#super top up health insurance

[shreyasinghh11]

ManipalCigna Super Top Up Health Insurance - Get Quick Quote Online

ManipalCigna Critical Illness Insurance covers up to 30 critical illness (extended plan) & it also gives you an option to choose how the payout to be (lump sum or staggered).

[rajdeepsinghsharma]

Restoration Benefits Vs. Super Top-Up Plan

Restoration Benefits Vs. Super Top-Up Plan

Restoration and supplement features are typically included in your health insurance plan, however they may come at an additional cost. The benefits of both restoration and super top up health insurance are worth considering. Which one of these options is the best fit for you? Come on, we have to start somewhere, so here we go. What is the restoration benefit? If the sum-assured is used up…

[ashu-blogs]

What is a Super Top-Up Health Insurance Policy?

As the clinical scene of the world develops and turns out to be a higher priority than any time in recent memory, people and families the same are looking for the most ideal choices to keep themselves both monetarily as well as restoratively arranged. Keeping that in mind, choices like super top up medical insurance plans are turning into a famous strategy choice in view of the advantages they offer over broad wellbeing strategies. Assuming super top up health insurance has additionally been at the forefront of our thoughts, this is the very thing you really want to be aware to be have confidence that you are picking the right health insurance plan for you.

 What is a Top Up Health Insurance Plan?

To find out about what is super top up in health insurance plan, we should initially audit the ideas of health insurance as well as top up health insurance plans.

Basically, health insurance plans are an understanding by which in the event that the guaranteed individual or people cause clinical or hospitalization expenses, a piece of the whole sum will be covered by the safety net provider. Health insurance policies don't have a one-size-fits-all methodology and in this way, are presented in various variations. One such variation is the top up health insurance plan.

A normal health insurance policy offers a limited measure of inclusion and accompanies an edge limit. In the event that your clinical costs surpass this breaking point, you become obligated to take care of the leftover sum with no one else's help. Nonetheless, with a top up health insurance, you can expand this accessible cutoff for your health insurance plan as and when required.

 What is Super Top Up Health Insurance?

With these fundamental ideas set up, we can lay out the setting for the subject of super top up policies in health insurance.

Super top up plans are much of the time comprehended as a kind of top up health insurance plans. This is on the grounds that super top up health insurance additionally offers policyholders the choice to broaden their edge limit when their clinical costs surpass their ongoing inclusion. Nonetheless, as perceived by the term 'super' in its name, super top up wellbeing approaches offer extra advantages to the policyholder.

 Allow Us to Grasp this Advantage by Contrasting Top Up Health Insurance Plans with Super Top Up Health Insurance Policies

With a top up health insurance plan, you can surpass as far as possible for your inclusion for a solitary clinical case or hospitalization each extended period of the strategy. Any further clinical costs or hospitalization inside that year won't be concealed under the top medical coverage plan. Nonetheless, with super top ups health insurance policy, you can profit this equivalent advantage for various clinical cases and hospitalisations in a year. Likewise significant super top strategies are accessible as both individual health insurance plans as well as family floater health insurance plans.

 Understanding Super top Up Health Insurance Policies

We can attempt to more readily grasp the idea of super top up health insurance with regards to a basic model. Let expect that Mr. A has a health care coverage strategy worth Rs 6 lakhs. Tragically, Mr. An encounters a health related crisis and needs to go through a system worth Rs 8 lakhs.

Assuming that he has a customary health insurance, his strategy will offer inclusion that is equivalent to his total guaranteed ie. Rs 6 lakhs, given by the safety net provider. The leftover sum ie. Rs 8 - 6 = Rs 2 lakhs should be paid out by Mr. A.

In the event that he has a top up health insurance policy, Mr. A could pick a strategy worth Rs 10 lakhs and pick a deductible restriction of Rs. 5 lakhs. A similar methodology will then, at that point, be completely covered by the safety net provider. In any case, if Mr. An encounters one more health related crisis during the year, his top up health insurance plan won't get going. On the off chance that he has a super top up insurance plan, Mr. A can get the previously mentioned advantages of a top up wellbeing strategy for one as well as different cases in a year.

 Conclusion

While purchasing health insurance plans, whether for yourself, a friend or family member, or your whole family, it means quite a bit to take into the drawn out worth of your wellbeing strategy. The best top up health insurance plan in the business is equipped for offering such benefit, especially when you think about the increasing expenses of operations and hospitalisations.

 *Source – https://www.nivabupa.com/health-insurance-articles/what-is-a-super-top-up-health-insurance-plan.html

[insureviresh2023]

Difference Between Top-Up vs. Super Top-Up Health Insurance

A brief guide to help you differentiate between Top-Up and Super Top-Up Health Insurance Plans, assisting you in selecting the most suitable option for your needs.

[sahajkaur07]

What is a Super Top-Up Health Insurance Plan? | Niva Bupa

Do you know what super top up health policies and why do people take this instead of regular health insurance policies? Know all about super top up health insurance plans in India.

[cosmicdahlias]

🍄ford x reader headcanons🍄

part 7

• very proud of his jewish heritage. loves teaching you about the traditions.

• writes you love letters

• you showed him the star wars prequels and he LOVES them. was really happy to see more of obi wan as he’s his favorite character

• does that dad thing where he walks into the room and just stands there watching tv instead of sitting down. drives you absolutely nuts, like the couch is RIGHT THERE

• encourages you to get on his insurance. he considers your health very important

• if you’re an artist he’ll pose for you… sometimes sans clothes 👀💦. lowkey got triggered when you called him your muse one time

• you got matching cryptid tattoos. it’s the first tattoo he’s proud of

• loves how you get along with dipper and mabel

• his love language is quality time

• sleeps significantly better if you’re there next to him

• teaches you how to play piano. you love it because he guides your hands with his

• library dates are a must

• writes poetry for you

• constantly yapping about nerd and science stuff. you don’t mind, you just love hearing his voice

• leaves you notes telling you how much he adores you

• loves hugging you from behind and resting his head in the crook of your neck

• if you have freckles he absolutely loves them, calls them your “little stars”

• stan is constantly telling you guys to get a room

• tries to use modern slang, it makes you laugh

“y/n, do i have rizz?”

• you ask mabel to teach you how to knit so you can make ford a pair of 6 fingered gloves for the winter. he loves them so much

• loves to smell the top of your head when he hugs you

• literal human furnace. great for cuddling in the winter, summers are a different story

• for the first month and a half after you met he would get super flustered if you even looked in his general direction

• thinks the twin towers are aesthetically pleasing. had a mental breakdown for a couple of days when you broke the news to him

• if you sleep with a blanket or a stuffed animal he never makes you feel bad about it

• you ran into a bear on a hike once, he was very protective of you

“make noise and back away slowly, y/n. if anything happens i promise i’ve got you”

• gives you his coat without a second thought when you’re cold

• loves waking up to you in the morning. pulls you close and kisses you

• has a habit of moving silently after his time in other dimensions. has startled you on more than one occasion

• (this is a continuation of a previous headcanon in part 3)

used drinking to cope after you fell into your coma. felt like what happened to you was his fault, if he had never befriended bill all those years ago he wouldn’t have hurt you

[ofsappho]

Heartless

🔞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, smut in the next chapter (and the chapters after).

Reader is disabled/chronically ill (and so is the author)

You need health insurance. Ghost is sick of sharing living quarters with the rest of the 141. Soap, your childhood friend, thinks the two of you can fix each other’s problems.

Or, Ghost and you have to convince his command that you didn’t just meet each other and your marriage is totally, completely, 100% legit. Not for any, more practical reasons. And, of course, your married-couple accommodations only have one bed.

Chapter 1:

This will either be the stupidest decision you’ve ever made or the greatest stroke of brilliance you’ve ever had. And there is no in-between.

When Soap ducks his head into the coffee shop, you’re more than a little relieved to see him in one piece, plus or minus a few silvery scars scattered across his face and peeking out of his sleeves, the collar of his jacket.

And the dumbass aviators you bought him as a high school graduation present hang from the dip of his shirt. You know Soap thinks he looks badass, but the placement reminds you more of ‘Patagonia dad who likes hiking’ than it does ‘mysterious hardened special forces dude.’

He’s so built that he has to carefully pick his way between crowded tables, just so he doesn’t knock over someone’s drink or trip into a random stranger’s elbow.

You more or less tackle him into the biggest hug you can. “Soap! You’re not dead!” Ever since he joined his super-duper-top-secret whatever the fuck, you’ve gotten used to the communication dead zones in your years-long friendship. The silence never stops worrying you, though.

Johnny chuckles and practically lifts you off your feet. “Neither are you! Congratulations!” You know he’s relieved to see you as well by the way he ruffles your hair.

You fucking hate it when he does that, which is, of course, why it’s become a tradition every time you see him.

He pisses you off, you piss him off. “Twinning!”

The glare he tosses your way has all the menace of a kitten attacking a curtain. “Fuck does that mean? You know I can’t keep up with your American slang.” You’re a good friend who pre-ordered his ridiculous caramel latte with extra caramel, and Soap sits happily in front of it.

He learned that he enjoyed heart-stoppingly sweet drinks on accident - a case of mistaken identity where you unintentionally grabbed Soap’s macho Americano, and he drank half of your caramel latte in revenge. And here you are, years later, watching him slurp down a milk foam heart.

“Awww, too much for the brain cells you have left?” Teasing him as easy as breathing and a welcome distraction for the anxiety attack-inducing question you must ask.

The general coffee shop ambient noise swells in your ears. An espresso machine malfunctions, almost loud enough to make you jump, and you try to disguise it by sipping your iced tea. No caffeine; you’re nervous enough without it.

“I could have you arrested for that,” Soap quips. Please. As if you’d let him try. One call to his commanding officer about his pre-service shenanigans, and you’d have his ass court-martialed.

“Abuse of the power of the Armed Forces? Very ethical.” You raise an eyebrow and lace your voice with haughtiness, even flicking some hair over your shoulder.

Then you need to pass Johnny a few napkins to mop up the latte dripping from his nose out of laughter. “I’m glad to see you,” He tells you, and the sober, knowing look in his eyes makes your stomach drop out. He doesn’t miss a thing. He’d probably be dead or fired from his job if he did. “Though I know this isn’t a social call.”

Well. You’re in for it now. “Yeah, unfortunately, it isn’t.” The words taste like dust in your mouth, and the lemony-black tea barely washes it out. Just to give yourself something to do, you pop the plastic lid off and tip a couple of ice cubes into your mouth before chomping down.

“What’s going on?”

How do you summarize the horrifically, brutally stressful whirlwind of the last few weeks without inspiring the annoying, patronizing pity you’ve gotten from literally everyone else you’ve vented to? You’re not a victim to be coddled or a child to be given advice you’ve already thought of, tried, and failed at.

“I’m losing my health insurance at the end of the month” is what you decide on in the end.

He knows exactly what that means for you. For your future. Soap shakes his head ruefully. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You’ve been sick for a while, diagnosed the year after the two of you graduated high school. The kind of sick that is simply a freak accident of nature, causing your body to attack itself over and over until the day you’ll drop dead from complications. It wouldn’t take much; maybe a regular infection burning you alive with a fever your crippled immune system can’t stop, or a benign cut from a kitchen knife that will bleed and bleed until you’re halfway to the coroner’s office.

And then there’s your shitty, damaged, degenerated spine that keeps you in bed for weeks at a time with crippling, numbing pain.

Without health insurance, things won’t look good for your quality of life. And you like your quality of life to be decent. You’d settle for passable.

Really, it sounds worse than it is, and you try to console him. “It’s okay. It was eventually going to happen. I had hoped to have a little more time, though.” You remember the call from the insurance company like it just happened yesterday. You were loading dishes into the dishwasher and listening to Fleetwood Mac on the radio. And some poor customer service representative told you they were increasing your monthly payments beyond what they knew you could afford, so they’d have to drop you.

You watch him open his mouth as if to tell you that you should’ve said something sooner. But he’s been deployed for the past four months. He pauses and resets to something a little more helpful. “How can I help?” That’s something you have liked about Johnny a lot since you were kids. He cares more about what he can do.

Your anxiety permits your lungs to take one big, fortifying inhale. “Well…” Dragging it out will only make this worse, you know, but you really, really, really hate that it’s come to this. “This is fucking embarrassing.” You tried to find a way to pay the premiums; you really did. But you work forty hours a week already and trying to get more shifts, maybe find a new job, do this, do that, appeal, all of that has been futile and draining. “Will you marry me?”

He drops his half-empty cup on the table, forceful enough that some of the coffee spills out. “What?”

Soap’s partially-scandalized shock is not what you hoped for as a reaction. But you suppose you shouldn’t have expected anything better.

The worst part of this conversation is over. It can’t get more nerve-wracking. “Marry me. Like. Get legally married. I could get on military benefits, and my meds would be covered.” He doesn’t swing your way, but surely signing some paper and standing before a judge is, like, not the most terrifying thing Soap has ever done. “And- and I know there’s stuff in it for you, too, like a better apartment or whatever. I can cook. Better than you, that’s for sure.” One of your friends had to teach him how not to burn water.

He just sits there in silence. “Please,” You add on softly. Desperately. This is your last-ditch attempt, your Hail Mary.

At last, Soap’s shoulders slump, and you know, from that alone, that he’s gonna say no. Miracles are rarely performed for ordinary people. “I would if I could, but… I’m sort of already married,” He sighs, then winces, waiting for your inevitable unhappy outburst.

…

You blink a few times, brain furiously recalibrating everything you know. John got married, and he didn’t even invite you? Or tell you? You’re supposed to be his friend. That’s so rude, ouch. You would have even gotten him some expensive shit off his gift registry.

A fucking Keurig, for God’s sake. “What? Who?” You demand, more outraged that he would leave you out of his life than you are over him declining your proposal

Underneath that deep, sunburnt tan, you see Soap blush. “Jeremy from final year.”

You’d throw your empty cup at him, but he’d just duck. “I knew you were fucking him! I knew it! You tried to gaslight me and say you weren’t, but I saw the hickies on his neck!” There were only so many times Johnny ducked out of a math classroom covered in sweat, followed shortly by your classmate, before you put the pieces together.

Oh, but the rest of your friends called you a conspiracy theorist and told you to mind your business. Now, who’s laughing?

Soap holds his hands up in the universal ‘don’t shoot’ sign. “He needed health insurance. We’re married on paper. Haven’t seen him in a few years, but I know he’s doing alright.” Naturally, he’s already selflessly committed marriage fraud. You honestly should’ve seen that coming; that’s why you wanted to propose in the first place and figured you’d have a slim chance of success.

“Shit.” Now you’re back to square one. And it’s a shitty square, with walls that close in around you with every passing second.

The regret in his eyes overflows when he sees your slumped shoulders, how you’re picking at your cuticles hard enough to bleed. “‘M sorry. If I wasn’t locked down, you know that I’d do it for you in a heartbeat.” The worst part is that you know he’s being sincere, not just parroting empty platitudes.

Right. Well. That’s it, then.

You rub at your closed eyes, then at the stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. “Fuck. It’s fine, I know. I will… I’ll figure it out,” You sigh. Less than convincing, but it doesn’t need to be.

There are probably options you just haven’t thought of yet. Or maybe you can work something out with your doctor, where you only get your meds every other month. “I got it covered. Don’t worry about me.” You instantly see Soap rush to shake his head, to tell you that he’s always worried about you. You want to chastise him, tell him that he has plenty of things to be worried about in his own life. “Shush. It’s fine.” But you don’t have the heart to rake him over the coals for it now, so you settle for that.

You should go. You have things to do, things that include crying in your bed with the curtains drawn and urgently refreshing your email to see if anyone's gotten back to you. New jobs, aid organizations for low-income people, any further bad news.

Soap catches your wrist before you can say the appropriate goodbyes and rush out of the cafe. “Look- hold on- let me… let me ask my… friends.” He wrinkles his nose as he says it with an odd, stilted tone. Like ‘friends’ is a replacement for something he can’t say out loud in a civilian setting.

You can put the pieces together. “Is that what you’re calling your coworkers?”

“That’s classified, shut up.” His Scottish accent pops out there stronger than good malt whiskey. Hope is an easily-caught flame and far more difficult to extinguish. When you smile at him, you find it’s not entirely false. “Let me ask around, okay? They’re good guys. You might need to do the heavy lifting with your sparkling personality, but I can try.”

‘Sparkling personality’ is sort of ominous. ‘Don’t give them shit,’ is what he means to say. That’s fine, you’ve worked in customer service before. You can be on your best behavior.

You’re not exactly sure what kind of dude would be willing to marry a stranger, even if that is the kind of dude you want to marry.

But desperate times, desperate measures. “Thank you. Really. It would mean the world and…  would probably save my life.” You didn’t mean to get as choked up at the end as you do. No one else has been willing to help you, though, and Soap’s answering hug feels like desperately needed hope reviving itself in your chest.

“I’ve got you. And I hope I can help in the end, even if it’s not what you originally had in mind.”

-

Soap runs through his team members in his mind as he waits for the gate guard to scan his ID, trying to recall who’s tied down and who isn’t.

Captain’s got a wife, he thinks, and he’s a wee bit too old for you anyway.

It takes a second for the starry-eyed guard to hand him back the card and lift the gate.

You picked a good time to call him up; not only is he in town, menacing the local army base, but so is the rest of the 141—a rarity.

Vargas would certainly charm you, but Soap trusts Alejandro with you about as far as he could throw him.

Out of all the idiots he went to school with, you’re the only idiot who stuck around through the early years of his service, and you pursued your friendship like a hound after a fox even when he couldn’t properly reciprocate.

So John feels some responsibility for looking out for you, as you’ve always looked out for him.

Garrick wouldn’t be a half-bad choice. Dependable, responsible. Friendly, so your sham marriage would at least be enjoyable.

His mind drifts to his own errant mostly-platonic husband as he parks the borrowed car in his numbered space. Jeremy. The last time they spoke was over three years ago? Maybe four. Jeremy had found himself a new boyfriend and called to let him know, asking if Soap wanted a legal divorce. He was moving to some godforsaken corner of America. Florida? Maybe. That place has got too many fuckin’ states for him to remember them all.

They worked it out - they’d stay married, and Jeremy would keep out of his way. No love lost.

Roach could do it for you in a pinch as well. A little quiet, but maybe you’d work out something like him and Jeremy. Staying out of each other’s way.

Soap dismisses Lieutenant Riley without a second thought. On his best day, Ghost is about as inviting and amenable as a particularly hungry great white shark. And even if God himself came down from Heaven and changed Ghost’s heart to be interested, Soap would worry about you.

A lot. Even more than he already does, since the day you sobbed in his arms after school when you were first diagnosed. Since that day he had to help you out of bed because you could neither walk nor miss any more class.

Does he trust Ghost enough to fight alongside him? To have his back when there’s a gun against his head? Absolutely. Does he think Ghost would treat one of his oldest friends properly, befitting of the funny, kind, vibrant person you are? Abso-fuckin’-lutely not.

So that puts Gaz and Roach in his top choices for you and Vargas as a last-tier resort.

Armed forces worldwide, in Scotland and America, are all about efficiency. Eliminating redundancy.

And if that’s the excuse Johnny uses to justify blindsiding his whole team at once, so he doesn’t need to have this conversation three damn times and hear three separate rejections? That’s between him and God.

He herds them like sheep, plucking the Captain from his office, Garrick and Alejandro from conditioning in the gym, disturbing Roach’s book. Ghost appears out of nowhere as if summoned by the disturbance and falls in behind Soap. Not a single damn sound, of course. While that’s useful on deployment, he still has to tamp down on the instinct to jump every time he sees a skull mask hovering out of the corner of his eye in everyday life.

No matter. The lieutenant will likely wander out when the subject matter is revealed. It would raise more red flags if he told Ghost off.

He barely gets Lt. Riley through the pool room door before Captain jumps him. “Sergeant. What’s the trouble?”

That’s fuckin’ rude. “Why’d you assume I’m in trouble?” He indignantly replies. Except… yeah, there was that time he borrowed a humvee he had no permission to touch, and Captain covered for him to Laswell. Shit. “Well, I’m not.” At least, not this time.

Soap opens his mouth to argue this because it’s hardly fair for Cpt. Price to point fingers only to be cut off. “What is it?” At least Price has the decency to file the sharp edges off of his voice this time.

Right. He almost feels guilty getting sidetracked over something so stupid when he’s gathered everyone here for an infinitely more important reason.

Where does he start? How the fuck does he proposition them without sounding absolutely mental? “I… Hear me out.” Instantly, Garrick shakes his head ‘no,’ and Cpt.’s face remains as unmoved as a brick wall. Definitely not how he should have opened. “Wouldn’t be asking if the situation wasn’t desperate.” Soap opens his hands in the vain hope that the gesture will make them listen, at minimum.

You loathed hospitals and doctor’s offices when you first got sick. Now, you see the inside of them so often that it hardly fazes you. Still, Johnny always went along when you asked. So you wouldn’t have to be alone.

The countless memories of holding your hand as some faceless nurse sticks an IV in your elbow is the motivation that steps on the gas. “I have this friend,’ He tells them.

“You have friends?” If Vargas weren’t separated from him by the pool table, he’d reach over and stick an elbow in his side. What is it, official ‘piss off Sgt. MacTavish’ day?

They get in a laugh at his expense. “Shut up, you reprobate.” He puts enough bite in his tone to cut through the ruckus with the keenness of a knife. “I have this friend. Since I was a lad. She’s a good girl, good person. She needs our help.”

Everyone knows what he means by ‘good person,’ and the mere mention of a civilian girl in distress softens Gaz’s scowl and Alejandro’s scorn.

Their Captain nods, now significantly more amenable to this conversation than he was at the beginning. “Help?” Progress is progress, and for the first time, Soap allows himself to think he might be able to persuade someone.

“Yeah, well… you know these fuckin’ Americans. They don’t give a damn if people die like dogs in the streets. She lost her health insurance, and she’s… She’s ill. She’ll be ill for the rest of her life.” That’s something Johnny will never understand about this side of the pond. The NHS was never good, but at least it exists. All that freedom and shit, for what?

“Sorry to hear that. Fucking shame,” Price murmurs. 

“I was wondering if any of you might be interested in marrying her. For the fuckin’... benefits. I dunno know what exactly they are, but she mentioned new living quarters for her soldier.” He really ought to have looked this up beforehand and found some other things to sweeten the pot. “I’m already married. Had to turn the poor lass down, and I told her I’d at least ask you lot.”

Their captain gets up and off his ass like the stool’s on fire. “Alright. MacTavish, I’m leaving the room now. I’m going back to my office, and do not disturb me until you’re done,” He orders, mustache practically fuckin’ bristling with urgency. “I didn’t hear or see a thing.” With his parting words finished, Johnny watches the man book it out of the pool room in double time.

While he understands and appreciates the discretion, was that truly necessary? They’ve all done exponentially worse things than this.

His first choice makes a break for it, too. “Sorry, Soap,” Garrick declines. “I’m out. I’m sure she’s a delightful person, though being friends with you doesn’t speak highly of her life choices. But that’s a big ask, and I just don’t know her.” The sergeant taps him on the shoulder as he walks out in a silent show of support.

“‘Course.” With each man who leaves, his worry increases.

What voicemails will await him after he returns from the next mission? That things went horribly wrong, and you’ll be hospitalized for the rest of your life, or maybe even dead?

Whatever it is, there won’t be anything he can do by then. That’s the worst part.

“Yeah, can’t do it either, Sarge. I got a girl already.” Right. There goes Sanderson.

At least Alejandro has the decency to look genuinely sympathetic. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

Soap watches him leave and wonders if you’re still awake. It’s not late for him, but who knows? Maybe you keep normal hours now. “Yeah, I will.” You’d prefer to hear the bad news as soon as possible, but he would hate to wake you for it.

But he can’t ignore the ghoul haunting the corner any longer. “What are you still doing here, Lt.? I’ve gotta tell her I can’t help, and I don’t think you’d care to overhear that conversation.” His voice is a little sharper than is nice and proper, overflowing with prickly irritation like too much tea in a cracked cup. Of all the times for Ghost to not mind his fucking business…

“…what she look like?”

“What?”

And Riley’s got the audacity to repeat himself, slower, as if he’s stupid. “What does she look like? Got a picture?”

“Is this a joke?” Simon should stick to shitty quips about goldfish. At least those are tasteful.

The man doesn’t laugh, shake his head, or leave now that he’s successfully rattled Soap. He just stands there, as grave as always. Motherfucker. He means it. “Fuckin’… yeah, hold on,” Soap sighs as he fumbles for his phone.

He’s desperate because you’re desperate. He tells himself that, over and over, as he looks for a half-decent selfie. You’re a big girl, you knew what you were risking when you asked him for help.

Ghost takes his phone in his gloved hand. “Not bad,” He murmurs after a while. “I’ll do it. Marry her.”

A beat passes. Soap lets another one go.

Alright. The grace period is over and done with. “This is a really shitty, serious thing to mess around about. Genuinely. Don’t do that to her or me. This is about her health. Her life.” Johnny likes Lt. Riley. Really, he does. Even under all the freaky mask shit.

But this is mean-spirited. It would almost be out of character. It’s one thing to be careless if his sparring partner walks away with permanent nerve damage. This is fucking cruel if he doesn’t mean it.

Ghost can read minds now. “I mean it.” His chuckle makes Johnny fix his surprised expression into something more stern and imperceptible. “She’s desperate, isn’t she? I’ll do it.” When he walks closer, the changing light makes that skull on his face flash in and out of existence.

“Why?” If he can’t come up with a somewhat satisfactory answer… Soap’s fist can probably reach him fine from here.

And in a rather remarkable show of humanity, he watches Ghost pinch the bridge of his nose through his mask. “Think I like listening to you snore? Or fuckin’ Roach chattering on Discord at four in the morning?” Johnny never knew Ghost was such a little princess about that. Who would’ve thought?

The other man huffs a laugh. “Need my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, you do, the mask’s not doin’ you any favors,” Soap retorts as if on autopilot. That’s only their longest-running tiff. You’ve got your work cut out for you to deal with that ugly mug, he thinks.

“You want me to help her or what?”

Right. Right. “Sorry.” He examines Ghost’s body language, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “If you so badly want out of the shared bunks, how come you haven’t found someone else yet? Or some other way?”

“You think girls are lining up outside my door proposing marriage? You can’t even find me off duty. Now I ain’t gotta find… some other way,” He says before leaning back against the wall, at ease now that his argument’s been made.

“Fair point.” Fair, but fucking dumb. “I’ll tell her. She’ll say yes, I know she will.” Jesus, does he wish he’d been able to persuade Garrick.

Soap considers exactly how much you should know about your intended before this shit goes down. On the one hand, it might be better for you not to know much, other than that he’s found someone relatively trustworthy and willing. On the other hand… interacting with Lt. Riley is something that should only be done after signing a covenant not to sue.

“Whatever you do, don’t hurt her. She’s been through enough already. And I meant it when I said she’s a good person. Too good for either of us.”

Nobody gets through secondary school untouched. Especially not at that prissy international school you met him at, filled with over-privileged rich kids and army brats scraping the bottom of the barrel. Like the two of you.

When you were fourteen, you picked him up by the scruff of his Scottish neck with a smile on your face, then hit the bastard who hit him first. Thick as thieves ever since.

“And if you can’t find it in you to be nice, just… promise you’ll leave her alone.” At least you’re more than capable of making Ghost’s life a living Hell if he fucks with you. He takes comfort in that and a healthy amount of glee at the possibility of watching that play out. He’s got a front-row seat, after all.

Riley shakes his head. “As long as she ain’t a burden, MacTavish, no need to fuss and cluck.”

For a moment, Soap almost pities him.

“Don’t hurt her. Promise me that, right now,” He stresses. Just in case. At least eliciting this agreement might remind Ghost in the future to stay his hand.

The other man sighs. “I won’t,” He says at last. And Soap can tell he means it.

“Get out. I’ll let her know.”

[whilomm]

from wikipedia:

A national identification number, national identity number, or national insurance number or JMBG/EMBG is used by the governments of many countries as a means of tracking their citizens, permanent residents, and temporary residents for the purposes of work, taxation, government benefits, health care, and other governmentally-related functions. The ways in which such a system is implemented vary among countries, but in most cases citizens are issued an identification number upon reaching legal age, or when they are born. Non-citizens may be issued such numbers when they enter the country, or when granted a temporary or permanent residence permit. Many countries issued such numbers for a singular purpose, but over time, they become a de facto national identification number. For example, the United States developed its Social Security number (SSN) system as a means of organizing disbursing of Social Security benefits. However, due to function creep, the number has become used for other purposes to the point where it is almost essential to have one to, among other things, open a bank account, obtain a credit card, or drive a car.

so basically: do you kno the One Government Number that kinda gets used for everything off the top of ur head? Sometimes linked to stuff like social security (hence "social security number" in the U.S.) but they end up just bein used for like, Fuckin Whatever. im just curious how many ppl got that shit memorized

i was gonna be ha ha funnee "put your social security number your credit card number and those three wacky digits in the tags" but no someone would maybe do it. so. dont do that. please. I'm not 100% sure if every country has a system where writing your number on the internet is Bad (in the U.S. thats how u get your identity stolen) but still like. just in case. dont. thx.

but DO tell me if like. your parents or whoever made u memorize it. my mom did for some reason and now i kno it. maybe i dont need to bc i can find it easily but its in my noggin so. And also if u feel like it say how important the numbers are in your country. In the U.S. theyre Important but dont come up super super often, mostly if ur like. opening a bank account. dealing with Government Forms. taxes. insurance. occasionally medical stuff. but also if someone Gets Yours they can kinda destroy your life a bit w identity fraud. sucks a bit.

[gurggggleburgle]

expanding off my original : i know when qinghua says i get benefits he doesn't mean vacation hours and dental but can you imagine post I'd like to say it both makes complete sense that demons would invest in dental insurance as normal in society and also not in the slightest and that's what makes it funny.

What I mean is common conception and idea about demons is they all regenerate to an extent. We know that Sha Hauling regrows her nails in a near instance (which means being a lesbian requires so much focus in bed to restrain that) and we can assume that teeth are not being left out. See humans don't usually need to worry too much about their teeth being punched out of their face or grinding their own teeth apart with rage and jaw strength. Demons have fighting as a huge part of their social culture and I don't think its a stretch to say in demon flirting sometimes you accidentally knock a tooth. Having superhuman strength doesn't mean you aren't chipping your teeth and also if you worry about this and can just pull out a tooth and regrow it stands to reason that's a normal enough thing you can do. But also, you wanna make sure that comes back clean. Some demons might have diets that make them at risk for certain gum diseases, demons who have teeth that continuously grow might have certain cleanings they get done. There are endless teeth possibilities. Conceptually I think the idea that demons treat dental care as near the top would be both fitting and funny.

Because I want a fic where Airplane has to go to the dentist and Mu Qingfan is like I'm sorry I'm not an orthodontist and so he's forced to go to a demon world dentist and is super scared and like oh god he's gonna leave my mouth a bloody gummy mess.

But like actually its like the best dentist experience man has ever had. The dentist is nice, his pain taken care of, they use flavored gloves and let you take some home to chew on later, honestly he's knocked out on laughing gas so its basically just one big old nap for him and its great. And its virtually free with his health care plan? Sign him up for a followup this shit is the king!

And Mobei-Jun gets to be all smug about how his kingdom has 12/10 dental. Alternatively 20k fic just about how Mobei-Jun hates the dentist. But specifically because they stopped letting him have flavored gloves during his appointments.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for suggesting that my friend (A) NOT focus so much money into her little brother's (B) top surgery?

their family, while not toxic or abusive, is a little more close (or enmeshed?) than i ever was with mine. and thats great! it works for them and i love how much they care for each other. but A is 25 and married, significantly in debt, has a kid (on purpose) and her husband hasnt earned that much in the years since he went straight from high school to the work force. he now has a job getting like 25-30 an hour i think, but still thats not a lot for their situation. she had a salaried job (about 30k/year) but it wasnt working for her and she decided to quit. which i totally support, the position wasnt great for her and she wasnt great for the position. if she hadnt quit, she woulda been let go. she's looking for new jobs now.

anyway, all this to say, they are NOT flush with cash. and yet, every penny they have left after basic needs is being put toward B's top surgery- before even paying down their debt.

i especially want to know if i'm the asshole in a transphobic sense, because part of my reasoning is that B is a super skinny kid, and only 15 years old. he has an A cup at most. and the family had to jump through a million hoops to get permission or whatever for him to get his top surgery as gender affirming care.

i've brought up the idea that maybe B waits till he's 18 and gets it as an elective/cosmetic procedure, because the cost will be about the same to do that versus to get it as gender-affirming care under insurance. and that gives B time to save up his own money, and his family more time to organize their finances and contribute their parts. but A never seems to give a direct answer for why their family is so set on B getting his surgery before he's 18. of course i believe he should be allowed to by law and he shouldn't have has to go through so much trouble.

but B works summers only, at a low-paying job (ive worked the same job when i was a teen, it isnt enough to save up much) and is depending on his family for all this, even though his sister (A) and parents are all in rough spots financially. A just seems so stressed about money and i wonder if i'm the asshole for thinking she should just focus on her and her little immediate family for a while till theyre back on their feet. its noble and caring to be so invested in B getting the care he needs, but it's hurting A's finances, mental health, and family stress levels.

of course at the end of the day, it's none of my business. i'm A's friend, not life coach or money manager or anything else. i'm just curious what the aita voters think about all this. if i were to push the issue and make suggestions, would i be the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 3

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: Latrice bailed on you for dinner, but set you up for a date with Bada instead.

Warning: Swearing, Flirting, Legs

AN: Sorry for the late upload and shorter than expected chapter!! Still trying to get over Monday - will try to upload over the next few days. Thank you to everyone for following along~

Previous | Next

After finally getting the keys to your recording studio, you were overjoyed and decided to take Latrice out for celebratory dinner.

Y/N: Dinner’s on me make yourself available

Latrice: 🤨

Latrice: u tryna poison me again?

Y/N: It was one time Latrice get over it

Latrice: I don’t have comprehensive health insurance here I’m not risking it

Y/N: 🙄 I’m taking you out for dinner

Latrice: Keep talking

Y/N: THE STUDIO IS READYYYY 🤩

Y/N: And I don’t wanna drink alone

Latrice: Wait that’s actually good news I’m so happy for you ahhhh 🥰🥰🥰

Latrice: But still no

Y/N: What why what did I do?

Latrice: Nothing I am busy

Y/N: 🧐

Y/N: Busy?

Y/N: …

Y/N: Waitttttt a damn minute

Y/N: I want a name cunt who tf you linked up with

Y/N: HELLO??? MA’AM?

Y/N: Whatever happened to sharing is caring huh?

Latrice: 👉🏾👈🏾

Y/N: Oh god what have you done

Y/N: Tell me it’s not who I think it is you dumb fucking bitch 😇

Latrice: 🤭

Y/N: Ms. Kabamba 😇

Team BEBE was filming the last bit of reaction segments with Mnet while they were interrupted by a few raps on their door. “Come in!” Lusher greeted her co-captain dance mate in with a hug.

Latrice slowly poked her head through the door, “Hey Bada can I borrow you for a quick second?”

Bada looked up, confused, but walked over nonetheless. “Is everything alright?”

“Calling in a personal favour,” Latrice smiled nervously, “can you go on a dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? Sure!” The choreographer hummed and nodded excitedly, “BEBE with Jam Republic?”

“You and Y/N,” Latrice snickered, “I have a date and had to bail, but she’ll be much much kinder to me if you’d go in my place instead.”

Bada raised an eyebrow and pointed at herself. Perplexed, she sounded a little dumbfounded, “Me? Why?”

Latrice rolled her eyes at the obvious question, “She has a fat celebrity crush on you since she the first episode aired, that’s why. Now please, pretty please with a cherry on top, would you go in my place tonight so she don’t-” Latrice stopped dead as you decided you’ve had enough of her ignoring your text and started calling her instead. Her eyes widen slightly in fear as she turned to the taller dancer. “Bada please I’ll owe you one, I’m so so sorry-” she swiped and picked up your call, “heyyyy Y/N, I was just telling Bada about your dinner plan tonight. She’s super keen! Here you go-”

Latrice palmed the phone to the choreographer like a hot potato, mouthing ‘thank you’ at the blonde.

Dinner with Bada? The sentence hasn’t fully registered in your brain as you begun to rip your high school mate a new one. “Ms. Kabamba,” you uttered with the coldest tone you could muster, a tone that Latrice knows all too well. A tone you only take with her when she knows she’s done something stupid, again.

“Sorry to disappoint,” a familiar voice broke you out of your rant. “Ms. Lee here. I heard we have plans?”

Damnit that cunt, I’ll deal with her later. You quickly composed yourself, “Never a disappointment, love. Any dietary restrictions?” You tried to mitigate your hoarse voice (from screaming ‘CUNNNNTTTTTT’ right before Latrice picked up the phone) and previously harsh tone by being as sweet as possible with your word choice, knowing that phone call rarely - if ever - made you sound more personable.

Love? Your husky delivery had the tall dancer flustered, trying to hide a blush taking form on her cheeks. Bada gulped, hard, and stumbled over her words, “N-no, I’m not picky. Where and when?” She tried to pass it off as cool and nonchalant, but Lusher seemed to have picked up on her change in tone.

“I’ll pick you up when you finish for the day? Latrice gave me their schedule.” Bada hummed over the phone, you can almost see her cute head bop as she does. Okay, dinner with Bada. One-on-one. I can do this, no biggie, fuck. “See you then, Love.”

Latrice gave Bada a parting hug when the call was over, the latter still bewildered by the unexpected call. “Thank you so, so much. You’re a life saver. Have fun later!” She quickly shuffled out the room, shutting the door behind her.

Lusher peaked over the tall dancer’s shoulder, Bada’s cheeks still warm from the conversation. She gasped as the blonde slowly clasped her hands onto her face, letting out a small shriek. “Oh god Bada what was that all about?” The co-captain raised an eyebrow at her leader’s demeanour.

“Lusher, did you bring an extra outfit?” Was the first thing that came out of Bada’s mouth.

Y/N: You’re off the hook

Y/N: For now

Y/N: I will grill you afterwards 😇

Latrice: What a weird way to say thank u but ok

Latrice: ure welcome

When you pulled up in your bike, you did not expect the gorgeous specimen to be walking out the building in a skirt. You gulped and paused for a (significant) moment, marvelling at her (legs). Her hair sat perfectly, framing her face. She smiled and waved at you, walking (omg her legs) over with a small prance (her legs y’all). “Hey, thanks for picking me up.”

“God you look amazing.” After pulling yourself together, you realised a slight problem. “I am so sorry,” you quickly apologised, motioning her skirt (legs), “I did not plan accordingly.”

She chuckled and shook her head, “Don’t worry about these, tights underneath. My hair however, is a different story.”

Relieved, you handed her a helmet with a smile and hopped onto the bike, signalling her to get on. Bada giggled and straddled herself behind you, wrapping her hands around your waist. Both of you were suddenly very grateful for the helmets for keeping you road safe and hiding blushes. “You good?” You did one last check. Bada hummed and gave you a soft squeeze before you both rode off.

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf

[bebsibby]

The Top Surgery Log

Hello! I got top surgery yesterday! I want to catalogue my experience so I can remember it and provide some insight for people who want it but haven't gotten it yet. I will continue to update this post as my healing goes on. Everything under the read more!

Leading Up

My insurance is with Kaiser which has been an AWESOME experience so far. They do require a therapist letter, so no informed consent, but the process was very simple and there were a lot of people dedicated to getting me what I needed.

I had about 3 therapist meetings where she just asked me questions about my experience with gender and how my transition has gone so far, my support network, can I afford it, etc. Then she wrote my letter, sent it off to the surgical team, and I was approved within a few days!

After that I had my very first consult with the surgeon. He took pictures, did a breast exam, asked about general health and family health history, then gave me a little presentation of the process. It had post up photos of prior patients, a lot of explanations of the types of surgeries available that he does, and a lot of good information in general. He answered a lot of my questions and made me feel fully confident and prepared for the experience.

Also important to note: I told him the surgery I had been wanting ever since I started doing top surgery research was Inverted-T and I was curious of he knew of it/why that WASN'T an option they offered. He explained everything to me and showed me what he expected my results to look like if I DID want to go to a different surgeon outside of Kaiser. Said surgeon does NOT accept insurance, but would work with the insurance side of things to make sure they would reimburse for the expenses. I really appreciate that because it showed me they wanted to do get exactly what I wanted.

Based on all of that, I decided to just opt for Double Incision both to save me time and get a result that was aesthetically more pleasing to me. Loss of nipple sensation is unfortunate, but apparently IT only has the potential to bring a little sensation back, which wasn't worth all the extra hoop jumping for me.

After this consult, my surgeon told me to think about everything then email him a few days later with my decision. I did and then a few days later got my call to schedule. I got to pick my date but not the time of day, as I would later learn that's decided by the hospital and not me. Once my surgery was scheduled, another pre-op appointment was scheduled about a month before the surgery date. That appointment was very short, as it was just signing consent forms and confirming everything I wanted. He also gave me a packet of supplies I needed to get before the surgery.

After that, I'd occasionally receive emails with more pre-op instructions, like when to stop eating and drinking, showering instructions, when to stop certain medication, and how to care for my drains.

The Surgery

The day before surgery I had initially planned to do all of the last minute housework and leave for the surgery the next morning. HOWEVER, when I got my call to tell me the time, it turns I had to be there by 6 AM! The surgery center is over an hour away from me and the bus my wife and I were going to take didn't run that early, so we had to scramble to make other plans. Luckily the friend who was going to drive us back home was cool with us crashing on his floor for the night, so we were able to do the most important things at home then take the bus down the day before.

Once we were all set up for the night, I did the first cleaning routine that I was required to do, set my alarm, then tried to sleep. I didn't get much due to Hard Floor and also excited but that wasn't a biggie because I'd be sleeping again soon LOL.

Next morning I woke up, did my second skin cleansing, and we headed out! I checked in, waited a little in the waiting room, then got called back to start.

Everyone who was working with me was SUPER funny and kind. I got asked more questions, signed another form, took some pre-med tylenol, them stripped to switch into my gown, bonnet, and grippy socks (Got to keep those btw :>) My IV got put in my wrist which REALLY fucking hurt!!!!!! It never stopped aching. After that, the surgeon popped in to check on me and see if I had any questions, then they wheeled me in to the operating room.

I had gotten another premed via IV that was already making me tired, and I remember the last thing being the surgeon saying what to do with my removed tissue once he was done and I was gone!

The surgery itself lasted around four hours, but all I remember is waking up and seeing my wife and friend sitting at the foot of the bed. I said hi to them and that was apparently third time I had said it. I had been up and talking to them for awhile all loopy but also becoming suddenly very serious when talking with the nurses. I've had a few surgeries but I've NEVER been this way after so that was funny. The nurse had also been giving ME all of the postop discharge info and I don't remember it so thats unfortunate! I only remember her talking about the drains. I had to read it all again when I got home but it was all good.

Once I was awake enough, they wheel-chaired me down to my friends car, packed us all up and we headed back home. I napped about half the time but still kept my eyes closed when i was awake and talking bc my vision was still FUCKED and it was so bright out. We got home, I was lead inside, and that was that pretty much! I napped several more times, nibbled on some roast beef, emptied my drains (which made me very woozy, mostly due to the standing) and went to bed!

After Surgery

Day one! I woke up a few times in the night mainly to go to the bathroom, but slept REAL deep otherwise. It rained all night which was awesome. I woke up feeling very achy but not painful except for my throat. Those ET tubes are NOT easy on your body. Took all my meds, got out of bed eventually, and had cup ramen for breakfast. Now I'm just sitting on the couch with all my computer stuff moved from my desk to where I'm sitting. I got a long hdmi cable so I can just watch stuff on the big TV so I'm pretty set up!

My wife just brought me some cookies and overall I'm just feeling really good. Not really excited or emotional about it. Its just a very warm contented feeling.

I don't know what my chest looks like yet since my post-op binder got put on while i was still out, but everything gets removed next week! I'll probably update again after that appointment.

Feel free to ask specific questions! I'll be resting most of the time so I'll just be around!

[awyeahitssam]

Stiles crochets magic shit. Fluff. 

His mother made cards, his father carves, and Stiles crochets. 

At first it’s just something to keep his fidgety hands busy, and by the half dozen wonky scarves and blankets it’s clear that it’s more for mental preoccupation than making something nice, but then Stiles discovers that you can actually make creatures with yarn. There are free online patterns for superheroes, Pokemon, video game characters—all of which he already likes. 

Also, some people sell that shit, and he’s been looking for a source of side income on top of babysitting and selling essays to high school kids.

So Stiles is twelve when he starts. And he’s a damn perfectionist, hiding all his first attempts away until his stitches are even and his embroidered features precise. 

It’s something to help him unwind. He can binge watch and crochet at the same time, or listen to music and audio books. Eventually the motions are ingrained enough that he only has to keep half an eye on whatever he’s doing to push his hook through the proper stitch, and the rest of his attention is devoted elsewhere. He’s even managed to read while he’s at it, going down a rabbit hole of loosely connected wiki articles. 

Stiles is 13 the first time he makes Batman, his long time favorite hero. After he’s finished sewing all the pieces together and adding the bat emblem, he holds it up to the light to inspect with a proud grin and yelps in surprise. Because the tiny arms reach out, seemingly of their own accord, and wrap around his hand in a soft hug. Stiles hadn’t used posable wire. It shouldn’t be able to bend that way and stay. 

“What the fuck,” Stiles mumbles, confounded. The doll’s embroidered straight mouth curls into an impossible smirk, and the amigurumi falls limp in his hold. The only way Stiles knows he hadn’t hallucinated it all is because the upturned lips remain instead of the straight, serious line he had embroidered. 

Stiles blinks. Tries to write it off. 

But he’s always been overly aware of mental illnesses - it comes with the territory of loving information and having a clinically insane mother - so he starts selling his creations. They’re cute and niche enough that he gets $25 to $40 a piece, and considering that the activity relaxes him and only strains his wrist… Well, it’s better than them just collecting dust in his closet. He still writes essays, and instead of pitching in on groceries he shops cheap with what his dad is willing to spend. 

Eventually he has enough for an MRI, $1,372.00 without insurance, plus a signed consent form from parent or guardian. He goes a couple of towns over, outside of Beacon County, unwilling to let the gossip reach his dad’s ears. The bill never comes - he brings a cashier’s check, less suspicious than cash - but a letter does, confirming the doctor's original findings. 

He keeps the clean bill of health tucked at the bottom of his yarn stash, and pulls it out whenever he needs reassurance. So really, whenever he finishes making something and it begins to move.

His Harry Potter tends to end up pitched off the bookshelf or in Voldemort’s lap. Don’t look at him--he has no control over them once he’s tied off the last bit of yarn and tucked it away. 

He never gets super into anime, but he does end up watching a few. And Alphonse Elric cookie jar becomes one of his proudest creations. And then of course he can’t leave Al without his older brother, plus Ed is a complete badass. Stiles is in awe of him. Someone who does that kind of alchemic calculations on the fly just to add skulls to shit is a dramatic hoe, and Stiles can respect that. Tom Riddle sits next to him on the bookshelf, because that’s where the dramatic hoes live. If Stiles ever made a Peter doll, he’d have earned his place there. 

Once werewolves become a thing, Stiles can’t help himself. He makes a Remus Lupin, and then gives him a pack of wolves in gray, black and white. They trot around his nightstand, tugging impatiently at his sleeve every time he’s assembling another packmate.

They understand, just as Stiles does, that pack is important. Scott couldn’t get that lesson through his head, but Stiles knows it to his core.

…

Stiles slips off his shoes and curls up in the nook, grabbing a 3.50mm hook and two skeins of yarn. He connects to the Wi-Fi and puts Parks & Rec on while he crochets, occasionally remembering himself enough to reach out and sip at his slowly melting blended mocha. He’s just finished Deadpool’s body when somebody sits across from him, and he pulls one earbud out with a scowl, glancing up.

Peter Hale sits across from him with a small smirk and a hot drink, eyes meeting his for a moment before he cracks open a book. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Stiles blinks at him, the intrusion hardly registering as an annoyance because Peter hasn’t started talking, and stares for another bemused moment before replacing his ear bud and hitting play.

He was relaxed in minutes, movements smooth and practiced as he started the head. He felt eyes on him, but they only stayed long enough to catch Stiles’ awareness but not make him self conscious. 

He finished off his drink and another was set in its place by the barista, who met his eyes and winked. Stiles blinked back, then smiled warmly in thanks and stopped reaching for his wallet. 

He finished off Deadpool's head and shuffled for some more materials. The small red coffee mug filled with dark brown yarn and a little extra fiber-fill to imitate steam is quick work, only the size of his fingernail and fiddly enough that he had to focus. 

He waits until the two people in line have their orders, then goes to pass off the bauble. 

The barista gasps. Her name tag says Aria, but she always takes a beat too long for it to actually be her name, so to him she’s simply the barista. 

“This—is worth more than a free coffee,” she says, not exactly a rejection. She’s clearly enchanted by the tiny piece, which is nice. Stiles does like to be appreciated, even if his talent in this is the only thing that ever seems to earn it. 

“Pretty sure you’re up to around six free coffees now,” Stiles countered with a bemused little smile. 

The barista huffs. “Don’t tell the boss,” she mumbles, taking his creation at last. 

Stiles laughs at that. The boss—Rachel Zohinder—was absolutely besotted by the barista, and wouldn’t say a word against it. “Our secret,” he agrees. 

She tilts back a smile, small but true. “Show me if you finish before you leave?” she requests. 

Stiles shrugs. Nods. 

He ignores Peter’s eyes when he slips back into the booth, gnawing at his lip absently as he feels around for his wire.

Cheers to Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith that started my crochet journey in 2016. A truly gorgeous Steter story.

[begitalarcos]

Hey Guys

Wow it's been quite some time. In regards to my last life post (that I don't remember making) but did happen and was very difficult to deal with all the fall out for like... more than a month after.

I'm sorry I left you all with that and then just disappeared again. Things have been weird the last couple months... to put it in simple words... shit sucks

The falling out with my daughter caused a huge rift between several people who (were not involved but still had a very loud opinion about things) and quite a few uncomfortable conversations.

I unfortunately started drinking as a way to deal with not dealing with things (I'm good now but I had about 3 weeks of just being smashed on the regular) and during that time I suffered an awful fall which resulted in me slipping a disc in my back. Possibly 2 of them but I've had such a hard time dealing with doctors lately that no one in the medical field has been particularly helpful. So I've been living off a cocktail of painkillers for almost 2 months now (which I hate), I was going to physio but then my insurance decided not to cover my sessions until I could PROVE I was actually hurt.

Tomorrow I go for an assessment with a new doctor to try and get my insurance to cover treatment again, my MRI isn't even until August of next f*cking year. -_-

Our healthcare system is an absolute joke right now.

On top of being in CONSTANT pain (not being able to sit or lie down for very long either cuz I lose feeling in my legs) my daughters disability/mental health program has decided to just... not help anymore until she gets a new assessment. Even though its been almost 3 years and she's still on a waiting list for an adult psychiatrist.

So the last week or so now everyone is coming back to me to try and fix/smooth things out again (after I was basically pushed out of her life because I was "making shit up" and "didn't actually care" and apparently was just being a control freak) and no one has apologized for the way they treated me or forced me out of helping my own kid. Nope. They just expect that now that she has no financial coverage that I should be the one to speak for her again cause they have no idea what to do. -_-

My husband has been solid thankfully, even though his relationship with Sassy has suffered so much because of the people around her who have influenced her... not always for the better. But I at least have maintained a sense of control in a way that's worked for me.

I told everyone who has given me grief for the past couple years about Sassy (including Sassy) that if I am going to advocate for her and get this stuff sorted out that I'm doing it my way, and if I get any push back or flack from anyone - then I'm done. They can figure it out themselves and I wash my hands of it all.

My husband thinks I shouldn't have gotten involved again at all, but I know (and I knew things were gonna blow up eventually) if I don't fix this... its gonna become my problem again anyways.

This past month or so I've had some really good breakthroughs with my therapist about my toxic coping skills, people pleasing and lack of boundaries with family members.

I feel better about things though than I ever have and now that I am standing firm with my boundaries and my convictions its been much easier for me to deal with any gaslighting or potential drama that people have tried to start up with me.

I know this got super long winded and I didn't intend for it to be as rambling and trauma dumpy as it was but - it is good to get things out and clear the air. As I feel like I sort of left an air of weirdness here for quite sometime.

Working on getting back to the things that I enjoy and stop becoming immersed in other peoples drama and things that I can't change.

I've missed you guys and crikey has Tumblr changed since I've been away. But I'm hopeful and I look forward to getting back into fandoms and gif sets and all those things I loved so much again <3

much love to you all

B

[thistlecatfics]

do you have opinions on cbt

Hahaha everyone has opinions on CBT. For the radical queer trauma therapist circles I run in I’m actually pretty pro-CBT. For the average person involved in mental/behavioral health, I’m probably anti-CBT. 

[For context, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is a famously evidence based type of therapy which works by targeting thoughts/cognitions. It theorizes that thoughts cause behaviors which cause feelings which cause thoughts all around and around in a spiral of doom for which the easiest intervention is targeting the thoughts. It can be very regimented, hence it’s easily studied, hence why it’s so “evidence based.” You basically identify “cognitive distortions” like catastrophizing (I failed my exam and so I’m going to fail out of school and live in a cardboard box) and reality-check them (it’s one exam in one class and I can still pass the class if I get a decent grade on my final). You also identify the thought/feeling/behavior spiral (thought=I failed -> I will be homeless, feeling=fear, shame, behavior=avoiding the professor and anything associated with the class.) It’s definitely bigger and more complicated than that, but you get the idea.]

For a lot of people with anxiety and with OCD especially, it can be so life changing. 

For a lot of people, especially people who are trauma survivors or whose presenting problems are connected to trauma, it can feel like gaslighting. 

(Fun fact! Part of the reason TF-CBT (trauma focused CBT) has such solid evidence behind it is that it ignores the wild survival bias in its studies. People who have a lot of trauma or really intense PTSD tend to drop out. Those who stay mostly have success with it and provide happy little data points)

I think certain parts of CBT can be so useful – noticing thoughts, identifying cognitive distortions, checking in with reality – and I think using the triangle with clients (the little triangle of “thoughts,” “emotions,” “behaviors”) can be super useful, and I do it fairly often.

Personally, I find a lot of my clients can do (most of) the mental/cognitive work on their own – what they really need help with from a trained professional is actually a felt sense of safety and emotional processing which require therapeutic flexibility and other modalities -- and a longer period of work.  

Some people like a very concrete, structured approach, especially if they’re new to therapy or skeptical of the value of therapy. Also, a lot of people only can access therapy for a short time and a lot of people only want to be in therapy for a short time, and you can make changes quickly with CBT. Also, from the therapist end, there are a million free CBT trainings and workshops you can do vs. most other modalities where you have to pay $1000s for trainings (on top of getting a graduate degree). 

Insurance companies and payers in general LOVE CBT because it’s structured, evidence-based, and short-term. You also require clients to do homework, which is basically like extra therapy time you don’t have to pay the clinician for. You can also train people in it pretty easily. I think it’s important to understand *why* CBT is held up as the best/standard therapy type now, and it has a lot less to do with CBT itself and more to do with service provision and structural factors around paying for therapy and with what can be effectively researched. 

I’m reading Richard Schwartz’s “No Bad Parts” right now about Internal Family Systems therapy, and I’m now thinking of CBT within that framework. Basically, CBT is an effective part of the overall therapy system but it’s being asked to do too much, and so is overfunctioning and causing problems. We really should just let it settle into its own niche. 

It’s not my therapy niche! But it has a place. 

(If you were asking about Cock and Ball Torture therapy that would probably fall under the category of “experiential” therapy. Not sure it’s really been studied, but I’m sure there would be enthusiastic participants.)

[outsiderempire]

Trying to pull myself out of a depressive episode by taking a walk in between thunderstorms around my neighborhood. At least the scenery is nice to look at.

This is just me ranting about why I’m depressed. Ignore if you want.

I am so fucking disappointed in myself right now. I have worked tirelessly to lose over 40 lbs in the last year (and I’m still like another 40 lbs away from my goal). This comes after I had lost a bunch of weight before the pandemic (which was the first time in my life I had any sort of confidence and actually liked the way I looked) then I gained it all back plus some during the pandemic. So, to jeopardize my progress as I have done in this past month is super triggering to me.

Between the whole car thing and a federal bill being passed that changed my pay frequency, I’m basically financially screwed right now. I also have an elderly cat with medical problems and I have my own medical problems hindering my ability to stay mobile and exercise but I can’t afford to see a doctor about any of it. I have gone to HUGE lengths to overhaul my ENTIRE diet in an attempt to lose weight, but more importantly, to get my IBS under control, then I just turn around and stuff my face with junk and fast food over the entire last month (after going HALF A YEAR without eating fast food! Thanks, eating disorder!). My other issue that is an on and off thing and I suspect to be piriformis syndrome has flared back up, also making it impossible to exercise which is always been a huge boost to my mental health. So, basically I feel like I’ve set myself back and now I’m struggling so hard to get back on track. I don’t even want to see my dietitian this month because I have zero good news to bring to her.

It just feels like everything is fucking against me right now and I’m like powerless to do anything. I now have to pick up a side hustle to help pay off debt so I can have some relief but that won’t come for a few more months. I live by myself and I’ve been taking care of myself just fucking fine. Then wham! Sick cat requiring thousands of dollars in vet visits, my pay frequency changing from monthly to biweekly (so most months of the year I’m now bringing in $200 LESS a month than before), and the cherry on top, a fucking tree falls on my car, forcing me to buy a new car I can’t afford cause used car prices are insane, and so now I have an extra loan payment AND my car insurance went up. I am not fucking kidding when I say that my budget is down to the fucking PENNY with no fucking wiggle room.

And I’m supposed to be able to adequately feed myself to maintain my healthy diet for weight loss and my gut health somehow and get the motivation up to exercise to keep myself active all while having a house to maintain, a sick cat to care for, and picking up a side hustle? How do I not manage to fall back into a depression through all of this bullshit? I am literally putting in my best effort, doing the most that I can possibly do, and it’s just not fucking enough. Like, what do you even do when you reach that point? Because I have no fucking clue, man. Life is such fucking bullshit.