#maybe. MAYBE. I can function and live and manage shit. MAYBE!!! WE'LL SEE.

[musical-chick-13]

Holy shit, this new specialist actually took the time to explain everything that was going on, clearly did all the needed insurance research, and assured me that they will keep appealing my case if the pre-authorization I need ends up falling through for some reason, AND actually listened to all of my symptoms, I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO CRY

[swiftsdelucaa]

oooh oooh can I request something for greys anatomy?

Dr. Derek McDreamy x fem reader!

Maybe reader is a toxicologist and works with toxins and how they effect living organisms. Derek and reader meet because reader is helping identify a toxin that was found in one of their paitents. The rest can be up to you?

(just in case it needed to be addressed a toxicologist still holds the Dr. title, so dr l/n)

❛ 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 ❜

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Derek Shepherd x reader ♡

𝘼/𝙣: I did some research for some details, I hope you'll enjoy this! :)

Derek Shepherd, one of the most famous and brilliant neurosurgeons in the world. How can anyone not admire him? Everything he did could also be done with his eyes closed, who wouldn't want to have his talent?

Well, other than that, if you watched him you might end up melting.

He could exterminate any tumor or aneurysm, anything, yet something was wrong. When he came to ask you for a consultation you didn't believe it. It was a patient who had been under treatment for two weeks now, for epilepsy attacks, and the situation was getting worse. You did every exam you could, but a mystery remained.

This was all getting more stressful, but on the bright side, you got to know each other better. You can also understand each other immediately. Like if this was destiny...

"How is going today?" you asked him as soon as you entered the room.

"It's getting worse day by day, and I still haven't figured out what's wrong" he said in frustration putting a hand on his forehead. You sat next to him.

"What if it didn't concern the brain? We focused only on that" you said looking at the tests done.

"Maybe... But we should find out where it comes from and we don't have enough tests" he added.

Let's say you weren't one to give up right away, it was one of the perks of your job. You wouldn't let yourself give up until you found the problem, no matter how long it took.

"Holy shit" Derek stood abruptly.

"What?"

"I have to go, it's a 911" you understood it was your patient.

When Derek returned you started scanning and checking again, and the day seemed to go by faster. He left, disappointed again. You stayed there all night, and decided to go with your instincts and run exams everywhere.

When you finally found the problem it was like a dream.

"Doctor Shepherd!!!" you stood up as soon as he arrived, with a huge smile on your face and holding up the papers in your hand.

"No- You've-" he stopped in near disbelief.

"Yes, I have!" he began to smile too.

"Hepatic encephalopathy. It is a toxin that originates from the liver and disturbs its functioning, probably it must have been spread in the blood and may have reached the brain, damaging it. The symptoms coincide, I checked everything. It is not very easy to diagnose, but with all the exams we have, we finally made it!" he hugged you.

"For the cure we'll have to prescribe him a therapy" you added after detached yourself from him. "But now I absolutely need a coffee" you said dropping into the chair.

"You deserve it!" he said giving you a McDreamy smile.

After recovering, you went to the patient's room and began to explain the case to him. With the time and patience, if the therapy manages to have a positive effect, hopefully a speedy recovery.

While all the two of you needed was some rest and quieter days.

Towards evening, you returned to your studio to pack your things to going home.

"Hey" Derek walked over to you leaning against the edge of the door.

"Hey, everything okay?" you asked him.

"Yes yes, now I'll go home too" you smiled at him and settled the last things.

"Doctor l/n" he caught your attention. You looked up at him.

"Are you free to go out some time?" you were surprised by his question.

"It's a date?" you asked approaching him.

"Maybe..."

"Umh, yes, I'd like... McDreamy" you smiled at him.

"Wow, since when all this confidence?" he asked ironically. You just laughed as he looked at you and your eyes met.

"Well, see you Y/n"

[localsharkcryptid]

It's late as hell but doodled this on a whim - idk I've managed to get myself back into monster hunter and I've just been thinking about Chaotic Gore Magala and myself and the weird similarities I've realized between my life and this guy's existence. Big explanation under the cut - it's kinda heavy so read at your own discretion.

I don't talk about it here for obvious reasons but this is a one off cause idk, I wanna talk about it under this context. But basically I've been through some shit, I've been battered by life and have been dealing with grief since I was 12 - and I'm now going through it again. I'm damaged cause of it, I'm not where I should be as a person, I don't function like I should both thanks to neurodivergency and the trauma that's kept my brain from properly developing and learning skills for adult life for some 8 years or so. And only recently have I been going to therapy again and working on healing after the most recent incident in my life - so I'm recognizing things and slowly slowly healing but I can't help being frustrated especially lately.

And now I can't help but now look at this monster from a video game about hunting them and see myself in a way. For those who don't know, Gore Magala normally is a monster which goes through a metamorphosis of sorts - they shed their black and purple scales and grow into a brilliant golden beast, the shining eclipse, Shagaru Magala. But sometimes something goes wrong, whether it be trauma or something else and the Gore Magala can't shed properly. They become malformed, into the chimeric creature that is Chaotic Gore Magala - a monster in eternal agony as it is an abomination and thus an outcast by its own kind.

I merely assume this but for me, I'd like to think its endless rage is also fueled by the fact that it has to be confused, lost and alone. It doesn't know what's going on, why it's like this, why the world scorns it for something it can't control. It endures the pain of its existence, the scars from its malformation and maybe it screams at the world cause it wants to know why it lived. Why is it here? Why does it hurt? What is it supposed to do? It lashes out at anything it finds, maybe out of rage, maybe out of fear - who knows.

Its broken, but survives regardless. It persists despite it all and I do just see myself in a way. We both don't know what's going on, damaged permanently by things we couldn't control but we continue on.

And I'm healing, slowly, very slowly but I am and I can't help but wonder- what if a Chaotic Gore can heal too? What happens if it does? Does it still shed it's black scales and turn fully gold or does it remain an oddity with dark shelled scales that are cracked with gold and a single glinting horn? I'd like to think the latter would be true. That it learns to adapt and live with its odd form, that one day the pain eases so it can truly come into the world as the apex it was meant to be - even if it wasn't how it was supposed to do so. And if it can find a place in the world after beating the odds of surviving the pain, then maybe I can find my place too.

Idk it's all a little silly, and not exactly fitting 100% - I'm far less angry at the world most of the time but still... I think I might have a new favorite monster, even if it's for some odd reasons, I do relate in a weird way to this guy- I may make something of this we'll see I guess.

[skiptomy]

Vent post; feel free to ignore unless you have very specific advice for how to live as a disabled artist in an increasingly hostile world.

Feeling less than stellar as of late. I'm trying to come to terms with my disability, but it's so fuckin hard cause I still live in a world that needs so much from me. I feel like I'm constantly dipping in and out of burnout. (Which makes a lot fuckin more sense now that I know I'm ADHD and autistic) But I literally can't do anything to stop it because I can't stop working or anything like that.

Most months I barely make enough for groceries, and I haven't been able to save money in.... Ever. Which sucks because there's so much shit I need to replace or fix. I need a new computer because even after completely factory resetting mine (and accidentally losing about three years worth of files despite thinking they were safe on the cloud) my comp still breaks down every other time I go to draw, and it takes an exceptionally long time to do even basic tasks like open the Internet.

I need to get my car re-registered, get an oil change, probably new tires, and who knows what else. I'm so fucking lucky to have a car at all, but there is kind of no alternative since public transit is barely a thing around where I live. Even if it was, I physically wouldn't be able to walk to the stops.

Almost all my clothes have holes or are from like eight years ago or just don't fit anymore. I have like three pairs of shoes and one is breaking. I don't have money for some of the meds I need and I definitely don't have money for medical aids that could really help.

I think I'm getting extra down on myself about all this because I lost my spot at the tattoo shop I was working at. I completely understand why, they have limited space and need reliable artists who are there all the time.

I can't be.

Most days I can barely wake up. I've got maybe 7- 10 good days out of any month and that's being generous. My health is getting worse and worse and it really doesn't seem like there is much I can do about it, mostly because money is such a problem that any significant improvement (a functioning wheelchair for bad days, some kind of management for chronic fatigue, even just good healthy food) seems entirely impossible.

Getting on disability is technically an option but it takes so long and I don't even know where to begin. And I wouldn't know what to do in the meantime before it kicks in. Plus, who the fuck knows how stable that's going to be, or if it would end up fucking me over if I ever wanted to actually legally marry my partner.

I'm just so scared. About everything. But mostly about being a burden. Being a disappointment. I'm in pain all the time and the only thing I can think about is how much I just want to draw and be able to sit up for a couple hours without feeling like I need to take a nap. I want to do so much, and I can't do almost any of it.

What do you even do with that? How do you cope? "Take it easy, be kind to yourself" Sure, but how do you do that in practice in a world that demands so much and causes so much guilt for failing to give everything you have and more.

I appreciate you so much if you've read this far. It's nice to be able to put it to words even if it's scary and doesn't really fix anything. I'm just scared and frustrated and need to let some of it out in a non-destructive way. And hey, if there are other disabled folks out there dealing with similar shit, I see you and I love you even if I don't know you. Maybe we'll get through this together. Especially if we share any and all tips n tricks.

It's a tough world out there. Be kind where you can.

[aelfgiure]

It shouldn't have been such a surprise to me, really. We had the actual lived experience of the covid pandemic to inform us, less than 20 years ago - but goddamn, people were stupid. Willfully, arrogantly, belligerently stupid. Proud of staying ignorant, blatting away about conspiracy and libtards, right up to the moment they had their guts ripped out by former friends, former family.

When I first saw the news, I tried to stay calm. I did my research - yes, actual research with the Public Health community - then spent a day indulging myself in a hideous drunken panic attack. Then the day to recover, because goddamn, I'm not in my 20s anymore and can't just do that shit like I used to.

Anyways.

My friends were up to speed as fast as I was, and we pooled our resources in a hurry. We had our location picked out beforehand, and that was what saved us. Our location, our resources, our skill sets, all of those would've meant nothing if we hadn't jumped when we did. We're still dealing with guilt, you know. The people that laughed us off, told us we were overreacting to something that was going to get contained and eliminated quickly, they're all dead now. Worse than dead, unless we saw them in a herd and dropped them ourselves, which only added to the grief and pain.

You want to know how long it took for civilization to utterly wreck itself? Three months. THREE MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS. All over the damn globe, that's all it took. Ninety-goddamn-days for the whole thing to collapse. I'm still shaken by the whole thing, how fucking fast it all went downhill. The only plus side to the speed of the collapse? The assorted nations didn't have time to start a fucking nuclear war over this, and for small mercies like that I am honestly, truly grateful. No nuclear war, no attempt at making things worse because we all know how people functioned back then, no time to do anything but scramble to survive and salvage what they could, if they even had time for that.

It's been hard. Not going to lie, there are days when I'm lying in my bed, here in our compound, and I'm tempted to suck-start my .9mil, because it's so, so hard. Yeah, I'm safe, our compound is safe and functional, we have electricity and all the comforts of modern living. My husband is dead, I haven't heard from my daughter in three years, most of the people I knew are gone, except for this crazy ass lot of us, here in this repurposed event center. I could list off the things I miss, the people I miss, but that would take days and only add to my depression, so we'll skip that.

The stupid part of it all? I have hope. Still, even now, I have hope that we can make it through this and come out of this as better people than we were Before. Here in the Redoubt, for example, couple of my friends who couldn't stand each other, they work together now. Not the grudging, barely holding in the snarl, sort of work together, either, but they're allies and brothers in arms, respecting each other. It's not just them, either, it's been across the whole thing, the whole area that we've managed to enclose and protect. If you have a pulse, we can be friends, seems to be the current motto of the human race and yeah, that's something I dreamed about Before. Seeing it in action is beautiful. Maybe we can learn from this and grow the fuck up as a planet, right?

It's going to be a long time before we can clean this mess up enough to start rebuilding, though. One day at a time, one breath. One pulse. I have hope. That's what keeps me waking up, holstering the pistol, and going to whatever work I need to do. Stupid, goddamn, persistent hope.

When the zombie apocalypse came, you were prepared. What you weren’t prepared for was how quickly it ended.

[grazhir]

Sims 4

Still having issues with ** DEBUG **, mostly connected to City Living. I deleted and re-downloaded files concerning food there, so we'll see. Kind of annoying to see four versions of dried sage? Not wasabi and the other spices. Not a deal-breaker (except when it comes to, what, curry, while using the Simple Living lot trait)...?

And of course, BL updated some files, so I refreshed those as well.

I am reminded of why I usually never bother with Batuu. I just redid it and found myself cheating my way through some of the missions, just to max out reputation.

I went the Order side this time, and I feel like it's not as fleshed out? It's been a while since I did the Resistance side of things, so maybe they're both as shallow (culminating mostly in protecting/destroying the communications thing in space?). Like, the only reason to go to Batuu is to get Kylo Ren (and possibly the other dude there, Argo?) to put a baby in my girl (thank you, WW, for allowing me to do so).

Still very annoyed that even with a mod to open up magic options in Batuu, the only thing I can do is Delicioso, I think.

[It is humorous to be able to ask Kylo Ren to help with Simlish, though. I put in Language Barriers, and my girl is a native of Komorebi. She just finally maxed out Simlish, and now it's on to the next language.]

Off to Jungle Adventure, where she's maxed culture, done one complete exploration (managed to fish up multiple treasures, surprisingly). And of course, she can do the Rhumbasim.

[She was initially level 6 in the language when she went, she's now level 7.]

I have also failed to do Strangerville in quite a long time, so I'll probably do that afterward. Because why not, I suppose.

I really wish they'd release more packs like Jungle Adventure. We got three worlds for World Adventures (Granite Falls does NOT count for Sims 4 adventuring), so why can't we get more packs for, I dunno, Norway and Viking shit? Or Japan, or... Transylvania? I don't even know. But something.

Disabled my original CC nails because the set originally on my template sim got them welded to her after I used S4S to put them into the added fingernails category. Was finally able to give her square-end nails like I prefer.

If nothing else, she completed the Science career, which means I have a fully functioning portal to Sixam in the yard in case she wants to learn that language, finish her alien collection, etc.

Oh, and a Simray upgrade that makes sims promiscuous?

Thank goodness the one alien abduction was short-circuited by her shift coming up and me getting out of it (and thereby not late for work) due to choosing to Join her at work.

[ficsforeren]

Hey bbyyyy I’m loving all your hcs they’re so cute. I am curious tho, do you have any for the day the baby is born like the when the reader tells him that she thinks she’s going into labor in the worst possible place lol, or maybe she’s at home and he’s out then he gets a call from her saying her water just broke and he’s like O H MY SHIT WTF. Also where he gets to hold his baby for the first time and the reader is just looking at him like 🥺

OK SORRY IF THAT WAS TOO MUCH BUT IF YOU DONT WANNA WRITE THEM ITS OKAY. LOVE U

Aawww thank you so much, love ❤️❤️❤️

oh man, you better hope you don't go into labor when he's on stage because I think the second rockstar!eren hears about the news, he's just going to panic. and not just panicking in the way that he's like shaking his manager by the shoulder and shouts, "Levi! Can you send someone to her place now?! She's alone, I need her to be safe—please, please make sure she's okay or I'm not gonna finish this fucking show for you, I swear to God, I won't!"

But more like his brain just completely stops working for a moment when he hears a nurse calling him on your behalf, letting him know that you're in labor (he was about to go on stage in ten minutes and he went to his phone to make a quick call so you could wish him good luck but instead, he got a call from the hospital). With his bass still hanging on his back, he mumbles incoherently, his thoughts are running too fast for his mouth to say the words. "I gotta... I need to... She's having a baby..."

He can barely function but he's already making his way to the nearest exit door. Levi catches him on time and asks "What the fuck are you doing?! You're live in five minutes!" and Eren goes into a frenzy, his chest suffocating, his eyes opened wide. Gripping the other man tightly by the shoulders, he says, "I'm having a baby-—LEVI, I'M HAVING A FUCKING BABY—WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO?!?!?!" and it takes like three men to calm him down.

But if he's there with you when you're going into labor, he'll try his best to keep himself composed no matter how anxious and worried and terrified he is inside. He'll hold you by the hand, with another one wrapped around your waist protectively as he helps you stand from the bed. He sees that your water just broke, drenching your dress and he's about to pass out from the sight but he stays strong. "Baby? Baby, you're going to be okay. I'm taking you to the hospital now, all right?" He kisses your temple before he guides you to the front door. "You'll be safe. You're not alone, I'm gonna be with you all the time. You hear me? We'll get through this together."

and when he gets to hold the baby for the first time?

Eren goes still for a good whole minute, just watching the way the baby is sleeping in his arms. She's so little, so fragile and his heart squeezes at the sight. You keep your smile to yourself as you see the way he's biting his lower lip to hold back his tears, afraid that if he cries, he's going to wake the baby. He holds her close, so close to his heart and he grits his teeth to keep himself silent. The sight of it makes you melt inside and you ask him, "What should we name her?"

Eren sniffles, taking a moment to himself to suppress his sobs. He turns to you when he's sure he's calm enough to speak. "I don't know... I really can't think about anything right now..." He chuckles softly, still gazing at the baby with his eyes full of wonder. "I can't believe we made this... Look at her... She's so perfect..."

He then takes a seat on the edge of your hospital bed. Still lying down, you wipe the tears away from his cheek with your thumb. Eren laughs once, a bit embarrassed. He tilts his head to kiss your palm, sighing into your touch.

"How about Irene?"

"Irene..." Eren unconsciously repeats as he stares at the baby. His little girl moves slightly, her tiny lips almost forming a smile. "I think she likes it..." He titters. "Irene..." He bends his head down, lips brushing against the baby's head. "I will love you so much, Irene..."

Your heart warms. "She'll love you so much too."

He turns to you, looking like he's falling in love with you all over again. "Thank you..."

"For what?"

"For making me the happiest man in the world." He leans in to kiss your lips. "I love you."

[kinnsporsche]

we can raise a little family (maybe we'll be alright)

Whilst waiting for Michael at his trailer, Alex witnesses a crash and gets much more than he bargains for.

Alternatively: a post 1x13 fix-it-au.

word count: 2k

read on ao3

If there was one thing Alex hated most in the world, it was waiting. Waiting meant silence and silence meant more time for him to get lost in his head; and that was not a place he wanted to let himself get lost in.

But Michael had promised that they would talk today, and so he was content to wait for him. He’d spent years of his life turning away and running but now… now he was done. Now he would plant his feet firmly in the ground and say no more, no more running, this is who I am, and this is who I want.

At least, he would if the person he wanted showed up.

He’d waited an hour before he gave in to the restlessness. His good leg ached from disuse and he could feel the phantom aches twinging where his other leg used to be. He’d paced around the junkyard for a while, fingertips skimming across beat-up old cars and whatever else he could get a hold of to occupy his mind for a while.

He waited another hour before texting Isobel. She’d insisted he take her number when he first came back into town; she’d told him it was in case she needed help planning the parade she knew he didn’t want. Alex wonders if that’s true now.

The reply didn’t come until the third hour, and by then the weather had shifted to a light drizzle. He’d taken shelter inside Michael’s airstream, alternating between sitting on the edge of the bed and taking in the numerical sequences and equations that were littered across the walls. Right, Michael was still trying to leave the planet. He’d have to talk to him about that.

Noah’s gone, everything’s fine. We’ll be fine.

Alex had wanted to press. He’d wanted to push the subject until Isobel told him where Michael was and why he wasn’t answering his phone and why he was anywhere but here when here is exactly where he’d promised he would be.

Then he remembered everything she’d been through in the last few days and decided against it. He’d dropped the conversation with a quick thanks, take care.

His phone ended up half way across the trailer.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed after that. When he opened his eyes next, there was silence. The rain wasn’t pounding against the outside of the trailer and the pieces of scrap metal that Sanders had hung around the place weren’t banging against each other anymore.

Alex hissed when he tried to move, a twinge of pain shooting up his leg. Sleeping with his prosthetic was never a good idea; he’d definitely be paying for that for the rest of the night. When he finally managed to find his phone – thankfully nestled against what Alex knew was the bloody shirt Michael had peeled off in a hurry the night before – the clock told him he’d been asleep for just over two hours. He let out a litany of curses before he pushed the airstream door open, calling out Michael’s name. His truck wasn’t back though, and there were no fresh tire tracks in the gravel.

He checked his phone. Nothing.

He checked around for a note, hoping maybe he’d just missed him. Nothing.

He checked around for any sign that Michael Guerin hadn’t stood him up. Nothing.

God, he hoped he was wrong. Maybe Michael just needed space. Space from the world after everything that had happened to him the past few days, space from his home and his friends, space from him.

Still, those thoughts did nothing to stop his heart from shattering in his chest.

Alex turned and marched back to his car, shaking hands searching his jacket for the keys that he struggled to get into the lock. He cursed when he dropped them, hands braced against the roof of the car with his head nestled on them. He squeezed his eyes shut tight like he used to do when he was a child and it felt like the world wanted to go to war with him.

He counted to five.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

And picked up his keys.

Something bright caught his attention in the reflection of his car window and for a second; for a bright, beautiful second; he let himself have hope. He let himself think it was Michael’s truck pulling up. That he’d just let the voice in his head run riot again and that Michael was actually here like he said he would be. If he could bottle a moment and live in it forever, he’d choose that one.

Logically, though, he knew the reflection was too high up on his window and the world wasn’t kind enough to let it be headlights.

Alex turned, an explanation for why he’d been hanging out here for the past half a dozen hours on the tip of his tongue but saw nobody. Instinctively, he glanced up.

And that was when he saw it.

The lights were faint; if he didn’t know any better he would assume that it was just someone flying a drone or setting off a dud firework. But this was Roswell, and he knew better. In the distance the light grew brighter and expanded somewhat before disappearing just beyond the horizon.

This time when Alex fumbled with his keys, his hands weren’t shaking.

-

It took Alex longer than he would care to admit to find the crash site – in his defence, he was a codebreaker, not a navigator. He could follow instructions easily enough but eyeballing a crash site in the middle of the desert wasn’t exactly an easy task.

The crash site was small, the debris from whatever it was that crashed hadn’t spread far and as far as he could see, it hadn’t shattered into very many pieces. There was maybe half a dozen glowing iridescent pieces scattered a few feet away from him surrounding something small and circular.

He briefly remembered Michael telling him about their pods, but this one seemed different. For starters, it was tiny; it was small enough that he could probably carry it around without any difficulty. And second, it was smoking. That didn’t exactly seem like something it should be doing.

A high-pitched sound from a few paces away caught his attention and he whipped his head in that direction, heartbeat picking up in his chest when he caught movement underneath some sort of tarp. Alex crossed over to it and gripped one of the corners. He took a breath, counted to five again, and whipped it off.

Shock consumed him, and for a good few seconds he stood motionless as he took in the scene before him.

On the floor in front of him under the New Mexico sky, was a baby. A happy, gurgling baby whose hands were curled into fists and outstretched towards him. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had just crashed from the sky. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had only been covered by the tarp in the middle of the desert.

“Oh my god.” Alex shrugged his leather jacket off once he’d regained control of his motor functions and gently scooped the babbling baby up in his arms. He draped the jacket around her, hand rubbing small circles over her back when she nestled against his shoulder and started cooing quietly. He could already feel a small patch of drool seeping through his shirt and onto his shoulder.

“What happened here, hm?” Alex asked, more to himself than to the bumbling baby in his arms. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been another crash since 1947. So why now? And why the hell send down a baby? Michael and the others were kids when they came out of their pods, so why was this different?

With a sigh, Alex walked over to his car and swung open the passenger door. He made sure the baby was warm in his jacket and moved to set her down gently on the seat. He almost dropped her when she let out the most blood curdling cry he’d ever heard – a cry that stopped as soon as she was leaning back against his shoulder.

“Okay, okay! Note to self, don’t put the baby down.”

Alex glanced around at the debris scattered around and groaned; this was going to be much harder with only one hand free. He stored it all away in the trunk of his car, doing his best to hide the broken iridescent alien pod that he was now hiding in his car. When he was sure he had it all, he closed the trunk with a gentle thud, so he didn’t irritate the baby, and walked around the side of his car.

A twinge of pain shot up his leg when he sat down behind the wheel, and the hand that wasn’t holding onto the baby shot down to grip just above the point where his prosthetic met his leg. He manoeuvred her so that she was sitting on his lap instead of against his shoulder and tried desperately to work out the cramp that was sending spasms of phantom pain down his leg.

The baby let out an irritated gurgle, but Alex had his eyes squeezed shut tight as he tried to remember how to breathe – his physical therapist had taught him some breathing exercises that were supposed to get him through the pain, but the pain seemed to be the only thing he could focus on.

And then it stopped.

Alex’s eyes flew open. It took a few moments to adjust to something other than the darkness that had been blocking out his vision moments ago, but when he finally did he saw a small hand resting on his arm and a pair of wide brown eyes looking up at him. The baby cooed when their gazes met, moving her hand away to reveal a glowing, iridescent handprint on his skin.

“Holy shit-” Alex’s eyes were wide as he stared down at the mark. The baby giggled in response and slapped a small hand over her mouth.

“Language, right. Don’t swear around tiny alien babies. Got it.” He stared at the handprint on his arm for a few more seconds, watching the way the colours shifted as he turned his arm in the light.

“I think we need to have a conversation about leaving handprints on strangers, young lady,” Alex hummed, unable to stop himself from beaming at the gentle gurgle he got in response. The baby nuzzled back up against him and closed her eyes, mouth opening in a small yawn that he should not have found adorable in the slightest.

“No, listen you can’t sleep here I have to drive us home-.”

Alex cut himself off, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. Us? Home?

“I mean I have to drive us back to my place whilst I figure out what to do, and it’s definitely illegal for you to be sleeping in my lap.” The baby didn’t move though, just curled a small hand in his shirt and closed her eyes. He could have sworn the smile on her face held a hint of smugness.

The internal debate on whether or not to move her lasted all of three seconds before he was reminded of the wail she let out earlier and he decided to let her stay.

“If a cop tries to pull us over and I have to outrun them, you’re in big trouble missy.”

Alex started up the car and put it into drive, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing small circles into the babies back over his leather jacket. If he drove ten miles under the speed limit the whole way home, nobody had to know besides him and the precious cargo that he was carrying in his lap.

[scientia-rex]

I'm awake again but I still don't have a tidy summation of any of this. I read Slant by Greg Bear probably over a decade ago and he has this concept called "thymic adjustment" (thymic means of or relating to mood) which basically posits that the pressure of living in increasingly dense urban environments will ultimately require us to have some kind of adjustment to our moods or else we'll lose our shit, like zoo animals, and I'm not sure he's wrong. (Lotta weird stuff in that book! Lotta vaguely racist but like... trying to be progressive yet failing stuff. Not even sure what to make of his obvious allegories for trans-ness. But thymic adjustment, that's gotten to me. Also it's about a pandemic! But it wouldn't work anymore because the governments kinda sorta do something useful about it, and now we know that's not how it works.)

I think part of the reason it stuck with me is that I don't think he specified how this thymic adjustment worked--just that there's a virus in the story that causes it to break down, and there are catastrophic interpersonal effects. Which, IIRC, aren't even the main plot point, which is WILD.

But we do live in an age with thymic adjustments. I both prescribe and take antidepressants. I tried going off mine earlier this year because I don't love the side effects and I hate having to remember a pill every day, and it was definitely a rough journey just tapering down while dealing with the physical and mental side effects of that, but then Roe v Wade got overturned and I was like WELP. I CANNOT BE MENTALLY STABLE. The antidepressants aren't magic, but without them, I do not want to live. So I went back on a different antidepressant and the side effects are more manageable but also it doesn't work as well. And I believe it would absolutely be possible to engineer a virus that could make antidepressants ineffective; I wouldn't target the brain, I'd target the metabolism of these drugs, so they metabolized too rapidly to get effects.

I do not think we need to stop taking antidepressants. I think they serve an incredibly valuable function. I can pretty confidently predict that if I couldn't have antidepressants, I'd be suicidal again. However, I also think that prescription rates tell us something about the world we're living in: we live in a world that pressures our brains towards depression and anxiety. Something I hear a lot, and wrote in a paper once in undergrad for a depressive German professor who loved it, is that perhaps being "sane" is the abnormal response to our world. Maybe we're depressed because the world is depressing. But the thing is, we still have to live in it, and a lot of people don't make that second step, and it's a cop-out to say "you're responding to reality so you don't need antidepressants."

I think we could reduce how many people need antidepressants if we made societal changes that improved our overall experiences of the world. If we had clean drinking water, food, shelter, medical care, and education for everyone. We would be a better world, and a less depressed one, and probably one with a lot less substance use, because substance use disorder is often a "crime" of despair; if you see no future, why wouldn't you reach for what joy you can experience?

But as we modify our world and we are modified by it in turn, we're out here swimming in cortisol and taking antidepressants so our brains can work, dealing with ADHD symptoms that are heightened by short-form media content like TikTok, anxiety that algorithmic recommendations worsen because people click more when they're scared and angry than when they're happy, getting fatter due to endocrinologically active pollutants being put into our atmosphere and water by a tiny handful of extremely wealthy people who own corporations while we are simultaneously bombarded with messaging that suggests our fatness is our fault and a major character flaw, and we're trying to figure out how to live. What our meaning is. What our purpose is.

I'm a tiger stuck in a zoo, pacing the concrete floor, getting stress-induced hair loss, and if antidepressants can help me stop pulling my hair out (they do), I'll take them. And the world isn't false; it's just that we made it profoundly "unnatural," for whatever value of nature can be meaningful for a sentient species capable of so thoroughly altering its own environment.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit I’m having a THOUGHT that is inevitably going to turn into a Whole-Ass Thing about how we think about mental health is wrong ways and use the example of weight as a similar characteristic in the ways in which it is pressured by how we live

Do we have ADHD? Sure. Would we have similar cognitive patterns in a different environment? Probably. But can we slice that out of the specific conditions under which we live that pressure us towards certain elements of it? No. Not even a little bit.

I gotta write an essay about this at some point but it’s going to involve looking up references and I’ll probably try to get it published somewhere as a pop sci thing. The premise is exquisitely simple and many doctors will hate it.