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cozage · 4 months ago

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COZAGE PLEASE MAKE A PART TWO RESOLUTION TO YOUR MOST RECENT ANGST STARTS BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS GNAWING ON FURNITURE SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

A/N:FINE I’LL FIX THE ANGST HERE YOU GO (sorry if it sucks and has lots of typos I had COVID while writing this) Characters: f reader x Ace, Law, Shanks Cw: Cuteness :) Total word count: 3k

Disapproval Part 2

Part 1

Ace

It was a long time before you were alone again. You and William spent the rest of the day together, and he brought up your encounter with the pirates to everyone you ran into…minus the kiss he had seen. And every time the story was told and the people spoke of how dreadful they were, you hated this island and its people a little bit more.

Whitebeard and his crew protected your island from the horrors of the Grand Line. Whenever you needed aid, the Whitebeard pirates were the ones to answer. And yet behind their backs, the people on this island acted as if the pirates were the scum of the earth. Some people, like William’s family, said it to their faces.

You were pleasant through dinner. You smiled when stories were told. You spoke when you were asked a question. But your mind kept wandering back to Ace. To the pirates. They were really the only people you were ever excited to see, and the only ones who ever showed excitement at your arrival.

And it wasn’t just Ace. Everyone in his division was kind to you. On the rare occasion another division was sent in Ace’s place, the leaders always sought you out and delivered a message. You weren’t just another face in the crowd to them. You were a person.

When William finally bid you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, you retired quickly to your room. And once you were alone with your thoughts and all you had lost today, you couldn’t help the tears falling down your face. You weren’t even able to make it to your bed to muffle your sobs with a pillow before they began racking your body.

“Bit of a weird reaction to spending the day with your betrothed.”

You spun on your heels toward the voice. You could only see a silhouette, but you would know that voice anywhere.

“Ace-” your voice cracked as you spoke his name. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

He shrugged, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he stepped out from the shadows. “You always said you were going to move on if I kept leaving you behind.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Tears were already reforming in your eyes. Your chest ached for his touch again, but you resisted the urge to step closer to him.

“Do you love him?”

“He’s a good man. He’s kind and loyal and always looks out for me” You couldn’t look at him as you said it. It felt wrong speaking about William here. You didn’t want to think about him now.

Ace stepped toward you and reached out toward you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He held your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you love him?” he asked again.

“I-” You tried to avert your gaze, but he held your chin firmly, forcing you to look at him as you answered his question. “I think I could, given enough time.”

Pain flashed across his face again, but he quickly recovered. “Do you want that?”

“What?”

“Do you want to love him? To marry him?”

You weren’t sure of the answer. Especially with Ace here in front of you.

“I have to marry him,” you finally said. “My parents need me to do this.”

His eye twitched for a moment, and you could feel his hand warm against your cheek. “What do you need?”

“You.” The words were out of your mouth before you thought to change them.

That was all he needed to hear. His lips came crashing down onto yours, passionate and hungry. His warmth enveloped you like a summer’s day. You only wanted him. You would only ever be his. Nobody else mattered at this moment.

“Sail away with me,” he whispered, his fingers already tangled in your hair.

You simply hushed him in return, trying to find his lips again.

He indulged you with another kiss, this one longer and slower, as if he wanted to draw it out for as long as possible. As if he wanted to remember it.

This was a goodbye kiss.

“Ace-”

“Sail away with me,” he offered again, his lips caressing your jawline.

“You’re serious?” You resisted the urge to laugh. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“I’ll go if you want me to.” He kissed your neck once, then twice, slowly moving toward your shoulder as he spoke. “Just tell me to go and I will leave you to this life. I won’t interfere anymore.”

You whimpered in response. This couldn’t be the last time you ever saw him. You needed him as much as you needed air. Your heart waited for him on that cliff every day, praying he would come back whenever he could. The very whisper of the Whitebeard pirates returning could turn your whole day around.

“Or you can come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You could.” His lips pressed against your collarbones as he said the words.

You considered it. Being free on the ocean. The only thing to worry about was where you would go the next day. Having people around you who actually cared about you. Being with a crew loved you for who you were, not who they wanted you to be.

“Okay,” you sighed, already seeing your new life play out before you.

Ace grew deathly still, only his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Okay?”

You couldn’t look away from him. “I’ll go.”

He stared at you, refusing to believe it was so easy.

But your mind was already pushed into high gear, trying to think of everything you would have to do before you left. “My parents will never let me go, so we’ll have to sneak away. I’ll have to write them letters. And I’ll have to write a letter to William. And pack some of my belongings.”

You pulled away from him and moved to your closet, planning what to take and what to leave behind. You had a few bags you could pack. Between you and Ace, you were sure you could carry it all.

Ace stood in the center of your room, watching your whirlwind of preparation as you shoved things into bags and weighed the value of your items.

“Wait.” He finally said. His eyes had never left you.

You glanced over at him as you packed up a few shirts. He looked dreadfully pale, and your heart sank. The question he had asked was in the heat of the moment.

You froze, watching him closely. “You weren’t being sincere in your offer?”

“Of course I was!” He rushed to get the words out. “You really want to go?”

“I do.” You went back to packing.

“You’d leave everything behind? For what?”

You shrugged. “A life on the seas.”

“What changed?” He took a few steps toward you. “I’ve asked you every time, and the answer was always no. So what changed?”

He was going to make you say it. Of course he was. He had to hear it from your lips. Your actions weren’t enough.

You stopped folding your clothes and turned to him. “Because I love you, Ace. You absolute buffoon, I love you! And I was never at risk of losing you- truly losing you- until now. And I can’t bear the thought of you going away and never coming back. I can’t imagine a life where I marry William and live a perfectly normal life and die an unimportant death and I never see you again. Is that a good enough reason for you?”

He stared at you, shocked by your sudden outburst. It was all the things you wanted to say to him since the first time you saw him at the bar. And now it was out in the open, hanging between the two of you.

He rushed toward you, effortlessly scooping you into his arms and covering your face in kisses. When he finally put you down, you felt dizzy from the heat of his lips peppering your cheeks.

“What else needs to be packed?” He asked.

You gave him a few tasks and pulled some paper from a drawer. You had a lot of apologizing to do for those you were leaving behind.

A few hours later, in the dead of night, you walked hand in hand as you carried your belongings toward the pirate ship in the distance. The only thing that would remain of you on the island was two letters and an engagement ring.

Ace squeezed your hand. You could see his beaming smile against the moonlight. “You know,” he said softly. “I couldn’t live without you either.”

Law

You went to your room as soon as you got home. Your parents didn’t object, didn’t even ask if you wanted dinner. You weren’t hungry anyway.

You laid in bed, trying not to think of the day. You hated the way it had all turned out. The lack of freedom you had on this island due to your parents made you sick. You had no freedom here. No sense of self.

You weren’t sure when you dozed off, but you woke to a periodic tapping on your window. For a moment, you were too scared to get out of bed. It could be anything or anyone. But after a few more taps on the window, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Besides, you were on the second story. Nobody could get you from outside your window. So you got up and peeked outside.

Trafalgar Law was standing under your window. His golden eyes glimmered in the light of the full moon as they locked onto you.

There was a moment of weightlessness, and then your bare feet slammed against the cobblestone path. You let out a yelp of surprise, but Law’s hands were around your mouth to muffle the sound.

“Sorry,” he said. “I figured this would be faster than you trying to sneak out.”

“What the hell did you do?!” You looked back at your bedroom window, confused about how you had gotten here so fast. You were still in your pajamas and barefoot. Hardly the way you wanted Trafalgar Law to see you.

He scratched the back of his head as if it had just dawned on him that his actions might not be the best approach. “It’s, uh, my devil fruit ability.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Can you put me back?”

“Do you want to go back?”

You scoffed. “I’d like some shoes, at the very least. And proper clothes.”

In the moonlight, you could see his cheeks pinken. “Right,” he said quickly. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Another weightless moment and you were back in your room. You had been expecting it this time and resisted the urge to let out another shout. You didn’t want to alert your parents to your movements or the individual outside.

You wanted to do more than simply change clothes and put on shoes, but you didn’t want to keep Law waiting. You weren’t even sure how much time you would have with him as it was.

Once you were as ready as you could be, you gave the window a little tap to alert him, and then gave him a thumbs up.

A moment later, you were standing next to him. His hand instinctively went out and helped steady you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” you said breathlessly.

Law gave a smirk. “You’d be surprised.”

The two of you walked in silence for a while, waiting until you were out of sight from the house before you dared to speak.

“Where are we going?” you finally asked.

“I had bigger plans for us, but the beach will do for tonight.” Law jerked his head down a side path through the forest.

It was a path you knew well. It led to a small private alcove. Nobody would find you there. Especially at this time of night.

“This is my favorite place on this island,” he said softly, leading you to a large blanket lying on the sand. “The view of the stars with the sound of the waves is unmatched. I always come here when I need to think. It’s the most peaceful place on the Grand Line.”

You snorted at his remark, looking up at the sky. “Surely there’s better places out there.”

“But this is my favorite.”

“I dunno why,” you grumbled. “People here give you no respect. You’ve helped these people more than they can count and they still refuse to treat you well.”

Law hummed in agreement at that. He couldn’t deny that the islanders weren’t always kind to him. “You speak as though you’re not one of them.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

Law’s eyes flicked over, studying you closely. “What do you mean?”

“I just wish I had more.” You turned to look at him. “There’s a whole world out there and I’m stuck in a sandwich shop.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “You don’t have to be.”

“I have nowhere to go and no one to go with. I’m stuck.”

His eyes returned to the sky, not saying anything. The two of you were quiet for a long while, staring at the sky lost in thought. It was the perfect night out, between the soft warm breeze and the waves crashing against the shore. You could feel your eyelids starting to close, lulling you back to sleep.

“You could come with me.” Law’s voice jolted you awake, and for a second you thought you were dreaming.

“What?”

His eyes were still on the stars. “My crew. You could join us and sail. We could go anywhere you wanted.”

You sat up, staring at him intensely. “You’re serious?”

He gave a nod in return.

“I want to,” you said. “I will. I’ll go with you.”

“We leave tomorrow.”

“I can’t leave tomorrow,” you frowned, shaking your head. There was too much to do to prepare. You couldn’t just vanish. “But…ask me again next time you’re here.”

He gave a nod of understanding. “I’ll be back in a week.”

You broke out in a smile, your mind already turning with possibilities and dreams. “I’ll be ready then.”

One more week, and then you would be with Law. One more week, and then you would be a Heart Pirate.

Shanks

The next morning you left the house before your parents were down for breakfast. You didn’t want to face them after dinner last night. You didn’t want to think about what they had said to you, how Shanks had been with another woman.

You wanted to be out of the house and distracted from your thoughts, so you took off early to make it to campus and study before class. You tried to think about anything other than that red-haired pirate. You had exams and projects coming up. Going over the concepts you researched and studied for, you walked right into another person.

“A bit distracted, love?” You didn’t have to look up to know who was speaking. Out of all the places he could’ve been on this island, he had to be on this path.

You took a quick step back and nervously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Hey Shanks. Sorry about that.”

His brow furrowed at your formality. “Everything okay?”

“Just on the way to class.” You tried your best to smile. “Busy day.”

“I’ve been trying to catch you since we got here. I’ve missed you.” He reached out to grab you, but you stepped out of his reach.

“It was good to see you.” You gave a quick look around, hoping nobody was watching you. “I don’t want to be late for class.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Your class doesn’t start for another two hours.”

Shit. You had told him that the last time he visited. His mind was too keen to forget small details like that.

His hand reached out again, this time grabbing your wrist. “What’s going on?”

“Please Shanks,” you tried to pull away, but he held firm. “Let me go.”

“What is this cold shoulder business? Did I do something to make you upset? This can’t be over-”

“Why don’t you ask that girl you were with at the market?” You don’t know what possessed you to do it, but you spat out the words to him.

Shanks visibly recoiled from your words, pure confusion on his face.

Confusion. Not guilt. Not shame. He had no idea what you were talking about.

“My mother lied to me,” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. “Oh god, Shanks. I'm so-”

He pulled you into his chest, clasping his arms tightly around you. “Shhh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I should’ve found you sooner. I’m sorry.”

You buried your face in his chest, ashamed. “I believed them. Why did I believe them?”

“It’s okay.” He smoothed your hair as he held you. “We figured it out in the end, right?”

“I can’t stay here. We need to leave.” You pulled back, looking at him.

He only gave a light laugh, unsure of what you meant.

But that only made you more determined. “I’m serious, Shanks. I can’t stay here anymore. It’s suffocating. I’m dying here. I need life. I need adventure. I need you.”

The smallest spark of light gleaned in his eyes. “You want to sail? With me?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be a pirate. An outlaw, wanted by the government. You’ll be-”

“I’ll be with you,” you said, cutting him off. “The only one who has ever made me feel like I am my own person. I’ll be with you. I don’t care about the rest.”

He broke into a grin. “You’re serious?”

You stood on the tips of your toes and leaned forward to kiss him. “I’m serious. When can we go?”

“As soon as you want to.”

The excitement of living flooded into your veins. “Now.”

The two of you took off toward the docks hand in hand. And you felt more at peace looking into the unknown than you had in your entire life.

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queer-crip-grows · 5 months ago

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It is incredibly difficult to hear so many people in the environmental movement continually lionise trains as the answer to all transport needs.

Being a full time mobility aid user with chronic fatigue and sensory overload makes use of public transport nightmarish.

If *real* efforts were made to make every train and every station fully wheelchair-accessible, *without* having to rely on unreliable or downright abusive station staff to put ramps up and, down, it would be a fantastic *start*. On good days, I *might* be able to use it for certain kinds of journeys.

However, it still wouldn’t solve the issues with sensory overload, or the problems getting to train stations from my home due to severe chronic pain and chronic fatigue.

If overdo it when I’m out, I *crash*. I cannot expend all my resources getting places. I then cannot do anything when I am there, and am unable to get home safely.

This is not that uncommon a problem. My issues are due to hEDS, POTS and autism, but they are incredibly common symptoms of Long COVID and ME/CFS resulting from Long COVID. So, unsurprisingly, folk with these needs are becoming increasingly common as Covid continues to rampage through the population. *Some of us need transportation we have control over*, and we need environmentally sustainable options to do this.

While expanding the public rail network, making it completely affordable (or, realistically, free) and making it fully accessible for wheelchair and other mobility aid users, children travelling alone from about age 8, elderly people with limited eyesight and hearing and parents travelling with infants would be an *incredible* start and massively increase usage of public transport, there are those of us who will always need at least part-time access to vehicles which can come to our homes and that *we* have control over, that are just as affordable as public transport, and the environmental movement needs to acknowledge this, plan for it, and stop treating it as selfishness, laziness and all the other “fun” terms disabled folk face constantly just for trying to live, especially outside our homes.

This is going to be even more the case if you want us to be able to work outside our homes and if you continue to be resistant to providing fully remote jobs that pay a living wage.

#a queer crip grows #trains #public transportation #disableism #systemic disableism #inaccessibility #inaccessible public transport #disability #sustainability #heds #pots syndrome #autistic adult #inclusive environmentalism #long covid #me cfs #mobility aid user #wheelchair users

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cosmiclasagna · 5 months ago

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i had it twice and only had a fever the second time, and it got up pretty high actually but thankfully i didnt wind up with any lasting issues from either time, and my heart goes out to those who did 🫶🏻

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#i constantly felt like i had morning breath? was brishing my teeth like 3 times a day #my whole body ached a lot and i was generally uncomfortable most of the time #my throat also was pretty painful even when drinkig water and especially when eating #i didnt really have much of an appetite and it was pretty 50/50 on wether or not itd make me feel sick #never threw up tho🤷🏻#i also had headaches a lot and it kinda just felt like my brain hurt?#i was also sneezing like every 2 seconds and somehow that was the most annoying part i think #covid #covid 19 #long covid #covid symptoms #covid stories #my experience with covid🤩

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copperbadge · 7 months ago

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I was making breakfast and listening to an episode of Just King Things this morning, which is a podcast I do recommend -- two very smart English teachers are reading the books of Stephen King in publication order and discussing them. This could go extremely awry except they're both highly conscious of his failings as well as his skill, so they do really well handling a lot of his less salutatory content.

They've hit the point in King's ouvre (this episode was about Hearts In Atlantis) that follows his recovery from the car accident that very nearly killed him, where he was struck by a van while out walking. One of them pointed out that it seems as though he came back from nearly dying determined to write the wildest shit imaginable and only write what he wanted, which struck a chord in me this time despite having listened to this episode before. Perhaps because I was thinking about my own writing and where it's going in the short term (there are a couple of short stories I want to do that I don't quite have a way into yet). I generally don't think about the drift of my creativity in the long term because when I do I usually draw the wrong conclusions.

I don't really classify my life, the way some people who've had high-impact injuries do, as before-TBI and after-TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury -- the fairly severe concussion I had in January of 2020). For one thing, given I had to cancel a trip to NYC because of it, it may have saved my life; I almost certainly would have caught COVID as someone with known lung issues in New York at the time. For another, the TBI was way scarier to almost everyone else; for me it was just one more dumb injury I gave myself and I didn't even remember most of it so it hardly registered. I used to open the story of it with a joke about waking up not remembering going to bed the night before, but nobody ever found it funny.

It's true that there are changes it wrought in my life, though. Even practical stuff like making sure my living space doesn't have tripping hazards and continuing to wear a fitbit even though I don't really need to (the fitbit told us, the morning after, exactly when the concussion happened, because it registered a heart-rate spike when I fell). For weeks after, I had to move slowly and put off making important decisions because I couldn't trust my physical or intellectual judgement; I didn't even jaywalk in my own neighborhood because I couldn't be sure I was judging the cars' speeds properly. For about a year after I had periodic post-concussion syndrome which basically just slammed me back into concussion space, which wasn't painful or upsetting but was definitely inconvenient.

And it's also undeniable that my writing shifted after the injury. It's not necessarily because of the injury, since my initial recovery from the TBI and the declaration of quarantine happened at roughly the same time, and anyone who tells you that a years-long global pandemic didn't impact their artistic expression is selling you a line. But the last thing I wrote before the TBI was the first draft of Six Harvests, and aside from the Six Harvests publication draft, which had fairly minimal changes, almost all that I've written has been blue-sky, light-hearted, PG-rated romance. It's been on my mind that I've been writing different subject matter from what I used to, but the timing of it didn't strike me until just recently.

I don't mind, really. I love fandom and I support fanfic in whatever expression it comes, but I'm also happy writing my own stories. While I'm aware it's been years since I've meaningfully written fanfic, it doesn't bother me per se, as long as I'm writing. It bothered me much more when I could write fanfic but not original fic, especially in those last few awful months at my last job. I'm proud of the literary and non-genre fiction I've written in the past, but it's also much more trying and frustrating to write at times, so I'm enjoying having a different sort of challenge that feels more fulfilling in the process. I'm sure at some point I'll go back to literary fiction -- there are ways in which it's hard to avoid turning the later Shivadh novels into literary fiction, being honest -- but for now I like what I'm writing, and I'm writing primarily to please myself and without regard to what's necessarily rational or linear.

Just struck me, is all, that it's by far the most noticeable major shift in my work. I do sort of wonder what will be next.

#writing #sam writes

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 5 months ago

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Hello, so maybe I’m misunderstanding something based on the bits and pieces I know about ethics and philosophy :what kinds of things constitute as morally good? You said and someone else said health is morally neutral. Which I get the individual part but wanting for others to be educated and healthy I thought * would be examples of moral goodness?¿ Help me to see more pf your point if you are willing

okay, let's talk about education and health.

those are both really big factors in a lot of people's lives, and of course it's good when people have access to opportunities for education and healthcare. I'm not arguing against that at all.

but there is no component of morality to people's level of education or health. attending college, for instance, does not make someone a better person than someone who dropped out of high school. a person with a college degree is likely to have access to better-paying jobs and impact their quality of life, sure, and higher education is desirable to many people because of that; totally understandable. but that's completely different from what I'm talking about, which is whether or not being educated is innately virtuous, which it's not. at an early age, especially, education is something that happens mostly at random, determined primarily by the opportunities available to the family someone is born into.

health is something that is moralized RELENTLESSLY, especially in American culture. many fat activists talk at length about how fatness is seen as a failure of both health and morality - the assumption being that a.) fat people are innately unhealthy and b.) a responsible person would make an effort not to be fat and therefore not to be unhealthy - and that's only one particularly visible example. think about the tendency, for instance, to suggest that people who die of COVID must deserve it based on assumptions made about their masking/vaccine status, as if thousands of people who took every possible precaution didn't also die. in my field, sex education, there's also a TERRIBLE tendency to stigmatize people with sexually transmitted infections and treat them as dangerous, irresponsible, and undeserving of sex of physical intimacy, the most prominent example being the AIDS epidemic during which many people very literally believed that the epidemic was a divine punishment for the "sin" of homosexuality.

of course, health has nothing to do with morality. terrible people live long and healthy lives, the kindest and most selfless people you'll ever meet die in agonizing pain from preventable diseases. similarly to education, it's largely determined by social position.

similarly, activities considered "healthy" carry no moral weight. if you want to eat your veggies or run marathons or never smoke a day in your life, awesome! that's great for you! and I'm right there with you, I love veggies and yoga and rock climbing and all kinds of activities, and I myself don't smoke. but nothing about any of those activities are like, divinely virtuous and make you a certifiable better person than someone who never exercises and lives on cheese and weed. that person is equally allowed to do that and is not an inferior person for choosing that path for their life.

again, healthcare and education are important to many people's quality of life, but they're human rights, not moral measurements.

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cannabiscomrade · 1 year ago

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It's Gastroparesis Awareness Month

Hi! I have gastroparesis and I'm an insufferable know-it-all so let's talk about it!

Gastroparesis, or a paralyzed stomach, is a condition that causes delayed gastric emptying.

This can cause a range of symptoms and complications:

nausea

vomiting

early satiety/fullness

upper gastric pain

heartburn

malabsorption

dehydration

malnutrition

Gastroparesis can be treated by a gastroenterologist, but often needs to be managed by a motility specialist due to a lot of misconceptions about the condition. Providers, especially in the emergency department, will commonly misdiagnose gastroparesis as cannabis-hyperemesis syndome, cyclic vomiting syndrome, gastritis, food poisoning, etc.

There are several commonly known causes of gastroparesis like vagus nerve damage from diabetes, injury to the stomach, and stomach surgery like hernia repair or bariatric surgery. There are also idiopathic cases with no known cause. Other causes of gastroparesis are:

Connective tissue disorders like HSD and EDS (commonly hEDS and cEDS)

Post-viral (like COVID, viral gastritis, mononucleosis/Epstein-Barr)

Restrictive eating disorders

Autoimmune diseases like Systemic sclerosis (scleroderma), Lupus, Hashimoto's

Central nervous system disorders

Gastroparesis also has common comorbidities with conditions like:

POTS and other forms of dysautonomia (POTS, EDS, and gastroparesis are a common triad of diagnoses)

MCAS

SMAS (which can also present with similar symptoms to GP)

Intestinal dysmotility and esophageal dysmotility disorders (known as global dysmotility)

PCOS with insulin resistance

Endometriosis

SIBO/SIFO

Chronic intestinal pseudo-obstruction

Migraines

Certain medications like Ozempic and other drugs in that class act on the digestive system to delay gastric emptying, which has caused people to be diagnosed with gastroparesis. Some people report that their cases have not gone away since stopping the medication, others report feeling better after stopping. Other drugs like opiates and narcotics can cause delayed gastric and intestinal motility as well, but these are commonly known side effects of those painkiller classes.

Gastroparesis is classed based on severity and graded based on how you respond to treatment.

Severity of delay ranges from mild to very severe, and this is based on your actual stomach retention calculated at 4 hours into a gastric emptying study.

The grading scale ranges from one to three, one being mild and three being gastric failure.

There is no consistent single treatment that is proven to work for gastroparesis, and there is no cure. Treatments can consist of:

Diet changes (3 Step Gastroparesis Diet, liquid diet, oral sole source nutrition)

Prokinetic (motility stimulating) drugs

Anti-nausea medications

Proton-pump inhibitors

Gastric stimulator/gastric pacemaker

Pyloric botox and dilation

G-POEM/pyloroplasty

Post-pyloric tube feeding

Gastric venting/draining

Parenteral nutrition

IV fluids

Other surgical interventions like gastrectomy or rarely, transplant

Gastroparesis is a terrible disease and I hope that if any of these symptoms resonate with you that you can get checked out. I was misdiagnosed for a long time before getting a proper gastroparesis diagnosis, and all it took was a gastric emptying study. This is ESPECIALLY true if you're having post-COVID gastrointestinal problems that are not improving. I almost died from starvation ketoacidosis because of how serious my GP got in a short period of time post-COVID (I had GP before COVID), and now I'm tube reliant for all my nutrition and hydration.

Stay safe friends!

#gastroparesis #disability tag

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counterintuitivecomics · 3 months ago

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Some colorized bits from my recent free printable zine WHY WE MASK: It's Not "Just A Cold"! I purposefully made the whole thing b&w to make printing as cheap as possible, but it's fun to add color especially to the snot-splosions.

HEY COMICS FRIENDS going to SPX or other cons this weekend - MASK UP, EAT OUTDOORS, and REST if you start feeling run down. COVID-19 levels are BAD bad right now (it's currently the worst September out of the whole pandemic) and the government does not have our backs. This virus causes YEARS worth of horrible vascular, neurological, and immune system damage, and each infection raises your chances of gaining fun new disabilities that could prevent you ever making comics again.

I strongly advice cancelling festivals, cons, indoor dining, anything involving crowds indoors OR outdoors, etc. But I know people depend on income from cons, so: PACK MASKS, NASAL SPRAY, and CPC MOUTHWASH and actually use them! If you develop any COVID-19 symptoms (headaches, dizziness, nausea, stomach pain, diarrhea, sore throat, sore joints, etc) don't assume it's "just a cold". Stay in your dang hotel room and REST! You can TRY to "push through" to keep tabling but you are NOT gonna like the long-term results (aka Long COVID).

I care about all you comics people and I want you to enjoy many more decades of making and sharing and reading comics with each other. If you're feeling sick at a show this weekend and don't know what to do, drop me a line! No judgements. Take care of yourself and each other out there and remember, no one can rest your body for you but you.

(Image Descriptions are in the Alt Text. Also please feel free to print my zine and hand it out if you do go)co

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fletchingbrilliant · 3 months ago

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🌙some wildly cheap commissions!🌙

🙃 for some even wilder reasons 🙃

hey y'all. long post thingie but it's got cute pictures so please check it out

TRANSCRIPT OF POST

hey frens got something kinda somber to talk about. most of you are very aware of the existence of my beautiful fiance and co-creator of basically everything i do. zae and i are getting handfasted (marriage for pagans) in october, and have been living together for about 10 years. in 2021, zae got really fucking sick, and after a few false starts, was diagnosed with a rare for of vasculitis called granulomatosis with polyangiitis, GPA for short. it’s an autoimmune disease that causes inflammation in blood vessels and other tissues, ultimately stopping blood from getting to the parts of the body that need it, affecting many areas, but primarily the respiratory system. while the cause isn’t known, it usually presents in people in their 50’s or 60’s, but complications from a third bout of covid-19 appears to have made it emerge way earlier for our boy. at least, that’s what we think. his case is extremely aggressive, advancing faster than anyone could have expected. in zae’s case, it actually attacked his kidneys first, and then went after his lungs, causing both to threaten shutting down for good. he was extremely anemic and needed a ton of transfusions, narrowly avoiding dialysis, and we spent weeks in the hospital keeping him alive. he was placed on two different kinds of chemotherapy to combat the disorder. he lost his hair, went through even more fatigue and pain on top of what the disease had already put him through, and had to accept a plethora of changes to his life that will last forever. a lot of you out there have harrowing experiences of your own when it comes to chronic and potentially terminal conditions, too, I’m certain. “it’s not fun” is an understatement. though there were a couple of really fucking close calls, zae’s GPA went into remission. his hair grew back fuller and more luscious than it had ever been before. (i later learned these are affectionately referred to as “chemo curls.”) remission for gpa is usually expected to last at least 5 years, potentially up to 20, before any symptoms resurface. but zae’s case was particularly aggressive, so of course he’s not so lucky. he’s relapsing now. his symptoms have been slowly returning, and it’s been decided that he’s going back on chemo. it’s no surprise that this shit is expensive, even with insurance. we’re still paying off the care he received last time because ‘murca. being disabled myself, work has been… let’s call it inconsistent, yeah? yeah, that’s a nice and comfortable thing to call it. no one’s doing well financially these days, so we of course have to get creative. long story short(er), i’m doing a commission special! for the next MONTH, i am offering fast commissions at crazy-low prices to try and help us create a cushion to keep us afloat and relatively comfortable while we begin the chemo process again. there’s several options for a variety of budgets, because i really hate the idea of seeking something for nothing, and i absolutely abhor having to reach out in this way. it makes me feel vulnerable and icky and… i’m sure you all understand that, too. i can’t thank you all enough just for following me, and engaging with mine and zae’s work. it may sound trite, but that really makes a difference to us, especially when we’re dealing with something so painful. so if you can’t or don’t want to partake of the sale, please know that you are still a huge help to us, and we seriously appreciate each and every one of you. like, so fucking much. thanks y’all love, fletch

END TRANSCRIPT

Commission Options:

Flash Sketches: $5USD/character

Comics: $5USD/panel - flat color

Comics: $10USD/panel - shaded color

Screenshot Redraws - $15USD/character (complex bgs, add $20)

all of this is posted with @zaebeecee's knowledge and blessing

please DM me if you're interested in something, and thank you again

more Hungry Games, fic fanart, and Persona stuff coming soon too

#my art #art commissions #personal stuff #fanart #fanart commissions #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #kingdom hearts #stardew valley #hazbin hotel fanart #helluva boss fanart #kingdom hearts fanart #stardew valley fanart #please share

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carmyberzattosjournal · 1 month ago

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Entry 13: Grand Canyons of Scars

GIF by @mithrandirl

Bearblr Promptober Day 13: Hot Cocoa + Baking

Summary: In which Carmen has the worst panic attack of his life.

Warnings: Panic attack, swearing, trouble breathing, vomiting, pain, Carmy feels like he's dying, The Devil (Chef David) makes an appearance, written with fem reader who is a trauma surgeon in mind, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

This is a two-parter. Second part here.

Reblogs and comments appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

13 Oct 2024

I’m glad I had the panic attack in the park before the one I had at home. Because if I had the one at home first, I’m fairly certain Darling wouldn’t’ve looked at me the same again.

The Devil was a food critic now. Should’ve been a downgrade from being one of the best chefs in the world, but jokes on all of us miserable fucks, he was making a fuckton of money without having to step foot in another sweltering, loud, stressful kitchen again. Not that he felt stress. He didn’t feel anything.

He wasn’t a fucking human.

You know how if there is a God, he’s out for my blood, right? Well, I have proof of that now. Exhibit A: I find out this information while chopping chocolate for hot cocoa at my apartment—aside: fuck landlords, it took him a month to fix my range, and the radiator in the bedroom still won’t fucking work—and what comes on during the ad break of the baking show I have running in the background so the place isn’t painfully quiet while I’m waiting on Darling to come up from the parking lot after a long shift?

Aside 2: She was at the hospital for 19 fucking hours, you piece of shit. You fucking deadbeat. That’s the day you did this to her.

“Part of the reason we’re seeing so many restaurants close down, especially after the COVID-19 pandemic, is because of the social culture around dining out changing,” Chef David said.

If I had any control of my body, I would’ve kept my eyes off the T.V., ran over to the remote, and changed the channel or turned it off. That’s it. It sounds so fucking simple when I write this down, but that’s not how it went. It’s not how it’s ever going to go because The Devil left gouges, chasms in my psyche, Grand Canyons of scars that I put shitty fucking rope bridges over and that I could never—and I can never, I know this—fill in. No, I froze. I froze like The Devil’s breath was fanning out over the back of my neck, and the plates were moving too slowly, and I repeated ingredients again, and I should’ve been dead I should’ve been dead I should’ve—

One of the weirdest consequences of working for The Devil was that I could remember every single word he said to me. It was paramount that I did. He spat venom at me if I missed anything he said the first time. Every little thing—down to his fucking hatred of fucking black pepper—I memorized it. I knew that tilt of his head when he sensed an excuse, that eyebrow twitch when he expected a verbal answer, the furrow that formed and dissipated in the blink of an eye when he decided something had too much in it and needed to be stripped further. He walked differently when he was going to berate me. His cadence was different when I fucked up versus when I insulted humanity for existing.

So, as I stood, a marble carving in the kitchen, knife hovering over a chunk of Valrhona 55% dark chocolate already half-shredded into flakes, all I could do was watch the white reflection coming off the blade tremble more and more, all I could do was absorb every. Single. Word. The Devil said, as the voice in my head screamed at my body to move. To do something. To make the voice stop. As I tried to fight through the noise to tell myself it wasn’t real and that it was a dream, and I couldn’t be back in New York, Darling wasn’t in New York, and I couldn’t’ve imagined her this vividly.

“… with the rise… like Uber Eats and Doordash, people are just not finding it necessary to go out to dining halls and enjoy meals. They can get a lot of the food they tend to want to eat at home on their own time without having to brace the discomforts of social expectations. This has, obviously, caused problems in the mid-to-fine dining world, where that social expectation of a dining experience is primarily what drives people in the door rather than the food itself being of some specific quality.”

Like a bolt of lightning, a searing pain erupted in my chest. The knife clattered and slid off the cutting board, off the counter, and rang as it bounced off the tile floor. I grabbed at my chest, at the thing causing the pain, as if to remove it, as if I’d find a knife there butchering me as I stood, but all I grasped was the front of my apron.

“So do you think this will change how restaurants are being run?”

“Absolutely,” The Devil said. “I think in order to survive this change in society, restaurants need to adapt to the social changes we’re seeing.”

The pain worsened and deepened and sunk into the pit of my stomach. And I tore my apron off and clawed at my shirt, trying to chase down the hands under it, under my skin, under my ribs, the ones twisting my insides around their fists.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Noma has announced that it will be closing its dining hall after the service season in 2024 and opening an option more catered to people who want to be able to take the food to-go. There needs to be a shift in the industry that corresponds to the shift in the culture.”

My knees buckled, pain exploded elsewhere—I couldn’t even tell where, it all hurt. Everything hurt. World dimmed. Noise of some kind? Was that a voice? Was that The Devil’s voice?

“Carmy? Carmy!”

I couldn’t breathe. A roaring sound. Lights in my view.

Dark again. Cold. Cold on my face. Something jostled me.

“CARMEN, BREATHE!”

I can’t, sweetheart.

The Devil finally killed me.

Tell Sugar I’m sorry.

Tell ma I love her.

Piercing cold on my chest. Light. Dark. Light. Bile. I coughed and spluttered, gasped in air.

“There you go. Cough. Keep coughing.”

Pressure on my back. Light. It kept moving.

“Breathe... Breathe.” Darling sniffled, drew in a shaking breath. “In and out, slowly, all the way... You’re okay... It’s gonna be okay.”

Kitchen floor, on my side, knife and pool of vomit in view. And the stench of bile and random noise from the T.V. and freezing cold on my chest. A hand rubbing up and down my spine. Darling sniffled again. Took a deep breath.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

I could. Fuck if I could respond, though.

“Carmy, baby, are you here?” something touched my hand. “Can you squeeze if you can hear me? I’m gonna have to call for an ambulance if you’re not—”

I crushed her fingers in my grip. Fuck no. No hospitals.

“Okay.” The cold sensation on my chest left, and in its wake was numbness and, weirdly, burning. The kind that made my face hurt when walking to the restaurant in the winter.

I’d just had the most brutal panic attack of my life. And this poor fucking woman—she got back from 19 fucking hours at the hospital and had to clean up that mess and me and the cut on my arm from falling on the knife. I kept wanting to help—I knew it was my fucking mess—but I couldn’t tell which way was up or down or if I was awake or asleep or what day or year it was. And I hadn’t been properly sick in a long time, but I remembered what a high fever felt like—and this felt like the highest fever of my pathetic existence. I don’t know when the T.V. turned off, but at some point, I noticed how quiet it was.

How did I end up on the couch wrapped in a blanket?

She joined me there. In her pajamas, hair up. Brought two mugs and set them on the coffee table.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered. Pulled her sleeve over her hand and patted my cheek—since when do I cry? “Do you know where you are? What happened?”

It took me a thousand years to respond.

“Panic attack?” I didn’t mean for it to come out as a strangled whisper, but I could’ve swallowed glass, my throat hurt so bad.

Oh.

That roaring sound I heard was my own screaming.

She nodded. Her eyeliner was smudged into a haze around her eyes. “Yeah. Panic attack. But it’s over now. We’re gonna try to recover, but then we need to talk about this, okay?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I can recall now what she said, but at the time, I couldn’t understand her. The words came to me jumbled.

“Is it okay if I hold you?”

I saw that she was holding an arm out for me. I scooted towards her and hid my face in the crook of her neck. Collapsed into her scent, her softness, her warmth. I crushed a fistful of her pajama top in my hand and squeezed her like she’d disappear if I let go. She peppered kisses all over my forehead and my hairline while she sipped her hot chocolate. Murmured little comforting things to me. She kept feeling the temperature of the second mug, and, after a while, brought it first to her lips to test the temperature, then to mine for me to taste. It had coffee notes, curtesy of the type of chocolate I used, and was rich and velvety without being overly sweet.

“That feel doable, sweetheart?”

Not exactly, but I’d troubled her so much by freaking the fuck out that I sat up and took the mug. Kept sipping it. Let it wash down the pain in my throat.

“’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Panic attacks are not your fault, baby.”

“No, but I… I should’ve…” heat in my face. “I should’ve gotten help f-for them—”

She placed a hand on my leg. “Sweetheart, I want you to try to stay calm, okay? Just let yourself recover. I promise, we’ll talk about this and figure it out, but right this moment, you need to let yourself calm back down.”

I nodded.

(To Be Continued)

#cb journal #bearblrpromptober #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto fluff

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hoosurdaddy · 2 years ago

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Post Covid!Kenny NSFW headcannons.

Pairing: Kenny McCormick x Reader.

Triggers: 18+, smut all over. Smut throughout. Pt2??

NOTE!!!: I can’t find a gif of Kenny during post covid therefore I am using @.SPFKymanCartyle on Twitter. This is THEIR work and THEIR design. All credit goes to them. Their work is incredible I would 100% recommend checking it out. Once again, the picture of Kenny is NOT MINE, it is @.SPFKymanCartyle on Twitter.

NSFW Headcannons:

* Kenny for real, has a size kink and loves manhandling you and throwing you into every position he can. However, he only does that when he’s 100% sure he won’t hurt you. Kenny will literally be fucking you against the wall then throw you onto the bed.

* Kenny adores you. He would 100% body worship you in every single way. Kenny is so grateful for you and he wouldn’t be satisfied if he didn’t allow himself to indulge in you fully.

* If you’ve long hair, Kenny loves pulling your hair into a ponytail and guiding your mouth up and down his cock. He loves stroking your hair all the while he controls how long he wants to last. If not, Kenny would adore fucking your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. Ughh, imagine his moans as he fucks your mouth. Kenny could of died happily when he came home from a stressful day of work to see you, naked, with your mouth opened and on your knees, ready for your mouth to be fucked.

* “That’s my girl.” Kenny smirked as he pulled your hair into a makeshift pony. “How did I get so lucky??”

* Kenny has nicknames for you, but his favourite is “baby girl” 🤍

* “You like my big cock inside you, baby girl?”

* I feel like Kenny isn’t really into Dom/sub, however, I think Kenny is more on the Dom side of things?? Like idk how to describe it. Anyways, Kenny has a need to protect and pleasure you. It’s his pussy and he’ll do what he wants. 🤷‍♀️

* Kenny is the furthers thing from a gentleman, he will leave marks everywhere and anywhere you want him too (well where he wants) especially in the heat of the moment, Kenny will leave dark bruises all down your neck, breasts, thighs, hips, ass, etc. good luck wearing shorts or skirts during the summer.

* Tends to grunt rather than moan but hearing him saying your name in his deep voice is just chef kiss.

* Loves loves love doggy style. Kenny loves looking at your ass as he fucks you from behind. He loves pulling you back onto him, holding you there for a few seconds before going back to thrusting and repeating.

* Also really really really loves you riding him. Kenny would have one had holding your ass and another going between your tits. He enjoys thinking you have control but he would easily flip you over in two seconds.

* I feel like Kenny has a bit of a dumbification kink?? Idk why. But since Kenny has all this money, and is buying you nice clothes, he enjoys the thought of you dressing like a complete slut for him and pretending to be stupid when he asks you a simple question. Kenny takes pride in his smart girl but sometimes he’s needs to fuck his smart girl dumb.

* I feel aswell that Kenny might have a breeding kink but doesn’t want kids (just yet??). Idk I’m a bit iffy on this. But he would finger his cum back into you to be safe ✌️🤍

—

“Oh fuck! Kenny.” You whined as his hips thrusted up to meet yours as you rode him. You throw your head back, bouncing up and down to meet him. Between the pain of the overstimulation and pleasure, you knew Kenny wasn’t letting up just yet.

“Kenny! I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, and Kenny began thrusting into your cunt harder. Your cunt clenched around Kenny’s cock, despite the burning in your legs and tummy from bouncing on Kenny’s cock, you swear you were to explode.

Kenny grunted before spilling into you, and continued to fuck you through your high as your moans and whines of your orgasm got louder before you plopped down ontop of Kenny, panting, him still inside you. The two of you laid there for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth that radiated from eachothers bodies. It wasn’t long until you felt Kenny getting hard once again along with the burning kisses he left on your neck, you knew you were in for a long night.

#post covid!south park #post covid!Kenny McCormick x reader #post covid!Kenny McCormick #post covid!Kenny McCormick smut #South Park x reader #south park imagines #kenny mccormick #kenny McCormick x reader

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