#if you're going into medicine in any capacity

[thebibliosphere]

I'm not sure the novelty of a doctor actually providing me with compassionate and competent treatment will ever wear off.

Like... I've known for years I am sick. Logically I am aware I've been ignored, abused, and violated. But there's still that abused and gaslit part of my brain fearfully murmuring, "But what if I am doing this for attention and I just don't know it? what if I am a Bad Patient?"

And it's so ingrained that even when a doctor tells me they ran biopsies that confirm my diagnosis irrefutably, I'm still like, "Wow, I sure am a good liar being able to fake biopsies like that." Like bitch, the fuck did I do? Manifest a fake result through the power of my brain?

What kind of Matilda-ass-nonsense do I think I'm capable of? And why am I not using it to make Elon Musk explode at will?

Anyway. I hope my therapist's great-grandkids enjoy the college education I'm about to bankroll. Fuck me.

[xerith-42]

Some things we may have forgotten

I've been rewatching MCD and taking extensive notes on it in hopes that I'll never have to watch it again and this is just a list of things that I don't see mentioned or brought up very often/ever that we should talk about and think about more

In the first episode Garroth tries to attack Vylad (angst potential) and Vylad literally just combat locks him by logging out of the game. This is objectively funny and should not be rewritten in any capacity. This should be canon as it is in every universe.

Aphmau's cat Meowki gets randomly killed in Episode 12 by a skeleton while Kiki is right upstairs. Just saying, there's some angst potential there.

In episode 11 Garroth reveals that he knows some medicine. Pretty sure this is never brought up again, but we could always bring it up.

Logan is apparently good with a bow while Zenix is trash at it despite being a self proclaimed "expert archer" which I think is very funny (I know this is part of Zenix's cover but what if we took it seriously it would be so funny)

Zoey is originally from the river village, as is Donna. Pretty sure they retcon that for Zoey, but I like to think the two of them could have been friends before Phoenix Drop.

Garroth actually almost dies in episode 15. Like Dr. Doctor says he will probably die soon at the start of the episode. And he doesn't get healed until episode 20. He literally spends 5 episodes laid up in bed dying.

Brendan's at his side probably angsting the entire time I'm just saying if you want sad gay fanfics, it's sitting right there!

Azura and Garroth were friends as kids??? Hello???? I think this is just a massive plot hole considering what Garroth's actual backstory ends up being asjfgshjdfgjk

Okay but if we twist it a little bit, they were friends as kids as in like at the guard academy??? Bc they're like vaguely teenage/young adult so maybe that's what she means? In which case I wanna think about that more because childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite romance arcs ever. But is it really childhood friends if you met when you were like... 18?? And you're in your like mid to late twenties probably, I wouldn't really classify that as childhood friends.

WAIT IT GETS WORSE!

I don't... I don't even have a joke here, this is just a massive plot hole. Like all of this is just not true to Garroth's backstory as we know it. Grew up in the same village? You mean O'Khasis?? Where Garroth also FAKED HIS DEATH????

I literally don't know what to say to this I was just trying to find silly little facts to try and incorporate into my rewrite and instead I found a massive gaping plot hole

Moving on, in episode 19 when Aphmau confronts Zenix and they fight, he actually apologizes to her. As if he regrets having to hurt her for the sake of his/the Shadow King's goals.

The Lord of Brightport says the Shadow King "used to be a lord". Which like... Okay, I can bend backwards a few ways to say that he could be referring to how Shad started Falcon Claw, but how the fuck does this dude know that??? I feel like Laurance constantly just stumbling into plot holes by complete accident

Dale is apparently a Garmau shipper, going as far as to ask Aphmau if she plans on hooking up with Garroth. I like to think that he and Molly have a bet going for how long it takes for one of the two of them to finally fess up.

Raven's mom tried to eat him??

Okay then.

[auroreliis]

Hey! I loved your Batfam movie night post. If you have the time could you write a fic with the platonic yandere Batfam and a sick reader. Maybe reader refuses to take any medication and the fam has to get them to take it. Or maybe reader is so fevered that they sob when someone (probably Bruce) isn’t holding them. Thanks for your time!!

Platonic Yandere!Batfam

Summary: You're sick

CW: no warnings

(not edited or proofread)

Richard let out an exasperated breath as he paced around in front of your bedroom door.

"Why do they have to be so difficult?", he mumbled under his breath, not intending for it to be heard, but Bruce made out what he said.

Silence filled the room for a few moments, the only noise being Dick's footsteps, before Bruce spoke, "I'll ground them", he begun, before adding, "And I'll take away their phone."

Richard stopped and turned to him, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw hanging low, signaling disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? What exactly will that change? Just force them to take the medicine already!", fumed the younger of the two, clearly worried about you.

"No", said Bruce and Richard slightly leaned forward, as if he misheard.

"No? Why not? Don't you understand that they're sick? They're pale, trembling, weak and-"

"Stop", Bruce's words concluded the argument, "You'll wake them if you continue shouting."

Richard flinched. He couldn't help it.

His heart ached at the thought of you being in pain. It was even worse now that you had refused to take your medicine.

As your older brother, it's his job to protect you, but you're being so difficult.

Although he wanted to continue the argument in hopes of changine Bruce's mind, it was clear that they were done.

His jaw clenched to stop himself from saying anything stupid and with that he stormed off.

Bruce let out a sigh and leaned on a nearby wall. He was so tired. His energy was completely depleted from his worry.

Worry? No, it was more like fear.

Bruce was terrified. You were sick and had refused to take your medicine. He knows how serious certain illnesses can be, but you just refuse to take care of yourself.

You're doing nothing other than proving them right that you need them.

However, he's your father. He would never force you to take medicine. Deep down, he feels like he owes you at least a little freedom of choice, considering that you didn't want to be there in the first place.

His palm drags across his face, not fearing that he'll scratch his skin off, instead ruminating on his further course of action.

A cough made his eyes widen. It was your voice.

He rushed into your room and for a moment you were convinced he was going to trip.

"Is everything okay?", his voice was slightly shaky, as if he were trying to hide how scared he was for you. Going off how swiftly he shut his mouth, one would assume that he had planned to add more questions.

You wanted to nod your head, but lacked the strengh to do that, so you chose to hum in affirmation.

With blurred vision, you saw your father slightly bend forward, presumably after exhaling.

"Can you...", you wheezed, before realising that you lacked the lung capacity to go on.

Your father, however, wanted to hear the rest of your sentence.

"I can. I can do anything you want me to. What do you need? Would you like some water? Should Alfred make you some more soup? Would you like me to read you a story? Should I-", he went through all of his options, carefully observing your body language to see if any of his suggestions piqued your interest.

"...Hold me, please", you finally finished.

His gaze softened and his mouth formed a relieved smile as he exhaled. It took him time to answer, "Of course I can."

So you were alright. That was soothing.

His arms held you tightly, still being careful not to hurt you. The two of you layed there in silence.

Patience slowly ran out and before he could stop himself, he questioned you about the medicine.

His tone was gentle and as quiet as he could make it, almost sounding desperate.

You thought about it for a moment, trying to find the shortest way to confess your thoughts.

"Taste...", you croaked.

"Taste? Does it taste bad?", Bruce inquired, before remembering that you had troubles speaking, "I'll make sure you get some better tasting medicine. Will you take it then?"

You smiled and nodded, satisfied with the current arrangement.

No longer being able to stay awake, you drifted off to sleep.

It had been a few days now. Your condition had improved and you were taking the better tasting version of the medicine.

Today it was Dick's turn to feed you.

He was in a much better mood than a few days ago.

"Here comes the airplane- Come on, open up...", the spoon hovered in front of your closed mouth.

Your eyebrows lifted as you looked at him.

"Dick, I'm not thre-", before you could finish, he shoved the spoon into your mouth, causing you to gag.

While you did cough up half of the soup, the rest definitely made it to the intended destination.

After forcing out a few more coughs, you had finally cleared your windpipe, "WHAT THE HELL, DICK?"

"Sorry! Just had to make sure you would actually take it, unlike the medicine!", his innocent smile almost blinded you.

"What if I had choked?" you retorted

"You know that your big brother wouldn't let that happen", he dismissed your words with caretaker speech.

Your temptation to add a snarky remark or roll your eyes was supressed and you instead continued listenting to your brother boast about various topics which you didn't really pay attention to.

The two of you continued to enjoy spending time with each other, if you could call it that.

Under Dick's and Bruce's care, you always recover quickly.

[lilspacewolfie]

Papas Caring For Hospitalized Reader

Spawned from pure self-indulgence. I've been through more hospital visits these last four weeks than I have my entire life. I want someone to bundle me up and make my hand better. I hate hospitals and operations *sobs*. Enjoy nonetheless!

Content: 2k words, Papas x gn!reader, SFW, bullet-pointed format, mentions of hospitals, needles (only mentioned), mention of general anaesthetic, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, lots of sweetness, you're getting pampered, no beta we die like nihil!)

This man will do everything in his power to make sure you’re looked after and relaxed. 

Tea for days! He will try different flavours until he finds the one you like.

Dives headfirst into deep research as to which herbs help your injury heal, as well as calm your nerves. He knows his plants well, but he wants to know more. You deserve the best of the best.

Insists on going with you for infirmary visits even when you tell him you’re fine (you’re not really, but you just don't want him to worry.)

He will anyway. 

Chronic worrier, especially given his age. 

He takes his health VERY seriously, yours too! The Ministry has the best medical care around. 

If you need a wound cleaned, stitches taken out, or other medicines, it's the place to get it. 

Primo will be with you as much as he’s able to, even if that means he’s sitting for a long time while you’re being treated. 

When you’re free and discharged—bandaged, bruised and probably feeling sore, he’ll take you back to his room for some TLC. 

Will have a bath or shower with you, (in his jungle of a washroom), depending on what you prefer and smother you with all your favourite scents.  

He’s a deeply caring individual and shows it openly. 

Will speak gently to you, whisper sweetly and ensure you’re not overstimulated more than you have been. 

“Shh, I know. I know amore. It’ll be over soon, just breathe for me.”

He knows how much you hate hospital/doctor visits. 

You can squeeze his hand if you want. 

If you need space for a bit after everything, he’ll gladly give it. 

If not, prepare to receive a lot of kisses, especially on your forehead (a lot of them, like… SO many.)

He will help you bathe if you’re unable to, running a foaming washcloth over your skin carefully. 

Let him wash your hair! It’s one of the things he adores doing for you!

Once you’re washed, warm and feeling more relaxed it’s time for more tea in bed with a snack if you want one!

He insists. Even if you don't feel like eating, try to drink something for him <3

“It will help you feel good and relax, Il mio fiore.” (My flower)

Fluids are important (wink-wonk).

Reminds you to take your meds like clockwork (always with tea and water)

You’re his petalo (petal) and he loves you dearly. 

Will wrap you up in the mountain of blankets and faux furs he has on his lush bed. He’s old, he feels the cold more than others. At least he has you to keep him warm.

Secondo hates when you’re hurt/hurting in any capacity. 

Even if it's something minor, he’ll worry about it to the point where he loses sleep over it. 

He’s a big, brooding mother hen. 

The Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier doesn’t stop at Primo.

This man wants you to be okay and it kills him when you’re not. 

Will also go with you to the infirmary and stay with you. 

The staff always find him a little intimidating, but they know he’s just worried sick. He’s kind to everyone, but honestly, he won't speak much unless spoken to. 

“Are you alright, mio tesoro?” Is what he mainly asks, his voice so low it's close to a rumble. 

Tries his best to make you feel relaxed. 

Will make really, god-awful dad jokes that are so bad you do laugh. 

He will quietly hold your hand the entire time, rubbing his bare fingers over our knuckles. 

You rarely see him remove his gloves in public, but he HAS to be touching you. He insists. 

He’s had enough knocks and breaks in his life to know how fragile the human body can be, but also how incredible it is at self-repair. 

That doesn’t mean he views you as a fragile thing that needs to be wrapped in wool, but he loves you so deeply he would if you let him. 

He admires your strength and resolve as you put up with being poked and prodded (by needles or with doctors.) 

Once you’re released from care, good luck getting him to be anywhere less than within touching distance. 

You’re getting a kiss. Lots of them. Mostly chaste and gentle. 

You can tell it's because he worries about hurting you. 

He relaxes a bit more when you kiss him HARD and bite at his bottom lip. 

Will also help you bathe and shower. Again, touching distance. Just let him be near you for his own sanity. 

Though he wouldn’t be upset if you need some space. He’s very understanding if you’re overstimulated. 

Will linger outside the door in case you need anything. 

Let him dry you off and dress you in comfortable clothes. He can see you that way. 

He can see you’re still with him and that you’re safe. 

He’ll touch you slowly, running his large hands over your skin. 

Will spoon you once you’re in bed or let you curl into him. 

He’ll bury his nose in your hair, breathe you in and say a wordless prayer to Lucifer that you recover quickly. 

“Ti amo.” You hear him whisper as he presses a kiss to your forehead and strokes your hair.

Only falls asleep once he’s sure you have, holding you close the entire night. 

Terzo. Oh, Terzo. 

Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier? Check. Turn it up to eleven. 

Unlike Secondo, Terzo is open with his worries. 

He’s a fair mix of his brothers, both gentle and occasionally stoic given the shape you’re in. 

If it's something minor, he’ll try to play it off with a bit of humour like he tends to do. He’ll make bad jokes (oh ho, you thought Secondo’s were bad just wait for this.) 

If it’s something you need an operation for, this man will be silently out of his mind. *insert any internally screaming gif here*

He takes pride in his appearance, but you’ll start to notice cracks—dishevelled hair, a button not done up or a smudge of his paint. 

It would worry you more if he didn’t have Omega or one of his brothers to make sure he’s drinking and eating regularly.

Tries to hide his stress. Fails. Rinse and repeat. 

He doesn’t want you to worry about him, you’re the one in pain, about to be put under and Lucifer… What's he going to do if something happens?

He loves you. Adores you. You’re his life.

He knows how much you hate being stuck in hospitals and it pains him to see you stressed. The last thing he wants to do is add to that, so he’ll play it cool. 

When you go in he’s pacing the halls.

Rest assured, the healthcare of the Ministry has you in safe hands. 

It puts Terzo at ease, but don't expect him to leave your side when everything is over. He will sit at your bedside, kiss your knuckles and stroke your hair. 

Let him touch you. Just let him. 

He’s been through so much heartache in his life. 

Will kiss each of your fingers and whisper sweet words to you. 

“You’ll be okay, vita mia. Cuore mio. I’m here. I’m with you.” (My life. My heart.)

Maybe he’ll hum some songs too. 

You’re his everything. 

Once you’re ready and well enough to leave, you’re getting pampered to hell and back. This man worships the ground you walk on. 

Whatever you want it's not too much. A bath? A shower? Just to get into bed and fall asleep? Terzo’s right there with you.

Dinner in his massive, plush bed with your favourite movie.

When you’re ready to sleep he’ll plaster himself to you. He would crawl inside your skin if he could. 

Fitful sleeper. Wakes up a few times just to make sure you’re ok. 

Eventually sleeps soundly once you kiss his worries away. 

Stroke his hair. He’s a sucker for that!

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

He’s learned bad habits from the Papas it seems. 

Worrier. Yes, it's chronic. Seriously, are we sure this isn’t like the flu?

Paces a lot. 

Good luck getting him to sit still. 

If he's not pacing, he’s as close to you as physics will allow. 

Lots of touching. Will rest his head by your hip if he’s tired from all that pacing. 

Perfect opportunity to run your fingers through his hair.  

He’ll hold your hands and kiss your knuckles. 

All that stress tires him out. 

“Mi dispiace, amore. Non sto aiutando,” he’ll whisper brokenly. (I'm sorry, amore. I'm not helping.)

You two probably end up curled up on the bed of the infirmary together if you have been waiting a while. A nap won't hurt. 

You kiss slowly as you get comfortable, limbs tangled.

The angle is a bit awkward. 

The sleep helps but he’s still going to be stressed when he wakes up. 

Will get you anything you need. A drink or food, perhaps one of the really nice yogurts they do at the visitor's cantine. 

Will ask the nurses and doctors SO many questions. He likes to be informed. Gets stressed if anything is unclear. 

Maybe he should be in this infirmary bed and not you. 

Prepare to be coddled once you’re discharged. 

You’re both taking a long, hot bath or shower. 

He wants to wash you down so he can see you and make sure you’re ok. Lots of tender kisses to your skin. 

Ends up with you in his arms under the hot water just swaying together. 

You’re wearing his clothes. No, not just because he likes how they look on you but because they’re baggy and won't irritate your skin *cough*. Sure Copia. 

He’ll order your favourite food and you can watch a movie in his room together. 

Will mother hen you, constantly ask if you need anything, and make sure your water glass is full. 

He probably will cry. It’s just been so much. 

You can cry together if you want. You both understand. 

Also like clockwork when it comes to medication (if you’re taking any.) 

Curls up in bed with you. You both sleep like the dead after such a long, stressful day. 

Breakfast in bed when you wake up.

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

Copia might not be of the Emeritus blood, but unholy shit does the curse of being a chronic worrier catch like wildfire. 

He’s Papa now he’s gotta be strong. 

Will put on a brave face. But underneath he’s still the cardinal he was years back. 

He’ll worry and fret and pace. There's no changing some things. 

While he’s outwardly less anxious, this poor man has so much weighing on his shoulders after he took over to front the band. 

Inwardly it's chaos. 

His hair is never quite as smoothed back as it normally is and his paint is a touch worn. 

There are some things you can't change about a man. Not really. 

Prepare to be coddled, again. The mother hen has never left the coop. 

He’s going to pamper you when he gets you back to his room. Of course, you’re staying with him, he’s not letting you go. 

So. Many. Kisses. 

This man loves kissing you. He adores you so. 

A bath in his spacious tub is just what the doctor ordered. You lay against him and relax in the dim with only the light of candles. 

Finally lets himself cry. 

You shush him, kiss him and remind him that you love him and that you’re ok. 

He loves you so much he can't even express it. The thought of losing you kills him. 

He tries to push your hands away when you take a cloth to his paint. You’re the one who's been hurt and poked at all day, he’s supposed to be caring for you!

Eventually relents because you both know you need this. 

More kisses and mutual washing. You love seeing how his skin pinkens across his cheek, arms and back. It brings out the pretty freckles all over his body. 

When you both get into bed, tangled up again, Copia will whisper how much he loves you until he’s too tired to talk anymore. 

You both sleep like the dead.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

[scientia-rex]

Read some more of Toxic Parents tonight and wow!!!! the amount of anger I have!!! and the incredible unwillingness I have to actually remember my childhood and feel associated feelings!!!!! Like, there are events I keep telling over like talismans, because these are the events that prove I'm not crazy. These are things that happened that should never have happened. The time Dad kicked the door in is the biggest one. The time I spent twelve straight hours cowering in the far back of our station wagon with my fingers jammed in my ears so I wouldn't hear my father screaming at my mother and my mother sobbing as we drove to a different state. The time I told my mother I had gotten accepted to graduate school and her first words were, "How are you going to pay for it?" instead of "Congratulations" or "I'm proud of you."

But these aren't all of it. They're so far from all of it. One memory I have is not of the presence of abuse, but the sudden, bewildering absence of it: my sister drove me to the nearest town with a mall, an hour and a half away. We were stopping to pick up snacks for the drive back, I think at a Safeway. I picked up a box of Golden Grahams cereal and nervously asked my sister if I could have it. She said, "Of course you can, you know what you want." In the limbus of a childhood spent being told I was picking the wrong soda for myself when I gave my order at fast food restaurants, suddenly being told I could have what I wanted T-boned me emotionally. It was like running into a wall I hadn't known was there. What? I can just want things? I can just get things and have them because I want them? I don't have to justify it, or lie, or hide what I want? No one is going to tell me I'm stupid for wanting something or that I'll regret it?

Just an incessant drip-drip-drip of emotional abuse, sometimes punctuated by a flash flood. "If I leave your mother, how do you think you're going to eat? You're going to end up on the street."

And now, reading the section on how children end up feeling about the passive parents who enable abuse, I just think, oh, there's me! There's me. I hated her and pitied her and loved her and wanted more for her. I didn't have the adult emotional capacity to understand how much of her life she was complicit in, but damningly, I did vaguely, tangentially understand that she was constantly making excuses for Dad--coming to my bedroom to sit on my bed and tell me, while crying, that he was sorry, while he never apologized. Making it my job to comfort her. I said to her once that I remember, "If he was really sorry, he'd stop doing this," and she just looked at me with something that looked like sorrow but I could tell was rage--she was angry at me for not forgiving him and letting us snap right back into the "good" phase between angry outbursts, where we could, for however long it lasted, pretend to be a normal family.

And how she always resented me. She resented that I was separate from her, she resented that I could do and see and understand things she couldn't, she was angry when I went into Psychology, even angrier when I went into medicine. She's been throttling down her anger at Dad for as long as I've been alive, pretending to be malleable, having vague health complaints and maladies mixed in among the real ones, forever retiring to her bed with a washcloth over her eyes instead of interacting with me.

And now that I'm an adult, and not just an adult but a middle-aged doctor, why don't I call? Why do I insist on bringing up the past? Why do I expect Dad to apologize? I'm hurting his feelings, after all.

The past. Sure. When I graduated from medical school, he named the worst doctor we ever met and said, "He went to medical school, too. Don't get a big head."

And when we were talking, once, not long ago, maybe two years or so, about how he used to stand there and yell at us--I can't remember any of the words anymore, just the way he looked, the tone of his voice, the experience like being buffeted by a strong wind--he said, "At least your sister fought back. You just stood there and took it."

I can't imagine a clearer illustration that he doesn't actually regret his behavior. He doesn't regret his actions. He still feels justified. We were disappointments, we were failures, we weren't him, we weren't what he wanted for us, and more than that, we were convenient targets for his rage. You can do almost anything to your children and get away with it. And he didn't hit us, so it was okay, and the fact that we were hurt by the actions he took with the intent to hurt us means that we were weak. And it's okay to hurt the weak.

Christ! This is the man who, in a fit of sullen self-pity, when I gave him a mug that said "World's #1 Dad" for Father's Day when I was probably eight or nine, talked about how we both know that's not true. As if a child is your therapist. As if it were my responsibility to reassure him.

My mother has read Toxic Parents. My mother has read Why Does He Do That? She has a bachelor's and most of a master's in psychology. She has an IQ of 150. She is a bad mother. It feels like the worst judgment you can make, a bad mother. It feels worse than calling someone a bad father. Because we expect less from fathers. But a bad mother is unnatural.

But lots and lots and lots of mothers are bad at being mothers. And I love mine and I hate her, and I'm angry and I'll always be angry, and I'll die angry, and I have to try to carve what happiness I can from a world I entered into under false pretenses. I was always told I was wanted. I knew I wasn't. I may have been intentional, but I wasn't wanted.

My mother's mother just died last week. I didn't know her. She chose not to know us. I hadn't seen her since I was twenty-two and graduated from college. My mother is struggling with her relationship with her mother. She often tells me her mother was a narcissist. I want to ask her what she thinks she is. She's not a narcissist, but she's an enabler, she's a doormat, she's a classic case of codependency, and I don't think she sees it that way. I always got the sense she was just waiting for us to grow up and go away so she and Dad could go back to being happily miserable alone together.

I asked her, this last year, if she'd read Why Does He Do That? and she said she had, and she asked me carefully why I was thinking about it, waiting for me to confess to her that my husband of ten years was abusive. She's been gunning for this relationship since the beginning--I'd been with him for maybe a year when she mailed me a copy of He's Just Not That Into You (or maybe it was the sequel, It's Called a Breakup Because it's Broken) along with an article on how to date as a single older woman. I was 23. She was flabbergasted when I said I thought Dad was abusive. Denied it immediately. I listed examples and she didn't even say words, just made simultaneously pained and exasperated noises.

She wants me to be single and a career failure and pathetic so she can feel good about herself in comparison. Dad thinks he wants me to be like him, but if I actually behaved like he does, I think he finally would belt me.

I had to hide everything good in me from them so they wouldn't deliberately ruin it. I couldn't tell them about my writing. The first time I finished writing a novel I told Mom and she didn't even acknowledge it, just told me to do the dishes. I was sixteen. I can't tell them what I love about my husband because it would be like speaking to them in a foreign language. They think it's a performance, like their performance, and they're always waiting for me to slip up and reveal the misery they're sure is lurking just underneath.

I've done well. They don't own me. I wish I had real parents, but I'm going to try not to shop for oranges at the hardware store anymore.

[darlingkirstein]

eremika in any sort of romcom setting hehe

i think this is romcom-y enough??? idk it's a silly little meet cute in fantastically cheesy unrealistic scenario so i think it fits the romcom vibe Teehee🩷 hope you enjoy my pookie wookie vic <3

actor au / fluffy / rated e for everyone / 3.6k

Mikasa toils over the counter, sifting through the different orders — many have rather well-renowned names attached — to decide which ones to tackle first. Being a barista proves more difficult than she initially imagined. All she needed was a simple job to help pay the rent; the coffee shop being on a movie studio lot has been an added bonus, a chance to mingle with stars.

And by mingle, she means floundering interactions with the latest growing stars with their persnickety drink orders, some quick to complain at the smallest errors. Whenever she gets the opportunity to see someone whose likeness is stamped on a poster in her room, Mikasa mangles all attempts at compliments. Trying to praise their work only culminates in rosy cheeks and baffled looks shot back in return.

Exhaling, she gets to work, going through the orders in a procession ascending from least complicated to most tedious. Everyone seems to want extra toppings these days, extra pumps of artificial syrups that turn their 'coffee' into little more than an excessively-priced milkshake. Whatever gets them through the day, she supposes. Making a movie is tricky work.

Mikasa understands this. Sorta. Or at least, she's attempting to. The acting jobs haven't exactly been falling into her lap, though basic probability encourages her that at least one of these countless auditions have to turn into something. She's desperate for anything — at one of her past attempts, an audition for a medicine commercial, the casting agent giggled midway through her delivery of some poorly-written script. The best Mikasa's ever gotten was being an extra for an episode of a new television show — which was promptly cancelled after a first season.

She finishes an affogato and a raspberry danish for Marilyn Lawrence, lounging around on her lunch break from shooting Saturn's Divinity. It apparently takes too much effort to acknowledge Mikasa's calls of her name, too preoccupied by whatever's on her phone to pay much attention.

"Marilyn!" Mikasa repeats, nervous for yet another celebrity interaction. Lawrence only just won a BAFTA for her performance in This Holy House.

With a scoff, the actress strolls to the counter, barely mouthing a thanks before sulking back to a table, carrying all her actress-y things with.

It's hard not to feel like pond scum when the upper echelons of the acting world are hardly willing to spare her simple pleasantries, yet alone anything resembling kindness. Mikasa brushes it off, moving onto the next order.

She just gets started before Marilyn returns.

"This isn't gluten-free, is it?" The spiteful manner in which she asks has Mikasa stammering even before she attempts to answer her question.

"I, uh— I actually don't know. Let me check."

Flustered, she ducks down, foraging for a paper or manual that lists the ingredients. This is something Mikasa knows she should remember, but this job has squeezed out so much of her brain capacity that little else remains.

"You really don't remember?" Marilyn laughs, and Mikasa can hear her continued click-clacking on the phone keyboard, probably complaining to a friend. "You could've killed me, y'know. People have this little thing called celiac. It's important."

Mikasa suspects that Marilyn Lawrence does not have Celiac disease, but she isn't willing to invite even more wrath. "I'm sorry, ma'am, you're—"

"Whatever. Just figure it out and fix it."

When Mikasa falls quiet to continue her search, she expects the frustration to simmer; it doesn't, and Marilyn continues to berate her, though most of her comments are utterly nonsensical. Mikasa's manager is nowhere to be found, useless for getting her out of this less-than-lovely situation.

Her savior comes in the form of a grey-haired gentleman in a suit, bewildered as he bursts through the door, scanning everyone inside — until his gaze falls on Mikasa. He smiles, cell phone pressed tightly against his ear. Though she cannot pin down his name, Mikasa recognizes him as some movie producer, a real big shot.

"You there! Barista! Come with me."

Stunned, Mikasa points to her chest. "Me?"

Marilyn scoffs again. "Uh, hello? What about me?"

The man ignores the Hollywood A-lister, brushing past her to reach the counter. "Yes, you. We need you. I'll explain when we get there. Come on."

Head in a tizzy, Mikasa cocks her head — squinting her eyes, unsure that she isn't fast asleep in the clutches of a dream. What did some movie executive want with some barista?

"I— I think you have the wrong person."

"Jesus, there's no time for this." He turns to the side, muttering harsh words into the phone. "Yeah— I found someone. Just give us a second."

He turns his attention back to Mikasa.

"Are you gonna come with or not? We need you."

At this point, Marilyn has surpassed the angry-scolding-stage and lands in stunned silence. Mikasa still doesn't know what she's needed for, but angering a Hollywood exec is a surefire way to get blacklisted from any future opportunities. They don't want any dead weight in a cast.

"Uh, yeah— No, I'll— I'll go. I'll go."

Opportunities like this are so rare. Mikasa gets so consumed by this fleeting chance that angering her boss isn't even a concern she consciously entertains. As the executive's eyes burn a hole through her head, she feels hypnotized to untie her apron, tossing it aside. It's tempting to pinch her arm, still convinced of a REM-induced trick, but before she can ponder it, Mikasa is crossing the counter, calling her co-worker's name.

The coffee shop's manager finally appears, and as Mikasa is whisked away by the executive's firm grasp, his protests join Marilyn's, though both go utterly unanswered as Mikasa jumps onto a golf cart waiting outside the doors.

It's hard not to feel like Cinderella climbing onto that pumpkin carriage, ready for the ball.

Mikasa's heart races. She tries guessing what possibly awaits her at the end of this ride. Some secret meeting? An agent, excited to tell her that they've been monitoring her auditions and love what they see? All options feel like a pipe dream.

They arrive at an outdoor filming set, and Mikasa wonders over the absolute chaos going on, the cameramen adjusting their equipment, the mousy-haired director shouting commands through his microphone, guiding the team. She recognizes from the lovey-dovey set design that this must be for Before Affection Retires.

"Hey," the executive barks, snapping his fingers, breaking her free from her daze. "Go over to that trailer. Get in costume and then get back here."

Costume? Mikasa is dazed. She can't produce any discernible response, tumbling out of the cart, speedwalking toward the right trailer. She's never done something requiring a costume, only her plain-old, regular street clothes, blending in easily in the background. This is all new.

Before she knows it, Mikasa is donned in a pretty dress that stops just below her knees, its color somewhere between plum and maroon, the shoulders flowy and graceful. The makeup process was even more foreign — Mikasa's daily makeup routine is simplistic to the core, but the stylist here wanted her eyelashes to pop, seductive and primed for romance. A curling iron turns her hair into bouncy, bombshell waves.

She feels so unlike herself, but adrenaline sends her speeding back for the scene of the action, toward the director still barking out commands.

"You!" He cries, pointing. "Get over here! We're starting a shoot in five minutes. Get a script."

Mikasa wonders if every movie set is this hostile, or if everyone here is just having a bad day. One page from the script gets pressed against her chest, along with one order. "Memorize this."

But before she can begin, a frazzled assistant debriefs her on the whole debacle, leading her to the side and gesturing around wildly.

"You know what you're doing? Can you act?"

Mikasa blinks. "Uh, yeah? I can, yeah."

It's clear that answer doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in the assistant, but regardless, there's apparently no time to waste on nonsense.

"Diana Baldwin is a no show. There's no time in the schedule to skip her scenes today. You'll be filling in for her for the kiss scene. Got all that?"

Diana Baldwin? That's who I'm filling in for?

There's no time to be starstruck. "Got it. Yup."

"Alright, good. You'll say the lines, and they'll do the ADR in post production. You're just a stand-in. That's it. Don't expect overnight fame, yeah?"

Mikasa nods fervently, still so confused. "No fame. That's— I'm no— Why am I here?"

The question comes out without thinking, but that thought hasn't left her mind since the coffee shop, never able to ask in the swirl of chaos.

"You look like her from the back. Same height, same build. The editors can work their magic."

She'll be little more than a green screen, but the thrill of being on a big movie set, stepping in for an actress she's long admired, is worth it.

"Where do I go? Do I— How much time?"

"Three minutes. Get studying."

Mikasa sends herself into a corner to study, scanning the swoonworthy dialogue for the upcoming scene. A big scene. Important, crucial as the romantic climax for a major Hollywood production, and it depends on her.

The words sink in slowly, as best as they can. The last thing Mikasa wants is to earn a director's ire by flubbing the script to a laughable degree. She prepares herself to be flirty, desirable.

"You! Get ready to shoot."

Mikasa scoots into the filming area, finding the mark on the grass guiding her position. As she assumes the position provided by the script, glancing absentmindedly toward the side, she catches glimpses of camera operators approaching, microphones getting closer.

"Action!"

As directed, Mikasa tilts her eyes upward — finally catching a view at her co-star. Damn near jeopardizing the sanctity of the shoot, she struggles hard to keep her jaw from dropping.

Eren Jaeger. A total heartthrob. Mikasa's harbored a subtle (not really) crush on him for the last few years, just when he began his ascent into Hollywood relevancy. She's seen most of his movies, praising multiple as her favorites. God, Mikasa knows she'll even watch the less-than-savory options, the ones without glowing reviews — independent films with tiny budgets and screenwriters that need fine tuning. She has his films ranked by her favorites, but even that is a difficult list to maintain. Though his social media presence isn't huge, Mikasa keeps up with him.

And now she gets to kiss him.

He wears an outfit so casually suave, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the first couple buttons undone for an alluring effect. His shoulder-length hair is something you'd seen on a 1990s teen pop culture magazine, harkening to the age of 'effortless' hairstyles, so swooshy. Mikasa chooses Eren over a young Leonardo DiCaprio any day of the week without hesitation.

The lines nearly slip from Mikasa's memory. She's supposed to be flirty with Eren Jaeger; now, her tasks feels all the more insurmountable to live up to, the standards raised to their highest level.

As Eren approaches, he grins. Mikasa has to remind herself that it's the character he's smiling so pretty at, not her. Some fake girl. Not her.

The tragedy of that causes her to almost miss her first line, but she pulls it together. "You came?"

"Obviously," he replies, laughing, his palms immediately cupping her cheeks. Mikasa's glad the camera isn't focused on her face — which has turned a humiliating shade of red. "You didn't think I'd really leave you behind, did you?"

Mikasa swallows. What was the line? She exhales, as propositioned, smiling, mustering up as much desperation in her tone as she can. "I don't know." This young actress has never been this nervous. "You seemed like you were in a pretty big hurry."

Here comes the most swoonworthy dialogue, the part that'll send Mikasa into cardiac arrest. Eren, or whatever his character's name is, draws her closer, their noses rubbing together. The cameras are almost intrusive now — just like they've always been in her screen tests, her daunting auditions, the technology recording her failure.

At Eren's advancing touches, Mikasa recalls another direction from the script — touch him. She nervously rests her shaky fingers on his waist, clutching his shirt. Eren Jaeger's shirt. His smell is intoxicating this close, subtle but unbelievably attractive. Potent. He continues.

"No. Never. C'mon, El. Can't leave you. You know I can't leave you. Don't give a damn about all that."

Without context, Mikasa has no idea what all that even means, but it's irrelevant. Eren has his hands grasping her face, ready to confess his deepest feelings. She swallows hard, clearing her throat.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. You'll wanna leave again. I can't keep you here."

Her delivery has a shakier quality to it than a professional actress might have, but Mikasa's just proud of herself for not melting to a puddle.

Eren, formidable in his role, just as strong as he looks on the silver screen, pushes her back until they've stumbled into the stone railing behind them — a totally improved move that catches Mikasa off guard, her breath hitching.

Before she can process anything, his lips are latched onto hers, hungrily, his character so desperate to prove his affections to this El girl. He tastes just as good as he has in Mikasa's most shameful dreams, the ones where she gets to do exactly what she's doing now, standing tall as Eren's co-star, the recipient of all his perfectly-acted kisses across an excessive number of takes.

Happy to indulge in this fantasy, Mikasa loses herself in the scene, determined to live up to the expectations placed onto her. She clutches onto Eren, brave enough to engage her mouth, providing her own energy to the kiss. Good God. I'm kidding Eren Jaeger. This is all real.

"Not going anywhere," Eren mewls, too convincing in his 'acting', slipping into this character with so little effort. His hands find Mikasa's thighs, squeezing as she's hoisted into his strong arms, legs with no destination but to wrap around his waist. "I need you. I need you."

Mikasa can't contain herself. Her poor heart is close to giving out, and her stomach flips and clenches and every tumultuous sensation between. She forgets this is a movie, on a set, surrounded by strangers watching them kiss.

One more line. "Stay here. Stay with me, please."

"I will, you goddamn, gorgeous idiot. I'm here."

They kiss longer — so much longer — until the immersion is decimated by the director calling cut, leaving Mikasa in the unfortunate reality where Eren swiftly drops her down to her feet. Through the megaphone, the director praises them — before asserting that they would return for a second, precautionary take.

"Hey," Eren starts, his regular, out-of-character tone somehow so different from his voice during shooting. He's more relaxed. Mikasa's used to this voice from all the interviews she's seen.

"Hi." She keeps her eyes averted, too flustered to even dare looking at him after that. He's famous. She's a nobody, wannabe actress that's stuck working a part-time throwaway job. Still, her awkward smile seems to endear her to him.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry for surprising you like that. Felt like it might help the scene." He sounds pleased with himself for concocting the idea. "I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

As if he couldn't get anymore perfect. He's a massive sweetheart, too, not some prima donna.

"No— not at all. It was— it was clever."

"You think so? I worried it might be too much."

She's unsure how to reassure him of the move's success without exposing her gigantic crush.

"I think the women watching will be happy."

Eren laughs and it's sublimely charming. "Well, then I'm happy with it. You're all hard to please."

Behind her back, Mikasa fidgets with her fingers, cracking her knuckles like crazy — anything to relieve the what-is-happening-right-now energy coursing through her bloodstream and incapable of exiting any of her brain's fixated thinking.

"Ah, well— I doubt you could disappoint them."

Instantly, she wants to slam her palm so hard into her forehead that it sends her flying. He doesn't need another weirdo fangirl. I've seen the comments on his Instagram. There's enough of those already. If he's annoyed, Eren conceals that frustration with ease, accepting the vote of confidence with a gracious simper.

"Thanks." He exhales deeply, finding his place beside her against the railing. "Are you an actress? How'd you get wrapped up in all this?"

Calling herself an actress in Eren's presence seems rather reductive of his talent. Mikasa shrugs, biting the inside of her cheeks. "Sorta? Not really. I'm— I'm trying to be, at least."

Eren smiles. "Have I seen anything you've done?"

He's much easier to talk to than someone like Marilyn Lawrence. He's more— more human.

"If you watched Avalon Harbor, you might've caught me in the background for a second. I think it was at 36:20, if you feel like double checking."

Pathetic as it sounds, her jokes makes Eren snort, and Mikasa considers that a win. "You know what, I'll have to give it a rewatch sometime."

A different production assistant brings them bottles of water while they wait to reconvene. There's a painful silence between them — a silence that Mikasa wishes to fill with a million questions about his acting, his roles, his journey from child clothes model to big screen cash cow.

Somehow, though, he's equally interested in her.

"So, Ms. Avalon Harbor, you didn't really answer my question. Where'd they find you?"

Mikasa sighs. Now he'll really know I'm a loser.

"The coffee shop down the street. I work there."

He laughs again. "I— I didn't expect that one."

Just as she's about to attempt another joke, anything to hear his pretty laugh again, the director cuts their conversation short, summoning the cast and crew back into position.

"It was nice to chat with you— Wait, what's your name? Just realized I have no idea."

She swallows, lump building in her throat. You're about to be on a first name basis. "Mikasa."

"Eren," he replies, a formality more than anything. "Maybe we'll get to work together again one day."

Don't get your hopes up, she tells herself. "I'm happy to just be in the audience, really."

He smiles as he backpedals back to his starting position, and that smile lingers on Mikasa's brain all the way until the director calls action.

Returning to her barista job after the previous day's events is harder than she anticipates. Getting a taste of a real actresses' life didn't quench that dream — it only thickened her thirst to be on more movie sets, to experience the thrill of producing something from nothing, to turn a script into a visual manifestation for audiences.

Kissing Eren Jaeger played a big part, obviously.

It's hard to keep her mind off their scenes while cleaning the counter during a lull in customers. Her eyes fixate onto the speckles hidden into the quartz countertop, utterly lost in a daydream, replaying the kiss in her head just like she's rewatched some of Eren's movies on repeat.

A gentle voice cuts through her folly.

"What do you recommend? I can't decide."

Startled, Mikasa gets ready to issue so many apologies for being so ditzy, so inattentive. The last thing she needs is a customer complaint.

When she catches the man's eyes, she's even more startled to see Eren standing there.

"Oh! It's you, I— I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"No need to apologize. Did I scare you?"

Behind Eren, some customers look up from their coffees to gawk at him — the penalty that comes with achieving some stardom (and the unfortunate consequences of being blessed with unnaturally beautiful cheekbones).

Mikasa laughs, flustered. Her cheeks give away just how unprepared she is for this encounter.

"A little, yeah. Thought I was gonna get an earful."

"Nope. Just wanted to stop by and see you."

See me? It's too good to be true.

"Uh, you did?" Mikasa chides herself. This flirting isn't very good, considering that their tongues were practically wrapped together just yesterday.

Eren leans across the counter, gushing his voice to avoid any pesky eavesdropping.

"Sure did. You're a fun co-star. That's rare these days. Plus, you're a pretty good kisser, too."

Instantly, Mikasa's hand covers her face, the redness flushed across her features too much to bear — Eren Jaeger likes my kissing. Me.

Undisturbed by her inability to accept his compliments with any decorum, Eren continues, glancing quickly at the clock on the wall.

"Do you have a break coming up? I'm done for the day. Thought we could go for a walk. If you want."

It's starting to dawn on her how quickly her life has been rocketed off its predicted trajectory because of a resemblance to another actress.

Is he actually asking me out? She hasn't felt this giddy in— well, since his last movie came out.

"I'm off in ten minutes, actually. I'd— I'd love to."

"Great. Then it's settled. I'll take you on a tour."

A lackluster shift becomes the second-best she's ever worked, just trailing behind yesterday's. She smiles so brightly, hard enough to hurt her cheeks, straining the muscles that she usually saves for pretending to tolerate customers.

"Do you still want that recommendation? I can make something for you while you wait."

He grins, amused. "Oh no, I don't like coffee. Just needed something cute to get your attention."

Unwilling to let her get the last laugh, Eren sticks a bill into the tip jar and slinks off to one of the tables, smiling at her from hidden his hand.

Mikasa blushes.

He might be a good actor, but he's just as terrible at hiding a crush as I am.

— (Hope you enjoyed reading! It would be so fun to imagine how they'll spend their walk and how their little courtship would develop into a relationship 🩷 eremika wholesome moment was very fun to write after so much angst!)

[ms-demeanor]

I don’t duck with predatory schools or cheap unaccredited courses/ capitalism/white washed alternative medicines… but does you beef with alternative practitioners extend to Eastern/ traditional medicinal practices as a whole? Like you don’t think herbalism or acupuncture have healing capabilities?

I am deeply, deeply skeptical of nearly all alternative medicine, but you are unlikely to find anyone who says there are no benefits to most types of alternative medicine. (I'll say it about chiropractic and homeopathy though - there's nothing that a chiropracter can do for you that a physical therapist or massage therapist can't do better and more safely, and homeopathy won't do anything except possibly poison more infants)

However, here's the problem with that:

Acupuncture appears to have fairly reliable effects that are not explained by the placebo effect for things like pain relief, anxiety, and depression, and may also help with disorders relating to those things (insomnia and asthma, for instance). But you should not stop taking your asthma medications because you are being treated for asthma with acupuncture because if you are asthmatic, deciding "oh, my asthma [which treatable, but not curable] is cured!]" and throwing away your rescue inhaler can kill you.

Herbal remedies may be comforting for some people, and may have some effects, but it is dangerous to use, for instance, St. John's Wort to treat depression because it is impossible to standardize a dose of St. John's Wort in something like a tea or an extract, and supplements are not regulated in the US so it is impossible to know *what* dose you're getting in a St. John's Wort supplement.

Many people find chiropractic to be a reasonable means of pain relief, and I'm not going to pretend that their pain isn't reduced from chiropractic treatment, but literally hundreds of studies suggest that for the things that chiropractic has any reliable measurable effect on (musculoskeletal pain) you are going to get better treatment from a massage therapist or a physical therapist.

Ayurvedic medicine has a long history of things like surgeries including cataract surgyery and cauterization to treat bleeding, which do actually work! However ayurvedic medicine also often includes consumption of harmful materials like heavy metals alongside herbs that may have actual medical benefits, or practices like oil pulling, which do absolutely nothing.

Chinese Traditional Medicine may have some useful treatments, but is also associated with things like lead poisoning.

Use of Kava as an herbal alternative pain treatment was linked to a spate of people having liver failure. Kava does work to treat pain, it just also causes liver failure at completely unacceptable rates and at completely unknown doses.

So I don't think that alternative medicines are uniformly awful. Some stuff seems to work okay, and there is some stuff that is very unlikely to cause harm even if it doesn't actually heal.

But, hoo boy, herbalism has *immense* capacity to harm (because it is difficult to ensure accurate dosing, because herbal medications may interfere with allopathic medications, because it is difficult to avoid contaminants and easy to make mistakes with preparations in herbal medicine), which is made worse when people choose herbalism in place of other treatments. There are a thousand horror stories of people using black salve (a caustic substance that is used to treat tumors by chemically burning them off) to treat breast cancer, which is only marginally more horrifying than people who chose to forego cancer treatment in favor of herbalism.

And I'm not particularly in the business of telling people what to do, but I am someone with chronic illnesses who has had alternative treatments proposed to me in place of recognized best practices and I understand that for people with a new or frightening diagnosis it is easy to fall victim to a confident person who is offering 'treatment' at a lower cost and with more hands-on care than an overworked specialist who doesn't take your shitty insurance. Because of that I think that it is often safer to assume that alternative treatments are at best unproven and to start treating medical conditions with allopathic medicine and to use alternative treatments alongside of allopathic medicine (with the full knowledge of your medical team - a lot of "detoxifying" alternative medicines work by making all of your medications ineffective!)

And even if you're going to be using herbalism or acupuncture to treat someone and doing so in conjunction with proven treatments, I still think it's important for the practitioner of alternative medicine to be intellectually curious and scientifically educated enough to recognize when their treatments aren't working; if you have cheerfully taken a course in chiropractic and homeopathy as part of your alternative medicine degree, that does not suggest that you are being given a rigorous, evidence-based education in herbalism or acupuncture by the school that provided the homeopathy class!

It's like if you were getting a degree in engineering and had to take a class on the physics of the time cube in order to graduate. Time Cube Theory 204 cancels out Advanced Fluid Dynamics! Time Cube Theory 204 calls into question the validity of all your other classes! Time Cube Theory 204 is a major alarm bell, and if that didn't chase you out of the building you shouldn't be trusted to build a dam!

[hanafarook]

"Poetry Was Always Evolutionary"

I always held a deep seated angst about poetry being a dying artform and me   honing my skills in the said dying artform.

The more waves of constant technological upgrade and fast paced lives that required less and less attention span came about, the more convinced I was and (wholeheartedly even) that I was on a tragic cruise ship bound to sink much like titanic. 

I could've been an artist who painted or something that engaged people long enough but noooo I had the sheer audacity to run around like a bull in a Spanish festival aka I was too charged with the fervor of old fashion ideas of literature and writing. 

There was no going back, if you're knee deep sinking in a quicksand, flailing your hands around is an even quicker way of upgrading your demise but of course if you couldn't stop Matthew McConaughey from his interstellar trip, you most certainly couldn't stop me. 

I, of course didn't realize the tragic quicksand-titanic trip until much later on and when I did it was too late to back out anyway. So I wanted to make it work like a mad scientist in a science fiction movie.

Poetry was kryptonite, it was both poison and medicine. It opened and sewed wounds, sunk people to its depths and also kept them afloat. The question isn't What was poetry? Where was poetry? The question is, what wasn't left untouched by it?  Everything that ever existed in this world and everything that could exist at any point in this world was all poetry and it was everywhere in every form.

Numbers were poetry, words were poetry, colors were poetry, sounds were poetry and the absence of those were also poetry.  All the ways of living and All the ways of dying were poetry - All tangible and intangible was poetry.  

That poetry changed so much throughout time and still carried with it, its essence that It moved people and created movements that were powerful enough to shake nations and bring the ordinary to the streets making it an extraordinary moment of history

That poetry scared me. 

It was a wave that took everyone and everything along with it, that wave was what engulfed me after which whether I was drowning or floating I wasn't the same again.  

All I ever thought was how poetry was going to die on me like a friend dies on you in a crucial moment in a zombie movie 

Come to think of it, poetry is either tardigrades or like hammerhead worms, somehow it just doesn't die and for the record, thinking that maybe artists were in a far better place than writers turned out to be somewhat wrong.  With, I'd like to call it, “the invasion of Ai” everyone that had any creative dwelling was doomed. 

What google bard would have the emotional capacity of …well, an emotionally wrecked Sylvia Plath ? What chatgpt could paint the madness of Picasso?  No matter how far and the speed with which we're catapulting into the future - I have hopes that poetry and Art  will evolve rapidly and exist like the science fiction tardigrade it is. 

(Ps: tardigrades are real, don't be stupid! And cute if you squint through a microscope.)

- Haná Farook, "Poetry Was Always Evolutionary"

[wxnheart]

Hello. Unsure if you're taking requests but, I'm currently experiencing a good amount of pain,, and I'd love to read something about any of the elden ring characters taking care of a chronically ill partner. I'd like to see varre, malenia, or marika but honestly anything would nice.

I hope you have good day! :)

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐫é

Despite his obligation to Mohg, Varré is still a doctor at heart.

As such, he will dedicate his free time to taking care of you.

He'd much rather you stay in bed than move around. If you have to, he'll be your shadow to make sure nothing happens.

Varré doesn't take kindly to your being a bad patient lambkin. When he says rest, you rest. When it's time to take the medicine that tastes nasty but is perfectly good for you, you take it. Doctor's orders.

And if you've been a good patient, you'll get a wonderful treat of nighttime cuddles.

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

No. You cannot suffer. He will not allow it.

When he's not attending to his duties as King, Morgott will be by your side. In fact, it isn't uncommon to find him working by your bedside.

He'll summon the best doctors the Lands Between has to offer in order to make sure you're well taken care of.

Of course, he underestimates his capacity to care for you but he tries his best.

He'll also use some home remedies that he learned growing up and taking care of Mohg. Yeah, they may be a bit rudimentary (as far as he's concerned) but they do the trick in making you comfortable.

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 (𝐋𝐨𝐛𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲?!)

Don't count her out just yet; she may not have the medical expertise Varrè possesses but she knows her way around some medicinal herbs.

With Lobo's help, she'll bring back the choicest catch or the best herbs in order to make you feel better.

She'll prepare a nice, hearty meal for you.

Lobo will be the goodest of boys and keep you company. Yes, please give him pats and scritches. And a piece of meat.

Latenna will also humor you with tales of her exploits and of her life to help the time pass by.

𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭

She learned a thing or two from Gowry when it comes to caring for oneself.

Tries her best to make sure you're comfortable.

Is the caregiver who'll go out and procure supplies and food for you.

Of course, the most discomforting part about this is that whenever you get sick, she distances herself from you out of fear that she played a role in your ailment. As such, she won't said food and supplies to you directly but she'll make sure you get it.

No matter how much you assure her, she'll only thank you and proceed to remain out of arm's reach.

[ludiharambasha]

My uncle is a diabetic with heart problems. His heart works at around 30% capacity. Last time he was at the hospital, his haemoglobin levels were at around 3.5. His skin was close to transparent. He was dying. This doctor (a general surgeon I think), who is also a member of our parlaiment, saw my mother beg him to take him in, only for this man to turn his back to chat with a nurse. His surname, which I'm not going to drop here for obvious reasons, is really ironic, as its etymological root is the word "dobro", which means "good".

And this idea of goodness and the medical field is something I want to dissect here. When I see people glorify medical professionals or associate them with kindness, I get furious, on a deeply personal level, as well as a cognitive one. There is nothing inherently kind about working in the medical field or healing. A construction worker creates housing and a baker creates food, but we don't glorify these professions for their "kindness" for creating goods that are seen as necessities, do we?

That is because, in a capitalist society, when a baker makes bread, they operate on the premise that not everyone will be able to afford the bread. They may be the working class, but they get their wage for both creating the good and making sure that the good of the capitalist that employs them makes profit. All professions that provide similar services function like this.

A medical professional is no different, regardless of whether they work in private or public healthcare. They provide healthcare on the premise that either you're going to pay them, or that you are on some form of health insurance/healthcare program or whatever system is in place. If you don't have money to pay for the service or you are not insured/on a healthcare program or not in the system, well. You might as well die. I have experienced this as an immigrant in Slovenia, as I don't have a right to insurance (I only have one from my country that covers emergencies), and I needed medication to stop menstrual bleeding which lasted for almost two months, after I ran out of the staah I brought from home. Instead of getting the medicine (which costs 1.5 euros in MNE, with no perscription), I got a 20min lecture on how those are hOrmOnEs and shit, and because I was not in the system or had a perscription from a doctor, I could not get it (something I wasn't aware of as the situation is very different back home, and also up to the fact that up until recently my gynecologist didn't take me seriously and refused to perscribe me medication for PCOS or even diagnose it). It was during the summer, and were it up to her, I could have bled out to death.

The medical field is awful in this regard, because of the prestige the profession gets. A medical professional is typically paid very well (while the working class is typically poor and exploited). They are providing a service just like any other employed person in a capitalist society. They are not saving lives out of the goodness of their hearts (and more often than not they're not saving anyone really), but for a wage. They are not volunteers. They have a significant amount of power, as they have a certain amount of "control" over whether a person in their care lives or dies. And if it never crossed your mind that having such power is open to all kinds of abuse, then you are painfully naive. Doctors, depending on whether they are in a country with privatised healthcare or public healthcare, are either capitalists or agents of the state.

[theofficersacademy]

                                 Delthea   Sain   Forde   Kris (M)                        Soren   Leonardo   Lianna   Micaiah   Python                               Griss   Mark   Sylvain   Sigurd   Azama

TEAM TAG: #AOpi2024 WEEK TWO

You've been traveling for some time - and yet, simultaneously, no time at all.

(To some of you, it proves a familiar sensation. To others, merely disquieting.)

The caves are daunting in their seemingly endless capacity. Food and water are strangely scarce, whether you move forward or back. You tighten your belts. You move forward because at this point, going back doesn't make any sense.

Besides, you're with family - whatever that means to you in the moment.

When you trudge at long last unto your destination, with the last of your torches sputtering out, it is with hunger and thirst in your bellies, one and all - but you make it, for better or worse. The sign announcing the village of Ruthalia half hangs from the stone arch at the entrance. It creaks. It creaks, and it is the only thing you can hear aside from the occasional echo of an eerie moan - a breeze blowing in from some tunnel, most likely.

There were meant to be people here, folks known for their generosity. Keranes and Celephais had hoped they might shelter and welcome the remaining few of you.

They had hoped that you would all be safe here.

But there is no one here.

WHAT YOU KNOW

Ruthalia, at present, may be a ghost town, but it is your current best shot at getting back on your feet, and perhaps a good chance at getting back on track. You are, after all, here on a mission to find and corner the enemy, she who has been upending much of Fódlan with her illusions.

The sleepy village seems harmless, at first.

Moon and sunlight peek in through a crack in the cavern ceiling.

Surely there must be a reason you've been drawn here specifically. . .

WHAT TO DO

Survival is suddenly less of a pressing issue. There is a river with clean water and fish. Livestock and abundant plant life. It may take some time, but you'll get yourself back to feeling 100% soon, you're sure of it. Still, it can't hurt to stockpile a little bit just in case, right?

Food

Your have four chickens. Two goats. A handful of other small creatures. A few gardens, each overgrown. Fish. Your fellow villagers still don't approve of you eating meat (doesn't it make you feel ill?) but to each their own, one supposes.

Roll 1d10 for every post after your starter. Starting with your third post (including your starter), with every other post, add +1 to your d10 +1 counter resets after +5 1-8: +1 food (your choice of plant, insect, fish, or otherwise) 9-10+: ping key

Medicine

You all made it to the village in one piece, but some of you arrived in better shape than others. Brizo has come down with a fever. Euphorie spends her days fretting over him or quietly whispering with Electra. They have taken up residence in what appears to have been a doctor's home. They don't mind others making use of the place, though. (Unless your name starts with a 'G' or a 'Leo.')

Roll 1d3 for every post. Every successful combination of 1, 2, and 3 across separate posts (within the same thread) will yield one reward. A Faith Rank C+ being present will grant a diminishing chance of doubling your reward. (1d2 = 1, and then 1d3 = 1, and then 1d4, and so on)

Settling In

There are eight buildings up for grabs, including the aforementioned doctor's home. It's time to stake your claim, make yourselves comfortable for the as-yet undefined duration of your stay. Perhaps you might be inclined to fashion some decorations, make it feel a bit more like home?

Roll 1d10 for every post after your starter. Starting with your third post (including your starter), with every post, add +1 to your d10 +1 counter resets after +5 1-8: carry on 9-10+: ping key

Explore

Peaceful though it may be, you of course know better than to assume. The wind always seems to pick up at night, and sometimes it sounds almost as though it is carrying the voices of people on it. Where are the people who were supposed to be here?

Maybe you're opting to patrol. Maybe you want to go make friends with the animals. Maybe you'd like to map out the paths leading to and from the village. Or maybe you'd like to go somewhere out of the way to address any issues you may or may not have with your teammates. There is much and more to do.

Roll 1d10 for every post after your starter. Starting with your third post (including your starter), with every post, add +1 to your d10 +1 counter resets after +5 1-8: carry on 9-10+: ping key

IMPORTANT NOTES

Apollyon Ouranos is intended to be mostly driven by the players unless otherwise stated. The above prompts are intended first and foremost as a setting to play in. You are not expected to spend every single post going 'oh i found a mushroom. yay. +1 for me.' Focus on bonding with your teammates!

Short replies are encouraged. At the moment, there is no set time limit for replying, but players who are absent should be skipped accordingly. Be sure to communicate with your team in chat.

IC failure should not be taken to mean your narrative is doomed.

A word on NPCs: If I am available and have spoons, I may provide NPC interaction - however, at present, NPCs are fair game to be played with much as you would use an NPC within a regular non-event thread. You should, outside of paralogues or asks, have at least one accompanying you in your thread.

Team Pi's team doc! Please do use it to take notes, keep track of materials, and overall jot down any important information to share with the team. Failure to do so may incur IC consequences. . .

Ping Mod Key for questions or additional info.

[julien5-malfunction]

13022023 Thoughts about inprisonment, the end of the world and a game called Pathologic.

I think the main reason I sort of miss being locked up in the mental ward are the boredom and the lack of things.

Being so bored, I would start to do things that I normally wouln't, just to entertain myself. Inventing shit out of whatever little resources I could find. I didn't feel bad for wasting so much time on such 'non-productive things' after all, with no knowlige of my release date, I had nothing to do but to kill time. I read books and solve puzzles, hunt down the newspaper of the day and try to solve a crossword or a sudoku. Draw the landscape I could see from the windows of my captivity. Keep track of things in my diary. The most fun was stealing pens and other small items, like a loose playing card, maybe some beads or other craft supplies if I had access to such. Collecting empty pill cups. Dead bugs. Evaluate and mock the painting in the hall. Snatch tea bags and sugar cubes from the caffeteria...

Normal life is so 'pretend to be busy' all the time. Fuck this multitasking bs, it's killing my attention span and focus. I used to be so much better than this... I'm a disappointment to myself, in the way I've lost all that capacity I had. I had endless ideas and a parrion to create, even when I had no materials, no resources, no money as a kid/as a teenager. I stole stuff from school, things that they had an aboundage of but I had way more use for than they would ever have. Collecting scraps and things I found on the streets... I miss that.

I just watched a video about this game called Pathologic. The video was over 2 hours long, no ads, I was planning on multitasking but I'm glad I didn't. I sat trough it fairly calmly, I didn't worry about 'running out of time, I should be sleeping'. I feel more calm than usual... The game also makes a great deal about resource scarecity and -management. The athmosphere feels, to me at least, cut off from the rest of the world. There is this inpending doom, this illness spreading. There is just something about that, that scrathes an itch. The game is really long too, and most of the time you're stuck with your thoughts while walking around to take care of tasks. One of the main characters is able to brew medicine out of herbs and you can find and trade around shit like needles and bottles, ammo, food and flowers or whatever... There is just something about that...

Like why...am I making this so complicated to myself? Can I just keep life simple like that? I have a lot of things I most likely do not need. I know I have an issue of getting too sentimental over all sorts of misc items. Can they just be items. Things I can 'trade', for money. Not things with feelings attached. I'm not sure why it's so hard to let go of things, material or mental.

I get some kind of kicks out of the thought of being doomed. Like, I feel fine now but something is coming for me and it's bad. I know I'm not strong or smart in a way that is too useful in today's society, but resourceful is something I would like to be. Independent, as in 'know how to fix your own car if it breaks'. (car as an example. I don't own a car)

Like it's so fascinating, to think of a life as a survival game... Where you can collect things and craft other thing from those things. Living alone is resource management. Money can be used to purchase things from stores. I wish I knew more ways to make money, my comissions are kind of an underground thing but reciving a few hard earned euros feels about as good if not better than the next big hit of dopamine from doom scrolling. Really makes you think carefully about how you're gonna spend those few euros. I even keep seperate the money I've actually earned and the benefits I live off of. Since I don't actually have any other income. I wish I knew how to earn some more underground credit...

I was thinking that, since I 'owe myself a loan' and I'm really struggling to scrape any extra savings to pay it off, maybe I should have like a super low budget for anything else than food and necessities and bills. Like a rediculously low amount. 10��� a week? I didn't even have weekly allowance as a kid, that sounds like a lot in a way but yeah... but how do I define nessecities?... are, for example, plastic bags a nessecity or not? Or clothes?

Probably better idea to stick to the goal of ~60€ a week for food and necessities, add the 10€ to that but the 10€ can be spent on treats and other, not-absolutely-necessary, most likely seacond hand shop stuff and art supplies, even tho I have enough and more than I have use for currently....

I'll need to think about it in action.

[brightgnosis]

Resending this as an actual ask to do it right this time 😅

I see from following you for a while that gardening is something that's really important to you. What first got you into gardening/why is it so meaningful to you specifically?

Haha, you're fine! I've been into plants literally for as long as I could remember; I grew up in a trailer in a little rural agricultural town, on a tiny little acre and a half family farm with Chickens, Horses, and the like.

My first memory of "gardening" is finding a seed packet of Carrots among my mother's things, and planting them out beside the trailer, by the porch. None of them came up, but I was enamored by the tiny little things; I have no idea how old I was.

My Sister and I used to "play Doctor"- a game where she'd be the "Patient" (usually because she scraped her knee on something), and I'd go gather Pokeberry, Wild Pea, and other random things from the yard, and make a mud poultice out of it for her wounds, ha; in hindsight, someone should've told me that a lot of the plants I was gathering were Poisonous. But my parents didn't really actually know anything about the land- and my Mother detested everything about Oklahoma, anyways.

I started studying Herbal Medicine when I was 11, through whatever resources I could find. Paid for my first real class when I was 15, after I got my first job. Wrote my first book about it when I was in my early 20's, living in Tulsa. The irony about that, though, was that I didn't actually have the ability to truly start gardening for myself until I moved to Tulsa when I was 20 to 21.

I wasn't good at it at all. Nothing grew for me. And the neighbor- a Master Gardener, of all things- laughed at me rather than helping me in any legitimate capacity. But I didn't know what I was doing anyways ... So I ripped it all up (a lot of other things happened, too, that made me give up Herbal Medicine at the time, as well).

I didn't try again until 2015 / 2016, after my now-Husband and I married and moved into our own place back in my Hometown. Things grew a lot better that year. Found out I could grow a lot of things really well, actually. And I started studying gardening the way I had Herbalism. I also became a Civilian Conservationist during that period (until I became disabled shortly after) and started a project on Native Plants. I learned about Land Stewardship and Ecology. I planted a bunch of trees. And I found out what a Master Gardener was and decided that was what I wanted to be one day.

When we moved back in with my In-Laws and abandoned that house, I took everything I'd learned with me to a much larger space. More than I've ever had before in my life. And I did what I wanted to do: I became a Master Gardener. I'm retraining in my Herbalism again, too. And I'm working on Rosarian training- even if I may never actually be able to become a Rosarian because there's no Rose Clubs in my area (and membership in one's a requirement for the official certification unfortunately).

It's meaningful to me because I get to co-participate with HaShem in the act of creation. It connects me to Adam and Chava, and Gan Eden. And I get to do what my Ancestors have been doing for centuries- eons, even; it makes my soul sing, and my bones vibrate. It reminds me of the beauty of the universe, even when all my brain can think of is the darkness. It reminds me that I am part of the Earth, and turns my attention to the greater things in the Universe. And it brings me out of myself and into communion with Community ... There are so many reasons.

[huntunderironskies]

What do you think of princess the hopeful?

Ah. I'd been afraid this day would come.

I have to be honest, I don't like talking about my thoughts on fangames in any specific capacity. Mostly because it's free labor people are doing and a lot of people are very obviously passionate about Princess. It's the only fangame I know of to get multiple supplements, but I have been out of the loop for a while so maybe that's changed.

The thing is getting critique can suck, especially on something you're proud of. There's not a lot of creative professionals (or hobbyists, for that matter) I know who enjoy receiving it even when they know it will make things better. Which it does! I would not have gotten to the point I did without having professional critique. It's sort of like medicine where it's impossible to make taste good but it is also something that has to be done to get better and feel better about your writing in the long run. Editors are one hundred percent necessary for any professional project and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise, and editing is its own creative skill. I'm not someone with the capability to critique prose (writing prose has always been my weakness, I'm one of those weird people who likes technical writing) but I can't really turn of mechanics brain so I'm fine with doing that bit and it tends to happen kind of subconsciously.

But when I'm writing for a project I'm also getting paid to have that happen and I think it's in poor taste to do it to someone who's working purely out of passion unless they are explicitly asking for just that. It feels like walking in on someone's homegame (as a non-player) and complaining about their GMing style or whatever have you. They're just trying to have fun and share something they think is fun with other people.

So, the short of it is (which I might as well say given it's clear I have thoughts that aren't entirely positive) that I've never really incorporated any aspects of it (or any other fangame, for that matter...except for maybe Genius but it never got a 2e version and I physically cannot make myself play 1e now) into my own games and I can't see myself doing so in the future. This includes the one I tried making for a while and, well, I was the one making it. There are a lot of reasons why but the paragraph above is primarily why I'd rather not go too deep into it. I have been developing this opinion over the past...dangerously close to ten years now so it's not really possible to change my mind on it, apologies.

[thewitchywitch]

Nervous about using a sigil

I’ve recently been learning about sigils as I saw something about them online and they really called to me and interested me alot. I’ve done a bit of research and I really wanna try it but im kinda nervous..I feel like I shouldnt been controlling my life like that?

Idk how to explain it exactly but, I wanted to make a sigil to give me motivation to write more frequently but I wasnt sure if I should do it because how would I know im a good writer or set a good writing routine if im using a sigil yk?

Or, I wanted to make a sigil to help me focus in school but ive also started taking adhd meds and how will I know if they work if im using a sigil as well? Idk those are the kinda worrys im having rn and id love some insight.

Thank you!

Hey anon!

I understand your worries behind sigil magic, so I'm going to address them from my own personal perspective.

Using a sigil for motivation doesn't mean that you're not a good writer, just like how using a sigil for creativity doesn't mean you're not naturally creative. We all go through periods where we're not exactly at our full capacity, and that's normal. Using a sigil doesn't detract from your natural or inherent abilities.

When it comes to your medicine, try going a few weeks without any magic related to focus so you can be sure that your medicine is working as intended. Follow all the advice your prescribing physician is giving you. Once you know everything is working as intended, then you can try using a focus sigil whenever you need a bit of extra attention, like during tests for example.

You're able to make big changes to your life however you choose and however you see most fit. If that includes sigils, great! If not, that's fine too! It's normal to be nervous when you're first getting into magic of any kind, but don't pressure yourself into doing anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?

I hope this helps! Feel free to send another ask if you need to :)

[ourmobilelifeguru-blog]

Stay Safe and Visible with the Best Reflective Running Vests of 2024

The Amphipod Xinglet Optic Beam Vest tops the list of reflective running vests in 2024. This vest's design focuses on 360-degree reflectivity, that assures you maximum visibility even when lights are dim. A detail not to be missed is its lightweight and adjustable fit that accommodates different body sizes comfortably. Moreover, this vest steps up visibility with bright LED lights, promising superior safety during your running sessions. Now, let's dive into why this makes a difference before you go for a run.

When purchasing a running vest, it's important to consider features such as breathability, storage capacity for water and other essentials, reflective elements for visibility during low-light conditions, and a comfortable fit that allows freedom of movement. These features are essential in ensuring that the running vest meets your specific needs while providing comfort and safety during your runs.

Our Top Running Vest Pick

When it comes to staying safe while running, visibility is critical. The Amphipod Xinglet Optic Beam Vest is our top choice for a reflective running vest in 2024. Designed with 360-degree reflectivity, this vest ensures maximum visibility in low-light conditions, making it an excellent choice for early morning or evening runs.

What sets the Xinglet Optic Beam Vest apart is its thoughtful design. The 360-degree reflectivity provides visibility from all angles, allowing runners to stay noticeable in any setting. Whether running along a busy city street or a dimly lit park trail, this vest ensures that you can be easily seen by drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians.

In addition to its reflective properties, the Xinglet Optic Beam Vest offers a comfortable and customizable fit. Its lightweight construction and adjustable straps cater to various body sizes, making it suitable for a wide range of runners. The last thing any runner wants during their workout is to feel restricted or weighed down by their gear, and this vest certainly delivers on comfort and flexibility.

Moreover, the vest features bright LED lights that further enhance visibility. The combination of traditional reflective material and LED lights make the wearer stand out even more in low-light conditions. This additional feature ensures that runners are not only visible but also easily noticed by others sharing the road or trail.

Remember, when it comes to finding the right running gear, safety should always come first. The Amphipod Xinglet Optic Beam Vest stands out as an exceptional choice for its comprehensive approach to visibility and safety.

In your quest for safety during outdoor runs, selecting the right reflective running vest is crucial—the Amphipod Xinglet Optic Beam Vest is designed to provide you with confidence, knowing you are highly visible and well-protected.

Benefits of Wearing Reflective Vests

When you're out for a run, particularly during early mornings or late evenings when natural light is limited, being visible to others—whether it's vehicles sharing the road or other runners around you—is crucial. Reflective vests play a key role in ensuring your visibility and safety during these low-light conditions.

Increased Visibility

Picture yourself on a peaceful evening run, with the sun setting in the distance. As light diminishes, your visibility to others decreases as well. But with a reflective vest, it's like having your own personal spotlight. The reflective materials bounce back light from car headlights, street lamps, and even the distant glow of other runners' gear, making sure you're noticed by everyone around you. This essential function reduces the risk of accidents by increasing your visibility and making your presence known to others sharing the road or path.

Safety in Low-Light Conditions

Reflective vests aren't just about being seen; they're about staying safe too. A study published in the Journal of Sports Science & Medicine found that wearing reflective vests increased visibility by 70% compared to non-reflective clothing. Additionally, the American Journal of Preventive Medicine reported that wearing reflective gear reduced the risk of accidents by 55% during low-light conditions. This added safety can be vital when running near roads or along dimly lit paths where the risk of collision is higher.

Compliance with Safety Regulations

In some regions, wearing reflective gear during low-light hours is not just a matter of personal choice—it's actually a legal requirement. These regulations are put in place to ensure the safety of runners and reduce the likelihood of accidents. By wearing a reflective vest, you not only protect yourself but also adhere to these important safety measures.

So remember, whether you're hitting the roads or trails at dawn or dusk, a reflective vest isn't just an accessory—it's an essential tool for enhancing your visibility and ensuring your safety. It's like having a shield of light that protects and alerts those around you to your presence when natural light is fading away.

As we continue our exploration into running vests, let's now focus on the crucial features that make up the cornerstone of these safety essentials.

Must-Have Features in a Running Vest

As you embark on finding the perfect running vest, there are some essential features that can greatly enhance your comfort and safety during your runs. Let's delve into these key features:

Reflective Material

When it comes to visibility during low-light conditions, reflective material is crucial. A good quality running vest should have ample reflective material strategically placed to provide visibility from all angles. Think of it as your own personal spotlight, ensuring that you're easily seen by traffic and other runners from a distance. Look for vests with reflective strips on the front, back, and sides, as well as along the shoulders to maximize your visibility.

Lightweight and Breathable Fabric

A running vest should not only keep you visible but also ensure that you stay comfortable during your run. This is where lightweight and breathable fabric comes into play. The fabric of the vest should be constructed to allow air circulation and prevent overheating, especially during intense physical activities like running. Look for vests made with moisture-wicking materials that draw sweat away from your body, keeping you dry and comfortable throughout your workout.

For example, the use of quick-drying mesh panels in some vests enhances breathability and allows heat to escape, thus regulating your body temperature.

Adjustable Straps

The fit of your running vest is paramount for both comfort and safety. Adjustable straps ensure a snug and secure fit for various body shapes and sizes. Look for vests with adjustable straps around the waist and shoulders to customize the fit according to your specific body shape. It's important that the vest fits comfortably without restricting your movements or causing chafing during long runs.

By paying attention to these key features in a running vest, you can ensure that your runs are not only safer but also more comfortable. These features work together to provide you with confidence, visibility, and ease of movement—the perfect combination for an enjoyable and secure running experience.

As you gear up for a comfortable and safe running experience, let's now explore how adjusting for comfort with strategically designed straps and pockets can further enhance your outings.

Adjusting for Comfort: Straps and Pockets

When it comes to staying comfortable on your runs, having the right running vest with adjustable straps is vital. Imagine strapping on your vest and embarking on a long run without being able to customize the fit according to your body shape and the layers of clothing you have on. It might shift around, causing unnecessary distractions and discomfort throughout your entire run. However, with a vest featuring adjustable straps, you're able to create a snug, secure fit that provides freedom of movement without any annoying loosening or chafing.

Adjustable straps are like having your very own tailor for your running gear. They also allow you to adapt your vest for different types of workouts and even different weather conditions. For example, in colder weather, you may want to wear more layers underneath the vest, and being able to adjust the straps ensures a proper fit each time. Similarly, when it's warmer outside and fewer layers are needed, you can easily make the necessary adjustments for a more breathable and comfortable experience.

Customizing Fit

Adjustable straps provide the flexibility to make the vest as snug or loose as required, ensuring a personalized and tailored fit for every run.Imagine having the ability to fine-tune your running vest like adjusting the strap on a backpack - ensuring it's just right so that it doesn't sway around or restrict your movements.

Now let's talk about pockets. A running vest with ample pockets is like having an extra set of hands during your run. These pockets provide convenient storage for essentials like keys, energy gels, or even your phone—eliminating the need for an extra bag.

Pockets are practical and ensure everything you need is within easy reach during your run. Instead of fumbling around trying to find where you put your car key while jogging through the park, you can simply reach into one of the pockets secured on your vest.

Convenience

Ample pockets in a running vest offer hassle-free access to essentials during runs, eliminating distractions and maintaining focus.Just picture yourself effortlessly reaching into one of the strategically located pockets on your running vest for an energy gel when you need that mid-run boost or quickly accessing your phone for an important call without missing a stride.These two features - adjustable straps and ample pockets - not only contribute to enhancing comfort during runs but also elevate overall convenience, ensuring all essential items are readily accessible without any discomfort or distraction.

With comfort and convenience at the forefront of reflective running vests' design features, understanding the safety enhancements in terms of reflective versus LED lights provides a deeper insight into optimizing visibility during runs.

Safety Enhancements: Reflective vs. LED Lights

When it comes to staying safe while running, visibility is paramount—especially in low-light conditions. Let's delve into the two main safety features found in running vests: reflective material and LED lights.

Reflective Material

Traditional reflective vests use materials that bounce off headlights, making the wearer more visible to others. These materials are designed to reflect light back to its source, whether it's from a car's headlights or streetlights, effectively increasing visibility by up to 200 meters in low-light conditions. This passive feature helps make runners noticeable even without an active light source.

However, these reflective materials excel at visibility in low-light conditions but rely on the presence of external light sources to be effective. So if you're running in areas with minimal ambient light, like wooded trails or dimly lit roads, a reflective vest might not provide the level of visibility needed for safety. This is where LED lights come into play.

LED Lights

Vests equipped with LED lights offer an active illumination source, enhancing visibility and making the runner more noticeable in low-light or dark conditions. These lights can be visible from a distance of up to 400 meters, significantly extending the range at which the runner can be seen by others. Unlike reflective materials, LED lights do not depend on external light sources for visibility—they actively emit light and make the wearer more conspicuous, regardless of the surrounding lighting conditions.

Furthermore, LED lights come with different modes, including steady light and flashing modes, providing additional options for enhancing visibility based on the specific running environment and lighting conditions. The ability to switch between these modes allows runners to adapt their visibility levels according to their needs and preference.

So when choosing between reflective material and LED lights, consider your regular running routes and the typical time of day you run. If you often find yourself running in areas with minimal lighting or during times of low natural light (such as early morning or late evening), a running vest with LED lights might offer more comprehensive visibility benefits compared to traditional reflective vests.

Both reflective material and LED lights are designed to increase your visibility while running in low-light conditions. Each offers unique benefits catering to different running environments and lighting situations. Understanding these features will help you make an informed choice based on your specific safety and visibility needs during your runs.

How to Choose the Right Vest for You

When selecting the best reflective running vest for your needs, it's essential to consider more than just picking a random one off the shelf. It requires thoughtful evaluation of your running habits, personal comfort, and specific requirements to ensure your safety while on the road.

Consider Your Running Environment

Where and when you run significantly influences which reflective running vest will work best for you. If you often jog during low-light hours or in areas with heavy traffic, a vest with enhanced reflectivity is crucial. Conversely, if you frequently enjoy bright daylight runs, a vest with moderate reflectivity may suffice. Assessing your running environment helps in choosing the most suitable vest tailored to your unique needs.

Furthermore, assessing the kind of terrain you usually run on can also influence your choice. Are you a trail runner or a street runner? Different environments have different lighting conditions and potential hazards. The vest should account for these conditions accordingly, ensuring visibility and safety are optimized for your specific running setting.

Personal Comfort

Running is all about comfort—especially when you're pushing yourself to go further. Therefore, prioritizing comfort when choosing a reflective running vest is absolutely essential. Look for vests with adjustable features such as straps or buckles that allow you to customize the fit according to your body shape and size. Additionally, breathable materials ensure that the vest feels natural and comfortable to wear during long runs, preventing any discomfort or irritation.

Consider trying out the vest before purchasing it if possible. Move around in it—swing your arms, do some squats—it might feel silly, but it’s worth it! Making sure it doesn't ride up or chafe in certain spots will save you a lot of trouble later on during your runs.

Also, be mindful of any potential hotspots or areas that could rub against your skin after extended periods. A seamless design or strategically placed seams can minimize chafing and ensure an overall comfortable experience during your runs.

By considering both safety prerequisites and personal comfort, you'll be able to select a reflective running vest that’s perfectly tailored to meet your running needs and keep you visible and safe on every run.

As you lace up your shoes and prepare for another invigorating run, let's delve into addressing your queries about the best reflective running vests, ensuring that every step you take is guided by informed choices remaining visible and safe.

Answering Your Running Vest Queries

One important aspect of investing in a reflective running vest is understanding how to properly maintain it. After all, these vests are more than just gear; they're an essential safety tool. Regular maintenance ensures longevity and effectiveness. One of the most effective ways to maintain a reflective running vest is through gentle handwashing. It's essential to use a mild detergent or soap solution, avoiding harsh chemicals or bleach that may degrade the reflective properties of the vest.

It's crucial to remember that harsh abrasives can damage the fabric, so opt for a soft-bristled brush or sponge. Avoid wringing out the vest as this could cause damage to the reflective elements or stretch out the fabric. Once washed, air drying is the best method—direct heat sources can cause damage to the material as well.

For peskier stains that refuse to leave, spot treating them with a stain remover suitable for technical fabrics can do wonders. As a pro-tip, double-check the vest's care instructions from the manufacturer for specific cleaning guidelines tailored to your particular reflective running vest.

When it comes to compatibility with other gear, such as hydration systems or additional safety equipment, it's essential to consider the design features of your reflective running vest. Look for vests with multiple pockets or attachment points which can accommodate hydration bladders, energy gels, or other essentials. Some vests also come with integrated safety whistles for added security during outdoor adventures.

It's vital that your vest integrates seamlessly with your other gear, ensuring convenience and efficiency during your runs. Ensuring that your reflective running vest complements rather than hinders your existing gear is crucial for uninterrupted performance.

In addition, take note of any adjustable features that provide a customizable fit, especially when it comes to wearing the vest over thicker layers during colder seasons or on top of lighter clothing in warmer weather.

Furthermore, given the wide range of body shapes and sizes among athletes and runners, determining the correct size of a reflective running vest can sometimes be challenging. Let's explore some guidelines for sizing to assist you in finding the perfect fit.

With personalized care and attention to detail in selecting and maintaining your reflective running vest, you are well-equipped for safe and enjoyable runs while being visible in low-light conditions.

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