#high gear health

[highgearhealth]

Best Daily Spplements for Men

High Gear Health is your one-stop solution for high quality Fitness Supplements. Buy the best daily supplements for men to help you achieve and maintain your High Gear.

[la-galaxie-langblr]

what is going on w my brain

[quirkle2]

oh nooo that's quite a bummer :( but i'm very glad that i helped brightening up your day :") tbh your writing brightens up my day too (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

AND WAIT I'VE BEEN ACTUALLY QUITE THINKING ABOUT WHETHER ZOMBIE MOB HAS FOUGHT OFF A ZOMBIE WHEN I ASKED IF HE HAS EVER BITTEN SOMEONE and since you brought it up, well, would be okay to ask about the details of how it went 👁️👁️ (also him fighting off a fellow zombie to protect tome got me sobbing)

- 🪻

aww im glad my silly little words brighten ur day!! ur so sweet :]

and yes, it went horribly <3! tome prolly wasn't paying attention as closely as she should've been and got herself surrounded by a crowd. to be clear, that's not Always dangerous, since zombies arent like,, after ur brains in this constantly. but these zombies did look quite hungry, and human or not, she looked like a good meal,,

she had wandered off a bit from mob n ritsu, but mob heard the commotion first. tome has a big fucking baseball bat in this au that she likes to swing around, but a baseball bat can only get u so far in terms of self defense. she thins the horde but there's simply too many of them

mob lets exactly One zombie grab her and yank her toward them before he goes ballistic

watching zombies fight is a lot closer to watching wild animals fight than anything else, and it gets quite horrid sometimes. since their bites aren't rly "dangerous" to each other beyond the typical Oh No a Chunk of Flesh is Gone (not even painful for them, since their nerves r.. less than functional), the fight is a lot more close up and gruesome than a fight against a zombie and a human would be. humans usually back away from zombies immediately and try not to touch them at all in fear of getting bitten; zombies don't need to care abt that

most of the horde realizes that this meal isn't going to be easy and they wander off, but a few more hungry, more desperate ones try to rip into mob's throat at the first sign of defiance. it's not exactly a fair fight; it's like 1 against 4, so he's sorta bound to lose

thankfully ritsu shows up and shoots two of them down (he's Terrified of shooting mob by accident, but either way he'll probably die, so) and tome gets the last one with a good swing to the head. ritsu rushes to mob and is horrified by the amount of blood dripping from his neck and his arm; tome is equally as shocked, but she's mostly thinking, "ive Never seen a zombie defend a human before"

mob's neck is thankfully mostly just scraped up and clawed, but there Is some gruesome punctures where canines sank in and tugged. it's a lot worse along his arm that's bitten and gouged beyond belief. he loses a lot of blood here, but the whole nerves-no-longer-work thing is a blessing in disguise atm; he'd be in a lot of pain otherwise. while ritsu and tome are patching him up w shaky hands he simply glares beyond their shoulders like he thinks he's still in danger, even when they tighten the bandages. it's like he barely notices what they’re doing

his strangely alert behavior makes them think abt the possibility that maybe mob Knows he could've easily been shredded apart there, and he's a little scared and worked up abt it. the only reason he managed to fight as long as he did without dying is prolly bc the other zombies weren't as well-fed as mob—they were kinda weak and shaky from days of no food, but mob has humans taking care of him and keeping him fed 24/7

they're all shaken up by it pretty good.. tome is still reeling from the fact that mob defended her so valiantly, and ritsu is quietly horrified by the idea of another zombie killing mob instead of a human. he doesn't know which is worse

[healingheartdogs]

It's so funny looking on my patient portal for my doctors and seeing "patient looks well nourished" on all my visit summaries when it is documented by my blood work that I am, in fact, very much NOT well nourished and have been prescribed multiple high dose supplements now to make up for how malnourished I actually am.

[malcriada]

between receiving a 500€ bill from one of my energy companies and not knowing how the fuck i am going to pay, and having to transport my (huge) air purifier to the course i’m starting next week without an available car, i am not having a good day today

[justposting1]

How to Lose Belly Fat Fast: Tips and Workouts

Losing belly fat requires a combination of targeted workouts, a healthy diet, and lifestyle changes. Here’s a guide to help you get started: Targeting Belly Fat Is POSSIBLE?! (New Study) Everyone wants to lose belly fat, right? The problem is, you can’t choose where fat loss happens in your body every time you work out. Or at least, I didn’t think you could… Until I came across this new study,…

[techdriveplay]

2024 Father’s Day Ultimate Gift Guide for Every Type of Dad

Father’s Day is just around the corner, and finding the perfect gift to celebrate the special dad in your life can be a challenge. Whether he’s a whiskey connoisseur, a tech enthusiast, or a fan of outdoor adventures, there’s something out there that will make his day extra special. In this TDP Father’s Day Gift Guide, we’ve curated a selection of top-tier gifts that cater to every type of dad,…

[hardwaredepot]

Find the Perfect Reflective Wear for Your Workplace!

Find a wide selection of reflective wear and safety vests at the hardware Depot for your workplace safety needs. These reflective vests are made from breathable mesh fabric (100% polyester) for all-day comfort. They come with radio clip holders, waist pockets with hook and loop flaps, a left chest pocket with hook and loop flap, and an open right chest pocket with pen pockets. Stay visible in construction, high-traffic areas, land surveying, off-road assistance, jogging, cycling, walking, or fishing.

[luvevee]

Last few months has been the worst mental health spiral I've had in years but I have my eepy deepy hubs and that makes things worth it 💕

[highgearhealth]

Accessing Men's Health Supplements' Power.pdf

High Gear Health knows that a high-octane existence requires a strong support system. Our men's health supplements are carefully formulated to restore key nutrients for top performance. These supplements help you maintain energy with a powerful combination of natural components.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

"But don't let its beauty fool you. This plant can be processed into a powerful neurotoxin which can cause near permanent madness unless treated!"

Professor Calculus, upon developing a state-of-the-art automated hydroponics and pesticides delivery system, has been invited to judge a prestigious international flower show at the largest botanical garden in Belgium.

Botany experts and amateurs from around the world attend - Professor Zalamea is there to showcase his bizarre genetically modified bioluminescent blue oranges, Nash is displaying some of his explorations into living sculpture, and Castafiore is geared up to perform in the evening. Most controversially of all, Professor Fang Hsi Ying, a world leading expert on mental health, is showcasing his research on the Rajaijah plant, a plant historically used to produce madness poison.

It's this exhibit that causes a stir at the event. Security is on high alert. After the poison was used a few years ago in several high profile drug smuggling cases that were embroiled in politics, the plant is anticipated to be a subject of fear and Orientalism. Protestors calling for its destruction flock the event, and there are rumours of a plot to steal the rare plant. The organisers hope that the controversy will generate ticket sales and revenue.

Tintin and Chang are there to report on the goings on, having just confessed their feelings for each other. They're not sure what they are just yet - but even without a madness poison, Tintin's head is in a spin!

I had the idea to bring back Rajaijah juice for some time and was intially going to set it at a garden party, but I received this message from anon some time ago:

And I just loved the Drama of a botanical garden a whole lot more!

Because of the time it takes for me to make stuff and the planning that goes into my posts I do take a very long time to respond to messages, and sometimes multiple people send similar messages anticipating stuff I already have planned, so if I come across as standoffish I apologise, I just have a lot on my plate (by my own design tbh)!

I love every message I receive, I started this blog intending to respond to every message but that's becoming unrealistic ;_; I keep your messages to read back whenever I need motivation, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you if you've sent me an ask!

[reasonandempathy]

Walz has served as Minnesota’s governor since 2019 after 12 years in the House of Representatives and now chairs the Democratic Governors Association. He has built a reputation as a folksy politician who can get things done, as Minnesota has adopted a number of progressive laws during his tenure. According to a poll conducted earlier this year, Walz enjoys an approval rating of 55% among Minnesotans. Since Minnesota Democrats achieved a legislative trifecta in the 2022 elections, Walz and his allies have used their power to push a slate of progressive policies. The governor has signed bills protecting abortion access, expanding background checks for prospective gun owners and legalizing recreational marijuana. “Right now, Minnesota is showing the country you don’t win elections to bank political capital,” Walz said last year. “You win elections to burn political capital and improve lives.” That philosophy has endeared him to progressives, who threw their support behind him as the veepstakes kicked into high gear over the past two weeks. They reshared clips of Walz lovingly mocking his daughter’s vegetarianism and tinkering with his car to paint him as the dad that America needs right now.

This is fucking awesome! Honestly, sincerely good news and a very promising pick for the potential Harris Administration. An aggressive, unabashed, popular, populist left-winger with a track record of enacting real, substantive help for people is capital-G Great.

What has he done, specifically?

Abortion rights

In a 1995 ruling, the Minnesota Supreme Court upheld abortion rights in Minnesota. In January 2023, Walz signed the PRO Act (Protect Reproductive Options Act) into law, making abortion a "fundamental right," as well as access to contraception, fertility treatments, sterilization and other reproductive health care.

The law made Minnesota the first state to codify abortion rights in the aftermath of the U.S. Supreme Court's 2022 ruling in the case of Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, which nullified Roe. v. Wade after nearly 50 years of precedent. In April 2023, Walz signed the Reproductive Freedom Defense Act into law, shielding women and providers from any legal action originating from the patient's state.

Pro-LGBTQIA+ legislation

In March 2023, Walz signed an executive order to protect the right of residents to have access to gender-affirming health care. Weeks later, he signed the "Trans Refuge" bill, banning the enforcement of arrest warrants, extradition requests and out-of-state subpoenas for those who traveled to Minnesota for care.

"When someone else is given basic rights, others don't lose theirs," Walz said. "We aren't cutting a pie here. We're giving basic rights to every single Minnesotan."

Paid family, medical and sick leave

In May 2023, Walz signed a law creating a state-run program to provide paid family and medical leave for Minnesota workers, funded by a 0.7% payroll tax on employers, by 2026.

Legalization of recreational marijuana

In May 2023, Minnesota became the 23rd state in the nation to legalize recreational cannabis use. Three months later, people 21 and older could start to possess certain amounts of marijuana at home and on their person, in addition to legally growing up to eight plants at a time.

Restoration of voting rights for former felons

In March 2023, Walz signed a bill that restored the right to vote to more than 50,000 convicted felons who had already served their time.

Universal school meals

Amid the increase in food insecurity for many Minnesotans during the pandemic, and the subsequent strain on the state's food shelves that remains to this day, Walz signed a bill in March 2023 that ensures all K-12 students in the state have access to free breakfast and lunch on school days.

Do you know what makes this even better?

Fuck 'Em. I know negative partisanship is important and can help motivate right-wingers to vote, but they're going to vote anyway. And him being afraid of Walz is just a sign that he's a good pick, in policy and politics.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2897

Warnings: body image issues. Quite detailed too, so be careful and look out for yourselves.

Summary: After you tear your acl, your mental health takes quite a severe hit. [Requested]

Notes: one more draft to go after this, then we is done for a little while

It was no secret that Alexia was the epitome of fitness. Every muscle seemed to have its place on her body, sculpted from years of dedication on the field and in the gym. She was renowned for her strength and endurance, and her intense daily workouts left her with abs sharp enough to carve ice. Her legs were powerful, capable of sprinting up and down the pitch for ninety minutes straight, and when she wrapped them around you, every single coherent though you had immediately leaves your mind. It was impossible not to admire her—no, to adore her for it. She didn't just look incredible; she carried herself with a natural grace, a quiet confidence that made her strength seem even more alluring.

She was up before the crack of dawn every morning, lacing up her trainers and stretching quietly in the hallway while you mumbled sleepy protests from bed. And she'd just smile, soft and affectionate, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead before heading out. Sometimes, she'd even sneak a second workout into her day, returning to the gym after training if she was feeling restless. It was her way of clearing her mind, finding her center amidst the stresses of her intense schedule. Her body was her temple, her mind, a fortress—and she was diligent in caring for both.

You were in good shape, too, of course. It was a necessity as a professional footballer, but you didn't feel the same love for exercise as Alexia did. To her, fitness was a passion; to you, it was a means to an end. You'd lace up for runs, lift weights, and do the drills, but it was all about maintaining strength for the game, not about striving for the chiseled perfection that Alexia seemed to attain effortlessly. You had some definition—your muscles were toned in places, and you were proud of the fitness you had. But you didn't have a six-pack, or the rock-hard thighs and sculpted arms that Alexia did. There was softness to your body, a gentle curve that felt miles away from the physique she held herself to.

You'd grown to accept that, too. Sure, some days, you'd catch a glimpse of Alexia in her workout gear, fresh from a morning session, muscles rippling under her taut skin, and you'd feel a pang of envy. But it wasn't enough to change how you viewed yourself. You might not have the carved-out, intensely toned build that she had, but your body was yours, and that was enough. You nourished it, rested it, treated it well. Alexia adored you for who you were, and she'd always made it abundantly clear that you didn't need to change a thing. So, you held onto that, content in the comfort of her steady admiration and your own quiet acceptance.

And then it happened.

*

Tearing your ACL was more than a setback. It was a wrench thrown into everything you knew about yourself, your career, and your confidence. The physical pain was intense, yes, but the mental toll? That was a different beast altogether. The moment the diagnosis came, you were handed a new path, one that demanded you start over, essentially relearning how to walk, run, and move in ways that had once come effortlessly.

Your recovery plan was strict. "Get stronger," the physical therapist had told you. "Anything you can do to support that knee." The aim was to build strength before agility, to make sure that when you eventually stepped back onto the field, your knee would hold up. And to build that strength, you needed more muscle.

So you followed the program. A different nutrition plan meant eating more, much more than you were used to. It was a meticulous routine of high-protein meals and heavier weights, adjusting your body to a new rhythm. The change in your body was immediate and striking. Muscle mass took time, but the weight gain didn't wait for anyone. It wasn't just muscle; some of it was fat, too. Your once lean and toned frame grew softer, more solid, and the athletic lines you'd been so familiar with blurred into something different. Every time you caught yourself in the mirror, the difference seemed glaring.

You tried to remind yourself that it was part of the plan, and in some ways, it was working. The muscle you gained gave you the stability you needed in your knee, and as you got stronger, so did your confidence in moving. But it was a far cry from what you were used to, and the internet, naturally, had a field day with it. Photos started surfacing, snapshots of you out and about or in training, and the comments came fast and merciless. Every little flaw was picked apart: a fold in your chin, the curve of your waist, the size of your thighs. Strangers felt entitled to judge you, to dissect every inch of your body in ways that left you reeling.

It got to you. How could it not? The comments slipped into your thoughts, lingering like a shadow every time you ate, trained, or even looked at yourself in the mirror. Even the smallest gestures became tainted by this newfound self-consciousness. In the shower, you'd notice the places that felt softer. In the gym, you'd feel acutely aware of the way your body didn't look like it used to. And it followed you home, creeping into the space you shared with Alexia, a place that had once felt like a sanctuary.

Alexia, in her usual affectionate way, was none the wiser. She treated you exactly the same, her hands roaming freely over your body with the same warmth and adoration she'd always shown. But every time she touched your waist, your stomach, or the soft flesh of your thighs, you'd feel a pang, a quiet discomfort that you tried desperately to ignore. You told yourself it was silly, that she hadn't even noticed the change. But each time her hands grazed over the parts of you that felt different, the ones the internet was so quick to call out, you couldn't help but brace, almost flinch.

When Alexia would lie beside you on the sofa, her head resting on your thighs, the weight of her presence suddenly felt heavy, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. You'd struggle to enjoy the moment, fighting the urge to shift away, to hide. Or when she'd wrap her arms around you from behind, resting her head against your shoulder, and you'd feel her fingers press softly into your stomach, all you could think of was whether she felt the difference. If she noticed the extra softness there.

Then, there were the times she wanted to be closer, when her hands wandered a bit further, her gaze lingering with the kind of adoration that used to set you at ease. But now, each brush of her fingertips over your skin, every glance that she stole felt like a magnifying glass on every insecurity you'd grown to harbor. It was as if the comments you'd read online were imprinted on you, and every time Alexia's touch lingered, they echoed in your mind.

You tried to bury it, to keep your discomfort hidden beneath the surface. Alexia never let on that she'd noticed anything different; if she did, she was remarkably patient, waiting for you to open up. But you couldn't bring yourself to admit the insecurity gnawing at you. She didn't seem to mind, so why should you make her aware of something that, to her, didn't exist? So, you hid it, smiled through the lingering self-doubt, and tried to keep up appearances.

But it was exhausting, living in constant vigilance, battling an inner voice that refused to quiet. And as much as you wanted to shake it, to silence the nagging insecurities, they lingered, shadowing your every thought.

*

Alexia's gaze was intense as she leaned over you, her body pressed to yours, the warm weight of her presence grounding you in place as her lips moved insistently against yours. It was a familiar rhythm, one you usually found yourself melting into. Normally, her touch—firm yet gentle—would have had you feeling nothing but desire, lost in the anticipation that only she could draw out in you. But tonight, you found yourself bracing against her, your mind elsewhere as self-doubt seeped into every crevice of your thoughts.

In the months since your injury, your body had changed. The rehab program had brought new strength, but also unexpected curves. You felt softer than before, and no amount of repetition to yourself that it was necessary, even healthy, could shake the unease when you looked in the mirror. Stretch marks that had once been barely visible now mapped their way along your thighs and hips, undeniable reminders of the ways your body had adjusted, healed, and grown. But rather than pride, you felt exposed, vulnerable, as though these visible changes were flaws rather than symbols of resilience.

Alexia's hands moved purposefully down your sides, her fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt. The familiar touch that once filled you with security now left you tense. She had been so patient, so understanding, never pressing you to go further. You hadn't made love since before the surgery. First, it was because you couldn't physically handle it. Then, as you started healing, there was always some excuse. You'd kept her at arm's length, letting yourself be the one in control, making sure her attention stayed solely on her own pleasure. You'd hoped it would distract her, keep her from noticing the hesitation that lingered in your own movements.

But tonight, Alexia's determination to close the distance between you was clear. Her hands, more insistent than before, slid up the curve of your waist, drawing you closer, pulling you back into the intimacy you'd once shared without question. The air felt heavy with the unspoken, and you felt the edges of your own defenses starting to fray, your discomfort edging into something you couldn't suppress.

When she tugged at your waistband, her intention was unmistakable, and your body instinctively pulled back as your voice rose, pleading, "Stop." It was barely more than a whisper, but the tremor in your tone cut through the haze between you, and Alexia stilled immediately. Her hands halted as she pulled back, her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and yearning. Her breathing was still ragged as she leaned back, moving to her knees, studying you with furrowed brows. The way she looked at you, raw and concerned, was almost too much, the shame twisting inside you like a vice. She asked gently what was wrong, her voice softened, but the words sat heavy in the air.

Your hands flew to your face, covering your eyes in an effort to hide the turmoil, but you felt her move closer, her presence warm and unwavering. Her hands reached for you, wrapping around your shoulders as she drew you to her chest, her bare leg slipping behind your back as she cradled you against her. One of her arms slipped under your legs, tugging you sideways so that you were cocooned in her embrace, sheltered and safe.

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, and you stifled your sobs against your palms, feeling Alexia's gentle sway as she rocked you. Her hand stroked up and down your back, a steady rhythm that eased some of the tension from your body. You clung to her, desperate for the comfort her touch provided, feeling your breath catch as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

There, in her arms, you knew that hiding wasn't an option anymore.

"What's wrong, amor?" her voice was so tender that the words you'd been holding back spilled out before you could stop them. Choking on each syllable, you told her everything—how much you hated the way you looked, how every curve felt wrong, how the stretch marks on your thighs and hips felt like a betrayal. You admitted that fueling your body had become a battle, that you'd started skipping meals, working out to the point of straining your knee, forcing yourself to push through the ache just to feel worthy.

"I spend so much time," you said, your voice breaking, "just standing in front of the mirror, analysing everything. Picking myself apart until I can't stand it anymore. I can't even..." Your voice faltered, thick with tears. "I can't even look at myself."

Alexia's hold on you tightened, her fingers digging slightly into your back, as if to keep you grounded. Her eyes never left your face, absorbing every raw word, her own eyes brimming with pain, reflecting the hurt you'd been carrying.

"I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want you to look at me without clothes because... if I hate what I see, then... then surely you would too." The admission slipped out, a final, aching confession. "Maybe if you just waited... if you could just hold on a little while longer, I'll be back to how I was before. And then... then it'd be okay."

But before you could finish, Alexia cut you off, her voice firmer than you'd ever heard it, startling you with the sharpness of her words. "Don't you dare say that," she whispered, her tone fierce with a hurt that mirrored your own. You flinched, and she immediately softened, her fingers brushing your cheek as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, amor. I didn't mean to scare you. But you're wrong," she said, her voice still laced with intensity. She tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze, her brown eyes holding you captive. "Please, just listen."

As she adjusted you slightly in her lap, holding you close, she wrapped her arms around you, drawing you into the comforting circle of her warmth. You nodded, still sniffling, your fingers curled into her shirt as you leaned into her touch.

"You are beautiful," she said firmly. "Siempre. Every day. Every moment." You opened your mouth to protest, but she pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you before you could interrupt. Her gaze softened, her thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears as she continued.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see someone strong, even when you don't feel it." Her hands slid down your arms, squeezing gently. "These arms? They hold me, support me, even when you're feeling like this. And your legs? I know you think they're different now, but to me, they're perfect." She moved her hand down to rest on your thigh, tracing small circles with her thumb. "Do you remember the times I've rested my head here, just because it's where I feel safe?"

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve waver as her words seeped into the cracks of your defenses.

"And your stretch marks?" She leaned down, her lips brushing over your thigh, a gentle kiss that made you shiver. "They're proof of what you've been through. Proof that your body is fighting, that you're healing. They're beautiful to me. You are beautiful to me."

Still, the doubts clawed at you, whispers of insecurity that wouldn't quiet. She saw the uncertainty in your eyes and, as if reading your thoughts, she brought her hand up to cup your face, her gaze locked with yours.

"Please, amor," she murmured, her voice almost a plea. "Let me show you."

You could barely bring yourself to nod.

With that, she kissed you, her lips moving slowly, reverently. Her hands cupped your face, her fingers tracing the lines of your jaw, holding you as though you were something precious. And with each kiss, each soft murmur of adoration, you felt a little bit of the weight start to lift.

She coaxed you to lie back, settling you against the pillows, her hand trailing down to link with yours, her fingers warm and grounding. As she leaned over you, her lips found your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses that sent warmth spreading through you. Her lips traced every inch of exposed skin, reverent, tender, making you feel seen in a way you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in so long.

“I love this," she murmured, her fingers tracing over your hips, the slight curve of your waist. "Every part of you is beautiful to me."

She kissed the stretch marks on your thighs, her lips brushing over them with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Her hands remained steady, her fingers tracing over your body as if memorising every curve, every line. She didn't rush, allowing you to sink into the feeling of her touch, to let yourself be held, to let yourself be loved without hesitation or restraint. She murmured soft affirmations, telling you how much she adored you, how lucky she felt to have you, her words anchoring you to the here and now.

And somewhere in the midst of her gentle worship, you found yourself relaxing, the tension in your body easing as her love wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You felt her hands against your sides, her lips pressing tender kisses to your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel beautiful.

As she continued, her lips pressing gentle, adoring kisses over every inch of your body, you knew that healing wouldn't be immediate, that learning to love yourself again would take time. But with Alexia by your side, holding you, loving you, showing you the beauty she saw in you, you felt a glimmer of hope that one day, you might see it too.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[its-avalon-08]

could you do a schumacher!daughter reader fic pretty please😇 somethin g soft and sweet

anon you read my mind <3

little schumi (ms7!daughter)

(p.s. i showed by father this gif and he has tears in his eyes, side note: my dad loves michael schumacher)

The familiar scent of burnt rubber and ozone hung heavy in the air as Y/N Schumacher navigated the bustling Formula One paddock. Unlike her brother Mick, who was gearing up for qualifying, Y/N never felt the pull of the racetrack. Instead, she gravitated towards the human stories that unfolded around it.

A gruff but gentle hand landed on her shoulder. "There you are, little Schumi," boomed a voice that could only belong to Kimi Raikkonen. Y/N grinned, returning the signature Kimi side-eye. "Kimi! Did you see Valtteri's new helmet design? It's outrageous!"

Kimi snorted. "Looks like a flock of angry parrots attacked it." They shared a laugh, their easy camaraderie a testament to the years Y/N had spent soaking up the paddock atmosphere. Every driver, engineer, and mechanic knew her, a familiar smile in a world of high-octane adrenaline.

Fernando Alonso, a close friend of her father's, spotted them and sauntered over. "How's my favorite Schumi doing today?" he asked, ruffling her hair. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't you have a qualifying session to win, Fernando?"

"Practice makes perfect, but spending time with you is always a priority, pequena," he winked. Y/N knew the playful banter was a way to deflect from the unspoken. Her father's condition was a shadow that loomed over the entire F1 family.

Just then, a young reporter, all bright eyes and eager questions, approached Y/N. "Ms. Schumacher, a few words for Sky Sports? Can you share your thoughts on your father's health?"

Y/N's smile faltered. Everyone knew this was a touchy subject. Sebastian Vettel, who was just passing by, overheard and stepped in. "Let's leave Y/N out of this, shall we?" he said, his voice firm but kind. "She doesn't owe you a public statement."

The reporter looked flustered. "But sir, it's a question everyone wants answered." Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And everyone will have to understand that some things are private, especially when it comes to family." He offered Y/N a reassuring smile. "Come on, Y/N, let's grab some coffee before the chaos starts."

Grateful, Y/N linked arms with Sebastian. The paddock might be a competitive arena, but the drivers, the ones who understood pressure and risk, formed their own kind of family. They understood her silence, her need for normalcy in a world obsessed with speed.

As they walked, Y/N overheard snippets of conversations. "Poor Y/N," someone murmured. "She must be going through hell." Another voice added, "Leave her alone, haven't they been through enough?" Y/N offered a small, sad smile. It hurt, but it also warmed her heart. Her father, with his quiet strength and unwavering determination, had built a legacy that transcended wins and podium finishes. He had inspired loyalty, respect, and a fierce protectiveness that extended to his daughter, even in this fast-paced, unforgiving world.

Reaching the small coffee shop tucked away in the paddock, Y/N settled into a booth with Sebastian. "Thanks, Seb," she said, her voice soft.

Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. "Anytime, Y/N. You know, your dad would be proud of you. The way you handle yourself, your kindness… it's something special."

Y/N smiled, tears pricking her eyes. Maybe she wouldn't be on the racetrack, but here, in the heart of the paddock, amongst the roar of engines and the smell of racing fuel, she felt a part of her father's legacy.

time skip

The post-race debrief was abuzz with post-adrenaline chatter. Y/N, perched on the edge of Lando Norris' chair, listened with a half-ear as he recounted his epic battle with Daniel Ricciardo on the final lap. They may be from different teams, but their young love story was a paddock favorite.

"…and then I went for the undercut, and bam! Second place!" Lando finished, a triumphant grin splitting his face. Y/N leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Amazing job, my champion," she whispered, earning a playful swat on the arm.

Suddenly, Charles Leclerc burst through the door, his phone held aloft. "Did you guys see this?!" he exclaimed, brandishing a news article. Max Verstappen, who was sprawled on the couch next to Lewis Hamilton, snatched the phone. "What is it, Charles?"

Max's eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the article. "Seriously?" he growled, throwing the phone onto the coffee table. Y/N's heart lurched. It couldn't be good.

Lewis picked it up and read aloud, his voice heavy with disapproval. "'Mick Schumacher: A shadow of his father's talent?' This is ridiculous!"

Y/N's blood boiled. How dare they criticize her brother, especially so harshly? She felt tears prickling her eyes, her fists clenching. Before she could react further, Lando was by her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. "Don't let them get to you. Mick's a phenomenal driver, everyone knows that."

Carlos Sainz, ever the comedian, piped up from across the room. "Besides, who needs talent when you have good looks like Mick, right?" he winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.

Y/N forced a smile, her anger slowly simmering down. She knew they were trying to lighten the mood, and she appreciated their support. "Thanks, guys," she sniffled. "It just… it's frustrating."

Lewis, his calm demeanor ever-present, spoke up. "Let the results speak for themselves, Y/N. Mick's still young, and he's already proving himself. This kind of trash talk doesn't deserve your attention."

Max, still fuming, grabbed the phone again and typed furiously. "There," he declared, showing the screen to the rest of them. "I just tweeted my support for Mick. Let's see how those journalists like that."

Y/N let out a laugh, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. These weren't just her teammates, they were her family, her chosen tribe. They understood the pressure, the scrutiny, and the unwavering loyalty that bound them together. They wouldn't let some random article bring her down.

Lando nudged her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, you know who the real untalented one is," he whispered, leaning in close.

Y/N playfully swatted his arm. "Oh yeah? And who's that?"

Lando winked. "The one who keeps losing to me on the simulator, obviously."

Their playful banter erupted into laughter, the tension completely forgotten. Surrounded by her closest friends, Y/N knew that no matter what the headlines said, she had her own championship team, one that valued love, support, and a good dose of healthy teasing.

time skip

The air crackled with a bittersweet energy as the F1 paddock celebrated Michael Schumacher's birthday. Banners emblazoned with his iconic number 7 adorned the pit lanes, and mechanics sported specially designed caps. Yet, beneath the celebratory facade, a current of unspoken grief hummed.

Mick and Y/N Schumacher stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a united front against the tide of emotions. Their gazes were fixed on a freshly painted mural across the track. It depicted Michael, mid-race, a determined glint in his eyes, the car a blur of red. The artwork was a poignant reminder of the man they missed terribly.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Y/N said, her voice barely a whisper.

Mick nodded, his jaw clenched tight. "They captured him perfectly." A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Mick spoke, his voice gruff. "It hurts, doesn't it? Seeing him… but not really."

Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. "It's the worst kind of absence, Mick. We know he's there, but…" she trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.

Mick pulled her into a side hug, his protective aura a familiar comfort. "I know, Y/N. I know. But you're not alone. We have each other, and we have Mom. We'll get through this, together."

Y/N leaned into her brother's embrace, finding solace in his strength. "I know," she murmured. "It's just… I miss him telling me bad jokes after qualifying."

A choked laugh escaped Mick. "Yeah, those were the worst." He paused, then added, "But he still loved them, didn't he?"

Y/N chuckled, a tear rolling down her cheek. "He did. He loved seeing us laugh."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, the paddock noises a distant hum. Y/N looked up at the mural, a flicker of determination replacing the sadness in her eyes. "We'll make him proud, Mick. Both of us."

Mick met her gaze, his blue eyes mirroring her resolve. "We will. We owe him that."

A hand landed on Mick's shoulder. Sebastian Vettel stood beside them, his expression solemn. "He is proud of you both," he said softly. "Every single day."

Y/N and Mick exchanged a grateful smile. In that moment, surrounded by the people who knew their father best, they felt a surge of strength. Michael Schumacher's absence might leave an aching void, but his legacy, his love, and the unwavering support of their F1 family would forever keep his spirit alive.

[charlesherbertlightoller]

In light of the summer surge of COVID-19 rolling round, masking protocols getting scrapped left and right, other respiratory diseases on the rise and seasonal air pollution ramping up, here's some more things that high-performance respirator masks (N95 and the like) protect against:

Influenza (including bird flu!)

Common cold

Bacterial pneumonia

Tuberculosis

Measles

Fungal spores (including valley fever!)

Dust

Airborne allergens (pollen, pet dander, dust mites, etc)

Man-made air pollution (exhaust from cars and jets, industrial emissions, etc.)

Wildfire smoke

…and much more!

While COVID-19 is undoubtably serious and masking is the best way to prevent yourself from catching it, there's many more reasons why the air might be bad to breathe, and breathing bad air is a public health risk for everyone! Additionally, certain demographics experience higher levels of exposure to airborne contaminants than others, yet they often have the least access to accurate information, personal protective gear and medical resources.

It is imperative, for stemming the spread of COVID, mitigating the effects of other airborne hazards and showing solidarity with vulnerable individuals, that we normalize masking for a variety of reasons. Do you have a cold? Wear a mask. Do you have allergies? Wear a mask. Do you live or work in an area with heavy air pollution? Wear a mask. Is there a wildfire nearby? Wear a mask. Just want to avoid getting sick when you go to the doctor's office? Wear a mask. Whenever and wherever there might be bad air, masking protects you!

It may seem like nobody cares now, but I promise you; change is possible, change is inevitable, and YOU have the agency and ability to make change for yourself, your community and the world by setting an example and spreading the word. So take charge and clear the air!

(I do not use Blaze. Please reblog this post so it gets more notes!)

[stuckinblack-widows-web]

in the quiet of the dark

Soft! Natasha Romanoff x Girlfriend!Reader

wc~ 1.7k

a/n: i wrote this a very long time ago when i was struggling with my own mental health. i am getting better i think and this fanfic did help, so maybe it can help someone else

*not proofread*

cw: angst, self harm, fluff, hurt with comfort

Natasha Romanoff hummed a soft melody to herself as she pushed open the door to her cozy apartment, balancing a couple of shopping bags on one arm. The faint, soothing smell of lavender still lingered in the air, and a smile spread across her face since she knew that it meant her girlfriend had probably lit one of the favorite candles, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Having set the bags gently down on the floor, Natasha took a moment to stretch out her body, feeling the muscles sore from the day's demanding activities; still, her heart felt light and joyful at the thought of coming home to the comfort of her space and the company of her loved one.

The apartment was wrapped in a peaceful silence, that kind of still tranquility Natasha had grown to appreciate so much after so many years of turbulent moments and cacophonous noise. As she pulled off her boots with a soft thud, she padded silently along toward the bedroom, a smile growing larger and brighter as she caught sight of her girlfriend, gracefully sprawled across the bed in languid repose. The sun, working through the curtains, danced and played upon her placid and serene face while her chest rose and fell in the steady, soothing rhythm of deep sleep. Natasha paused for a moment, heart swelling with overwhelming affection and warmth for the woman she loved.

“You’re truly beautiful,” she murmured softly under her breath, carefully not wanting to disturb the peaceful tranquility that surrounded them.

She tiptoed closer, gently brushing a strand of errant hair from her girlfriend's face, not wanting to wake her. Natasha was tempted to lie down beside her and take a quiet nap but decided that would be better after freshening up. Taking one last look at the inviting bed, she glided into the en suite bathroom, closing the door behind her to renew herself. The cool tile beneath her feet was quite a change from the warm and cozy atmosphere of the apartment, and as she reached for a towel, Natasha found herself humming softly once more.

At that moment, she knew she was doing it.

A small, almost negligible speck of red was showing against the stark whiteness of the tile floor, positioned conspicuously near the sink area. Natasha furrowed her brow in concern as her instincts rapidly kicked into high gear, alerting her to the unusual sight. She followed the faint, crimson trail, her keen, observant eyes catching sight of yet another spot of red and then yet another one following it. A knot of unease twisted in her stomach as she finally arrived at the trash bin, where her gaze fell upon the alarming sight of a razor blade's edge ominously peeking out from beneath a crumpled tissue.

Her heart sank.

Natascha was now crouched beside the bin, her breath catching in her throat as the wave of emotions washed over her. Memories flooded back into her mind—painful memories of her past, filled with all the various mechanisms she had employed to cope, which finally scarred her soul with marks that would never go away. With a sense of trepidation, she reached out, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the tissue, and in that moment, felt a deep connection. Deep down inside, she knew she need not dig any deeper into the contents of the bin to understand what it all meant.

Straightening up, Natasha took a moment to stare at her reflection in the mirror as a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirled through her mind. Her girlfriend had always been her safe haven, the source of comfort that was always there to help make the world less cold and uninviting. The very thought of her having to go through this sort of emotional agony alone was enough to make Natasha's chest ache with a heavy sense of empathy and concern.

She took a deep breath to calm herself down and slowly backed into the room. Her girlfriend was still asleep, peaceful, and that look on her face only made Natasha's heart swell in her chest. Natasha paused for just a fraction of a second before slowly sitting down gently on the edge of the bed. Her hand reached out to gently touch her girlfriend's arm with a soft, tender gesture.

"Hey, my love," Natasha said softly, her voice still calm and composed, though a storm was raging inside her. "Could you please wake up?"

Her girlfriend began to stir from her slumber, slowly blinking her eyes open in a dazed manner. “Nat?” she mumbled softly, her voice thick and heavy with the remnants of sleep. “You’re back home?”

"Yes, it's true, I'm home, "Natasha responded. Natasha was smiling gently, and her voice was even gentle, though beneath the tenderness of her smile lay a thin layer of worry. She waited patiently to give the girlfriend time to fully home her vision to assure this was where she was keeping her focus. "Do you think we could possibly talk for just a brief moment?"

Her girlfriend frowned slightly and sat up. "What's wrong?"

Natasha reached out and took her hands, gently, into her own with a delicate touch. "I… I saw something weird in the bathroom," she began, choosing her words carefully, her voice a fragile balance of softness and resolve. "There was some blood there. And a razor, too."

Her girlfriend's eyes widened in shock, face flushing a rosy shade as a mixture of embarrassment and fear flooded her face. She tried to pull her hands away from Natasha, but Natasha still held her with a light grip, not releasing.

"Hey," Natasha said, her voice calm and comforting in its tone. "It's all right. I want you to know I'm not mad at you at all, and I certainly am not judging you. I just.I really do want to understand what's going through that mind of yours. Will you talk to me, please?

Tears were starting to gather and form in her girlfriend's eyes, glistening as they threatened to spill over, and she looked away instinctively, her shoulders hunching down in a manner that seemed to indicate that she was attempting to make herself appear smaller, almost as if she wished she could just disappear. Natasha's heart almost broke at the sight of her girlfriend so distressed yet, in that moment, remained patient and calm, using her thumbs gently to brush soothing circles on her girlfriend's hands in a gesture calming and reassuring.

"I didn't want you to know," her girlfriend finally whispered, her voice trembling with emotion and vulnerability. "It's stupid, I know it is, and I fully recognize that. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like the only way to cope with everything that's happening around us."

She nodded to indicate her understanding, her expression a fusion of softness and gravity. "It's not stupid," she said with great conviction, her voice very firm. "Pain. it's just the way it is—a slippery little devil that gets us feeling trapped inside its infinite cycle. And sometimes, trying to get out of it, we do things that, at the moment, perhaps are not the best choice in respect to our well-being. I understand precisely where you're coming from.".

Her girlfriend's eyes lifted to meet hers, filled with a sense of question and seeking. "You really do?"

Natasha's gaze, which had been intense and focused, slowly softened as she allowed another layer of her emotions to show. She shifted one of her hands, letting it move from its resting place to trace the thin scar that marked her own wrist. "I do," she said, her voice level but full of earnestness. "I've been there, in that very hard place. And I know how hard it is to open up and talk about it. But you don't have to go through this struggle all by yourself. Not when I'm right here by your side, ready to support you."

The tears welled up and overflowed at that moment, cascading down her cheeks, and her girlfriend let out a shaky sob that echoed the deep pain she was feeling. Instinctively, Natasha wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close in a gesture of comfort while she softly cried.

Not a word was spoken, nor did she try to offer empty words of reassurance that might have been an insincere gesture at that moment. Instead, she just held her tightly, her hands gently moving up and down her back in a rhythmic fashion, trying to convey all the love and support in her heart. As her girlfriend's heart-wrenching sobs finally subsided into a succession of small, quiet sniffles, Natasha took a moment to pull back a little, allowing herself the chance to look deep into her eyes.

"We can sort this out together," she said softly and reassuringly, her voice filled with warmth and compassion. "There's no shame at all in asking for help, and I want you to know that I'll be with you every step of this way. Okay? Her girlfriend nodded slowly and uncertainly, her hands holding onto Natasha's shirt tightly, as if she was filled to overflowing with a deep fear of having to let her go. "Okay," she whispered softly, barely above a murmur. Natasha smiled tenderly and leaned in for a soft kiss against her forehead, her voice full of soft conviction.

"Good, because you're too important to me, to let you go through this difficult time alone." They sat there for what felt like a very long time, the silent heft of the discussion looming in the air between them, creating an ambiance present but not overwhelming or choking them.

For the first time in what felt like ages, her girlfriend could perceive a small spark of hope budding inside of her, that maybe, just maybe, there was a way that things could get better and would. And Natasha? She was the one who wisely and carefully decided to be the solid rock her girlfriend so badly needed at this time, just as she had played that role for her many times before.

Together they would meet and ride out the impending stormy weather—one cautious step at a time—making sure they stayed strong and united.