#you know like when you have an asthma attack and then you are sensitized for a while until you like heal up?

[tj-crochets]

Two rows left!!! Time for a lunch break

Almost 2/3s of the way done!

[cobaltperun]

Lost (23) - Somewhere Only We Know

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.4k

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-This could be the end of everything, so, why don't we go somewhere only we know?-

She was cold. That was the first thing that came to Tara’s mind as she regained consciousness. She was cold and lying on her side on hard concrete. She immediately tried to bring her hands down to her stomach, worried for your child, but she couldn’t move her arms. Only then did she realize her arms were tied behind her back, uncomfortably tight and painful, and to make things even worse, her legs were tied-up as well. The only time she felt this helpless was when Amber first attacked her, that night she thought she would die in her own home. But now her death would also mean the death of your child and that frightened her more than anything.

Tara groaned, the pain in her arms, the throbbing in her head, none of it compared to the despair she felt. Danny was dead, she was all alone, captured, and had no idea if this would affect your child. “Y/N, please, I don’t think I can take this,” she couldn’t even cry anymore, her breathing was rapid, on the verge of an asthma attack and all she could focus on was the thought of you, telling her everything would be fine. Telling her she and your child would be fine, that you’d be fine. It was that thought that made her for a moment regain control of her breathing, but then that same thought broke her. Because she couldn’t know if everything would be fine, she couldn’t know if you were fine, she didn’t even know if you were alive and the dread consumed her, shattering the will she had left as the few tears fell onto the cold concrete. She couldn’t do this without you.

She couldn’t, but she had to, for your child.

The sound of heavy doors opening and the Ghostface with a bird painted on the mask made fear sink deeper into her bones. The Ghostface moved so quietly, with steps so measured and posture ready for any surprise attack as Tara tried to back away, she tried, but she couldn’t. The ropes prevented her movement, but she managed to somehow roll on her stomach, desperate to protect the child as much as she could. The barely audible footsteps sent her into panic, her breathing getting more and more uneven, rapid, she was breathing, but it felt like she wasn’t getting any oxygen in whatsoever as a coughing fit took her over.

Hands grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her onto her back. “No! Please, stop!” she cried out through tears, her face contorting into a grimace of pain and fear as she watched the white mask. “Y/N!” she cried out, if nothing else, your name would be the last word that would come from her mouth. She tried to fight back, tried to kick, to push the Ghostface away, but the monster’s grip was firm, and nothing she could do, in her position was having any effect on the person above her.

“You’re pregnant?” the monster wasn’t using a voice changer, and Tara heard a woman’s voice, one she never heard with an accent she didn’t have enough clarity of mind to place. Tara watched as the woman pulled away from her and grabbed the side of her head as she began pacing the room. “Damn it, what are they thinking?” she heard the frustration in the woman’s voice, and, she dared to think, anger as well.

Tara’s eyes widened when the woman knelt beside her and grabbed a knife, but instead of feeling it pierce her body she felt the ropes around her arms getting loose, and with that feeling she became aware of the knife cutting through the ropes. “Don’t struggle, you need to drink first,” the woman warned her and placed a bottle of water next to Tara. “It’s not poison, it wasn’t even opened before,” she kept talking, even as Tara kept struggling with her asthma. “Damn it, woman, I can’t help you with asthma, get it under control.”

As if it worked like that. As if she could just be told to breathe properly.

“Y/N is alive,” that made her coughing subside, though she still found it hard to breathe. The relief was, however, almost instant, because it was the first time in over three weeks that she heard anything about you, and it calmed her down. Just the fact that you were alive was enough. You were alive.

You were alive.

And if you were alive, Tara would never be alone.

“That’s the way. Breathe. Don’t try to escape though. You’ll just end up dead if you try anything. Sit here and wait for your wife,” Ghostface told her as Tara moved her arms, wincing at the stiffness.

Did this Ghostface actually help her? “Please let me go, please, or at least take me to Y/N,” she tried to beg, hoping the woman would have at least a bit more humanity in her left.

Ghostface stood up and took a few steps back. “Sorry, I can’t, I have my reasons,” the response was cold, bare minimum. “If you don’t resist, maybe you can make it out of here alive. Just don’t cause troubles, for the sake of your child,” it was the cold truth. She had no idea how many Ghostfaces there were this time, and she certainly had no way of escaping right now. She had no idea where she was, had no idea where to go, or how far from help she was and no one knew where she was so the hopes of being rescued were nonexistent.

But you were alive. And that gave her a bit of hope she desperately needed as she wrapped her arms around her stomach and cried silently.

“I’m sure she’ll get you out of here,” the woman said a bit softer in an attempt to provide Tara with some comfort, and it helped, it helped more than the woman could ever imagine.

Tara knew it was the truth, as long as she was alive and as long as you were alive you’d find her, sooner or later.

~X~

Gale wanted to smack her head when she finally pieced it all together. Her age must have been getting to her if she didn’t notice this sooner. Granted, she was surrounded by files and had about a dozen of tabs open on her laptop, so the urgency may have affected her performance as well.

“I found her, I know where Tara is,” she said, stopping Sidney’s reading into the files Kirby gave them.

Sidney dropped what she was reading and came to her, sitting down on the sofa next to Gale. Honestly, it felt good not to be able to work with Sidney and not be at each other’s throats. “What did you find?” Sidney asked, she looked anxious, desperate to find these fuckers as quickly as she possibly could, and given they tried to kill her family Gale couldn’t say she blamed the woman. She just got her happy ending, she managed to avoid being a target when Richie’s family came for revenge, and a part of her probably thought she was finally off the hook, that Ghostface finally lost interest in her, but she was once again proven wrong. That it wasn’t as simple as Bailey not getting the chance to go after her since he was stopped by Sam, Tara and you.

“The warehouse clued me in. It belonged to an old shipping company that existed back in the nineties and had to declare bankruptcy about twenty-five years ago. Now, the building they owned in the harbor isn’t the correct location, according to Kirby’s information, but, I was digging around through the records and I found this,” she pulled up an old document, showcasing the purchase of a large industrial complex by the company. The owner was trying to expand his business, not realizing the money he spent would sink the relatively young company he already had. By the end of it all the cost was too high, and they couldn’t get the production going since the machines were too old. And they couldn’t sell the industrial complex because of some local regulations, insignificant details at the moment. “The industrial complex was abandoned, and seeing as it is tied to an already dead man, no one would ask questions if, say, a hostage was being kept there.”

Sidney didn’t look too convinced, and Gale could admit that it was a bit of a stretch, but her instinct was telling her she was right. “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s better than nothing, and it’s certainly worth a shot,” Gale replied, gathering her evidence.

Sidney nodded and helped her put the papers together. “Come on, let’s take this to Kirby.”

Exactly what Gale had in mind. If they were up against a cult, and they were, she wasn’t about to go in alone or with just Sidney as her backup.

~X~

She was dreaming once again, though for once it wasn’t a reunion with you. It wasn’t even that much of a dream as it was a memory. The two of you just signed the papers, you just got married, without much of a fuss or a huge ceremony, you just signed the papers, and you made a reservation in a small restaurant you and Tara loved to go to.

For your first dance? Somehow the only song that seemed to fit was “You had me from hello” and the two of you let the music guide your movement, dancing to the tunes without a care in the world. Nothing else existed, just the two of you and the future ahead of you. That was all that mattered at the moment. You were all she could feel, your body pressed against her own, your lips gently brushing against her cheek, your hands on her hips and hers around your neck as she moved even closer to you. And then you lifted her up in the air, spinning around easily and she just laughed, prompting you to join in as well.

She looked at your eyes, at the wide, happy grin on your face and she was reminded of the photo she saw of you when you were a child, the one photo you had with Zack, and that grin. When she first saw it she thought she had never seen you grinning as widely, but here you were, grinning even wider and brighter than even back then. You were taking Tara’s breath away and she would happily let you if it meant she could watch the grin this wide on your face for just a second longer.

“Breathe, Love,” you laughed, pecking her lips and lowering her back to her feet.

“Right, sorry,” she chuckled, pulling you down for a deeper kiss, pouring all her love and desire and every other emotion into it. She could only hope you felt how much she loved you as she tried to get as close to you as she possibly could while still being appropriate.

“I love you, I love you so much, Tara,” you whispered when you had to separate so Tara could breathe.

“I love you too, Y/N, more than you could ever realize,” she said it so easily, and she’d yell it for the entire world to hear if needed, that you were the only one for her, that you were the love of her life, that you were her everything.

She woke up startled, before she could hear you say you knew how much she loved you, before she could hear you say you loved her just as much, and before you promised to love her for the rest of your life. And it hurt that the dream was so abruptly over, and it hurt even more that she was thrown right back into the reality that was the exact opposite.

It was the reality in which she just barely knew you were alive, without knowing if you were fine, or injured. A reality in which she was on her own, surrounded by enemies, by people that wanted her dead. A reality in which Sam was involved in all of this and that hurt even more, that Sam might have known what was about to happen to you, and didn’t do anything to prevent it, knowing full well the consequences of that.

How cruel did her mind have to be? To conjure such happy memories in her dreams when reality was trying to shatter her completely. And to make matters even worse, she felt herself breaking with every second she spent here. Alone, on the cold concrete, in the empty room with only the heavy doors breaking the monotone walls, and with no way to know how much time has passed since she last saw anyone.

~X~

A well-placed shot to the tire made the villain lose control of the vehicle, forcing it to go off the road and down the steep, rocky hill. Ghostface stopped, enjoying the brief show of Sidney’s car flipping over several times and he wasn’t sure, but he was willing to bet a body fell out of the car. Smirking, he pulled off the helmet, revealing slightly longer hair, styled to resemble the original hero, the one and only Billy Loomis. He even did some minor plastic surgery to resemble the man more. By the end of this, all of this, he would take on Billy’s mantle entirely. But first… he would get rid of Sidney and Gale.

Ghostface put on his mask. The only mask without an animal on it, the mask that signified his position above all the others in his cult. He began walking down the hill, careful, but still fast enough to make sure no one could escape, his path lit by the flashlight attached to his shoulder.

One of the women did fall out. Gale, in fact. “Hello, Gale,” he approached her, the robes trailing behind him, the Grimm reaper has arrived to take the lives of the women that so persistently survived.

She was barely conscious, and from the looks of it she broke her leg during the fall. She certainly wasn’t conscious enough to even respond, only groaning as he pulled her up so she would sit. “Age must have caught up with you. I’ll end this quickly,” he stabbed her in the guts and then stabbed another knife into her lower back and as Gale screamed, he pulled the knives up, ripping through her flesh.

Her body fell to the ground, the dry earth soaking up her blood, but it wasn’t enough. Ghostface pulled out a gun.

 The gunshot echoed, and Ghostface gleefully watched as blood trickled down from the reporter’s forehead. “I wonder if you would have thought twice about getting involved if you knew this was the end for you,” he sighed, his gleeful demeanor shifting now that the fun would soon be over. He looked ahead, to where the car hit the tree and stopped. Luckily it didn’t explode, it would be a shame if Sidney died in a car explosion.

Gale’s leg was broken from falling out of the car, the chances of Sidney being dead weren’t small, and if she was somehow still alive she was definitely injured, so he wasn’t in a rush. He slowly approached the car and saw her, just barely hanging on, clinging to life like she did so many times. The trail of blood behind her as she tried to crawl out of the car that was toppled over told him all he needed to know, something made a rather deep cut and he guessed that was more than enough to qualify as a stab wound.

Finally, the greatest villain of them all would be dead. Ghostface pointed his gun at the woman no longer carrying the mantle of ‘final girl’, she wouldn’t even be the grand finale. “Gotta shoot them in the head,” he taunted as Sidney kept trying to crawl away from the car wreck.

“Fuck you,” she still had the strength to curse at him, not that it mattered. It would be over soon.

“I have to admit, as far as last words go, I thought you’d be more imaginative,” he smirked behind the mask, ready to pull the trigger, but before he could do that the universe once again took Sidney Prescott’s side as bullets hit the car behind him, forcing him to duck and find cover.

“Fuck,” he expected police, or at the very least Kirby to show up, to try and stop Sidney’s execution, he didn’t expect another Ghostface rushing over to Sidney’s side and looking around to try and find him. The snake painted on the mask was clear, even in the moonlight. He had a traitor in his ranks, and he’d deal with the traitor easily enough, when the right time comes.

For now, he just watched from the shadows, furious as the Ghost-Snake ran away with Sidney over their shoulder.

~X~

Kirby leaned against the wall of the hospital hall, another victim, another life lost, and one more that was yet to be saved. She bit her lower lip, her heart clenching as the dimly lit hall threatened to consume her in shadows. Gale was dead, Sidney might still die, that’s how serious her injuries were, and all they had to show for all that? Tara’s possible location that Gale managed to figure out.

Maybe they really would lose this time. Maybe Ghostface would truly win, and everyone ever connected to these killings would end up dead. The phone in her pocket suddenly began buzzing and she nearly had a heart attack right then and there. She didn’t know if this was it for her, if this call was the Ghostface sent to try and kill her, but she took a deep breath and, though her hands were shaky answered.

“I found her,” was the only thing she heard before the call ended abruptly, and despite the circumstances, Kirby allowed herself a small smile.

There might still be some hope after all. Her obsession with tracking the cult down was paying off, a bit too late, given how many lives were lost, but perhaps it would save the rest of them.

~X~

Mindy knew she shouldn’t have listened to Kirby, she knew she should have listened to her guts. And now Tara was kidnapped, and Danny was dead, because they weren’t there for Tara when she needed them the most. Especially when Gale was dead and Sidney was fighting for her life in this very moment. Tara needed someone to help her through this, and they wouldn’t stop until they found her.

Chad burst through the doors, bag in hand just as she and Anika finished packing the essentials.  They didn’t need to say a word to one another, the decision was already made. There was no way they were going to just wait here, so far away from Tara until someone told them the news. And Kirby wasn’t going to be able to convince either of them to stay put, not matter what argument she used. Their careers? To hell with that! If the career meant leaving their dearest friends to fight for their lives alone them neither of them needed those careers!

Her phone buzzed and she checked to see who was calling her as Chad and Anika went still fearing the worst.

“It’s Kirby,” Mindy quickly answered the phone. “Don’t even try, Kirby, we’re coming,” she quickly shut down any potential arguments.

“Things changed, we know where she is,” Kirby sounded relieved, even happy.

“Tara?!” Chad exclaimed what all three of them thought. If they found Tara and could rescue her then they could focus on finding you and Sam and getting out of this without more lives being lost.

“No,” Kirby’s word deflated their hopes in an instant. “We found Y/N.”

Mindy gasped and looked at Anika and Chad, and saw equally elated looks on their faces. You being found changed absolutely everything, and it would change everything for Tara as well. With you by her side Tara would get through this much easier, you’d be there to comfort her, protect her, make her feel safe. As much as Mindy teased the two of you she knew you were what Tara needed, physically and emotionally.

You were found and suddenly the situation no longer seemed as dire as even a few minutes ago.

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Taglist: @alexkolax

[lucysarah-c]

Hello, sweetie, I hope you're having a good day or night. Don't forget to eat your meals and drink lots of water!

I'm actually curious about how Levi would act around an asthmatic S/O. I am currently lying in my bed due to a recent asthma attack. Literally the slightest thing can cause me to have an asthmatic reaction, whether it's the weather or a strong smell, which gives me a horrible flu and that progresses to asthma, so I'm sensitive in that sense. I wanted to know how Levi would be with a S/O like that.

Alternative context: feed my delulu mind, please

Hi!! OMG, thank you! I’m having a decent day, though I’m almost freezing here at the end of the world that I call my country. lol

Oh no, sweetie! I hope you’re feeling better by now. 😔 I’m so sorry to hear that you’re going through something like that!

I don't want to shamelessly promote my long Levi x reader fic, haha, but in "Holy Ground," the reader character is quite similar to you. She has always had very delicate health and also struggles with asthma. Of course, I understand that everyone’s experience is unique. I based a lot of what I wrote in "Holy Ground" on my best friend who has asthma. But I’m sure I made some mistakes, so I apologize in advance.

Overall, I feel that Levi has an intrinsic fear of seeing those he loves fall ill. I delve into this a lot in my fic, but I have a headcanon that Levi struggles deeply when his loved ones are sick because it reminds him of his mother. You can tell him it’s "normal" for you or "just a cold," but he doesn’t easily believe it. In my headcanon, this is probably one of the reasons behind his obsession with cleanliness.

So, I think he would be very overprotective, maybe even a bit controlling. He might insist, "Don’t go outside without a coat; it’s too cold for you." If someone is smoking nearby, he might take their cigarette away and dare them to try arguing with him about it. If dust affects you, your place will be spotless. He would probably be worried sick about you. 😂

I hope you feel better soon! Sending you all my best energy so you recover quickly. Stay safe!

Take care of yourself!

Lots of love! ❤️

[tetsunabouquet]

Hello again and sorry if i ask you so much 💞😖can i request GoM + Imayoshi headcannons to how they would react to their partner with asthma having a respiratory attack on the court while practicing with the team and they would be scared not knowing that the reader suffered from asthma, I have been kicked from several teams due to this already Either because they discriminate against me or they don't see me capable and many times I hide my illness due to criticism :(

A/N: Baby, I want requests! It's okay to ask, that's why my askbox is open ;). Trust me, I get the drama. I was born with GERD, which is an chronic illness that can also cause the development of other illnesses. Thanks to it, I developped IBS (the radiology appointment I mentioned at the start of the summer was due to that) and you can also develop asthma from it. I actually did became more sensitive to things like fumes and smoking people due to it, so asthma is probably next on my comorbidity bingo card.

When I was a kid, my teachers would always treat me like I was over-exaggerating during P.E and I'll never forget the time when I was like 9, I wasn't feeling too great and a ball was thrown with extreme intensity into my chest by this upperclassmen in a game of dodgeball. Instinctively, I ran to the shower to puke it out, and my teacher's response was to get back in the game and to stop making such a fuss. So I had to, and I remember not trying to burst into tears for the rest of the game. I ended up developping a hatred for working out, and that's the reason I ended up developping a shoulder injury when I finally dared to follow my dreams and sign up for acrobatic classes. Because I exercised less then the other girls outside of our classes which was a shame as I did have talent actually. If only my teachers had taken me seriously on the moments I was too sick to exercise, I wouldn't have been skipping P.E by the time I hit my puberty.

So trust me, I get how painful this topic can be. Because basketball is a single sex sport, I'll be writing this male coded.

Akashi

-Him. Him not knowing his s/o's chronic illness? Not happening. This boy has only been pretending not to know because he's waiting for the day that you'll open up about it yourself. -When the attack happens, this boy's thinking is going at the speed of light. -He does everything according to the book, knowing how to help you. -He's a perfect gentleman throughout the event. -Your coach knows better then to reprimand you or to kick you off the team, feeling Akashi's intense aura even from that distance. -Everyone is too scared to even crack a ligh-hearted joke about it to you in the locker room, they're too scared Akashi will hire hoodlums to set their homes afire.

Midorima

-He actually also secretly knows. This boy might be dense about other people's social lives, he's not that way about his s/o. He cares so deeply about you, he wants to know everything about you. But he always plays dumb because he doesn't wants to be exposed as your secret stalker. -When the attack happens, this future doctor knows exactly what to do. -He's not simply good at knowing what to do, oh no, this is the one area where he beats Akashi. -Midorima even carries around a small pouch in his schoolbag that contains various tea blends that he read work wonderful after a respiratory attack. After you've finished up in the locker room after practise, this boy will start preparing some iced tea with the flavor you picked before you can blink. -You're not the one receiving criticism, or the butt of the joke. Midorima, and his secret nursing pouch is. -Shutoku's coach is a bit worried about you, but considering Midorima is less selfish around you, he's willing to forget this happened as he can recognize you improve the team.

Murasakibara

-This guy, and a medical emergency? Oh, it's hopeless. -First he stands around, just gawking at the scene. -Then he fumbles around, wondering what to do. Himuro is honestly the one directing his actions with instructions. -Coach Araki might be a strong willed bad-ass, but I bet she can have a motherly side to her, so she's worried but supportive of you. After this, she developped a bit of a soft spot that depending on the type of person you are might be a bit annoying, but you understand it's coming from a good place so you shrug her off with a smile.

Kise

-Similar to Murasakibara, but for a different reason. -Like, first you have a short pause where he gawks at you, and then he shoots into panic mode. Kise is trying to be supportive by hyperventilating. -The entire team has to pause the game to help you and get Kise to calm down. -Kise won't calm down until you have recovered and waved your hands in his face telling him to shut up, to which he responses with kissing you. -The coach refrains from making any criticizing comment towards you, fearing another Kise tantrum but he does make the mental notes to be more strict when he was seeing signs of an attack coming up.

Aomine

-This guy is known for not being so sensitive about these things, and thus I think he would have the worst reaction out of everyone. -For one, it needs time with this fucker to sink in that it's serious. -It takes Momoi rushing to you and checking up on you on the edge of a panic attack for Aomine to notice you. -He tries to help, but he's incredibly clumsy about it in a cute way though. -The coach lets this incident go by, I mean, this asshole just ignores Aomine and potentially Sakurai's mental health issues, so I can imagine him to just downright ignore a player's physical health issues as well.

Imayoshi

-Honestly terrified. -But he does manage to keep a cool head and not to go straight into panic zone. -Doesn't knows what the fuck to do but he's willing to learn. -He's very caring when you're trying to recover and practically never stops with petting your shoulder. -Considering he's on the same team as Aomine, the coach's reaction will still be the same. He doesn't gives a fuck about it.

[bye-shou]

luca kaneshiro × gn!reader

angst

characters : luca kaneshiro

side characters : -

warnings : character death, hurt no comfort (i think you know what's up), suicide❗❗❗, implied self harm❗

please do NOT interact if you are sensitive to the topics marked with exclamation marks (❗)

summary : your husband's asthma has been getting worse, but he's been saying that it's fine, and that he didn't need to go to the doctor. but...

i managed to cook up something!1!!11

⇚ ↺ ⇛

you are the significant other of luca kaneshiro, a boss of one of the most famous companies in the whole world.

you were doing chores, like sweeping & mopping the floors, cooking, organizing, being a responsible housekeeper.

you hear some footsteps, and are met with a hug from your dear husband.

"welcome home, dear." you greet, smiling as luca keeps you in a warm embrace.

"hey..." he greets back, still hugging you tightly. then, he coughs.

"oh, are you sick? or is your asthma acting up again..?" you ask worriedly, as luca tries holding back coughs.

"it's okay. i'm fine, don't worry about me." he says, patting your back reassuringly.

"if you say so... but please go to the doctor if the symptoms get worse..." you get worried. luca rarely got asthma attacks the past few weeks, but it seems something happened.

"you should work so hard, you know...? take a break, working without rest is harmful to your health." you advise, your voice soft, worry visible in your words.

"it's fine. the bills won't pay themselves, you know?" he jokes, however you didn't laugh.

"well... your inhaler is on the table. i'll prepare something that won't make your asthma worse, okay?" you say, before pulling away from his hug and going to the kitchen. luca just nods, letting go of you.

he goes to the bathroom to shower after a long day at work, while you prepare some chicken & rice with spinach and kale. you also cut up some fruits.

luca came to the dinner table, ready to eat. although he didn't enjoy vegetables a lot, he knew he had to eat them.

you two enjoyed dinner, and decided to do your own things. luca did his normal things like working.

it was 10pm, and you both decided to get some rest so you could wake up early for a new day tomorrow.

you two hugged and cuddled together, and eventually fell asleep.

the next few days were similar. his asthma getting worse, yet him refusing to go to the doctor and telling you not to worry.

⇚ ↺ ⇛

you both went to bed early, because you both had matters to attend to — luca needing to go to work and you needing to run a few errands.

when you woke up, you realized luca was not by your side. you thought that he probably just went to get ready.

when you went out, you saw luca.

but... he didn't give you a hug and big smile. instead, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

"luca!? a-answer me..! luca!" you realized tears were forming in your eyes. you immediately ran to get your phone, then called 911.

"h-hello!? 911...! my husband passed out, his asthma has been worse lately, but he saw it as nothing... but this morning, i found him passed out on the floor...!" you manage to sob out, you were so scared of what was gonna happen to him.

"calm down, where's the address? we'll send an ambulance right away!" the officer on the other side said, getting ready to dispatch an ambulance.

"i-it's xxx, b-block b xx..!" you tried calling yourself down, but you just couldn't. you started crying, breaking down.

"okay, i have dispatched an ambulance. stay on the call with me." she says, telling you reassuring words how your husband will be fine.

when the ambulance came, they immediately brought luca into the ambulance and set off to the hospital asap, as the officer on the phone hung up.

you drove the the hospital, and searched for the room luca was in.

you waited and waited outside, waiting for the news about him. your heart was racing, you were nervous.

a doctor went out of luca's room, and you hoped that he went to bring out good news. but, he seemed really sad.

"𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮. 𝙬𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜." the doctor said, "please be patient. really, we tried everything. but... 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵."

just those four words were enough to make you burst into tears. you were in denial, there's no way he's gone, right...? you two were being all lovey-dovey the other day... how...?

⇚ ↺ ⇛

ever since that day, you were in a deep depression.

you couldn't do anything, you couldn't even get out of bed.

you couldn't bear it. you couldn't bear the fact that your dear husband for five years, has passed on.

you didn't want to believe it. you tried convincing yourself that it was just a dream.

but, you have to face reality.

he's gone. and there's nothing you can do about it.

you sobbed day and night, you were so guilty. why didn't you bring him to the hospital, when you knew it was the right choice?

you felt like a horrible person.

⇚ ↺ ⇛

eventually, you got up. not positively, though.

you started hurting yourself, whether it be cutting yourself or not eating at all.

you felt horrible. you had no appetite, you didn't feel like you could ever be happy ever again.

one day, you chose a choice that will never be able to be reversed.

you chose to 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. hoping that, maybe you'll get to see luca in heaven, and you two could meet up happily again.

you went to the beach, and made sure to go to an area where there was nobody guarding it.

you slowly walked into the water, without stopping.

you went deeper and deeper into the water, you didn't care if your clothes were soaked by now.

slowly but surely, your lungs started getting filled up with water.

you couldn't breathe, though you were holding in your coughs to make sure there wasn't any unwanted attention.

eventually, you 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. everything was dark, and you hoped no one would find you. you were nowhere near the shore, after all.

maybe luca wanted you to live a long life, but you couldn't bear to live like that when your dear husband has passed on.

[priestly-prince]

hiya 👋 so I basically consider you like, The faith guy, because you seem to be really good at analyzing the characters and story. with that in mind, I want your feedback on a question, but it's about a sensitive topic, so please prioritize your own well-being and don't answer if you're not comfortable doing so.

my question is, do you think John would ever self-harm in any way? it's clear that he struggles emotionally, and I feel like it might be something he would give into doing given how much pressure he's under during the events of the game. that and the whole straitjacket thing- usually patients are only restrained like that if they're an active danger to themselves or others

again, if this isn't something you're comfortable answering, I won't be at all offended if you just delete it and move on. have a great day <3

Oh my gosh, well hi! Thank you so much, I appreciate that. That means a lot, especially given how disconnected I feel to the rest of the fandom. But yeah, FAITH has been my hyperfixation for the past 2 years or so, so I'm kinda down with the brainrot.

This is me.

Anyway, to answer the question, I'm gonna land on a solid maybe, heavily leaning into probably. The damnatio memorae ending has John all but say that he believes he deserves to die, so I certainly believe he at least has thoughts of suicide, and that ending might well be a metaphor for him doing so. (The thought being that he took his life in the spare room, and everything else was a dying dream).

For actual self harm, possibly. In Yale, he was restrained I think primarily because he was a danger to others. The murderer ending in chapter I mentions him becoming erratic and aggressive, so there is evidence for him becoming hostile when stressed. As for a danger to himself, I have a theory that just hit me now when thinking about this. While restrained in his cell, if the vision from the Unholy Spirit is to be considered accurate, we see that the walls of his cell are covered with crosses. But I always kinda wondered how. There's no way they're going to let someone restrained, in a padded cell, have access to paint or pens or pencils, as they're hazardous to the safety of an unstable person. So the idea that just came to me is that the crosses aren't paint or ink... They're blood. As to why they're bright blue, it's to signify that it is John's blood specifically. (I know this theory breaks down when we see that John's blood is normal under other circumstances, but I'm calling symbolism. Also it's just a dumb theory idea that came to me now.) But yeah, it's possible he could have chewed his fingers till they bled, painted on the walls, and then got restrained to stop him from doing that.

Now, outside of that, when released and returned to society, is when it becomes more or a maybe. I don't see him doing anything that might leave marks or scar, or draw blood. I think he places a lot of importance on how he's perceived, and his public image so to speak, and so wouldn't want anything like that colouring people's perception of him. But, there are other forms of self harm that don't leave permanent scars. So it's possible that he could at least inflict pain on himself in that way.

Also, a couple of people have mentioned that he may well use smoking as a form of self-harm. Especially with him having dormant asthma. Perhaps there is part of him that hopes to relapse and cause an attack. Perhaps an accidental form of suicide without out actually committing to it himself.

But yeah, overall a maybe, but I can see how it might be likely.

[whumpdrivethru]

Hi, can I please order a nightmare/night terror where the whumpee devolves into a panic attack and/or a dissociative episode and the caretaker comforts them?

Thank youuuu 🥰

First of all, I am sooooo incredibly sorry at how late this is, but college has legit been destroying me. i hope you enjoy this meal tho < 3

-Nat

Rough Night

TW: Smoking, knife, asthma, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, non-con (non-sexual) touch, implied torture, nightmare, dissociation, captivity, blood mention

Everywhere. The pungent, seemingly everlasting scent of tobacco smoke had filled the room, crawling into Whumpee's lungs with a disturbingly familiar and yet irritating burn. Being asthmatic, he was a whole lot more sensitive to it than the average person, and Whumper knew that, and it was all the more reason for him to take pleasure in his old, filthy habit.

Though the smoke wasn't the only reason Whumpee's breathing had constricted. A rough, calloused hand landed on his head, petting his hair in a humiliating display of mock-comfort. A harsh laugh escaped Whumper's lips, revelling in how Whumpee's entire body tensed, his breathing laboured, and his eyes wide and darting everywhere.

The man's grip tightened on his captive's hair, roughly fisting the strands with his fingers. "It's pretty adorable, you know, the fact that you thought you'd get away with this," he crooned in an oily voice that sent shivers up his spine.

Whumper took in another long drag from the cigarette clutched in his left hand, slowly exhaling in Whumpee's direction, making him cough, his eyes watering and nausea settling in a pit in his stomach. Any further and he was going to have an asthma attack, one of Whumper's favourite methods of tormenting him, though it only lasted for a short time until he gave him an inhaler. He couldn't have his favourite toy dying on him, now could he? Besides, it wasn't hard for him to come up with more sick punishments for Whumpee anyway.

He threw his dead cigarette on the ground, stamping on it with his boot. "No matter how amusing I find your optimism, it doesn't override how bloody annoying it is when you do exactly what I explicitly told you not to and make me have to chase you around," he snarled, his hold on Whumpee's locks even crueller now, warranting a soft whine to escape his lips.

"Since following simple rules has proven to be so difficult for you, how about we try a little something to make them stick?" The phrasing of it as a question was mercilessly ironic, as though anything in this was up to Whumpee.

He pulled a glinting switchblade out from his pocket, twirling it around with his fingers, a sadistic half-smirk gracing his lips. 

On instinct, Whumpee tried to pull away, which was quite possibly the most foolish thing anyone could ever think of doing, and still he found himself in the other man's furious death grip, the bitingly ice-cold blade of the knife pressed into the skin of his abdomen underneath the flimsy, shredded shirt making his skin crawl. 

He bit down a scream, one of many to come, but it didn't matter, none of it did because he would scream anyway, loud enough until his throat burned, up until he'd lost enough blood to pass out, but not quite enough to die. 

He wasn't sure which he despised more, his own screaming or Whumper's sick laughter, but the truth was, both of these poisons were being poured into his ears anyway. . .

Cold sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead, shivers racking his entire form as the covers slipped off his shoulders, his mind still racing with all the fear and panic of a wild animal. 

“J-just leave me a-alone, please, please, I won't try to run- to run away again,” he pleaded, voice hoarse and broken. 

He hadn't even registered that he'd woken up, biting down hard on his lips as he tried to quiet himself, practically fighting against the covers that felt like chains biting into his body. Whumper was still there, sneering at him. He was always there, in the dark corners of his mind, his rough, calloused hands wrapped around his neck, fisting through his hair, dealing harrowing punches to his form. 

Stop. Stop. Goddamn it, you bastard, what the hell did I ever do for this, just stop! 

But it didn't stop. Like how Hell never stops burning. 

“Sweetheart?” Caretaker's voice called out, cutting through his toxic chain of thought. 

He turned around abruptly, his eyes boring into hers, a silent cry for help, even though he wasn't sure who he was looking at. 

“Another nightmare?” she questioned again, pulling him closer into her embrace. 

It had taken Whumpee some time to figure out that he was safe, that the embrace was much too delicate to be Whumper trying to stop him from running away, to stop trying to fight and to catch his laboured breath.

“I'm fine,” he answered, much too late, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and smiling softly as though he was just responding normally to a gesture of affection, as though what he'd just seen  and done was another annoying thing he could just brush off. 

It was something he'd trained himself to do. Normally, his dissociations were a private matter, limited to his thoughts, but sometimes, they got terrible. Like right now.

“You were screaming,” she attested, pulling away from him, the look in her eyes turning more stern now. 

He let out a soft curse, a frustrated look that was somewhere between guilt and annoyance colouring his features as his brows furrowed, and the muscles in his shoulders went tense. 

This just had to happen every goddamn time didn't it? Another nightmare where he seemed to lose control he'd spent ages building, all the defiance, the fear, the hot shame burning at the back of his throat like pure acid. 

Whumpee wasn't even sure when the tears started flowing down his face, tasting like salt on his tongue, and it didn't matter that he'd stifled them, or suppressed his shivering, Caretaker noticed anyway.

She always did.

“Hey,” she started gently, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, “you're alright. Whatever you've taught yourself to hide, you don't have to around me. You shouldn't have to suffer alone,” she added, rubbing circles into his shoulders.

“I just.  . .didn't want you to have to suffer with me,” he explained through a sniffle, his voice half-broken, half-steady.

“Sweetheart. I am in no way better off not knowing about anything that's hurting you. When you tell me, I worry less. Because I still notice even when you try to hide, Whumpee.” 

He nodded in response, his few false starts proving fruitless, trying to steady himself, allowing himself the luxury of letting a stray tear stream down his face every now and then as Caretaker kneaded out the tension in his muscles, her fingers blissfully cool against his shoulder blades.

He'd calmed down a little under the gentle touch, letting out a soft sigh in spite of himself. Maybe it didn't completely erase his pain, but touch was a primitive thing, relaxing his body and letting his mind reflexively follow suit. 

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Whumpee found himself pulling Caretaker into his arms; wrapping them gently around her form. “Thank you. For everything, love,” he said softly, kissing her forehead.

“Nothing you need to thank me for, sweetie.”

Maybe a harsh past doesn't truly leave you unscathed, scars marking your form, prone to reopening. But it is fortunate that people and products are not one and the same, and you aren't a broken object in need of fixing and covering up. All it truly takes is someone to make the darker nights just a little less desolate and foreboding. 

You have been served by Natalia 💙

[divine-misfortune]

YOU UNDERSTANDDDDDD !!!!!!!!!!! <3

if you have thoughts… please share, i beg 👀 /nf

Steeples fingers

So my thoughts are all over the place there is no coherency in this house

No but like I've bothered Crim about them soo much because I'm obsessed

Phantom is too - phantom thinks that Zeph is the prettiest thing ever willed into existence. A fallen star gracing the earth, gracing him, with their mere presence.

He admired them from afar for the longest time. Hiding in the shelves of the library, peeking up from a book he'd been pretending to read for an hour, all to catch a glimpse. See them in their element; glasses slipped down the bridge of their nose, brow furrowed, focused on transcribing. He loves the shape of their profile, the way they move their lips silently while writing, oh he's outright smitten with every fine detail. And he hasn't gone unnoticed...Zephyr doesn't think he's subtle, but they like the attention. They spare him these crooked soft smiles in passing and he nearly trips over himself. Makes his heart beat out of his chest.

Theyre good for each other, yknow?

Phantom's quintessence is good for easing the aches they can't seem to soothe themself, and Zephyr helps the poor bug when his lungs can't seem to take the air he needs. They brought him out of his first asthma attack, careful to guide each breath with their magic. He thought they were an angel in his panic.

A lot of Phantom's flare on stage was first inspired by them - Aether showed him videos of old performances. Something about them during their keytar solo always stuck with him. He's far too embarrassed to tell them that though. I'm sure Zeph knows.

He's a little jealous of how easy Mountain, Dew, and Aether seem around them. Bonded already, intimately familiar with every inch of each other. Phantom aches for that familiarity. It'll come with time, but still doesn't change it.

When they get closer, Zephyr starts finding pressed flowers left for them. Slipped under their door or left at their work station, sometimes sitting on the organ keys just waiting for them. Little violets mostly.

......and NSFW under the cut here because of course I'm gonna be horny about them

I hc air ghouls as having feathers, and oh god Zeph's got the prettiest silver feathers. Pretty but fuck are they sensitive to touch. Start petting them, massaging your fingers in, they melt. Phantom discovered it on accident, idly playing with their hair, starting to fuss with the feathers. They're gasping and whining in seconds, Zeph turns so pink. Phantom's favorite thing is to be in their lap, bouncing on their cock, fingers buried into their feathers, because their eyes roll back and just fucking stay there.

And if you remember this ficlet you'll recall their fun little breathplay adventures...I just think Zeph gets off on having so much effortless control over Phantom with just their magic. A younger, spry, ghoul. Helpless to their will, at their feet begging for a single breath with his eyes alone. It's fucking delicious. It's an image that stays in their mind for a long time, that they recall often on lonely nights.

I don't think Zeph loves quintessence being used for anything besides pain relief but I think there are days where they ask Phantom to indulge them. Days where their spine feels like there are needles digging between the vertebrae or their hip refuses to not pop out of place, but something still coils up in their belly. Hot and insatiable, a literal ache of need that hurts almost as much as the rest of their body. Phantom is more than happy to lay beside them, stroking their cheek as his magic makes a home in their eyes, watching bliss take their face, their fingers curl into the sheets. The sensation of being fucked, split open on some unseen force, overwhelms them, overtakes them. He wrings out at least two orgasms from them each time, the second one is always selfishly taken but they're beyond content when his influence fully seeps out. Phantom is always sweet enough to clean their mess up with his tongue.

Phantom loves shame, nothing gets him as hard as a little bit of humiliation. And being degraded and chastised by Zephyr hits so different. It sounds elegant, pitying, amused all at once. There's something about the bass of their voice delivering it softly, like it's a secret that he's a disgusting pervert, like they're doing him a favor by keeping their voice down. It never fails to get his cock leaking in his boxers. Combine that with Zeph and their fondness for fucking in places that are entirely inappropriate? Oh Phantom doesn't stand a chance.

So often he'll find himself on his knees under their desk in the library, their steady hand fisted into his hair while the other one scribbles away diligently at the logs. Sometimes, if the rooms empty, they'll look down at him in whatever sorry state he's in. Always drooling around their cock, sometimes causing a wet spot on their slacks sometimes not. Always teary eyed and flushed. If they're feeling particularly cold they'll force him to the base just to see him gag, but they always talk down to him. That's his favorite part. Seemingly disgusted or humored in some way ('didn't even fight me when I told you to crawl under my desk like a dog', 'did you just forget where we are?', 'Too fixated on the promise of a cock down your throat that you forgot how to think rationally?'). Phantom can't help but moan every time, and they always have to remind him to keep it down - they are in a library after all.

[foodandfolklore]

The Era of Allergies

Allergies are a wild thing. We humans have had allergies for thousands of years, we just didn't know how to identify it. There was a recording of an Egyptian pharaoh dying after a single bee sting. In the 1600s, Jean Baptiste van Helmont recorded several instances of what was described as asthma attacks after people ingested sea food like shellfish. Hay fever allergies were seen more like a seasonal illness like a cold. It wasn't until Dr. John Bostock started recording his symptoms in 1812 that allergy study started.

So after more than 200 years of research, we can conclude that Allergies are a real thing. But we still don't know exactly what causes them. Which is a problem, because food allergies are on the rise. We know what happens. In a (nut free) nut shell, our immune system makes an antibody for specific proteins related to food. When our immune system comes in contact with these proteins from a specific food, then release the antibodies to go on the attack. This attack then causes our body to release a bunch of chemicals that causes itching and swelling. Some people get hives, some people's throat swell shut. It's all very personal.

What's really wild is allergies are very unique to each person. Varying in sensitivity and specificity. My mom for example can eat fresh strawberries with no issue. But if they're frozen first, she breaks out in hives. There was a kid at my school who so much as touched coconut ballooned up and needed an epi pen. And I talked to this one guy who was allergic to egg whites but could eat egg yolks with no issue.

So What's causing all these food allergies? What triggers them? Why are they not consistent? Well, the truth of the matter is we don't know for sure. But people smarter than me have some theories. The first theory, (which while I don't think it's the main thing going on, it's probably a big contributor) is we now know what an allergy is and can better record it, as well as treat it. The few possible instances of food allergies in the past may of been misdiagnosed asthma or skin rashes.

The next theory has been that children were eating too much of an allergen prone food too early in life. This is where the explanation of 'Why is everyone allergic to peanuts?' comes from. Because everyone was eating a bunch of peanut butter. So doctors advised parents not to feed their young children allergy prone foods like nuts and eggs. However, that theory has been debunked and doctors are saying again it's fine to introduce your child to these foods. I'm not a doctor so I'm not going to say one way or the other. Just talk to your child's doctor if you have concerns and remember that adults can develop allergies too.

The final theory (And the one I like) is we now live in a very clean society. We know about soap, proper bathing, use chemicals to sterilize our dishware, have food safety protocols; our immune system is looking for something to do. So it decides a protein from a food looks a little like the plague and BAM; off it goes.

Now again, we're not 100% sure why some people get food allergies and some people don't. But it seems to be mostly environmental with minimal genetic components. Which is so new to be figured out, my medical records still say I'm allergic to penicillin despite never having it (My dad was allergic). So here are some things that seem to correlate, though we can't confirm if there's a causation.

Children raised in a house with a cat or dog will be less likely to develop an allergy. Children who start eating a variety of foods from age 6 months in small amounts are less likely to develop an allergy. People with food allergies and asthma are more likely to have an anaphylactic response.

Breastfed babies will be less likely to develop food allergies.

Once you develop an allergy, there is no 'cure'. You might grow out of it, or your doctors can train your body to become less intense. But anything allergy related should be monitored by a doctor. If you encounter anyone who has a severe food allergy, please ask them about their epi-pen! Know where it is so you can get it to them, and how to use it in case they can't.

[m-t-nester]

An audio file is attached. Would you like to listen?

"Please-- please don't come in," Em says, voice cracked and shaky. "Okay?"

"I'll trust you on this one," Cynthia says, sounding just as tense. "But you need to talk to me. Okay?"

"I'm not talking about my feelings."

"I'm not asking that." Cynthia gives a little laugh. "Is this another relationship escalator thing? Are we not allowed to talk about feelings until we know each other better?"

"....no, it's just hard to talk about." A pause. "Maybe a little. But that one isn't restricted to romantic engagements so much as it is intimacy. A professional relationship is largely absent of intimacy, although trust may increase greatly. A friendship requires repeated positive interactions on a small scale to build up. Refusal to build it up further is seen as normal. The idea behind building friendships is that you invite someone as far into your life as you wish. A work friend may be vaguely homophobic. You do not invite them for dinner or drinks. But you interact them at work and they are a good conversationalist otherwise."

"What about if someone moves too fast, in terms of friendships?" Cynthia asks.

"If it's early enough, you can ghost them. If it's too late, turn them down. If they don't get the hint, ghost them."

"Seems like your solution to a lot of things, huh," Cynthia says quietly. "Would you do that to me?"

"Do not do this to me," Em says in a strained voice. "We are not having a relationship talk while I am trying not to have an asthma attack."

"You have asthma?"

"It only flares up when I get really fucking stressed and it's hard to breathe and I can't feel my hands or my face and I would like to talk about something else! Like whatever the hell is wrong with my phone, it's been doing this for years and it won't stop, it only gets worse. I didn't open that app or send that message and, and it's like it wants to reach out to all the things I'm trying to heal from. It's a damn thorn in my side, and it's probably recording right now, because apparently airing my conversations is the only thing it's good for!"

There's a noise like fabric sliding against wood. Then Cynthia's voice, slightly muffled, from the other side of the door: "I wonder if it's weak to dark type moves."

"Wait, what do you mean?" The audio has grown distorted. "Ah... can you just stay with me? I changed my mind, just stay with me."

"Of course. It's not time sensitive, after all," she agrees. "Have you read up on Harrold's The Trainer's Contract? I can get you a copy through the university; I think you'd find it fascinating. Basically, it posits that interactions between wild pokemon and humans are governed by a social contract between two societies that rarely communicate with each other as a whole, but rather through these interactions..."

[craacked-splatters]

FUN FACT!!

Did you know that commercially made icecream🍨 (aka most brands in stores & or served at restaurants) most likely contains a nontoxic antifreeze called propylene glycol? It is supposed to help preserve it and also keep it smooth without any ice crystals forming.

Most homemade or naturally made ice creams turn rockhard after u stick it in a freezer for a while, these suckers stay softer in comparison to them for "customer's satisfaction✨"

Propylene glycol is NOT listed in the ingredient labels or anywhere else and its all thanks to this USDA regulation. It covers all incidental food additive labelling which this ingredient happens 2 falls under, giving any and all manufacturers the chance to like not say anything about it in their products.

Guess what else?

It's not only used in ice cream.

It's also found in other foods (such as dairy products, soft drinks, teas, desserts, alcohol,etc), cosmetics(makeup, lipgloss,facial cleansers, etc) skin & hair care(such as lotions & conditioners) and pharmaceuticals(medicine)

There's a shitton of other things it's also used in that I didn't bother to type here(I'd be here all day & I only have a 5 min break im at work) and even if I did it still wouldn't cover all the other stuff that contains it that we don't know of bcuz it's not ever mentioned or labeled at all

Which i think is evil, bcuz there r ppl who are highly sensitive to it especially ppl who have vulvodynia or interstitial cystitis. This chemical has been known to cause skin problems, asthma, and cause depressive effects on the central nervous system, hypoglycemia, increased risk of seizures & heart attacks, low blood pressure, etc etc

I don't know the amount used for each product (hopefully it's small dosage) but it's hard to avoid propylene glycol when ur exposed to it like this at all times.

I'm not a scientist obviously I won't pretend to act like I know everything on this, and I didn't sit down for hours at 3am searching about this like I usually would, but personally I think they should add this thing and any other ingredients not commonly known to the avg person to the labels or mention somewhere on it.

Treat all these weird ingredients the same way one would with ppl with nut allergies yk? I think it'd help narrow down the exposure to the affected ppl at least.

Anyways yeah 👍 that's my fun fact

[sabakos]

heya, saw your post about the northeast rn. wanted to reassure you, as someone from the west coast where we have regular fire seasons (well...fire summers now really) that you don't have to worry about people dying. the really unhealthy air can make stuff bad for sensitive groups like shortness of breath, coughing, and fatigue, but fatal danger comes from long term exposure to air pollution in terms of years. to be clear this is not good and im so sorry ppl in the northeast are going through this its the worst but i just wanted to make sure you weren't worrying about people dying on top of that.

I appreciate you reaching out. Don't worry, I'm not scared for myself or anyone I know about the wildfire smoke. I'm relatively healthy and not particularly susceptible. But even I'm coughing like I cooked on a charcoal grill for a whole afternoon, and I was only outside doing yardwork for an hour or so yesterday before I found out about why it smelled like a campfire outside.

I'm mostly just sad because it is going to negatively affect a lot of people. This smoke is more dangerous than usual due to the weather, which hasn't really been communicated particularly well. And some people probably will die, especially more vulnerable people who won't or can't seek shelter, or who are elderly and maybe not quite all there anymore even if they're still independent. Or people who have asthma and don't know it yet, or didn't think to bring their inhaler somewhere, or lost it, or can't afford one, who mostly just avoid anything that would trigger an asthma attack.

This is sort of like how people died in Texas when it dropped below freezing even though almost everyone in the Northeast survives it just fine - when extreme weather happens in places that are used to it, the infrastructure and support structures are already in place and there's shared knowledge of what to do in response to it. A place like New York City knows how to deal with hurricanes and blizzards, but most people here won't even think there's anything they should be doing differently because of smoke. "Bad air quality" doesn't mean anything to most people near NYC, my first reaction to that would be "isn't the air always bad in the city?" not "How should I plan for this." This is new. It sucks. I hope it doesn't become something we get used to. It's probably something we will have to get used to. etc.

[vanillafalvoredcoffee]

Is it okay if I suggest some headcanons for Odurkheniya?

✩°｡ ⋆ 🎧✮ Odurkheniya Headcannons ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

She used to be pretty tomboyish and brash in her high school years...I don't really know why I think that about her to be honest...

She knows a secret technique that could make her feel better while she's having an asthma attack when she forgot to bring her inhaler (you have to ask Google on this one)

Her eyes are very sensitive so she doesn't like really bright lights

She likes to keep her house clean every weekend, but when she needs to dust off her furniture she often wears a mask before she does that...or else the dust will get in her nose

She paints her room in magic mint

She still keep her old drawings to herself...most of them are sketches from when she was 11

She doesn't like going outside at all

<3

[tj-crochets]

Hey y’all! I have some slightly weird health questions if you have a sec, because I know have weird health issues but idk which parts of them are weird, if that makes sense? These are all related to allergies, asthma, and tachycardia, and are below a read more

1. if your heart rate is high when standing (today for me it was 140s) do you ever have it drop *immediately* when you sit down? (today it dropped to the 90s the instant I sat) 2. Vice versa, do you ever have your heart rate jump by 30-50 beats per minute when you stand up?  3. Idk if this is an allergy question or an asthma question, but all my asthma triggers except for one are smell related. With coconut, though, I can smell it no problem, but if I try to eat something with coconut in it the moment it is in my mouth I start wheezing. It does not affect my blood oxygen levels* and does not cause visible swelling, but it is to date the only food that causes me to wheeze but does not trigger asthma at all as a smell (peppermints also make me wheeze but they can do that from across the room) 4. If you have issues with low blood pressure, do you find that stretching or yoga absolutely tank your blood pressure?  *I have weird asthma that has never noticeably lowered my blood oxygen levels or affected my lung capacity. One doctor theorized I might actually have “multiple chemical sensitivities resulting in bronchospasms” (and like four or five more words), but apparently the treatment is the same and the differential test is to deliberately induce an asthma attack and I can’t use rescue inhalers because they make my tachycardia flare up very badly so he opted not to do that test. Possible alternate explanations I have gotten from other doctors include “maybe something about your lung capacity as a singer?” and “maybe something about the way pulse oximeters measure things and your circulation issues, idk”. I’m pretty sure I have fairly mild-to-moderate asthma, it just plays very badly with my tachycardia. 

[artsychaosbean]

I'm so tired of this (Rant)

My mom is sensitive to EVERYTHING unless shes the one doing it. > I Open the windows for air BAD bc its too cold > Mom opens the windows on the same day GOOD even though its colder than before when I tried to > Mom puts on perfume in the bedroom GOOD (2 - 3 squirts of a strong perfume) > I Put on perfume in the bedroom BAD (1 squirt of a medium perfume) > I put perfume on in the bathroom with the bath fan on or window open so the smell doesnt linger STILL BAD because mom will then decide to walk right into the room to put on makeup despite my warning about the perfume. Then rages out about it. > Mom or my siblings puts nailpolish on in the house, upstairs in the living area and uses nail polish remover GOOD > I put on nail polish and use natural oils to remove nail polish downstairs with the door closed to upstairs and the door to outside open to prevent smells from lingering in the house BAD its still too strong i have to go do my nails in the pouring rain or snow instead. > Mom brings flowers into the house into a tightly closed room with poor ventilation, flowers im allergic to, every year despite knowing it effects my asthma GOOD > I bring flowers into the house after double checking she has no allergy to them and keep them in an open room that is well ventilated BAD What the heck does she want from me?! Everytime I do something SHE does its wrong Everytime I do something SHE tells me to do its not enough and I have to go to extreme lengths like do my nails in the snow in winter or put perfume on out in the snow or she goes into a screaming match with me. But she has no breathing problems or headaches when SHE does it, When my brothers do it, when GUESTS do it. (Yes we've had guests put perfume on right in our house) But when I do it and ventilate the house well, suddenly she can't breathe yet can breathe enough to stomp around the house slam doors and scream.

I'm tired of the heat being cranked up in the fall and spring as though its winter and in the summer the AC being turned off and windows opened wide when its 28C out. I get heat stroke at anything above 21C and have lung problems with it my lungs have to work harder because I can't breathe. I always have since I was a toddler. My body runs hotter im supposed to be careful. But im made to suffer the heat every single year my whole life and when I open the window suddenly its "Im freezing im going to get hypothermia" at 20 - 21C When I was a kid she would go out in -15C weather just fine and enjoy walks in cooler weather. I don't know what has happened to her. I've gone to a seperate room before on cooler days (16 -18C) and opened a window, closed the door just so I could cool down and enjoy the air because the other rooms would have heaters on in them and be 26C - 28C and I would be struggling in them. Heres another kicker: > I have asthma attack > Mom gets mad and says "WELL WE ALL HAVE ASTHMA" - despite the fact theirs doesn't need an inhaler according to the doctor it is a "very minor case". I have always needed one but mom never would get me one when I was covered by medical for minors and its too expensive to get as an adult now. I could never ever afford it. Even if I could she still would stop me or throw it out because "I don't want you reliant on medicine because then your lungs wont work on their own. DO YOU WANT TO BE ON A BREATHING MACHINE" To note im in constant pain in my lungs every single day of my life, my whole life. Im in my 20s now. I have found natural ways to manage it so its not as bad such a caffeine and try to avoid as much as I can that irritates it. But im living my life on a thin rope. > I have depression and bring it up > Mom says "We all have depression, You're not special. WHAT ABOUT YOUR SIBLINGS?" >I bring up my anxiety > Mom says "Well what about my anxiety? I have it too! or your siblings. Just learn to live with it, just force yourself through it. You don't Try hard enough. > I bring up my ptsd and ask her not to do something that triggers it from numerous cases of s*xual and physical abuse / assault and 2 cases of almost being r*ped. > Mom says "WELL WE ALL HAVE PTSD get over it"

Shes my ONLY parent. She treats my siblings so much different than me and I will never understand why. Is it because im the youngest? or is it because im the one with physical and neurological disabilities? > Mom also says "I never need to worry about you. Look at your poor siblings they need me more. I gave you enough attention as a child" > The "Attention" mom gave me being fighting a court case to protect me from my abusive almost r*pist father. Thats it, my siblings got all the hugs and care, favourite foods made for them, presents and birthday parties as kids.

[lemistired]

Essay- Untitled (again)

I don’t like naming things, I’m bad at it. 

I’ve been in a little bit of a slump for a bit now, my anxiety is getting really bad again, like I’m fighting to leave the house every time I have to. The other week I near enough downed 3/4ths of a bottle of vodka and of course i then saw that same bottle twice. I didn’t even expect that to happen, that’s the funny thing. My asthmas also been acting up like CRAZY cause how humid the air is and how much pollen there is, I hate that my lungs are as sensitive as they are, they can take a lot, but when it hits them it hits them hard, I should really tell them they’re doing a good job from time to time. ANYWAYS this is essentially just a vent that I’ve been adding to when things get a lot, and I’ve decided I’m done with this one cause it’s hard to have any literary flow when you’re in bits. 

People go on about how wonderful life is, yet have you ever found someone who isn’t simply drifting?

I mean yeah, I have these hopes and aspirations, but they’re more like rough suggestions. I don’t even know what I’m doing tomorrow, you can’t even say I’m taking the day as it comes because that’s a blatant lie, I’m simply going through the motions I’ve rehearsed a million times before this.

There is no escape from anything anymore. Alcohol simply allows you to sleep without a plagued mind, gradually your tolerance is getting higher though and the four cans of cider and a shot of vodka doesn’t make you drowsy anymore like it did the first time you drank; you keep drinking trying to get that same effect until suddenly you’ve gone through half a bottle of gin. You know it’s getting bad again when you’ve had a hard day and your first thought is to down some whisky, that’s my drink of choice when the days been rough. If I want a good time having rum usually goes down well, but sometimes the familiarity of that burn going down, setting your chest ablaze, is exactly the kind of comfort you need. Your mornings have started to consist of thinking about clearing away those empty bottles in your room, yet your nights are filled with heavy eyes and a thick taste of regret lining your tongue.

Sometimes it’s not enough, so you try smoking a little, doesn’t matter if it’s a tobacco cigarette or an electronic one, sometimes it’s nice to feel like you’re drowning for a moment. You know you shouldn’t because it’s “shaving years off your life”, you’re asthmatic so you know you’ll feel it when you go into an attack about an hour later. Sometimes I find myself unable to get the oxygen to my lungs, my body is shaking as I’m slowly getting dizzier trying to choke back the nausea, my inhalers won’t work so I sit there rubbing my chest hoping to alleviate the pain.

I’ve lost my sense of identity now; I don’t know last time someone asked me about what my characteristics are and I didn’t fabricate something on the spot. One group thinks I’m some shy, kind, reserved person who cares too much about everyone, another thinks I’m a more head strong, argumentative person—they’re even scared to wake me if I fall asleep just in the off chance I’ll snap at them. My family thinks I’m the most responsible introverted person you can find. The only advantage to not having a set personality is I’ve gotten really well at masking everything. I think I was 12 when I started acting, none of my current friends fully know me as a result of this, I keep losing people due to my inconsistencies.

A few points of me have stayed consistent; I’m not cishet-- truthfully I’m always in a state of questioning, my life has always looked like a dark room with a phone light being the only source, hospitals are places that I hate yet still find comfort in—they’re familiar, I hate being alone—at least alone without access to at least text someone, I prefer the cold weather—there’s less people walking so you don’t have to hide as much.

I find my emotions are something that come in waves, you get a tiny ripple, then suddenly thousands of waves come crashing down so hard it hurts as it hits against your skin, eventually they calm and there’s nothing at all. When the waves still, I wouldn’t even call it content, it’s simply a grey area between emotions, you feel something, but it’s not positive, negative, or neutral. When the waves are thundering on for what seems like an eternity, it becomes so overwhelming nothing shows, but you feel it; the suffocating of being thrown under the water with no mercy, you’re struggling to know its pointless so you begin to let yourself drown, only for you to suddenly gain the ability to breathe underwater, it’s the only way you’d ever cope with it.

I’ve become sick of sacrificing everything the moment people ask it of me. I’ve never been a caring person, the habits have just become deep routed in me, if you see a glimmer of genuine concern or trust from me, you know I really care. Sometimes I ask simply because you look upset and I don’t want the day to be dragged down as a result, other times, I want to make you feel better. The way my life has always worked was I was the caretaker, but I was not the kind of person who would clean your wound with such care and give you treats after. I think back to arguments sitting with my brother, trying to convince him to allow me to take out broken fragments of plastic out of his hand with tweezers, the concern over taking me all you may see was aggression at first glance, but those who know me know that is how I care – it’s cold, violent, and upsetting, yet I’ll still touch you with gentle hands dancing over the injury, touch so light you may not even feel it.

On some not rare occasions, I find myself disgusted to be banded in with people, not because I dislike people, I simply feel beneath them, an imposter with subtle cracks showing through a true nature. My emotions lead me in a world shrouded in logic, it was never suited for people like me. I am simply a by-product from a war between obligation and negligence.

━  S