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starshipsofstarlord · 3 months

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Modern!Nat Being Your Dealer

summary - natasha romanoff is your dealer, and you go to collect your order, however you seem to have forgotten something important… though there is another way that you can pay for your addiction (2.1k)

warnings - 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, drug dealing, sex in place of payment, swearing

natasha romanoff works other mcu works masterlist

Everyone struggled in life, and once in a while they needed a little help. There were many ways people went about that, some people went to therapy, others enjoyed a good book, others listened to waves that had been recorded for that specific purpose. But none of those spectacles of aid made you feel any better.

And thus you had turned to substances instead of white noise, specifically one that was more common and less harmful - weed. A large majority of the population did it, and it was nothing to be ashamed about, it just made you unwind from the trauma that skulked in the darkest parts of your mind and coaxed you into a resting state of sleep.

Unbuckling your seat belt, you climbed out of your beat convertible, locking the vehicle behind yourself as you strode towards the locked hinges of your e of dealer's door. It felt suspenseful every time that you came here, knowing that it could be your last if your supplier was overturned by the forces for her illegal actions actions, and you wouldn't exactly be ignored pu so for purchasing from her.

But everything looked crisp and normal, just the way you liked it. Quickly as to not avert any attention you shot Natalia, the Russian importer a text letting her know that you had arrived to the destination where she handled business. It felt like a lifetime as you awaited for her to open the door and usher you inside, and once she unlocked the barricade of privacy you felt like you were hit by a brick.

It didn't matter how many times that you had seen the astoundingly attractive redhead, you always felt as though you were experiencing whiplash from being greeted with her appearance. It was an unruly kind of magnetism that she styled herself with, her lipstick was blurred subtly past the lines of her actual lips, her short bob was twisted with curls that she had no doubt patiently toyed with as she sat there, looming behind the frosted windows for her buyers.

And you were no more than another one of them, you had to remind yourself, even as slithered past her, both of your breasts briefly brushing as she allowed you entry before she followed your footsteps to the main room after bolting the door shut to as it had been. As usual you took a seat in the dusty and quaint living area as usual, her taking place opposite you as she disgustedly brushed specks off the fabric arm of the chair.

"I don't live here if that's what you're wondering." She smirked, making it undoubtedly clear that her tastes were too clean to permanently reside in a place like this. "So I'll take it you're picking up the usual?" It was the safe assumption on her part, there was no kindness in coaxing you to spend more on the grams of freedom that she rationed out for a price. Not to mention, with spare product there would no doubt be another soul that was prepared to take it off her hands.

"Yeah, please." A curt nod had the woman lounging her body to stretch so that she could pick up the complimentary medicine that she had self prescribed you for. The normal amount was visible through the small and clear baggy that carried the goods, and you immediately rushed to find the notes that would allow you to proceed in your pockets. But they were gone. Shit. This was the last thing that you needed after the day that you had endured with the whispers of thought that clouded your brain.

Panic settled over you, and thus with a dry mouth it was with wise decision that you chose to speak up. There was no point beating around the bush, after all this was your first slip up when it came to this, and you prayed to every ethereal being that it would be the last. "I seemed to have forgotten to put the cash in this jacket, would it be okay if i were to come by later to collect again?" It was embarrassing really, there was nothing that screamed being newer to the scene of all this mutual transaction than forgetting the payment.

"Trial and error one would say." Nat slouched back, dropping the bag mockingly in her lap so that you could see. "The problem is I'm not available for business later." So stupid, you thought to yourself, insulting yourself because she wouldn't for your blatant and misconducted dumb foolery. It certainly may have ben a mistake, but you were no doubt paying for it because you could not pay for what you had really wanted. With a gulp of apologetic waver of disregard, you stood on your two feet, eyeing the door as your escape.

You were just about to begin walking when the red headed conductor silenced all movement your body was ready to perform. "Uh, uh, uh." The noise of scolding that she proclaimed towards you made your heart beat a little faster, afraid that she was going to refuse future service to you altogether. However much you dreaded what she was going to say, you politely listened, intending to remain on her good side. "If you have time to spare, I don't mind being paid in other ways..."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you mean." Maybe it was plain obliviousness to Nat's ultimatum of a suggestion, or perhaps you didn't quite believe your body's instinct to the prowess in her eyes that made your spine coil in a retrograde of quivering arousal, but you avertedly decided to play it dumb. She stood, and strode towards you like a vixen, her wide eyes scorning every inch of your vessel, humming contentedly to herself.

"Don't be so naive little y/n," her tongue peeked out from her mouth, swiping languidly across her plump bottom lip. "You'll still be a respectable woman, you'll just have to respect me too... in an intimate way." Thinking to yourself, the hunger that ran through your veins which yearned for the intoxicating compulsion of the confident redhead was strivingly eager, and the addictive stock that sold, was endless.

"W-what did you have in m-mind?" You wanted some clarification before you drowned yourself in an action that could exempt you from her clientele, even if she had been explicit, only leaving the details of prolific actions out from her spoken equation. The thumping of your heart beat within your ears, running through your bloodstream that was declining from a subsidised high, as you ogled curiously at the the woman with priceless leverage.

"We all have things we want y/n," she admitted vaguely before going into detail, "and I, in exchange want you to give me an orgasm." Her hands rubbed soothingly up your arms, her skin surprisingly cold upon your flesh. She could sense your nervousness, it was openly apparent as you shivered for both her touch and the calming rush that would absorb itself into your form.

"Okay." You spoke meekly, withholding how eager you were to persevere provocatively towards the mysterious woman. A coy smile weaved its route upon her defining features, causing your walls to flutter obscenely below where they were dressed. You'd always thought that you would be above soliciting yourself in exchange for anything, but it proved to show that you could never be certain on an agenda until you came to the crossroads of it.

Your tongue poked outside of your mouth, nervously grooming the indents and crevices at the corner of your lips, preparing yourself for what Natasha was expecting. It made you realise how little you truly knew about the woman before you, the name that she had given you to address her by may have all been a hoax, to conceal her identity from any enforcers whom bought the stronger stuff from ratting her out to the feds.

But in the predicament that you had stumbled obliviously into, you needed to be nothing more than acquainted, it wasn't love, it was just business derived from the figments of pleasure, and whilst you were allured by the pros and cons that weighed argumentatively in your mind, you couldn't help but give this instance a block from your overthinking mindset. "I'm glad to hear," she conveyed, causing a deep laughter within her chest to be released as she noticed how tense that you had become.

She liked to see you squirm, she had decided. And perhaps next time you would forget payment again, of course she wouldn't mind if your skills were up to her standards of course, and if they weren't, she would unshackle the bedroom nerves that you were enduring with her own set of amorous control. The air hung thick between the both of you as she strolled casually back towards the seat that she had already claimed prior to your arrival, sitting down and spreading her clothed legs wide.

"Come here, and make me cum." Her instructions were far too persuasive, and you couldn't refrain from doing as you were told, willingly you fell to your denim clad jeans, watching intently as Nat unbuttoned her own trousers. "I don't even need to tell you what to do." She verbally observed, pushing down the layers covering her bottom half, including her lace designed panties. Her actions served you with the view of her core, and the sight made you salivate.

A part of you felt dirty, but you procured it in an encouraging way, as this was exactly how she wanted to see you. The position that you were in made warmth flush between your legs, even more so when her drug dealing hand swept into your hair, pulling your face closer to her cunt with the harsh grip that she had. You glanced up to watch her lust drowning eyes, before you entangled your lips with her lower ones, tasting her juices on your tongue.

You ran your tongue up her slit a few times, testing the waters before you suctioned your lips around your clit, sucking on the nerve filled bud, her body being devoured by heavenly sensations. "Fuck me." Her breath cast the words out as her emerald irises became obliterated by the bleakness of her pupils, and in a way you were, and to fuck her further into the pleasure that was flooding her veins, you raised your dominant hand, tracing your fingers around her slick entrance.

With integral driven lust, you pushed one of your digits inside of her, her hand weaving tighter within your locks, and forcing your face further into her cunt. You were amidst in an overwhelming sense of reality, as you hollowed your cheeks so that you could put more pressure around her clit. Her mouth gaped open as she leant sporadically in her seat, her hips bucking into your jawline as her legs wrapped around the back of your head.

Pumping your fingers at a quicker pace, you could feel her walls contracting around you tighter, and her moans evoking to a higher pitch. Her sounds echoed around the room that was in need of more furniture, and you knew that she was getting close, and so you continued on with your actions, daring to enter another finger inside of her, which made her reach her breaking point. Her lips floundered in a silent scream, as she came around the fingers that you had stuffed inside of her.

You continued slowly with drawing out her orgasm, before you pulled back and allowed breath to be inhaled through your mouth, removing your fingers so that you had the opportunity to lick them clean. After a few minutes passed, she unravelled her legs from how they had been pressed around your skull, deciding to sit up straighter, as she glowered at you, returning to her formal confirmation.

Silently she slid her underwear and bottoms back up her legs, leaving her fly open as she watched you stand before her, almost desperately. She was almost convinced to return the favour, but that wasn't what it was, instead it was payment, and she had the professionalism to an extent to make that clear. "Pleasure doing business with you again. Here's what you wanted." She threw the baggy at you, and surprisingly to yourself, you had caught the clear packaging that was filled with your goods.

In all honesty you had forgotten all about the weed, you had fallen into a spiral of delightful passion, and you could still taste her on your lips. Now it felt awkward, she was awaiting for your departure without a doubt as she expectedly nodded towards the door. "Uh, thanks." You fumbled with the bag, finding yourself to forget your money again, with purpose, the next time that you visited her to collect.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff oneshot #nat x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader

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macgyvermedical · 8 months

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What’s your most controversial hospital opinion?

Hoo boy.

I'd have to say it's a tie.

First, I'd say that the medicalization of nursing practice was a mistake.

See, medicine and nursing are two different sciences. Medicine treats disease (for example, asthma). Nursing treats reaction to disease (for example, the difficulty breathing related to asthma).

While an RN (Registered Nurse) is technically an independent license (as in, we are able to do our own assessments, create and implement our own care plans without direct oversight or orders), we still can't prescribe. Now that's fine- I'm definitely not saying an RN should have prescriptive privilege.

Because we can't prescribe, though, we need someone with prescriptive privilege to order things like pain medication, nausea medication, bronchodilators, and other things that drugs might do better than available nursing-based alternatives.

The problem is that hospitals tend to require orders from a doctor for things that should be entirely under a nurse's purview. Things like q2hr turns for pressure injury prevention, fall prevention interventions, patient education, and other things that by law don't require a doctor's order, and for which doctors are not well trained. This tends to end with a subpar set of orders related to the nursing care of that patient, and nurses don't really have the freedom to override these orders (or the time to educate our medical counterparts on nursing care to get those orders changed).

Now, there are nurses who can prescribe- Nurse Practitioners (NP or DNP, depending on their highest degree).

So if I ran the nursing world, I would de-medicalize nursing care. There would be a nurse practitioner on each floor whose job it was to manage pain, nausea, discomfort, urinary retention, wound care, constipation, and other things that are reactions to disease that require drugs or other orders to manage. This would free up doctors to focus on things they were trained for, and allow nurses to do what they were trained for, and, hopefully, result in better outcomes for the patient.

Second, and this one probably is more controversial, I think the trend towards single-occupancy rooms in hospitals was a mistake.

Not, of course, because I feel like privacy shouldn't be a thing or that single rooms are too cushy, I just genuinely think the care would be better in a ward-style setup.

Here's the thing. When a patient is in a room alone, we can't see them and they can't see us. They don't know if we're actively taking care of someone else, and we have to go all the way into a room (and all the customer service that goes into going into a room) just to check if a catheter bag needs emptied or if SCD pumps are on, or if one of our many confused patients is trying to get out of bed.

This tends to result in situations where patients feel like they've been forgotten or aren't getting the best care we can give them. It also results in things like food or needed medications being left in patient rooms for a long time because we didn't see it dropped off, and patients who go hours without an SCD pump being on because we might only see them once every 2 hours (instead of a quick check every time we're on the way to another patient).

And finally, while this sounds ridiculous, the size of the hospital floors that are needed to house single-occupancy rooms are a drain on time when time is at an absolute premium.

See, picture you're doing a 12-hour shift and you have 6 patients. That's 2 hours of care per patient spread over 12 hours. That's not direct care, either. Order needs changed or clarified? That's 10 minutes gone. Charting? That's another 45 minutes. Pretty soon you get down to less than an hour to give meds, do all necessary assessments, treatments, clean ups, education, etc... Spread over 12 hours. That amounts to about 20 minutes in a patient room spread over every 4-hour period. Say it takes 30 seconds to get from one room to another. Say it takes more than a minute to walk from the med machine to the room. That time all adds up, and eats into those 20 precious minutes.

Versus if I could have all 6 of those patients laying in beds right in front of me, maybe with walls between them and the option of a curtain facing the hall for privacy, I could provide considerably more nursing care with the same amount of time.

#writing reference #hosptial life #nurblr #nursing

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drdemonprince · 1 year

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Regarding your “informed consent for all drugs” essay, I have a burning question I haven’t seen you address (if you have and I missed it, sorry!) What about things like antibiotics? IMO if you’re taking drugs that only affect you that’s one thing. I’m willing to give it consideration. But I honestly do think there should be some gatekeeping of community resources like abx, where use where it’s not warranted decreases the efficacy for the entire community. And I’ve heard way too many stories of people demanding abx for viral illnesses to expect that the general public will be informed enough to steward those resources wisely—a small number of people can genuinely ruin it for everybody, including very vulnerable people.

True

Informed

Consent !!!

Guided

Decision-Making

With the Help of a Doctor!

The leading cause of antibiotic overprescription is sloppy, overly 'efficient' work on the part of prescribers. I once went to an urgicare clinic with a months-long bout of laryngitis that I knew for a fact was caused by teaching 8 hours per day, not by a bacterial infection, yet the nurse practicioner prescribed me antibiotics anyway.

Because the clinic was trying to maximize profits and it was understaffed and each provider only had about fifteen minutes with each patient, if that. The provider didn't listen to me when I told him there was no way I had a bacterial infection, and he took absolutely no time to inform me about the effects of antibiotics and the massive risks of taking them when you don't need them.

Today, the average patient seeking healthcare is sorely ill informed about just about everything. Doctors disdain them for being self diagnosed on web MD and for seeking out information about their desired medications online, but what other options do they have? It takes weeks if not months to see a doctor sometimes, and they barely stop moving and interrogating you for one second to answer your questions or explain complex concepts to you once you get in their office.

Within this environment, is it any surprise that patients don't stick to their course of antibiotic treatments all the way through, hoard pills, take them for the wrong conditions, and request antibiotics when they don't need them? And considering that antibiotics are among the cheapest medications available, and most patients can't afford alternate treatments for other conditions on their own, is it any surprise they keep requesting these meds?

In order to move forward, we need a true informed consent model of accessing all drugs. Exactly like a dispensary for weed or Mexican-model pharmacy. You report to the pharmacist, explain your condition and what kind of help you are seeking, and an educated, patient, compassionate provider explains to you exactly the effects you can anticipate from the substances you are seeking -- as well as the risks and use cases.

If it were possible for people to access not only antibiotics in this fashion, but also weed, painkillers, tamiflu, and paxlovid, we would not have the scale of antibiotic overprescription and misuse that we see today.

People tend to glance over the "informed" part of the "informed consent" model that I am advancing, and that's really unfortunate. But I think it's understandable, because many of us have never experience actual informed consent basically any time in our lives. Imagine what it would be like to actually have the authority to make good decisions about what goes into your body, with a doctor seeing themselves as a support person for you, rather than an authority over you.

Imagine what it would be like to have a doctor who listens to you, who has time for you, who sits down with you and breaks down complicated topics and trusts you to make your own decisions once you've been educated and given their support.

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nicksbestie · 7 months

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hi lovie <3 you know i've been feeling really meh lately so maybe something with luke where he takes the day off to spend time in bed with the reader and make her feel loved and wanted? just really soft and cozy and warm vibes please. i can be more specific too if you want!

ily<33

word count : 1055

warnings : descriptions of depression and medication

enjoy!

Depression sucks.

There’s no other way to describe it. It’s a debilitating illness that causes so much pain over the course of your life, and for a lot of people, it’s incredibly difficult to handle, even with medication, therapy, and other forms of help. You knew first hand just how difficult it was, having been attempting to continue with life as normal as possible whilst managing it for years now. The only thing that kept you going during a lot of your bad days was the fact that you had a loving partner who always put his best effort into helping you feel better. Of course, with Luke’s job, he was normally very busy. But despite this, he always made sure that you didn’t feel alone, that he loved you, and that there wasn’t a place he’d rather be than with you.

Unfortunately, you had been having a bad night, and were not looking forward to when he inevitably had to leave for a writing session with the band in the morning. He wouldn’t be gone terribly long, but you just didn’t feel like you could function by yourself. However, even knowing that Luke cared so deeply about your well-being, you didn’t mention this to him, knowing how taxing his job could be, and how much he loved writing and creating music, especially with the band. It was his outlet, his do-it-yourself version of therapy, what kept him happy most days, and you didn’t want to take that away from him. The reasonable part of you knew that he would be happy to spend time with you and soothe your hurt, but the irrational part of you that told you that you would be bothering him won out, and you kept your mouth shut.

However, what you didn’t know was that Luke could read you like a book. He knew as soon as you comfortably laid down in his arms the previous night that you were struggling, and the second that you fell asleep, he sent off a text to the band’s group chat informing them that he wouldn’t be there the next day. He managed to slip out of bed an hour or two later, seeing as you had gotten too hot in his arms and adjusted a little bit away from him. He wasn’t intending to be nosy, but as he walked into the kitchen, seeing your medicine bottles on the counter, he noticed there were way too many in there to be halfway through a ninety-day supply. He decided to place it on the backburner for right now, knowing that taking them might definitely benefit you, but he also knew firsthand that once you got into a slump of not taking them, it was difficult to get back on track.

He personally had never liked being on medication, even for the smallest of things, because it made him feel like his happiness revolved around a drug. But even with this being said, he still dealt with it when he was prescribed them, knowing that they made his lifestyle easier on his mind. Getting something to drink before heading back to bed, he felt incredibly sad at the notion that because of his lfiestyle, you were probably feeling worse than you may have been normally, because he was gone so much more. He made a silent vow to himself that he would make as many changes as he could to be home more, and luckily his job was flexible even though it was so busy. There wasn’t much that he could do about tour, but he could try and reschedule writing sessions or do it over the phone from home as much as he could. Obviously there would be times he couldn’t, but he would still do everything he could to make it easier on the both of you and give you more quality time with him. He got back into bed with you, you still being absolutely knocked out, and fell asleep curled up next to you.

When you woke up the next morning, you were incredibly shocked to see Luke still there, as it was nearing 10:30, and he had told you that the writing session was due to start at ten. He was still comfortably asleep next to you, always a late sleeper, especially when he wasn’t on tour. He always used as much of that time as he could to catch up on sleep, attempting to get his schedule back on track. But, because you were under the impression he was late, you roughly shook him awake, feeling bad when he reached up to rub one eye. It took him a second or two to form a coherent sentence, yawning halfway through it.

“What’s- what is it?”

“You’re late! You were supposed to be at the studio nearly thirty minutes ago!”

He yawned again, checking the time before rolling back over and pulling you into his arms. Now it was your turn to be utterly confused, wondering why he wasn’t rushing considering Luke hated being late.

“You have to go! Why aren’t you getting up?”

He cracked a small smile at your concern, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Relax, love. I told them I wasn’t coming today. I know you need me here.”

You were always anxious about being a burden, and because of this, attempted to squirm out of his grasp.

“No, you need to go. I’m fine, I’ll be fine-”

He cut you off with another gentle kiss, this time to your lips.

“No, you’re not. I’m staying, end of story. We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m not leaving you when I know you’ve been struggling. You haven’t been taking your meds, which hasn’t been helping, and I know you need someone with you today. I’d rather be here, with you, than be at the studio, and I hope you believe me when I say that, because I have never meant anything more.”

It didn’t take long for you to break down in tears, some happy that he was staying, mostly sad because you were feeling badly. However, he stayed there with you the whole day, helping with every small task you didn’t feel strong enough to accomplish on your own, and you had never felt more loved.

#5sos fic #5sos fluff #5sos angst #5sos #5sos x reader #5sosfam #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings angst #boyfriend luke hemmings

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horce-divorce · 6 months

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Update for interested parties: the last few days were frought, the situation in Wisconsin was not what we had hoped it would be at all once we got here, and it ended up not working out. Too many people with not enough space and too many clashing needs. it ended up feeling very unsafe for everyone.

We're staying with a different friend instead now, and today their mom/owner of the property not only said we could stay here for the winter if we need to, but also was scheming to try and find us a pop-up trailer this morning which we were totally blown away by, she's wonderful. We still want the kind of mobility where we could take off again at a moments notice, so I'm sorting that out, but we're with friends and thankfully not in a rush to leave again anytime soon.

i'm not sure if a camper is what we'll end up with. It isn't quite as stealthy as i'd like (if we need to urban camp at all it doesnt really work), but it would certainly add a lot of space and be more than doable, and Bel really liked the idea. If that doesn't work out, I'll look at trading our current vehicle for a used camper van in a comparable price range. I've never done that before but I have time to do research.

Thanks to the donations this week, we were able to fill the tank and get Bels meds on the way out here, which was such a huge relief. That gives us at least another month to try to find a prescriber for another refill. We also got a great haul from the food pantry out here, which was fun because the lady we're staying with actually runs it and it's inside an abandoned building.

the pantry was already in the building when it wasn't abandoned. my friend's mom took it over and was allowed to keep it in its original space, but everyone else moved out. My friend had the keys, so they took us in thru the back and this series of totally unlit, crowded corridors with random appliances, furniture, books and clothes, all of it donated. it was one of the most surreal experiences I've ever had. I asked to go back to take more pictures, which is why the 2nd pic is lit better.

Their house is also really cool. It's an old farmhouse, much bigger, with fewer people here, and we have a proper room upstairs rather than in an unfinished basement. there's a super comfy bed in here, too. I actually haven't had back pain in the morning here, for the first time since my surgery in May!

Also, absolutely wild shit in the world of drugs: nary a weed dealer to be found in this area, because delta 8 has completely taken over the market. I was deeply unimpressed when I tried it a few years ago, but my friend got us a live resin hhc/cbd/cbg/thcp cartridge and........... I am stoned. Like PROPERLY stoned. I haven't been this properly stoned since like 2013. It does kinda give me a headache, but it also helps the pain and gives me munchies and helps me sleep just like real weed. I even remembered my dreams a bit better than with d9.

Anyway I'm very grateful for my queer community today, for my friends mom who has come to my rescue more times than my own mom, and for everyone who's been invested, sending us money, advice, locations to scope out, items, and links; everyone who's been reblogging; and even everyone who's just listening to us talk and post, watching quietly from the sidelines.

We still have to go retrieve the rest of our stuff from the last place (on Monday), and things always change in an instant. We still have a lot of complex feelings, and this week was especially hard for Bellamy. He's never been through all this before this year, and the 19th was the anniversary of his worst trauma, losing the only good and loving person in his life 6 years ago. To be kicked out specifically on that anniversary was brutal. it made me wish I'd never brought him here. I really thought we'd be better off with that friend than on our own for the winter, and I made a mistake.

But we will still be okay. For now, we aren't alone, we're with good friends in a safe place, we've got food and meds and gas. We even have another place to stay if we change our minds. We check in with each other and process our feelings multiple times per day. It's still hard to get used to coming and going all the time; we stay in one place just long enough to get comfy and then we take off again, which is never long enough form a routine. So we're trying to learn how to do that for ourselves, based on our own needs, rather than around the location. But we're getting used to that, and each other's habits. When I go out to the car for supplies it smells like home in there.

It's hard feeling like we don't belong anywhere, like strangers care more about our wellbeing than our actual families. My dad did give us the car, and six months of insurance. He even renewed my license for me. But neither of my parents checks in on me, asks where we are or how we're doing. My mom seems to be getting more reactionary in her old age; not only did my transition cause a rift between us, she's now doubling down on trying to "cure" my autistic cousin when she knows that for both of us (and for Bel), our autism is a source of pride. She knows my disabilities and neurodivergence are what started this housing instability 10 years ago. She knows my health has been worsening. She doesn't text or call. All of you following this story on here know more about how and where we are than she does.

But times like this show us who our real friends and family are, and it's not the people who've left us to our own devices out here. It's everyone who's been stepping in to ask, "How are you doing? Can I send you anything? Do you need to talk? I love you. I want you to make it." The random guy we met hiking who never told us his name but who told us, "I hope you guys thrive. I really do." It's everyone who's sent us another $10 for our supplies because I haven't spent long enough in one spot to get any work done. It's the people who have never even met us before who offered to take Bel's cats indefinitely, or to let us come stay with them across the country. It's everyone who's pitching together to buy us more time when we need it. Everyone who sees us and bears witness and feels something about it.

At the end of the day, we sort of are choosing this lifestyle; if we wanted out, we would have to stay in one place longer than winter, get jobs, save money, find our own housing. But we kind of don't. Despite the hardships, despite what this journey is revealing about ourselves and the people we thought we could trust, we feel like it suits us to live out of the car. We go where we want, when we want. We don't have to answer to anyone else's schedule. If we want to go south or west when it's cold and visit our friends, all we need is the gas money and the OK to come over. We love the woods and we love living out there. It feels distant and lonely sometimes, but so right. We like getting to bounce around and meet each other's people. We want to see the old growth and the redwoods and the mountains and the seaside and the grand canyon. We want to go to Cuba and Vietnam and Iceland and Denmark. Maybe our health won't allow for us to do absolutely everything we want, but working underpaid jobs and paying rent absolutely won't allow for it. We have a better chance at our dreams now. We can lose our place to stay again and be fine and just keep going; it's not the end of the world. It's what we planned on doing, anyway. No big deal.

Living in the car has already allowed us to do more and have more adventures in just 3 months than we did in 2 whole years of us both being housed. We do have a lot to process emotionally and there's a lot on our plates; it's hard, and we do need a lot of help. It's not always good. Not having access to the internet when we're running out of money and gas and food; not having anywhere to bathe; having to go long distances to collect water even when we're not feeling well; losing things because i put them in the wrong place and drove off; that doesn't even begin to scratch on converting the car for stealth camping, choosing our routes and places to scope for campsites in new areas, or trying to figure out which supplies would actually be more helpful and cost effective in the long run.

But it's still not really any worse than the rat race to stay employed and be good renters. It's just different. And after 10 years of housing instability, and waiting for something to change, it hasn't. I'm growing more and finding more peace by just leaning into it. Trauma and bullshit never ends. Life doesn't ever stop for you so you can think about what just happened; there's never gonna be a perfect, calm time for you to digest everything and then move on strengthened and changed for the next main event. You have to learn how to do all that and keep living no matter what bullshit is ongoing. That's what "rolling with the punches" means. The punches dont stop, you learn to expect them, you move with them. I cant put my life on hold just because I'm homeless. It's not stopping me from doing the things I want. It's not stopping me from being the kind of guy I aim to be, or from making the kinds of choices i want. My life before did that.

Tl;dr thank you for all your help and concern this week, we made it to a different space and are taking some time to breathe. We are feeling more than a bit bruised, this week has been awfully triggering, but we also feel very held right now and we have space to calm down. For another few days at least, it's gonna be okay.

✨️🛸✌️

#me #prsnl #car living #keeping reblogs on bc im putting this on our travel blog. just for reference #long post #do u like my delayed reaction selfie. rofl.#gpoy

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sonneillonv · 2 years

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and chrissie surely didn't tell him the real reason why she needed it. she probably told him she's stressed because of finals after springbreak so he didn't know the extent of her situation. he wouldn't have given it to her if he thought it could harm her. love your additions.

Thank you, Anon 💜

And no, she definitely didn't tell him the real reason or he wouldn't have been quite as shocked when Vecna's attack first started. 😅 She might have told him she's having really bad dreams, or maybe that she's been so anxious with a sense of impending doom that she can't focus on anything else. Maybe just that she 'feels scared all the time'. But my overall guess would be that he would have thought her problem was anxiety and/or depression, and Ketamine is actually very effective for treating depression!

A Ketamine high is characterized by disassociation and euphoria, which may be why Eddie thought it might help her - not only by lifting her mood, but also by giving her some distance from whatever was causing her such anxiety in her life so she could relax. A low dose, taken once, would have been really truly unlikely to cause her any harm or give her a bad experience, so the people saying that Eddie didn't give a shit about her safety are way off-base. As party drugs go, he picked a very safe one for her, and one that may actually have been able to help her had her problem NOT been, y'know, supernatural.

Mental health stigma being what it was in the 80's, I strongly doubt she would have gone into too much detail. But one of the things I love about Hellcheer, and that makes me love Eddie, is that after talking to him for literally five minutes Chrissy felt like she could trust him to help her without judging her. And I've said many times, and will continue to say, that I think Eddie being 'the local weed-and-occasional-pill-guy' and Eddie being a DM are actually two sides of the same moral precept for him, which is this: When your life is shit, escape is a kindness.

An escape can be a couple hours in a fantasy role-playing game where the goals are concrete and you can actually win. Or an escape can be a couple hours of a euphoric trip. An escape can be the stage high you get off playing heavy metal for an enthusiastic audience of five drunks. Eddie's whole character is built around the idea of 'escape' which is, incidentally, why his cowardice makes perfect sense - he runs from problems, he helps other people run from problems. The system has never helped him, so he works outside it. He sees someone like Chrissy, with the walls closing in around her, and he opens a window for her the only way he knows how. It's not greed or negligence, it's mercy.

Is it the absolute bestest, most ideal way for Chrissy to address her problems? Of course not. In a perfect world, her whole family would be in (free, competent, compassionate) therapy - and it's worth noting here that Chrissy DID try that. She was talking to a therapist, but I doubt the guidance counselor was licensed to prescribe and even if she was, that would have meant getting Chrissy's parents involved. Actually, it may even have been her recommendation that Chrissy see a doctor licensed to prescribe antidepressants that drove Chrissy to Eddie in the first place - if she knew she needed chemical help, but she couldn't tell her parents, that leaves her one obvious option.

What a lot of people in this fandom don't seem to realize is that we do not live in a perfect world. If you actually care about helping people and reducing the harm they suffer from their circumstances, you have to meet them where they are, and where they are is usually messy and imperfect and problematic and less-than-ideal. You have to square with the fact that people still deserve help when they make choices you don't like. If you judge them for using the only safe resources they had (or in Eddie's case, for offering the only safe resources people had), you're actually doing the opposite of good - you're contributing to a stigma that drives people away from seeking help through legal channels.

#stranger things #eddie munson #harm reduction

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ledenews · 1 year

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Trinity’s Dr. Srinivasan Prescribing Alternatives to Opioids for Pain Management

Just when no one thought it could get worse, it got worse because of Fentanyl. More than 98,000 Americans died in 2021 from drug overdoses, and that number established a new, and most unfortunate, record in the United States. The opioid epidemic has hit the 35-to-44-year age group the hardest, and the majority of those who have passed have been males, according to the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention. Fentanyl is believed to be the single deadliest drug threat in the nation today because the narcotic has slivered its way into our country’s largest cities the same way it’s devoured so many tiny towns. “We have seen more people are dying because they are using an opiate like heroin, but with a stimulant like Fentanyl added to it,” explained Dr. Suresh Srinivasan, an interventional pain medicine doctor at Trinity Health Systems in Steubenville. “We didn’t see that in the beginning of the opioid epidemic about 10 years ago, but the use of Fentanyl has spread so much that people need to realize what they are using when they decide to (service) their addiction. That combination is deadly, and people need to realize it. Many rehabilitation programs include exercising in a pool. “On the other hand, I’ve also seen Fentanyl being the only drug some people are using for their addiction, and that is a dangerous thing here. I’m not saying heroin is better, but straight heroin is not as deadly as Fentanyl,” he said. “No matter what, the only safe way to use any drug is when you are under a doctor’s care.” Srinivasan has practiced in Chicago, Brooklyn, and at the Creighton University Medical Center in Omaha, Neb., and now his office is located on Johnson Road in Steubenville. His biography on Trinity Health System’s web page states, “His goal is not only to reduce pain but restore functionality and help his patients to achieve their treatment goals.” “What I have learned from living here and caring for people here is that people work really hard and they always have, and they really enjoy themselves, too. That includes self-medicating,” Srinivasan said. “The tradition of working hard here started a long, long time from what I understand, and that included the steel making that took place here for a lot of years, and the coal mining, too. “I have treated a lot of people who have gotten themselves addicted to their pain medicines because of chronic pain they’ve had after many years of hard work, but there are many others who found themselves addicted because they decided to do some experimenting,” he explained. “Some of those have been kids who decided to explore with someone else’s prescriptions have been available. Once you get on that wheel, it’s very difficult to get off because your brain just keeps craving the dopamine.” For more than a decade, opiate abuse led to heroin and Fentanyl abuse. Toeing the Line Alcohol and marijuana. According to the CDC, those two substances are the most popular for people choosing to self-medicate. Alcohol is more popular with men than it is with women, but weed is equally popular with members no matter the gender. And, according to Dr. Srinivasan, self-medicating is a popular pastime in America. “I have had a lot of people who have told me they smoke weed to get sleep and relax, and they have told me that they drink a lot of alcohol to relieve their pain, and those two practices are very popular across the country,” Srinivasan said. “Most people have told me they do both at the same time because there is less of a chance to overdose on the alcohol. “One of the biggest problems with self-medicating is that you build up a tolerance to things like alcohol, and that means you need more and more to keep that pain away,” the pain management doctor said. “It’s also about the euphoria involved, and people build up a tolerance for that, too. Unfortunately, that’s where the opiates have come into play as a prescription for chronic pain, and in too many cases, it’s ended badly.” Marijuana, Srinivasan has recognized, is very popular with people who are self-medicating. Srinivasan has joined a plethora of his colleagues from across the country in examining new methods to help those suffering chronic pain by prescribing non-addictive medications and in many cases more physical therapy. “Collectively, we have made many changes because of the opioid abuse that has taken place over the past 10 or 15 years, and that’s OK with me. I’ve had patients who didn’t expect the changes and they’ve been upset because they wanted to remain on their on their medications,” the physician said. “But there have been some great changes that have had nothing to do with medication, and that’s because a lot physical therapy is capable of managing pain, too. “Some of the other options include what we call multiple pain management, and that’s when physical therapy is started at the beginning of the treatments,” Srinivasan added. “The science of pain management is an evolving specialty and it is getting better and better as time goes on. Now, we’re always searching for better ways to relieve the pain so our patients can live a better life.” Dr. Srinivasan’s practice philosophy is to blend medical innovation, evidence-based medicine and compassion to meet each patient’s individual goals. Dr. Srinivasan and his team cares for his patients as if they were his own family members, spends time with them to allow for a thorough evaluation and tailors the treatment plans that fit the unique needs of the patients. Read the full article

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animegirl89fan · 1 year

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So, on this page I would like to try my hand at a few smaller fanfictions. i also have a page on watpatt, but since i write my fanfiction there in german . I would like to use this forum for a few small ones in English.

since my english is good enough for normal everyday use, but not for writing stories, i use a translation program and hope it is understandable.

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Short description, Son goku has recently had to deal with his niece, who carries many a secret with her.

Warning : Emotional, Family, Heavy Youth, Drugs.

(I'm not a drug advocate, however marijuana helped my brother a lot until he finally had his important pain relieving surgery. So it was prescribed by the doctor)

Still waters run deep.

Yawning once, Son goku scratched the back of his head and opened the fridge to treat himself to a small midnight snack. He knew very well that there was still something left over from dinner. With relish he put the big piece of pizza in his mouth. Chichi had cooked a lot and there wouldn't have been any leftovers if Tony hadn't eaten so little. Far too little for a Saiyan for his taste. But he had to admit that it was probably because she neither trained nor fought. Songoku shook his head once. He couldn't quite make sense of the girl.

How amazed he was 3 weeks ago when his family received a call that a 16 year old girl was being admitted to a hospital on the other side of the world. Definitely with his DNA by blood bank. When he and Vegeta, followed by Piccolo, checked things out, everything had been quite clear. Her age matched the appearance of Raditz and she was definitely only half Saiyan. The youth welfare office was there. She'd been in a little accident on a school field trip, not too bad, a few scrapes, a few bruises. Of course the responsible teacher had dragged her to the hospital against every protest. Where by trying to reach the education authorities, it quickly came out that all the information, all the documents were forged and Tony had registered himself at the school. She completely refused to say where her parents were and who was taking care of her.

Without further ado, Son goku decided to take the young Damme in with him. He didn't want to let a Saiyan come into the youth center, although he was sure that she would make the bend there very quickly. He also wanted to know how it could be that they hadn't noticed for 16 years that there was another Saiyan on earth. How could it be that he hadn't even felt her aura and her fighting power. But as he had observed her then, she was quite weak compared to his sons or the other fighters.

Chichi was initially skeptical about the arrival of the new family member. But Tony had quickly turned out to be a very polite, intimate and helpful girl. Son Goku was quickly drawn to her sense of humor and her love for the earth. But when it came to her mother or the training, she completely refused by talking her way out of the situation. Vegeta drove her "lack of ambition" to insanity. Not only once did he accuse her of being the most pathetic Saiyan of all time and a huge shame. which apparently left her pretty cold. She replies relatively calmly “do we know each other? No ! So how did you get the crazy idea that I would be even remotely interested in what you think of me.” You don't have to be a clairvoyant to know that this was like adding fuel to the fire. Son goku had been busy for a good 20 minutes getting Vegeta under control again, while Piccolo brought the somewhat distraught Tony home.

His niece had grown very fond of him in that short time. Even if he did notice that she was carrying something. But what? slowly he strolled up the stairs to the attic. In which his friends helped him build a nice room for Tony. But when he quietly opened the door to check on her,

he found the room empty. The window was open. Now that he knew her aura, it didn't take Songoku long to locate her.

Loud laughter and music hit him from the big basement of an abandoned apartment building.

Tony saw it with some teenagers and adults in a corner and smoked. From a lecture Songohan had given him as practice for college, Songoku knew exactly what Tony and her friends were doing around the circle. “Antonya!” his voice drowned out the music. The young Saiyan choked and her eyes widened at the sight of him. "..We go now ! Come here now !”

his summons cut the situation sharply. Tony got up slowly and handed her glass of wine to her friends to walk over to him. On the one hand, her body wanted to refuse, all the alarm bells seemed to be ringing loudly in her. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn't make sense of her reaction to her uncle. no one had scared her like that before. She had never felt such authority before and inwardly she was aware that she now had to obey it.

When she was close enough, Songoku grabbed her right elbow and the next moment she found herself in a white and seemingly endless space. “Wow..where?….what?….where are we here!” she swallowed.

“In the space of mind and time. while an hour passes in the outside world, a year passes here. All so the perfect place so that we can clarify a few things!” replied Goku.

Son goku expected a counter-argument on her part, the vocabulary was usually her thing.

But to his satisfaction, this time she let it go. With benevolence he registered that although Tony didn't otherwise make any effort to even begin to challenge himself with the abilities of a Saiyan, she still felt that she was far inferior. Songoku was angry, disappointed and sad.

"You sneak out of the house at night to smoke this." disgusted, he threw a joint at her feet that he had picked up in the basement. Slowly hers came loosevoltage and she straightened up a bit. "I do that regularly and I'm fine,.....my grades are excellent, it doesn't have a negative impact on me." she tried to calm him down.

"If you really assumed your act was okay, you wouldn't have to sneak out, would you?".

caught and somewhat defiant, she let her head slide to the side. "look at me , I'm not done yet! or? " Son goku asked his niece and her head snapped back immediately.

"You numb yourself with these substances, that means you are not honest with yourself!"

With every word he said, he watched the young girl across from him closely. What he read on her face was a mixture of fear, sadness and... anger. He was aware that he had to push her further. "Why do you take that shit!"

" Mind your own business!" she hissed back .

He was on her in a second, grabbing her chin. "it is my business, you're part of my family now, I took you in with us, I'm worried about you.!"

With a small burst of energy, she slapped his hand away. "I've only been with you guys for a couple of weeks, how can you talk about family, why do you think you can judge what's good for me? " she snapped at him, her energy rising. Not remotely that Son Goku should have any worries. But he was slowly getting her where he wanted her. " I'm going home now !" She clarified and made her way towards a small house, which she found. But before she had gone even three steps, her feet were pulled away and she landed on the ground. " do you still have them all!" she yelled. but Son Goku remained unimpressed and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"As far as your stubbornness is concerned, you seem to be typical Saiyan......it's a pity you don't leave me any other choice...!"

"Of course it's your choice.... Shut the crap and let me out of here!"

"For you to keep lying to yourself, I will not allow you to keep lying to yourself."

He stood in her way once more.

“You have two options.

1. you tell me what's going on, why you think you need this stuff and you stop right now,

or...

2. you stay Stuhr, try to get out of this situation. I'll stop you, but then you'll have to fight me."

" lick me!" yelled Tony, trying to run past him, earning her a half-goat punch in the stomach. She straightened herself over and over again. It doesn't matter if she tries to get past Son Goku, sometimes punches or kicks him. He dodged, grabbed her leg and threw her away from the entrance again. A good 20 minutes passed and Tony was almost completely on the ground. "ahhhhhhhh this sucks, why can't you just leave me alone!" she yelled in frustration.

" You are angry!"

"Yes, I'm angry, I'm always angry! That's why I smoke it to control the anger. Not feeling it anymore." Slowly the anger subsided with this confession and she noticed Songoku's aura softening as well he looked cross-legged at her head. "I thought so....but just suppressing them won't do you any good in the long run...you have to let that anger out!"

"But then bad things happen, then I lose everyone I care about."Tony's voice grew quieter.

She had never voiced that fear before.

"When I was 4 years old, I was thrown out of the kindergarten because I beat up another child. He laughed at me because of my monkey tail. My mother was very angry,.... the people from the village didn't speak to me anymore. Nobody wanted to have anything to do with me." Songoku listened to her silently and attentively." When I turned 6, my mom went out with a friend at night.It was the first time I was home alone, it was the first time I stayed up that late....and the first time I saw the full moon.."

Both were silent for a while." ..when I awake , half the village was destroyed.My mother.....she and the villagers were hiding in caves in the mountains.When I found them, they were screaming in fear that I was a monster, abominable. I didn't know what had happened until you told me about the Saiyan and the Uzaro. I realized it......you should have seen the disgust in my mother's eyes......she put me in a children's home." Slowly Goku's hands placed on her shoulders and pulled her up to him as his arms pulled the girl into a tight hug.

“In nursery I met a girl who I became friends with , we became like sisters, when we were about 11 the boys wouldn't leave her alone, she cried and I lost control again. I almost beat the guys to pieces, after that she was scared of me…………….I fled onto the street and met a couple of guys who offered me marijuana, I quickly realized that I could forget the anger that way, but not them felt more. could have a normal life. ..when i get angry i lose everything. bad things happen!”

“These things didn't happen because you were angry. but because no one has shown you how to channel the anger. to handle her." Songoku felt a lump in his throat. He would have liked to have met her sooner. “ because nobody showed you who and what you are. But I will do that from now on. You just have to let me teach you...I'll show you how strong you are! I won't leave you alone anymore! "

#son goku #dragon ball z #saiyan

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oldmanbayou · 1 year

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Shy Cat Diary - 1 month

I'm sorry I've been trash at my shy cat documentation. He's now been with us for a month! He is still getting used to my spouse but he's chill around me and has fortunately gotten over his annoying Napoleon cat phase.

I did make one horribly wrong move though, and I will confess here so that others may learn from my oversights. About a week ago, I got some of those catnip laced paper bags. He's a catnip addict and I thought he'd have fun with it. Yeah, no. He didn't have fun. I left him for the night and by the next morning he had regressed back into a hidey cat who was afraid of everyone and everything and would hiss and spit at you if you dare peek at him hiding in his paper bag.

This here is exactly why I think advice to provide plenty of hiding spots for a shy cat is shit advice...

A space where they can go to feel safe: Absolutely fine. A space where they can *hide*: No.

So I promptly removed the paper bag.

He continued to be timid for the rest of the weekend. It is common for cats to start pulling their fur out or overgroom in response to recent stress or trauma, or because they're bored. Some people do this too -- in fact I'm one of them and have had this issue my whole life. Think hair pulling, skin picking, nail-biting, etc -- those mildly destructive behaviors we tend to shrug off as just being nervous habits. It's actually a fairly common though not well known type/relative of obsessive compulsive disorder (google "body-focused repetitive behavior" if you're curious). This dude is a fur puller. And he eats his fur. Which then makes him have bad hairballs, which makes him not feel well, which makes him not want to eat anything, which makes him feel even worse, which makes him feel vulnerable, which puts him back into scared cat mode.

The bag incident came at a particularly bad time because he hadn't been feeling well.

I have had several cats in the past who were fur pullers. Usually they get over it on their own once the stress passes, but sometimes it becomes a habit and they need to be brought to the vet for intervention. Unless there's some underlying medical condition to explain away the fur pulling, they will get prescribed antidepressants. At least in my experience, they don't need to take the medication for life -- just long enough to be broken of the habit, and then they're fine!

If not for fear of being pushed back about 30 steps if I dared bring this cat to the vet, I'd have brought him to the vet for his fur pulling weeks ago. Kitty antidepressants would do him a lot of good and probably would have made this whole transition to a new home a thousand times easier.

So anyway, on with the story -- Sick hairball-filled cat. I tried giving him some hairball medicine. There are several different kinds you can get over the counter at a pet store -- the ones that are a gel that come in a tube though are the kind that work. A lot of cats will just eat it without coaxing, but he won't. You can put it on their paw to entice them to lick it off and eat it, which is normally what I would have done, but he was acting so fearful of me there just wasn't any good way to go about it. I tried and failed miserably…So the next solution would be to mix it into their food. But...he wasn't eating...I opened so many different cans of food and he wouldn't touch anything.

Finally, as a last ditch effort, I resorted to something that I don't think I would necessarily recommend to others, but I'll admit here so you all know when things don't go as smoothly for you as it did for me (trust me, I've had my fair share of rocky moments), it's because I cheated. Illegal prescriptions. The one in question happens to be one that I know a lot about and happened to have on hand. Mirtazapine.

My now deceased cat, Moppet, in her late years was on mirtazapine as a maintanence drug as she had a chronic medical issue that caused her to have no appetite. My other cat, Tews, had also been prescribed it a few years ago when he was stressed out because we were moving. He made himself sick and stopped eating. And funny enough, I take mirtazapine as an antidepressant and was prescribed it because I don't respond to SSRIs and "lack of appetite" is a pretty pronounced symptom of depression and anxiety for me (if this describes you, Ask Your Doctor About Mirtazapine). Mirtazapine for humans is a decent enough antidepressant. The cat form of mirtazapine though is a WONDER DRUG. Makes them good and hungry, and calms them right down! (by calm, I mean turns them into an affectionate spaz) And the best part -- it now comes in a transdermal form, so you can just rub some on their ear lobe!

I am almost certain -- more than certain -- had I brought him to the vet, they would've stressed him out with a bunch of stupid bullshit first, insisted on an ultrasound to make sure he doesn't have a blockage or something else going on, and charge $1000 for it only to tell me exactly what I already know and had been trying to tell them -- "oh, guess he's just stressed and has some hairballs from obsessive grooming!" -- and then proceed to tell me about this great wonder drug for cats called mirtazapine. And then I'd bring him home and would need to find a pair of kevlar gloves if there's any chance in me rubbing anything on his ear in the next week.

Well anyway, fortunately I got to skip all that this time. I had some kitty mirtazapine leftover from Tews' incident. It was technically expired, which in the case of mirtazapine, the worst thing that might happen with an expired tube is it just won't do anything. I crossed my fingers and gave it a shot. And luckily, it worked miracles! The boy was back to himself in just a couple of hours, and was more than happy to eat food laced with hairball medicine. And that's all it took -- He recovered very fast and hasn't had any incidents since.

(Liability notice: If you take mirtazapine and think you can try this at home, it's a good sign you should take your cat to the vet. The dosage of kitty mirtazapine is completely different than the human variety of the same drug.)

He is still overgrooming sometimes, but he's definitely getting better and I have a feeling he will stop on his own eventually. I have continued lacing his food with hairball medicine every morning just for prevention, and will continue to do so until he kicks his fur eating habit. There's really only so much I can do about this behavior--He doesn't just do it when he's stressed, but he'll do it if he's bored or sometimes just for no apparent reason. When I catch him overgrooming, I try to distract him by playing with him and that usually does the trick for at least a little while. I have also discovered he enjoys music! Particularly harp music. And bird videos on youtube. I also try to brush him every day to reduce the amount of fur he can potentially eat but he’s one of those cats that insists on walking around, rubbing his face all over everything whenever he’s being groomed with a brush, so it’s tricky! If this overgrooming an ongoing habit of his that can't be fully broken, I will eventually take him to the vet for it and get him a proper prescription. But I just don't think inflicting that kind of trauma on him right now is in his best interest if there's any possibility of avoiding it.

#shy cat #overgrooming #shy cat diary #music for cats

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lovestohelp80 · 1 year

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My Own Healing

I lived in Sudbury for most of my life. In the outskirts as well as right in the city. I know that drug use and overdose is an issue everywhere and everyone likely knows or knows of someone who is or has struggled with the terrible disease that is addiction. Writing this has helped me heal from the passing of my older children's father. His life did not have to end the way it did, and I hope that someone reading this can heal a little.

In Sudbury, as well as in other communities, a lot of individuals who become addicted to drugs were first prescribed a drug (for pain, mental health, etc.), and their primary care practitioners either did not follow up or the individual went to multiple practitioners once addicted. I personally have seen the devastating effects this can have, not only on the individual and their families but on the whole community.

In Sudbury, there is a piece of property downtown that has white crosses erected in memory of those who were taken too soon due to addiction/overdose. There are over 200 crosses, over 100 from 2021 alone. I had friends and my older children had friends who have died from an overdose and their crosses are in that memorial. For 5 out of 6 of my friends, their addiction started with prescription pain medication, and the lack of follow-up afterward. Children are losing parents; parents are losing children. There is too much loss, and something has to be done.

A little over a month ago, I was in Sudbury with my husband and 2 younger children. I received a call from Greater Sudbury Police asking if I was related to (ex-husband). I said yes, he is the father of my older children and my ex-husband. They told me they needed to come to talk to me in person, so I waited for their arrival. They proceeded to tell me that my ex-husband was found by his roommate in his room, deceased. I was in shock. I knew he had previously been using crack, he had had a heart attack 3 years prior due to the drug use and alcohol consumption. I then received a phone call from the coroner, who indicated that an autopsy would be done, but he had been found with a crack pipe in his hand and drug paraphernalia around him. Once again, I cried for the sadness that this was going to bring my children. I went to clean out his room, and there I also found more paraphernalia from his drug use. My ex-husband has always liked his alcohol, and he was always a tobacco smoker but had never used hard drugs until 5 years ago when he met his former girlfriend. She was a heavy drug user, and, after a few months of dating, he began to use as well. He spiraled pretty quickly and, consequently, after a night of partying, suffered his heart attack. He was told to quit using and he did well for a little while, but his life wasn’t what he wanted it to be, and he started using again.

This situation is not unique in Sudbury, or many other communities across Canada. Sudbury had the highest opioid death rate in Ontario in 2021. The city, after months of delays, opened its new supervised drug consumption site in an effort to curb overdose deaths. This site will be a place where people can safely consume their own drugs while being in the presence of trained staff in a non-judgemental place. They are also provided with safe equipment, can access medical care, and can get referrals to other social and health services. It is centrally located, so it is easy to access for anyone. The health unit and other organizations have been advocating for a long time for this safe consumption site. They believe that it will reduce the overdose rate, reduce the amount of public drug use, reduce the amount of paraphernalia found in public places (parks, alleyways, malls), and help educate drug users and maybe get them sober. I feel like more could be done to curb this epidemic of drug use and overdose.

Currently, there are services that can be accessed, but only after months or years on a waitlist, and by then, usually it is too late. There are very few rehabilitation centers. I know this firsthand as my own daughter had to go to Toronto to receive the services that should have been available to her in her own community. Having services in one’s hometown will allow one to be around the people in their lives who can offer the most support, such as family and friends. I would also advocate for more funding to hire more trained social workers and social service workers to alleviate the waiting list for services. As mentioned, waiting months to years for help when battling addiction is unacceptable. By the time many of these people have their names called upon, they are gone.

#addiction #white crosses #drug abuse #overdose awareness

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god-whispers · 2 years

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may 26

grief from the tragedy the other day still lingers in our hearts and it will for some time to come. already i can hear the cry of many. "where was God in this situation?" it is a question frequently asked when bad things occur. i think God was watching, perhaps with pain and tears, at what His prize creation has sunk to.

"my people are destroyed for lack of knowledge. because you have rejected knowledge, I also will reject you from being priest for Me; because you have forgotten the law of your God, I also will forget your children." hos 4:6

has God forgotten our children? not if He is the God we love and worship. but perhaps He has thought His treasures would be better off with Him than with us. even now there are laws proposed in many states that allow a baby to be killed up to twenty eight days after birth. states like maryland, colorado and of course, california. i know not how many others. at what point is life considered "viable" and to have rights? can ending life for the elderly and sickly be far behind? they too are defenseless.

the same people calling this act horrific (which it was) are caught asking where God was. maybe the question that should be asked is: "why have people allowed this situation occurred? have they brought it upon themselves?

"whatever a man sows, that he will also reap." gal 6:7 these seeds were planted years ago. they have not sprouted suddenly overnight. marriage is no longer essential. God's standard of one man and one woman is antiquated. drugs are rampant, prescribed and otherwise. gender has become "fluid". morals and morality are a thing of the past. if it feels good, do it.

"they sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind." hos 8:7 we suffer now because of mistakes made in the past; things we have not only excused but demanded acceptance of, even approval. in times like these, the innocent suffer along with the guilty. sin, lawlessness and evil walk their paths, wounding those standing in their way.

well i remember growing up in my youth. all were certainly not christians, but moral behavior was expected and shown by most. scarcity of the word of God was not to be found. certainly there were acts of evil but they were mostly suppressed by Godly beliefs and actions.

then rebellion slowly crept in and the church let down it's guard. our bibles began to gathered dust. time spent in prayer could be used elsewhere. we have laid down the weapons of our warfare by considering them obsolete or "passed away". we often find it more needed to war within the body over doctrines and beliefs when none of us have all the truth. the tares growing alongside the wheat have multiplied also.

we know "these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet". matt 24:6 i can hear the Holy Spirit now, calling those who will, to gear up for battle. we are in His charge. 'i also am a man under authority, having soldiers under me. and i say to this one, 'go,' and he goes; and to another, ‘come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, 'do this,' and he does it.'" matt 8:9 do you know how to take orders or only how to give them?

"your people shall be volunteers in the day of Your power". 110:3 psa even as caleb made the good confession to moses, let us now make a profession to our God. "let us go up at once and take possession, for we are well able to overcome". num 13:30 not able in our own strength, but able in the name of the Lord Jesus.

"all authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth." matt 28:18 we are in a battle - not against flesh and blood but against the spirits controlling them. "they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death." rev 12:11

lawlessness and persecution is already here. the darkness grows darker. we must be fully committed ard willing to give our all. there will be casualties but we were born "for such a time as this". est 4:14 "the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds." 2 cor 10:4 we go forth in His name; the name above all names; the name of Jesus!

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honeyhenry · 3 years

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Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause I think i’d remember a face like yours”

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement.

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.”

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him.

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit.

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-”

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie @michelehansel @la-cey @palaiasaurus64 @sassy-pelican @brandycranby

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feedback / ask me a question here!!

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #dad!syverson #dad!sy #cavillary #my writing #syverson x reader

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miss-vortex · 3 years

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Mental Health and Los Angeles' Homelessness Crisis: Why "Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel" Is One of the Most Important Documentaries on Netflix

The series observes the devastating impact of mental illness and the stigma surrounding it and teaches us that the dire problem of homelessness in the city of Los Angeles is only getting worse

SPOILER ALERT: It may be best to only read on if you have already watched the documentary series.

"Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel" is not about a cursed hotel. This documentary series is so much more than that and I personally believe that it is one of the most important documentaries to air on Netflix. So many current issues are covered that are generally brushed under the carpet and left to rot and this is one of the reasons why it must be watched.

Elisa Lam believed that experiencing Los Angeles would change her life for the better. She wanted to discover "La La Land". Instead, what she discovered was not the glamorous city she had in mind - staying only a few streets away from Skid Row in a hotel infamous for its tragic history, riddled with stories of death, drug abuse and serial killer lodgings, Elisa was faced with a gruesome reality - that reality is Los Angeles's gaping wealth divide which is only widening as time goes on.

Elisa's dreamy expectations of LA being heavily dampened by the poverty she found herself in would have no doubt contributed to her worsening mental state during her stay at the Cecil Hotel. Los Angeles is often depicted as the city where people go to find themselves - after all, it's Hollywood's home - but the reality is that the city has many more dimensions that are not represented on holiday websites or tourist leaflets.

I have seen for myself only a fraction of the poverty which adorns the streets of LA when I visited in 2019 and what I saw was shocking enough. People are living in tents only streets away from where millionaires sleep comfortably in their high-rise apartments and mansions. A taxi driver told me "The council are building more apartments in downtown LA but it's only for the wealthy. They won't do anything about the problem of homelessness."

This is brought to light in the documentary also and it is clearly highlighted how much the homeless have been forgotten about in the city - for 100 years they have been shoved aside to make space for rich newcomers. Last year it was estimated that there are about 66,433 people living on the streets in Los Angeles and this increased by 12.7% between 2019 and 2020. The main cause of homelessness in the city is too many underpaid jobs and lack of affordable housing.

The fact that Elisa ended up losing her life in a place where she was looking to escape from her troubles is truly heartbreaking. She was incredibly bright, but severely mentally ill, and I believe that parallels can be drawn between Elisa's condition and the way in which the impoverished are treated in LA. Elisa was the victim of bipolar disorder, a mental illness which is heavily stigmatised like many other mental health conditions. Some people might speculate that Elisa should have been more responsible and taken her medication as it had been prescribed to her - and whilst I agree that we all have a responsibility for our own self care, there can be many reasons why people don't take their medication. These can include the stigma behind being prescribed medication for a mental illness and not wanting to become dependent on medication. In Elisa's case, the fact she strongly believed going to Los Angeles would help her find herself may have made her feel as if she wouldn't need her medication once she got to the City of Angels - she'd be okay without it.

But as the documentary demonstrated, the symptoms of bipolar disorder can become so severe that they cause people to do things that are completely out of character and even lead to a person's death. This is why mental illness needs to be better understood and why Elisa could have had more help - her sister mentioned she had had severe psychotic episodes at home previously, so why didn't her family make sure she was 100% safe and well before she travelled alone? It would be wrong lay the blame on her family though - Elisa was an adult after all and they had to let her travel if she wanted to.

The problem of homelessness in LA suffers the same stigma as Elisa's illness in a society where the elite are catered to and the poor are simply pushed aside. A Los Angeles Times analysis conducted in 2019 discovered that 67% of people living on the streets suffer from a mental illness or substance abuse disorder - a direct result of the city's lack of social care for its poorer residents. Just like those living on Skid Row, Elisa felt rejected by society, misunderstood. Her worsening mental health was a product of the same system which has left millions of Americans deprived - a system which belongs to the billionaire class, a system which wants to maintain a spectacular image at all costs, a system which doesn't want to talk about mental health issues.

The Cecil Hotel, too, is a product of its environment. It is not a cursed place in the paranormal sense - it is cursed in the fact that lives have been needlessly lost there through the lack of resources and funding that are contributed to Skid Row. Although the Cecil Hotel has provided many with shelter, tragedies are bound to happen when people are not given the help they need to battle drug addiction, mental illness and crime involvement. The lack of security at the hotel was also shocking to begin with.

These are the reasons why "Crime Scene: Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel" is so desperately relevant in today's society. With the pandemic taking hold of the world, more people than ever before are grappling with mental health issues and the wealth gap continues to increase worldwide. There will be more deaths like Elisa's if we don't start to talk about mental health and more people will resort to living on the streets if we continue to value wealth over human lives.

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todoscript · 4 years

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𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬

@grow-a-smile-for-a-while requested: i request 7 fluff + 10 angst please? With either Bakugou or Shinsou. (With 10 angst being them worried about the readers mental health) Thank you so much love ur writing!!1! 💗💗

anonymous requested: 7 fluff soulmate au for shinsou please!! Love your work 💛

prompt for milestone event: “I think you might be my soulmate.” + “I’m worried about you.” genre: soulmate au. angst with a bit of fluff. pairing: shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader word count: 3.1k+ warnings: implications of mental health issues.

author’s note: I combined the two requests since they both share the same prompt! This is actually my first time writing a soulmate au so I hope it’s alright. Special thank you to my lovely beta readers @tamasoft & @etegomanere!

Throughout his entire life, Shinsou has only ever known the colors white, black, and gray.

They’re colors that prevent him from fully embracing the world as he walks through life each day peering through muddy lenses. Some say beyond the glass that obscures them all lies a realm painted in beautiful hues, teeming with an euphoria of colors outside the monochrome of perpetual black and white.

If such a paradise exists, Shinsou has yet to see or meet anyone that has ever set foot in that world. In fact, he honestly doubts such a thing is real, and has long adapted into his endless days stuck between the grays filtering through his vision.

However, today, he experiences something entirely new.

Today, he sees the color red.

It starts early in the morning, from the very moment he lifts himself up from his bed at the white sunlight trickling into his dorm room. There, with unlidded eyes, he glimpses into a vibrant, spontaneous pigment that lines itself on the outside.

Shinsou blinks twice, squinting, unsure if the grisly stain invading his vision is really there. But after consecutively rubbing his eyes in an attempt to brush it away, he groans when the angry color has yet to leave. The crimson that surrounds him is very much real.

With an average person, they’d be ecstatic, absolutely joyful at the change happening before—no, within their very eyes. What they’re seeing now is only a step forward toward that rumored world of infinite hues—a whole artist’s palette of colors waiting for them. Sadly, that isn’t the case for Shinsou as he realizes he’ll have to go about his day lugging such… severity surrounding him.

The extremity of the hue that covers the corner of his sight reminds him of fires setting ablaze in the thick of a forest. It hurts to look at, hurts to stride through his day with such an intense color following his every move like it’s tormenting him. If this is what the other colors are like, he’d rather keep to his monochromatic existence, please. Just even looking up and darting his head around is enough to give him a headache.

“Whoa, my man Shinsou, you okay?” Shinsou’s classmate, Kaminari, asks him while the upbeat boy takes his seat to his right, noticing the grim expression on his classmate’s face that likely isn’t due to any lack of sleep this time, considering its austerity.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” Shinsou assures, managing to suppress the extra strain leaking out when he turns his head. With the red intensifying at his movements, he wills himself just to look straight ahead for now. That’s all he needs to get through the school day anyway—directing his eyes to the front of the classroom where their homeroom teacher, Aizawa, enters to give them the news for the day. And yet, he can’t help but allow himself drift to your empty desk lying to his left, located one seat down the column from his.

He grumbles. That makes it three days now—three days since you last attended class.

Shinsou knows you haven’t been going to class because you “weren’t feeling well”—the answer you gave him when he approached you last night as you were walking down the hallway to your room.

He knew something was wrong. Your demeanor in that moment felt off, it was strange and unlike you.

You were rubbing your hands up and down your skin, acting like just being in his presence was nerve-wracking, and you never once met his eyes during the conversation. No matter how often he craned his head to see you, you made a point to turn away each time. And much to Shinsou’s concern, he also caught onto the heavy bags afflicted beneath your eyes. You looked like you haven’t had much of an ounce of sleep, despite taking time off from classes to recover. It only seemed that you were only getting worse at that point, and he grew worried every second in front of you.

But before Shinsou could pry further, you hastily ended the exchange with a sputtered good night and retreated back to your dorm room, slamming the door shut as if to reinforce a barrier that would keep him away. The next thing he knew, he headed to sleep, and woke up seeing the color red.

Staring at the vacant desk instills something in him that makes the red glow brighter, consuming more of his grayscale almost angrily. He winces as the throb courses through his head with growing intensity.

“Shinsou, you alright?”

Aizawa directs his concern toward him in the middle of his lecture when he notices Shinsou shrink in his seat at the pain. From the very moment he turns to answer his teacher, the pulses bleeding into his head subside, and the fiery hues return to a tamer tinge.

He answers Aizawa with a small nod, though it isn’t enough to dispel the teacher’s doubt right away. Aizawa, in turn, raises a brow, discreetly gauging his student’s condition. Luckily for Shinsou, it isn’t long until he brushes it off and resumes the lecture, gathering the students’ attention again, aside from the boy on Shinsou’s right.

Kaminari flattens his hand next to his mouth, words coming out in a whisper only audible enough for his friend to hear, “Dude, I don’t think you’re okay… You looked like you were going through some severe migraine when I got into the classroom.”

“I told you, it’s nothing, okay?” Shinsou replies, not diverting his eyes from the front of the room and putting Kaminari’s concern to rest for now as he shrugs in return.

However, his words aren’t enough to impede his headaches from coming back during the day. They grow more potent than ever as the crimson ignites across his vision.

What the hell is going on? Shinsou questions at this point when Midnight, their instructor for today’s hero course, advises him to head to the nurse’s office after he stumbles across the training field one too many times to be healthy for him. Begrudgingly following her order, he lugs himself to Recovery Girl’s office, who advises him to have a seat before she assesses his condition.

“So, you’ve been having headaches, have you?” the old woman asks, voice coming out like sandpaper while she scans across a page on her clipboard. “Tell me, when did they start?”

Shinsou rubs the back of his neck. “Just this morning, when I woke up,” he answers, “and they’ve only been getting worse.” He leans forward on his elbows settled atop his thighs, grumbling under his breath over the mess of his day so far. The red surrounding him swells relentlessly in waves. He narrows his brows tightly at the vermillion adjoining his hands, delving into the crevices of his palms as they pulse like a heartbeat.

Recovery Girl hums between those thin, balmy lips of hers, gloved finger beneath her chin before she decides to hop off her seat and head toward the cabinets.

“Well, this isn’t a wound or physical injury of some sort, so I can’t use my quirk to heal you. However, I can prescribe you a drug used to relieve migraines if that’s fine.”

He nods and Recovery Girl rummages through the shelves and pulls out a transparent container. With her small steps slowly approaching toward him, Shinsou gets up to meet her in the middle, hand held out to retrieve the medicine.

“I also suggest you head back to your dorm for now and rest up. You’re in no condition to train at the moment.”

“Right, thanks,” Shinsou says, burying the container in the pocket of his pants. He gets up from his seat, steps proceeding to the exit of her office. When he makes it to the doorway, a thought finds its way at the forefront of his mind, and he pauses for a minuscule moment.

“Recovery Girl,” he decides to call out, head tilted in the small woman’s direction.

“Yes?”

“Has Y/n been seeing you recently? About her… unwellness?” He words carefully, unsure of how to put your condition to light when he was still kept in the dark from you.

Recovery Girl shows her confusion between the small, wrinkled features on her face. She shakes her head. “No, I haven’t heard or seen much of her recently. Why? Is something wrong?”

Shinsou’s lips purse together, an uneasy feeling creeping on him that the stain on his vision reacts to instantly. He feigns a stoic expression over the backlash not to worry the lady, his right hand clutching over the shape formed on his pocket from the container underneath.

“It’s fine. I’ll check on her when I get back to the dorms,” he tells her, and the old lady simply blinks, her aged, dull senses unaware.

“Very well. Make sure to get your rest and take your painkillers, alright?”

“Yeah, I know.”

With that, Shinsou makes his leave. Unusual to him, however, his steps begin to pick up for some reason at every stride down the hallways of the building. He’s not sure where this urgency is coming from, but he can’t find it within himself to stop moving, and in fact, quickens his pace until he’s making his way back to the Heights Alliance dormitories.

The gray in his eyes is now gone. Red is what consumes his sight, vividly turning every shade around him into crimson. Whatever crosses his path bleeds and quivers in jagged red edges, from wooden floorboards to the sunlight filtering through the windows. He’s not sure what this could mean, but the one thing Shinsou is certain about is that something is wrong. And he needs to go to you.

True to his word, the first thing he does is jab the button on the elevator to the building’s highest floor, walking out after his ascent with eyes aimed at your dorm room. What comes next is three firm knocks against the wood of your door, making a point to let his presence be known on the off chance you can’t hear him.

“Y/n?” he voices, your name echoing in the empty expanse of the hallway on his side, “It’s me, Shinsou. Please open up. I just want to check on you.”

There’s approximately three seconds of pause before Shinsou leans into the door, ear pressing against it to catch any sign of movements on the other side. He hears a rustle or two until it’s replaced by the padding of feet on the floor. Standing back, he prepares for the door to open as the golden doorknob rattles into a turn.

“Shinsou,” you greet quietly with the entrance’s slow swing, where he sees you peer at him from a crack between the door. Your tired eyes find him, and he immediately notes the bagginess still persisting underneath. They give his own dark eye bags a run for their money.

Though his edginess remains, the red dissipates back into grays, blacks, and whites. His head is now absent of those headaches that plagued him as he gazes through those muddy, monochromatic lenses again.

“What are you doing here? Isn’t class going on right now?”

“It is, but I was sent back,” Shinsou tells you, eyes never leaving yours as he observes you attentively. “wasn’t feeling well.”

You cross your arms on your chest, looking down while you squeeze a bit of your skin to busy your hands. There’s a significant silence between you two that Shinsou wishes didn’t drag on for so long. Before he can come up with anything to resolve the tension, you’re already a step ahead, beating him in breaking the silence.

“Well… if that’s all then I’m going to head back to my room,” you say. Your hand clutches the doorknob to pull it back in, but Shinsou’s quick to act.

“No, wait—!”

He braces his foot between the gap just in time to stop the door’s movement, the hinges creaking due to the sudden halt. Staring at him, you’re dazed by his actions as he pries the crack open further.

“Y/n, I know there’s something wrong,” he states, hoping his usual keen intuition is enough for you not question this. He doubts you’d believe him if he ever told you the very color red led him to this moment.

You deny his claims, fingers firm on the knob. “I told you yesterday that it was nothing.”

“No. You’re not alright, Y/n.” His calloused hands cup your face, tilting up to guide you to his eyes—eyes that appear just as gray to you as they are to him. You stare into them, unable to reply at how unyielding he is toward your condition.

Despite the homologous grayscale of colors, Shinsou can see it all. He sees the stress carried in your eyes, down to the tension in your face that tires from feigning smiles every day. He knows you’re hurting just keeping up the withering cracks of your fortitude. Yet you can’t stop yourself from picking up your porcelain again, trying to mend them with the cruddy glue that is your mentality. If you continue this, you’d surely fall apart into too many pieces to put back together.

“Please, talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

You have no idea how much those words have an effect on you. Not until you’re suddenly weeping in front of him, tears spilling down your eyes as your throat begins to sunder into sobs. All he can do is offer you the solace of his warm embrace as he tugs your arm so your form is drawn into his body. He feels the tears prickle into his shirt, wetness seeping into his skin, but he doesn’t care. Shinsou holds you in his arms and pats against your hair gently, treating you like you are delicate earthenware bound to break as you tremble.

“I-I’m just s-so tired, and stressed, and I-I don’t know w-what to do s-s-sometimes,” you sob between words, voice muffled into his chest. Shinsou hushes you softly, unwavering in warmth.

“It’s okay. I know. You can let it all out, I’m here for you,” he assures firmly. The two of you stay there in that position for some time, your cries isolated in the empty expanse of the hallway with the dormitory vacant except for yourselves. When they begin to die down, Shinsou perceives his vision changing again.

This time, what greets him is a muted blue. The shade is not far off from the steely grays he’s accustomed to, but distinguishable enough for him to notice the change. It’s a sad color that reminds him of tears and lonely clouds.

Shinsou glimpses down at you, your body finally still against him, yet he can tell your aches are far from healed.

You sniffle, backing away when you realize you’re still nuzzled into his chest, now stained with damp patches on his white button-up. He gives you your space, smoothing the strands of your hair one last time before he parts. Though he makes an effort to hold your hand as your other rubs the hot wetness away from your puffy eyes.

“You… alright?” he asks, lightly squeezing your fingertips. You don’t give him much, just a slow, descending nod that is enough for him to continue gingerly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your initial hesitance almost makes him retract his question, afraid that he may have poked further than was comfortable, but you mitigate that thought with another nod, allowing him inside your dorm room.

When your door clicks to a close, you lean against it and watch as the taller boy stands aimlessly in the middle of the room.

“Shinsou?” you call, and he perks up.

“Yeah?”

“How did you know... what was going on?” you ask, voice drawing out across your room quietly.

For once, Shinsou doesn’t have an answer. He stands there, silent, unable to approach your question with a clear response. But there’s a lingering voice in his head telling him that he knows what led him to you deep down.

The colors.

He realizes the red enveloping his vision this entire time was connected to you. From waking up, glimpsing at your desk, to mentioning any thought of you, the color only ever intensified. And it calmed down at the very moment you opened your door, turning blue from your sadness washing in waves before him.

Shinsou draws in a breath of air. He’s not sure how to relay this notion in any other way than the words that cross his mind.

I think you might be my soulmate.

His heart suddenly flutters at the mere inkling of the words spoken in his head. It sounds almost far-fetched, reminding him of romantic fairy tales narrated in storybooks. Still, he can’t conjure any other resolution than this—can’t find any explanation for these connections of colors that bind your consciousness to him.

A small, inner part in him desires to blurt this out to you, let it be known of the fate stringing your pinkies together through the pigments painted on his canvas. But staring back into your swollen, tired eyes, he knows he can’t do that right now. What you need is for him to be by your side and help you recollect your thoughts. Learning about the possibility that you’re his soulmate is likely the last thing you want to hear in your condition.

He shakes his head, brows knitting together. “I’m not entirely sure about it myself,” he starts warily, coming closer to reach out for your hand again, “but all I know is that whatever happened led me here to you. Told me when you were at your weakest.” Shinsou twines your fingers together, lightly pulling you away from the door and toward the middle of the room. “And that was enough for me to come.”

When the comforting words depart his mouth, he swears that in an infinitesimal moment, those grays of his canvas spatter with droplets of color as he gazes down at you with only compassion in his eyes. That his black and white world transforms into that rumored paradise of beautiful hues for just a second until in the next blink, they’re gone.

He doesn’t know what to make of it, but it’s sufficient for him that whenever he glimmers into your eyes, colors are lying in wake underneath the monochrome. So he clutches your hand in his, allowing you to spill your thoughts out to relieve them off your shoulders as he hopes that one day, you and him can walk in tandem together into the color.

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