#i hate! doctors and medical settings

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

At the doctor! Torn between hating doctors and really loving the ones that I'm seeing today.

[mars-ipan]

i have my first infusion tomorrow and the Anxiety is kicking in and i am trying so so hard to keep it calm

[opens-up-4-nobody]

OCD is pretty common among autistic people, and many of us who dont have full-on OCD may experience some things that can be kinda similar to some aspects of it. I'm on the spectrum myself and i also have this issue of basically getting stuck on some thoughts. It sucks, sometimes it's something that makes me angry but doesnt actually matter that much in the grand acheme of things and i just end up in a bad mood over something stupid and cant stop thinking abt it for a few days even though there are no new thoughts about it, i just keep going through old ones again and again and again. I dont know if there's a term for it, but hey, at least I'm not the only one, and neither are you. Generally i just look for distractions and wait until the thoughts get less obsessive and annoying

That makes sense, thanks!

[re-velogs]

i think the craziest thing about the clinical trial ive been in all summer is its at my primary care where i get my hrt and stuff through & in the binder theyre maintaining for me is a big sticky note that says HE/HIM in all caps AND they asked my preferred name on day 1

and not once the whole time have i been gendered or named correctly even once. by the nicest people in the world. genuinely i think its because the main nurse is one million years old and like. not really entirely all there . imo . but still like thats crazy idc if i get deadnamed or misgendered or whatev but like at least dont ask me if ur not gonna care LOL

[nonbinary-witch-sam]

.

[reasoningdaily]

My former U.S. Track and Field teammate Tori Bowie, who was found dead in her home in Florida on May 2, of complications related to childbirth at 8 months pregnant, was a beautiful runner. She was effortless. At the Rio Olympics, I ran the second leg of the 4 x 100 relay. Tori was the anchor. When she got the baton, I remember thinking, “it’s over.” She just accelerated. When she crossed the finish line, I couldn’t wait to run over to her to celebrate. It was her first, and only, Olympic gold medal.

She also picked up a silver (in the 100-m) and bronze (200-m) in Brazil. The next year, at the 2017 World Championships in London, Tori won the 100-m title, earning the title of “world’s fastest woman.” Tori started out as a long jumper. So seeing her thrive as a sprinter was a huge deal. She was just such a bright light, and people were getting to see that.

Tori grew up in Mississippi and had this huge Southern accent. She didn’t take herself too seriously. You felt this sense of ease when you were around her. I last saw her in early 2021, in San Diego, where she was training. She gave me the biggest hug; something about her spirit was just very, very sweet. I felt her sweetness come over me that day.

Tori was 32 when she died. According to the autopsy, possible complications contributing to Bowie’s death included respiratory distress and eclampsia—seizures brought on by preeclampsia, a high blood pressure disorder that can occur during pregnancy. I developed preeclampsia during my pregnancy with my daughter Camryn, who was born in November 2018. The doctors sent me to the hospital, where I would deliver Camryn during an emergency C-section, at 32 weeks. I was unsure if I was going to make it. If I was ever going to hold my precious daughter.

Like so many Black women, I was unaware of the risks I faced while pregnant. According to the CDC, in 2021 the maternal mortality rate for Black women was 2.6 times the rate for white women. About five days before I gave birth to Camryn, I was having Thanksgiving dinner with my family. I mentioned that my feet were swollen. As we went around the table, the women shared their experiences during pregnancy. My cousin said she also had swollen feet. My mom didn’t. Not once did someone say, ‘oh, well, that’s one of the indicators of preeclampsia.’ None of us knew. When I became pregnant, my doctor didn’t sit me down and tell me, ‘these are things that you should look for in your pregnancy, because you are at a greater risk to experience these complications.’

That needs to change, now, especially in light of Tori’s tragic passing. Awareness is huge. Serena Williams had near-death complications during her pregnancy. Beyoncé developed preeclampsia. I hate that it takes Tori’s situation to put this back on the map and to get people to pay attention to it. But oftentimes, we need that wake-up call.

The medical community must do its part. There are so many stories of women dying who haven’t been heard. Doctors really need to hear the pain of Black women.

Luckily, there’s hope on several fronts. Congress has introduced the Momnibus Act, a package of 13 bills crafted to eliminate racial disparities in maternal health and improve outcomes across the board. California passed Momnibus legislation back in 2021. These laws make critical investments in areas like housing, nutrition, and transportation for underserved communities. Further, several pharmaceutical companies are making advances on early detection and treatment of preeclampsia.

Three gold medalists from that 4 x 100 relay team in Rio set out to become mothers. All three of us—all Black women—had serious complications. Tianna Madison has shared that she went into labor at 26 weeks and entered the hospital “with my medical advance directive AND my will.” Tori passed away. We’re dealing with a Black Maternal Health crisis. Here you have three Olympic champions, and we’re still at risk.

I would love to have another child. That’s something that I know for sure. But will I be here to raise that child? That’s a very real concern. And that’s a terrifying thing. This is America, in 2023, and Black women are dying while giving birth. It’s absurd.

I’m hopeful that things can get better. I’m hopeful that Tori, who stood on the podium at Rio, gold around her neck and sweetness in her soul, won’t die in vain.

—as told to Sean Gregory

[pomefioredove]

nightmares

summary: some chars I think would take care of a reader who has nightmares type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, vil, lilia, silver, malleus additional info: reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, this is self indulgent lol, platonic or romantic, not proofread, maybe a little ooc for a few ones

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

he initially assumes you're just staying up to slack off

you are friends with Ace and Deuce, after all

it takes a good scolding from him before you sheepishly admit that you've been having nightmares and thus losing sleep

now, Riddle comes from a family of doctors. he's no psychiatrist, but surely he can find a way to help you sleep despite it, right?

he tries everything- chamomile tea, weighted blankets, he even turned a blind eye when Ace and Deuce "borrow" a sleeping potion from the lab

nothing works

of course, this drives him mad. it seems like such a simple problem, and yet your body resists everything

your grades are suffering, and even worse, you seem like a walking corpse

he takes it upon himself to find a solution no matter what

and, of course, you have nothing to lose, so you indulge him

nothing medical or magical helps

eventually, he picks up a big psychology book and gets to work on the last thing he can think of

suddenly you're having tea and "talk time" with him twice a week at 4 PM sharp

turns out he kinda likes playing therapist

and if you're late to an appointment, it's off with your head

now you're starting to regret being his guinea pig, as thankful as you are

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

you can't what?

sleep?

you can't sleep?

he laughs right to your face, much to your annoyance

who can't sleep? it's easy!

you begrudgingly explain your nightmare problem and he finally shuts up (for once)

after a long silence, he grunts something about learning from the master

big surprise, all of his "master lessons" just mean he gets to use you as a body pillow while you watch

very helpful.

eventually, as much as you hate to admit it, it starts to help

having something soft and warm protectively wrapped around you is as comfortable as it gets

you start managing to sleep through the day undisturbed

then nights

Leona boasts to everyone about fixing their beloved prefect's problem, but even after you're well rested, he's still dragging you back to his favorite nap spots

turns out he doesn't mind the company so much, either

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

"those eyebags are just dreadful, prefect,"

always perceptive and eternally critical

(AKA he's worried)

he knows right off the bat that something's up, but he doesn't press for answers until you come to him yourself

as tempted as he is to step in, he doesn't want to pressure you to share something you don't want to

he accepts your pleas for help (he's worried) simply because he doesn't want your performance to suffer (he's soooo worried)

he starts out through traditional means- teas, oils, setting your routine to perfection- and eventually starts brewing potions for you

only one per week, he doesn't want you to become reliant

and the side effects can be... a little disruptive

one morning you spontaneously collapse in his arms on the way to your first class

he has to drag you back to Ramshackle to rest, despite your insistence

eventually, he eases you into talking about the dreams

he's there to comfort you about them, someone to lean on (though just for you)

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫

I mean... it's Silver

poor guy probably stumbled into one of your terrifying nightmares by accident

after that he started trying to subtly guide your dreams back to normal

when he gets to, of course

you're not even aware of it in your waking life, and he has no intentions of making his good deed known

it does give him the tiniest sense of accomplishment, though

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚

similarly to Silver, he's got a thing with sleep

his beloved prefect isn't sleeping well because of nightmares? he wants to help!

(please let him help)

he definitely won't let you refuse out of humility or embarrassment

he'll get you to rest and make sure all of your dreams are pleasant at no cost!

(AKA at the low, low cost of getting to see you so cute in your sleep. you're like a cat to him)

he will never not be fascinated by you

he's so pleased about being your unconscious protector; it makes him feel so wanted

his cute little child of man!

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞

Lilia is no stranger to bad dreams

he's lived a long time; he's seen some things

every once in a while he, too, wakes up covered in sweat and tears

he can't help but feel a sense of longing when you describe your situation

you poor little thing!

right away he offers to keep watch over you, as if guarding you from an unseen enemy force

he's up most of the time, anyway

watching you is no problem!

you think that sounds reasonable enough

by night two you wake up in the early morning with his arms around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck

little bastard is definitely stealing your body heat

you don't say anything, though- you haven't had a nightmare since

(and neither has he)

[eternally-racing]

keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

----

Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent. 

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?”  Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it. 

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit. 

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways. 

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that. 

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl. 

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well. 

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin.  “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?” 

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that. 

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you. 

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”  

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both. 

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.” 

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries. 

 Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up. 

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

---

author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist

[nurse-floyd]

Let me set the scene:

It's the Vegas Grand Prix, 2023. Lando has his crash, is high as a bloody kite in the hospital. Lando sees his nurse and I'd convinced he's dead bc 'why else would there be a legit angel?'

This is super short and silly but I absolutely adore this request! Thank you <3

P.S. I also love this and it is possibly one of my favourite photos of him! Boy is high as balls.

The red emergency phone rang, signaling an incoming ambulance, and you answered it with a sigh. "Mercy General Emergency Department," you answered as you clicked your pen and got the handover sheet ready to write down the patient information.

"Male…24…high-speed crash into a wall," you repeated back to dispatch that alerted you to the incoming patient, hating that you’d be spending what was left of your shift dealing with someone’s drunken antics or stupidity that had crashed them into a wall.

"How fast was he going?" you asked, not expecting the answer.

"180."

"Come again? 180mph and he’s still alive?" you repeated, not being able to hide the shock. "Do we need blood? X-Ray? Trauma surgeons and blood on standby? No one has called ahead." You suddenly woke up from the usual lull you felt around this time during your shift, your mind suddenly in full trauma mode.

"No, just precautionary checks. Patient is a Formula One driver and has been cleared by track medics, but they want a second opinion at the hospital and some scans in case."

Then it hit you…you followed F1 and had done for a few years. You’d been following the race on your phone during your breaks and knew Lando had crashed out during turn 14.

"Okay. Thank you, have you got an ETA?"

Dispatch relayed the time of arrival that gave you enough time to announce it over the tannoy and for your team to gather in one of the trauma rooms. You also called in security because you knew the press would be vultures all over this.

With the trauma room ready, you all waited for the arrival of your VIP patient. If you were being truthful, you were a little nervous at meeting one of your celebrity crushes but also knew you needed to keep it professional. What you didn’t expect was the goofy look on Lando’s face as he was wheeled on a stretcher into the room.

As soon as the paramedic crew had handed over and you’d transferred him over to the bed, you began attaching him to monitors and got your list of investigations and tests you’d need to perform from the doctor in charge.

The paramedics had clearly dosed him up with the good meds as he stirred in and out of consciousness, his eyes glassy and the goofy smile still plastered on his face every time his eyes met yours.

You woke him up once again, ready to check his pupils and GCS once more when he was a little more alert than he’d been since he arrived.

"Woah…am I dead?" his voice came out slightly slurred.

"The heart monitor beeping next to you would say otherwise," you laughed in reply.

"Are you sure, because why else would an actual angel be standing in front of me right now?"

You couldn’t help another laugh that escaped your lips as you watched him try to focus on you.

"And that would be the morphine," you fiddled with his IV and checked the fluids running before you input a few more things on his chart.

“I don’t think it is…” he slurred once more, “I know an angel when I see one.”

You were about to reply when you looked up from his chart and saw he’d fallen asleep, his head against his chest. You got up from your seat and adjusted his pillows so his neck wouldn’t be even more painful in the morning.

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (2/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

-> PART ONE OF EMERGENCY CONTACT

Summary: You never expected Simon to come to your aid, and Simon assures you that he would come every single time.

A/N: I genuinely appreciate the support of this concept <3 I truly did not expect so many people to want a part two, so here it is! please rb with what you think, i love to hear y’all’s thoughts! i’m honestly not the happiest with this, but i did what i could. i may rewrite this in the future.

[WARNINGS: Hospital setting, fluff, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, ooc Simon.]

IT TAKES YOU FOUR DAYS to wake up. Four entire days for you to even move an eye muscle. Four days of anxiety, of Simon lying in wait, waiting for sign of life. Despite the doctors’ assurances of your condition, the confirmed brain activity, Simon was panicking.

He just couldn’t lose you, too. Not when he has such a great thing going for him, so when he learns you’re in a mini coma—induced by your own body to allow your body to rest and heal, he can’t help but freak out. His mind screaming that you’ll never wake up, that you’ll always by lying in a hospital bed, until someone in your family decides to come and pull the plug. He tried to keep himself preoccupied—he read books and articles on his phone, memorized each time the nurses came in to check your vitals, he even texted Price an update about his situation—it wasn’t much information, but he said something along the lines of something happened at home and he thinks his leave with have to be for a month, but there’s a good chance it might be longer.

Simon barely left the room—he couldn’t. Not when at any moment you could wake up, or any moment you could’ve died. He didn’t manage much sleep, either. Every time he managed to fall asleep, the same nightmare would play; what he imagined how your accident went. He imagined you walking down on the sidewalk towards the crosswalk down a street you both frequented together. You were always careful when walking—he knew you were having car troubles for the last few weeks. You press the button on the crosswalk pole to trigger the lights to turn red. Cars slow to a stop, and your crosswalk signs turns to a walking man. You quickly hurry across the crosswalk, but a car comes speeding down—and smashes right into you, full speed, sending you across the road. Simon is just standing there, watching. Completely unable to help. He always wakes up once he walks up to your mangled body.

Simon gasps quietly and jolts awake again, blinking the bleariness away, and the slow beeps and exhales of your machines come back. His rapid heartbeat begins to slow as he realizes that he’s still beside your hospital bed. He looks at you—you’re no longer on a ventilator, but you have an oxygen mask, a way to help your collapsed lung. It makes him feel a bit better, but Simon would very much prefer your eyes to be open, your fingers moving against the blanket you’d likely hate the texture of when you woke up—if you woke up—and he would want to feel your muscles moving under your skin. He also tries to ignore the fear of you having Amnesia after waking up.

Simon isn’t sure when he laid his head back down, but it shoots back up the second he hears a quiet noise escape you—it’s the first sign of life to Simon, his wide eyes scanning your body. His eyes fly to your hand, your fingers twitching a bit. Simon grabs ahold of your twitching hand immediately and looks at your face and he isn’t so sure why his heart is pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t have too much time to focus on it as your arm twitches. It’s like you’re slowly coming back to life in a weird way, but Simon finds himself totally silent, like he can’t find the right words to say just yet. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he does as he watches your shoulder twitch next, and then your eyebrows furrow. Your eyes are already closed, but you squeeze your eyelids together harder. Simon realizes that you haven’t had your eyes open for about four days, so he quickly dims the rooms lights and returns right back next to you. Simon reaches for your hand and gently holds it, watching you slowly get your surroundings.

Your eye flutter open slowly and you blink, and it’s obvious you don’t immediately process that you’re in the hospital. A croaky moan of discomfort leaves you and Simon sits up, the worry eating at his stomach. You look at Simon with unfocused and exhausted eyes and your eyebrows furrow again and your lips part.

“..Simon?”

He releases the breath he was holding and he nods, his black mask slightly moving as his lips move. “I’m right here, [name]. Right here.” Simon absolutely hates how shaky his voice is, and he watches you bit your lip as your eyes begin to fill with tears. His heart skips a beat—what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Simon decides he needs to know because he can fix it, he can help you, right? He needs to fix it—“Y.. You came for me..” You whisper, blinking a tear rolls down your cheek to your jaw quickly. Simon’s own eyebrows furrowed—did you think he wouldn’t? “Of course I did, love.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will always come for you.” You try to hold in the quiet sob, but your shoulders begin to shake. Simon reaches up and gently wipes away a tear with his thumb while he squeezes your hand. “No tears now, hm? You’ve.. You’ve survived the impossible.” Simon says, forcing his voice to be steady. His eyes begin to burn with his own set of tears forming. “I came as soon as I heard, [name]. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t come for you.“

Your lower lip curls as you try to not cry from his sentiment; this is the man who took you in after losing everything, and it took him a long while to even let you know of his actual name, let alone see his face unmasked. This is the man who does not tell you the details of his job, but you know that he could be killed from it. This is the man who sits next to you near his windowsill when you both can’t sleep—the man who wakes up, just knowing something is up. He makes you a cup of your favorite morning drink whenever he can, he signs his sticky notes with a poorly drawn skull instead of his name, he makes piss poor dad and army type jokes, annoys you with his cockiness and bought you a damn mattress and bed-frame—even thought he never had to. He remembers the little things about you, your favorite shows and games—your favorite books, your favorite foods, hell, he remembers every little awful story about your workplace and your job. He’s always been like a wild animal—you come too close and he flees, but if you’re patient do what he needs, he’ll come to you.

Simon blinks away the tears and he clears his throat, his voice hesitant as he speaks. “You made me your emergency contact.” His tone isn’t questioning or warbling in any way—he says it like a statement, a fact, which it is. You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a grimace, causing Simon’s thumb to stop moving over your knuckles for a moment. Of course any movement or sound would hurt. “I.. I had to put one down, I just.. put the first person who came to mind.. Y’know?” You murmured nervously. Simon’s breath hitches for a moment and he only responds with a “mmh” for the time being, which definitely makes you way more nervous than you started out to feel. Your heart monitor spikes for a moment, causing Simon to speak up. “Hey—just relax, okay? M’not mad, love. Not mad at all,” He begins. He glances away from you for a moment before looking back with such a vulnerable look—like he’ll break at any moment. “It was just.. a surprise. That’s all.” But both of you know it was more than just a surprise. It was a small declaration of prioritizing each other—you setting him as the first person to be notified for an emergency, and his acceptance of this role. Simon never thought he would be sitting here, beside anyone else than his teammates in a hospital setting.

Simon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you. Whether it was the first moment he laid eyes on you or way later down the road—he doesn’t know. What he does know is that this.. feeling, isn’t as scary as it used to be. People getting close to him used to terrify him and it still does—but.. there’s something about you. Something about you that makes Simon feel safe. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to sit in the corner to watch the entire room, you make him feel like he doesn’t have to sleep with a hunting knife stashed under his pillow. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to question your motives with anything you do, you make Simon feel like he can just sit down and relax without having to worry about, well.. anything else besides from the question of what you’ll have for dinner that night. He tries to hold in the shuddery breath and when he can’t, his eyes dart away to your arm. You open your lips to speak again, but you begin to cough. Simon grabs the paper cup of water that has a straw in it that he’s prepared for you everyday just in case you had woken up and he slots the straw between your lips, which you greedily accept and drink down the cold water. It soothes the ache in your throat from being on the ventilator and from not speaking for a couple of days. Once you’re satisfied, he places the cup back on the side table. “Hey, Si,” You croak, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand. Simon’s eyes immediately meet yours again, searching for any hint of pain. You lick your lips, a light smile coming to them. “Two blondes walk into a bar. You’d think one of ‘em would’ve seen it.” He stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising. “Did.. Did you just..” You laugh weakly and nod, looking at him. “I did.” You clear your throat again and squeeze his fingers. “Did it because you’re in your head.. Don’t hafta think so.. so much when you’re with me, Simon.”

Simon brushes his thumb over your knuckles once again and he can’t help but silently agree—he doesn’t have to think about anything right now, he can just sit here, with you—even if it’s in a place like this, with you in a condition like that. Simon looks at you and you look back at him, into his soul—and for the first time, he doesn’t want to look away.

taglist;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja @cumikering @silent-neptune @purechaosss @hauntedpass @mxtokko @meimhem [crossed out = not able to tag sorry!]

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 2)

Part one here

Okay, so that's how I think the pre-creation scene and Gabriel's arc connect to Aziraphale's choice. I also think the ineffable bureaucracy speedrun exists to prove totally different things to Aziraphale and Crowley: Aziraphale loves that they can love each other but notes they have to run away to be together; Crowley sees this and immediately thinks "hey, we can do that too!", forgetting that running away is not a solution Aziraphale has ever been interested in. It's the mentality of an individualist vs a group-oriented mind, and neither of them is necessarily wrong, it's just that their priorities are different and they HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT, which they don't.

Continued analysis under the cut:

3. Let's take the Job minisode. Why include it? We already mentioned that it proves Aziraphale remembers Crowley as an angel, since he mentions it. And he believes Crowley is the same person he always was, and that he doesn't want to harm Job's crops or animals or children. Crowley tries to convince him he's a Big Bad Demon who is all in on this assignment, but fails utterly to kill even a single goat, soooo... Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that he knows what Crowley wants. Alert! Alert! This is a big problem! Crowley says, "What do you know about what I want?" Aziraphale: "I know you." Crowley: "You do not know me." But because Aziraphale got it right this time, he goes ahead assuming he'll always get it right, which is a crucial failure when it comes to the final reckoning. He doesn't ever ASK Crowley what he wants, he just assumes. When you assume you know what someone wants, you usually assume their priorities align with yours... he couldn't be more wrong about that. The Job minisode sets up this dynamic for them, and they never really manage to change it.

The other thing happens at the end of the minisode. Crowley acknowledges two crucial points: 1) he's lonely ("But you said it wasn't!" "I'm a demon. I lied"), 2) he doesn't think Aziraphale would like Hell. Aziraphale DOESN'T like Hell. Aziraphale hates Hell for what they've done to Crowley. He doesn't see Heaven as innocent or benign, but importantly, Heaven has never tried to hurt Crowley directly. They never threatened his safety. They never tortured him (as it's heavily implied that Hell did). Fast forward to the last ten mins of season 2: Aziraphale excited to tell Crowley that he can be an angel again BECAUSE: he never has to go back to Hell. They can never hurt him again, not the way they did before. And he doesn't have to be lonely anymore.

Last point before I leave Job: Crowley has the chance to cause Aziraphale to Fall, here, probably. ("I lied to Heaven to thwart the will of God!" "You did, but I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you? ...good, then nothing has to change.") He doesn't take it. He doesn't want Aziraphale to be a demon. He loves Aziraphale as he is. "Angel" as an affectionate. Aziraphale certainly doesn't use "demon" as a pet name for Crowley. I think they set up this scene to contrast the final one, and show how deeply hurt Crowley is that Aziraphale suggest he change.

4. Moving on to Victorian Scotland. This one confused me at first. I was delighted that they brought back the "the lower you start the more opportunity you have to rise" dialogue from the book, but apart from that I didn't really see the point of it. It seems like the statue of Gabriel and the fact that he and Beelz ended up at that pub in the present were more or less coincidental.

The point, I think, is actually not the girl, but the doctor. He's a person who is trying to do good by working in a system that's deeply flawed, and engaging in questionable moral practices for the greater good. (Cadaver dissection is still an essential part of medical school. You need dead bodies to understand living ones.) He shows Aziraphale a tumor he removed from a child who died, and Aziraphale clutches it to his chest. The camera zooms in and lingers to tell us that this is a guardian through and through. He wants to protect people. He wants to do good with every fiber of his being.

To Crowley, it's enough to just "be an us" with Aziraphale. He doesn't really want anything more than that. That's an issue! For one thing, it fosters unhealthy codependency, and for another, Aziraphale would never be happy without the opportunity to help and protect people. It's an essential part of who he is. Metatron knows that, and he plays Aziraphale like a fiddle. The doctor showed Aziraphale that you can make a difference even in systems that are flawed, and even if you have to do things you'd rather not do. Aziraphale doesn't want to go back to Heaven, but he truly thinks he can change things; thinks he can be a guardian with some real power. In his mind, that's the right thing to do.

Last thing that happens in Scotland: Crowley saves a soul from Hell, arguably, by preventing a suicide. He gets in Big Trouble. Whatever happened to him downstairs resulted in him coming back up, leaning on a cane, and asking Aziraphale to give him holy water. Go back and watch that scene knowing what we know now about the Victorian minisode. Ask yourself how Aziraphale must have felt. He likely blamed himself for what happened, because if he hadn't meddled then they never would have been there in the first place. He knew where Crowley was, and why he was there, and he had to sit with that knowledge for years. He desperately wants Crowley to be safe; is perfectly willing to push him away to keep him safe-- which is what he does do, the minute Crowley gets back.

Now think again about what Metatron offered him. A chance to keep Crowley safe forever. He'd never be harmed again. Aziraphale is going to take that offer, no matter what else is asked of him. He's shown over and over again that he'll sacrifice his own happiness to make sure nothing happens to Crowley. And he'll do it without talking to Crowley about it first, because he is a moron who doesn't know how to use his words. Leading Crowley to assume that Aziraphale doesn't love him. The idiot angel is doing it all out of love, but because he doesn't make himself clear Crowley doesn't know that.

Part 3: Maggie and Nina, and their roles as mirror couple/ Greek chorus!

[russellsppttemplates]

Part-time driver, part-time nurse (Charles Leclerc)

Charles spends his off season nursing you back to health

Note: english is not my first language. This is the opportunity to showcase all of my Grey's Anatomy knowledge 😅 jokes aside, this really is knowledge that I have from medical shows and a little research, so the accuracy might not be on point! It was inspired by this blurb!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: reader has a surgery (cholecystectomy), hospitals, medications, mild mention of sex

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"It's really painful, Charles", you groaned, finding a position in bed where you'd be a little bit more comfortable. You had a good pain tolerance and hated hospitals, so when he heard you say those words, he knew well enough that your pain had to be through the roof.

"Let's put this on and then we go to the hospital, okay amour?", he suggested soflty, prepared to gently force you in case you resisted. This was not an okay situation and even though you didn't like the setting, they would be the ones able to help you

"I need your help", you admitted, allowing Charles to lift your torso and dress you with one of his zip up hoodies, "Good, that's good, amour", he cooed, supporting your body on his as you walked out of the flat and into the garage.

"Am I hurting you?", he asked as he lowered your body into the passenger seat, "no, it comes and goes in waves, but it's still at the same place, right here", you winced as you showed him, pointing to your upper abdomen and then your back.

Charles drove to the hospital, his hand holding yours so you could squeeze anytime you needed, "you can park there already, I can walk to the door", you mumbled, "are you sure?", he checked, "yes, handsome", you smiled faintly.

The hospital wasn't too busy since visiting hours had ended a while ago, so Charles parked fairly close to the door, "up, gently, good", he helped you out and locked the car, looking at your face when he heard you laugh.

"We were so busy that I didn't even notice I have my slippers on still", you showed him the fluffy beige footwear, "I think it's trendy, you are going to set a new fashion", he said as you walked to the door of the emergency room.

After being escorted to a bed, a doctor came up to meet you, "Hi, I'm Dr. Richard and I'll be your doctor this evening", he said, greeting you and Charles, "Ms. Y/L/N, it says here you have pain in your abdomen", he stated as waited for your clarification.

"Yes, especially around here", you pointed to the upper right section, "at first it was just here, but then it spread to my back. I wouldn't have come in if it wasn't really impossible to go about my day with it", you sighed as the doctor typed away on his tablet.

"I'm going to do an ultrasound on you", he said as he pulled the kart with the machine closer to the bed, the nurse adjusting the drip he put in your arm with pain medication, "you seem to have cholecystitis, which is when your gallbladder is very inflamed and it causes pain. This ultrasound should let us know quickly if this is the case", he said as you lifted your top, wincing at the cold gel as the doctor moved the wand around.

"See this right here?", Dr. Richard pointed to the screen, "it's your gallbladder, and it is definitely inflamed. The course of treatment is surgically removing it", he explained, grabbing a towell to clean off the excess product from your skin.

"Surgery?", Charles questioned, worry sketched in his eyes, "yes, we do it laparascopically, just a few small incisions on your abdomen. It's very simple, you'll be able to go home tomorrow afternoon if we do the surgery in the morning", he said

"Okay, then. Sounds good", you spoke, "anything to take this pain away", you said, holding Charles' hand in your own.

"This is Dr. Pavard, she's one of my surgical interns", he said as a young woman approached your bed, greeting you, "she'll be the one to take you up to your room, she'll take some samples to make sure everything else is good for surgery and we'll do it tomorrow morning", he smiled, excusing himself as he was being paged to another case.

"Can I go with her?", Charles wondered, as the intern looked a little uneasy on her answer, "I'll have to talk to my superiors about it, but you can go up to the room until I figure it out. How does that sound?", she stated and you both nodded, your boyfriend grabbing your bag and walking behind her as she wheeled you along the corridor into the elevator, not missing the double checks some patients and hospital staff gave him.

After drawing the samples she needed, the intern left you and Charles in the room, "how are you feeling, amour?", he asked, holding your hand between his and kissing your fingertips, "I'm fine, the pain meds are working wonders", you sighed, "not my plans for the next few days to have surgery, but it's for the best", you reasoned.

"Do you think they'll let me stay with you?", Charles wondered, "I'm not sure, Charles. They have very strict rules. Joris said one of his cousins couldn't have anyone with her when she was admitted", you shrugged, "it would be nice having you here, but let's not get our hopes up", you attempted.

After telling you all your labs checked out and you'd be having surgery in the morning, Dr. Richard excused himself and spoke to the nurses outside of the room, "I'm going to the bathroom, and I don't need help", you looked at your boyfriend who looked like a puppy you had kicked out in the street.

When you came out, Charles was closing the door behind him, a smile on his lips as he looked at you, "where did you go? I didn't even take that long in there", you quirked an eyebrow at him, "Oh, they told you you have to leave?".

"I spoke to Dr. Richard", he said with a smirk on his lips, "I'm staying!".

"Charles!", you sterned, "you know you shouldn't pull the card at these things!", you reasoned despite feeling a little bit more at ease that you'd have him with you the whole time.

"I didn't pull any card or any strings!", Charles defended himself, "I went up to him and asked if there was a chance, because I'd be here first thing in the morning anyway, and he said he had already asked one of the nurses to get me a pillow and a blanket for that sofa, that apparently turns into a bed if I want it to", he shrugged his shoulders, "I wasn't going to say no".

Despite shaking your head at him, you were grateful that he also wanted to stay with you, "sometimes I forget that I'm dating the principality's pride child", you teased him, making room for him in your bed so he could envelop you in your arms, "thank you, though", you kissed his jaw.

"They also assured me that everyone that saw us wouldn't mention this to anyone, so you're safe", he mumbled, kissing your forehead, "now rest, amour, you'll need it before your surgery".

Early in the morning, the surgical team came to the room to take you, not before Charles kissed your lips, "I love you so much, Charles, I'll see you in a bit", you smiled, nodding to the interns who would be wheeling you to the operating room.

About halfway through the procedure, one of the interns came into the room to assure Charles everything was going as it was supposed to, "thank you for letting me know", he said, watching him leave before his phone rang, Pierre's contact name showing on the screen.

"Hey, man! How are you? Me and Francisca are in Monaco for a few days, do you and Y/N want to plan something?", the French man asked over the phone.

"Hey! Y/N's is actually having surgery right now - her gallbladder was giving her trouble so they're taking it out", Charles explained, "we should be going home this afternoon, hopefully, so if you guys don't mind hanging out at our place, it's fine".

"Oh, I hope everything goes well", Pierre said, saying something to who Charles assumed was his girlfriend, "let us know how it goes and we'll go from there, okay? We don't want to bother you even more".

After wishing everything would go well and requesting that Charles let's him know when you were awake, Pierre ended the call and your boyfriend took the opportunity to update your families.

"She's out of the operating room and she's starting to wake up, they will bring her up soon", one of the nurses smiled as Charles nodded, taking a sip from his coffee as he waited for you.

When they wheeled you back into the room, your eyes looked tired but you smiled when you saw him, "everything went as planned, there were no complications, so it should be a smooth recovery. They'll bring your breakfast in a bit and if you can tolerate that and walk just fine, we'll be able to discharge you when your labs come back good!", your surgeon said before excusing himself.

"Hey, bébé", he smiled, kissing your forehead, "how are you feeling?", he asked.

"I'm good, loopy from the meds, but I'm also quite hungry", you giggled, "I'm sorry I caused you to worry", you began.

"It's part of it", he shrugged his shoulders, kissing your hands, "all that matters is that it went well and you're feeling good. My mother says she dropped by our flat and arranged the place a little bit - it wasn't too messy, don't worry - and she also left a pasta bake; your parents are very happy and relieved it went well. Pierre and Kika are in town as well and I told them that if you weren't too tired, they could spend tomorrow with us, but only of you feel up to it!", he was quick to mention.

"That sounds nice!", you nodded, "I haven't seen them in a while", you recalled.

After eating breakfast and walking along the corridor a few times during the day, the doctors discharged you, prescribing the medications you would need and listing the signs you should look out for.

"Here, amour, careful", Charles said as he helped you up the small step to get into your flat, guiding you to the living room where the sofa was packed with blankets and pillows, "Careful, you don't want to hurt your tummy", he ushered as you sat down, kissing the top of your head.

"Charles, love, the incisions are very small, I have to be careful, yes, but if they said that I could come home, it's because I can move still", you giggled, appreciating his attention even though he was being a little over the top, not letting you get up to grab snacks from the kitchen.

"I have grapes for you", he smiled, coming back with a plate for you, "they're full of the good things you have to eat, so your body heals nicely and you feel better", he said, sitting next to you carefully as you took some to eat.

Later, when you wanted to get up, his hand carefully stopped you, "my love, I need to pee, and I'm not even going to let you think of a way to help. I'm just going to the bathroom and I'll be right back", you added.

"I carry you to the bathroom sometimes after we have sex and you can't do it on your own, I can do it now!", he suggested, almost getting up when you threateningly pointed your finger at him, "I'll be quick, Charles!", you smiled.

When you opened the door to get out, Charles was there, "did you wait outside for me?", you quirked your eyebrow, "I did! I didn't want something to happen to you!", he reasoned, "now you have to drink some water to make sure everything is functioning well, and your meds, too!".

Shaking your head at his worry and dedication, you couldn't help but smile, "I love you, Charles, and as much as I'm a little annoyed at the fact that you're my shadow, I must admit I love having you here with me everyday", you smiled, kissing his cheek and then his lips, "I love you, amour, I just want you to be well".

When the next morning came around, Charles guided you to the living room again, making breakfast for you as you sent a few work e-mails explaining what was happening and why you had to take a few days off when a text from Francisca popped up in your phone, saying they were at the door.

Texting her the code to enter the building, you got up to open the door, figuring you would take the same amount of time until they knocked.

"Hi! Quick, quick, quick, before Charles sees I'm up from the sofa", you ushered them to the living room right as Charles was coming out of the kitchen with your breakfast.

"I saw you, Y/N", he sterned as he shook his head, "you cannot stay still, can you, woman?", he teased, setting the tray on the coffee table and chasing you as you hid beside Pierre, "we've been friends for nearly as long a time as I've been Charles' friend, Gasly, don't gang up on me now!", you attempted as Charles picked you up gently, "hey!".

"You had surgery, Y/N", Pierre began, "if he didn't do it, I would do it myself", he snickered as you showed him the middle finger.

"How are you feeling, though?", Francisca asked once you were all sat on the big sofa, "comparing to the pain I had, I'm great, I swear I never felt pain like it", you answered, taking a sip from your tea and cutting the toast Charles made for you.

"You have a full on breakfast here", Pierre pointed out, "of course we have! Y/N needs to replenish and eat so she can heal", Charles stated.

"Anyone who hears him thinks I've had a whole things done to me and what I had it's pretty common", you giggled, "still, I don't mind the attention", you said as you kissed his cheek while Pierre pretend to barf on the side of your sofa.

[pastel-clown-friends]

Alright yall!

Want art for the low low price of money?

Maybe also help a disabled queer artist see their partner for the first time?

So I have been saving up money for quite a while now, I think about 10 months. My partner is visiting me from Germany for the first time ever in about a month and a half, and I had a pretty sizeable pile of money. I had like $1,500 set aside but then got absolutely smacked by medical bills.

I have hyperthyroidism, and that requires a very expensive pile of medicine and doctor appointments. So I kinda... had to spend all of my savings on that...

So I would really really appreciate your help!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I do stained glass art! It's a little niche I've carved that I absolutely love to make.

Usually, anywhere around $60-120

There are some of my full body pieces!

Around $40-$60 (multiple characters and backgrounds may add more to the price)

And here are some half body examples!

Around $20-$40 (multiple characters and backgrounds may add more to the price)

Icons and sketch commissions are usually anywhere from $10-$25 but rarely are more than $15.

Rules and Will/Won't Draw under the Cut!

Some basic rules!!

☆-I can only accept payment through Cashapp and PayPal, I do not accept Discord Nitro, Robux, Clippy, or anything like that. I sadly can't pay my bills with that.

☆- My prices are based off of complexity of the piece rather than character count. Icons, sketch commissions, and headshots will be the cheapest and fully shaded fully body will be priced more highly.

☆- While I do offer NSFW art, I will need you to confirm your age in some way, as I WILL NOT draw anything lewd or suggestive for minors.

I will draw:

Fandoms

Ocs

Canon x Ocs

Furries

Animals

Light gore

NSFW (must verify age)

Can replicate the styles of some games and shows

I will/can not draw:

Highly detailed Mecha

Vehicles

Realistic art

Political anything

Hate art of any kind

Heavy gore

Other indie artist's styles

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Chloe Cole

Published: July 28, 2023

On Thursday, her 19th birthday, Chloe Cole testified to Congress with a “final warning” that medical treatments to change the gender of confused children is horrific. Cole, who was given surgery as a teenager to become male and soon regretted it, said what she needed most was therapy, not a scalpel. Here is what she told lawmakers:

My name is Chloe Cole and I am a de-transitioner.

Another way to put that would be: I used to believe that I was born in the wrong body and the adults in my life, whom I trusted, affirmed my belief, and this caused me lifelong, irreversible harm. 

I speak to you today as a victim of one of the biggest medical scandals in the history of the United States of America. 

I speak to you in the hope that you will have the courage to bring the scandal to an end, and ensure that other vulnerable teenagers, children and young adults don’t go through what I went through. 

Deceit & coercion 

At the age of 12, I began to experience what my medical team would later diagnose as gender dysphoria.

I was well into an early puberty, and I was very uncomfortable with the changes that were happening to my body. I was intimidated by male attention. 

And when I told my parents that I felt like a boy, in retrospect, all I meant was that I hated puberty, that I wanted this newfound sexual tension to go away.

I looked up to my brothers a little bit more than I did to my sisters. 

I came out as transgender in a letter I sent on the dining room table.

My parents were immediately concerned.

They felt like they needed to get outside help from medical professionals. 

But this proved to be a mistake.

It immediately set our entire family down a path of ideologically motivated deceit and coercion.

The general specialist I was taken to see told my parents that I needed to be put on puberty-blocking drugs right away. 

They asked my parents a simple question: Would you rather have a dead daughter or a living transgender son? 

The choice was enough for my parents to let their guard down, and in retrospect, I can’t blame them.

This is the moment that we all became victims of so-called gender-affirming care.

I was fast-tracked onto puberty blockers and then testosterone. 

The resulting menopausal-like hot flashes made focusing on school impossible.

I still get joint pains and weird pops in my back.

But they were far worse when I was on the blockers. 

Forever changed 

A month later, when I was 13, I had my first testosterone injection.

It has caused permanent changes in my body: My voice will forever be deeper, my jawline sharper, my nose longer, my bone structure permanently masculinized, my Adam’s apple more prominent, my fertility unknown. 

I look in the mirror sometimes, and I feel like a monster.

I had a double mastectomy at 15.

They tested my amputated breasts for cancer.

That was cancer-free, of course; I was perfectly healthy.

There is nothing wrong with my still-developing body, or my breasts other than that, as an insecure teenage girl, I felt awkward about it.

After my breasts were taken away from me, the tissue was incinerated — before I was able to legally drive. 

I had a huge part of my future womanhood taken from me.

I will never be able to breastfeed.

I struggle to look at myself in the mirror at times.

I still struggle to this day with sexual dysfunction.

And I have massive scars across my chest and the skin grafts that they used, that they took of my nipples, are weeping fluid today, and they’re grafted into a more masculine positioning, they said. 

After surgery, my grades in school plummeted.

Everything that I went through did nothing to address the underlying mental health issues that I had.

And my doctors with their theories on gender that all my problems would go away as soon as I was surgically transformed into something that vaguely resembled a boy — their theories were wrong.

The drugs and surgeries changed my body, but they did not and could not change the basic reality that I am, and forever will be, a female. 

Depths of despair 

When my specialists first told my parents they could have a dead daughter or a live transgender son, I wasn’t suicidal.

I was a happy child who struggled because she was different. 

However at 16, after my surgery, I did become suicidal.

I’m doing better now, but my parents almost got the dead daughter promised to them by my doctors.

My doctor had almost created the very nightmare they said they were trying to avoid. 

So what message do I want to bring to American teenagers and their families?

I didn’t need to be lied to.

I needed compassion.

I needed to be loved. 

I needed to be given therapy that helped me work through my issues, not affirmed my delusion that by transforming into a boy, it would solve all my problems. 

We need to stop telling 12-year-olds that they were born wrong, that they are right to reject their own bodies and feel uncomfortable with their own skin. 

We need to stop telling children that puberty is an option, that they can choose what kind of puberty they will go through, just like they can choose what clothes to wear or what music to listen to. 

Pseudoscience 

Puberty is a rite of passage to adulthood, not a disease to be mitigated.

Today, I should be at home with my family celebrating my 19th birthday.

Instead, I’m making a desperate plea to my elected representatives.

Learn the lessons from other medical scandals, like the opioid crisis. 

Recognize that doctors are human, too, and sometimes they are wrong. 

My childhood was ruined along with thousands of de-transitioners that I know through our networks.

This needs to stop. You alone can stop it. 

Enough children have already been victimized by this barbaric pseudoscience.

Please let me be your final warning. 

Thank you.

Might as well call her a murtad and kufr.

"The medical industry mutilated me, maybe don't mutilate other kids," shouldn't require bravery or renouncing an ideology.

Reminder: A minor under the age of 18 is too young to agree to a cellphone contract. 🤦‍♀️

[penkura]

I'm back with more traffy brainrot.

So I LOVE avatar the last airbender. I was thinking.

What'd happen if law met someone like toph?

Reader is blind. But can see through her feet, the thing is, she's strong on any land but HATES getting on ships because the only thing she sees is the ships interior not the outside which is the ocean, she fears with a little push she MIGHT fall over. Also, when they first met, reader may or may not play the "I'm sorry I'm blind" card and steal a hefty amount from the crew and running away faster than any of them combined lol.

I just imagine reader being innocent until she isn't lmao

I loooove Avatar omg, I still need to sit with my dad and finish the live action Netflix series, but the original series has a special place in my heart. I really liked this prompt, I hope I did it justice for you!!

“I’m sorry, I’m blind.”

Law should’ve realized right away that it would be an excuse the moment he met you. He feels a little stupid now, having you strapped to a chair in front of him and his crew, the very people who tried to be helpful but that you stole from. Shachi questions if you actually are blind, waving his hand in front of your face though you don’t make any movements that you can see his hand moving. Penguin rolls his eyes and tells him to stop, as Law simply sighs over the situation.

You thought it was okay, you thought you’d get away with everything you’d grabbed, you didn’t know what the half of it was. You just snatched whatever seemed valuable and booked it, not caring that there was a feeling of guilt as you ran off that stupid submarine and back onto dry land, at least then you could see everything. You hated that you could only see the inside of that submarine, you didn’t even really want to be there but had flirted enough with one of the crewmembers (poor Hakugan) to get on board, knowing they must have some treasure after hearing they were a pirate crew, especially hearing it was Trafalgar Law’s crew. Even you kept up with the rumors and gossip, you knew he had a decent bounty on him, even at just twenty-one years old.

Your only mistake was staying aboard too late and grabbing his sword as something to sell, of course he’d notice that.

You thought you were fast but somehow he caught up to you, it must be a Devil Fruit you realize quickly. No one on this island could keep up with you even with your visual impairment, Law having powers is the only thing that makes sense.

“Captain, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hakugan,” Law sighs again while his friend hangs his head with a small nod, “If she hadn’t grabbed Kikoku, we wouldn’t have known she’d stolen anything really.”

You tilted your head with your brow furrowed, confused on what he must mean. You had grabbed a ton of things, hadn’t you?

“Yeah,” Penguin laughs, shaking his head, “Grabbing all those medical supplies was a stupid move.”

“Guess it’s not that obvious that our ship has such a big medical ward, huh?”

You feel like an idiot now, embarrassment flooding over you as you listen to them list off what you’d grabbed, apart from Kikoku. Bandages, cough medicine, various medicinal drugs. You though ‘surgeon of death’ was just a moniker, not that Law really is a doctor.

You really wish you would wake up from this nightmare in your bed, you’d completely ignore the people talking about a pirate crew docking at your home island and go about your day. Part of you thinks you should have done that anyway, even when Law dismisses the rest of his crew to speak to you alone.

He's quiet for a bit, just as you are, until he crouches in front of you and sets a hand on your shoulder.

“You wanna explain?”

“…I really am blind.”

“I know that, I don’t doubt your disability,” he’s not like Shachi, questioning your reality or anything, he’s just wondering what your plan was, “I’m talking about stealing from us. If you had known it was mainly medical supplies—”

“I wouldn’t have touched any of it. I wouldn’t have bothered…”

“…so why did you?”

“…you would too to keep your home.”

Ah that’s it, you’re trying to stay in your house. It must be rent or taxes, he’s not sure, but the way you hang your head makes Law start to think.

“No one wants to hire the blind orphan. I’m not worth—”

“I think Ikkaku would be glad to have a roommate. We’ll go get your stuff in the morning and—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

The way you lift and tilt your head, blinking while Law smiles to himself just a bit.

Kind of cute actually.

“You’ll come with us, as payment for trying to steal our supplies and my sword. In the morning, you’ll take us to where you live, we’ll pay what you owe, gather your stuff, and you’ll come with us.”

“Why would you…?”

Law pats your shoulder lightly, you’re not sure why but it gets to you so much you start to cry. He doesn’t even give you a reason, letting you get your feelings out, as you start to nod.

“O-Okay…okay…thank you…”

“You’re welcome.”

You’ll have to apologize to that Hakugan guy later for leading him on like that, but it seems you’ll have plenty of time for that.