Tumgik
#medical care tw
continentalblue · 2 years
Note
you wanna have Thoughts? you wanna have Feelings?
we know varian isn't the most careful when it comes to his experiments (and he's gotten a lot better, but he still makes mistakes!) so i just imagine him getting injured and having to see the castle nurse/doctor or someone to patch him up and they're always telling him to be more careful
(i also think that after the new plumbing system was installed in corona, quirin went back to old corona to tend to his pumpkins and stuff and now that varian's alone and doesn't have help he tends to overwork himself a lot more and the injuries increase. mayhaps the nurse/doctor/someone notices and puts more effort into taking care of varian. maybe they even decide to become his assistant or smthn idk)
I'd love to hear some headcanons for this idea, if you have any!
Blue's note: feel free to request Tangled headcanons through my askbox! They can be character or ship hc, I don't really care. I won't do adult/nonadult ships, nsfw, or ships between family. I also won’t write for Varian and the Seven Kingdoms due to my unfamiliarity with it.
--------------------------------------
Blue's Note: I'm not sure if you wanted them to be romantic or platonic, so I wrote them as platonic. Let me know if you want romantic ones!
//cw: headcanons include mentions and depictions of wounds, blood, harm, scarring, and other forms of injury to the body. Please ask me to tag.
Tumblr media
⚗️ Varian held out his arm to you, his face pale. "It's not as bad as last time."
⚗️You sighed, wrapping gauze around the wound. The raised scars surrounding it made you sigh again. "Another steam explosion? Varian, you have to be more careful!"
⚗️"It's worth it if it means I can figure out how to get hot running water to everyone in Corona!" Varian flexed his fingers. "Besides, aren't you a doctor? I'm keeping you in business."
⚗️You rolled your eyes playfully. "Sure, Varian. But seriously though. Can you please be more careful?"
⚗️"No promises."
⚗️You were always telling Varian to be more careful. Crazy kid was going to be the death of you, that's for sure. Your heart always seized up painfully when he stumbled in, clutching whatever injury he had. It was even worse when it was a bloody injury because he would faint and you had to stitch it up.
⚗️Varian finally managed to get hot running water to all of Corona. Honestly, you were very proud of him. It clearly wasn't easy (as evidenced by the lack of gauze and stitches in your supplies.)
⚗️What was worse was that the injuries increased. He used to come in every week for something minor like a cut or a first-degree burn.
⚗️ Now, it was every day.
⚗️ You upped your ante. You spent most of your paycheck on expensive healing balms and lotions for Varian because this shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't be getting hurt this much.
⚗️ As you examined one of his wounds to check its healing, an idea came to you. "I don't know a lot about alchemy or engineering, but I am a pretty good doctor. Maybe I could be your assistant or something? Help patch you up faster? You wouldn't even need to pay me, I'd be happy to do it."
⚗️ "YES! I mean: yeah, sounds good." Varian grinned at you. "You'd really do that for me?"
⚗️ "Someone's gotta keep you alive."
⚗️ You grinned back at him.
17 notes · View notes
ruporas · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
dragon meat, you, and me
15K notes · View notes
fletcherwilbury · 2 months
Text
@whumpuary Day 31: "You're safe."
Warning for Illness, fever, nausea, vomiting, injury, broken bones, stitches, panic attack, lightheadedness, appetite issues, medical care, fatigue, medication
1 note · View note
Text
I'm glad we all agree that talking to the police is a no go, but I wish people would quit it with the "but you can and should ALWAYS tell your doctor/psychiatrist/therapist EVERYTHING!" Because bigoted doctors, ignorant doctors, ableism, medical neglect, forced treatment and medical abuse are all very real and widespread problems. And facts are that I barely know of one single disabled person who has never dealt with a shitty "health care professional". So yes, in an ideal world you SHOULD be able to safely tell them everything all the time, but this is unfortunately not an ideal world, and there are plenty of situations where it isn't actually safe or advisable to do that
835 notes · View notes
mera-kiin · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
he'd just hate to see you cold, doctor
3K notes · View notes
bitchesgetriches · 3 months
Text
NEW POST! A Hand-Holding Guide To Planning the End of Your Pet’s Life
We each lost a beloved dog this month. So we decided to turn our pain into what we hope is a helpful guide.
268 notes · View notes
starwrighter · 11 months
Text
You know what I love in DpxDc crossovers?
When people explain Jason's pit madness as having to do with ectoplasm. Whether it be the hc that the pits are corrupted ectoplasm, Jason being a revenant before being dunked in the pits or any other idea/theory I love it all!
But you know what I don't see much of? The pit madness being seen as something more clinical. In most of the DpxDc crossovers I've read it's always treated as something that can be easily and quickly fixed. I don't see much content about Jason's pit madness being treated like an serious illness and it's honestly underrated.
Make his pit madness be like cancer for ghost's. Something spread throughout his body like a fucked up spider web slowly killing him as it continues to go untreated. Making his life emotionally and oftentimes physically painful. Have Jason assume his pain is just the consequences of his vigilante life since nobody could ever diagnose him with anything.
Danny feeling heartbroken when he sees Jason not because he can sniff it out or sense it but because he can see it. Oftentimes cancer doesn't show symptoms until it's advanced. For Danny this is like seeing someone who's medical treatment has been so neglected that they're covered in tumors! Danny screaming bloody murder at Bruce for allowing things to get this far; for not getting him help and allowing things to fester like this. Danny's ugly crying because he's a child and he doesn't know how to react to something like this! It's a horrifying sight when medical care is neglected, but seeing someone suffering so much without even knowing what's going on? It's terrifying.
Jason trying to comfort Danny but Danny just starts crying harder because Jason doesn't know what the hell is going on and someone has to be the one to tell him.
Treat Jason's pit madness as a symptom of something bigger, not something that can be fixed with the flick of a wrist. Show me the grief of having a loved one/being the loved one suffering from something that has a good chance of killing them. Where the treatment can make you feel worse than the disease does sometimes. Seeing a loved one get weaker and weaker yet reassuring yourself it's just the process of healing and they're going to be fine.
Have it be something that's treatment is long and strenuous, something that might need surgery to fix. Jason needing a bone marrow transplant or an organ and Danny being the only halfa that's willing to give it to him. Jason having to choose whether he's willing to risk a child's life to save himself or if he's just going to die a second time.
(Bonus! Have Jason deny the operation but Doctors work differently in the realms so it's done anyway without his consent. Does Jason think Danny died from the operation? Maybe it's some important ghost bone marrow/organ and the doctors being dodgey and refusing to let anyone see Danny before he's recovered enough? Jason grieving over a child and lashing out because "why would anyone decide the life of a child was something you could throw away like that!")
742 notes · View notes
zinniajones · 1 year
Text
FLORIDA HRT CRISIS: SB 254, effective May 17 2023, banned nearly all new HRT prescriptions and refills of existing prescriptions for trans adults, for up to 6 more weeks or until “emergency” state-mandated consent forms are published by the Boards of Medicine.
Trans care bans were never about “protecting children” — they were about making all trans existence completely impossible. See for yourself.
Tumblr media
(Full quality version)
Please share to help Florida's trans community survive SB 254!
528 notes · View notes
faeriekit · 11 months
Text
Health and Hybrids (V)👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and this is part five💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts
Where we last left off... Batman had a meeting! Danny acquired age appropriate enrichment toys. All is well. You know. Except for the everything else. But it’s fine and MM is on his way so it’ll all be great soon for sure! :)
Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.
💚👻👽👻💚
One…Morning? Evening?
Well. One day, Danny rediscovers his tongue.
Most of the muscle is there. Things taste better after he remembers how to taste.
(If everything tastes like iron, well…Danny tries to ignore that.)
Its main function is social. When Danny needs the quiet humans he can’t see to Shut Up or Go Away!, it is now within his power to blow a raspberry.
A slightly bloody raspberry. But still! A success! And when the fuzzy red human buzzes and whines about scaring them off, Danny blows it one too.
If all it does is make the human cry more, hey. That’s not Danny’s business.
*
The buzzy human comes back with its friends, with fresh sheets, spilling nervousembaras!sednervous all over the room.
Blech. Danny saves himself the trouble and phases through his bed and through the floor below. He does not need to be grabbed again.
He has more energy than he used to. It gets him farther than he’s used to; by the time he finds and works his way through an apple, a pear, and a whole plate of chicken wings, he’s still not sleepy.
…Huh. He rolls over underneath his usual haunt: a conference table. He isn’t feeling the urge to drop into his core. He’s achy, sure, and his limbs hurt and his mouth hurts from eating and he can’t see, but also…
Is Danny bored? Is he finally well enough to be bored of being sick and injured?? That’s. Is that progress? Is it…regression??
Danny sulks under his conference table (his now) with a pile of chicken bones and a few stems and doesn’t know what to do.
If he goes back to his bed…will the sheets already be done? Will people be waiting to get him? Did he lose his…ugh, he doesn’t want to think of them as toys. His…enrichment? Educational tools?
…Okay they might be toys. Whatever. When Danny feels better, he’ll grab something more age appropriate. Maybe he’ll get them from his—
Danny flinches.
…From his house.
If he can get there.
Whatever. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. He wants to figure out how to get rid of his trash without revealing his location. Or leave his conference table shelter.
Danny drums his claws against the low-pile carpet that stretches below him. Should he stay? Rest up? Wait for the threats to his admittedly-kinda-pathetic territory to leave? Should he…go get more food? Should he explore more? He feels all kinds of sore and tired but his head mostly feels clear. Maybe if he—
There’s a hissing noise. Danny bristles. He hisses in like, but—oh. It’s a door.
…Oh. It’s the door.
Uh oh. That’s um. That’s.
Uh oh.
Danny quickly pretends that he hadn’t hissed. He invisibly pushes the top of his head through the thick wood of the conference table. They shouldn’t be able to see anything if he peeks.
Well. Unless they can? But if they can, that’s. Uh. That’s a whole new problem.
Several tall, colorful, adult humans walk into the room. He can’t quite tell how many. Just a bunch. And they’re tall. But hey, they’re color coordinated for easier determination, at least.
Danny lowers himself back down through the table. Should he leave? Will they see him if he tries to leave? Can they spot him?
He sits and worries and he dithers as the humans slowly surround the table and the hidden ghost underneath. Should he…should he go through the floor? Will they know he’s there? Is it even safe to get back to his cot yet?
Feet start appearing underneath the table. Danny shies away from them. He pulls his chicken bones away from them too; if they step on one, they might notice him.
Then everything gets quiet. There’s only one quiet, droning voice.
So maybe Danny peeks again.
There’s a giant shadow at the front. It’s probably human. It has black arms and black legs and a patch of what is probably skin in his very fuzzy vision. It stands beside a lit screen.
Danny squints.
…Oh. He can’t quite tell what it’s about, or what’s exactly is being shown on the screen, but he knows what a powerpoint presentation is supposed to look like: a person, a lot of talking, a screen, and a lot of people listening. They’re just…talking. They’re not even talking about Danny.
Okay. He’ll rest under the table. It seems…safe enough for now.
It’s better to listen to human heartbeats and breathing in a room than it is to sit in his silent one, waiting for some new horror to break the everpresent quiet. Danny lays on his belly, nose to the carpet, and counts how many feet are under the table. (There are sixteen feet.) Some humans are wearing real shoes, with inch-thick soles of hard rubber at the bottom. Some are wearing things that look like shoes, but are too flexible, with soft soles that bend and curl as they flex under the table. Very few of them have laces or fixtures. Huh.
A wrapper falls. Danny watches the ball of foil flutter to the floor, at peace with his position, tired of inspecting shoes. And then a face pops down.
Danny freezes. (It’s not the smartest move.)
The face that popped down probably sees him back, considering how still it goes. And then, very slowly, so slowly, a hand reaches down. Danny flinches back, and—
…It grabs the wrapper. The adult carefully gets back up. The face disappears.
Danny doesn’t move. Danny doesn’t leave. Danny doesn’t breathe.
He waits. The human slowly goes back to tapping its toes, wiggling in its seat—and vibrating, in a way that says bored/bored/bored the way the younger human sometimes does.
…No one says anything. No one does anything. No one jumps under the table to get him, there isn’t a break in the speaker that indicates identifying Danny as Present, or as A Problem. Danny is simply…hidden.
He should leave. It would be smart to leave. Danny would be safer if he left.
But also.
Maybe.
This might be the first time he’s been so close to humans in so long.
They don’t know he’s here. It should be…safe. If he just. Listens to the indistinct sound of human voices. Let them wash over him, like a radio left on in the other room.
Danny’s sated. He’s achy. He’s bored. He’s sad. He’s lonely.
…He stays.
He doesn’t notice his humming or the quiet purr in his chest before the hand comes back down again. Danny flinches away from it, the hum guttering to a stop where it had laid.
There’s something about its hand. The hand came down, before, but now there’s something more to it. Another color—a darker color. It’s hard to tell in the shadow underneath the desk. Maybe a—green? A blue? Maybe?
The hand shifts, just a little. And then the thing comes flying at him. Danny jolts backwards, digging his claws into the mere millimeters of carpeting underneath him, and—
Oh. The thing isn’t moving. It hasn’t even exploded.
Danny reaches out a hand. Taps it, gently. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t attack him. It doesn’t excrete anything acidic or bite him. He sniffs it, just to be doubly sure, and nope. It smells like plastic. The wrapper crunches under his hands, even when everything sounds mute and muffled. The noise is borderline imaginary, so Danny can’t exactly tell what it sounds like when he plays with the little plastic flaps.
He can tell what it is now, though. The food bar goes down whole, wrapper and all, into his gullet.
Nice. The outside tastes bad, of course, but it’s nice.
The hand goes away, and no one bothers Danny. It’s nice. There are voices, but they aren’t yelling. They aren’t mean to him. They aren’t talking about what his insides look like or how bad he is or how to take more pieces off of him.
…Danny’s core thrums evenly. Peacefully. Maybe he will want that nap after all. His body gets kind of grouchy when it comes to plastic. He can pretend that it isn’t grumpy with his improvised diet with a nap.
Danny curls up on the floor, core beating along with the quick and even taptaptaptaptap fluttering of a too-quick human heart, and settles in for a quiet one.
(When he wakes up again, no one is around to see him throw out his chicken bones in the tiny trash receptacle by the doorway.)
(His toys and new sheets are all there when Danny gets back to his cot.)
(He’s too relieved to do anything but take a second nap.)
*
“So,” Wally tries, leaning against the wall. “The… Alien? Extraterrestrial?”
Barry shrugs. Fishes a cheeto out of his bag. “Bart’s been calling it a ghoul. They crashed half a mile off the Kent farm a little after you popped out of the Speedforce; there’s a huge chance something happened to them as part of the temporal anomaly.”
“Happened as in…?”
“Yeah.” Barry takes another cheeto. “Bad.”
And theeeere is the visible guilt. There isn’t exactly any great way for Wally to feel after his unintentional resurrection led to an unintentional…something else.
“…Ah.”
Barry shrugs. There isn’t anything they can do about it; short of rewinding time and shoving Wally back into the Speedforce, which has been shoved off the table with a great deal of force by all of the man’s former teammates, there’s no way to undo the accident that landed the poor alien smacking straight into good-old-fashioned American dirt.
“Don’t worry about the way it happened. It wasn’t your fault, and it sure wasn’t intentional on your part,” Barry points out, and offers the bag of Cheetos towards Wally. The snack is gone in microseconds. The curse of speedsters is really footing the bill of all their emotional eating.
“So, they’re…do we know what they are? Because they definitely shapeshifted fangs as soon as I found their little—whatever that is. Container? Unit? Under the table.” Wally traces the vague shape of the thing’s cerulean heart in the air. “One second I was holding a glass paperweight, and the next I was on the opposite end of a very angry shadow-snake. I think they would have done worse than bit me if it hadn’t had a clear escape route out of there.”
Barry balls the empty bag and shoves it into a pocket. If he litters in the Watchtower, it’s going to be water cooler gossip for years. Bats would never let anyone defile his super cool, super-secret base with garbage without his own form of petty revenge. “Medical says it likely serves as an organ for him,” he says instead, since monologue about how inconvenient it is to be held responsible for his own actions wouldn’t be professional. “So. Think of it less as a container; think of it more as a turtle shell. Medical is pretty sure it’s a part of their body. Messing with it would really hurt them.”
“Yeowch.”
“Mmhmm. One micro-sec.” Barry darts out and away from his nephew; he just remembered he has bottled smoothies in his room. In the time it takes him to fetch two from his mini-fridge—one of his favorite flavor and one of Wally’s—and circle back, the dust motes in the air have hardly even realized he’s gone. They hardly drift even upon his return. “Here.”
Wally catches it easily. To anyone else, Barry would barely have blinked away. To any other Speedster…Barry knows intimately how lethargic and thick time feels against his skull. Slowing down to a mortal, human speed can feel maddening. Sore. Viscerally and bone-shatteringly wrong in his skin, maybe.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Barry would do that and more for his family.
They drink their smoothies.
“You know,” Barry breaks back in, the thoughts of their previous conversation looming lightly in his mind, “Medical says that the fact that we sometimes see their—let’s call it a core—is really, really bad. It’s not a shock that they’re hiding. It would be like climbing in a closet when you’re so vulnerable that you don’t feel like you can defend yourself.”
The rim of Wally’s smoothie bottle drops from his lips. The man frowns. “Oh?”
Barry shrugs. “Imagine losing your skull so that your brain is exposed all the time. Imagine being a cell and having your cell wall break so your nucleus is exposed?”
They both wince at the image.
“Oh boy. And Bart is…playing? With that entity?”
His uncle snorts. “You tell me. I think you’ve seen more of them than I have at the moment. All I did was catch them hanging out in a conference room. I have to admit, the purring can get a little loud in the…” he makes a vague gesture that could mean anything from room to atmosphere to Speedforce.
Wally’s been mostly of the same mind—the physics of the entity, whatever they are, aren’t specifically third-dimensional. It might be related to how they only sometimes manifest, or how they manifest with only partial corporeality.
“It’s been at least some play and some games for him, I’m sure,” Wally admits, a smile pulling at his mouth nevertheless. “I spotted him going through a stim toy website before he suddenly and mysteriously had a mission on the other side of the planet. But I think most of his concern is the…”
Wally winces at the thought of the myriad of medical issues the entity’s faced since his arrival to Earth. Barry’s wince stretches to match. They both saw the report.
“…So it’s been a lot of food on Bart’s part. A lot of managing his care of them too; Superboy and Rob aren’t the most straightforward team in the world, but I think they’re largely keeping Bart in check on this one— not that they’re on base as much as Bart is.”
Wally smiles. It’s not a very happy smile, or very relieved of his earlier guilt, but it’s a smile nevertheless. That’s fine. Barry’ll work on the rest on Sunday; they’re due for a good luncheon out somewhere nice. Their JLA-approved food budget can foot the bill. Maybe…Indian? There’s got to be good food in Delhi they haven’t tried yet.
“At least J’onn’s back on base next week.” Wally sighs, crooked and a little weary. “Maybe this will finally get them to stop running every time someone gets within forty feet of them. Like, they realize they’re losing vital fluids, right? Wait, is Bart even giving them any water?”
“…I’m going to hold off on that worrying thought. I have a different one I’m sweating over. Do we even know if Bart will let our resident telepath get within forty feet of his new playmate?”
Wally groans, face in his hands. Barry can’t help but laugh a little—perhaps tinged with desperation.
Sidekicks. Always with the new problems. At least last time they had this problem, Kon could talk.
307 notes · View notes
ghosts-cyphera · 1 month
Text
okay this is yet another random tiny victory in the book of lo, but tonight I’m taking the last pill of the first package of my new psych meds and I’m proud of myself for managing to take them every day for the past 15 days 💗 !!
Tumblr media
93 notes · View notes
bamsara · 1 year
Note
You got drugged!!!??
Yeah it wasn't great lol
I spent most of that day in the medical tent (I went as soon as I felt *off*) and the health workers took great care of me and were super nice so it worked out in the end. First time going to a music festival was really an experience huh
264 notes · View notes
discord-emote-customs · 4 months
Note
I love your emotes and I really like the self care/ heath ones! I was wondering if you could do some like:
"Take your meds" person holding pill bottle in 1 hand and pills in other hand (neutral or positive face)
"Brush your teeth" person brushing teeth or just holding toothbrush
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
take your meds & brush your teeth emotes ! both with and w/o text !! ^^
Tumblr media
82 notes · View notes
fletcherwilbury · 2 months
Text
@whumpuary Day 30: Alt Prompt 8: Blood Loss
Warning for Illness, fever, exhaustion, injury, blood, medical care, past physical violence, dizziness, broken bones, past fight
0 notes
good-beanswrites · 6 months
Note
If it's okay with you, could you write a drabble about the hypothetical aftermath of Amane getting attacked by Kotoko?
Welp thank you pal for making me absolutely insane with this request 👍 I ran through a few hypotheticals and realized I had to shift some things around since there were so many absolutely tragic outcomes. I worked something out but damn if it didn’t make me emotional to think about how uniquely rough Amane has it. Even making sure she's in a good place at the end, this got pretty serious, so warnings for child abuse and cult references. 
(So in canon, Kotoko goes in order and attacks Fuuta, but Kazui steps in. Then she attacks Mahiru while he’s distracted with his injuries. She’s about to attack Amane, but Mikoto gets in the way (my hc that he did it on purpose survives!). By the time they reach a draw, Kazui is back, and the two of them can prevent Kotoko from any further action against Amane. Sticking to this apparent system of three attacks and one rescue, I’m just shuffling around the injuries for this story. Fuuta’s attack went unnoticed, and he’s in the same state as canon Mahiru. Mikoto steps in before Kotoko can fight Mahiru, so Mappi’s the one who get out physically unscathed. While Mikoto checks on Mahiru, recovers himself, or discovers Fuuta, Kotoko is able to attack Amane next. Kazui comes to help, but not before she leaves Amane looking like canon Fuuta.)
Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.
Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.
“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.
“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane. 
The girl just shook her head. 
She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”
“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.” 
“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...” 
With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her. 
“I can’t let you do that.”
Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.” 
Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”
“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”
Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…” She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”
“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”
“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”
“You just pity me because I’m young.”
“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”
The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend. At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.
“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”
A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.
“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”
“Of course.”
#milgram#amane momose#mahiru shiina#thank you so much! i dont want to be bubbly on such a serious drabble but i want to give an enthusiastic thanks because this one really got#the gears turning!!#i started making plans as soon as i saw the ask and it took so long finding something that wouldnt result in straight up tragedy :(#if i kept to the initial timeline and said kazui didnt step in until amanes attack then both fuuta and mahiru would be close to death#and given there seems to limited supplies i think one of them would have died if shidou needed to treat three critical patients#so i moved people around to make sure everyone survived#which brought me to the main problem of amane self sabotaging her medical care#even minor injuries could have resulted in death if she got her way and removed bandages/refused treatment#but the mental strain of keeping the treatment would be just as bad as the physical pain -- shed be paranoid 24/7 of#divine punishment and repeating the mistakes that led her here.... it would hurt more to be forced like that#so i needed someone to be able to get through to her gently#but the only one who shes been able to trust just got the shit beat out of him and is in no position to talk!!!!#everyone else would just make her more upset or not know how to convince her the right way :(#still - i think mahiru could do it the best! with her own trauma from allowing loved ones to die in front of her i think shed be motivated#so. yeah.#i know amane is supposed to be talking in the plural pronoun now but i couldnt get it to work - lets just say that kicks in soon after this#tw cults#tw child abuse#drabbles
61 notes · View notes
daniemililly · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It's not that medical professionals are evil or something, it's that they're not equipped to judge the lives of disabled people because they largely have no experience comparable to it. They can't empathise because medical culture is fundamentally different than disabled lives, and in the cases of neurodivergent people, they largely can't empathise as neurotypicals with us. We need a culture of care/support that trusts disabled people/those we nominate to be the judge of our own needs
You can read more about the "triple empathy problem" for neurodivergent people in healthcare settings in this paper here: https://sussex.figshare.com/articles/journal_contribution/Barriers_to_healthcare_and_a_triple_empathy_problem_may_lead_to_adverse_outcomes_for_autistic_adults_a_qualitative_study/24424333
80 notes · View notes
meltingcore-end · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Good morning, everyone! My mom needs surgery to remove growths from her wrist. She is unable to afford it and we can't pay out of pocket for it either. Any donation on Ko-Fi is highly appreciated and I'm willing to work for the money too (please see my commissions on my Ko-Fi for details). Examples of what I can do are above!
58 notes · View notes