#manage blood sugar without medication

[themostlifechangingstuff]

Unlocking the Power of Nature: Ingredients That Control Blood Sugar and Aid Weight Loss

In the dynamic world of health and wellness, the quest for effective solutions to manage blood sugar levels and achieve weight loss goals has never been more pressing. Today, we delve into the realm of natural ingredients, unveiling their potent abilities to support blood sugar control and facilitate weight loss. Join us on this journey as we explore the science behind these remarkable botanicals…

[doberbutts]

Anyway yes, people who can X should be accomodating to people who can't X. People who can walk should accomodate people who can't. People who can hear should accomodate people who can't. People who can see should accomodate people who can't. And on and on. When that doesn't happen, it's a problem that deserves to be talked about.

But the problem is not and has never been "physical disabilities are more important and deserve more accomodations than mental disabilities"- nor the other way around either.

People love to dunk on folks with ADD/ADHD but you know? As someone with ADD raised by diabetic parents I gotta say there's a lot of similarities here. People with ADD, myself included, often forget to eat and when they do eat they often load themselves up with carbs and sugars because those foods make their brains feel good. People with diabetes have to closely monitor their meals and often crave sugars and need a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand. This is not to say ADD and diabetes are exact one-to-one disabilities.

But having grown up watching my parents manage their diabetes, I too am very aware of meal times and blood sugar and constructing meals that will tide you over and having a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand Just In Case. I am able to manage my ADD better in this way because I have experience from watching my parents. I also need access to snacks and to be able to say to my boss "I need to go eat something real fast" without being punished.

I had a training client who was the image of "able bodied mentally ill" outside of the usual creaks and squeaks associated with age, her body worked just fine. But after a series of incidents in her youth- a car accident that left her with a serious brain injury, coming home from the hospital afterwards to immediately have her house broken into and herself raped by an intruder, and assorted medical malpractice while she was healing from both- she has a serious and extreme case of agoraphobia and spent the next 40 years completely unable to leave the house. She would hide and wail and scream when deliveries of groceries and other goods would come, because it meant a stranger (and usually a man) would be at her door. She could not go more than a couple steps outside to get her mail and especially not if other people were outside.

At some point her therapist suggested getting a pet, one that *had* to go outside, to help her. So she got a dog and contacted a trainer (me) and we got to work. And she did improve! The dog has been a huge help to managing her symptoms! But you cannot seriously expect me to have worked with this woman for years and then belittle mental illnesses as being lesser when this woman also shares the inability to even leave her house let alone go inside a grocery store. Even today there are times when she simply cannot, she cannot will her body to move out of her door and into transportation let alone into the building.

When she first started coming to me she thanked me for not belittling her or making her feel bad for classes she had to cancel because she couldn't force herself to take the first step over the threshold. That is when she told me what happened to her and that while it sounds terrible she was really happy to have found a trainer who knew something personal about trauma and brain injuries. She is also a case where I feel her ESA should be considered service dog not because of training or tasking but because her need is so high and she is just completely incapable of doing anything without the dog in her arms.

Anyway I think of her any time someone says "but you can walk through the door". There's nothing wrong with her legs so in theory sure she could. But often she *can't*, not because of anything physical, but because she is very severely mentally ill.

[reiding-writing]

hiii, i hope you're well! i saw that you are taking requests for spencer and i really like your angst fics so i was wondering if you could write one with unrequited love?

preferably bau!reader who has feelings for him but he doesn't and she watches him get with someone else and everybody knows how she feels about him but he is oblivious, ending is up to you but i love me a sad ending heheh 😸

transgression [ s.r ]

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. He’s in love with somebody else.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MAEVE ARC, LOTS of misunderstanding, Spencer is kind of a bad friend, lots of arguing, major character death

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 8.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: sorry for the delay, but i did warn you it was gonna be long so- also i listened to ceilings on repeat whilst writing this so take that as you will 🫶

did i bend the maeve arc to my will for this fic? yes. yes i did.

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @babyspiderling @marsxoxo2 @vytvyvy @hpstuff244444 @frostooo @ohmysw33 @radioactiveinvisible @devilsadvcte @the-local-pendeja @kakashis-formal-simp @robinswrld

You suppose you did it to yourself.

Spencer’s migraines had gotten increasingly worse over the last few months, and after a few consecutive days of hounding him, he’d finally decided to go and see a medical professional about it.

You’d expected him to come back with news about how his brain stem was too active from how hard he was working himself, or that he’d managed to raise his blood pressure to an unhealthy high from all the stress he was under.

Instead he’d told you that they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him and that he’d been referred to a geneticist to check if the cause of his sudden mind-numbing aching was due to an underlying condition that might have been passed down from his mother.

He’d come back and forth to you for weeks about his phone calls with the doctor.

How she was helping him with his sleep deprivation.

How she was helping to manage his diet.

How she loved classic literature.

How she and him had spent four consecutive hours on the phone debating over the logistics of a novel they both enjoyed.

You could see the change happening before your eyes, and you weren’t the only one either.

“Pretty boy’s chipper this morning,” Morgan joins you at the kitchenette, his eyes following Spencer as he takes a seat at his desk with all of the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy who’d been let off his leash for the first time.

You hum with a nod, focusing your attention on the two cups of coffee you were making, heaping tablespoons of sugar into Spencer’s Doctor Who mug to satisfy his insatiable need for sweetness. “They’re reading a book together,”

“Really?” You respond to Morgan’s raised eyebrow with a short nod and another hum.

“Thoughts in Solitude by Thomas Merton, apparently she finds the religious analysis ‘fascinating’,” You can’t help the small contemptment that seeps into your tone as you reiterate what Spencer had told you to Morgan, and you can practically feel his pitiful gaze as he watches you make your coffee.

“I’ve heard of that book before from somewhere,”

“I tried to get him to read it a few months ago,” You take a sip of your coffee at the end of your sentence, barely able to taste it over the scolding water but not finding the mind to care.

You leave your conversation with Morgan at that, taking the two mugs in your hands and walking back into the bullpen, placing Spencer’s mug in front of him and walking around the cluster of desks to reach your own.

He’s sure he doesn’t need to verbalise it, but Morgan feels increasingly sorry for your situation, noting how you skirt past Spencer’s “thank you” without a response as you bury your head in your files.

he can’t imagine how much the fact that Spencer had seemingly formed a crush on his geneticist ripped you apart.

And the worst part? He’d never met her in person.

All scientific laws of attraction be damned, Spencer Reid had fallen in love with someone he’d never met in the span of three months, and you we’re resigning yourself to sit on the sidelines and watch as the man you had been in love with for six years find the happiness that you longed for with somebody else.

How you managed to keep up your facade you didn’t know.

You’d offered him change for the pay phone he’d call her from when he was running short. You’d let him rant to you about her opinions on a novel that you had failed to get him to read. You made excuses for him to leave the office early so that he could spend his time on the phone with her.

You were the one that sent him to the hospital and caused him to meet her in the first place.

He never hesitated to remind you of that fact, thanking you vicariously every time he relayed his conversations with the doctor back to you.

As the weeks progressed he stopped calling her that. She wasn’t ‘the doctor’ anymore. She was Maeve.

He didn’t call you by your first name and you’d known him for ten times longer that he’d known her. He didn’t even call Morgan by his first name and those two were practically brothers.

And that part was probably what hurt the most.

Maeve.

A name of Irish origin meaning ‘intoxicating’. How fitting.

Apparently the Irish goddess of love and desire was named Maeve. You could see the glimmer in Spencer’s eye that told you his Maeve was just as important as the mythological goddess he was describing.

His Maeve.

“So why haven’t you two actually gone on a date or anything?” You take a sip from the mug in your hands, swivelling your chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot. “You’ve been talking for what, four months now? Surely it’s about time you actually met her in person,”

“It’s complicated,” Spencer sighs as he collects the loose papers he was working on in a pile. He didn’t want to divulge Maeve’s issues without her permission.

“You’ve been saying that for the last six weeks Spencer,” You roll your eyes as you discard your half-empty mug on the table. “If I didn’t know any better i’d say you’re putting it off,”

Spencer shook his head adamantly at your suggestion. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He did want to meet her. Desperately. He’d wanted to meet her since the end of their first phone call. But he also wanted to keep her safe.

How do you meet up with somebody who’s hiding from a stalker without endangering them?

“I do want to meet her. It’s just- she’s dealing with something personal and it’s put a rift our plans, that’s all,”

“So it’s her not wanting to meet up with you then?” You raise an eyebrow at him over your desks.

“Look it’s- You don’t get it okay? It was a mutual understanding from both of us.” You can hear Spencer’s tone become more defensive as you spoke, and you raised both of your hands in surrender.

“Okay, i’m sorry for prying-” You ended your apology with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite feeling your heart deflate in your chest at the way the friendliness his his eyes fizzled out the longer you looked at him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer’s late to work this morning.

It’s 8:06 when he finally walks through the glass doors, the coffee you made him stone cold after sitting lamely on his desk for the better part of twenty minutes. He doesn’t so much as offer an apology as he picks up the mug and makes his way over to the kitchenette to pour the coffee down the sink.

You follow behind him in a mix of intrigue and a want to refill your own mug, swilling it out with some water as you watch Spencer load a coffee pod into the machine. “Phone call last longer than you expected?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah, we were discussing the literary analysis of Annabelle Lee,” Spencer’s demeanour seems to brighten immediately once he’s given an opportunity to discuss the details of his phone call with Maeve, although the beginning of his ramble is quickly cut off by the beeping of the coffee machine.

You wait patiently for his coffee to finish before you begin making yours, raising an eyebrow as Spencer pulls out a regular teaspoon instead of the usual tablespoon he’d incorrectly use to load his coffee with sugar.

Your intrigue only heightened when he pulled a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Not even normal milk. Soy milk.

“Since when do you drink coffee like a normal person?”

His eyes flickered from his mug to your face as he tipped a single teaspoon of sugar into his drink before replacing the bag back where it came from. “It’s a part of my managed diet, Maeve thinks that my increased sugar intake might be one of the risk factors for my headaches,”

“Did she tell you to put soy milk in it too?” You don’t know why you have the urge to be petty, Spencer had long since needed to change his coffee drinking habits for the sake of decreasing his sugar intake and Maeve’s suggestions were beneficial for his health.

It was just the fact that it was her that ticked you off.

“She did actually, it provides the same amount of riboflavin as cow’s milk, which acts as a soothing agent whilst also helping constrict inflamed blood vessels, but without all of the excess fats in regular milk that might make my migraines more frequent, it’s genius really,”

He thought that her ideas were genius. Him. Mr ‘I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187’, thought someone else’s ideas were genius.

You’re sure that he already knew the benefits of milk alternatives, and yet he attributed the ‘revelation’ of what they could do to Maeve. Of course he did.

“When was the last time you made a decision for yourself?” The question comes out much harsher than you intend it to, and you can tell by the way Spencer furrows his eyebrows that he’s taken offence to it.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” No it didn’t. “I’m just a little surprised that someone as independent as you is so… willing to follow blind instructions,” Your attempt at saving yourself half-works, that wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears and you can see that the glimmer in his eyes is returning slowly.

“She’s a doctor, of course i’m going to follow her suggestions,”

You give him a soft nod as you pick up your mug from under the coffee machine. “Yeah, no, that makes sense, it’s just a little surprising is all,”

You don’t give him a chance to respond to you before you’re walking away from the kitchenette to retake a seat at your desk, fearing you might say something out of pocket if you continue the conversation any longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were really pissed off now.

You’d arrived back in Quantico three days ago, and you were still piled up to your neck in paperwork.

Maybe you would’ve had it finished by now if Spencer would stop talking about the fact that he was “-finally going to meet Maeve in person,”.

You had half the mind to snap and tell him to just shut up, although by the saving grace of Morgan you thankfully didn’t have to.

“Reid, give their poor ears a break man,” Your thankful for Morgan in times like this. He knew you were knee-deep in your feelings for Spencer, and he knew that every time Spencer so much as spoke Maeve’s name it carved another hairline fracture in your heart.

You were close to shattering, and Morgan could tell.

“Oh- right, sorry,” Spencer offered you an awkward smile which you mirrored back at him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” You shake your head in a polite dismissal of his apology before turning your head back down towards your files.

“I take it you’re nervous then?” Alex’s voice cut through the beginning of an awkward tension between the two of you as she entered to bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Well- I mean- you know…” Upon being unable to find a sufficient response, Spencer resorts to shrugging into his chair. “I just don’t want to ruin anything,”

“But aren’t you curious what she looks like?” Alex raises an eyebrow with concern like Spencer was he son going on his first ever date.

“it doesn’t matter what she looks like I mean- she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me it’s just-”

You don’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.

You sudden upheaval from your desk stops Spencer’s sentence as his eyes follow you across the bullpen and out of the glass doors, followed shortly by Morgan as he jogs after you.

“Hey- Wait up a minute-” Morgan catches your arm before you have a chance to get in the elevator, and as you turn your eyes towards him he can see the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..”

Morgan can do nothing more than pull your head into his shoulder and wrap his arms tightly around your back with a soft mutter of your name. “I know kid, I know…”

“He thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” You turn your head up from Morgan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, a single stray tear cascading down your cheek, illuminated under the florescent lights. “How am I supposed to compete with that..?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Incidentally, Spencer’s date with Maeve didn’t end up happening. Conflicting work schedules or something, you weren’t really listening.

Maybe all of your subconscious thoughts had leaked into reality and finally gave you momentary release from the crushing defeat of having Spencer go on a date with someone else.

Maybe it was them punishing you further by forcing you to sit through him rant about the book she’d left him at the front of the restaurant.

It didn’t help that you already had a headache that made it feel like your eye sockets were being kicked by an annoying kid sat behind you on an aeroplane, leaving a dull ache in it’s wake and making you just want to bury yourself in a hole and hibernate.

“And right at the back she wrote ’Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another’ it’s a quote from-”

“Thomas Merton. Yeah, I know.” You dig the knuckle of your left thumb into cavity of your eye socket over your closed eyelid, hoping to relieve some of the tension that’s lingering there and disrupting your thoughts.

“Thomas Merton’s ‘Love and Living’ specifically,” If Spencer noticed your discomfort he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s a collection of his essays on the importance of love to live, so for her to have written it specifically knowing that I would read it means-”

“Reid.”

Your tone stops him from continuing any further, and he blinks at you with that sweet puppy-dog expression that would usually have you weak at the knees.

“No offence, but I don’t care about your over-the-phone girlfriend or the quote that she wrote in your book.” Your tone carried a harshness to it that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing from you. It was cold and detached and not like you at all.

“Are- you okay?”

“No, Reid, I’m not, and if you’d bothered to ask about my life every once in a while instead of using me like a human diary maybe you would’ve realised that already.”

You practically slam your file closed as you speak, pushing your chair out from your desk and leaving him sat in shock at your sudden change in attitude.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After a bit of introspection, Spencer did realise that he hadn’t been treating you very fairly. He hadn’t asked you how your life had been in 3 months and 26 days. Four of those days he’d spent in damn near radio silence. He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

He missed you.

It was a bit ironic considering you sat directly opposite him for almost eight hours a day five days a week, but after you’d snapped at him last week, he truly realised just how much of his day he spent socialising with you, and just how much he missed talking to you.

So he decided that he was going to apologise.

And what better form of an apology for being dismissive of your feelings than putting a personal effort into something for you.

He walked into the office that morning with a leather bound copy of The Parasite by Arthur Conan Doyle stored cautiously in his messenger bag, pages scrawled with annotations from Spencer’s own reading of the novel that he hoped would be insightful to you as you read it yourself.

He’d remembered you saying how much you wanted to read the novel a few months ago, so he figured giving it to you as a personalised apology would show that he really did care about you and had listened to what you’d told him.

“Are you busy?” Spencer asks, though he already knows the answer to the question.

He’d been watching you from the other side of the room all morning, hoping for a moment or two of eye contact to see if there was a possibility of a conversation. A look from one to the other; even a smile would’ve been enough to make him feel validated and content. And he would have been willing to settle for that.

But you never looked up. Not even once.

"Mhm," You continue to not spare Spencer so much as glance as he speaks, turning over the page of the file you were working through.

“Can I take a minute of your time?” He tried to catch your gaze again, only to be met by your continued focus on your work. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your work routine, but he also knew that he needed to talk to you sooner rather than later.

“Please,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, exasperation written clearly in your expression as you leave your pen as a page marker to close the manilla folder on your desk. You turn your head upwards, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands to agitatedly indicate for him to continue.

You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt being so openly cold towards Spencer, but you’d reached a breaking point, and you couldn’t bare sitting idly on the sidelines and letting him tear your heart to pieces anymore.

Spencer was relieved that you’d granted him your attention, but the look you directed towards him was enough to make him wince. You weren’t looking at him through a lens of indifference but rather cold, hard disappointment.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather the right words for what he had to say.

“I’m sorry,”

He seemed almost breathless as he spoke, like he’d just finished a tangent about something without taking the time to breathe. “I know that I’ve been spending too much time talking about Maeve and not enough paying attention to you.”

"You don’t say," You mutter the words under your breath to yourself, but your sure that Spencer heard you based on the way his eyebrows knit and the small gleam of hope in his eyes dwindles to barely a flicker.

He was trying not to react to your snide comment. Spencer knew that your tone didn’t leave any room to deny your meaning. He’d been selfish in talking exclusively about his relationship and hadn’t realised how it was affecting you.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeated. “You mean so much to me and I haven’t been showing that.”

"Thank you," Your thanks are polite but dismissive, like you were acknowledging his apology but choosing to not actually consider it as one, and it left Spencer with an expression of clear frustration.

He was used to being able to read your facial expressions and emotions in the past, but now you were just an unreadable wall of disappointment. He had hoped the apology would've been enough, but it was clear that you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

Time to pull out the last resort.

He bent over and fumbled with his bag for a few moments before pulling out the novel he’d brought with him face up.

“I uh… got you this,” He holds out the book towards you. “You said you wanted to read it right? So I uh.. annotated it for you to make it more enjoyable,”

You take the novel from him with a raised eyebrow as your eyes scan the cover, a clear flicker of confusion in your expression.

Spencer noticed your expression and furrowed his own brow in confusion. You didn't seem to recognise the book. In fact, the look on your face made him wonder whether you even knew this book existed at all before this moment.

“I hope you… like it,” he said nervously. “I was going off what you'd talked about before. You mentioned the book was a classic?”

"I… have never seen this book in my life,”

“B-But…” Spencer knew this was going to be awkward at some point, but he'd hoped not this early into the conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, and it was only getting worse as he searched your face for an answer to this awkward situation.

“I… swear I heard you mention it once.”

You give him a short shake of your head and a pursed smile of awkward thanks as you put the book down on your desk.

Spencer looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. He hadn't even been able to deliver an apology properly, let alone make you feel special like he'd originally intended to.

How had he gotten it wrong? He had an eidetic memory for god’s sake.

When you put the book down on your desk, his eyes flicked back to the book. He'd spent almost 4 hours annotating and researching it and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.

If you hadn’t mentioned it then who had? Someone must’ve. Someone he obviously equated with you to the point where he’d somehow managed to override his eidetic memory to mix the two of you up.

It takes him a few moments before you hear him whisper out a name under his breath, the palm of his hand dragging down the front of his face at the realisation.

"Maeve…"

The mention of her name had your eyes flickering away from the leather cover and right back to Spencer’s face, awkwardness completely rid of your features and replaced with a mix of negativity that Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into.

"Are you serious?" Your words come out less questioningly and more accusatory, and you hold the book up so that he can see it once more, the gold embossing on the cover glinting under the overhead light as if to only taunt Spencer further for his mistake.

“You apologise for continuously disregarding me for your girlfriend by giving me a book that she showed interest in?”

You could see Spencer's face fall as your words sink in.

He hadn't even taken the time to think over what he was apologising with. It was almost as if his brain automatically just reverted back to his girlfriend's interests as an escape from dealing with his own guilt and sadness.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. And in that moment he realised he'd just committed the biggest crime someone could make when trying to apologise.

“Like you constantly flaunting your relationship in my face verbally wasn’t bad enough.”

"I'm sorry I-" he says again, voice teeming with sincerity and guilt.

"You are truly and utterly unbelievable Spencer Reid." Your words didn’t carry anger as much as they did disappointment, and he could see the astoundment in your eyes as you pushed your chair backwards to stand, dropping the book straight in the trash bin by your desk before walking off.

It’s where it belongs; Right alongside the small sliver of respect you still had for him.

Spencer could've said so much more: he could've admitted how ashamed he felt for his careless actions and he could've apologised again and again a million times if it meant you'd stick around and give him a chance to make it up to you.

But you had already made it clear that you weren't in the right state of mind to discuss this matter further.

The best thing he could do now was give you space as he watched you walk away, a deep pain in his heart that slowly ate him alive from the inside.

He’d well and truly fucked up.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were bordering tears by the time you reached Garcia’s office, unintentionally interrupting her lunch break with Alex in the process, though the two seemed to care less about the interruption and more about the fact that you liked like you were about to cry your eyes out.

You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you try to tape together the cracks in your composure, although with every one you seal three more seem to appear in it’s place.

“I-” You can barely get the first word out before the tears start rolling down your face, and Alex immediately stands from her seat to guide you to sit in her place.

“Hey, you’re alright, slowly,” Alex’s hands find your shoulders and rub reassuring circles against your shirt. The slow breath you take in doesn’t stop the flood of tears that’s blurring your vision, and you only manage to get out a single word, but it’s all the two need to understand what’s got you so overwhelmed.

“Spencer-”

“I swear I am two seconds away from smacking that boy over the back of the head,” You can hear the clear frustration in Garcia’s tone. “Surely he’s got to realise how much he’s hurting you by now,”

“He does… I lashed out at him and then left to come here…” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand alongside a small sniffle, trying to rid your vision of it’s blurriness from your tears.

“Good, the boy deserves to have some sense knocked into him,” You appreciate Garcia taking your side, but you can’t help that small lingering feeling of guilt that invades the back of your mind.

“He’s just in love, it’s not his fault…” The words almost physically pain you to say. The verbal acceptance that Spencer Reid was indeed in love with somebody. Somebody who wasn’t you.

“That doesn’t mean that he should be disregarding you though sweetheart,” Alex’s tone is soft and almost maternal, and your sure that it doesn’t help how emotional you are.

Garcia’s right hand reaches forward to straighten out the collar of your shirt, unintentionally crumpled as you try to wipe your face of your emotions. “You’re his friend, and you have been his friend for longer than he’s known this girl he’s talking to, it’s not fair for him to completely push you to the side,”

Garcia was right. It’s not fair. Nothing about how Spencer had been treating you since he’d started speaking to Maeve had been fair. And you were done making excuses for the boy just because you knees deep in your feelings for him.

You didn’t deserve to feel guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel bad for lashing out at Spencer for apologising for not showing interest in your life by further proving just how little he’d actually payed attention to you. You didn’t deserve to cry because he was the most stupid genius to ever live and couldn’t see that you were hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t deserve to suffer by his hand.

It wasn’t fair.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maeve’s been kidnapped.”

You have to consciously suppress the small voice in the back of your head that celebrates the possibility that she might not be a part of Spencer’s life for much longer. It’s a horrible thought. You should never wish ill upon anyone, no matter how much you internally despised them.

Still, that part of you that was still petty, that was still infuriated with Spencer and Maeve, wanted you to tell Spencer straight to his face that you weren’t going to help him find her and that it was karma for how he’d treated you.

But you weren’t a bad person.

As much as you might hate her, she was still important to Spencer.

“I have a wealth of knowledge i should be applying to this case, but- i can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time… which makes me the dumbest person in the room-” Spencer’s eyes are full of desperation as they scan across your teammates.

“So please help me… Please help me find her…” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, the remnants of tears staining his face as he explains the context of the situation through broken sentences.

“We don’t have an official case, so we’ll be working on personal time,” Hotch’s voice is much quieter than you’re used to. Softer, more considerate. “Does anybody want to leave?”

You can feel his eyes linger on you as he asks the question, and you subconsciously purse your mouth into a tight line to stop yourself from impulsively pulling out of the investigation.

You might be detrimentally frustrated with him, but you did want to help. Even if it ultimately resulted in your downfall.

Hotch gave you a short nod before turning to the rest of the team. “Good, let’s get to work,”

It didn’t take Garcia very long to track Maeve down, mostly attributed to her unique name and specialised job.

Dr. Maeve Donovan, a professor at Mendel University who took a sabbatical leave 10 months ago.

The group split into different groups once they’d found her, JJ and Morgan heading off to a loft her parents owned, Alex and Rossi heading to the lab she used to work at, and you and Hotch, accompanied by Spencer, going to speak to Maeve’s parents.

“Reid,” Garcia’s tone is soft as she looks over her laptop screen towards him as he begins to stand from the conference table. “I have a picture of her, do you want to know what she looks like?”

“No,”

Spencer’s answer is immediate, joined by a shake of his head.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You and Spencer watched from behind the one way mirror as the interview progressed.

They’d last spoken to Maeve five days ago. Her mother had cancer. She was also a geneticist. They were suspicious of her ex fiancé Bobby.

Her fiancé?

You can see Spencer’s face drop at the words despite the low lighting in the room, and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows yourself.

She had a fiancé?

Spencer practically storms out of the office after the questioning is over, and Hotch has to remind him to calm down as they reach the apartment of Robert Putnam with Morgan and Rossi in tow.

When the door opens the five of you aren’t greeted by Robert, but rather a girl, a girl who looked very confused.

You invite yourselves inside at the girl’s recognition that Robert was inside the apartment.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Diane, his girlfriend,” She raised an eyebrow as the five of you looked around, confusion cut short as Robert rounds the corner questioning the sudden voices coming from his living room.

“Hey babe what’s-“

“Robert Putnam, FBI we’d like to-” Spencer’s voice cuts him off harshly as he rushes to speak, although he stops his sentence halfway as a flicker of recognition falls across his features and his anger turns to dread.

“Hey, I know you,” Robert doesn’t have the time to say anything else to Spencer before Hotch forces him out of the room, shutting the door behind him to speak to Spencer privately whilst you Morgan and Rossi remained inside.

Hotch returned a few minutes later. Spencer didn’t.

You end up taking Hotch’s place as you push yourself out of the apartment with a small “excuse me,” to follow after Spencer as he walks out of the apartment building.

“Spencer- wait up a minute-”

He doesn’t stop at your call, and you’re practically running down the stairs by the time you get to him, already out of the front doors of the apartment building.

“Hey-” You take a second to catch your breath before turning your eyes back towards him again. “Are you alright?”

You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he met your gaze.

The last time you spoke to him you threw away any remnant of your friendship with him in the bin alongside the book he’d given you, and now here you were, chasing after him to make sure that he was okay.

“Why did you agree to help?”

Your face falls from concern to surprise at his question, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I know that you don’t like her, so why are you here?” You could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, clearly overwhelmed with how the investigation was going.

“She’s important to you Spencer. Like her or not I care about you. So therefore I care about her,” You don’t think as you speak, words spilling out of your mouth with no conscious filter.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer’s apology elicits a sigh from your mouth, and you shake your head softly at him.

“Forget it, let’s focus on getting Maeve home safe alright?” He obliges to your request with a purse of his lips and a small nod, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“What’re you thinking about?” His eyes fall on yours once more at your question, round with confusion and glistening with the starts of tears. “I can see it in your face, you’re calculating something in your head,”

He exhales through his mouth in a small laugh. You’d always been able to figure him out, and not just because you were a profiler.

“2,412 hours,” His tone is uncertain, mixed between gratefulness for you observance and something far more upsetting. “That’s how long Maeve and I have contacted each other counting letters and phone calls…”

“That’s what-” You take a second to do the calculation in your head. “100 days?”

“100.5…” He runs his hand backwards through his hair, pressing his eyes closed like he’s afraid tears will spill from them if he doesn’t. “What if that’s all I get?”

“It won’t be Spencer…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes Spencer, I do,” You have to consciously suppress the sigh that threatens to leave your mouth, pushing your lingering distaste for Maeve down with it. “She is going to be fine, I promise,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Turns out Maeve’s ex fiancé wasn’t the stalker. In fact, he was being stalked himself, and whilst JJ and Garcia were looking over the images posted to Robert whilst him and Maeve were still together they discovered something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.

Maeve’s face had scribbled out in eyeliner.

You and the team spent the next thirty minutes rebuilding the profile from the bottom up.

“Celebrity stalkers are usually non violent,”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon Rossi?” Spencer looked up from his lap towards the group at the table, having separated himself from the group to sit on a sofa lining one of the walls so he couldn’t bias the profile.

It wasn’t going too well.

“What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him?” Spencer stood from his seat, anger flaring in his nostrils. “‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided’,”

You could hear the rise in his tone as he worked himself up the more he spoke.

“Spencer-“

“Maeve is somebody. And this- bitch is a nobody.”

“Spencer.”

Spencer caught your gaze, and immediately fizzling out of his eyes and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry- I can’t be very helpful right now I should leave-“

“Yes you can Reid, you have 100.5 days of communication with this girl and a recall everything verbatim,” Morgan’s gaze is entirely concerned with Spencer’s outburst.

“There’s too much of it, and I can’t sort through any of it clearly-“ Spencer is clearly on the edge of breaking, and you can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his composure for much longer.

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through it with you,” Hotch leaned his elbows against the table, his voice again portraying that soft, parental tone that said he knew how overwhelmed Spencer was getting.

Spencer didn’t even say anything, his eyes just silently flickered over to you and you knew you couldn’t refuse him.

You return his silence as you get up from your seat and pat your hand on his shoulder for the two of you to exit the room together.

Time to torture yourself for the sake of Spencer’s wellbeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Diane Turner, a research assistant working for her PhD in the same lab as Maeve. A student who had her thesis rejected because it contained a heavy sample bias that included both of her parents.

It took a while, but Garcia eventually managed to track down a loft that was owned under Diane’s parents’ names, less than 10 minutes away from Maeve’s apartment.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Diane’s voice is harsh through the receiver attached to the front of the building, and Spencer’s eyes flickered up from the silk blindfold in his hands to the metal box.

He doesn’t question the orders as he immediately begins stripping the vest from his torso, dropping it and his gun on the floor.

“Now come in alone.”

“Spencer.” You call out to him as he reaches for the door handle, and he gives you that look that makes your stomach do flips in your torso. Except this time it’s not that pleasant fluttery feeling, but instead an existential dread at the fact that he might not walk out of the building alive.

“I’ll be okay,” He gives you a nod of reassurance as he pushes the door open, and you find yourself clenching your hands around your gun to stop yourself from following after him.

The six of you wait outside for what feels like hours, and you lean back and forth on the balls of your feet as you become increasingly restless with the situation.

Then, a gunshot.

And a second.

And your heart drops in your chest.

You’re not entirely present as you rush into the building with the team following behind you, gun raised at your eyes.

Spencer had to be okay. He had to. He was going to be fine. You were going to walk into that room and he was going to be perfectly fine.

You hoped Maeve was alright too. As much as she was unintentionally causing you literal hell, you knew that she meant everything to Spencer.

You knew that he’d choose her over anything. He’d choose her over you.

And right now you don’t care. You just want him to be okay.

You force the door open to the loft with your foot, gun pointed straight ahead at the first person you see.

“Stay back-“ Spencer practically shouts from where he’s half lying on the floor, right hand clutching tightly at his left bicep, trails of blood cascading down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Stay back stay back don’t shoot-“

You let out an audible sigh at the fact that Spencer wasn’t critically harmed, although upon a whimper of his name from further across the room you turn your eyes up to the noise.

And you finally meet the girl that’s caused you ten months of hell. Held at gunpoint.

That small voice in the back of your head tells you that this might be your chance to finally rid her from your life, to let her succumb to whatever Diane had planned and leave Spencer to you.

But you take one look at the desperation in her eyes and any loathing that remained in your mind immediately fizzled out.

It wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. She was just a girl that happened to be in love.

“Diane,” Spencer pushes himself to stand, and you can see the pain in his face as he does. “There’s still a way out of this,”

“You never wanted me. Never!” Diane pushes the gun she’s holding hard against Maeve’s neck, and you can see her eyes squeeze closed as she attempts to keep herself from crying. “You lied!”

“I didn’t.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, and you glance over at Hotch as you spread across the back of the room, guns raised in Diane’s direction. “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it,”

“Me for her. Let me take her place,”

You only have a view of the back of Spencer’s head now, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that his expression is a pure display of desperation, one that you’re happy you can’t see because you’d lose your composure in an instant.

“You would do that?” Diane’s question is angry and accusatory, tears rolling down her face as she presses the gun against Maeve’s neck once more.

Spencer nods with no threat in his tone. “Yes,”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

You practically feel your heart stop.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve’s voice is almost exactly as you imagined it to be. Soft, smooth and, as Spencer had called it all those months ago, ‘dipped in honey’.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane’s tone contrasts Maeve’s tenfold, pitchy, uneven and overrun with manic anger.

“He knows,” You can see Maeve’s eyes flicker, and you assume that they meet Spencer’s as his shoulders drop. “He knows.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane shakes Maeve in her grasp as if to intensify the urgence of her question, and you tighten your grip on your gun in instinctual response. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve’s voice is confident and defiant despite the clear tears in her eyes.

Thomas Merton could’ve been something between Spencer and you.

“No.”

You can see a clear change in Diane’s expression at Maeve’s words, and she lowers the gun from Maeve’s head only to hold it up against her own, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes.

“Wait-”

Spencer barely has time to shout the word before the gun fires, and you flinch at the sound as you watch Maeve and Diane both drop to the floor, dark red blood pooling around the two.

You can feel the tension in the room as everyone computes what just happened, guns lowering slowly as their eyes lock onto the two women on the floor.

You’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the tightness of Spencer’s shoulders as he takes sharp breaths in and out of his nose.

The way he seems to forget about the bullet wound in his arm as his legs give out underneath him.

The way a sob that leaves his mouth despite the fact that he tries to muffle it with his hand.

The way that Spencer broke.

He's crying. Big, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs.

His shoulders are trembling.

His hands are shaking.

His head is hanging downwards so that his hair is covering his face.

You approach him slowly, kneeling down at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes slowly shift from Maeve, his sobs only seeming to amplify as he meets your gaze. His eyes are red and closely with tears, his cheeks running hot and his lips trembling.

You don’t speak, knowing that you’ll break if you do. Instead, you guide his head into your shoulder and let him crumble in your arms, grieving the loss of the love of his life.

You’re sure you’re going to cry yourself to sleep when you get home, but right now, you needed to be strong. For him.

“I’m so sorry-“ Spencer speaks through broken sobs as you hold him, the rest of the team moving to secure the scene.

“Shh,” You shake your head against his softly, rubbing the palm of your hand up and down his back as you let him cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“I treated you so horribly-“ He pulls away from your shoulder to look into your eyes once more. “I’m so sorry- Please don’t leave me…”

You purse your lips into a line, your expression full of so many emotions Spencer can’t distinguish any of them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You pull his head back into your shoulder, leaning your head against his. “I promise…”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Joel Miller x wife fem reader

Family Emergency

Joel rolled over in bed, the soft glow of the clock illuminating the early morning hours. His wife, Y/N, lay peacefully beside him, her steady breathing a comforting reminder of her presence. Joel closed his eyes, trying to fall back into sleep, when the phone rang abruptly, shattering the tranquility. Groggily, he answered, only to hear his father’s voice, fraught with panic and pain.

"Joel, it's Dad. I think something's wrong. My chest... it hurts."

Joel's heart skipped a beat. "Hang on, Pops. We're coming."

He hung up and turned to Y/N, gently shaking her awake. "Honey, wake up. It's Pops. He's having chest pains."

Y/N's eyes snapped open, instantly alert. Years of working as a Med Surge Nurse had trained her to switch from sleep to action in a heartbeat. She leapt out of bed, her mind already racing through the steps she needed to take. Joel dashed downstairs to start the truck, while she grabbed her stethoscope and a bag of supplies she always kept ready for emergencies.

They raced out of the house, the cool night air biting at their faces as they hurried to the truck. Joel's hands were shaking as he fumbled with the keys, the engine roaring to life. Y/N jumped in beside him, her bag clutched tightly on her lap. Joel sped down the empty streets, his worry etched deep into his furrowed brow.

"He's going to be okay," Y/N reassured him, though she couldn't hide the tension in her own voice. "We'll be there soon."

The drive seemed to stretch on forever, each minute feeling like an eternity. Joel's fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking between the road and the clock. Finally, they pulled up in front of his father’s house, the familiar sight bringing a small measure of relief.

Y/N bolted from the truck and rushed to the front door, Joel close on her heels. She burst into the house, her voice echoing through the hallway. "Pops? Where are you?"

"In here," came a weak voice from the living room.

She found him slumped in his recliner, his face pale and sweaty. Kneeling beside him, Y/N quickly assessed his condition. "Pops, did you take your medication today? Have you checked your blood sugar?"

He shook his head weakly, his hand clutching at his chest. Y/N's eyes widened as she realized what might be happening. She pulled out her glucometer and checked his blood sugar levels. The reading was alarmingly low.

"Alright, Pops. It's just your sugar. I'm going to get you a spoonful of peanut butter and some orange juice," she said, her voice calming and professional.

Joel watched anxiously as Y/N moved with practiced efficiency, grabbing the necessary items from the kitchen. She returned to his father's side and carefully administered the peanut butter and juice, keeping a close eye on him as he slowly regained his color.

"Pops, you really scared me," Joel said, his voice choked with emotion.

His father managed a weak chuckle, the color gradually returning to his face. "I'm sorry, son. Guess I just forgot to eat something."

As his blood sugar stabilized, Y/N helped him back to bed, ensuring he was comfortable and had everything he needed within reach. She knelt beside him, her eyes filled with concern. "If you feel anything else, or if you’re unsure, call me immediately. Promise?"

He nodded gratefully, squeezing her hand. "Thank you, Y/N. You're a lifesaver."

Joel and Y/N finally made their way back home, the adrenaline of the night slowly wearing off. They climbed into bed, the first light of dawn creeping through the curtains. Joel turned to her, his eyes filled with gratitude.

"What would I do without you? Thank you for being there for my dad," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled, her hand resting gently on his cheek. "I wouldn't change it for the world.”

Joel pulled her close and said” I’m glad you did, because you’re fucking amazing at it. plus you look so hot in your scrubs.”he smirks already getting a hard on. he rubs up against his wife trying to get her in the mood

Next thing he knows he is getting smacked with a pillow she laughs and says “Go to sleep, now’s not the time” he grunted and kissed her and flipped over to hearing his wife’s silent snores “Damn that was fast.” he chuckled and slowly falls back asleep himself.

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[seeingteacupsindragons]

So I’ve been thinking a lot about mental health and mental illness lately (thanks, new psychiatrist) as I process a new diagnosis and what it means and reframing my image of myself, so I want to talk about some stuff.

So if you know all this already, just. Bear with me, okay, I’m processing a lot right now.

A lot of people on here get annoyed at advice to, like, go for a walk or do yoga or see sunlight or clean things up or meditate or whatever. And I get it, because I also get annoyed at people thinking that will solve my problems. I have had a boss try to get me to do a damn meditation app as if that would solve the work impact my mental illness was having, and it infuriated me.

But, that’s not because it doesn’t solve a problem. It just doesn’t solve the problem I have.

Meditation apps and all that other stuff are basically the mental health equivalent of eating a salad and jogging once a week. Someone who doesn’t do those things, even if they’re not otherwise sick, are not going to be very healthy and are going to feel kind of gross. It’s baseline health care.

But eating a salad isn’t going to cut it if you have a broken leg. You actually need medical care.

(Please go to a doctor if you have a broken leg. Thank you)

Now, if you get the mental health equivalent of a cold—something stressful is going on at work or with your friends, or a lot of small emergencies are popping up at once—you can probably still get by without a doctor. Increase the vegetables, get some soup, rest and sleep a lot. Do some extra mindfulness exercises, take a new yoga class, get a little TLC, clean your room. It will help you feel a lot better, and then the “illness/blip” will pass and you’ll be back to baseline in relatively short order, without needing to see a doctor.

But what if you have mental health bronchitis, or a broken leg? I would compare these to maybe some post-partum mental health issues, or grieving a death of someone, or a divorce, or something like that. You may actually need to see a doctor, get some care, see a therapist and get counseling, maybe briefly stop by on some antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds to help you recover. And then you’ll probably be mostly okay, with maybe some lingering issues and a good strong memory of that time you were Not Okay.

But you weren’t going to get okay without something a lot more than vegetables and cardio.

And then there’s the Chronic Mental Health issues, like many mood disorders or personality disorders, or PTSD/CPTSD, panic disorders, phobias…the lingering things that need serious help and you are very likely in fact to never full recover from, or even partially in some cases. These are where you get type one diabetes or Celiac’s or an amputation, or multiple sclerosis, or any of that. Stuff where you desperately need regular, often daily, medical care and management to stay healthy and functional.

And these ones are going to change your life even with medical care. A diabetic might need a medical device attached to them at all times, they are likely to need to check their blood sugar regularly, they’ll need to think about what they eat and how it will effect them, they’ll need to carry glucose tabs. They might have a medical ID bracelet! And sometimes mistakes might still happen and things go very badly. An amputee might have a prosthetic or might not, but either way it won’t do everything a biological appendage will, and they’ll have to adjust their lives to how to move and pick things up or whatever in a very different way to someone who has that body part. And someone with Celiac’s is just not going to be able to eat gluten. Not matter what medicine they take. It’s not going to happen.

And that’s the thing: even when you’re getting regular medical care and treatment, and you have a plan worked out and you’re used to it, if you have a mood disorder or PTSD or schizophrenia or something…you may very well never quite have a life that looks like someone who only needs yoga and meditation classes. You may always need other accommodations and lifestyle adjustments to function and manage.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy. It means things are going to be so different for you that the people who manage with salad and a treadmill are just not going to be able to offer any useful advice to you. Your needs are way too different.

And then there’s getting into a car crash or catching meningitis. Sometimes, shit is just going to happen to people, and they are going to need to be hospitalized and watched very carefully for a while. I would probably categorize a lot of mental breakdowns, like the kinds that are at the onset of many mood or panic disorders, some levels of psychosis, sometimes the death of someone very dear to you—in fact, many of the things that might be broken legs to some might turn out here. Maybe someone else broken their leg with a nice clean fracture, but yours was a complicated shatter of a joint that started healing wrong and also got infected.

And the hospitalization isn’t going to be the end of your care, either. You’ll stay in the hospital until they can get you stable, until you don’t need medical professionals a button press away, until you can be assumed to recover the rest of the way on your own.

But, for people who know people who have come home from the hospital after a surgery or serious illness…it’s far from the end of the road, or even return to a new baseline. You’re going to need a lot of help and rest and recovery even after hospital discharge. Someone will probably have to watch you, might need to help you take your meds, might need to bring you food and drinks, or cook, or do chores.

And people who care should, maybe, understand, and send, “Get well soon,” and “Thinking of you” and flowers, and organize meal trains and otherwise show up for someone who is seriously ill.

Of course, a lot of that would be weird in the Chronic Illness space. But there, I think the understand would be, “Yeah, you know your friend can’t have gluten,” and “Why would you suggest they go for a hike with you when they’re in a wheelchair, you dick?” and “I made you low-sugar treats! I worked super hard on the recipe!” so people around you know that you have different needs and you care enough to accommodate them and make sure they are still cared for…differently.

I don’t think I’m going to edit this before posting.

But I’m thinking about it a lot, and I think I’m going from a place where I though I had a broken leg to realizing the leg was never actually going to heal without a limp, to realizing, in fact, that the leg didn’t break the way I thought it did and I need some physical therapy and a new doctor to get it working and see what happens then.

Maybe this was helpful to someone besides me. But it felt good to get it all into words!

[miabebe]

I Am What I Am (V)

A man of the shadows and a woman who belonged in the skies - fate could not have brought two more different people together. But was this fate or was this a choice?

Pairing - Im Changkyun x OC, Kim Mingyu × OC

Word Count - 7.3K

Warnings - guns, slight mentions of violence blood, death.

Chapter summary - Running down the dark tunnel looking for light was turning out to be a never ending loop. It wasn't like nothing was before her, rather Na bi couldn't understand what she was seeing. And more importantly, what she was feeling.

| Previous chapter | Masterlist |

Much to her surprise, when Na bi woke up the next day, it was already past noon.

She had passed out from all that exhaustion quite early last night - the muscles of her legs were still sore but the warmth of the bed and the weight of the duvet were comforting. She had forgotten to close the curtains before dozing off and now the yellow of the sun was all over the room. The trees outside were standing still as ever, birds chirped all around - The forest looked so alive, yet still felt so daunting.

Dragging herself off the bed, she closed the curtains, submerging the room into darkness before flipping the switches of the lights.

Something had changed.

Na bi walked up to the small study in the corner, eyes falling on the new contents on the table. It was her belongings - her unnecessarily thick medical textbooks, study guides, lecture notes - all her personal material from home, neatly stacked. On the shelf were her novels, magazines she liked to flip through, journals she had filled over the years. How did he manage to get these?

Even her toiletries were arranged for, neatly laid out by the sink - new bottles of her soap, shampoo, creams and serums of her night routine. In the ten minutes she took to wash up, a fresh set of clothes which, albeit she didn't change into, were laid out for her and outside, on the table was a piping a hot coffee and biscuits. Her bed had been made, the curtains were pulled back again, and the fire of the night had been put out. It was as though Changkyun had a bunch of elves working around here for him - efficient, meticulous and invisible.

Na bi sipped on her coffee as she looked through the books and papers on her table again. When Changkyun said whatever she needed would be arranged for, he kept his word - every small thing, down to drawing pencils and her favourite set of highlighters was here.

Everything except her laptop.

Na bi looked around, eyes searching for it as another realisation slowly dawned upon her. She hadn't seen her phone in very long either. Panicking slightly, she left her coffee and rummaged through the sheets of the freshly made bed - it was not there. She opened the drawers of her bedside table hurriedly, scoured the shelves and cupboards of the room, checked the bathroom, checked the closet but it was nowhere to be found. She tried to  recall when she last saw it. A very faint memory told her it dropped out of her hand when she was shoved into Wonho's van.

Fuck.

She needed that phone, how was anything going to work out without it?

Na bi sank onto an ottoman, massaging her temples, her mind behind it racing. She wasn't prepared for this. She hadn't expected things to be in motion so soon; screw Mingyu for not so much as warning her before putting their plan to action. But now it was too late to curse him - she was already in the middle of it all and she had to figure it out on her own, there was no other way.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hair back, pulling it into a tight ponytail, something she rarely ever did. Leaving her half empty coffee cup on the table, she stuffed two biscuits in her mouth for some sugar and slowly opened the door of her bedroom. If she was going to crack Changkyun's empire, his house would be the first place to begin.

When Na bi stepped into the familiar corridor, she found herself alone again, a chill running down her spine. It wasn't eerie or haunting in anyway, but the thought of just what she might discover in this inhabitation was terrifying her already. Cautiously, she began walking further down the corridor, doors of two rooms coming into her view - one she assumed was the second guest bedroom Changkyun mentioned and the other was perhaps his own. Surely if there was any place in this house that could give her a clue, it had to be his room.

Opening the first door on her way, Na bi immediately concluded it to be a guest room for the layout was unmistakably, exactly the same as hers - the colour of the walls, the sheets, the furniture, all of it. Except the view from the window. From the left most corner, Na bi caught sight of a sliver of the beach she saw yesterday. So it wasn't a mirage conjured by her exhaustion or a figment of her imagination.....

Gulping at the possibilities, she slowly left, proceeding to the next room, only to find it locked shut. She tried the handle a few times, with both force and technique but neither could open it. Stepping back she glanced at the walls that spanned on either sides of it. It had to be a huge room, which meant it most definitely was Changkyun’s but clearly, neither was he home, nor was anything about him accessible to her.

Na bi though, wasn't one to accept defeat. Besides, how hard could it be to break into a room? One bobbypin and she could have easily found her way in. And perhaps she would have too if she didn't hear the strange sounds of clanking metal from a distance. Frowning, she turned, walking towards the source, trying to locate it. Softly she whispered Changkyun's name, guessing it was him and instantly, the noise stopped. And so did Na bi.

After a long silence and a long period of immobility, Na bi finally took another daring step ahead, the living space downstairs slowly coming into view. It was just as empty as yesterday, only more harshly lit by the afternoon sun. It looked just as beautiful though, she observed as she walked down the stairs, looking around. Changkyun was definitely a man of strange taste but she didn't expect to find herself in approval of it. Except those ceiling high windows. Those still made her stomach churn with discomfort.

When Na bi managed to make it all the way down to the last step, she stumbled, noticing a door she hadn't really seen before. The walls felt warm and she could hear the sound of firewood crackling from the other side. Wondering if that was the source of the noise, she knocked softly before grabbing the handle and pushing the door, only to feel a hand rest on her shoulder.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Na bi bit back a scream, turning to meet the eyes of a  woman almost a whole head smaller than her, looking at her fiercely. Her salt and pepper hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, and with her cute little pink apron and half moon glasses, one would think she was a sweet old lady, but the sharpness of her tone told Na bi otherwise.

"I'm...I'm looking for Changkyun." Na bi watched the woman physically wince at the mention of his name. "Where is he?"

"Master's not home." Master? She wiped her hands on her apron before walking past her and closed the door loudly. The point had been made. "If you there's something you need, you can ask me."

"Is this Changkyun's room?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it is."

Na bi's eyes flickered between her and the room. What was in there? And if this was his room, who did the room upstairs belong to? And why was it locked?

"Wait, wait." She rushed as the older woman began walking away, following her footsteps. "Where's Changkyun?"

"Master is a busy man." She huffed. "He comes and goes as he pleases-"

"Goes where?"

"He doesn't inform me about his whereabouts."

"When does he usually come back?"

"Whenever he decides to."

"When is that usually-"

"Ms. Baek," Na bi's lips parted in surprise at the mention of her name. And at the faint but apparent annoyance in the woman's voice. "I do not concern myself with master's business and frankly, neither should you. But if your curiosity cannot handle the ignorance then I suggest you ask him yourself, whenever he's back."

And with that, she walked off into the kitchen across, a lot faster than before. Na bi stood in the middle of the hall, staring at a loss.

There's a lot you need to learn about this place Ms. Baek.

Indeed there was. The rooms of this house were just the beginning of things. If she was to be successful in her mission, she needed to know all that was there to know. She had to unravel Changkyun’s world down to the core and she had to do it without letting him get even the faintest idea as to why she was here - that would ruin everything. So right now, what Na bi most desperately needed..... was a friend.

She turned to look at the only other person she had seen here, standing behind the kitchen island, mixing soup in a pot, cutting up some greens and putting something into an oven, all simultaneously. She was perfectly efficient, timing her moves just right, smoothly executing her tasks. She looked not too old, perhaps in her mid fifties, crowsfeet aligned by her eyes which were somewhat soft under all that snappy exterior. If Na bi made the right moves, she knew she could break through that hard perosona of hers and make a potential ally. Only problem was, Na bi had no idea how to make friends.

Silently going back to her room, she threw herself on the bed and stared at the grey ceiling. Her whole life, much to the contrary of what most people believed, Na bi was quite the loner. She rarely went to team dinners, never joined them on karaoke nights and barely ever participated in birthdays or other celebrations. She wasn't hostile to people or unfriendly, no; she just didn't have the time and energy to engage in social niceties. She had cordial relationships with her colleagues and neighbours but that was about it. Seokmin was the only exception in her rather isolated life.

Two years ago, when she first joined the hospital, he too was just like everyone else, a mere acquitance. Somehow, over time, he warmed up to her and honestly, rather insistently inserted himself into her life. Thank god for him though. Na bi didn't know what she would do without that crazy guy who somehow always there when she needed him (which wasn't very often), who always tolerated her rather unbothered attitude (which was very often) and who would always look out for her, no questions asked.

Even though Mingyu had asked her not to inform a soul about her mission, she regretted not telling Seokmin about everything. He was probably worried by her lack of response, but hopefully, he just assumed her radio silence to be just one of her usual unsociable moods - she often ignored him over the weekends and holiday season, knowing he would attempt to set her up with one of his many, many friends.

But Na bi wasn't the kind to date either. Dating apps were completely out of question - they demanded way too much time and commitment. Over time, she disliked meeting the people Seokmin or her other colleagues set her up with too; it was just hours and hours of talking leading to nowhere. Can a person really be understood over a meal and a conversation held specifically in order to impress? It didn't make any sense to her.

Rather, she preferred her not-so-regular-but-quite-frequent rendezvous - Flirting with men at the bar, hooking up at the convenience of their cars or homes, and leaving, first thing in the morning, never to see them again. Atleast those encounters were honest in intention and brief with expectations. Seokmin often ate her ear off about how now that she was getting older, maybe it was time to settle down with one person and though she heard him (and partly agreed), she as usual feigned ignorance.

That's why when Mingyu walked into her life, she decided to take the chance. Things with him flowed so smoothly and were so easy going, she thought perhaps finally, she had managed to find someone more permanent. She found herself willingly going on dates, happily having hours of conversation and was pleasantly surprised that they were on the same wavelength about most things. He seemed to understand her; he was willing to go the extra mile whenever she pulled herself back, he was ok with taking a step back when she wasn't ready - it was as though he knew exactly what she needed.

Except he really did know exactly what she needed. He was nothing but a facade, a man tailor made for her after days of observing and studying her, presented in a way they knew she would be interested enough to meet again and again. It worked. Oh it worked wonderfully well for them, because honestly, Na bi did not ever see herself dressing up for a man but..... it wasn't their triumph.

Deep down Na bi knew what was the exact and the real reason she met Mingyu time and again. It was because he was a cop. It was for Changkyun. It was because should anything happen to Changkyun, Mingyu would be one of the more reliable sources to find out from.

Na bi sat up, crossing her legs, just the thought of it making her nauseous. Sure she was attracted to Changkyun, sure she knew he was dangerous but she did not think he would be the one responsible for Ana.... of course, since she found out, she no longer had the same kind of interest in him.

But the moment he appeared before her yesterday, the moment he met her eye, something in her stomach dropped and she knew - the effect he had on her was far from gone. Na bi though, wasn't insensible or unreasonable. She knew what she was here to do and no matter what happened, she was not willing to end up as the prey in this hunt.

So, to begin with, there were 2 things she had to focus on - 1. breaking the ice with that older woman and 2. figuring out this strange place she was holed up in. And with that clarity, Na bi began her mission, scribbling down the details of her discoveries in her new journal every night.

Day 1

I got together a bunch of papers and started drawing out the layout of the house. Whatever I've seen of it at least. I need to map the whole place out, and whatever is around here too - the forest, the beach, find other landmarks, any and all clues that can help identity this location. I shall do it, one step at a time. But I need to be careful. That older woman, who I think is the housekeeper here, tends to walk into my room anytime. Thank god I managed to hide the papers when she came to give me lunch. (Kimchi pasta and orange juice, absolutely delicious). There's a loose floorboard I found by the fireplace. These drawings should be secure there as of now.

But I don't know what to do about the her. When I smile at her, she simply nods and walks away. She's going to be a tough nut to crack. I watched her all afternoon, sitting in the living room with my books. She left from the backdoor at 3 and came back only at 5. I ate dinner with her at the breakfast bar, tteokbokki and orange juice again, not that I'm complaining. I told her to not refer to me as Ms. Baek and to call me Na bi. She said I could call her Mrs. Lee. She didn't speak much after that, just cleaned up everything and disappeared. Its almost 11 at night now, and I don't think I was really successful with anything today but I'm trying. One step at a time.

Oh and Changkyun didn't come home the whole day today.

Day 2

Changkyun did come home today.

I made it a point to wake up earlier than usual and as I got out of the room, I saw him, sitting at the breakfast bar, eating an omelette. But by the time I got down the stairs to approach him, he left. I don't know if he saw me or if he was ignoring me but I keep missing out on opportunities to talk to him.

I think I made a little more progress with Mrs. Lee though. If my eyes didn't betray me, she might have given a small smile when I thanked for coffee and my favourite breakfast, avocado toast and milk. I watched her again today - she has the exact same routine. She served me kimchi rice and orange juice at 12 and then by 3, she disappeared out of the back door. I followed her this time. There's this small garden at the back of the house with all sorts of vegetables and herbs but there was also a path, leading to a cottage. When I looked through the window, it seemed like Mrs. Lee was getting ready to nap. I think she lives there. It makes sense because there was no other room in the house that could belong to her. Which meant that locked room upstairs belonged to someone I don't know about.

Obviously I broke in. Somehow. I couldn't find a hairpin but I managed to grab a few old pens and do the trick. It was nothing like I expected though - it was a plain old bedroom, albeit bigger, brighter and disappointing. I was hoping to find something concrete here, anything at all, not just antique furniture and vintage dresses which oddly looked very similar to the ones I was dressed in when I first got here. I searched every inch of that place, there was truly nothing of value or even a clue hinting who it belonged to. Only Mrs. Lee could answer that question for me.

I wasn't really sure how to bring it up to her, so I just tried to make casual conversation about it using the dresses. I brought them down before dinner, showed it to her and-

Na bi looked up from her diary, the conversation replaying in her head.

"These clothes." She placed them on the kitchen counter. "I never got the chance to thank you for them."

"You don't have to thank me." Mrs. Lee glanced at them, mumbling. "I thought the red one would look nice on you."

"It is beautiful." Na bi sat down, softly running her fingers over the material. "I'm so sorry, it tore....are they yours?"

"Imagine a hag like me in dresses like that." Mrs. Lee scoffed. "It belonged to my mistress."

Na bi felt something sink in the pits of her stomach. "Mistress?"

"She loved dresses, had a huge collection in fact. A perfect one for every occasion." The use of past tense did not slip past Na bi. "A beautiful woman who only made the dresses she wore more beautiful."

"I should probably apologise to her then. Where is she...." Na bi trailed off looking at the woman's eyes become slightly wet.

"She was the sweetest thing alive. I don't think she would have minded. Master on the other hand, I'm afraid he was a little... displeased."

Na bi tugged the edges of the dress nonchalantly. "He must really love her."

"More than anything in the world." She sighed, slowing down her stirring. "That's why he's always hurting...."

Her voice softened as she looked at Na bi, eyes shaking like she spoke more than she should have. This was what Na bi wanted anyways - carefully guarded information being let slip. But she had to take it slow, to not raise any suspicions. And Mrs. Lee didn't seem like she was willing to let anything else slip as silence took over between them again.

-she said it belonged to her Mistress. Whoever she is, or was, either she doesn't live here anymore or she's dead, I don't know which. But it's proved Mingyu wrong. Changkyun cannot possibly be interested in me. Not when he had someone else in his life. Someone he cared enough about to still hold on to her personal belongings. Then why was he looking out for me? What do I mean to him?

Who knows? He could answer my questions, he's the only one who can but yet again, he didn't come home.

Day 3

Today I drew more of the map. I left the house before sunrise, followed the same route I took the time I first ran out of here and yet again, it took me to the beach. I passed almost 58 large trees, ran almost 3km west of the house to reach it. I still don't understand how I can possibly be near the sea. Where on Earth is this place?

I made sure to return in time for breakfast though, but Changkyun was not there today. I had toast and milk again and Mrs. Lee seemed more guarded than usual, perhaps after yesterday's slip up. But she didn't seem as unfriendly, maybe because I squeezed the orange juice for lunch by myself. When she was gone by 3, I knew what I wanted to do today - search through Changkyun's room. So I did just that, except today..... he was inside.

Na bi felt her hands shake as she recalled the encounter.

"Ms. Baek."

Na bi froze, hand on the handle as the voice boomed behind her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She turned around slowly, eyes falling on the not so large room with a really large table in the centre, Changkyun seated behind. 

"I uh...thought I heard you in here." She slowly walked in.

"Really?" He looked at her amused. "I'm known to be quiet as a cat."

Na bi gulped, clearing her throat. "You.... haven't been home in a while."

"Neither have you." He titled his head at her. "I stopped by your room this morning."

Na bi felt her heart hammering away in her chest.

"I....must've been in the shower."

"I didn't hear the water running."

"Oh then," Na bi looked away, at the fireplace, thinking quick. "You probably came when I was in the garden."

"You left the house?"

She stared at the flames harder, hoping not to give herself away. "Why? Am I not allowed to?"

"No." Na bi turned to him surprised as he continued. "There are no restrictions on you here Ms. Baek, you are free to do or go wherever you wish."

"Really? There's a room upstairs though....that you keep locked." She looked at him, trying not to seem too inquisitive, probably horribly failing at it. "Am I not allowed in there?"

"Can locked doors possibly keep you away?"

Na bi blinked at him. Did he know that she...

"That door has been like that for years." He clarified. "Simply locks every time it's closed."

"Oh." Na bi licked her lips, walking closer up to him, the contents of his table getting clearer with each step. "Then what about this room? Mrs. Lee stopped me from entering it a few days back."

He smiled. "Perhaps because entering someone's personal room in their absence is a sign of poor etiquette."

"Of course." Na bi glanced at the papers on his table, holding her breath as she did.

Maps. Hundreds of them. Much like the one stashed safely in her room, the one she was drawing out.

She looked up meeting his eye. "So you're not....hiding anything here?"

Changkyun leaned back, expression unreadable but he shook his head. "Not from you, no."

Why not though?

"What are all these then?" She pointed, stuffing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans so he couldn't see them shake.

"Maps of different areas in Seoul." He spread them out further, allowing her to take a closer look. "This is how I keep my business organised."

"Huh." She nodded, noticing red crosses and black circles scattered all over the papers. "What kind of um business do you-"

She jumped a little, at the sound of a strange static noise, unable to recognise its source.

"What's that sound?"

"My cue. I have to go, there's a meeting..." He got up and Na bi immediately took a few unnecessary steps back as he walked up to her. "Meanwhile, the reason I was looking for you..."

He handed her a familiar, shiny black device that felt cold in her palm.

"Wonho said you dropped it when he picked you up."

Her phone.

Na bi inwardly sighed in relief as she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal. Changkyun walked up to the door, donning a blazer over his trademark black shirt. Na bi followed him out, her mind still focused on the contents on the table. She knew she was far from done with this room.

He returned my phone to me but its as good as not having one. There's a crack, right across the camera lens, rendering any picture I take absolutely unfathomable. And I don't get any signal here, not one bar. I can't contact Mingyu or Seokmin, that phone is as good as a brick.

When Mrs. Lee came back, I helped her with making dinner. I know I'm no cook but I can follow instructions and I think I did a good job of it? She was afterall talking to me sweetly and even gave me an extra helping of her special homemade kimchi. Maybe I'm not far from making a friend here but Chankgyun.... I still can't figure him out.

I still don't get him.

Day 4

I covered the North side today.

It's.... its the same. Almost 5km of trees, trees and more trees and the end of it all, a beach. I'm getting a faint inkling as to where I actually am but..... I don't want to think about it. If what I'm assuming is true, I couldn't be more trapped.

Yet again I didn't see Changkyun for breakfast but I didn't see Mrs. Lee either. She was back in the garden, trying to deal with some weeds and dying tomatoes.

Fate, if its real, must be trying to help me because who knew better about gardening than I did. I think that hour we spent, fixing up those shrubs probably broke the last of the ice between us. Mrs. Lee was smiling more than usual, talking about the plants and all her recipes, and just seemed to have warmed up to me now. So I thought it wouldn't be too wrong to ask her the question.

"Mrs. Lee, I was trying to call a friend yesterday. You see I didn't get the chance to tell anyone I was going to be away, but I wasn't getting any signal? Is there.... is there any place where I can get better cell service or something?"

"Around here? No dear, there's no cell towers for miles." She tugged the weeds. "We don’t need them anyways, no one around here uses phones."

Na bi felt a wave of apprehension wash over her.

"Then... how do you contact people? Like your family?"

"Master is all the family I have." She smiled. "And need."

I think don't know if Mrs.Lee was telling the truth about the phones. But her statement did confirm something else I've been wondering - we're not the only ones, there are others. Others who lived around here and perhaps, they can help me understand more about this place. I just need to find them.

After lunch today, I wasn't able to explore anymore - Mrs. Lee needed help with the garden again. I wasn't able to extract any more information from her either, she was too focused on the task at hand. But over dinner, she did say something that surprised me.

"You really seem to like my kimchi."

Na bi took a break from shoving a huge bite into her mouth and looked up, nodding.

"I like everything you make. I don't get to eat much fresh food at home. I pretty much survive on kimbaps and instant noodles."

Mrs. Lee frowned at her, shaking her head. "You poor thing. Must be tough, having to eat those miserable packaged food."

"I don't really mind it." Na bi confessed. "I actually really like it-"

"Well you're not going to find any of that poison in this house." She crossed her arms. "I don't allow it. It's unhealthy and atrocious. Master is already picky with eating vegetables, imagine adding those preservatives to his system."

Na bi raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't eat vegetables? What a five year old."

"Indeed." Mrs. Lee broke into a fond smile. "You should've seen him when he was actually five. He wouldn't even take a bite of the kimbaps I used to make. Always spat it right out."

The image of his full cheeks as he munched on the kimbap in her home flashed in Na bi's head. I'm not picky.

"Thanks to you, I've been able to get him to eat at least a few vegetables a day. Even though he still insists on having some meat every meal-"

Na bi tried to swallow her bite quickly. "Because of me?"

"Yes you. I've been cooking more vegetarian dishes recently since, well, Master told me you're a vegetarian. And so I can..."

Na bi didn't hear anymore. Not with her mind full of thoughts.

He knows what I eat. He knows what I wear. He knows what I smell like. He knows everything yet I don't know why. Why did he bother to know so much? If like Mingyu said, he is interested in me, why hasn't he made any move, or even conversation?

I can't figure him out. I can't figure him out at all.

Day 5

Today morning I managed to cover the South side. It took considerably longer cause it was much larger, 10km at least, but to no one's surprise, ending at a beach. 3 directions, all ending at a beach, I think what I fear is true..... perhaps tomorrow I will be able to prove it.

But there was something I didn't see elsewhere - a helipad. At least that's what I'm guessing it is. It was just a large clearing in the woods, and by the way the impressions looked in the grass, that seemed like the most probable explanation. Yet another factor supporting my theory....

Also, I found out how they do it. Live without cell towers and phones that is.

Walkie talkies.

I saw Mrs. Lee talk into one over breakfast today. I don't know how I've never noticed it before, this black box like machine sitting in the corner of the kitchen counter. She said we were running out of rice and by the evening, there was a huge sack of it, sitting by the back door. I don't know much about walkie talkies and how they work, but I am aware that both parties need to be in a certain range. That's only further proof that there are others here, people who might be able to help me but also people I've never managed to catch sight of over the many days I've roamed around here. I need to explore the east side tomorrow. That might be the last piece to finish the puzzle of this place.

While Mrs. Lee took up most of my day, trying to teach me some simple recipes, I did manage to slip into Changkyun's room once again after lunch. There were no papers on the table this time, in fact it was completely empty. I tried looking through the drawers, the shelves - they were all empty.

The only other things in the room were a bed, a couch and a wardrobe. I looked through the wardrobe too - it was just a bunch of suits and hoodies that looked a whole lot more comfortable than the clothes kept in my room. Maybe that's why at that moment I decided to strip out of the really uncomfortable blouse I was wearing, into one of the hoodies....

"You really have a mind of your own don't you?"

Na bi knew before turning that Changkyun had just walked out of the bathroom; she had heard the water running. What she didn't expect was that he would be clad in nothing but his towel, hanging low on his waist, little rivets of water streaming down his torso. Na bi could not hide the way her eyes roamed over his body.

She cleared her throat, turning back to the wardrobe. "As should everyone."

As he began walking up to her, she grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt and threw it to him over her shoulder. The muffled sounds told her he had caught them and was slipping them on and it was only when she felt his breath on her neck that she knew he was done.

"You keep forgetting to breathe when you're around me Ms. Baek."

His voice was a soft whisper, making Na bi realise that she had indeed held her breath all this while and allowed herself to exhale. When she turned, she found herself trapped between him and the wardrobe behind her, her eyes flickering to between his lips and eyes. Changkyun raised his eyebrow as he looked pointedly at his grey hoodie which she had donned.

"You really oversold yourself with whole 'whatever you need will be arranged for' statement." She crossed her arms. "The clothes you filled my wardrobe with look like the personal collection of someone who cannot decide between being a victorian widow or a rebelious milkmaid from the alps."

Changkyun laughed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "I knew Wonho didn't know a thing about women's fashion."

Na bi blinked at him. "Wonho bought the clothes?" Changkyun nodded.

"How... how did he know about the... blue?"

"I told him."

"Did you also tell him the scent I use?"

Changkyun nodded but scoffed looking at her expression. "It's a colour and a smell Ms. Baek. I have good memory. You need not feel grateful for the bare minimum."

"Okay then, How did you know I was vegetarian?"

"I guessed? Based on the your eating habits."

"But you were barely with me for a day. How could you know?"

Changkyun grew silent for a minute, looking rather amused.

"Your questions are rather different from what I expected you to ask me Ms. Baek." He leaned closer, as though he was searching her face for something. "You're rather unpredictable."

Na bi wanted to laugh at that. Maybe she would have if Mrs. Lee didn't knock to call them for dinner. As Changkyun left, Na bi winced at the loss of his warmth and his scent around her. No, no, no. She had to snap out of it.

He had dinner with me for the first time today. Mrs. Lee was right, he was indeed picky with his food and his vegetables - he refused to even touch the kimbap. He really had enjoyed the one I made him though. I don't know if he liked my food or dare I say, if he likes me....

I don't think I'll ever know.

Day 6

I was supposed to explore the east side today but I couldn't - Changkyun was home all day.

He was there eating breakfast with me. He was there, playing the piano as I pretended to read through my books. He was there for lunch, and there when Mrs. Lee took her usual siesta. We played chess all afternoon, which he, not surprisingly, ended up winning. I let him win - it was our first game afterall. I wanted to crack his gameplay more than I wanted to defeat him, see how his brain works, figure out how he thinks. He's..... straightforward. He wasn't hiding behind any moves, or playing any mind games. He was simple and upfront. I don't understand him any more than before.

After that I caught him leaving the house so this time I asked him where he was going. He said for a swim and asked if I wanted to join. I probably shouldn't have but....

Na bi followed Changkyun out of the back door of the house, walking the opposite direction of Mrs. Lee's cottage. She hadn't had the chance to explore the east side yet so she took each step behind him carefully, looking around as she moved. When the trees cleared before her and Changkyun moved out of her view, her eyes fell on a water spring, pouring out from behind stacked rocks into a small pool reflecting the blue of the skies and white of the clouds.

Na bi stared at it wordlessly, missing the moment Changkyun stripped out of his shirt and pants and jumped into the water, disappearing under it. Coming back to her senses with the splash of droplets all over her, she looked around in the dead emptiness of the woods.

Changkyun’s head appeared above the water, hand pushing back the dark hair sticking to his face as did the familiar sight of his drenched, sculpted abs. He looked at her, head tilted, eyes questioning.

"I... don't know how to swim." Na bi confessed. The pool didn't look too deep, one definitely didn't need to know how to swim to get in there but Changkyun didn't point  that out as she pulled her pants up to her knees and sat on a rock, legs dangling in the waters.

Instead, he smirked. "Did you offer to come along just to watch me Ms. Baek?"

"Maybe." Na bi answered truthfully, trying not to let her eyes wander anywhere below his neck. Changkyun chuckled, disappearing under the water again, as Na bi relished the feeling of the cool waters around her legs.

He swam around for a while, submerging himself for long periods of time like a child trying to see how long he could hold his breath under water. Sometimes Na bi panicked when she didn't see him come up soon enough, but he always came up - the man could clearly hold his breath for a ridiculously long time.

As the sun began to set, the cool waters started feeling a lot colder, making Na bi pull her feet out, shivering. Watching her Changkyun got out, shaking the water off like a wet dog, making her cover herself, looking away. Grinning like a child, he walked away and to her surprise, began collecting a bunch of sticks and twigs from here and there. In five minutes, he stacked them all and pulled out his lighter from the pocket of the discarded pant and started a fire.

Na bi scooted closer to the flames as he dried himself off beside it and sadly, dressed himself up again. When he sat down across her, poking the sticks, she slowly began questioning him.

"So this is what you do around here?" She rubbed her hands warm. "Play the piano, swim out here, all alone?"

"When I have the time yeah." He replied, nodding. "Which is not often. I'm usually far too busy with my business to find time for such things."

What kind of business?

Strangely, Na bi felt bad for him. He didn't look like he was much older than her which meant he was in his late twenties too. She wondered how it was, living a life so isolated, so alone, so far away, in the shadows. She liked being alone too but his life seemed so.... lonely.

"I can't imagine. I've been here barely a week and I feel like I'm already losing my mind."

"Go out then." He stated like it was the obvious solution. "Some city air should help."

"Wait I..." Na bi tried not to look too shocked. "I can leave this place?"

"Of course Ms. Baek." He glanced at her amused. "You're not my prisoner."

"No I just.... thought it was too dangerous for me out there?"

"It is, but Wonho and my men can accompany you, make sure you're safe when you're out."

Of course, she would still have company, of course she'll still be watched. But she had to get out, she had to meet Mingyu somehow, tell him everything she found out so far.

"And when will I be able to go back home?" She added. "My home."

Changkyun took a deep breath. "Soon. I admit we haven't made much, actually, any progress on finding those who are after you but hopefully....soon."

"Well I can't stay here forever. My suspension ends in less than 2 weeks, I need to be back at work, back at home."

"You may return whenever you wish Ms. Baek. Today, tomorrow or in 2 weeks. I can arrange for your protection wherever you choose to be." His gaze pierced her. "I meant it when I said I'll look out for you."

Why why why Changkyun?

Na bi wanted to ask him, she wanted to ask him so much more but there was something about the silence that fell between them that didn't allow her to talk. She...liked it. She had often craved for a silence this comfortable and warm and to find it here was.....terrifying.

It persisted till the fire finally burnt out, submerging them in the darkness of the evening, dimly lit by the swarms of fireflies. Changkyun finally got up, brushing off the dried twigs and leaves off his pants, as Na bi  struggled to do the same with her foot fast asleep. Laughing at her stumbling movements, he walked up and pulled her onto her feet, her hands flying to find their place against his chest, face inches away from his.

You could put her at gunpoint but it was moments like this that Na bi dreaded more. Moments where she was so physically close to him that her defences, her inhibitions, everything crumbled down, overwhelmed by the desire to just feel him against her, just once.

But then Ana's image flashed in her head. Her lying sprawled on a forest floor much like this, all that blood.... this was sick. This man was a murderer, this man killed her friend, yet she... she couldn't do this. She shouldn't do this.

Before she could separate herself from him, it was Changkyun who pulled away, not meeting her eye.

"The temperature tends to drop fast around here after sunset. We should head back." And with that he walked away, leaving her to follow him, perplexed by his behaviour as always.

My clothes are all here. All that blue miserableness in the closet is gone, Changkyun arranged for my own clothes to be brought from home. I showered for longer than usual today. I don't know, I just felt strangely dirty.

Then I had dinner with him again. Mrs. Lee was the only one who spoke the whole time though. I couldn't find any words to say to him, he didn't seem to have any either. After dinner he informed me that Wonho will take me wherever I want to go tomorrow.... I need to figure out how to meet Mingyu. The map isn't fully done but I need to tell him whatever I know and to give him... 

Na bi looked up from her diary at the gun on the table.

She found it, in the pile of clothes Changkyun had discarded before he jumped into the waters. She'd recognise it anywhere - it was the same one he had on him the night he came to her house. The same one who's bullets implicated her in this mission with the NIS. Perhaps the same one that committed many crimes.

She just needed to get it to Mingyu somehow. She would've given it to him too. If only.....

Next chapter

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[cheetahspy]

Ledger!Joker x Diabetic Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Medical stuff, needles/injections (it’s not very descriptive though), slight NSFW mention (labeled at the bottom)

A/N: Heya! I’ve never posted something like this before haha…Kinda new to it and very nervous so don’t judge me too harshly. I actually write quite often but rarely post it, however I really wanna start trying to put my work out there more. Keyword try. 

Anyway, fun fact about me, I have T1 diabetes. I haven't seen anything about that with J so I decided to make my own headcanons and such :) Sooooo here’s that lol…enjoy??

You had been diagnosed with T1 diabetes three years ago. You hated it. The needles, the upkeep, the blood, the appointments. It’s scary, a living nightmare for you.

You were still in your…adjusting phase, and didn’t like talking about your diabetes to anyone. Joker was no exception

So, naturally, J took matters into his own hands and did his own research, learning as much as he could about diabetes (without you knowing, of course). How it works, the high and low blood sugar levels, how to manage it, he even figured out how the insulin pump that you have operates. 

You were shocked the day he offered to change the infusion set for you and knowing how to do so. He ignored you when you asked him how he knew.

You were hesitant but quick to give in and let him inject the cannula into your stomach. He hugged you from behind as he did so; you melted into his touch and your fears were comforted. From that day on you opened up more and more about your medical life to J and allowed his help. 

He enjoys being the one to inject the cannula and dexcom, however he still forces you to do it yourself at times, as to make sure you aren’t getting too used to being dependent on someone else. You’re a strong and brave bunny, he wants to remind you of that. 

He will tease you about your dexcom and infusion sets, saying you must be part machine. 

“I’m uh, still convinced you’re a cyborg.” “J!!”

He also forces you to stay on a healthy diet and keeps track of your sugar intake carefully. He’s definitely not a hypocrite. He rarely lets you eat junk food, even though you’re allowed to and tried explaining that to him

“The doctors told me it’s okay if I eat sugar now and then, as long as I have the insulin for it. It’s the sugary drinks I need to avoid more.” 

J doesn’t buy it, nor does he trust your doctor's input. “Mmm. Nuh uh. Can’T have my little bunny go falling into a coma, hm?” You know he’s just concerned about you (even if he’d never outright admit it), so overtime you stopped arguing with him and avoided junk food to ease his mind. Just don’t let him catch you eating it behind his back.

J absentmindedly fidgets with your insulin tube. Rubbing along it, flicking it around, twirling it around his finger, even constantly feeling the cannula end of it against your stomach as if to reassure himself you that it’s still on and doing its job. Don’t worry, he’s only accidentally ripped it out once or twice, and he certainly makes it up to you when that happens. 

Having a low, but forgot sugar to combat it? Not to worry! Joker keeps a juice box or two in his suit juuuust for you. He’s even stacked packages of juices in your pantry so you’ll have plenty. (Don’t ask whether he bought or stole them, you already know the answer)

The low blood sugar episodes hit you hard, but you’ve found curling up on J’s lap and cuddling against his chest while sipping on juice is very comforting. He’ll stroke your hair and rub your back, holding you closer whenever you shake and cry.

“Shhhh sh sh sh. It’s nothin’ you haven’t beaten before. It’ll pass, angel.” 

You hate looking at your stomach and seeing the previous holes and scars from constant injections. J will run his thumb over them and kiss each of them to comfort you. 

Whenever you have a headache or any symptoms, J will immediately interrogate you about your blood sugar level

“Not every pain I get is caused by my diabetes.”

“Shuuuuush. What’re levels right now? Let me uh, lemme see your pum-p. Give. Right. Now.” 

If you’re low on insulin and the pharmacist is late to sending you new vials, J will meet with them personally to have a little chat. 

He’ll then come home and plop the bag of new vials theatrically down on the counter. “Tadaaaa! More insulin for my sweet little sugar cube.”

“Oh, thank you J! Wow, they gave me a lot this time…” 

NSFW:

During the ✨devils tango✨, J will occasionally rip the cannula out by accident. He’ll immediately put a pin in your lovemaking session to get you a new one. Even if you insist you could go an hour or two without it, he’s not taking any chances. After all, where’s the fun in sex if your partner is dying from a seizure??

“J, I promise it’s okay! We don’t have to sto-”

“Now now gumdrop. I know you’re, heh, eager for me, but my patient needs her medicine first.” 

You’re grateful you don’t have to deal with your disability alone anymore. Who knew the Clown Prince of Crime could be such a good caretaker?

[knickynoo]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for the ask! This was a fun one.

[meg2md]

I don't know that I like third year. It's an adjustment. I'm sure it will be fine, eventually. But it's hard, and it's a different vibe, and it's struggling to find my place.

Looking at the interns, I do see how far I've come. I was in their shoes, once: struggling to find a cervix, falling behind with inductions/mag notes/strip notes/postpartum calls, scared of decelerations, unsure how to piece the clinical picture of labor together. I'm efficient with things I know how to do. Keep me to ante/gyne and I'm ON TOP of blood pressures, blood sugars, consults, antepartum calls etc. I feel pretty good about up-titrating blood pressure medications, deducing superimposed preeclampsia from chronic hypertension exacerbations, managing PPROM +/- PTL. I've read a lot. I think my signouts are decent.

But now as a third year, the antepartum "chief", I am really, really struggling. Now I have to delegate. I need to figure out what things I do, what things I have the second year do. When my actual R4 L&D chief is off the floor, I'm then in charge of everything (including training the day 3 intern). What's REALLY hard is the power dynamics. I'm in charge of the antepartum service, but my R4 is still in charge of me. And then on top of that, different R4s have different opinions, and then I get caught in the middle!!! A patient came into triage today, ruptured with twins, concern for preterm labor. I was told to let the R2 see her. I did, then sent the R2 home. Then the night team told me I should have seen her instead. And the R2 should be doing XYZ. And my signout wasn't well-prepared enough about her (even though I thought it was decent). Which to the first point, like, fair. I tried to have my R2 doing the XYZ. But I was also told to have her see the triage patient. So then it's like I'm in charge, but actually I'm in "charge", and the different people who are ACTUALLY in charge have different ideas about how to do things, but then it's either I take the blame or throw someone else under the bus.

And obviously, there are learning points. I can always know more about the patients. I think I did a fine job, especially since I've been on MFM/antepartum for TWO MONTHS STRAIGHT, but I do need to know the patients I don't admit a little better. And when my R4 can't come to signout, I really should know the floor better. These are things that will come with time, I'm sure. I am three days into my first time being a senior. I'm learning not only how to cover an ENTIRE service, but also how to manage an intern who needs to learn, well, literally everything. And can't do anything by herself yet. (Like I said, it's fine, we were all there at some point.)

But it's really, really hard to be told to do your job different ways from different people, and then you have to take responsibility for it anyway, and also you're supposed to be in charge of a service but you're not really.

And also, I have tomorrow off, but there's still hot as fuck drying equipment all over my apartment, and it's ninety degrees in here, and I can't play PC games without tripping the breaker. So I guess I'll just sit alone in the heat and be miserable.

Oh well. I ranted to like. Three of my friends. And here. I'll feel better eventually. Residency is really hard, and in really unexpected ways.

[susantaylor01]

A Comprehensive Diet Plan for Managing Hypoglycemia

Introduction

Hypoglycemia, often referred to as low blood sugar, is a condition characterized by abnormally low levels of glucose in the blood. Glucose is the primary source of energy for the body’s cells, and maintaining its levels within a healthy range is crucial for optimal functioning. Hypoglycemia can cause symptoms like shakiness, dizziness, confusion, and in severe cases, unconsciousness. A well-structured diet plan is essential for managing hypoglycemia, as it helps stabilize blood sugar levels and prevent episodes of low blood sugar.

Understanding Hypoglycemia

Before diving into the diet plan, it’s important to understand the types and causes of hypoglycemia. Hypoglycemia can be classified into two categories:

Reactive Hypoglycemia: This occurs within a few hours after eating, often due to an excessive insulin response that drives blood sugar levels too low.

Fasting Hypoglycemia: This type occurs when blood sugar drops after fasting or going without food for an extended period.

Common causes of hypoglycemia include diabetes management (particularly insulin or medication use), prolonged fasting, excessive alcohol consumption, and certain medical conditions. Regardless of the cause, a balanced diet plays a critical role in managing the condition.

Key Principles of a Hypoglycemia Diet Plan

The goal of a diet plan for hypoglycemia is to maintain steady blood glucose levels throughout the day. Here are the key principles:

Frequent Small Meals: Eating smaller, more frequent meals (every 3-4 hours) helps prevent large fluctuations in blood sugar levels. This approach keeps glucose levels stable and provides a constant source of energy.

Balanced Macronutrients: Each meal should include a combination of complex carbohydrates, protein, and healthy fats. This balance helps slow the absorption of glucose into the bloodstream and provides a steady release of energy.

Focus on Complex Carbohydrates: Complex carbohydrates, such as whole grains, vegetables, and legumes, are digested more slowly than simple sugars, preventing rapid spikes and drops in blood sugar levels.

Include Protein in Every Meal: Protein helps slow down carbohydrate absorption and keeps you feeling full longer. Good sources include lean meats, fish, eggs, dairy products, legumes, and nuts.

Healthy Fats: Incorporating healthy fats like those found in avocados, nuts, seeds, and olive oil can help stabilize blood sugar and provide long-lasting energy.

Avoid Simple Sugars and Refined Carbs: Foods high in refined sugars and simple carbohydrates, such as candy, sugary drinks, and white bread, can cause rapid spikes followed by sharp drops in blood sugar levels.

Stay Hydrated: Proper hydration is essential, as dehydration can worsen the symptoms of hypoglycemia. Water, herbal teas, and electrolyte-balanced drinks are good choices.

Sample Diet Plan for Hypoglycemia

Here’s a sample one-day meal plan designed to help manage hypoglycemia:

Breakfast:

- Oatmeal: Made with rolled oats, topped with sliced almonds, chia seeds, and a handful of fresh berries.

- Greek Yogurt: A small serving of unsweetened Greek yogurt for added protein.

Mid-Morning Snack:

- Apple Slices with Nut Butter: An apple sliced and spread with almond or peanut butter.

- Hard-Boiled Egg: For extra protein.

Lunch:

- Grilled Chicken Salad: Mixed greens with grilled chicken, quinoa, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and a dressing made from olive oil and lemon juice.

- Whole-Grain Crackers: A small serving for added complex carbohydrates.

Afternoon Snack:

- Hummus with Veggies: Carrot sticks, celery, and bell pepper slices dipped in hummus.

- Mixed Nuts: A small handful of unsalted mixed nuts.

Dinner:

- Baked Salmon: A portion of baked salmon served with steamed broccoli and sweet potatoes.

- Brown Rice: A small serving for added complex carbohydrates.

Evening Snack:

- Cottage Cheese: A small serving of cottage cheese topped with a few slices of avocado.

- Berries: A handful of mixed berries.

Additional Tips

Monitor Portion Sizes: Eating too much at one time can cause blood sugar levels to spike and then crash. Pay attention to portion sizes and avoid overeating.

Limit Alcohol: If you consume alcohol, do so in moderation and never on an empty stomach, as it can lower blood sugar levels.

Keep Emergency Snacks Handy: In case of a hypoglycemic episode, keep snacks like glucose tablets, juice boxes, or a small pack of crackers nearby.

Consult with a Healthcare Professional: It’s important to work with a healthcare provider or a registered dietitian to create a personalized plan that suits your individual needs and medical condition.

Simple Technique To Help Manage Blood Sugar

Conclusion

Managing hypoglycemia through diet requires careful planning and consistency. By eating balanced meals regularly, focusing on nutrient-dense foods, and avoiding simple sugars, individuals with hypoglycemia can better control their blood sugar levels and reduce the risk of low blood sugar episodes. Remember, each person’s nutritional needs are different, so it’s essential to tailor the diet plan to your specific condition and lifestyle.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

How much caffeine can a gallifreyan body handle at one time before the incursion of significant consequences? (my gallifreyan is trying to push their limit of minimum required rest so they can marathon a show)

How much caffeine can a Gallifreyan handle?

🧠 Gallifreyan Physiology and Caffeine

Gallifreyan bodies are very resilient and can process substances more efficiently than humans. Here's a quick breakdown:

Enhanced Metabolism: Gallifreyan metabolic rates are significantly higher, allowing them to process and eliminate substances quickly.

Advanced Detoxification: They can break down toxins more effectively, reducing the risk of adverse effects from high caffeine intake.

Stamina and Energy Management: A more efficient energy management system allows Gallifreyans to naturally stay alert and active for longer periods without needing rest.

☕ Caffeine Tolerance

Given these physiological advantages, here's how much caffeine a Gallifreyan might handle compared to humans:

Humans: The average safe limit for humans is around 400 mg of caffeine per day (roughly four cups of coffee, a limit I do not stick to).

Gallifreyans: Considering their superior detoxification and metabolism, they could probably safely handle approximately 4-5 times this amount, potentially up to 2000 mg per day.

⚠️ Potential Consequences

While Gallifreyans can tolerate more caffeine, there are still limits:

Mild Overconsumption (2000-3000 mg)

Symptoms: Increased heart rate, jitteriness, anxiety, insomnia, psionic weirdness.

Management: Staying hydrated, meditating, and taking short breaks can mitigate these effects. A quick nap in the Zero Room can work wonders.

Significant Overconsumption (3000+ mg)

Symptoms: Severe restlessness, palpitations, high blood pressure, psionic madness, and potential strain on their double cardiovascular system.

Management: Immediate rest and possible medical intervention, especially if symptoms worsen.

🚀 Optimising Caffeine Intake

To push their limits safely:

Moderation: Stick to under 2000 mg to avoid significant consequences.

Hydration: Drink plenty of water to help process the caffeine.

Nutrition: Consume balanced meals to support metabolic processes.

Breaks: Short, periodic rests or meditation can prevent caffeine from accumulating excessively.

🏫 So ...

A Gallifreyan pushing their caffeine limits could safely consume up to 2000 mg of caffeine daily, with careful monitoring and appropriate self-care. However, even they have limits and should ensure adequate rest to avoid severe consequences.

Related:

Are there any foods that Gallifreyans can eat that humans can’t?: What foods Gallifreyans could eat that humans don’t, with some theoretical examples.

How much sugar causes hyperactivity In Gallifreyans?: Overview of the sugar metabolism in Gallifreyans and theoretical limitations.

Factoid: Are there any fruits my Gallifreyan should avoid in their diet?

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[ultimateheadcanontournament]

Round Two

Sniper

"LORD THIS IS SUPER SPECIFIC LMAO. OK FOR THOSE NOT IN THE TF2 COMMUNITY:

Sniper has a secondary weapon called Jarate, which. Im not sugar-coating it. Its piss in a jar. Sniper has the bladder of a god and can refill a jar of piss in 20 seconds. I dont need to tell you that its not normal for that to happen. If I do, please consult your doctor.

Sniper develops this… superpower by taking Saxton Hale Jarate Pills, which supposedly tripled the size of his kidneys (and caused massive organ failure, which he supposedly cant feel because of the hale brand painkillers). Now, something super important to note: Saxton Hale is a fraud GASP. Its a well known fact that Hale's products are horrible, bottom of the barrel, sad excuses for products. He sells rocket launchers that can't even kill a man on direct hit.

NOW, I CAN ADDRESS THE NON-TF2 AND TF2 COMMUNITY AS EQUALS:

IF SAXTON SELLS SUCH SHIT PRODUCTS, WHY WOULD THE JARATE PILLS ACTUALLY WORK, AND WHY WOULD THE PAINKILLERS WORK?? HALE PROBABLY THINKS PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS THIS MAN HAS 0 CLUE HOW ANATOMY WORKS.

Now, here's where the headcanon, dare i say FACT comes in: the biggest symptom of diabetes is lots and lots of piss. Other symptoms include abdomonal pain, which sniper can mistake as organ failure. Now why would Sniper never progress far enough to die of diabetes if he thinks its the pills?

Simple! Medic's medigun is a device that can restore cut off limbs, bullet holes, and my proposal: restore blood sugar to its normal levels. Medic probably knows but just keeps forgetting to tell him / thinks its funnier he doesnt know, and schedules regular medigun appointments to make sure Sniper doesnt die of what diabetes was once known as- pissing disease.

But behold! The piss rabbit hole deepens! Im 1800 characters deep talking about my piss headcanons why the fuck not right?? After the teams disband, Medic (finally) tells Sniper he has diabetes. He learns to manage it, leading up to the events of the comics- where sniper has access to needles. NEEDLES!!! THE SAME KIND I BASICALLY HAVE, A DIABETIC. We even KNOW Sniper has no reasonable reason for them- he has no poison (he injects them with moonshine), and while he IS a mercenary who enjoys his job (snipin's a good job mate), you can argue he'd want to keep his personal life and work life very separate, weaponry and poisons included. Sniper had the needles to administer insulin, especially since we know its just the needles, no poison or extra materials nearby. He literally says its his PARENTS house, why the hell would he bring weapons over that would bother them?

To summarize, Sniper has a lot pointing to either massively humongous kidneys, or diabetes. He shows classic symptoms, had access to 'treatment' without knowing it, and later shows up with needles at his disposal in an environment where he really shouldn't have needles. Ur honor, i rest my 3000 character long piss case."

"just show the jarate thanks. sorry for saying piss so much i absolutely know you didnt think you'd be reading piss headcanons but i genuinely love the idea that sniper has diabetes, as a diabetic myself. It just comes with the side effect that the main reason i headcanon it is entirely around fucking piss. I hope life is kind to you stranger :)"

Cinderella

"Cinderella was a trans woman and that's why no other woman in the entire kingdom had the same-sized shoes as her"

[clatterbane]

This shit is making me a little nervous, ngl. Maybe an hour ago, I went ahead and ate this pretty yummy tteokbokki cup (with some added kimchi and cheese), which I had actually been holding off on because it usually it is likely to hit my blood sugar like a truck even with loading up on plenty of insulin beforehand. Normally I would start out with 4 units in advance, and be prepared to get like 2-4 more units in later to cover that amount of concentrated particularly high glycemic rice carbs. By this time after eating it, I would likely be reaching for the insulin as the graph is shooting up into the red above the top range lines there. It's enough of a PITA that I just haven't felt like dealing with that enough to eat the thing.

But, tonight? One unit in advance just because it felt like maybe I shouldn't push my luck that hard to go totally without, and this is what the graph is doing:

(That's a new sensor put on yesterday, and it's wanting to be particularly noisy in the readings. Just ignore the aggravating spikiness of that line. I have double checked by finger sticks to calibrate, and it is accurate enough down the middle.)

Going by recent experience, I may actually need to grab a sweet snack before long, to keep that one freaking unit of insulin for a carb-dense meal from crashing my blood sugar right about when I want to go to bed.

Yeah, my three (3) remaining beta cells have apparently all decided to wake up at the same time recently, and go back to work cranking out their own insulin specifically in response to eating. And particularly later in the day. They seem to be night owls too.

It's apparently not unusual for later-onset folks like me to keep some level of insulin production going for longer. Which can change unpredictably.

Don't know if you can even call it a "honeymoon" at this point, since I do seem to be Stubborn Beta Cells Georg. They are still pulling this shit over 15 years in. That's kinda how the extended NHS medical negligence didn't just flat out kill me much faster. Kept limping along with just enough production to keep me progressively sicker and developing complications but only half-dead until that huge crash. Don't know how they managed it, or how they are this persistent even after it looked like they had finally keeled over for good. But, they're still going enough normally that I the endo has been surprised at how relatively little insulin I do normally need.

Some decent backup does seem to have let them recover enough to occasionally come back to work part time, though. This is just the biggest effort they've put in again so far. It's fucking weird.

Impossible to tell when that stubborn handful of beta cells will decide to go back on strike again, of course. But yeah, may as well take advantage of it while it lasts. Thus the post-midnight rice cake snack to begin with!

Maybe I should go ahead and cook some of the real deal over the weekend. I bought some tteokbokki a while back, because I do love it, but hadn't quite psyched myself up to fix it yet. May go for a cheesy variation, because why not.

Not my pic, but it is making me hungry.

[relastelvanni]

📖 2022

The week leading up to Christmas 2021, I was unwell. I was feeling very fatigued and burnt out as we all were. There wasn’t a lot of sun so I was likely Vitamin D deficient, right? Also I somehow lost 10 lbs between October and December without trying which didn’t match what I was eating - probably stress? Oh, but I feel really thirsty, and I can’t seem to quench it… that’s an odd symptom I can’t explain with burnout. It was that symptom that made me test my fasting blood sugars and sure enough, they were way over into diabetic levels.

🚨

On Hogmanay as I rushed to get my booster before the bells, I also went to the GP as an emergency for my blood test. The results came back and my GP wanted to talk urgently. On Jan 5th I was officially diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes and put onto metformin straight away. This began a whirlwind of a year.

On the outside I seemed calm, on the inside I was a ball of emotion, but mostly shame. Shame that after years of warnings this could happen, I had to tell people what had happened. I felt guilt for making people around me worry for my health. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was okay and they didn’t have to worry about me. Maybe not a healthy attitude to take but from the moment I left that Doctor’s surgery and took a 2.5 mile walk home, I decided I was going for remission, end of.

I immediately went on a low carb diet of 130g of carbs a day and stuck to it religiously, I did not break 130g or tried not to. No cheat days, no snacking. Again, perhaps not the healthiest thing to do but I couldn’t bring myself to eat high carbs again. I started walking a lot more, walking three miles home from work in the winter. I went swimming, I got a bike through the cycle to work scheme. But most of all was the diet. It was tough and there were times I felt like crying. But my head told me “I put myself in this situation, you don’t deserve sympathy”. Urgh, silly head.

But despite that negative mindset, the physical side improved quickly. My sugars fell rapidly most importantly and as a by-product, I lost 15 lbs in the first month, followed by another 15 lbs in the second, starting at 255 lbs and ending March around 210.

Now those who know me will know I had no problem with my weight before - I was very happy as a chubby person because I went on a journey over the past few years of learning to love my body, throw off the shame I held against my body and show it off at the beach and the pool etc. So the weight loss for me was such a sudden shift in mindset too. I was back very quickly to a body I had before I learned to love my body… and societal pressure came back. That’s been a struggle this year is loving my new body without need for validation externally.

But in terms of the diabetes, by the end of March, I had my hbA1c checked again… and I was no longer diabetic! I had managed, with the tablets, to get the diabetes into remission. I can’t tell you how proud I am to have got to this point. All the hard work and hardship I put my mental state through was worth the result.

Over the next three months I relaxed the diet a wee bit and let myself eat a little more, but no where near the levels I was at before. My weight finally stabilised at around 180 lbs which is where I’m at now, meaning in total from max weight, I’ve lost 85 lbs in the last year. But more importantly, at the end of June, my HbA1c was still at a non diabetic level, this time without medication.

Since June, my weight has been stable, my sugars are still down, I’ve taken up badminton 2-3 times a week to keep me active physically (and mentally too). I feel fantastic physically and I’m so happy I’ve managed to turn around the diabetes. I still need to work on my mental state and work on some of those troublesome feelings I had at the start of the year as well as others. But aye, long post, but I’m still here, still going. Hopefully 2023 I’ll stay in remission. All the best to everyone 💛