#med school woes

[crswoodferns]

I need you to look me in the eye and tell me how people still think time is real

How else do you explain zoning out for literally half a second in class and suddenly instead of writing the name of the new chapter; sitting in an exam hall with questions on your paper and question marks over your head

[oflgtfol]

i was talking to my therapist last week about how i'm kinda excited but also equally apprehensive about starting grad school this fall because yes, i so so desperately needed a gap year otherwise i think i literally would have killed myself and/or had a breakdown big enough to land me in the hospital, and even beyond that i just needed to figure out a more concrete plan of what i'm going to do with my life in general -- while all of that is true, and i'm glad i took the gap year for it, i'm also apprehensive because i genuinely feel like an entirely different person than i was even at this exact point in time last year, nevermind anything earlier than that. it's only been a single year of me being out of school but my life has changed so dramatically, mostly for the better, and my whole personality has flipped on its head, it's just going to be so fucking weird going back to the same school, the same campus, potentially seeing my old friends around. augh

[songofsaraneth]

if anyones been holding out on me and has somr sort of magic potion of Get Your Work Done i have not had executive function in i think 3 months now and could really use a sip

[whiskeysorrows]

but like. can i actually last 6 yrs of medcine or should i just skip over and do classics even if i hate learning languages

[pastelchad]

I can strongly relate to Sisyphus and his eternal agony because I work in radiology

[queersolarfandompage]

I’m rereading a omegaverse Hilson fic, where House is an omega but uses different drugs and hormones to mask himself for an alpha. And he does this all because of John not wanting a son who presented as an omega, but eventually he keeps up with the regimen because it’s just easier this way. There are two fics with this idea and both are fantastic but I’m thinking about what if House didn’t know.

John has a friend who specializes in 2nd Gender Hormones and identifying how someone presents, and he pays his friend off to make his son an alpha regardless of how he presents. So House is told he’s an Alpha with weak hormones and that he’ll need to take Alpha hormone supplements the rest of his life.

Then when House is older and in med school he looks into it and unsurprisingly there are cases of Alpha’s with weak hormones, and while his supplements are stronger then most studies used, it made sense to him.

Until many years later, after meeting Wilson and everything with his infarction. House decided to stop taking the supplements because it’s not like he’s trying to woe any omega. He’d been on the supplements so long House doubted anything would really change.

And the next time Wilson comes over he’s just bewildered because House had gathered all of his clothes and bedding onto his mattress and was pushing and pulling at the fabrics until he was content with the mess.

“House if this isn’t nesting I don’t know what is. Are you sure-“ House interrupts him by standing from his bed, overwhelmed with pride, unsure of if he was proud of himself as an alpha or proud of the tangled mess of fabrics on his bed.

“Youre the emotional one and you don’t see me calling you an omega. Besides this is too comfortable to be limited only for omegas. Check it out.” Instead of waiting for Wilson to respond, House pushed him so he’d stumble back into the mattress, watching the panic fill Wilson eyes as he fell.

The bed, nest, pile, whatever you'd call it was admittedly pretty comfortable before Wilson caught a whiff of House’s pheromones and found himself surrounded by the smell. He shot off the bed as if it had burned him, overwhelmed by everything House.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Hello salad 🫶 Can I please get some little Taub or Park headcanons please? My underrated kings 🙏

I'll do both!

Taub

Is a middle regressor with an age range of 12 to around 16.

In his ✨💀emo phase💀✨ almost all the time when he's regressed. If he has a say in what he's wearing than it's all black with band T-shirts, skull accessories, too many bracelets, and beanies. He might even get into dark eye makeup if he's feeling fancy that day.

His teenager brain really hates being bald. Almost never without a hat.

Actually becomes really good at using liquid eyeliner when he's regressed, and that skill doesn't transfer to when he's big somehow.

Very "stereotypical 80's movie teen". Kind of has an apathetic "ugh, whatever" attitude about most things and doesn't like being told what to do, lots of demand avoidance.

He is willing to help caregivers out with babysitting though. He pretends he doesn't care but he does and everyone knows it.

"Taub, turn the music on your iPod down, you'll hurt your ears!" - Wilson, yelling

"Yeah whatever, Mom!" - Taub, yelling back (he turns it down secretly)

Stops liking coffee and switches to sugary energy drinks for his caffeine intake instead. He also consumes much more caffeine while regressed if no one stops him.

Most of his emotional woes are being chronically unhappy with his life choices and having a simultaneous quarter and mid-life crisis at the same time.

Touchy about his appearance, as all self-conscious teens.

Likes playing Mario and Legend of Zelda games.

Doesn't have stuffed animals, but he does have a lot of game/band keychains.

Owns a few fidgets like a fidget cube and a Rubik's cube, and has a little collection of magnets to mess with.

Journals (He insists it is not a diary)

-

Park

Little age anywhere from 2-8. She's usually all the way on one end or the other, but occasionally goes in-between.

Didn't know what the heck was going on with her when she first regressed starting in med-school because of the stress, and of course, being a med-student, she jumped to the worst possible conclusion and thought she had a brain tumour or something.

She just nervously sat on that information until her psych class discussed age regression, and then just went "Oh."

Regresses almost entirely involuntarily and due to stress or fear (she also regressed that one time she was on acid, only House really picked up on it). It doesn't happen very often, usually when she's sleep deprived and otherwise upset.

Has a box of the bare-minimum in the way of little gear. A pacifier that's light blue, a colouring book with some crayons, a white bear with a pink bow around its neck, and a little whiteboard list of self-care things so she remembers to actually do them.

Refers to her caregivers very respectfully, using Mr. and Mrs. for everything, or in the case of her coworkers, Doctor [name]. She will not stop calling them that even though they've said she doesn't have to.

Asks people bluntly if they can shut up so she can read her picture books.

The kind of kid where if you sit them down at those restaurants with the paper on the tables for colouring she'll do her best to make a masterpiece and impress the workers.

Will ask you why you look so ugly. She's not being mean, she genuinely wants to know. Absolutely no filter.

Rambles about her current interests and will just keep going if you don't stop her.

Her favourite caregiver is Cuddy, she likes to give her the pictures she draws.

Watches nature documentaries about the ocean and unironically watches the Telletubbies. She loves how creepy they look.

[avellanaslesbianas]

I need to hear more about trans Swain hcs 🫡 (if you also want to talk more about trans Swain muehehheh)

Yippie >v<

I have it very engraved in my interpretation of Swain for him to be transgender.

Narratively is something that further alienates him from those around him, or rather something he uses to alienate himself, because I don't believe Noxian society to be particularly transphobic, I just think Jericho is the type to take aspects of his person that could make him "Other" and built a little psychological shell that none may penetrate.

I usually portray Draven as transgender as well, in contrast to Swain (in a way) also an asshole but one who is sincere on who he is. Swain has associates and Draven has friends checkmate liberals.

(On the more literal side I think Swain went to a professional for his medical transition while Draven got his hormones from the shadiest of places and his top surgery from a friend who barely just graduated med school)

Plenty of his insecurites track down to his mother being the most prominent figure in his formative years, to me Jericho's mother is the type of woman that while full of self-hatred raises a child to be a little clone of herself (and somehow it doesn't work at all but ends up working anyway when it comes to the worst of traits). The crisis in his younger years, which includes the gender related ones, are strongly tied to his relationship with Others and his motherly woes.

I can actually see two alternatives to When he came out

At around 19~20 immediately after executing his parents and joining the military

Or

At 16, his mother didn't give a shit, just found alternatives to diminish him, "if you refuse to be lady you could at least try being a proper gentleman." Yada yada

I view his gender identity as being somewhat outside of the binary, generally because he doesn't feel That human either(may be the autism may be just Who he is), however from age 16 to his late twenties I see him trying to make a performance of being strictly a Man even if it isn't quite what he is, a subconscious attempt to separate himself from the figure of his mother, but also another attempt to not be Other (his subconscious desire for human connection in contrast to he not seeing the point in them). Either way, after turning 30 he likely stopped giving a shit and accepted that he had bigger issues and rolled with it. Not a woman. Not quite a man. Secret Third Thing maybe. I have Shuriman villages to invade and terrorize, who cares.

[andreafmn]

Collision - Chapter 14

Word Count: 3.7K

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

Chapter: 14/?

Warnings: more heartbreak, underage drinking, swearing, steamy scene (no smut)

A/N: I promise this is not turning into a Paul fanfic (although all my twilight stories need to have some connection to him cause he is one of my favorites). But reader is kind of going on a downward spiral for a bit. She'll come out way better at the end but there are three whole months unaccounted for in the books that I need to make up and I love angst, so. This chapter is a mess and so is reader.

My content will always be free, but if you're feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing. I will also be starting a Patreon for exclusive content, early releases, and other goodies if you're interested  🥺👉👈. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 14

There was an intricacy to breakups that (Y/N) had not yet grasped. She wanted to feel everything at once. Rid her memory of all things Cullen for once and all.

But this type of heartbreak wasn’t like the others. It consumed you bit by bit. Chipping away at your very soul until there was nothing left but the shell of a person. It was the kind of heartbreak people wrote songs about, poetry about, books about. The kind that is forever etched into your mind as the one that altered the chemical composition of your being. The one that becomes a checkpoint for your life – there is you before the heartbreak and the you afterward.

(Y/N) didn’t want to feel all of that. She needed her life to go on as if nothing had happened. Maybe this was the push she needed to go to med school. Maybe this was the reason she moved out of state and traveled. Maybe this was the point in her life where all the good things came.

Nothing works out as one wants.

She fell into a vicious cycle.

She would wake. She would go to work. She would come home. She would cry. She would sleep. Then, she would wake again.

And somehow a whole month had gone by.

She would wake. She would work. She would cry. She would sleep. Every. Single. Day.

At some point, (Y/N) was made aware of Bella Swan’s similar status. The poor girl had suffered the same fate she had. It made her think they had been cursed. If there were vampires and werewolves, witches and curses didn’t seem like such a fantastical idea anymore.

Maybe that’s what the two Cullen men had done to them. Cursed them with their love. Their bittersweet love.

One thing kept playing in (Y/N)’s head. Words Carlisle had used to make sure the wound never closed. 'Just like your father.’ That sentence had been carved into her skin, sending shivers down her spine each time she remembered it. He was right. She had been resolute in the idea of leaving everyone she loved behind for him. For a simple man that cared more about his reputation than her heart.

It made her think too much of Joshua Uley. She had been very young when he left. With the years the image of him started fading from her memory. First, she couldn’t remember his voice. Then, his face blurred. Finally, she could not even remember how it felt to be hugged by him.

She knew Sam resembled him the most in appearance. Their mother would often cry about how much he reminded her of him. But she always said (Y/N) had his eyes and his soul.

“If only you both could have met him when we fell in love,” Allison would cry to them – inebriation aiding to her woes. “My little (Y/N), your heart is just like his was. But I know you are stronger.”

The girl had never understood what her mother had meant. Until now. She felt she was all the bad parts of her father. She was going to abandon her family in a selfish search for a life that made sense to her. No longer could she recall the way her father would read her to sleep; how he would kiss her wounds after getting them clean and wrapped; how he celebrated each time she came home with an outstanding grade. Now all she could recall were the bad things he did. The way he acted when he would drink; how he would fight with her mother when he thought the kids weren’t listening; how he left his family without a second thought.

Glimpses of her childhood flooded her mind. Her brain nitpicking at the specific bad moments she felt identified with.

That particular Saturday one memory stood out. She remembered every time her father would get angry, specifically the thing he would do right after. In the entrance hallway closet, there was a floorboard that was loose. Inside, Joshua would store a collection of liquor bottles hidden from the eyes of his family. (Y/N) had once investigated the hiding place. At her young age, she had no idea what the liquids were, but she knew it made her father act out of the ordinary and be led by his emotions.

Maybe that was what she needed at the moment, she thought. There could not be any other reason for her brain to concoct that memory now - (Y/N) had not spared a thought for her father in over a decade. Maybe what she needed was the liquid that made everyone speak their mind, even if unwillingly. The bitter nectar that could make her father shift from anger to sadness, to disappointment in a matter of minutes. That’s what she needed. To feel everything at once and purge it all out of her system. Surely that was the way she would get over losing a life with Carlisle Cullen.

She was by herself that day. Her mother had pulled a double shift at work and would not be back until the early hours of the morning. So, she headed to the closet in hopes that she had been the only one to discover the secret hideout.

The door of the closet creaked as she swung it open, the sound hurting her ears. If someone else had been in the house, they would have most definitely heard it. The small room was unassuming. Good enough to store the thick jackets they would need for winter as well as some lighter ones for the rest of the year. Boxes were piled at the top on a shelf, and shoes and bags were thrown about on the floor.

Her eyes quickly were transfixed on the wooden board from the corner that slightly stuck out. To anyone else, it would simply look like it needed to be pushed down, but (Y/N) knew the reason it never was.

She had taken a flathead screwdriver and used that to jam it into the space between the floorboard and the emptiness underneath, prying the old plank open. And just like she had remembered, half a dozen bottles of an assortment of liquor bottles were strung on the floor. Most of them were halfway done, the others only a quarter of liquid was left in them.  

(Y/N) lifted one that she recognized. The label reading vodka reminded her of the one and only time she had had alcohol in her system. A stupid weekend afternoon in her school where her roommate had decided to sneak in a bottle after Christmas break. She had brought it back from her home and had told everyone that her parents had allowed her to drink whilst she was home.

It had been reckless and stupid, and she had ended up puking all night, promising she would never drink again.

But she also remembered how it was the first time that she truly felt homesick. Well, she had always felt a bit homesick, but that was the first time she outwardly expressed it. For her – at that time, at least – emotions were too much of a distraction. They kept her from striving forward, doing whatever she had to do to earn the best education possible. And so, she repressed everything. Until she downed half the bottle of vodka her roommate had brought back.

So, she drank.

And she would continue to drink for the next two weeks during the times she was by herself. The next weekend, she paid a guy twenty bucks to get her enough bottles of vodka from the store to get her through the month. It was stupid and reckless, but that was exactly how she felt.

She hid the bottles under the same floorboard her father would. Sneaking around to take a small swig before she would go to bed; hiding a drink after she came home from work; spending the days she was alone drinking and crying.

The next Saturday after the first time she found the bottles was no different. (Y/N) took hold of two bottles, placing the wooden floorboard down just as she had found it. She did not want her mother to find anything awry, not even herself.

So, at two in the afternoon she started to drink.

The first swig of the bottle always went down roughly. It burned all the way from her throat until it hit her empty stomach. She knew the feeling would be almost instantaneous. Without any food in her system and no water intake, her head would be swaying after the third sip from the bottle.

She didn’t mind the burn. She welcomed the almost unbearable sting the alcohol left. It wasn’t as strong as she had remembered the drink to be, but it was good enough for its purpose. She would feel it all. She would fill the vast nothingness she felt inside. She would drink until she forgot.

Four hours and two bottles completely drained later, (Y/N) lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling as it spun around her. Tears fell from her eyes, but she didn’t necessarily feel like crying. They simply fell. She also felt tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. She was tired of feeling dread. She was tired of grieving. She was tired of yearning for something that would never be hers.

“Did you know you could actually die from heartbreak?” (Y/N) spoke to no one in particular. She was by herself. Completely alone. “It’s true. It’s called broken heart syndrome. It’s when a stressful event makes the body release a massive surge of adrenaline and noradrenaline causing the small arteries that supply blood to the heart to narrow, decreasing blood flow to the heart. It’s rare that someone would die from this. But it doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” she sighed for a pause and continued. “I never understood this until now. I questioned how anyone could care so much about something – someone – that their own body knows when that person hurts them. The heart becomes weaker when that person decides to trample all over it. Can you imagine?  What would people say?!”

And then she laughed. She laughed until her stomach hurt. Because how stupid did she feel? Promising her future to someone so unpredictable, so volatile. Someone she had no idea existed until a few months before.

Then, she cried. Because she felt stupid. For considering abandoning her mother, and her brother. For considering spending eternity with someone that did not deserve it. Someone that had been so careless with her heart – with her love.

Her cries were so loud she did not hear the sound of the front door as it opened.

Paul had been walking down the street after coming back to Sam’s house after a useless patrol. The Cullens were gone, he had thought, what was the need to keep on the lookout? He was bored. Sure, he detested the bloodsuckers, but he liked the thrill of threatening them when they walked too close to the treaty line, the adrenaline that rushed through him as he rushed after one of them when he smelt them from afar, the dreaming that one day one of them would step out of line and he could sink his teeth into one of them. Now, it was no fun.

As he walked, he kicked a pebble down the street. There was only one person he wanted to spend time with, but she was slightly preoccupied with getting over one of the cold ones. To him it was easy. He was a man that could never give her the life she deserved. Someone who would simply bring her into a life of hiding, a life she wasn’t made for.

In Paul’s mind, (Y/N) was made for grandeur. She was meant to save people, to make a name for herself in the medical community. She was meant to make it out of their little town and move on to bigger, greater things.

What Carlisle had done was be a coward in Paul’s eyes. The man had it all. Money, power, a united family, and the best woman out there. He literally had it all. And threw it all away at the first sign of trouble. Paul knew his money wouldn’t suffer; he would always have his standing between his people; his family would follow him wherever he went. But (Y/N). (Y/N) was collateral damage to him. He had taken what he wanted and thrown her aside. If he hated the Cullens, this stuck the nail in the coffin.

It had been a month since he had spoken to her. A month and a half since he had seen her completely break down in front of him over a man that was not worth it. So many days had been robbed from them, their friendship. Days he could have used to rekindle their relationship, to transform it. So much time that had been stolen by Carlisle Cullen and his cowardly actions.

“If she’d give me a chance, I would make sure she knew how lucky I was to have her by my side,” Paul had said one night at the beach to Jared, babbling on as he normally did when speaking of (Y/N). “That bloodsucker has no idea what he’s let go of. Either way, she deserves so much better.”

“And that’s you?” Jared asked between laughs. “I don’t think I need to remind you, but she did choose him at some point in time. Even after your lousy attempt at swaying her to you.”

“I could be everything she didn’t know she needed.”

Paul grinned at the memory, the same way he had grinned that night because he truly believed his words.

 In his reminiscence, Paul heard sobs. A heart-wrenching sound that he had grown to know. He’d heard it but a month ago, and he would hear it every night he walked by her window. It was a sound he wished he could erase from his memory and take from her repertoire.

Many times, he’d listened to her cry until she would fall asleep, never getting closer under direct orders from Sam. This was her heartbreak to navigate, Sam had told her. There is not much they could do about it.

But this time was different. Her cries were mixed with a sharp smell, one he could not tie to (Y/N), but one he remembered well from his times in high school. A dangerous weapon when in a state of sadness.

Paul walked up the creaky stairs of the porch, pressing his ear to the front door to confirm the cries that emanated from the other side. His hand checked the doorknob to find it unlocked, and without much preamble, he walked in.

(Y/N) was on the floor in the middle of the dark living room, clutching her chest and crying. Empty bottles of vodka surrounded the girl. The smell hit the wolf right away, burning his nostrils. It was a devastatingly heartbreaking scene.

“Why?” (Y/N) cried, not yet noticing Paul’s presence. “I f-fucking loved you.”

“(Y/N)?” Paul called out startling the inebriated girl. She sat up quickly and clutched her head as she clearly felt the wooziness from the alcohol. “What’re you doing?”

“W-why ‘r you here?” she slurred. “W-why?”

“I could hear and smell you from outside, (Y/N).” He was worried. Not only was he hurt to see his friend like that, but it surprised him to the lengths she was going to forget that Cullen man. It was reckless. “What’s going on,

“I’m a fucking mess, Paul.” She looked defeated. Completely and utterly defeated. “I-I wanna forget him. I wanna rip every piece of my skin he touched. I wanna incinerate every single memory I have of him. I wanna rid my body and my soul of anything I put his name on. I wanna fucking detest him.”

“This isn’t the way to do it, (Y/N). It’s barely six in the afternoon and you are drunk out of your mind. How long have you been like this?”

“Why do you care? I can do whatever I want,” she continued to slur her words. “I’m going to feel everything I need to feel and forget him. Forget he ever existed. Forget anything that he made me feel.”

(Y/N) crashed onto Paul’s chest as she continued to cry. Her emotions quickly flipped between anger and sorrow, unable to control the fast switch. She felt completely out of control, unable to moderate how her feelings came out. But it was better than feeling a suffocating nothing.

Just like the first night, she cried on Paul as he rubbed comforting circles on her back to calm her down.

“Tell me what I can do,” he whispered into her ear. “What can I do to help you through this, (Y/N)? I can’t stand to see you like this.”

She didn’t know how to answer. There wasn’t much she was sure of those days. Still, she felt an overwhelming feeling creep into her. As she lifted her head and stared into Paul’s eyes, she couldn’t help but lean forward, crashing her lips onto his.

It was warm, she thought. Unbearably warm. The kiss was sloppy and unskilled, messy, and hungry. Maybe it wasn’t what she wanted but it was what she felt she needed at that moment. Because she needed to forget. And with just enough distractions she could maybe do just that. Forget.

(Y/N) moved her body until she was on top of Paul, straddling his lap. Her hands grasped at the short hair on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her. It made her whole body ignite with a fire she had not felt in a while. She craved physical touch, intimacy, and sexual desire. And Paul could give her that. She wanted to forget how comforting the cold had become to her. She wanted to be warm – burning hot. (Y/N) wanted the complete opposite of who and what Carlisle was.

She wanted more.

Her hands dropped to the hem of Paul’s white wifebeater, pulling it off his torso, then landing on his toned chest. She ran them through his muscles, her fingers tracing the Quileute tattoo that adorned his arm. She felt intoxicated by something stronger than the alcohol running through her body. Something that edged the bad decisions on, tempting her to let her intrusive thoughts win.

Feeling unsatisfied with how slow everything was going, (Y/N) dove her hands down as she kissed Paul’s jaw and neck, fumbling for the button on his pants. That was until Paul took hold of her shaking hands.

“What’re we doing here, (Y/N)?” He was breathing hard, unable to stabilize his breath properly. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m sober enough to make my own decisions,” she retorted. “Plus, they say to get over someone you should get under someone else. So, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“So I’m just your rebound.”

“Gods, Paul! When did you get so sentimental?” (Y/N) said exasperated. Getting up, she threw his shirt at his chest trying in any way to let out her frustration. “I thought this was something you wanted.”

“Not like this,” he said. His response was unnaturally soft. Paul could see how much (Y/N) was hurting, and as much as he wanted nothing more than to be this close to her in any way possible, he could not do it this way. “(Y/N), you’re drunk and emotional. I can’t do this when I know you’re not in your right headspace.”

“Why do you care where my head is? It’s just sex.”

“If tomorrow you feel the same way, then we can talk. But I simply can’t,” he responded. “I care too much about you to let you do something you might regret when you’re in this state. Let’s get you to bed, (Y/N). What you need is to sleep.”

“What if I went somewhere else to get what I want?” It was clear that she wanted to hurt him, push him to the edge until eventually, he broke. Her subconscious mind told her it was wrong. To manipulate his feelings this way was the worse thing she could do to someone she cared about so much. But her alcohol-subdued mind spat whatever it could to get what it wanted. “Maybe I’ll call up Jared. Maybe even Jake might jump at the request. I honestly could not care less.”

His eyes softened at her as she spewed those empty threats. Paul knew where they were coming from a place of pain and need. Even if they did hurt him, he understood that this (Y/N) was not the one he loved. She was a mask put on to hide her true feelings.

“Look, (Y/N). I would bring down the fucking moon for you if you asked,” he whispered as he closed the distance between them. His hands landed softly on both sides of her face, shifting her lowered gaze to meet his. “If you want to go sleep with the first guy you see, that’s your prerogative. But I can’t let you do that when your decisions are being made when you are absolutely fucked up. As your best friend, I won’t allow it.”

(Y/N) stared into Paul’s eyes, defeat slowly taking over. He was right. Completely right.

Then, the waterworks came once more.

“I just want it to stop,” she cried. “I want to get over him. I want to go on as if nothing ever happened because it hurts. It hurts so fucking much.”

“I know,” he said. “And it will keep hurting for some time, but this is not the way to do it.”

“It’s a way,” she whispered. “I’m tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed and we can try and talk tomorrow. How about that?”

Finally giving up, (Y/N) allowed Paul to guide her to her room. She snuggled herself into bed as Paul set a glass of water and two aspirins on the bedside table. It was a nurturing side to Paul she had not seen before, or simply had not noticed. He cared for her just like she had cared for him when they were little.

“Make sure you drink this as soon as you wake up.” She nodded in response. Too tired to talk anymore. “And, (Y/N). Don’t make any bad decisions while I’m not around.”

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[actualbird]

Hi Zak! Hope you're well! (^^♪ Uh, trigger warning for periods I guess, so ignore me if you want.

Since Luke is... Luke, he's probably pretty used to blood stains and episodes of pain, so I kinda think he'd be so nice to have as a partner if they're on their period. Like, all the NXX boys would be really nice and sympathetic, but Luke just has that experience, you know?

Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but whenever I'm bent over my toilet bowl trying not to throw up, I like to imagine someone helping me take care of the stains that two pads couldn't hold off for the 4 hours of sleep I manage to get before my pain medication wears off. Luke is my happy place when I'm in pain (cuz I feed off of sympathy).

Anyway, just wanted the opinion of a certified Luke expert. Have a nice day! (*>_<*)ﾉ

hi hi!!! and aaAAAWWW THIS IS SUCH A SWEET ASK!!! i completely agree!!!

luke really would be the least squeamish both about blood and about physical illness woes. his own pain episodes and meds side effects have given him pain and nausea, and while a cis luke would be sure that it's Different With Periods, he'd also be very understanding.

also, luke Grew Up With A Girl Through Teenhood. i like to think that back when he and mc were growing up, he was definitely embarassed at first when he found out about periods and stuff, as boys do, but eventually he got used to it and would be the one mc would call if ever she needs an emergency pad because he'd keep a few in his school bag Just In Case. hes got her BACK

the habit carried over even into their adulthood so not only would luke pearce buy you pads and know the right ones to buy, he probably already has a few ready for you in one of his endless pockets. when youre throwing up, hes there waiting to ask if you need company or if you'd want him to go fetch you some pain meds or a hot compress. when youre cranky from all the Experience And Whatnot, he just comfortably hangs out with you anyway because he knows it Sucks but he still wants to be there for you

luke pearce period pro is canon to me

thanks for the ask, hope you have a nice day too :D

[crswoodferns]

Fuck BDC. I'm gonna write my own anatomy textbook and call it "Better than BDC"

[kohakhearts]

folks you're not going to believe what's happening tomorrow

its friday??? AGAIN????????

[starlightandetherealshadows]

How would the RO’s and V be acting with only 2 hours sleep?

I can tell you right now, hon, everybody attitude boutta be STANK!

Delphine: she doesn’t need the beauty sleep, but our queen gets very cranky when she gets less then 5 hours of sleep. when she’s exhausted, her southern accent gets stronger and her banter has about more bite to it. She hates sleeping in places other than a bed.

Zero: Zero has insomnia, so running on very little sleep is pretty normal for him. some nights he doesn’t sleep at all, others have his nightmares keep him from getting a good night’s sleep. he’s always exhausted, but the worse his exhaustion, the more clingy he gets.

Ayana: pulled all nighters for med school and was working 80 hours a week during her residency, so Ayana can function on very little sleep, she just needs her coffee or her patient will be uh NEGATIVE. Did I ever mention she drinks black coffee?

Cecelia/Chase: they sleep like a baby, so 2 hours would have them laying on the couch all dramatic and “woe is me”. C is more withdrawn when tired, fighting to keep their eyes open and not cracking as many jokes. They can fall asleep ANYWHERE though, be it a couch a floor or a chair. they aren’t picky!

Xa’eks/Xa’veed: being in the military, they’re used to working long hours and sleeping little, especially because their sleep needs differ from a human’s. They need more sleep than humans do, so on earth they’re gonna be tired with less than 8 hours. 2 hours…I think MC could take them on a fight on 2 hours of sleep.

Veronica/Vincent: they’re chillin. Even if V is exhausted, they don’t show it. Around their eyes is always smudged with dark eyeliner, so you can’t tell if “messy but effortlessly sexy” look is actually effortless or if they slept in their makeup. They’re the one that’s somehow chipper at 5am, if only because they know everyone else is in a foul mood and they can annoy their friends.

[mamawasatesttube]

okay i’m working on med school apps and im gonna have to talk about my thesis but now i cannot think about it without the intense rage of a thousand burning suns bc cryotome so. feel free to ignore this ask but i figured you’d get it and anyone else who would has heard this story before. but basically last year this girl who was hired by the lab for her “expertise with the cryotome” was supposed to teach me to use it because i needed to slice the Very Important Mouse Brains for staining for my thesis research. and it’s really really important that we do it correctly so there’s no trial and error to finding the angle etc. because the end process of the imaging is basically reconstructing the whole brain to create an activation map and A Lot of resources were used to do this experiment and all that jazz. but basically i was on a really tight timeline and she just kept fucking up to the point where i, a person who had NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE, could tell she was missing steps. and basically she destroyed all of the brains i was supposed to use AND she was so callous about it while we were trying to talk to our PI about potential solutions and she literally said “i could come in to help you (FIX THIS PROBLEM I CREATED) … but i don’t want to” and anyway i don’t work there anymore but i heard this summer that she literally neglected to take care of the new mouse colony for a new wave of experiments and instead of firing her they just moved her to admin in human research??? im not one to pray on the downfall of others but i need her to get fired so bad. she didn’t care about her job even one bit and it makes me So Insane. she also got so mad when i wouldn’t try her cocktail at the christmas party (i don’t drink alcohol) and it was so uncomfy. in front of our BOSS. anyway there was more cryostat drama with a phd candidate later too but im calm now so here’s my roommate and her cat if you read this far — sorry about that

YOU ARE SO FUCKING REAL holy shit i would be so mad!!!!! what the hell!!!!! im kind of speechless i cant believe no one fired her after she destroyed the first one. oh my GOD. woe and frostbitten fingers upon her!!!!!!!! jesus. my cryotome woes are entirely related to the fact that i had so many mouse kidneys to slice that i spent like... weeks doing Nothing but using the cryotome every time i came in to work. which was agonizing but nowhere near this level of infuriating oh my god.... you are so strong for not committing a murder.

also that pic is sooo cute. he stand like a people!!!! kity!!!!

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

A 2021 study of military youth has revealed that not only were minors with severe mental illness allowed to embark upon experimental medical sex changes, but also that prescriptions for anti-psychotic drugs actually increased after hormonal interventions were initiated, reports Fox News.

The study, published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine, examined the Department of Defense (DoD) medical records of 3,754 trans-identified adolescents and 6,603 siblings who did not identify as transgender. The findings reveal no improvement in mental health after commencing hormone interventions and an increase in prescriptions for psychotropic medication.

“Among 963 [transgender/gender diverse] youth using gender-affirming pharmaceuticals, mental healthcare did not significantly change and psychotropic medications increased following gender-affirming pharmaceutical initiation; older age was associated with decreased care and prescriptions,” reads the study.

The trans-identified cohort were more likely to have a mental health diagnosis, use more mental healthcare services, and be prescribed more psychotropic medications compared to the sibling cohort.

“The most pronounced increases in mental healthcare were for adjustment, anxiety, mood, personality, psychotic disorders, and suicidal ideation/attempted suicide,” the study noted. “The most pronounced increased in psychotropic medication were in SNRIs, sleep medications, anti-psychotics and lithium.”

Many proponents of adolescent sex changes argue that the high rates of coexisting mental health issues observed in youth who identify as transgender are the result of the pain of being trapped in the wrong body. The solution, they believe, is to alter the body, then all preexisting mental health issues will disappear.

An alternative theory is that when distressed youth with serious mental health issues come across the concept of gender online or at school, they latch onto the idea that they could be transgender and see a medical sex change as the answer to all their woes.

The stories of detransitioners suggests that for at least some, hormonally and surgically altering the bodies of people with serious mental illnesses is not the magical fix proponents of “gender-affirming care” make it out to be.

[...]

“The notion that 7-year-old children are capable of such decisions is beyond laughable,” [Dr. Stanley Goldfarb, of Do No Harm,] told Fox News at the time. "The existence of a large, perhaps as much as 25 percent cohort of 'detransitioners,' suggests the folly of assuming the soundness of childhood decisions.”

“Just because a child states that they understand the implications of gender transitioning does not mean that they can conceive of their future regret,” he added. “These physicians should examine the literature and face the reality that the reason that Finland, Norway, Denmark, and the UK have opted to severely restrict the use of puberty blockers and sex-characteristic altering hormones is that we have little if any evidence that we are not hurting more children that we are helping.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

What’s your favourite place to be kissed?

What’s your dirtiest sexual fantasy?

What was your most embarrassing sexual experience?

Where on your body is your favourite place to be touched?

Are you rough or romantic during sex?

To Add a Little Spice || Accepting

I. The night finds them enjoying ~as much as being out in public is joyful, turns out her mysterious Government Man is as much of a homebody as she tends to be~ a quiet pair of cocktails in a dimly lit little restaurant that anyone with half a brain could tell was some sort of lush, shadowy bit of romance. Quiet conversation is had and from her adoring vantage, the question doesn't come as a surprise. If anything, she finds it even more endearing that he ask rather than presume. Her Mr. Mallory is, in fact, a gentle man. One hand rises slowly from the stem of her glass. Her nails are near the same shade of deep red as the wine she'd been sipping, the same shade as the matte stain on her lips. She finds her way to the bare expanse of her neck and dreamily strokes the length so very close to her jugular. "Heah," she says in a half tone above her whisper. "I should like to t'ink. Not only can ya feel a heart's beat like sea's tide, but dere's an expression of trust, of vulnerability dere I don' t'ink you can find anywhere else." A glimpse of her tongue can be seen as she moistens her lips. "Can I guess yours would be...a fleetin' brush of lips at a train-platform, rain all da background music dat can be heard before you're rushin' off in uniform?" ~*~ II. "...came home at night her long, thin arms would emerge from beneath the covers and twine around his neck; after making him sit down on the edge of the bed, she would begin to tell him of her woes: he was neglecting her, he was in love with another woman! She should have listened when people warned her she'd be unhappy! And then she would end by asking him for some kind of tonic to make her feel better, and a little more love..." Beth read aloud in her most polished Haole tongue. The flow meandered like a winter-clad river, slow and somewhat sluggish, especially over certain sounds. When Gareth brushed the hair back from her face and offered her a sweet sort of smileless expression, she placed the marking ribbon between the pages and set it down. When he asked her what she might dream about, something like this or something more explicit, she was first a little bemused. He doesn't seem quite the type. "I don' know if I could say it's dirty...but first, I'd love t'...be so in love I could actually...be wi' someone like dat. An' of course mebbe..feelin' ya movin' deep inside me, a hand 'round my t'roat...an ya whisper in my ear...."

She doesn't actually say what the whisper might be as she suffuses in colour to rival a sunset and shakes her head, a giggle full of nervous butterflies. ~*~ III. "So in my firs' year of residency," she says quietly, not daring looking him in the eye, "I was presentin' a paper about endoscopic neurosurgical techniques dat I'd worked so hard on wi' my mentor. He'd been my instructor in med school, and we'd matched for residency. We were almos' telepat'ically linked we work so well togeddah. I've kept a journal since I was young, an'...an I may have written down a fantasy I had about him. In detail." She loses a little complexion, becoming paler before him, and she hangs her head as if she's reliving the moment. "One of da oddah brand new doctahs t'ought it was funny to make slides of dat journal entry ~an' t' dis day, I dunno who, an' I dunno how dey found it~ an' spliced it into my presentation. I couldn't understan' da laughter, the sudden roar of whispers, pointin' an' pictures snapping...Less dan an hour later, I'd submitted my lettah of resignation, an' had paid da bursar da fee for terminating my contract. Hardest part was to walk into his office...my mentor...an' tell him goodbye." That joke ended her career before it began, ended one of the greatest friendships in her life. She's never quite recovered. Oh, sure, she finally finished residency but it wasn't what she expected. "So embarrassing? Yeah, you could say dat. An' I t'ink, if you wouldn't mind, I'd raddah talk about anyt'ing else." ~*~ IV. One hand at her hip. The knuckles of the other trail along the curvature of her collarbones. So close that the heat from his body can be felt in her face down to her toes. Gareth on her doorstep was not expected but his company is appreciated. She had wanted to ask what was wrong but before she could, he's all full-steam ahead, shepherding her small frame back into her foyer. Words didn't seem to matter so much. Not in the wake of that kiss. Good senses return enough to close her door. In London she doesn't have the same household staff that she does at the castle. Between kisses ~sharp teeth on both sides, soft moans and harsher raspy breaths~ a question it takes her minutes to answer. "Anywheah," she whispers against his mouth. "Try an' find out wi' me." ~*~ V. The way her tongue trails across the points of his teeth, her nails graze his neck as they intend to scale him to become lost in his hair, it would be easy to imagine her a wild sea storm battering his shore. But that bone-melting little moan she sighs into that kiss, the way her lashes flutter when they finally come up for air, soft skin and sweet scent that rises from it, might go the other way. Beth is a woman of contradictions. Nimble, she uses the tight space between them to reach up and take hold of his tie. As surely as she can tie-off a stitch, she's easing the knot from the patterned silk.