#Health Scheme

[healthsinfos]

Take a look at this post… 'स्वतःच बनवा आपले व आपल्या परिवाराचे 5 लाखांचे आयुष्यमान कार्ड!'.

http://healthsinfos.blogspot.com/2023/09/5.html

[canisalbus]

He’s so fun to draw!

.

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Leverage 3x2 - "The Reunion Job"

[louroth]

Forget the IF, just wanted to check in and see if YOU were okay dear author? I hope everything is well. I know you have a process lol, but I miss seeing you on my TL from time to time.

oh, kjsdhfjskdf . how sweet<3 thank you for this! I am doing well, crafting ouro alongside some personal shifts and growth and setbacks and victories. it has been a godsend to take all this pressure off for this period and do things my way. though, I'll say: while it has taken and will probably take another while, this silence will be broken at some point. I'll avoid saying soon only because I'm staunchly sticking to my pace&process. however !! I finished the draft for the first book yesterday. !! I am currently doing some hefty edits, collecting art and testing coding (&learning something new a hundred times over, over, again, whether it be storycrafting, interactivity, ui design, social media, art, code ... the list goes on) and so for the most part, I'm having a good time, as long as we count the entire spectrum of the human condition as a mostly good time. pfft.

I miss hanging out here too! I genuinely can't wait to get back to online shenanigans once I feel ready for it; if you'll have me, of course. I can imagine that this type of secret development is frustrating and everyone has their limit. It means a lot that you sent this my way. Hope you're doing well too. <3

[unwillingtoreachout]

So there's this manga called Goth and one of the twists at the end ***spoiler*** is that the main fl was impersonating her twin sister who died when they were younger (so everyone thinks that the sister is the one who's alive and the fl is the one who passed away)

...Anyway, so I was thinking, how can I make this about the twinyards? And wouldn't it be really fucked up if Andrew - who was pretending to be Aaron - died in the car crash along with Tilda and Aaron just never stopped impersonating Andrew after?

Like what if all of the canon Andrew knowledge we have (sans his foster care era) are all actually Aaron traits? What if Aaron switched to being a goalkeeper? What if Aaron never grew any kind of resentment towards Andrew and the one memory of him he keeps coming back to is the promise he made to protect him and that's why he's so quick to make a similar promise to Kevin and Neil? What if Renee's past reminded him of Andrew and that's why he took her knives and held onto them like they're the last part of Andrew he'll ever get to touch again?

Much to think about

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (VIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here and this is part 8 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Everybody got lunch! Not Danny, though. :) He was taking a nap. And Wonder Woman

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny only doesn’t throw something because he already knew someone was on their way. The alien told him so. It’s not a surprise.

There’s someone new here. In his room. At the edge of his curtain. Too close to his bed. Danny doesn’t like it. He doesn’t hiss, because that’s Rude, but he does push his shadow to be bigger. Longer. Darker.

The human just waves. Waits. Holds something out in its hand. Danny doesn’t care. He can’t see it and he’s not going to go over there.

The human makes more words Danny can’t hear. Blech. He wonders what everyone knows here that he doesn’t. Is it French? Is it German? Jazz—

Thinking about Jazz makes his heart hurt.

Danny curls up further into the dark spots on his bed.

The human steps past Danny’s curtain. Danny does hiss, now, something long and low and halfway out of a human hearing range.

The human pauses. Its black haired-head tilts. It says—something else. Its tone is still gentle.

Danny doesn’t trust it. But it doesn’t get any closer, either. It only…holds out a hand.

There’s something in that hand.

It’s a trap, it has to be. But—

The alien said that they had friends in this tower. That the humans here are…safe. Danny doesn’t believe it. Danny is afraid to believe it.

But one of them gave him food.

…And the younger ones feed him all the time.

So maybe. Danny. Maybe he can. He flinches and he leans forward.

Danny can. He can’t see most things. But something aches in his skull where he is meant to see color and shape and familiarity, and something in his melted brain whispers wait, watch.

Danny’s back arches.

He waits. He watches.

…The object doesn’t do anything. The human simply sets it on Danny’s side table, and then it’s an object. A mostly white, somewhat red object. The other colors might be blue, or gray; they’re not distinct enough to be distinguishable in Danny’s mostly mush eyes. It’s oblong, and sort of round and—

Danny jerks upright. He snatches the item off of the table as quickly as he can, brings it as close to his eyes as he can— IT’S A ROCKET!!!! It is!!!! With fuel thrusters and everything!! If Danny had his whole brain he thinks that he could even recognize which one!!

He purrs, and he purrs, and he purrs, and he takes his pillow and he settles the hard plastic into his kind-of-damp (but mostly dry!) pillows and leans into it, happy to have this thing he likes and can recognize!!

Fine. Danny can like this human. When it comes back with little pills in a paper cup, it bravely gets closer, so Danny can see black hair pulled back, a tail swinging behind her, a tinge of red under a mostly-opaque white medical gown, and gold bracelets on her arms.

…Danny touches the bracelets to investigate before he can even be scared. They shiver with energy. Danny’s fragile form shivers back.

The human spends a lot of time with words Danny can’t hear on the paper cup, and she pulls out each little pill inside so that she can say more things, show him what it looks like, let him smell each capsule and tablet.

When the buzzing human comes back with a vibrato of joycurio/us!/joy in its wake, eager to see Danny as he is relieved to see it, Danny shows him the little paper cup.

The buzzing human trills with relief! Relief! Relief!

…That’s got to be safe enough, right? …Right?

Danny…

It’s been a while since he tried to dry-swallow medicine down his torn esophagus, but everyone’s immediate rush to find him water makes the swallow easier than Danny might have thought.

Some of the medicine is going to make him sleepy. Danny remembers enough about medicine to remember that. The thought of being vulnerable and not able to wake up is scary; but if Danny is going to get better, he’s going to have to trust that not every human wants to make sample slides out of his organs and jam needle-long electrodes into his brain, and he will have to fall asleep and not cry about it.

The cup of water the quickquickquick human gets him is so nice. His claws clink against the ceramic of the mug. Most of the liquid actually makes it into his mouth, and some of it even into his throat.

Danny lays down, pulls the rocket ship closer to his fragile form, and purrs. The fastquick human takes Danny’s hand so that he’s not alone.

At some point, his paper eyelids shut.

[tentacledwizarddraws]

hopeful

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

still so incredibly, incredibly, pissed and angry about the NDIS changes.

people are already dying, important things are already canceled, what the fuck was the point?

save a couple billion dollars?

okay? now people are dead what was the point again?

it's not going to help people like me who SHOULD be on the NDIS for support and life shit.

(hi I suffer from post-covid! and severe debilitating asthma! not to mention learning disabilities that make things incredibly inaccessible to me because the government THEMSELVES don't make shit accessible!!!!!)

(I live in hell YAY!/j)

not to mention all the people on the waiting lists who are literally straight up dying, we already have mortalities!!!!!!

WE'VE HAD MORTALITIES FOR YEARS!!!!

we've only had the NDIS since 2013, I grew up without support from the NDIS because well I was born in the 2000s lol and it took a solid few years after that for it to work out some kinks and by the time it ended up being okay as a thing I had been disabled for 10 years and had 0 supports lol, and my family had been paying out of pocket.

also like my entire family didn't have any disability supports before me either, no one had them in those days, no one in the old country we only really got anything literally in 2018-2019 for one of my bisnonni THAT'S HOW BAD THE NDIS IS BTW.

at the very least she had a carer for some time, but it was not even a possibility for such a long time.

that again, one of my other bisnonni was completely fucked over, same problems effected her even worse in her own right.

(NDIS actually care about old people challenge: FAILED)

ALSO imagine having rights! hahahahahah.

(actually sobbing rn. most of us DO NOT, we are payed less then abled people!!!!)

I am bitching and moaning everyday, because I'm not stupid none of us are, even us stupid people (ily fellow learning disabled ppl and intellectually disabled ppl) we have been greatly fucked over for decades and decades, and still with the bare fucking minimum shit it gets snatched or abused or we get scammed.

it's fucked, it's so, so, fucked.

medicare doesn't cover optical, dental, or a shit ton of other things.

the government straight up hates us all, I can not tell you the amount of bullshit I've been through, the ableism is intense!!!!! it's why I got so good at masking my very obvious learning disabilities fuck all of us for real.

like, the depression and STRAIGHT UP FEAR!!!

dude, fucked up shit.

I have so so many stories, I can't even begin to tell you.

honestly shame on 'em, I'm using my newfound free speech to bitch and moan.

because like, I do not genuinely think half the things that allow me to bitch and moan about being disabled was a thing when I was a kid, like genuinely!

honestly I wish international disabled allies could idk join in and be angry with us, we have all been through hell.

and it's fucked.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Finally. I've been so ill lately, that it's taken me forever to edit this and get it posted. I feel bad about that. I've spent so many days bedridden. I could barely eat, barely get out of bed, struggling to even clean myself up. It was just awful. The flare-up was horrendous thanks to the disability hearing and some other harmful things that happened all at once. My dissociation has been through the roof.

But I'd like to think my health is stabilizing now? I hope so. Writing is my main coping mechanism.

Excerpt:

When the world shifts on its axis in a metaphorical sense, Lena Luthor prepares for the worst. It’s her coping mechanism. If she is prepared for the worst, then she’s prepared for anything, right?

This logic doesn’t hold up when faced with healing from trauma. How humans process trauma differs from aliens. She can rationally and logically prepare, but her work centers a human mind. Sure, she’s slowly branching L-Corp beyond human-centric models. Hiring several alien scientists and green-lighting their projects has aided in this endeavor. Opening Luthor Hospital to alien medical personnel and patients also aids in better understanding.

She’s talked with Sam, Nia, Kelly, and even J’onn about what to expect. Alex isn’t answering her phone, otherwise, Lena will have talked with her too. It’s J’onn that gives her the biggest insight.

“Think of it this way,” he says. He sits in his red armchair next to a wall of bookcases, the ground floor of the tower he’s been building since he left the DEO. Lena finds the wall fascinating, and wants to dig into the treasure trove of books, but instead, she focuses on J’onn. “Kara’s first thirteen years of life was in a rigid homogeneous culture. One where everyone had a place in society, often pre-determined from birth. She’s learned some flexibility in thinking since coming to Earth, but she’s also fallen into that rigid approach far more times than I can count.” 

Lena sighs. “Like her reaction to the Kryptonite during the worldkiller crisis.” 

“Yes.” J’onn leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “Her trauma spoke louder than her rational-mind, and her laser focus pointed in the wrong direction. That rigidity from her culture flared, and it is only when she realized she was losing you, that she made a decision to do better.”

“Wait, what?” Lena stares at him. “What do you mean losing me?”

J’onn smiles, sadly. “She shared of your elevator conversation. Where you said Supergirl acted like your mother. That you’d never trust her again. She came to me devastated, wondering how to fix it. I believe she still beats herself up over it.” 

“Oh.” In all honesty, Lena hasn’t thought about that conversation in over a year. “I tend toward overly dramatic language,” she says, quietly. “And at the time, I didn’t want to ever trust Supergirl again.” 

“What caused you to trust her again?”

Lena shakes her head. “I don’t know.” 

J’onn’s words haunts her the rest of that day and the next. 

She understands to an extent rigid thinking. She’s seen it in Lex and Lillian, and glimpses of it in her father. She also understands laser-focus on a topic, as she does it herself when chin-deep in a project. 

She wants to be able to view things through Kara’s lens, and she hopes Kara will be able to view things through her lens. It’s a simple metaphor, one to bridge the gap between her human experience and Kara’s alien one.

Likely it’d be easier to discuss this with Kara herself, but that proves daunting. So Lena leaves it for the therapy sessions. Yes, she knows unraveling a lifetime of trauma in one session of therapy is unrealistic. It doesn’t stop her from feeling frustrated that the first session is only fifty-five minutes. She wants to get it all done and over with in one go, but that isn’t how these things work.

She likes to think she’s prepared for the glimpses into Kara’s trauma. The deep grief Kara hides surfaces randomly. Lena has learned to sit with Kara, let her weep or rage as needed, and be present to hold her through it all. It’s not that different from what Kara has done for her.

This still isn’t enough to prepare her for therapy with Kara Zor El Danvers. She doesn’t realize until their first session how intricate and delicate the web is within Kara’s mind.

[dreamsy990]

drawing the first two ocs i ever cared about, ft the one who i made to vent and inspired my username, and the one i accidentally ended up in the exact situation of. its been like 10 years since i came up with them but i still think about these two. might draw gijinkas of them or redesign them or something

[healthsinfos]

लवकरच मिळणार पाच लाखापर्यंतच्या मोफत उपचारांचा लाभ

महाराष्ट्र शासनाच्या मंत्रिमंडळ बैठकीमध्ये घेण्यात आलेल्या निर्णयानंतर सर्वसामान्य जनता आज लावून बसली होती. या मंत्रिमंडळ बैठकीत अत्यंत महत्त्वाचा असा महाराष्ट्रातील सर्व नागरिकांना प्रति कुटुंब प्रति वर्ष पाच लाखांपर्यंतच्या उपचारांचे विमा कवच मिळण्याची घोषणा करण्यात आली होती व अशा अत्यंत महत्त्वपूर्ण घोषणेच्या अंमलबजावणीसाठी सर्व जनता शा���नाकडे अस लावून बसली होती. काल दिनांक 28 जुलै 2023 रोजी…

[gargoyle-steven-au]

"M...M... Mom...?"

Ah yes, the greatest foe of every man

✨ Mommy issues✨

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@starry-eyed-samantha

@thepersonaking56

[seithr]

if this garrus figure does not ship soon i may have to cancel it i'm sad man

[invinciblerodent]

[existennialmemes]

God being alive is just absurd,

like mechanically speaking.

My ability to feel joy significantly depends on the functionality of the microbes in my intestinal tract, and I'm sorry but this is a

bullshit system

and I demand to speak to the Devs