#tw: physical health

[f1uckinghell]

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[luminarai]

hey, hi, I was just on the former bird app and came across this info from a brand new study and now I cannot stop screaming internally??? what the actual fuckkkk

theres' an article from the guardian here and here is the actual study:

[tarnishedxknight]

Meta Topic: Noah’s Chronic Nethicite Poisoning

{out of dalmasca} I wanted to take the time to detail my interpretation of Noah with regard to the nethicite poisoning that he suffers from as a result of exposure in Landis as a youth. The majority of this information is headcanons, with a few bits of canon thrown in, but I always try to make things as realistic and believable in conjunction with canon as possible. Consider all of this information as true for Noah in his threads unless otherwise stated. Noah is... not a well man, heh. It’s actually amazing that he has been able to accomplish all that he has with the daily list of issues he faces.

{ PHYSICAL SYMPTOMS }

Amber eyes: The most immediately visible physical sign that Noah has nethicite poisoning is the fact that the irises of his eyes are an orange/amber color and they glow slightly. His eyes were naturally blue before being poisoned, the same as Basch’s, but because of his exposure during the fall of Landis, Mist has collected in his eyes, giving the appearance of amber eye color. And Mist, the magical fog-like substance that results from nethicite combustion, glows with an orange light, so that’s where it comes from. Noah’s eyes actually do glow in the dark. Faintly, but they do. I’ll go more into the magical symptoms Noah has a bit later.

Sterility: Something else I’ll continue to discuss in the “magical” section of symptoms is the fact that nethicite poisoning (supposedly) sterilized Noah. Nethicite poisoning and the effects of Mist on the body share many symptoms with radiation poisoning, for example hair falling out, shedding skin, teeth falling out, or becoming sterile. Nethicite will actually set off a Geiger counter in modern or MCU AUs, so who’s to say it does not share some of the same properties? Not everyone has the same symptoms and it depends upon duration and acuteness of exposure, but all these symptoms are possible. Noah... believed he was sterile, for he really should have been, only to father Larsa with Amoretta Solidor. 

Organ damage: Just like the symptoms of radiation poisoning mentioned above, nethicite poisoning can also result in organ damage. At any given time, Noah could have painful digestive issues, problems with his eyesight, muscle or bone aches, or he could suffer from respiratory ailments. Noah has a chronic cough, and it is not altogether uncommon for him to cough up small amounts of blood at times. The Mist in his body is constantly working to repair the damage to his organs even as it is also simultaneously causing it, leaving his body in a constant state of cycling health issues. For the most part, however, he gets by with his lung ailments. Actually, all that coughing over the years has resulted in him having an increased lung capacity.

Slower metabolism: Nethicite poisoning dramatically slows down the body’s metabolism. Because of this, Noah has a decreased need for food and water, something that has come in very handy for him over the years while training hard to rise to the level of Judge Magister, and while fighting in numerous wars and battles. When others have to stop for hydration or nutrition, he can keep going. Noah only needs to eat one large, decent meal every 2 days or so, and to drink water maybe once a day. He can eat and drink more, but he has to be careful not to gain weight too quickly, unless he’s trying to build muscle.

Chronic fatigue: The downside of having a slower metabolism is that Noah tires very easily. He’s overcome some of this with training and learning how to push through his fatigue to find his second, third, or tenth wind, heh, but it’s still a problem. He’s gotten very good at faking not seeming exhausted, tired, sleepy, dazed, etc., but he can only pretend for so long before he needs to rest. As a result, he needs about 10-12 hours of sleep a day to be perfectly rested as opposed to most other people needing about 6-8 hours. He... rarely ever gets that much sleep, though.

Fast “healing”: Mist is a very volatile, active, and seemingly almost curiously sentient medium. Whenever Noah becomes injured, the Mist inside his body will begin to repair him. But... it is an imperfect process. Imagine trying to repair a shattered ceramic item... with masking tape. Yeah, that’s not going to work very well, heh. The result is something that might be in the same shape and might hold together for some time, but its structural integrity will suffer and it can only handle so much stress before it’ll break again. The same is true when Noah is injured. The Mist will quickly do a half-assed job of “healing” him, and that might save his life by temporarily reforming organs and stopping blood flow, but he will need to rest to heal completely naturally or he’ll need potions, spells, or some other kind of magical help to fully heal his injuries.

{ MENTAL SYMPTOMS }

Increased risk of insanity long-term: It is canon that nethicite exposure negatively affects the brain/mind. Chronic sufferers may experience altered perception, delusions, hallucinations, paranoia, or a detachment from reality the longer their condition persists. I personally think that Noah was beginning to experience some of these symptoms by the end of the game.

Increased volatility and intensity of emotions: Nethicite poisoning takes emotions that are already there and amplifies them. It also causes extreme and frequent mood swings. Noah was already a very intense person to begin with, just by his own nature, and his condition doesn’t help matters any. He has the tendency to suddenly fly off the handle about something, which isn’t good in his line of work. He’s had to fight very hard to control outbursts of rage and sadness over the years. Sometimes... he’s not able to help it.

Increased aggression: One of the major symptoms of nethicite poisoning is increased aggression. This can manifest in a desire to hurt others, to break things and destroy property, or to lash out violently or verbally. Again, Noah has had to discipline himself very well to control his temper and Mist-enhanced desires to become violent outside of a battle setting.

Confusion, decreased clarity/focus, and memory loss: Sometimes Noah becomes disoriented for seemingly no reason. He might forget what he came into a room for, forget the date, repeat himself without realizing it, struggle with basic math for longer than he should, things like that. These little lapses in memory and mental clarity are due to Mist collecting in his brain. As it moves around and the distribution of it in different parts of his brain changes, it affects his cognitive abilities.

{ MAGICAL SYMPTOMS }

For my own personal fictional fantasy worlds that I’ve developed for my novels, the magic of sorcerers, healers, priests, etc. tends to collect in parts of the body that contain the most nerve density. In other words, the most capacity for feeling, pain, and/or pleasure. So, in the brain, the eyes, the mouth, the reproductive organs, and the hands. This is why magical is often given power and direction by speaking certain words, making hand gestures, or by having a direct line of sight between you and your intended target. This could also hold true for Noah, whose eyes are clearly a collection point for Mist within his body based on their orange glow. It makes sense, given the symptoms he suffers from, and... for another unfortunate symptom mentioned briefly above, sterility.

Noah expected himself to be sterile due to his poisoning and so did Amoretta. The fact that he isn’t, or at least that he isn’t completely or all the time, is curious. He may have been completely sterile for a number of years after his initial exposure, the Mist accumulating in his reproductive organs having been the cause. But, over time and as he continues to live with the poisoning like a chronic illness, his body seems to adapt to it in some ways. It is possible that after a while, his body began to regenerate certain capacities like fertility despite his continued poisoned state.

{ REVENANT STATE }

All of the above symptoms are true for living Noah before he dies in any way. After he dies, he will wake up again as a revenant unless his body is irrevocably destroyed via decapitation, bifurcation, or burning. Depending on how intact the body is at the time of death and the level of Mist in the body, a person may rise as if they had never died in the first place... or as a mindless ghoul. In Noah’s case, he died from a blow to the back of his head when Cid threw him against a wall at the Pharos. It likely cracked his skull and caused traumatic brain injuries, resulting in his death. However, his body was almost fully intact, and he has high levels of Mist in his body, so he woke up again pretty much like his normal self. At least... visually...

Technically, Revenant!Noah is a form of undead, meaning that he’s no longer alive in the traditional sense but he’s still walking and talking and living his life. He doesn’t need to eat or drink in this state but he often chooses to simply for pleasure. He also becomes immortal, meaning unless his body is destroyed in on of the manners I mentioned earlier, he will go on living. Well, “living.” This is how he is some 5K+ years old in MCU AUs where he has been alive the entire time Basch and/or Ashelia were in stasis.

{ OTHER NOTES }

Issues with healing magic: My version of Noah cannot successfully magically heal anyone but himself. This is because he is not naturally capable of magic like those of Dynast King lines (Ashe for example), nor has he trained or studied magic to become proficient at it in some way (like Basch). So all of his magical ability stems entirely from the Mist within his body. That is what powers his spells. When he “heals,” he uses Mist to do it. This is okay if the person already has nethicite poisoning, but if they don’t, he actually might do more harm than good by essentially pumping Mist energy into the body of a healthy person. In contrast, if he heals himself magically, all he’s doing is concentrating the Mist that’s already in his body into a certain wounded area. This will cause him fatigue, but it would also help repair his body more quickly, at least in the short term.

Forms of Noah’s magic: My version of Noah manifests his magic mainly through offensive spells in battle, with some defensive and bolstering spells that affect himself. Offensive spells are often meant to cause harm or destruction, and so he doesn’t care that he’s using Mist to cast them. Defensive and bolstering magic, however, would cause harm or illness to someone else if he tried to cast it on them. But for himself, he can throw up shields, enhance his weapons or armor, make himself faster or stronger for a time, or give himself a little boost of energy if he is feeling fatigued.

Hope for recovery or being cured: In my canon for the FFXII world, nethicite poisoning can only be healed by someone whose magic stems from the Occuria. So, one of Dynast lineage like Ashelia could be capable of it if their magic happens to take a healing form and they can become strong enough to completely cure all the poisoning in someone’s body. Ashelia happens to be very innately powerful, even when unpracticed, and her magic naturally does take a healing form (in my canon, at least, because in the game I always made her a healer, heh). She accidentally cured Basch of his nethicite poisoning when she was only ten years old because she’d been so upset at his failing health that her tiny self wished so hard, her magic misfired. She ended up passing out from the effort, but when she woke, Basch was cured. From that moment on, she studied and practiced to perfect the arts of healing. So... in any AU where Noah has access to Ashelia, it would be possible for her to cure him as well. That is not to say that in a modern or MCU AU there isn’t some cutting-edge medical treatment that might be able to also cure him or to minimize his symptoms. I’m willing to leave that open to whatever fudgery might be needed in a given thread. XD

That’s all I can think of right now, but as I detail more, I’ll add to this post! =)

[dendianaproductions]

SO.

It’s been a while (Been a while~). I’d nearly forgotten this existed. A lot’s happened since the last time I posted regularly... I’m a mess, but I’m also alive and I’m here, and I’m not going down without a fight. I want to *live*. I want to *THRIVE*. 

I’m older now (36. Hard to believe), I’ve shaved my head twice since 2014... I’m not homeless anymore, but I live with my parents, who are kinda shitty, so I’m trying to get a job so I can move tf out and live with friends in a house that we’ll own...  Chronic pain’s gotten worse. I’ve got a depression and anxiety diagnosis, and an Autism diagnosis. I’ve been seeing a therapist since 2016, when I got into the system in my state (I was in a bad way, mentally). I’ve gotten an IUD. I’ve got more tattoos. I’m learning more about myself and who I am. I’ve found communities that I feel welcome in. I’ve made friends, I’ve lost them for standing by my principles (their loss, really).  I’ve done so much growing in the few years I’ve been away from Tumblr... I had a boyfriend for six and a half years before breaking up with him because there was no way we could’ve been partners in the end, and I wasn’t feeling emotionally supported when I really needed it. We parted amiably enough, and we’re still friends, but now I know what I know, and it was really for the best that we stopped dating.

I get migraines, my back is in pain almost daily, I’ve had COVID and now have neuropathy in my feet as a result, I take antidepressants...

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

3 Types of ARFID

Neurodivergent_insights

[anlian-aishang]

Levi with an (Episodically) Depressed S/O

Tags: levi x reader, angst, hurt-comfort, gn!reader Word count: 900

Levi invites you to shower with him, making the obstacle less daunting and much more attractive. In his black robe, leaning on your bedroom door, two towels slung over his arm indicate the knowledge that you will say yes and accompany him. The way that he looks, the low plea in his voice, how could you say no? 

It would be more accurate to say that he was bathing you, but he does not phrase it that way. Instead, he is humble, letting his actions speak louder than words. He does not tell you that he will shampoo your matted hair, does not flaunt how deliberately he exfoliates your limbs, he just does them for you. Some days, even just tipping the bottle or pumping some soap into your hand can seem mountainous. On those days, he sees those activities not as tasks, but as privileges. It is his honor to be the one looking after you in your most dire time. He would always prefer someone to take care of rather than someone to miss. 

Showering together not only ensures that you stay clean, but his company prevents you from those timeless sessions sat on the tile floor. At the moment you look refreshed but before you become sleepy, he jerks the handle to the left and halts the devastatingly relaxing rain. 

Always, your clean clothes are already folded atop the bathroom counter, waiting for you. Some times, you fail to remember that you did not put them there. Other times, you notice the sign of his relentless consideration, but are artificially silenced from expressing your gratitude. No matter in his mind. You are clean, clothed, and out of bed, and that’s already better than you were before. 

Without one complaint, Levi scoops your dampened towel and old clothes from the wet bathroom floor and drops them in the hamper for you. He has seen the piles that can amass, and if it were anyone else in any other circumstance, the clean freak would be quick to chastise, but any sight or thought of you disintegrates any instinct to discipline. You are sat in the living room, admiring the ivy that swirls around the balcony’s posts, thumbing the petals of the bouquet vased on the coffee table. White-gold rays move just a tad west to cast your figure in therapeutic light. You’re too tired to move away from the sun, and for once, Levi finds your fatigue favorable. As the morning temperature rises, he can see that your resting smile does as well. 

While you are entranced with the scenes of summer, Levi swiftly searches for and alleviates the areas you have left neglected. He dumps your sock drawer upside down and mends the pairs that you have discarded as singles. In your closet, he finds the clean pile and dirty pile and either folds it or washes it accordingly. Under your bed, on your nightstand, in your bedside drawer, he discovers the dirty dishes that have been missing the sink and returns them to their proper place. 

Between those tasks, he rolls his shoulders back or rubs the side of his neck and allows himself to sigh. It is difficult - not to bandage these tiny wounds - but to see the harsh bruises left by the illness. Sure, you were forgetful, and not quite as tidy as he was, but still - the mounds of laundry, hidden dirty dishes - this wasn’t like you. Levi lives for your joy - not the superficial smile, your peace - not the misleading silence. He lives for you - in sickness and in health. The times you forget your worth, that is when he whispers it in your ear. When the world is overwhelming you, he lets his touch communicate it. 

Once your space is in order, he can start to work on getting you to leave it. Rather than annoying reminders or obligations, he mindfully manipulates the steps of treatment into desirable invitations. Rather than Do you want to… or Would you like to…, his proposals are statements, taking the responsibility out of your hands. Concerts in the park this afternoon. Let’s go to the farmers market. Apple orchard just opened.

Or even less far away. 

Plants look thirsty, water them with me? Rain just cleared, read on the porch with me? Full moon tonight, stargaze with me?

To you, with me frames the activities, frames your presence as favors for him, and even in your lowest state, you are always keen to help him with anything. To Levi, it is no framing, your relationship is the greatest gift that fate has bestowed on him, and he treats you as such. It is in his selfless actions and his careful words, but it is more than that, traits you can’t quite categorize. The near flat, subtle smile you wake up to in the morning. The tight yet painless combs through your hair that leave you feeling divine. The low, calming timbre of his voice, decorated with a tender tone that he reserves for you. 

Even before the haze you’re in now, you’ve never been able to label those qualities of his, and instead settled: it’s just who he is. 

Like the sentiment that motivates his care: it’s what you deserve. 

// masterlist //

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXI)👽👻💚

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

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Wonder Woman! Robin! Impulse! Danny! Dick drawings! Who says that occupational therapy and learning a second language can't be fun?

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

💚👻👽👻💚

EXTRA TW for: vomiting, panic attacks (this chapter only)

Danny can hold a spoon now. He is unstoppable.

So, when the lady isn’t there to feed him dinner (more mush), one of the not-the-lady nurses gives Danny a tray, and lays a mat over his lap so that he can eat without completely messing up his bedsheets.

Eat he does. Slowly. Maybe a little messily, and it’s kind of embarrassing to have to admit to himself that food definitely spills out of his mouth and onto his lap. The doctor/nurse/medical person, whoever they are, turns on the television, and Danny doesn’t try to ask for the remote. The television only gets something like ten channels, and none of them are cartoons at lunch hour.

So. News it is.

Most of the news follows the same cycle; the weather, sports teams Danny can now recognize the colors of, traffic cameras, and events with long, scrolling text to detail the happenings onscreen. There’s something about dogs? That’s fun. The scientist/nurse/tech, whoever they are, says something in the tone of Aaw, aren’t they cute? as puppies run about and wrestle on screen.

Danny kind of misses Cujo. He picks at his bedsheet, and doesn’t say anything.

The dog program transitions away— there’s a bright banner in its place. Danny’s seen it before: it’s something to the equivalent of Breaking News. It’s usually weather, or crime, or something.

Um. But it’s not that. Danny’s spoon drops, because a ROBOT LADY lights up the screen with a glistening silver suit, not unlike the Ecto-Skeleton his parents used to keep in the basement. Or, well…this one might be more streamlined?

Danny shifts. He can’t help. He’s here, in the hospital. Or. Uh. The space…hospital. His body is very broken.

But there’s a robot lady wrecking a town on Earth.

And Danny can fly.

…Could fly. Could have flown. If he was. Well.

Danny’s not well, and his body aches and his hands don’t work and his legs work even less, but there’s people out there who need help. People who are getting shot at with rays and Danny can fight them, and humans can’t. Danny can help. He—

His core throbs. Danny chokes. He pulls at his chest, trying to find some kind of purchase on his medical gown to tug himself—up?? Out?? He can’t fly right now, but maybe—?

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, abide, abide.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Look!” he snaps, and jams a finger at the television. “There’s—look! There’s a giant robot out there punching buildings!”

“Wacie,” the human protests, but at least turns up the volume so that Danny can see better. “Wacie, þær eart firas þær nou.”

What does that mean?!

Danny hasn’t lifted himself in forever. His legs don’t work, but his arms…might.

He presses his palms down to the mattress. He pushes.

There is a liberated fraction of a second where Danny’s whole weight is on his arms.

—And then he comes crashing back to reality, his elbows snapping back into place. His butt slams back onto the bed and the whole frame jitters.

Danny pants. His arms quake.

The medic completely barrels through Danny’s usually meticulously-kept personal bubble, trying to make sure Danny didn’t dislodge his IV or rip his ligaments and tendons or tear his muscles or. Something. Danny barely notices, barely cares, because someone else blasts onto the television screen in a red bathing suit and gold boots.

And suddenly, both the people on screen are fighting. It’s brilliant. It’s bloody—it’s physical, in the way that flesh and bone and metal must be. Danny’s never seen serious fighting like that before.

And the new woman flies.

Danny stares.

She flies. She fights. She wins—narrowly dodging or displacing lasers with something shiny on her arms, and getting long hair singed in the process. In the end, the robot is tethered down with some kind of shiny metal rope, screaming and kicking all the way.

…Danny barely remembers to choke in air. That's so cool.

The medical person says something reassuring, but Danny’s too tired to listen. He watches this new woman take her applause, floating down on nothing but air to meet the reporter and answer questions. She looks poised. Confident. People clap. People shout things out. People smile. People cheer.

…No one is screaming. No one is running.

There are no ghost hunters in the crowd.

Danny’s exhale is manual. So is his inhale. His heart monitors are making all sorts of funky pictures most likely, but that’s not his business—he watches a woman in armor who flies take off into the sky, free to come and go as she pleases.

It…it hurts. It’s so beautiful and so peaceful and gentle and it hurts so much.

His eyes well up with tears. Why did she get this? This…niceness? Everyone had hated him when he'd tried to help—the teachers, Vlad, the town, his parents. They’d hated him! All he ever wanted to do was help like she did!

What made him so different?! Why was it Danny who got hunted down and shot at? Why was it Danny who got kidnapped and taken hostage?!

Tears burn his eyes like fire. It’s got to be the salt. Danny’s strangled whine turns into a choked off sob before he can catch it. His hand goes to his mouth, but he can’t stifle the noise.

He doesn’t want to. He wants to cry. He thinks he deserves it.

The tears come until he is sobbing, crying, wailing—because WHY WHY WHY was it so easy to hurt him?! WHY DID THEY HURT HIM, WHY DID MOM HURT HIM, HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!

A towel appears in his hand. They’re so nice to him here. So much nicer than when Mom and Dad had—

Danny’s cries are as much screams as they are anything else.

There are hands on his shoulder. On his back. Rubbing. Danny wants to shove them off but the lady isn’t here, which means that it’s one of the staff-members who isn’t supposed to touch him. They’re not supposed to touch him in case Danny hurts them but one of them gave Danny a clean towel to scream into and is rubbing his back because he’s crying.

They’re trying to be so nice and gentle but EVERYONE JUST WANTS TO HURT HIM.

They’re smart, though. They notice before Danny does, and have a bucket ready by the time heaving sobs turn into outright vomiting.

At least the mush mostly makes it into the bucket.

*

…So.

Having a breakdown…sucks.

Danny has to carefully brush his teeth with an extra-soft bristle brush and rinse out his mouth before he gets more water.

Someone is being very nice. There’s artificial fruit punch flavoring in his drink. He wants to feel grateful but he mostly feels dead.

…His eyes slide listlessly across the room. Ha. Dead.

Danny is horizontal and wrung dry and too tired to do anything but pant by the time the lady comes back to his room. She’s in quicker than usual—her gown is sort of sloppy, hair sticking out of her hair net, and she’s still looping her mask around her ear.

She gets down on her knees beside his bed. She asks him if he’s alright.

Danny’s not alright. He isn’t sure he’s been alright in…ages. Ages and ages. Before he was trapped and tied down. Before he was hated. Reviled.

…Before he was Phantom, maybe; before Danny Fenton had died a shocking, senseless death.

Tears try to wring themselves out of his aching eyeballs, but he’s too dry-eyed to cry; the lady make sad, wet eyes for him, and that’s probably enough between the two of them. Danny’s misery is a vast, gaping void, and all he has to show for it is the shovel he’s been digging through all this shit with for the last few years.

The lady brings her hands closer to his hairline, curled fingers hovering in the air. Her word’s don’t mean anything to him, but the gesture is clear: May I?

“…Mm,” Danny agrees. His eyes fall closed when she gently scratches at his scalp with her fingers.

No one’s touched him gently, on purpose, in…ages. When he was little, Dad used to pop him between him and Mom in bed. Mom would brush out Danny’s bangs with her fingers and Dad would hum. It was always something ill-fitting and silly. Guns N’ Roses. Led Zepplin. Santana. Sometimes Jazz would sit with them, crushing him until Dad had to pull him up and out of harm’s way.

In the quarantine lab, hurting him had just been part of the scientific process. What if there was some new discovery under his fat layer? On the other side of his ribs? Nestled between his alveoli?

Danny sniffles. He’s too dry to cry. He blinks invisible dust off of his eyelashes, and focuses on the weird lady who’s with him now.

Up close, when his eyes work, she looks nice. She has blue eyes, like him. Like Dad. They’re kinda…glowy, maybe? Sparkly? They remind him of ice in the Far Frozen—inhumanly brisk, and impossibly clean. She has eye crinkles where she smiles, tan skin making them more defined than their actual depth. Between her hair net and her medical mask, little wisps of black baby hairs shine through.

She pets him. She smiles. Danny isn’t sure why, but. Whatever. Jazz used to insist that human skin-to-skin contact was an essential need, so this is probably, like, also medical care.

Yeah. Danny squints. …Sure.

Whatever. It’s nice.

So Danny gets petted and it’s fine. He almost doesn’t notice the giant gauntlet under the paper sleeve of her gown, but then it’s right in his field of vision, and. Hey. Didn’t he see that on TV, like, an hour ago?

Danny stares.

He can’t actually tell if they’re gold under the pale blue color of the gown, but. The color is certainly some sort of unusually colored metal, cold to the touch even through the paper-like material of the gown.

…He doesn’t want to touch her, or let her know that he’s touching her. But. He brushes the back of his wrist against the bracelet, and it hums against the paper gown between it and his bare skin.

The lady blinks. She looks down at where they made contact, and asks him if he’s alright.

Danny looks away.

She knows she saw him reach out to her, though, so she takes her hand off of his hair (…hey…) and pulls back the sleeve on her gown. “Sest,” she offers. See?

It is the same kind of bracer he saw on TV. Up close he can see the designed etched into it—geometric lines stretching down from her fingers to her elbow, terminating in something structural. Not quite diamonds. Just…strong.

There’s a couple of very, very tiny letters down towards the bottom. His eyes strain when they try to make any sense out of them; they’re too small for him to actually focus on, which sucks.

She steps back, and pushes her sleeves down to show off her gold bracers. She lifts up the hem of her gown, revealing red boots that go waaaay up her thigh. They have the same gold metalwork as she does on the bracers.

Danny just saw those on the television. His eyes widen.

“You—“ he starts, and then remembers their difference in language. He points his hand at the television. “You fought? You were on TV?”

“Hwæt?”

“The TV?” Danny repeats. She doesn’t understand. Danny doesn’t know how to tell her what he means. “The…you were there?”

She looks at him to expand. Danny looks back at her.

…So they just stare at each other silently.

The door cracks open; the person who’d mediated Danny’s breakdown pokes their head in and says something. “Eower feoht wæs an þe box todæge.”

The lady blinks. Danny blinks. Wait. Did they just call the television the box?

“…Box?” Danny clarifies, and lifts a hand to shakily point at the television again.

The lady blinks, and grins. “Yea!” she returns, pumped up. She stands, to the powerful height she’d had on the television—excuse him, the box—and flexes her now-exposed arms to show off massive biceps.

Holy moly. Danny hasn’t seen any bigger biceps on his Dad.

She flexes one arm, the other, both—in front, and behind. If Danny had that much definition, he’d be showing off too! She leaps back impossibly far—and holy crap she can fly— to show off some mock punches at invisible enemies at speeds that Danny would be hard pressed to follow even with supernatural abilities.

He goggles.

She laughs at him, but she doesn’t sound mean—she sounds show-boating and silly, and teasing and playful, but not mean.

She’s like him. She’s not a ghost but she flies and she’s not human. She’s not human just like Danny. Just like that one green guy. Like the fast kid who visits him.

It’s such a relief. It’s so scary. Who are these people? Why are they healing him? Why are they keeping him?? Why do they have access to so many non-human people? What do they want him for? Is Danny supposed to fight like that?

He would fight. If he had to. He’s done it before.

If they make him fight, Danny’s pretty sure he’s going to fall apart like cheap glass.

The lady comes back when Danny goes quiet, her gloved fingers brushing up against his knuckles. The sensation is enough to bring Danny out of his…fog. Sometimes everything is so cloudy and vague. The pain medicine makes it go away, and the pain medicine brings it back.

Danny curls his hand into a shaking fist. He bumps her knuckles against his.

She makes a surprised noise. Danny feels her gently move his fingers, rearranging, moving where his thumb goes—

He huffs out a laugh. His fist wasn’t good enough to her standards. Her fist bump meets his in the middle with a smirk and a laugh, victory written all over her face.

[anonpolls]

*in person/in the same social circles

(if multiple of these are true, click the one closest to the top)

Thanks, Anon!

-submit your poll!-

[short666bread]

Some doodles for this fic :) go check it out, along with @s0lifuge ‘s newly minted tumblr (18+) !!

[vcrnons]

20220603 HOT ; VERNON

bonus feat. wonwoo:

[squea]

today (i think) is my 5th simblr anniversairy!!!! yuck but also waow

after coming out of what has probably been the most traumatic week of my life, and generally doing not so good mentally for the last few months, I can say that I'm ready to get better and do better for myself. feeling worthless and helpless is a very scary place to be, feeling like dirt for failing at most things, and being barely adequate at others! but im not saying all this to be all boohoo im trying to say the opposite!

despite everythin, simblr has been such a pillar to me and my mental health sdjfsg it sounds dumb ik! but in late 2018 i blocked almost everyone i knew and became a hermit for a bit whilst i was going through some medical things. at that time i set up my simblr and it was so refreshing to be in an environment where my hobbies and interests which had been ridiculed for years irl, were celebrated and shared. i was having so much fun with the ugliest reshade in the world, 0 cc making knowledge but a desire to learn and just interacting with others in the community dfjghdf

and thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart to those who have commissioned me since i started doing commissions last year. seriously you have no idea how much its helped me financially and mentally gfjdhf

anyway!!!!! this is already coming across incredibly yucky but just wanted to say thank you. to anyone ive spoken to once or now talk to daily on discord (u know) because youve helped me more than i can be bothered to find the words to explain ok. this place has given me purpose and stability to improve mentally, learn, and make friends!!!

for a couple months now ive been working on my story with corn. i cant wait to start posting it sdjfhsd. things are getting better for me, i think! :-)

anyway thank u thank u thank u thank u kisses for u

[schizoaffectively]

Anyone else ever experience this or similar?

NOTE: Not looking for any armchair diagnosis or asking what it is for sure, just wondering if anyone else experiences it or anything similar! :0

It's happened a few times so far this year, and I believe it has in the past too (idk for sure tho, dissociative time loss be damned /silly)....

But basically, the following happens seemingly out of nowhere, and lasts usually about 10-15 minutes, maybe 20:

My vision starts to fade, gets really spotty and unable to see much/make things out easily

Following that, my hearing becomes muffled, when I talk or listen to any external sounds or voices, it's hard to make out and very muffled.

Sometimes I get really disoriented, not always

I can tend to get very irritable/angry or a feeling of dread (not sure if just distress, or random mood symptoms)

Not sure if it's just my body being stressed tf out from always being in pain (the last two times I noticed happened to be during the late afternoon/early evening of bad pain days), or some other thing... definitely gonna bring it up to my general practitioner when I see her this fall, if not sooner.

[t-u-i-t-c]

"You actually were alive?"

[signanothername]

Besties who know nothing of personal space and social distancing when it comes to each other supremacy <3333

Also can i just say how so very happy yet so very sad Okuyasu makes me? How can this absolute sunshine have such an unfairly harsh life??? LET MY SON BE ALWAYS HAPPY

[teathattast]

friendly reminder to make sure you're getting enough calories and proper nutrition. your brain can't function properly without it, which in turn affects your ability to have healthy emotional regulation and impacts overall mental health

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

6 Types of Rest

Which kind of rest do you need right now? 🎨

😴 Physical rest: sleep, naps, eating pre-prepared meals to save energy, relaxing muscles

👋🏻 Sensory rest: stimming openly, turning off sensory triggers

🧠 Mental rest: turning off from working, meditating, re-watching your favourite shows

☺️ Emotional rest: spending time doing things that make you feel content, talking to people who make you feel secure

📱 Social rest: spending time with yourself, unmasking, refilling your social bucket

🎨 Creative rest: expressing yourself creatively, art therapy, crafting, dancing

Colourblind_Zebra