit about it but I apologize if I got anything wrong. I hope the anon and the rest of y’all enjoyed it! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! :)

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Island: Entry 4

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

A Lost AU

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, Violence, Swearing, Death, Alcohol, Plane Crash, Various Inaccuracies, Just Gross Things in General.

- Entry 3 Here -

——————————

18+ Only - TW: Death

——————————

You dropped down at the mans side, the swelling having subsided just enough in one eye to see him looking at you.




“Hey.” you said softly, your hand on his shoulder.




Bradley hovered behind you, lingering at a distance to give you space, but he was also curious to hear what the man had to say.




The man groaned again and you felt a little deflated, having hoped for something a little more.




“Do you need anything?” You asked, taking the lancet and machine from his case.




“I…’m low.” He croaked. Your eyebrows creased and you looked at him in surprise.

“Hi…” you chuckled, “Ok let’s check how low.”


He held his finger out to you so you could prick it.




You pricked his finger and took his reading, the machine beeped and he was right, his levels were low.




“Here, I brought this just in case.” You pulled a candy bar out of your pocket. “Will you be able to eat it?”




“I think… I think so.” His lips were still swollen, but you could break off small pieces and feed it to him.




You gave him the first piece which he worked away at chewing, then the second.




“I think he can feed himself.” Bradley chimed in, his arms crossed over his broad chest.




“I don’t want him to choke. He might take too much.” You continued to give the man small pieces of the bar until it was gone, but you could feel Bradley over your shoulder the whole time.




“What’s your name?” You asked, dabbing at the man’s face with a damp shirt.




“Austin.” He grumbled out.




“Hi Austin… how are you feeling today?”




“���M fuckin’ hurtin’…” you picked up on his Southern accent quickly, his voice was deep and earthy.




“I can give you some painkillers, are you allergic to anything?”




He shook his head and you got up to rummage through the suitcase of medical supplies.




You found a box of tramadol and you popped out 2 of the pills.




“Here, can you sit up?” You asked as you returned.




Austin struggled into a sitting position, and you slid the pills into his mouth, handing him the water to drink.




He gulped them down and handed you back the water bottle.




You moved to stand up but suddenly Austin’s hand shot out to grab your wrist.




“Wait… what’s your name?” He asked through swollen lips.




“Y/N.” You smiled, and his hand released you,

falling back against his lap in exhaustion.




You let Megan help Austin get settled back down, hoping he’d be able to sleep for a while and the tramadol would help with that, and you got up to leave them be.




Bradley followed you as you went back to the suitcase to zip it up, hiding it under a piece of tarpaulin.




“Doc, I don’t know if I trust him.” He murmured, his arms crossed.


You looked up at Bradley with a humoured grin.

“What’s he gonna do? He’s hurt, I’m hardly afraid to give him treatment.” You chuckled.




“I know, it’s just… I’ve got a weird feeling.” He winced mid sentence, touching at his side.




“Hey, let me take a look at that.” You stood and walked up to him, and Bradley shivered slightly as your fingers skimmed his waistline as you lifted the bottom of his t-shirt.




You untied the makeshift bandage and bit your lip as you inspected the stitched wound.




Bradley watched you intently, a strange urge to run his fingers through your hair suddenly overcame him, and he had to clench his fists at his side.




You noticed the change in his demeanour. “Am I hurting you?” You asked, your eyes flicking up to look at him.




“No… I’m fine.”




“Ok, it doesn’t look infected, but I think a stitch got caught or pulled because there’s a bit of tearing. You need to take it easy for a while.”




You grabbed a bottle of vodka and a clean strip of t-shirt, dabbing it with the alcohol.

“I need to clean you up.” You stated, lifting his shirt up again and looking at him for confirmation to go ahead.

Ever the strong man, Bradley grinned down at you, “Do what you gotta do.”

You gently pressed the disinfectant against his stitches and felt Bradley tense under your hand, his abs contracting. You spent a few seconds longer than you needed to clean him up, secretly enjoying the feeling of his hot skin under your touch, and Bradley didn’t seem to mind your flat palm against his stomach and back as you held him in place while you did.

“All done.” You breathed, slightly flushed as you lowered his shirt back down.

“Just as I was beginning to enjoy it.” He joked.

“Well as luck would have it, I’ll need to do this again tomorrow. You hungry?”




“Starving.”




———————————




You had shared out a good portion of the plane food, splitting one tray between two people to make it last. There was enough to keep the starvation at bay, but there was only enough plane food to last another couple of days if everyone only ate one meal a day.




Once everyone had eaten, some complaining that they needed more, you decided it was a good idea to start collecting food, although you were worried about anyone going into the jungle.




You’d asked a few able bodied people to collect more firewood and a few to collect fruit from the trees along the beach, and there were even a couple of guys who were avid fishermen and they were more than happy with the task of creating a makeshift fishing rod and trying their hand at catching some dinner.




You began to collect palm leaves from low hanging branches that you could reach, as dark clouds began to hang over you. You were worried about the rain making everyone damp and sick, but thought if you could make some sort of shelter, you could attach it to the metal frame of the burnt hull and have somewhere to ride the bad weather out.




You noticed Bradley at the opposite end of the beach speaking to Jake, and they both nodded before heading off towards the jungle.




You dropped your collection of leaves and quickly made your way towards them.




“Wait! You’re not going back yet are you?” You felt panic begin to rise up in your chest.




“No, ma’am.” Jake responded, “We’re just goin’ to scope out the effigy site again to see if we can find anything that will help get us to Bob.”




You nodded, relieved that they weren’t venturing too far just before a storm.




“Be careful, okay? Don’t want you ripping any more stitches out, or I’ll have to sew you up again.”




“Looking forward to it, Doc.” He winked at you and gave you tired grin as he walked towards the jungle.




You weren’t sure if you were starting to develop feelings for him, or if the whole scenario you found yourself in was messing with your emotions, but your stomach somersaulted as you watched them disappear into the dangerous terrain ahead, hoping they would be back soon.




—————————




The jungle was darker than the last time they’d set foot inside it, but with the impending storm this wasn’t much of a surprise, and they trudged forward with as much trepidation as standing behind an angry steed. The jungle felt angry, almost like every tree waited for just the right moment to snatch them up and imprison them in their splintery limbs.

As they neared the clearing, they quickly realised something was different. The smell of death was gone, and as they entered they found that the Effigy had been moved.




“It was here, wasn’t it?” Jake queried as he looked around, perplexed.




Bradley didn’t respond, a sense of dread filling his bones as he walked to the centre of the clearing where the effigy once was, and bent down to inspect something on the ground.


His back was turned to Jake, but Jake knew something was wrong when Bradley didn’t move for a moment.




“What is it?” Jake asked.




Bradley slowly stood, holding something Jake couldn’t see. He turned around and the first thing Jake noticed was the look of concern etched across his face. The second thing he noticed was Bob’s glasses in Bradley’s hand.







—————————




With Reuben’s help, you managed to build a temporary shelter on the hull big enough to keep everyone dry for the night, and you had built it just in time, as big fat drops of rain began to pelt down and make indents in the fluffy white sand.




Everyone scrambled for shelter inside and huddled tightly together, waiting for the storm to pass. Adrian was still tied up, but he’d now been tied to the frame of the hull instead, not having spoken a word since the day before, and Austin lay against the side, out of the way of everyone as he slept.




“How much longer until they send someone to rescue us?” The little boy with the injured arm sniffled.




“Not long now, darling.” His mom lied. She had been found face down in the water, and luckily someone had resuscitated her quickly enough. They both looked worn out.




You rested your head against your knees as the heavy rain poured down, distant thunder rumbling over the mountains. You knew you would need to make a fire once the rain died down, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a sign in the sand for passing planes, but you were physically and mentally exhausted already, and desperately worried about Bradley, Jake and Bob, so the last thing you wanted was to think of all of the work that lay ahead of you.

At least Austin was starting to look and feel a bit better, his extensive swelling was already beginning to subside and was being replaced with dark bruises.

Austin shifted in his sleep, and you checked to make sure he was still ok before you allowed yourself to lay down next to him, sighing as you listened to the rain and thunder.

“You’re stressed.” Austin mumbled. You looked over at him, his eyes were still closed and his hands rested on his torso, breathing steadily.

“I am… I think we all are though.”

“Not as much as you are, Doc. I can feel it vibrating off of you. You worry too much about everyone, and not enough about yourself.” His lips were still swollen, making it hard for him to speak, so you appreciated him making the effort.

“That’s my job.” You sighed.

“Just wait until I get better, then I’ll take care of you, promise.” He murmured, turning to his side, facing away from you.

Your eyebrows creased together as you thought about what he said.

Perhaps Austin was the type of person who liked to look after others, that’s what you thought it must have been, but you gave it no further thought as you dozed off on the sand, unaware of the chaos that was about to unfold.

—————————

Your nap was interrupted not too much later by murmurs and loud gasps.

You stirred and strained your ears, still half asleep, but you jolted upright as you heard a familiar voice in the distance.

“Quickly! Get him down. Where’s Doc?” Bradley yelled urgently from the far side of the beach.

You scrambled to your feet and ran through the rain towards Bradley and Jake as they carried someone between them.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, “You found Bob?”

“He’s real hurt, Doc. I don’t think he’s breathin’.” Jake puffed as he dropped to his knees, and Bradley followed, laying Bob on his back in the sand, rain pattering down on his pale skin. Bob was covered head to toe in blood, so much so you couldn’t even tell where it was coming from.

You bent over Bob and patted his cheek desperately, “Bob! Bob wake up…” his head lolled under you touch, his lips blue.

“Bob, open your eyes, please.” but you feared it was in vain, as his skin was ice cold and you were sure he wasn’t breathing.

You placed your ear close to his lips and listened, but couldn’t hear anything over the rain.

“Fuck…” you breathed and started to administer CPR. “Bob don’t do this, come on.”

You pumped against his chest but you struggled against tired arms to keep it going, and you began to cry as they started to give in.

“Come on!” You wailed, putting all of your weight behind you.

“Doc, stop… I… I can do it.” Bradley sniffled next to you, grabbing your hands and moving them away from Bob.

You looked at Bradley with brimming eyes, and you knew then what was obvious to everyone else already.

Bob was gone and there was nothing you or anyone else could do.

“No… we need to keep going…” you sobbed in disbelief.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Bradley began pumping Bob’s chest, just to prove to you he wasn’t giving up until you said so.

You pinched Bob’s nose and blew air into his mouth, and you flinched at how cold he was. “No no no. Come on.” You sniffled, before blowing air into his lungs again.

You knew it was too late, but your heart ached that you couldn’t save him.

Bradley’s muscles rippled under his weight as he pushed down against Bob’s chest, and you sat back and just watched for a second, tears streaming down your face as realisation hit you like a tonne of bricks.

Jake paced up and down in tight lines as he rubbed his face, muttering something to himself.

You reached out and grabbed Bradley’s arm, stopping him. Bradley turned and looked at you, heartache in his eyes.

You shook your head and Bradley let a tear fall, his jaw clenching tight as he sat back on his heels, his shoulders slumping.

You threw yourself into Bradley’s arms and wrapped yours tightly around his neck. Bradley held onto you, his arms around your waist and you sobbed into his neck, the rain drenching your hair and clothes.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Bradley’s hand came up and tangled in your hair, holding you in place against him. “There was nothing you could have done, we were too late.” His voice shook as he held back further tears.

Jake stood over Bob’s body, his hand covering his mouth in disbelief as the rest of the survivors watched in horror from the shelter.

You stayed in Bradley’s arms for what felt like a long while, desperately seeking the comfort they offered, and you could feel his heart beat thudding against you, reminding you just how alive he and everyone else was.

You pulled away, suddenly angry at the world and especially at the creatures that caused this.

Standing to your feet, you turned to face the survivors, wiping the tears and rain from your face.

“Jake I’m going to need your gun, I’m going in.”

—————————

- Entry 5 Here -

Taglist:

@randomfangirlof @scarletseresin @halflifejess @bradshawbaby @leather-n-velvet

Authors note:

This is who I imagine Austin as but feel free to imagine him however you like! He will become a rather important character so I feel like he deserves a face:

[himluv]

Reunion

Just a little (incomplete) exercise in what I think Solas and Riallan's reunion in Veilguard might look like...

If you like this, read their entire story Inevitable on AO3.

“Solas.”

He flinched at her voice, even though he knew she would come. He knew the moment she entered the Crossroads, felt the echo of her footsteps the instant she set foot in the Lighthouse. And still, he could not bring himself to face her.

“Inquisit–”

Trembling arms wrapped around his torso, Riallan’s face pressed between his shoulder blades. A shuddering breath and then, “you’re safe?”

Solas gripped her wrist, not to remove her arm from his chest, but to anchor himself in her familiar warmth. He’d been such a fool, in so, so many respects.

“I am safe,” he promised, and it was the truth. While he might be frustratingly trapped in a prison of his own design, he was safe in this corner of the Beyond. Of course, as real as their shared dreams always were, Riallan was not there physically with him now.

She was safe with this Rook and their companions in the Lighthouse. The lancet of pain at the thought of Riallan in his home, perusing his books, eating at his once lonesome table brought a sting to his eyes.

“I am so sorry,” he said.

She heaved another sob, her ribcage expanding against his back, but she nodded. “Me too.”

They stood like that for a long moment, Riallan crying against him and Solas holding her hand firm to his chest. Slowly, her breaths evened out and that familiar determination steeled her voice. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Solas turned to face her. “Vhenan–”

He had not looked upon her face in so long. Too long. Long enough that the creases at the corners of her eyes startled him. He stood dumbstruck by the evidence of their years apart etched on her face. The creases yes, but also the laugh lines around her mouth had deepened, promising years of smiles and laughter he would never know. But the most stunning change were the threads of silver in her hair, now long and curling, tamed in a thick braid down her back.

His hand shook as he cupped her cheek. “Ria.”

Fresh tears pooled in those emerald eyes and she gave him the softest little smile. “You haven’t changed,” she said.

He brushed a thumb under her eye, tracing her cheekbone to reacquaint his fingers with the feel of her skin. Still soft, but not as smooth as the last time he’d been permitted to touch her this way. He blinked, surprised by the wetness that spilled onto his cheek.

She shushed him, wiping away his tears. But somehow that only made it worse. Even after more than a decade in this world he could not comprehend the passing of time. He’d misjudged the weight of years on mortal bodies and with every reunion he felt the cost of his failures more acutely. First Varric, and now her? His heart?

“I’ve wasted so much time,” he whispered.

Riallan shook her head, though he knew she didn’t disagree with him. “That doesn’t matter now,” she said. “All that matters is that you’re safe and that we find a way to get you out of here.”

Solas’s stomach dropped, his jaw clenched, and it was enough for her to notice. Those emerald eyes bored into him, demanding answers once more. “Ria…”

“You can be released,” she said, as if simply claiming so would make it true. “If you can enter this cage then you can be released from it.”

“Yes,” he said, but there was no hope in his voice.

“Then, what?”

He swallowed against a fresh wave of emotion that swelled up from his chest. “The only way to release me back into the physical world–” he took a deep breath and looked her in the eye “–would be to destroy the Veil. Completely.”

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Sentient Media:

In a new paper, University of Miami Professor Jennifer Jacquet and a team of researchers argue that the industry-funded National Cattlemen’s Beef Association (NCBA) knew about the harms of beef production on climate change as early as 1989 and worked to obfuscate the science. In a subsequent paper, Jacquet and post-doctoral associate Loredana Loy trace how trade groups worked to incite doubt that consumers could make a difference, by choosing to eat less meat, on global climate emissions. There is some evidence, albeit indirect, that these efforts have paid off — a 2023 public poll of 1,404 U.S. adults found 74 percent of them said not eating meat would have little or no impact on climate change.

“Meat and dairy does not want the individual or the consumer to think they have any power, or to think that their choices make a difference at all,” Jacquet tells Sentient. “They’re constantly saying what you do as a consumer will not make a difference. ‘Eating less meat and dairy will not make a difference.’”

Yet a large body of climate research from nonpartisan research groups like the World Resource Institute and EAT-Lancet have concluded that dietary change, in the form of reducing meat consumption, is a necessary component of reducing the anthropogenic effects of climate change.

In a parallel to Naomi Oreskes’s and Eric Conway’s Merchants of Doubt, which details how a group of scientists worked to incite doubt around scientific topics such as anthropogenic climate change and the harmful effects of tobacco, Jacquet’s and Loy’s research describes how the meat and dairy industry worked to create doubt that consumers can take action to address the harmful effects of beef on the environment. “I call them the moo-chants of doubt,” Jacquet says.

In their other paper, Jacquet and her fellow researchers trace how this stems from a history of recognizing, then downplaying, the effects of the beef industry on global warming.

“There is a long, well-documented history of industry attempts to downplay, discredit and even outright deny science that demonstrates the harms of its activities and products. This strategy was honed to a fine art by the tobacco industry; the beef industry now appears to be following the tobacco model,” Oreskes wrote to Sentient.

The question that underlies the research investigating the impacts of industry funding is just how much free will consumers have in their decision-making — especially if the information they receive is flawed. 

Trade groups like the NCBA are funded by industry checkoffs, which farmers who sell the commodity pay into on each unit they sell. The checkoff industry is a pot of money worth over $1 billion, and is used for researching and marketing the commodity. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that a commodity program would work to make its commodity look good. But the result, in this case, Jacquet argues, is a misinformed public.

[lostcybertronian]

Home

I'm just glad to be writing again. I don't care.

Once again inspired by @breakdownsbuttlights Humanformers AU, Dratchet.

---

Stepping through the door into their home brought immense relief. Drift paused at the threshold to flip the kitchen light, flooding the space with a warm glow. He’d taken great pains to get the house cleaned up in Ratchet’s absence; Ratchet’s issues of The Lancet and Science were stacked neatly on the counter instead of scattered about the living room, and Drift’s various cooking tools were put away instead of being piled by the sink, waiting for their next use. Even the floor was pristine.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Drift wheeled Ratchet further into the house, settling him by the kitchen counter while he unpacked the plastic shopping bag hanging from one wrist. Half a dozen prescription bottles went into a tidy line, one by one. “Anything has to be better than hospital food.”

“I’m not hungry, kid.” Dark circles ringed Ratchet’s tired, bloodshot eyes and it felt like his limbs were made of lead. But he still managed a small smile. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hit the hay.”

Drift was already nodding and untwisting the caps of each pill bottle, checking and double-checking the labels like he hadn’t already memorized what they were and when to give them. “I’m not hungry, either,” he added, casual, like this was just another night in. Like Ratchet hadn’t spent the past three nights in the hospital, like this wasn’t his second heart attack.

Like he wasn’t already showing the signs of congestive heart failure.

Drift pressed the pills into his slightly quivering hands, then a glass of water, then a kiss to his temple. “Take them. They’ll make you feel better.”

Ratchet shot him a look that asked exactly which of us is the doctor, here, but obediently downed the pills. 

They fell into bed an exhausted tangle, Ratchet’s head buried in Drift’s chest and his arms wrapped solidly around his waist, one hand gripping his shirt like he would disappear if he let go.

Drift clutched him close, pressing kisses to Ratchet’s unwashed mop of hair, running his hands over his back in soothing circles. Some of the tension left him when Ratchet’s breathing went from short and strained to even and mostly smooth, but despite getting next to no rest the past few days– even after they kicked him out of the hospital, when visiting hours closed– Drift wouldn’t sleep a wink.

[kaunis-sielu]

Dangerous Places: 6

When you’re done with the bathroom you slowly make your way to the door. Captain is still in the bedroom, when you open the door he’d looked up.

“Alright, food?” He asks and you stare up at him, “you’ve gotta be hungry. It’s almost noon.”

“Oh, um food would be good.” You look past him and out the window. You can’t tell that it’s daytime out there, it’s unnerving.

“Alright, come on up Bunny.” He says holding out his arms before he gently scoops you up. You’re not sure where to look, you can’t look at him but it’s weird looking the way you’re walking. You settle on looking at your knees, the little scar there that you can see from when you were a kid and banged it open on the corner of the stairs.

Steve sets you down back on the counter. The way he so effortlessly carries you around is kind of astonishing.

“What do you want? We have,” he pulls open the fridge and frowns, “some beer. Don’t these animals eat?” He grumbles. “Alright Bunny, what do you want me to order in?”

“I don’t know.”

“Too many options.” He murmurs to himself and you’re surprised because that’s exactly what it is. “Okay, do you want Italian or Asian?”

“Italian?”

“Yea, pizza, pasta, that kind of stuff.”

“Italian please.”

“Okay, pasta or pizza?”

“Um, pizza please. Just cheese.” You haven’t eaten in a while so you don’t want to upset your stomach.

“Alright, I’ll get some actual groceries in here for you soon.”

“Okay.” It’s weird that he’s treating you so kindly, after all he did threaten you and kidnap you and is holding you hostage. So maybe he’s not being so kind after all.

“Alright, let’s make a list so that you can have food you like. Do you like to cook?”

“Yes.”

“Anything you need.”

“Where is my stuff?”

“Should be here later.” He says dismissively and it kind of pisses you off. You don’t dare say anything but you do glare at the floor in front of you. “Look at me.” His tone is gentle when he gives the command and you comply. “Oh Bunny.” He says with a grin, “I like seeing some fire from you. What’s got you bothered?”

“I can’t just live here without my shit. I need my phone and some other stuff.”

“You can’t have your phone.”

“Then you have to take me back to my apartment.” He sighs heavily,

“Bunny, we have gone over this. It isn’t happening.”

“I’m diabetic. I need my sensors, reader and medication.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He looks irritated as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t just as easy as snatching a woman out of her bed!” You snap, and he smirks over at you.

“Buck, I have some stuff I need you to get now. No, now.” He looks up at you, “Bunny where’s your stuff?”

“Pens are in the fridge and my pills are in the bathroom in the mirror. The needles and alcohol wipes are in the second drawer in the bathroom and so are the sensors, they’re in boxes. I have some lancets and another sensor in my purse.” You tell him,

“You hear that Buck? Good. I want that here in the next twenty minutes.” He pauses then growls, “No, I’m not fuckin joking. Get it here.” The power of this man is truly stunning, and a little terrifying. You’re starting to feel like he might actually be different than Crossbones, but then you remember his “business” he had to take care of before you went to sleep.

They’re all the same, all sharp edges and violence.

He texts someone else then looks up at you,

“What do you want to do while we wait for food?”

“When did you order?”

“I texted one of the ladies our order. I thought you might like having a woman around.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know he had women, your opinion of him was correct he’s just like Crossbones.

“So, movie? Tv? Reading? Just sitting here in silence looking at one another? What do you want to do?”

“I don’t care.” You say gently, you won’t be fooled by a mob man again.

“I want you to be comfortable here. I know this isn’t where you want to be but if I can at least make you comfortable I will.”

“Oh,”

“You said actions right?” You nod, “so you’ll see. Why don’t we go to the couch, we can eat there too.” He sets you on the couch before dropping down a cushion away. He turns the tv on and starts switching through the channels. There’s a knock on the door and he calls,

“Come in.” So Winter does and he has your supplies. He brings them to you and you pull out what you need to test, you have a feeling that you’re low, you put the lancet in then place it on your finger and push the button. You test your blood sugar and sure enough you’re low, even worse the number is going lower.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” You lie and Steve hums lowly,

“Try again Bunny. The truth this time.”

“I’m low, but it’s fine.”

“What do you need? Juice? Candy?”

“Juice works.” You tell him, “um, apple?” Steve looks at Winter who nods and leaves again.

“Bunny, when it comes to your health you tell me what you need.”

“Yes, Captain. Steve. Sorry.”

“Good girl.” He says and your gaze snaps to his, a slow smirk crosses his face. “I wondered if you might like that.”

“I don’t.” You lie and he chuckles,

“Your eyes tell me different Bunny.” You glare at him and he grins over at you. There’s another knock at the door, this one seems softer, less aggressive than Winter.

“Come in.” The door opens and a pretty red headed woman pushes open the door.

“Hey Cap, you wanted some pizza? Oh, hello.” She says seeing you.

“Hi.”

“Widow, thanks for picking that up.” Steve says and she nods putting the two pizza boxes on the table.

“How are you doing Honey?” She asks but you don’t say anything, instead you glance over at Steve.

“You can talk to her Bunny.”

“I’m fine.” You lie and she looks between you and Steve.

“Cap, out.” She demands,

“But pizza.” He practically whines and you stare at him in absolute shock.

“Oh take the damn thing with you you big baby.” You stare at her in astonishment, she can’t just talk to him like that can she? Steve groans softly but stands from the couch, grabs one of the boxes of pizza and leaves the house.

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @vicmc624 @abschaffer2 @patzammit @inkedaztec @sophham

[inkadink17]

November is Diabetes Awareness Month and in case you didn’t know, Levi is type 1 diabetic!

Diabetes is a disease that occurs when the blood sugar is too high and the pancreas isn’t producing enough insulin to turn the glucose we get from food into energy.

Someone who is diabetic has to not only be careful of what they eat but use medical equipment such as CGMs, an insulin pump with an infusion set, lancet pens, glucose meters etc..

Sometimes diabetes is the root cause of more dangerous illnesses such as kidney and heart diseases. But there are ways to prevent it!

Most notable ones being to manage your weight and to not consume high amounts of carbohydrates and sugars.

That’s all I had to say k byeee 🫠✨

[babschesterton]

The Old Woman of Lancet

inspired by @r6ginageorge !

they tell stories of the old lady of lancet. they say she never leaves the old farmhouse, that the ivy covered gate never opens. they say she could never cook in her youth, but now she does, and she leaves an extra meal on the table every day, but there's no one to eat it. they say that she doesn't care for the garden. they say that sometimes you can see her on the porch, talking to someone no one else can see. sometimes she walks the drive in a tattered black coat, murmuring, her grey hair worn in a tight bun that went out of fashion years ago. they say something happened to the old lady of lancet, but no one can remember what it is, except for a girl named rosalie, and she refuses to tell. sometimes rosalie visits the house and leaves flowers at the gate, but all they do is rot away under the sun. the only person the old woman lets in is the grocer, and he tries not to feed the rumors, but he tells of a house covered in photos of a redhead he does not know, of the smell of cigarettes that hangs in the air, of the plaid robe the old lady is always wearing when he comes. sometimes, the woman puts on a record and dances by herself in the empty room, her arms around the air as she waltzes with only the dust and the setting sun. no one remembers her name. someone thinks it's karen, someone else thinks it's martha, but lancet never knows. they would be scared of her, but she's harmless. she even leaves candy out on halloween. they wonder what happened in the house she wastes away in.

[meret118]

After all, years of studies have suggested that small amounts of alcohol can favorably tweak cholesterol levels, keeping arteries clear of gunk and reducing coronary heart disease. Moderate alcohol use has been endorsed by many doctors and public health officials for years. We’ve all seen the Times headlines.Now, 25 years later, you’re likely feeling a fair bit of whiplash. According to new guidelines released in recent months by the World Health Organization, the World Heart Federation, and the Canadian Centre on Substance Abuse and Addiction, the safest level of drinking is—brace yourself—not a single drop.

. . .

At  least one researcher had doubts all along. In 1988, before the media circus began and the guidelines flipped, Gerald Shaper, an epidemiologist in London, put forth what is called the “sick-quitter hypothesis.” According to Shaper, it was possible that abstainers like those in Klatsky’s study and the Honolulu Heart Study had quit drinking because they had already developed a health problem. If abstainers were sicker, then moderate drinkers would look healthier.

To put his idea to the test, he analyzed the data from a major study, the British Regional Heart Study, but added a twist. He compared abstainers and moderate drinkers, just as in the original study—then separated them by preexisting cardiovascular disease. That way, he could compare groups of men with similar cardiovascular health profiles. The J-shaped curve vanished. In Shaper’s view, alcohol’s supposed health benefits were an artifact of number crunching. Writing in the Lancet, he lobbed the academic equivalent of a verbal grenade: “It seems that any analysis which uses non-drinkers or occasional drinkers as a baseline is likely to be misleading.”

Shaper’s ideas were soundly dismissed. “He was rounded up and beaten by his colleagues academically,” Stockwell said.

. . .

Meanwhile, it grew increasingly difficult to pin the French paradox on wine alone. Yes, French people drink more red wine, but they also eat more fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and olive oil, as well as modest amounts of meat—and in smaller portions. In other words, pretty close to the Mediterranean diet, which, as loads of research has demonstrated, bolsters cardiovascular health and may account for low obesity rates in France. It also turns out that, for some reason, the French significantly underreport heart disease on death certificates, according to a WHO investigation. Add all this up, and the French people start to seem less paradoxical. And all that research into red wine as an antioxidant superfood? You’d have to drink life-threatening quantities of wine a day to get protective amounts of micronutrients like resveratrol. Even studies that packaged resveratrol into a pill were duds.

. . .

But the bad news about drinking was only getting worse. Just as alcohol’s heart-healthy reputation was taking a hit, evidence was piling up that it was a bigger cause of cancer than previously thought. The WHO had declared alcohol a carcinogen as early as 1988, citing “sufficient evidence,” but in the years that followed, this evidence grew more and more alarming. We now know that any amount of alcohol increases the risk of cancer—particularly breast cancer. Drinking also increases the risk of liver, mouth, colon, and other cancers. And it’s not just heavy drinking: Cancer risk increases infinitesimally with each sip, in part because alcohol is metabolically converted into acetaldehyde, which damages DNA.

One team of scientists computed a “cigarette-equivalent of population cancer harm” and found that in terms of lifetime cancer risk, drinking a bottle of wine a week is like, for men, smoking five cigarettes or, for women, 10 cigarettes a week. Almost 4 percent of cancers diagnosed worldwide in 2020 were due to drinking, according to the WHO. In the U.S., that adds up to about 75,000 cancer cases and 19,000 cancer deaths each year. It’s estimated that 15 percent of all breast cancers are due to drinking. And yet, people seem blissfully unaware of this: A recent study found that only 39 percent of Americans were aware that alcohol can cause cancer, compared with 93 percent with tobacco. In another study, 10 percent of people even believed that alcohol prevented cancer.

. . .

The history of Big Alcohol’s involvement in the science is as complex as an aged cabernet and as potent as Everclear. Experts I spoke with pointed to at least three ways the industry has tried to shape the scientific landscape to its liking. First, it employed classic industry subversion techniques, attempting to rig significant studies. Second, it strategically amplified the work of scientists without tainting the literature itself. And third, it deftly exploited a culture war that’s been simmering since Prohibition and that molds the scientific questions being asked in the first place.

. . .

My read of the literature is that very light drinking (think half a drink a day) might slightly reduce the risk of a heart attack in older adults, but even then, the negative effects on overall health outweigh the benefits. The truth is that as little as one drink a day increases the chances you’ll die sooner, and heavier drinking leads to various other health and behavioral issues—making alcohol the seventh-highest cause of death and disability worldwide. From a public health perspective, reducing per capita alcohol consumption saves lives, full stop

[knickynoo]

heyyyy so. i love your blog. and i was wondering, what you think about the headcanon that marty could be diabetic? with what little evidence we have in the movies? ( for example, him turning away peanut brittle which is ALL SUGAR, always drinking sugar free pepsi, asking for something without sugar in 55 at the diner, shoving food in his mouth after the phone call with doc in the morning before he goes to the twin pines lot, etc) i have a headcanon that doc keeps a stash of candy or snacks for marty if his blood sugar crashes or goes low. ( and i know the sleepiness and implied laziness of marty was probably due to mjf being sleep deprived but i read that thats a side effect of low blood sugar?? ) and not to mention the layers he always wears, probably bc hes cold ??? idk , ive had that hc for a while and i just wanted to know your opinions and thoughts on it ??

Ahhh, the return of one of my favorite fringe BTTF headcanons. I saw this ask initially when it popped into my inbox a handful of days ago, but I wanted to have the time to sit and answer it in depth because it really is such an intriguing headcanon. I've only ever encountered it two or so times in the fandom (and one of those times was another ask I'd gotten last year), and I do enjoy exploring the less talked about theories.

I will put this under a read more, on account of I have lots of thoughts, as well as personal experience that allows me some particular insight into how this headcanon might play out for Marty. I'm not diabetic, but I do have a condition that causes a variety of fun issues, one being hypoglycemia. Basically, I have frequent episodes of low blood sugar and need to monitor my glucose level and keep it up by eating often. That being said! Some thoughts on the "Marty is diabetic" headcanon.

• My very first thought is: this kid better be prepared and have lots of supplies stuffed into the pockets of his many clothing layers because otherwise, he's in trouble. Honestly, this is the biggest barrier for me in terms of the headcanon. Marty is on a non-stop, adrenaline fueled ride for most of the trilogy. Between the constant running and chaos and sneaking around and life and death situations, he'd need to find the time during his day for finger pricks to check his blood sugar levels, staying on top of eating regularly, and injecting insulin. That means carrying a glucometer, a lancing device, lancets, alcohol wipes, test strips, syringes, and vials of insulin. He'd likely carry a bag or something that has all this in it.

• BUT! If he left his house that evening and ventured to the mall without any supplies (thinking it'd be a quick outing), one of his first priorities upon becoming stuck in 1955 would be acquiring whatever he needed. His first opportunity for that would be once he arrives at Doc's house and convinces him he's a time traveler. After getting Doc to believe him, Marty would have to be all, "Oh, and, uh, Doc? I really hope you have some medical doctor friends or something because we need to get our hands on some supplies. Like, now."

Then, on top of all the shock that came with being hurtled through time, Marty would have the additional challenge of adjusting to 1950s era diabetes management. No at home glucometer (those weren't available until 1981), and the syringes were large and made of metal. It'd be difficult, but not impossible, for Marty to manage the disease during his travels.

• For the purposes of this hc, let's assume he somehow brought along all his supplies stuffed into secret pockets in his puffy vest. Or, perhaps he uses a portable insulin pump, which became more widely available in the 1980s. It'd look something like this.

The end of the tube would have a needle that'd be inserted under the skin on his lower abdomen, and he'd be able to dose insulin that way. The device would have to be clipped to his pants somewhere. Not sure if Twin Pines McFlys would be able to access this new (and probably super expensive) device for their son. Maybe Doc makes one for him! I could totally see him doing that.

• Anyway, in terms of Marty turning down the peanut brittle, drinking sugar free Pepsi, and asking for something without sugar, it might or might not have anything to do with diabetes in this headcanon scenario. Contrary to what many think, diabetics (type 1 at least, which is what Marty would likely have) don't need to avoid sugar. They need to be mindful of sugar just as any other person should, but they generally don't have dietary restrictions. Sugar would for sure impact his glucose levels, and he'd have to be mindful of that, but as long as he balanced it with the appropriate amount of insulin, he'd be good to go.

It could be that Marty just wants to avoid having to account for extra insulin and avoid a potential spike, so he turns down some sugary foods every so often. Diabetics have to keep careful track of how many carbs they consume, as that determines how much insulin to inject, so if Marty already took his dose for dinner, for example, it'd make sense he'd say no to the peanut brittle even if he wanted it. Otherwise, he'd have to do another injection to cover the carbs from it, and who has the time for that when you're busy sulking over the wrecked car??

• Something Marty would really need to be careful about during all his adventures is making sure his blood sugar doesn't dip too low. High blood sugar isn't good, but low blood sugar (hypoglycemia) is actually more dangerous and considered an immediate emergency. Your blood sugar can be high and rise a good deal before you start to get negative health effects, but once your blood sugar dips below 70 mg/dL, you need to treat it right away. He'd need to be eating regularly, making sure his insulin is matching the amount he's eating, and ALSO factor in that physical activity makes blood sugar levels drop. And all that running he does? Yeah, he's gonna need snacks on hand.

You mentioned sleepiness being a symptom of low blood sugar, and you're right. But if Marty is at that point, it'd likely mean he'd be having a serious hypoglycemic episode. A "normal" blood sugar range is about 80-120, though meals will bring it higher for a bit before you level back out. Once you get below 70, your brain is literally being starved of glucose, which it needs to function. Very quickly, you get hit with a lot of symptoms. Blurry vision, trouble concentrating and speaking, tremors, profuse sweating, tiredness, rapid heart rate and breathing to name a few.

If you manage to catch it soon enough, you can treat the low on your own—by eating or drinking something high carb or taking some glucose tablets—but it's also very difficult to get a meal or some snacks when you're shaking like a leaf and can't even think straight. My blood sugar dipped to 49 the other week, and I went from feeling a little off to experiencing all those symptoms in a matter of a minute or two. For Marty to reach that level in the midst of trying to repair timelines would be difficult, to say the least. An untreated low will lead to unconsciousness, seizures, and even death.

Of course, if Marty is prepared, he'd know to snack during the day to keep himself stable. And I do imagine that '85 Doc's garage is stocked with snacks good for bringing up blood sugar (especially juice, which is one of the BEST ways to bring blood sugar up quickly. My fridge is filled with it.)

• I'm a little concerned about how Marty would fare in Part III, but I assume he'd be well prepared at that point. Let's assume that when Doc came to pick Marty up at the end of Part I, he already had a supply kit ready in the car (Doc absolutely would have a kit for "just in case" that he kept in his garage and brought along if they were going somewhere, and I think he'd have the foresight to bring it to the future). Marty could then have it still for his stay in 1955 while he and Doc prepared the DeLorean for the Old West, and he'd be able to have it for his time spent there in Part III. Very large kit, okay? Doc is super prepared. Although, now that I'm thinking about it, a kit like that would probably still be in the car when Doc gets zapped to the Old West, so....not sure about this one, friends. Let's hope Marty has some stuff in his pockets and that '55 Doc can then help him out in gathering more things together for his trek to 1885.

Well. I'd say I've gone on long enough. In conclusion: Diabetic Marty is a fascinating concept and, while it'd be difficult for him, he could conceivably manage it all during the trilogy if he's careful and has Doc looking out for him as well. There are lots of "missing scenes" and things we don't see in the movies, so Marty could be using that downtime for testing and injecting and guzzling down juice.

Thanks for the ask! This was a fun one.

[rainbowrosegames]

Gotta say, the worst part of diabetes is having to find something to eat even when you don't wanna eat. Because otherwise you risk a low and it feels terrible. For me anyway, lows (blood sugar 70mg/dl and below, 80 is just a little funky) feel like you're actively dying. Visions get blurry, a little harder to move, all that. You shut down.

What sucks even more, you can't even push through a full day of walking around at something like a museum or city. You gotta pack tons of snacks so you don't keel over and die or something. And pack emergency candies too.

This also adds to the need to carry a bag with you everywhere. If you have a Constant Glucose Monitor, you need to stay within 10-20 feet of it at all times so it doesn't lose signal. You need to pack your glucometer, Lancing stick, test strips, lancets. Your phone, your receiver, ketone test strips.

You need tons of water too if you get highs. Whats worse about that is if you're high (300 and up) you can't exercise because the body decides to defy the laws of everything and exercise instead of making you low, makes you higher.

And nobody ever talks about anything like this, any of the risks and complications of diabetes (like being prone to more infections which is even worse as a woman iykyk), they just stigmatize, and joke, and you just see vague diabetes medication ads that don't go into details, nothing.

[can-of-pringles]

Diabetic OC Ask Game

I haven't ever seen any ask games revolved around this so I thought I'd make one myself.

When was your oc diagnosed?

Does your oc celebrate their diaversary?

Does your oc have any Diabetic friends?

Has your oc had mostly good or bad experiences with endos?

Does your oc use a CGM? If so which one?

Is your oc on a pump? If so which one?

Was your oc affected in any way by Animas shutting down?

Where does your oc prefer to put pump sites (or sensors if they have a CGM)

Does your oc wear a pump pack/bag thing or just put the pump in a pocket? Something else?

Does your oc decorate their pump with anything like pumppeelz? What style of sticker do they usually like?

Does your oc use decorative sensor covers to hold on their censor (or site) better?

What annoying stereotype or bad joke does your oc hate the most?

Has your oc been to any Diabetes camps?

Does your oc handle their site changes/sensor changes/injections by themselves or does someone help them?

Does your oc prefer to deal with lows or highs?

What candy does your oc prefer when low?

Has your oc ever been to a walk event? (Like JDRF)

Was your oc the only kid at school to be Diabetic? If not, how did they get along with the other Diabetic kids?

Did your oc's parents do The Great Pumpkin during Halloween? (Instead of eating all your Halloween candy you'd "give" it to The Great Pumpkin and pick out a toy instead)

Has anyone ever touched your oc's pump/tubing/site/sensor/CGM without permission?

Is your oc mostly responsible with their Diabetes or tends to take more risks?

Does your oc have any favorite characters who are also Diabetic?

Did your oc ever name their pump?

Does your oc ever have any odd food cravings when low?

Does your oc prefer a more customized bag for their kit? (meter, test strips, lancet) or just the standard plain one they usually come with by default

How many pump replacements has your oc gone through if at all?

Is your oc pretty prepared for lows every time they go out or not?

Does your oc have a Diabetic Alert Dog?

Does your oc have a good support system to help them with their Diabetes?

Does your oc have a Rufus bear or Lenny the lion? Some other Diabetic stuffed animal?

Blank space to put anything you want to add.

[rodrigobera04]

Water type list. Countdown, nine types left to finish the lists.

WATER pure

Tilapia with healing scales, keeps the fry in its mouth.

Military-themed seahorse, holds its soldier babies in its belly.

Piscinoid elemental with wave fins.

Luminous microorganisms that make water glow.

Turtle with a shell shaped like a canoe.

Giant tadpole that evolves into a tiny frog.

Water spirit possessing a spinning water wheel.

Fishing bat that now uses its wings as flippers.

Fish jumping out of the water with its tail, like in a sack race.

WATER/GROUND

Land whale releasing a geyser from its blowhole.

Bipedal lungfish, using its long fins as tentacles.

Predatory midkipper swimming in the mud like a shark.

Marsh rat camouflaged with mud and marsh plants.

Bobbit worm that now attacks beaches as well as the seabed.

Duck made of clay that swims through the mud.

Dogfish that runs across the land like a dog would run.

Manatee creating underwater sandstorms while pulling up plants to eat.

Desert frog that appears when it rains, being filled with stored water.

WATER/GRASS

Carnivorous plant ultricularia, similar to a voracious fish.

Aquatic mushroom floating on its "floating hat".

Salamander with symbiosis with algae, having a tail made of algae leaf.

Marimo grouped forming a giant vegetable monster.

Pitcher plant that spits water to catch insects instead of waiting.

Mangrove animal, its roots form long legs to walk in the water.

Aquatic snake covered in vegetation, looking like a hairy monster.

Water lettuce looking like a jellyfish floating on the surface of the water.

Vegetable kappa made from a gourd with water inside that gives it energy.

WATER/ELECTRIC

"Mermaid" created by shower water, creates electrical sound waves.

Bird with electrical powers and that manipulates rain.

Sea pig with a plug nose and that glows in the dark.

A neon-glowing discus fish with electric fins.

Luminous siphonophore resembling a chandelier.

Guitar fish vibrating the water with its electric sound.

Lantern fish guiding people on dark nights.

Electric seahorse in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Pikaclone water rat drawing energy from hydroelectric power.

WATER/ICE

Swordfish creating an ice sword with its snout.

Flying fish with crystalline, icy and fractal wings.

Fish trapped in a block of ice, as if they were in a can of sardines.

Water elemental, capable of changing to a solid state and freezing the opponent.

Caribou capable of freezing water with their hooves.

Snowman melting and dripping due to heat.

Fractal starfish, similar to a snowflake.

Fish gathering frozen water that forms a protective body of ice.

Snail blowing explosive frozen bubbles.

WATER/FLYING

Literal kite frog flying out of water.

Gliding starfish, flying through the wind like a shuriken.

Wind creature carrying wet clothes off a clothesline.

Sinister squid with fins resembling the wings of a bat.

Ribbon moray eel flying out of the water with Olympic acrobatics.

Predatory cloud that takes the form of sharks and orcas.

Oreole adapted to water, its feathers look like scales.

Scallop emerging from the water, with its shell serving as wings.

Sea moth with colorful wings that reflect light.

WATER/STEEL

Grouper looking like an armored submarine.

Water tap looking like a bird.

Gladiator retiarum using fishing skills to catch prey.

Megalopine squid looking like the warships of the worlds.

Mollusk using bivalve shells as claws or scissors.

Octopus living in a submerged trash can, collecting trash from the sea.

Lancet fish with bladed fins for cutting prey.

Tuna looking like an underwater missile.

Sailor struggling with anchors and underwater mines.

WATER/FIGHTING

Batfish walking with its muscular fins.

Sea lion looking like a powerful coliseum animal.

Damselfish attacking other fish that invade its algae garden.

Jellyfish striking with their tentacles like boxing gloves.

Elemental creature with muscular arms of water, the literal force of water.

Basilisk racing across the surface of the water.

Diving bird that does synchronized swimming.

Inflatable muscle lifeguard, also blows air in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Firefighter Dalmatian, with a long hose neck, rival of fire type pokémon.

WATER/ROCK

Trio of lumpsuckers stuck together by their suction cups.

Stone angel, like those that decorate fountains, holding a jug of water.

Marine iguana that is also a gargoyle that blows water.

Huge stonefish imitating a cave.

Gillman using a column from a sunken city as a weapon.

Winged stalactite that combines water attacks and its spiky body.

Laundress that uses stone and water in its attacks.

Rocky placo, able to "clean" the HP of plant types.

Elephant-like sea monster based on rock formations.

WATER/FIRE

Pipefish blowing smoke.

Fish blowing will-o'-the-wisp from its mouth.

Otter with explosive powers, throwing bombs at fish.

Frog releasing hot steam from its body through its holes on its back.

Gunard pistol blowing fire bubbles, his wings change color when attacking.

Volcanic crab with a crust of hardened lava over its body.

Whale blowing smoke from its blowhole, burning fat to keep warm from the cold.

Penguin in warm habitats, roasting the fish it catches.

Oyster hunting birds using a tasty and warm scent to catch them.

THE LEGENDARY:

Water/grass whale based on Noah's ark that sheltered many Pokémon in a flood.

We're done with the water type, see you next time.