#in pain with it. the inflammation only really flares up if i do too much or on very cold and wet days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

signedeclipse · 1 year

Note

Hello, it's me again! 🫣 I loved your headcanons about the blind reader! Especially the ones with Hantengu. 😊

This time I would like to request headcanons for Hantengu, Gyokko and Douma with a reader who has a chronic disease. I know this is a serious subject but it's very close to my heart because I suffer from one. I wondered how the demons would react to a partner who has chronic pain and often feels sick. They feel frustrated with themselves and get angry when they can't do certain things because of their illness. I can imagine that they envy the demons for their strength and health and have thought about becoming a demon themselves. They sometimes push themselves too much because they want to keep up with their demonic partner. But when their illness isn't flaring up, they always want to be as active as possible and be close to their partner.

Thank you in advance! Hope you have a wonderful day! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

Douma | Gyokko | Hantengu [X Reader]

In which their s/o is struggling with their chronic pain and tries to push it aside.

Douma

He was always glad that the cold climate you had living with him helped, since for many it was more harmful than helpful

He was familiar with the idea that coolness helped inflammation and helped your body regulate, but he also had to make sure you weren't overdoing it and getting yourself sick

Douma can almost feel your guilt whenever he steps in, so he does his best to remind you in ways that seem less like him telling you

'Can you warm my jacket for me?'

'Could you get the fire started and watch over it until I get back?'

While it may feel good, it makes you more prone to staying out too long and medicine can be hard to get his hands on during certain times

The worst part for him is being so high ranked, because he knows you know of his strength

Will hide it and down play it all the time in hopes you stop thinking about it so often

How impressive could it be if it hurts his favourite human?

Douma would like you to join him in being a demon someday, but he hopes its because you want to be with him as opposed to because you want to escape yourself

Gyokko

His poison art was actually inspired by the fact that he produces a lot of antidotes for some of your more physical ailments to help soothe the feeling

Think aloe vera but so much better

Might even say you can only get it if you hug him so he can produce it where you touch him, but he won't force it if it's really bad and you just want to rest

He has fought in front of you before, so you've seen his regenerative capabilities and the ways he bounces back in seconds, its honestly irritating at times

If only you could sprout a new immune system, or some new joints

Gyokko insists that it's painful and more excruciating than it seems, but he's kind of lying just because he doesn;t want you to feel so inclined to demonise

He makes mini pots for the medicines and salves he learns to make with cork lids so you can use them when you need

Your own personal pharmacist but so so so much better

Hentengu

He's always found himself to be extremely weak and unlucky

But you manage to be so much more unfortunate than him, so he worries for and cries for you more than he does himself

You were so kind to love him, and yet the world cursed you terribly? It's so unfair

Worries that you could die anytime from your ailments even if you tell him that isn't how it works, so he prefers to remain in a range of you to which he can hear your breathing or heart rate

The clones are more than happy to keep you in shape, but Sekido especially keeps you from trying to match them in any way shape or form

"It's ridiculous to expect results like this as a human, we have lived for centuries you haven't."

Whenever you feel light headed or need fresh air Urogi will take you for a little flight, usually by a body of water such as the ocean to enjoy the best air possible

Karaku just jokes that he has enough muscle for the both of you so you'd be greedy to get even more muscular, I mean, leave some for the rest of the clones!

Hates the idea of turning you into a demon but any day if its really bad and you are in enough agony he would do it just to see you smile again

Authors Note - Originally I wasn't planning to do this request because I don't suffer from any chronic pain, but a friend of mine who does decided to beta read so here we are! I hope these can help in some way, wishing you the best <3

#douma #douma x reader #gyokko #gyokko x reader #hantengu #hantengu x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny #kny x reader #kny headcanons #headcanons #x reader #reader insert

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butyoumakemesohot · 2 years

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I have a request if that's okay! Maybe something where Steve is sick with a really bad cold and Robin has been tasked with taking care of him, but when he gets worse she ends up freaking out and calling Eddie for help?

for the sake of this fic pretend that steve & robin are roommates <3 also this one got a little bit angsty, i hope that’s okay! (1.7k words)

cw: mentions of concussions/head injuries

Steve’s been asleep on the couch all morning.

Robin sits cross-legged at his feet, hunched over a book in order to distract herself from his incessant snoring. The sound should be a lot more irritating than it is, but to be honest, it’s a nice reminder that he’s alive. From his pale skin, one would only assume he’s on the brink of death.

If she’s right in thinking he’s caught the same head cold she had last week, he probably feels like he’s dying, too.

Suddenly, he lets out a small, pained groan. Robin lets her book fall onto the coffee table, diligent and doting as she turns her full attention to him. He acted similarly when she was sick; she figures it’s the least she can do now.

More silence. She furrows her brows, placing a hand against his leg. “Steve?”

He groans again, much louder this time, before letting out a weak, scratchy cough. It takes him a moment to work up the energy to speak. “Mby head. *snrff!*”

She can barely understand him due to how hoarse and stuffy he sounds.

“Your head?” she asks. “Does it hurt?”

He nods, fighting to open his eyes. Robin knows from experience how sore they must be. She rushes to grab the bottle of Tylenol off the table, quickly moving to stand over him.

“I think it’s time for more of these,” she says, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. “Uh, you’ll probably have to sit up. Sorry.”

Steve sighs in defeat, then manages to pull himself up, slowly swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. He accepts the medicine with shaky hands, pouring out a couple tablets before reaching for his glass of water and downing the pills with a strong wince.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Is this h-how you felt? Hhehh - Hhh’ESCHHHhew! *sdrf!* Heh’TSCHHHIEW!”

Robin frowns sympathetically as he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away some of the inflammation that’s causing his head to hurt so badly. He lets himself fall back into the couch cushions, a sickly haze filling his eyes as he stares straight ahead.

“Pretty much,” Robin says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

She sits down next to him. He squeezes her knee gently.

“Dot your fault.” He blinks a few times, the rims of his nostrils already flaring again. “Hihh… HP’SCHHHHEW! *snrfg!*” He winces from the force of the sneeze, cupping his hands over his face. “Hh’TCHHHHh! Hh’TSCHHHhh! God - *snfgg* - excuse mbe.”

“Gesundheit. And can you accept my apology for once? I think you look worse than I did.”

Steve smirks. “I beg to differ.”

“Wow. Walked right into that one, huh?” She rises from the couch, gingerly patting the top of his head to smooth down some of his unruly hair. “I’m gonna go make you some soup. You better hope I don’t poison it.”

“Please, put mbe out of mby miiihhhsery - Hheh-! Hh’ESCHHHHh! *snrff!* HeH’TSCHHHHOO!”

Robin assumes he’s joking, but as the day wears on, it’s impossible not to suspect that Steve’s feeling much worse than he’s letting on. He’s only able to eat about half of his food before succumbing to another round of restless sleep, eyes tightly pinched as he fights a losing battle against his throbbing head. She can see it in every aching sneeze, in every congested cough - whatever this is, another round of Tylenol isn’t going to fix it.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can get you?” she asks him after he’s woken up for the second time. He’s letting her keep a towel-wrapped ice pack pressed against his pounding forehead, his own arms too tired to prop it up himself.

Steve sighs shakily. He brings a bundle of tissues to his face, harshly wiping his nose. “Doe - *snnfg!* - just deed to let it pass.”

They’re roughly the same height, but with Robin’s arm draped around him and his head resting against her shoulder, she can’t help but think about how frail Steve looks right now. It’s hugely contradictive to the way he’s always putting himself in harm’s way for her.

“It happeds a lot mbore frequently ndowadays. *snffg!* Whed I’mb sick.”

“What? Your headaches?”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbles. His voice is almost childlike. “I dod’t kndow if you’ve ndoticed, but people love to smack mbe around.”

Her heart sinks a little. “Yeah... I guess that makes sense.”

“Are you sayig I have a punchable face, Buckley?”

Robin giggles, mainly out of delight that he’s still feeling well enough to crack a joke. “Yeah, that’s obviously what I meant.”

Steve smiles back at her just before letting out a series of sudden and ragged coughs, grimacing at the new level of pain it brings to the center of his face. She rubs the space between his shoulder blades while he waits for the fit to pass, lowering the ice from his face so he can properly swipe away the tears that have collected along his lashes.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers.

“What?”

He brings the tissues back up to his face just before he jerks forward. “Hh’ISSSCHHH!-nnggh.” He sniffles wetly, his face screwing up in pain. “Heh’TSCHHHH’uhh… Hh’ESSCHHHHh! Guhh… Ow. *snxxgg!*”

She pats him on the back again, feeling utterly helpless. “Bless you. I’m… sorry. That it hurts so bad. I can’t imagine.”

His red nostrils are still flaring; he folds the tissues over and massages his dripping nose with them, only allowing himself to speak once the burning sensation in his sinuses has dwindled.

“Thangk you,” he croaks. “It’s okay, Rob. Really. You dever beat mbe up.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she says, earning another smile out of him.

Robin likes to think she knows Steve pretty well - has all but memorized his face, no matter how bruised or bloodied it may get. But this look is different. This look - shoulders hunched, eyes glazed over with sickly tears, pale forehead throbbing against her hand as he fruitlessly wipes his tender nose - is something new. She doesn’t know if she can handle it on her own.

She squeezes his hand before offering him the ice pack, rising to her feet. “I’m gonna go get you some more water, okay?”

Steve nods, tiredly lifting the ice to his face. “Okay. Thangks agaid. For, you kndow…” He waves his hand around in a vague gesture. “... everythig. *snrfg!*”

“Anytime, Harrington.”

Luckily, he falls asleep again by the time she works up the courage to make a much-needed phone call.

–

“I think it’s all the previous concussions that are making everything worse. Or at least that’s what Steve said.”

“Yeah, I suppose getting the shit knocked out of you a couple times will do that to you.”

“It was more than a couple of times, actually, but I... Oh, shit. He never told you about Jonathan Byers, did he?”

She and Eddie are speaking in hushed tones, tip-toeing around pieces of furniture to get to the hallway as noiselessly as possible. Eddie quietly shrugs off his jacket and toes off his sneakers, discarding them both by the couch.

“He didn’t have to. That story made its way around Hawkins High faster than the head lice breakout of ‘82. Not my fault, by the way.” He sets down a plastic bag, fishing around until he finds a bottle of cough medicine and a blanket she vaguely recognizes from his trailer. “So… where is he now?”

“I ushered him back to his room not too long ago. He should still be asleep.” Robin hovers around him nervously, forcing a small smile. “Thanks for coming over. He’s gonna be super happy to see you.”

“I mean, it seems like you had the situation under control.” Eddie smiles back at her. It’s more comforting than she’d like to admit. “But I am really glad you called.”

His voice is calm in the face of Robin’s wavering demeanor. She tries to smooth out the worry lines in her forehead, clasping her hands together behind her back so that he can’t see the way she’s been wringing them together for the past hour.

They reach the door to Steve’s bedroom. Eddie enters first, draping the blanket over Steve and tucking it around his trembling frame before perching himself against the edge of the bed. Steve’s back is turned, but Robin can see the way his chest trembles as it rises and falls, stuttering around the constant urge to cough or sneeze.

He shifts when he feels Eddie’s hand on the side of his face, ring-clad fingers affectionately brushing through his damp hair.

“Eddie?” he whispers.

Eddie breaks out into a full-fledged grin upon seeing Steve’s eyes crack open.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I heard we’re not feeling well?”

“Hhhow did you - Hah’PTCHHHHh’uhh…” Steve groans quietly, massaging his swollen sinuses. “Sorry… Hah-! Hh’TCHHHHH! *snrff!*”

“Bless you.” Eddie leans down and presses a kiss to Steve’s pale forehead. “Let’s just say I’m here to relieve Robin of some of her nursing duties. You know I like to work a night shift.”

It’s not much of an explanation, but Steve must be too exhausted to ask for specifics, because he just yawns, mindlessly scrubbing his nose with the corner of Eddie’s blanket. The longer-haired boy doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

“Gotcha.” He sniffles thickly. “I’mb really glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Harrington. Me too.”

Steve pauses, lowering the blanket from his face in realization. “Wait… is this yours?”

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it?” Eddie asks, affectionately pressing his thumb against the worried crease between Steve’s brows.

“Y-Yeah, I just dod’t wadda - Hh’ESSCHHHH’uhh!… - idfect it with my germbs. *snrk!* I’mb pretty gross.”

“You’re never gross. Here.” He passes Steve the bandana from his back pocket. “Blow some of that gunk out for me, okay? You’ve already had, what, two sinus infections this year?”

Steve lifts the bandana to his face briefly, then shakes his head in defeat. “Cad’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“It hurts. *snffgg!* Whed I blow, it hurts mby - Hh’ESCHHHH! - mby head - Heh’TSSCHHHh!” His features twist horribly as another wave of pain hammers in his skull. “Fuck. *snxxg!* Ouch.”

Steve’s thick, wet sneezes and frustrated cursing are accompanied by a sudden flash of tears that Robin can see dribbling down his cheeks. Her chest tightens in a panic as she quietly backs towards the door, hoping that he can’t sense her presence. He’s probably already embarrassed enough to be crying in front of Eddie.

“Shhh, hey, hey.” Eddie’s voice is impossibly soothing.

“Sorry, I just - *snurrf!*” He drags a hand over his face, his features crumpling slightly. “It really hurts, Eds.”

“I know it hurts, baby. C’mere.”

Robin can’t hear much of what he says after that. His head is ducked down close to Steve’s so he can look him in the eyes, his fingers grazing against the younger boy’s damp cheeks. Suddenly, he grasps Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug so tight that Robin can feel the phantom of it from her spot in the doorway. Steve squeezes him back roughly, his shoulders starting to shake.

It’s almost hypnotizing, this strong display of emotion. Robin doesn’t realize she’s frozen in place until her eyes trail over Eddie’s face, peeking out from behind Steve’s hair to mouth, I’ve got him.

If it were anyone else, Robin wouldn’t believe it. But it’s Eddie, and Eddie has yet to prove her wrong about pretty much anything when it comes to Steve, so she nods. She exits the room with the strongest wave of relief she’s felt in a while. Eddie’s got him.

#also ik you sent this in a while ago so thank you for being patient <3 #snzfic #sneeze fic #sickfic #whump #hurt/comfort #snzblr #snz kink #sh #em #rb #st #st/eddie

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newhologram · 2 years

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New's Ketamine Diary

7.30.22 Unfamiliar Stability

Trips have been really mellow still, which isn't really a bad thing. I bounce back a lot faster now and haven't needed to use my cane around the house as much after. Still not sure if the humidity did something to the troches or if it's time to discuss upping the dose.

Had to do a dose 2 days late because of PET scan and other things going on. It was a pretty easy trip, with not as intense out-of-body feelings, but still some nice visuals. I saw stop-motion Khonshu and it was interesting. Luckily my mental health had already been fine, but it was nice to have this little boost.

Then 5 days went by without me realizing it was already k day again, oops. I was still feeling so great mentally and emotionally that it wasn't even on my mind, although it could have been a dissociation episode. But like in a good way? I don't know. Even though I've been so laid out from multiple flare ups and 3-5 doc appts per week, I've been thankfully supported by a fun and intensely therapeutic special interest. Even after a stressful family emergency and having to run the house and do errands by myself for a week AND work two days in a row, I feel okay. I'm tired and in pain, I'm frustrated, but I feel very level. I feel good, like I can handle all of this.

Two weeks before my period, I usually have really deep depression. I definitely had intense chocolate cravings. Like probably the most intense of my life. I tried to limit myself but I was eating a lot of it. I could feel that my hormones were being wacky but there was zero depression. Crankiness at my chronic pain, sure, but less intense than usual.

I thought maybe it was because I was so distracted by just having fun with special interests. It's also likely because I've been doing ketamine therapy regularly for 4 months now. It may be finally built up in my system enough by now.

But I did also buy an essential oil balm for periods (by Cora, for anyone interested) and have been using it every night all over my belly. I used to make my own blends all the time and used a lot of clary sage/jasmine/ylang ylang for hormone chill, but haven't been able to afford my essential oil hobby in quite some time. So having this again in my daily routine may be helping too, but--

Now doctors are finally giving me enough Tramadol and Xanax that I can use it on bad days 1-3x a week, which means I'm able to not only be more productive, but rest and recover better. I'm still generally struggling to sleep, summertime insomnia is always bad. But I've been having some good nights. I still feel like I got hit by a truck when I wake up, but the little extra spoons I have can be used to cook and do things for myself that will give me more strength. Obviously having better pain management and emergency meds for bad days has a positive impact on my mental health.

This kind of mental and emotional stability and contentment is unfamiliar to me. At least, lasting this long. It's usually fleeting, before a C-PTSD trigger or hormones or a flare up steamrolls any sense of hope I had cultivated. I spoke about it a few times with my therapist, because it's just not something I'm used to, which is why I kept wondering if I've just been dissociating. So I'm trying to familiarize myself with this kind of place, and to be present in it.

PET scan and labwork results came back generally okay, inflammation as expected in my gut, will check back with oncologist in a few months but again, I think this is just more evidence to suggest endometriosis.

In a few weeks I see the gynecological oncologist, who technically does endo surgery, but again… probably not the kind I need. What a mess.

#teku #new's ketamine diary

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meditating-dog-lover · 3 months

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Eczema - oranges and potatoes

So good news. Yesterday I went to the grocery store to buy an orange and some potatoes so I can test if I'm sensitive to those.

I had the orange yesterday. I didn't react to it, maybe just a bit of itchiness but that can be caused by something else like a reaction to cold weather. I have an itchy spot on my neck that recently formed, and I was itching it yesterday night. But thankfully I did not have a bad flareup.

I react badly to tomatoes, which are a part of the nightshade family. So are eggplants, peppers, and white potatoes. I wanted to see if I had a general nightshade sensitivity or to tomatoes only. So I had some small white potatoes for dinner (I seasoned them with avocado oil and non-pepper spices, and baked them). They were very good and thankfully I haven't flared up from them. I'll wait until tomorrow morning, but I'll be happy if I don't develop a reaction because I would hate to cut them out of my diet. I ate them with the skin (the skin is the inflammatory part, not so much the potato itself). Despite that I feel fine.

I'm going to eventually test for peppers (both bell and spices); they are also nightshades. But I'm happy to find out that I don't react negatively to wheat, dairy, citrus, eggs, fish, nuts, peanuts, caffeine/dark chocolate, nor potatoes.

I met with an allergist today who suggested I do a patch test because I have signs of contact dermatitis. I booked that for next week. I get it on my mouth and hands which suggests there is likely contact dermatitis, as opposed to me developing eczema all over my body (thankfully I don't). I feel like doing this test is 100% worth it and I'm looking forward to seeing the results.

I'm also going to consider ordering another food sensitivity test because collecting enough blood for the first one I ordered was so frustrating and the collection method for this new kit I found is much easier. I would normally get this done at a doctor's office, but unfortunately most doctors do not recognize food sensitivities like they recognize allergies. Allergies mediate an IgE response, sensitivities mediate an IgG response. So they're a bit different. Food allergies will manifest as hives, swelling and anaphylaxis whereas food sensitivities will manifest as inflammation (migraines, joint pain/arthritis, gastrointestinal discomfort, and eczema/skin rashes). So food sensitivities may sound gimmicky to some doctors, but if you're someone like me struggling with an inflammatory condition, then you know they're 100% real.

So I think both the patch and food sensitivity tests will be very helpful for my eczema. I've noticed my skin healing and looking less inflamed. I'm avoiding tomatoes which is a great start. I'm also glad I don't react badly to citrus nor potatoes. Later this week I'm going to test out if I react to peppers (I might buy a bell pepper or some spices; and on Friday I'll try buffalo wings instead of pizza from the pizza store I like to get food from for my family at the end of the week). Pizza of course has tomato sauce, so that's not good for me.

Ever since the problems in Gaza started, my eczema got worse. I'm certain this had an effect on my stress levels, even though I may not notice it too well because I unfortunately deal with stress and anxiety all the time.

Nutritional deficiencies in anti-inflammatory nutrients, like vitamin D and omega 3 fatty acids, also cause eczema. Most people are deficient in these, so supplementing can help. This, as well as stress reduction and identifying your allergy and sensitivity triggers, can help with addressing the root cause of eczema and hopefully lead you down the path to clear and healthy skin. I really cannot wait, I will find a solution just like how I found a solution to all my other health issues.

I've also heard that there is a link between leaky gut and eczema. But I haven't looked into this enough, nor have I been tested. I also hardly experience gastrointestinal discomfort. L-glutamine is good for leaky gut.

Just as a note: I'm not a dietician nor a nutritionist. I'm just a scientist and an average everyday person who unfortunately struggles with a chronic, inflammatory skin condition. I know I talk about food sensitivities and cutting out foods in this post, and I actually hate the constant fear mongering around food that I see online by people who are not qualified nor specialized in the field. As a scientist, I love researching the diverse causes of various health conditions, and it happens to be the case that my condition can be caused by food sensitivities. My goal isn't to fear monger about food, it's to find solutions for my condition. If you don't have any sensitivities (to certain food groups or to all foods) and you don't have any chronic inflammatory conditions, then don't cut foods out. Enjoy your life.

Update: I am writing the day after and I did not wake up with a flareup. So potatoes are perfectly fine for me to eat

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nemuran · 11 months

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A notice regarding Nemuran's art & streaming activity

Hello!

As you've noticed, I haven't been really active for a while stream-wise, and even with my art, as much as I would like to draw, I have to hold back. I just remembered I haven't explained it here, so please allow me some of your time for a bit of an explanation.

Short version for those who don't have much time, or otherwise want to give it a quick read only:

Due to health reasons, as well as some personal issues, I am presently unable to stream at all, and my art productivity is slowed down. I might still doodle from time to time, or complete some illustrations or paintings; however that is not a promise, and it won't be any more than that. In any case, if you are reading this, thank you for giving me some of your time, and hopefully I can recover soon to slowly put things back into what or how they should be.

Near the middle of the month of April, I tested positive to COVID for the first (1st) time. Despite me being more vulnerable to it, vaccination isn't an option for me due to my pathology, which means that I haven't ever been vaccinated for it. If it were just that, however, I've been lucky not to show many symptoms, at least. However, there is another issue;

Around the same time, I had a flare-up related to my pathology, which manifests in the form of an inflammation. COVID, too, is a bit inflammatory by nature, and both being combined is probably why my flare-up hit so hard on me;

As of today (4 July 2023), I still haven't recovered my sense of smell, which, luckily, doesn't bother me that much. However, I am still heavily affected by my flare-up as it hasn't really calmed down yet. Presently, I am mostly bedridden, and getting me out of bed even for a minute puts me through a lot of pain, even with all the medication I'm given;

Additionally to all of this, I am also extremely exhausted on both the physical and mental levels, due to these past 3 years having been hell for my mom and I, and some recent events with "friends" as well, which only made my condition worse — again, both physically and mentally, as my physical pains are intensified due to how deep my mental scars are.

And that's basically it. If you're still reading, thank you a lot for bearing with me and reading the longer version, as well as for all your support. Please do remember to take care of yourselves, and hopefully, we can meet again soon!

#nemupdates

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

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baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #yes i watch grey's what about it

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arcticfox007 · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

This is my first time doing Suptober and I probably won’t do every day (and am already a day late) but I thought it would be a good creativity boost and looking through all the other work it seemed like a lot of fun! Thanks to @winchester-reload for organizing this :)

Check it out on AO3!

Castiel hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation. He was supposed to be on break, but had volunteered to reset room 5 for the next patient because he knew his friend Alex had been in dire need of a break. Cas was only a volunteer, spending his junior year of college shadowing various medical professionals to get a better idea of what a career in medicine would really be like. When Alex had suggested shadowing one of the doctors she worked with, he’d readily agreed, knowing that his friend spoke highly of both Dr. Barnes and Dr. Fitzgerald.

He’d already spent the past few hours shadowing Dr. Fitzgerald (or Garth as he insisted on being called) and had seen enough to realize that Family Medicine was understaffed and struggling to do the best they could for their patients given the absurd constraints on their time. Garth was currently seeing a patient who didn’t want a stranger in the room, so the doctor had told Cas to grab some lunch. Cas had intended to do just that when he saw Alex making frantic phone calls at the front desk. When she’d hung up, she’d looked at the end of her rope, explaining to Can that one of the other nurses called out and she couldn’t find anyone to cover for them.

Which is how Cas ended up in room 5 wiping down the surfaces and pulling a new paper cover over the bed. Cas knew all about patient privacy, but really, the conversation easily carried into the room when the man who must be one of Dr. Barnes patients had decided to continue talking to her out in the hallway. The man had a compelling voice and by the time Cas realized he was eavesdropping it was too late to avoid it as leaving room 5 now would have only made the unsuspecting patient realize he’d been overheard.

“Um, and, I’m really sorry about this doc, but I probably can’t afford the bill for today’s services right away.”

“Dean, just call Meg like I told you. Our pharmacy here is amazing at finding co-pay cards for these types of medications.”

“I will talk to her, I swear. It’s just when we had to switch insurance plans the new one says the co-pay for that grade of medicine is $100 a dose. I’m honestly not sure I can make that work Dr. Barnes.”

“I understand, but you need this medicine Dean. Your RA will flare right back up without it. If that happens you eventually won’t be able to work at all. Even skipping doses is ill-advised, letting the inflammation persist could eventually cause permanent damage to your joints.”

“I get it doc, I do, but $400 a month? It’s basically choosing between eating and my ability to move without pain.”

“Dean, just talk to Meg. We will figure something out. At least promise me you’ll take the Humira every other week. I know it didn’t manage your symptoms well at the lower dose before, but it was still better than letting the RA go untreated.”

Dean must have responded to Dr. Barnes in some way Castiel couldn’t hear, because after a few moments the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading as they moved towards the front desk. Cas hurried out of room 5, the trash bag hanging unnoticed from his wrist. His heartbeat sped up as he worried that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of “Dean” before he left the office. Cas didn’t really know what he was planning on doing, just that he couldn’t stand the thought of this man resigning himself to pain all because the healthcare industry was such an awful mess that it would burden someone with choosing food over medicine. Something about the way Dean had sounded reminded him so much of his sister, Anna, right before she had left Castiel forever. That feeling drew Cas forward to meet a man he didn’t know. Cas couldn’t solve Dean’s money problems, Cas couldn’t force the government to change how healthcare was run in the country, Cas couldn’t even make Dean’s medical issues any better – but he could meet this man and maybe make him smile for a moment. Maybe, if he was brave enough, he could offer him some sort of friendship so maybe he would have one more person to help him through his struggles. Cas had been too young to understand how alone Anna must have felt but he knew more about it now. Helping people like Anna was what had drawn Cas to medicine in the first place.

Turning the corner Cas was startled to see what could only be a 6-foot flannel-wearing freckled god. The man was Hollywood beautiful and for a moment Cas forgot what had brought him rushing around the corner in the first place. The sound of Alex pointedly snapping her fingers brought Castiel back to reality as he broke of his inappropriate staring. He felt his skin heat up rapidly as he blushed.

“Did you finish room 5, Castiel?” Alex stared at him expectantly. Silently, Cas handed over the trash bag and muttered something about taking his lunch break outside. Too embarrassed by his very obvious admiration of the man that must have been Dean, Cas didn’t think he could talk to him in front of Alex. He rushed out the front door in the hopes that the autumn air would help him pull himself together. He didn’t know why he’d felt so compelled to talk to a man who’s private and very personal conversation he’d overheard. He was almost glad that his humiliating gawking had saved him from speaking to the guy. After all, what would he have said anyway? The air alone wasn’t helping Castiel’s composure, so he began pacing in front of the building.

“I mean how do you go up to a stranger and tell them they aren’t alone and that good things do happen? It’s not like it wouldn’t embarrass the guy to know I overheard him talking about his money problems…” Cas froze as he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

“Uh, hey man. I actually came out to ask you something else, but I think this just got awkward.” Cas took a deep breath already knowing it was Dean standing behind him. Cas’ habit of muttering to himself when anxious had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, but never quite as badly as this felt. Sadly, his fervent wish to turn invisible on the spot was being ignored by the universe and he found himself staring into striking green eyes while wondering how he could possibly salvage this situation.

“H-hello Dean. I’m Castiel, and I can’t apologize enough for overhearing your conversation with Dr. Barnes. I swear it wasn’t intentional, I was cleaning out the room you were standing near and – “

“Whoa, hold up buddy. I’m not mad or anything. I mean, it wouldn’t be my topic of choice to start chatting up the hot new guy at my doctor’s office, but you clearly work in healthcare, I’m sure you’ve heard the same thing from lots of folks.” Cas’ brain froze a bit when Dean referred to him as hot, but then it caught up with what he was actually saying.

“Er, actually I’m just shadowing Dr. Garth for the day, but yes, I have heard stories like yours. My sister, Anna, went through something similar. That’s why I wanted to say something to you but wasn’t sure what. Then I actually saw you and, well, you saw. I’m not really good with subtlety. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” Dean threw his head back with a barking laugh and Cas found himself staring at the beautiful man yet again.

“Having someone like you checking me out definitely doesn’t make me uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I came out hoping to ask if you’d be interested in going to the Harvest Festival tonight. I have to work for a bit at my store’s booth but if you were free around 7, I’d love to talk with you more. Even if it’s just whatever you wanted to talk to me about before.” Dean smiled flirtatiously at Cas, and there was no way to resist that.

“Yes, I’d love to! Where should I meet you?”

They exchanged information quickly, and parted ways with matching smiles. Cas would get his chance to tell Dean how his sister gave up her fight with cancer because she knew her treatments were bankrupting the family. He’d tell him how he’d was hoping to be a doctor himself one day to maybe help someone else like Anna win their fight despite the shitty healthcare system. He’d also tell Dean that he’d chased him down the hall because he’d desperately wanted to tell him that maybe they were strangers, but that he hoped Dean didn’t give up and that he’d be willing to be there for him if having a friend would help.

Now though, Cas thought maybe he’d already made Dean’s day a bit brighter, and he looked forward to getting to know the handsome man better. Maybe his impulse to offer his friendship to a stranger wasn’t as insane as it first seemed, and if Castiel was reading things right perhaps friendship wasn’t the only thing they had to offer one another.

#suptober21 #arcticfox007writes #Destiel #Destiel fanfic #castiel #dean winchester #supernatural fic #yeah I know I barely worked in the prompt #my bad

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lit-in-thy-heart · 3 years

Text

Gwaine’s fingers hadn't stopped burning since the beginning of the training session. He'd been able to feel the sweat clinging to the pores of his skin and crawling up his hands as the sun had glared down on them. It hadn't been this bad for weeks. The summer, by usual standards, hadn't even been as terrible as it usually was; apart from one painful patch on his palm where the skin had split, Gwaine’s hands had remained largely clear of any eczema, but training had brought out a rash-like appearance that Gwaine knew would transform into clusters of dry and inflamed skin in a matter of days.

Still, he'd struggled until the end of the session and had resisted the urge to scratch the irritated areas by retrieving the scrap of material he'd used to wear before becoming a knight and tightly winding it around his hand. Unfortunately he only had the one, so he'd simply curled his second hand into a fist and had slipped away.

And now he was currently staring at a bucket of water in his chambers, contemplating whether or not plunging his hands in it for temporary relief would be worth the agony of having to dry his skin afterwards. If it didn't disappear before the world grew colder, then winter would be hell.

Mouth pressed in a thin line, Gwaine unwrapped the cloth and shoved both hands into the bucket of water with a suppressed groan. As a child, his eczema had largely been contained to the joints of his elbows in warm weather and, after the age of around five, had disappeared altogether. Its return had coincided with his father's death as a teenager and that's when it had been all over his hands.

Most of the time it was manageable. There was the rare occasion where the skin did split open and caused all hell to break loose for a couple of weeks before it healed up, but for the most part Gwaine could get on with his life. But then there were times like this, where the fluctuating weather and physical activity pushed his skin to breaking point and his fingers were left feeling stiff and inflamed and he wanted nothing more than to scrape everything off.

But he gritted his teeth and moved through it. Or tried his best to, at least. There was a sound at the door and Gwaine started, reflexively removing his hands from the water and delicately drying them off with a cloth by pressing down on his hands. It stuck to his skin and pulled at his fingers but he forced himself to remain as impassive as possible as Merlin and Lancelot, holding hands that were completely smooth to the touch, entered the room.

Lancelot dropped a kiss to the top of his head as he approached the table. 'Hey, love, you disappeared after training.'

'Was getting too warm,' Gwaine replied, kissing Merlin’s cheek clumsily as they rested their head on his shoulder to examine the water. 'You both alright?'

'Fine,' mumbled Merlin. 'What are you doing?'

'Just washing.'

Gwaine knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, but he couldn't help but feel like the condition would be nothing but an impediment if it was discovered. Alone he could manage it. It was a nuisance, but he could do it. If the others knew then they might tell him to take a break or, worse, to get a grip of himself. It meant that he wouldn't be able to hold either of his partners' hands for several weeks until the flare-up died down but they probably wouldn't have wanted to touch it anyway.

Lancelot frowned. 'Since when have you washed alone?'

Gwaine shrugged, avoiding his gaze and standing up. 'It was too warm and I couldn't wait.'

'That's twice now you've said it was too warm,' observed Merlin.

Gwaine opened a window and kept his head turned away. 'It was.'

'Are you hurt?' Lancelot asked, dropping Merlin’s hand and approaching Gwaine again. He pressed one hand to the small of Gwaine’s back. 'Gwaine?'

'No, I'm fine,' Gwaine quietly said, glancing around with a small smile. 'You don't need to worry.'

'You kept flexing your hands in training.' Merlin had joined them. 'Are you sure you're not hurt?'

'I was just readjusting my grip on the sword. Honestly, it's fine.'

'Let me see,' Merlin softly demanded. 'Show me your hands.'

'It's fine—'

'Gwaine,' Lancelot sharply cut in, 'just show us.'

Steeling himself, Gwaine turned around and flung out his hands, palms facing down. 'There. Satisfied?'

With a frown, Lancelot traced the rash scattered across Gwaine’s fingers. 'Is it some kind of infection? Were you wounded and you didn't tell us?'

'It's not an infection,' whispered Gwaine. 'It's a skin condition. It's fine, mostly, just the heat and the physical activity today made it flare up. It's fine.'

Merlin delicately slipped their hand beneath Gwaine’s palm. 'Does it hurt?'

'It could be worse. It has been worse.'

'But does it hurt?'

'Not really. It's more of a burning sensation, that's all. Just feels hot.' Gwaine withdrew his hands and shoved them in his pockets, allowing the friction of the movement to momentarily soothe him. 'It goes away for a few weeks, then returns again. Nothing can be done about it.'

As Lancelot rubbed his shoulder, Merlin bit their lip. 'Gaius might have a salve that can reduce the inflammation. It won't cure it, but it would make it easier to deal with?'

'I wouldn't want to waste it for people who might actually need it,' Gwaine quietly replied.

Lancelot's grip tightened. 'You need it, love.'

Merlin pressed a kiss to his forehead. 'Give me two minutes, I'll be right back.'

With a nod, Gwaine fell against the wall, avoiding Lancelot’s eye. As much as he loved him, there was always the niggling idea that he had to be as good as Lancelot in being able to protect Merlin if needed, and the thought that he wouldn't be if he could be slowed down by stiff hands—

Fiercely, he shook himself. It was ridiculous to think that. He wasn't any less capable of protecting Merlin just because his hands felt like they were on fire. He'd managed to protect himself, in the years alone and wandering, with blistered and broken skin. And if he could do that, he could protect Merlin.

It was Lancelot’s voice that snapped him back to reality. 'How long have you had this?'

'Since I was a teenager. On and off. It's alright, I'm used to it now.'

Lancelot cupped Gwaine’s cheek with a flawless palm. 'Still. It can't always be easy.'

'Lance, it's fine, really. I make enough of a big deal out of it already.' Gwaine sighed. 'It's worse during hot nights, when I just want to tear off my own skin. During the day it's usually okay.'

Kissing him gently between his eyebrows, Lancelot rubbed his shoulder. 'Hopefully the salve will help.'

Gwaine rested his forehead against his partner's. 'Hopefully.'

'I have it!' came a triumphant voice. Merlin had returned, in seemingly record time, and held a small pot in their hand. 'Hopefully it won't make it worse.'

'Don't say that,' Gwaine said, leaning into Lancelot as Merlin approached.

Grinning, Merlin removed the lid and put a large amount on his fingers, holding them out to Gwaine. When Gwaine offered up his hands, he kept his lips tightly sealed as Merlin lathered the salve over his skin and ignored the intensity of the burning sensation. If it hurt, it meant it was working, that was what he'd always been told.

The smell wasn't unpleasant but he couldn't quite define what it was but, as Merlin continued to cover his hands, Gwaine decided it didn't matter. There was a slim possibility that his condition might improve and, if not, then at least he could enjoy Merlin and Lancelot refusing to let him carry anything for himself for the rest of the week.

#i wanted to write something like this several months ago after a bad flare-up but never got round to it #luckily for you bright sun and physical activity apparently causes it to return at double the intensity :D #it's all fine though it could be much worse #they probably didn't have any treatments for it in camelot's time but fuck it gwaine deserves a little relief from it #gwaine #merwaincelot #lancelot #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin fanfic #lit writes #eczema

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athenadione · 3 years

Note

Prompt #88 with Jayrae, with Raven as the person who got hurt. Pretty please?

Muahaha *cracks knuckles* don’t mind if I do. Thanks for the prompt anon! It fed my angsty soul. (Also, sorry all for the hiatus in updates. Life is... hard).

‘Toxic Vengeance’

Pairing: JayRae Words: 2,296 Rated: M - Warnings for cuss words, graphic scenes of violence, and major angst.

When the knife slashes her thigh, it instantly feels like it’s on fire.

With a hiss, she draws back.

It’s as if someone pressed a red-hot branding iron to her leg, then twisted it deeper into the marred flesh for good measure—but instead of dulling, the burning sensation is growing at an alarming rate, spiraling up her entire leg.

Another hooded figure dashes from her right, and with a wave of power she forces them back with a glittery black claw. They hit the nearest brick building with a thud. Another jumps from above to replace them, and she throws up a shield with her other hand, halting the strike of their sword in mid-air. More are filling the alley, coming from the shadows. The burning in her leg is now more of an afterthought as her adrenaline spikes.

I need to end this now. “Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos.”

Her power flares, and strikes through the figure, sending it back, along with the others in one large surge. There’s a series of grunts, followed by the clattering of weapons, before all she can hear is her own harsh breathing and blood from her heartbeat rushing in her ears.

Amethyst orbs search the alley with skepticism, expecting another cohort to flood the street. Another minute of scouring, then she releases a breath when she’s certain it’s over.

The attack had happened the second she turned the corner to investigate the stain of dark magic covering the adjacent building. She had been following whispered rumors of a rising national occult for weeks, eventually leading her to Crime Alley of all places.

A groan escapes one of the men. Her attention shifts to see him lying slumped against the wall, hood fallen. His face is covered in old ancient markings, confirming both the reasons for her suspicion and dread.

The marks of Scath. It appears her father’s followers are growing in power. Now, she needs to find out why—and who is behind it. They know who I am and purposefully drew me out here. This is more than I anticipated.

Is their leader someone I know? Maybe Blood?

As the adrenaline begins to flow out of her body, she becomes keenly aware of the burning pain that’s replacing it. When the burning in her thigh flows down to her toes and up the side of her body, she realizes that her heart rate hasn’t slowed and neither has her breathing.

Glancing down at her leg, she curses at the blood flowing freely from the wound. It’s deep, and is now starting to bubble. A bright red streak grows across her leg—a clear sign of inflammation.

Poison. It’s not one that she recognizes—nor is it one that her demon-half can expel.

Not good.

Once the severity of her situation sets in, so does her panic, and she stumbles when another flare of pain sends her head spinning. She staggers over to the brick wall, laying one arm against her forehead. It’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

It’s too late to call Nightwing or Batman; They wouldn’t be able to make it in time, and she doesn’t know if she has the capacity to transport herself to the cave.

There’s only a handful of other people she trusts that knows more than just the basics of toxicology.

Black specks dance along her vision and she tries to blink them back, shaking her head with considerable effort.

There’s only one other option.

With the last of her failing strength, her eyes blind an iridescent white, and inky black tendrils snake around her, enveloping her into its depths.

A moment later they release her and she stumbles across the threshold into a musty apartment. It doesn’t help that it’s completely dark, and the pound of her heart now seems louder than before.

Somewhere within the confines someone curses loud.

Her thoughts are becoming more clouded, and it’s getting harder to breathe. There’s a growing fervency to keep walking, and she does, intent to find him.

A heat sizzles over her skin, heightening at her thigh.

She whimpers, and her knees buckle—legs no longer able to support her weight. She’s so out of it she doesn’t even brace for the ground.

He catches her before she hits.

“Jesus Christ, Raven. What happened to you?” His breath tickles her ear, and she shivers—though from his voice or her wound she’s not sure.

“Ambush. Poison.” She gasps through another wave of burning pain that shoots all the way up to her chest.

Another curse and she’s being lowered against his door as fingers begin to ghost over her body.

“Where? What kind?” He finds the wound and bright emerald eyes flare as they meet her. They swirl and morph into one before her eyes, and she blinks, swallowing back a sudden wave of nausea.

“Alley…knife…I don’t know. I’ve never… ” she trails off, barely getting the words out as her shortness of breath increases.

“Fuck. Fuck,” an arm presses her shoulder back when she begins to slump over. “You cannot pass out on me princess. I need you to stay awake.”

“Sorry,” she says, slurring her words. She’s growing exceedingly dizzy and her vision is blurring faster. She can’t get enough air to breathe.

Something jars her. “Raven, stay with me.”

Her heart feels like it’s going to tear and claw its way out of her chest, and for a moment she thinks it is.

It beats faster, and faster, and faster.

“Rae, open your eyes. Look at me.”

But then it stops.

“Raven.”

And all she knows is darkness.

“Stand by. Preparing to shock.”

There’s a loud, involuntary gasp, and a charging whine.

“Shit. I swear to God you better not fucking die on me Rae.”

“Evaluating heart rhythm… no shock advised. Continue CPR.”

The sound of pumping compressions fills the air. Green eyes glow as they glare at her prone figure.

“Breathe Goddammit!”

When he bites his lip, it’s hard enough to draw blood, but at least he managed to blink back the sudden, unbidden tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes.

He tries not to shake his hands when he hears her sternum crack underneath the heel of his palm.

“What are you doing on this com-line Hood?” The growl in his ear is laced with caution, and he can’t blame him. At least he answered.

He gets to the point fast. “It’s Raven, she was poisoned. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s systemic,” he pauses as the voice in his ear curses. “She’s coding Nightwing, get someone to my apartment now.”

There’s another tense pause as Dick listens to Jason’s sharp exhales coinciding with his compressions.

“Where?”

“The one closest to the Alley, on 3rd.”

“Z will come teleport us. AED?”

Jason stops and sits back on his haunches as the defilibrator analyzes again. The machine’s response only heightens his fear.

“No shock. Continuing CPR, it’s been a few minutes,” he swallows thick as he checks her carotid pulse again. Nothing. “I’m losing her godammit, hurry the fuck up.”

“On our way.”

He immediately cuts the transmission to focus on his task.

One, two, three, four, five...

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s been counting to thirty, just that he’s done it over and over.

A cacophony of motion behind him almost interrupts his concentration. Someone places a gloved hand on his shoulder with urgency.

“She needs to be transported to the Watchtower as soon as possible.”

Lips press together firmly, then he nods. Allowing Zatanna to intervene, she envelopes the empath in her magic. They leave the AED pads attached.

In seconds, they’re gone. Then the others turn to follow.

“I’m going with her.”

Nightwing stills, eyes flicking to Batman.

The resounding silence is near palpable. Nightwing takes a tentative step forward, breaking it.

“Little wing… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Fluorescent eyes shine with stone-cold defiance.

“You can’t stop me.”

Batman grunts—the closest thing he’ll ever get to an affirmation. It’s a sizable achievement, but he doesn’t feel victorious at all.

She’s still in cardiac arrest, but if anyone can help her it’s Zatanna.

And if there’s anyone that can overcome something like this it’d be her.

Come on princess, come back to me.

She codes three more times in the medbay. The crash team hovers as everyone else tirelessly searches for the right antidote.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

While he watches her Nightwing briefs him on her mission. He listens. It’s a distraction. Then white hot anger licks and gnashes up his chest to his throat with each word until he’s fisting his hands tight to hide the tremors.

“... I thought it might be Blood but assassins and poison isn’t really his style. Do you think the League could have something to do with this?” Nightwing asks beside him.

His response is slow and level, revealing no hint of the turbulence of emotion that lies underneath, “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

Nightwing gives him a pensive stare, but says nothing.

Jason narrows his eyes.

Dead. They’re all fucking dead.

They’re able to create one an hour later. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see someone breathe.

He waits until she’s stable before slipping away. The teleporter still recognizes him as Robin, and he’s not sure what to think about that when he steps onto the platform.

Batman gives him a look that he acknowledges as both a warning and a threat; But why should he care? He lost respect for that man a long time ago, and doesn’t give two shits what he thinks.

Unlike Bruce, he’s not afraid to avenge those he cares about most through whatever means necessary.

A piercing cry follows the crack of snapping bone. Another finger, broken. That leaves seven more, and I’ve got all fucking night.

“I won’t ask again,” comes a growl, “I want answers.”

The man’s panting is interrupted by a swift kick to the gut. He bends over with a groan, before he glares up at the Red Hood through one eye. The other is swollen shut.

“Why would I tell you? You’re just going to kill me anyway.”

Hood hums, cocking his gun. “True, but it’ll hurt wayyy less if you do.”

The man spits at his boots, a mixture of saliva and blood. “Good luck. I won’t talk.”

A malicious grin grows from underneath Hood’s mask.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t need it.”

The hallway is empty, save for him and Nightwing.

Really it’s just a perfect place for a one-on-one scolding—and his brother clearly decides to take advantage of it.

“You shouldn’t have done that. He will retaliate. This is Ra’s we’re talking about.”

Jason’s jaw clenches tight.

“Who knows how many supporters he’s managed to convince that Trigon can fix all of their worldly problems? He could call on all of them at any given moment.”

He bares his teeth.

“You’ve made a mess, Hood. It’s going to take months to clean up what you did.”

He can’t stand it anymore. “Are you shitting me? I did you all a fucking favor,” he points a finger in Richard’s chest. “I found out more information in an hour investigating my way than you all did in weeks. If you’re not happy with my methods then do a better goddamned job covering your teammates.” He nearly chokes on that last word, attention drifting to the unmoving woman in the room across from them.

Dick’s eyes follow and widen, then narrow just as fast, and he crosses his arms.

“You love her.”

He should have known Richard would figure it out. Why even try to fucking deny it anymore?

“Yeah,” he winces when his voice comes out raw. “I do.”

Dick raises a brow, unapologetic. “She’s not going to like what you did either.”

Jason doesn’t have the decency to look ashamed.

“I know.”

He wonders if she would have done the same.

“The antidote stopped any further damage, but she remains comatose. We’ve deduced that her body’s gone into a healing trance to mend herself internally. There’s nothing else we can do but wait and continue to monitor.”

He stares at her porcelain face, no longer resisting the urge to tuck a stray lock of indigo behind her ear. Even at rest her brows are furrowed—like she knows what’s coming.

He waits until he can no longer hear Zatanna’s echoing steps to draw closer to her, breathing in her familiar scent of incense and old books. It’s a welcome change from the sterile smell of antiseptic.

“You’re really taking your time huh, sunshine? How rude of you, leaving me with these assholes,” he fingers another strand of hair before releasing it with a sigh.

“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” He gives her a mock glare, half-expecting her to glower back. When she doesn’t he swallows, and takes another breath.

“There’s one more thing I need to do… and I know you’re going to hate it, but I’m going to do it anyway.” He imagines pools of lavender, ablaze with fire, and a mouth already poised to argue with a vehemence that makes him smile in the present.

“I won’t be able to come back here after I finish, and I’m sorry I won’t be there when you wake up,” he takes her hand and squeezes. “But I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do.”

The incessant beeping of the machines she’s hooked up to is his only response.

He lowers his face, and brushes his lips against the crown of her head.

“I love you.”

Walking away from her is hard, and he almost turns back.

But he doesn’t.

#jayrae #robrae #one shot prompts #it’s angsty like my soul #jason todd

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samstree · 3 years

Text

Press your hands upon my heart

Geralt x Jaskier, hurt/comfort, 2k, soft geralt, hurt jaskier, married husbands, established geraskier

cw: torture aftermath, hand injuries, descriptions of broken bones.

read on AO3

Geralt loved Jaskier’s hands.

They were one of the first things Geralt noticed about him.

Years ago, back in that stingy little tavern, the bard had gesticulated throughout their one-sided opening conversation, tapping on the table between them, waving and pointing with excitement. Jaskier had extended his arms in a full-body pose as he marveled at their first adventure.

From that day on, it was his nimble fingers that strummed the lute and played songs after songs, spreading the tales of the white wolf. Even hidden at the corner of a tavern, trying to not draw attention from the audience Jaskier was entertaining, Geralt could not help but always notice those hands on the instrument and how easily they produced those captivating notes. Not that he would admit it to Jaskier until many years later.

Jaskier’s hands were beautiful.

They were long and lean, untouched by heavy labor, the unblemished skin a stark contrast to Geralt’s labyrinth of scars.

They were soft to the touch. The only calluses were at the tip of his fingers, developed from years of plucking the strings. Their gentleness eased Geralt’s pain as Jaskier bandaged a wound or applied salve on Geralt’s scratches and bruises.

They were warm and welcoming when Jaskier caressed Geralt’s face before leaning in to kiss him. These hands soothed the tension between his brows; these hands carded through his hair as he was lulled into sleep surrounded by Jaskier’s familiar scent; these hands brought pleasure that left him moaning and begging, a whimpering mess under the eyes blue as the sky.

Geralt did not understand Jaskier’s love for wearing all those ridiculous rings. The colored stones were flashy and big, weighing down Jaskier’s slim fingers. Plus, they posed an extra obstacle if Geralt wished to hold Jaskier and simply feel the solid contact. The huge gemstones dug into his palm whenever he stroked Jaskier’s soft skin looking for reassurance.

“But my love, they are the latest trend at all the royal courts. A bard as esteemed as I needs to stay in fashion.”

Jaskier chuckled, amused at Geralt’s distaste for those jewelries, but continued to collect even bigger and flashier ones.

So one day, Geralt replaced them with a simple silver ring.

By the coast of Cidaris, on a beautiful cliff overlooking the sea, Geralt put the wedding band on Jaskier and called him husband for the very first time. He then placed a solemn kiss on top of it, the silver glint a most complimenting addition for those lovely fingers.

The war with Nilfgaard still raged, but their unlikely little family of a princess, sorceresses, and wolf witchers gathered for this moment.

In this little bubble of happiness, Geralt held Jaskier close and interlocked their fingers, a silent promise to never let go.

Jaskier’s hands were the first things Geralt saw when he slammed into that prison cell.

In front of his prone, motionless body on the stone floor, his hands were stretched out. The once unblemished skin was now speckled with dried blood. Dark bruises bloomed from his wrists, all the way up to the knuckles. Some of the fingers were swollen from what must be broken bones inside, but they still twitched slightly at the sound of Yennefer’s continued fighting in the hallway.

Where their wedding band should be, was now a flayed gash that has stopped dripping blood.

Geralt was almost knocked out of breath by the stench of pain, Jaskier’s pain. Gone was the familiar scent of sweet honeysuckle and contentment, now only despair rolled off of his husband in waves.

Gathering Jaskier in his arms, he checked for other injuries and found more: cracked ribs, a broken leg, and a gash near his hairline. It seemed his hands had received the most damage. Jaskier’s eyes stayed worryingly closed when Geralt desperately tried to rouse him. Tucking away the matted hair, Geralt winced at how hot his forehead felt.

They know he’s a bard. The back of Geralt’s mind screamed, they know he’s my bard.

They hurt what was the most precious to Jaskier, and Geralt seethed.

Geralt secured Jaskier’s hands in front of his torso, careful not to jostle the battered bones, and propped him up to lean against his chest. In the hallway, Yennefer cleared out the last of the soldiers and rushed in.

“Yen. His hands.” He pleaded.

Yennefer examined Jaskier’s hands with magic and the flow of chaos seemed to pain him even in unconsciousness. Jaskier whimpered and burrowed further in the crook of Geralt’s neck.

“It’s really bad, Geralt.” Yennefer’s expression was still calm but Geralt could see she was affected by the extent of it. “My chaos is almost depleted. I’m not sure how much I can do right now.”

“Do what you can. Please.”

“This is going to hurt,” Yennefer warned and started working her magic.

Geralt murmured into Jaskier’s ear as the pain built up, but it offered no comfort. With the crack of bones being reset, Jaskier woke screaming and writhing against Geralt’s chest, hitched breathing racking his body violently.

There was nothing Geralt could do but hold him tighter.

Four days held in that Nilfgaardian prison took more than forty for Jaskier to heal. Or at least on the outside.

The lacerated skin on his forearms and wrists turned into a canvas of newly formed scars, jarringly red and sensitive to the touch. The broken leg and ribs eventually regained strength after weeks of physical therapy and exercise.

As soon as they brought him back to Kaer Morhen, Yennefer knitted back the broken bones inside Jaskier’s hands, and continued to heal them with magic. Yet there was only so much she could do.

The damage to the soft tissues and ligaments was already festering when they rescued him. During the first few days, the searing pain would often flare up and keep him from any real sleep, leaving Jaskier delirious in his fevered state.

After those days, Geralt developed a habit of gently massaging the spasms out of Jaskier’s muscles. He would unfurl Jaskier’s constricting fists, kneading out the knots with the cream that the bard loved so much – honeysuckle and lavender. The warmth from Geralt’s larger hands soothed the aches, more or less depending on the day, so he made it a mission to reach for Jaskier whenever he had the chance.

Geralt wished he could erase all the hurt inflicted on his husband, but nature had to take its course.

After forty days recovering in Kaer Morhen, Jaskier was almost back to full health except for when the joints in his hands creaked and made him tremble in agony.

“Thank you, my love,” Jaskier said sleepily.

They lied face-to-face on their shared bed in the keep. Jaskier was already drifting off, his hands soft and pliant, wrapped in Geralt’s palms as if this could shield them from the hurt within.

“Anytime.”

He shouldn’t be thanking me. Geralt kissed a faded scar on a knuckle. I’m the one who couldn’t protect him.

Jaskier’s hands were still beautiful.

The backs of his hands were now marred with faded scars that itched when rubbed too hard. So Geralt made him gloves with soft silk to protect the delicate patch of skin. Jaskier had brightened with joy and gave him a massive smooch for being ‘the most thoughtful husband on the Continent’. The dark blue fabric now accompanied Jaskier everywhere.

His wrists moved with an unprecedented carefulness, all the dramatic gestures reigned in to avoid aggravating the long-lasting injuries. Though Jaskier never stopped talking with his hands, adding to his emotions when he got carried away. The movements, albeit subdued, were still the most beautiful dance in Geralt's eye.

Jaskier couldn’t wear his wedding band anymore.

With Yennefer’s help, Geralt found another ring to replace the one that was lost during Jaskier’s capture. At the time, Jaskier had put it on with a most contented grin, like something was returned to its home.

But the joints in his fingers too often ached in the cold wind of the Blue Mountains, sometimes even swelled up with inflammation. One day the bloating suddenly worsened, and they had to cut out the silver band before putting him on ice for the rest of the day.

Jaskier looked so defeated that night, fidgeting and stroking the empty base of his ring finger. When Geralt gathered him in an embrace, he retreated into himself even further.

“I don’t need a ring to know that you are mine.” Geralt tried.

“Thank you.” Jaskier’s breath shuddered. That seemed to be all he said these days. “But I just need something to be normal again.”

With that, Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck and let out a silent sob. His tears soaked through Geralt’s shirt as they both rocked slowly back and forth, a wordless companionship of shared powerlessness.

One thing about Jaskier’s hands never changed.

They still knew how to love Geralt.

With stolen touches and reassuring squeezes, Jaskier never ceased to convey the depth of his feelings despite his weakened movements.

He would still open his inviting arms for a hug and absent-mindedly stroke the nape of Geralt’s neck. He would still wash the grime out of Geralt’s hair with the soap he knew didn’t bother the witcher’s sensitive nose. He would card through those silver locks when they were both plagued by insomnia – a common occurrence now that Jaskier frequently screamed awake with nightmares – to calm his own racing heart while giving a silent apology for waking Geralt up.

These were still the same hands when they traced every line on Geralt’s body, mapping out all the plains and ridges of old scars. As Jaskier traveled across his body, Geralt shuddered with tears blurring his vision.

He never understood why Jaskier would worship his scars, why he memorized them by touch and kissed them with soft lips, as if they were the most precious things on earth, until now.

Now Geralt did the exact same thing to the scattered marks on Jaskier’s body in return, tracing the lines with everything he had. Now Geralt shared the sentiment that, maybe, he could erase the hurt retroactively with all the tenderness he poured into the contact.

“You are being sappy again.” Jaskier kissed away the tears on Geralt’s cheeks, his palm cupping the side of Geralt’s face.

“I just – I never knew I could love someone so much.”

Geralt had to look quite an embarrassing sight, tearing up in the middle of an intimate moment. But Jaskier only melted at his words, the blue of his eyes flowing with adoration.

“I love you too, you ridiculous man.”

Geralt woke to the strumming of lute.

It was the first time since Jaskier’s rescue that he picked up the instrument. The melody was slow and haunting, an old love song in Elder. Jaskier hummed along with his back to their bed.

Geralt sat up quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. He watched Jaskier take measured movements when handling the lute, gripping the handle just a little too tightly.

The old songs soon warmed him up for fervent composing. As if struck by sudden inspiration, Jaskier started singing new verses over and over again while scribbling in his notebook. Then he scratched something before trying a different line. From the short distance, Geralt smelled the familiar scent of excitement and realized how much he’d missed it.

The music and scratches of quill nearly lulled Geralt back to sleep, until a dissonant chord struck, followed by a pained gasp.

Jaskier was hunched over his lute, breathing through what must be another bout of cramps.

“Hey, Jaskier. Easy.”

With a few long strides, Geralt reached Jaskier and knelt in front of him. He pried away the lute and notebook and started massaging Jaskier’s trembling hands. Slowly opening the clenched fists, Geralt began the motion he knew by heart, kneading out the tension bit by bit.

Every time pressure was applied on the knots, Jaskier shook all over, pained, whimpering.

“You are doing so good, Jask,” Geralt cooed and apologized, easing his mind with murmured encouragement.

Finally, he pressed a chaste kiss to each knuckle, giving them equal attention, before cradling Jaskier’s now relaxed hands right above his heart to warm them up.

“Alright?”

Geralt looked up to Jaskier. The storm in his features had passed, leaving only a tired, timid smile. His glassy eyes were filled with softness only reserved for Geralt.

“We will be, love.”

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday26 #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #soft geralt #soft jaskier #hurt/comfort

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mercyxkilling · 3 years

Text

okay so. i have some things that i need to talk about, and they’re pretty, uh. they’re pretty rough. so they’re under the cut, okay?

so. i had to report two ladies i work with to HR today. i didn’t want to. i really didn’t. and i warned them on thursday that i didn’t want to hear them talk about politics and socio-political shit while i’m on the clock with them (or ever because ew), and they told me they respected me for telling them rather than doing what i usually do, which is, unfortunately, throw shit and leave the room and get all fucking huffy. i’m so nonconfrontational that i didn’t know how to approach them, but because they listen to b.en s.hapiro and his podcasts, they’re gonna parrot things i don’t believe in and cannot stand because, really, who could tolerate blatant hate speech? and they were constantly talking about it. i mean constantly. to the point that a fellow coworker said they were tired of it too and were willing to say something in my stead. but i chose to put on my big girl pants that day and confront them. and they said they understood, they appreciated what i did, and that they’d stop. cool, right?

well. yesterday... they were talking about the “transgender agenda.” and uh. i’m done. i’m done with all of that. many of my best, most cherished fucking friends are trans. and i’m part of the LGBTQ+ community, and i feel that we need to protect each other. if i don’t say something now, i’m not gonna be protecting anyone who might get hired on in the future that also identifies with that group.

and even before this, they were talking shit about BLM and that black and brown people needed to “just shut up,” that “we gave them enough rights already.” like WHAAAAAAT? at that time our supervisor was a bitchy right winger who probably wouldn’t have taken me seriously, or, would have implicated me in hopes of stoking some fires that shouldn’t be fucking burning to begin with. and it also... was such blatant bigotry that i had no idea how to really open up a dialogue about it because it was so fucked up.

i have been so stressed out because going to work is such an awful experience that i don’t know how to handle it. like. it’s affecting me mentally, emotionally, spiritually, fucking even physically. i’ve had so many flares in pain and inflammation because it affects me that much. my joints swell, my pain flares, i’ve had panic attacks... and when the work load gets super hefty it’s only that much worse. i have deadlines and actual fucking work to worry about, and add to that the anxiety of “what hateful thing am i going to hear today?” it just makes for a mixture that really fucks with me. not to mention i have debt collectors calling me all fucking day i just. i can’t deal with it.

i’ve been put on multiple medications already, and my doctor has added antidepressants to the mix because i’m so affected by this. that’s pretty fucked.

and like... these ladies... have been really nice to me. they’ve always checked in on me when i’m sick, have paid for my lunch multiple times, have bought me snacks, have encouraged me in my artistic skills and have told me that i am meant for greater things than what i’ve settled for, have invited me to their fucking homes... but they don’t respect me enough to keep this hateful shit to themselves. i have to remember that last part.

but after i reported them, they both wouldn’t stop asking me where i was, what i was doing, or what had happened. “is everything okay? where did you go? did you take a longer lunch? was it bathroom issues?” trying to get me to admit to something because they were afraid for their job securities, maybe? or because, i don’t know, guilty conscience possibly? but i panicked and said i was talking to someone. then the other lady stood in front of my desk and asked me if everything was all right and what happened. then they asked who i was talking to, what i was talking about, and if i was worried about my job. then they asked, after i was sure my job was safe, if i had any problems with any particular people in that room. the room with only me, two other girls, and them. i don’t necessarily have a problem with them. just with what bullshit is coming out of their mouths. so i said no. then i was asked if i had problem with my supervisor, so i said “sometimes.” and she said, “that’s what i thought it was.” and she sat back down, whispered to the other lady, and that was that.

so. they were only concerned when they thought i went to HR. and if they address this issue immediately, they’re gonna know i said something. i’m the only one visibly affected by this shit. i’m the one who said something. i’m the one who blew the whistle. and i didn’t want to. but i gave them a warning. i asked them to stop. if this is approached in any other way than “don’t listen to podcasts while at work,” then i’m fucked. they’ll know.

but i know i did the right thing. right? i’m so fucking anxious right now. i don’t want to go to work tomorrow. i’m terrified. i know that i’ll pay for this somehow. and i also know that, yeah, i can go to HR again if they do say anything, but i don’t want it to come to that. i don’t want this to be a fucking thing. i’m scared.

but this is bigger than me. this affects more people than myself, whether they’re employed at the same company or not. bigotry is bigotry. hate is hate. i warned them. i feel bad regardless of what i do, and i worry so much for what might happen. but... i did the right thing. right? right.

just... yikes. i can’t... stand this anxiety. i need to tell my doctor about this because i don’t want more antidepressants. i need help handling work stress. i need a supervisor that will handle this delicately. i need some support, y’know? i dug my heels in and stood up for what i believed in. i just hope that means something to someone and that no matter what happens i’ll have someone to back me up.

i’m sorry to all of my friends that this may have affected and for not standing up sooner. i’m a fucking coward, if my fear right now doesn’t tell you as much. but today i just. couldn’t take it anymore.

s;alskdjfa sorry. i just needed a place to rant. thanks for sticking through it if you read all that. it’s hard to stomach, i know.

#tw negativity #tw work drama #tw gender issues #tw racism #i don't know what else to tag this as #ask to tag #please #i don't want to hurt anyone because of what others have said #i just #needed to get this off my chest because #HOO BOY #i've been hanging on to this for a while

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lalistilltrying · 3 years

Text

So, I have fibromyalgia.

And I'm tired, yes. But I'm also tired of people with fibromyalgia. Because it sucks, yes. But it seems to me that they have been convinced that it doesn't get better. That is going to be like this the rest of their life.

I'm working on a real thin line here. No, it's not your fault, and no, I know that most of the time you're so flare up that you can't do anything. I understand. I'm like that too.

BUT, it DOES GET BETTER IF YOU PUT THE EFFORT. I swear, don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Don't let yourself convince you otherwise.

My story is like everyone else's : issues with competitive behavior from age 7, psychologist for a year. Tape A personality. Stomach problems anxiety related age 13. Bit of a breakdown age 15. But not Generalize Anxiety Disorder, not yet. Pain at 16, but still a happy go lucky girl. Tried college, first failed exam. First metal breakdown. Go back to my parents house. Diagnosed (correctly) age 18. Medicated correctly age 19. Psychologist and psychiatrist. Anxiety, depression, chronic fatigue. And this is what I learnt, age 21:

*It IS better to get medicated by a psychiatrist than a rheumatologist. There was not an ounce of inflammation in my body in my case.

*Codeine, Tylenol, Weed. Not really helpful, do more damage than good for me.

*What's helpful immediately? HOT. A hot bag, a hot bath. Maybe it doesn't get the pain away but (and I'm going to give quite a bad advice here) the "pain" of the hotness is brand new and kind of makes you forget the other ones.

*Mental Health Support. I'm lucky that nothing triggered my fibro. My family and people that I surround myself with were selected very carefully to be understanding and empathetic, I did this without realizing from a young age, because I was (am) demanding. Now it's a conscious effort.

-What happened was: Tape A personality. Difficulty to accept failure. Anxiety. Fibro. Depression. In that order. SO, I had to figuring it out backwards. Treat the immediate pain first. Depression next. Then look at yourself and realize when the flare ups really happen, then anxiety. I'm there now. I'm figuring that last one out. I still feel an incredibly amount of pain and exhaustion, and have fits of extreme anxiety like twice a week. But you have to be resilience and fight the core of all of it.

*Doctors don't know that much. Your gut feeling in this specific case can be more helpful, but do not go overboard. Don't go Worst Case Scenario. Find a good doctor for God's sake. There's always one. And work WITH him, don't let him do everything for you, and don't try to dictaminate everything yourself. Both of those are dangerous.

*Understanding yourself doesn't mean you're cured. There IS an unbalance in your brain chemistry, and that's why the meds are important. But it's a teamwork of meds + therapy + daily behavior. One falls off, and everything crumbles.

*GOOD NIGHT SLEEP. Blackout curtains, white noise, chilly atmosphere, big duvet and a bag of hot water. The goal is to go to bed early, the MEANS are to wake up early. That way, you won't feel guilty and anxious if you don't go to sleep early that day, because you WILL make it up and wake up at the exact same time as always. It's difficult if not impossible for some to do it yourself, so ask ANYBODY to help you. Maybe from months on end. But eventually your body will get used to it.

*HAPPINESS. And you are rolling your eyes right now. But listen. I know how depression for months feel like. I know how hard it is to crawl out of bed to take a piss, let alone stand for 15 minute to have a whole shower. But listen to me. YOU. ARE. ALIVE. You are NOT going to DIE FROM THIS. Nothing is happening to your physical body that can't be fixed. It's your brain. It is harder? Yes, so much more. But take my word please. If you are stubborn, if you fight everytime you can, you will eventually win.

*What you mean fight? Well, this is a long one. Bare with me: Fight does not means control. Does not means going against your body. It's understanding. It's balance, push a little bit but not too much. It's being happy for a little tiny bit. In so much pain, and darkness and sorrow. You HAVE to find this little bubbles of happiness. And it's fucking hard, because what can you do? You can't play an instrument, you can't go out with friends, you can't play videogames, or cook. You don't enjoy reading enymore, you don't enjoy movies anymore. So what? Well, let me give you this stupid premise:

AND THIS. TOO. SHALL PASS AWAY.

Pain will be a little bit tolerable, and the next day absolutely devastating. But it will pass, both those occasions. Find the good feeling of feeling better. Rejoice in it. Embrace it. And then let it go. Because it will be temporarily. Then recibe the pain, embrace it, and bare with it. Listen to what it has to say. And when you're body is ready, and you are ready, it will go too.

This is not a simple process. It could take minutes, days, moths, years. But it will eventually change. Even if it comebacks, make sure that you have change a little bit in the process, so you are not the same person anymore. Suddenly you will notice that this things will pass more quickly. That letting it go will be easier.

Let go of expectations, but not hope. Let go of drinking alcohol, let go of eating everything you want. Let go of that dream job, that meeting with your friends, your independence, your mental health. Let it go somewhere. And maybe, sometime, when you are ready, they'll come back to you. But only if you expect them standing up, strong and with open arms.

*So stop THINKING ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME, acknowledge that is there, but also think of something else. If you are smart enough, you will eventually find your bubble. Sing. Pet a puppy. Swim. Have a good laugh with someone. There are still bubbles to find. This is a part of you, a big one, but it not all there is.

*Play it an octave lower. Don't let it escalate. It hurts, yes. But at least it was better than last time. Don't lie to yourself, you won't belive it. But try to make an effort and not think the worst of it all the time, it will make you angry. And Sad. Write about it, talk about it, but tone it down. Explode every once in a while, absolutely. But let the blow fade away.

-I got it bad. I got it early. I got every symptom. I got into every diet. Every therapy. Withdraw. Headache. Feeling like I wanted to chop my legs off. But I'm alright. Because I learnt to almost, almost, enjoy the pain. The bad times. I learn to respect them. I learnt not to be so hard on myself. I found my bubbles of pure joy and happiness amidst all of this.

I don't know if it is because is my willing to live that got me here, but I don't care. I am here. I matter. And let me tell you something. One day, I realized It went away. All of it. Very low pain, very low tiredness. I was almost a normal human being for MONTHS. And then it passed. I got it all again.

But I am not the same person. I'm not a scared 16 years old. I learnt to enjoy things while being anxious. I swear is possible. I am happy, I am a happy go lucky girl again, just with more nuance underneath. Please, the only thing that this god damn desease can't take from you, it's hope. That's the only thing that you can cling to. Carry it with you. And be happy, because you are alive.

#fibromyalgia #chronic pain #fibro fog #fibrosucks #Fibro #fibroawareness #anxeity #physical fatigue

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songofsaraneth · 3 years

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Ok now that I have time/space to breathe again, I wanted to do a writeup on the unusual reaction I had to the second Covid vaccine dose. I debated posting this, because I don't want to go against the "I was vaccinated and it's fine!" encouragement train. And I 1000% encourage EVERYONE to get vaccinated if possible. But I have not seen much documentation of the averse symptom I got, except in some case studies I specifically looked up so details below. Big TMI/gross warning however.

Mostly I'm posting this because I had to do SO much self-advocating/arguing with the Dr at my urgent care clinic, and if you're not as read up on weird medical issues as I am, you might not be comfortable doing that. But IANAD, just describing my experience and what I read, which ended up being very long because it was awful and I have a lot to complain about I guess, sorry.

Basically: for me the vaccine triggered an inflammation response, which in itself is normal. The usual muscle aches/joint pain/slight fever. It also triggered an outbreak of ulcers in my soft tissues. Basically, a bunch of canker sores in my mouth/throat. I am already prone to getting these when I get sick or stressed out, so no biggie, annoying and painful but I could handle them. Canker sores are distinct from cold sores in that they form inside the mouth as crater spots, usually around the size of a pencil eraser (though can be bigger or smaller), and will develop a white film across the crater as they develop and start to heal.

An unfortunate fact I have learned: the mouth is not the only exposed “soft tissue” of the body. this group also includes genitals.

So 2 days after the vaccine I noticed a "burning sensation"/rawness downstairs, which turned into a sharp pain, especially when going to the bathroom. I obviously knew this was abnormal and because of what was happening in my mouth, had a pretty firm idea of what was happening, but was ready to brace myself through the healing process. However by day 5 I had 8 red, crater-like sores on the tissue of my vulva. Essentially they are open wounds, and urine is an acid, so you can imagine the hell that using the bathroom had become. Even just sitting hurt.

As someone healthcare-averse, even I knew this was untenable, and went to Urgent Care for the first time in my adult life. I told the NP what was going on, how they matched the canker sores (NOT cold sores) in my mouth in onset/form--and she immediately, without even looking, diagnosed me with herpes.

Lots of people have herpes or other STIs, and that's fine. I know I do not have any, and wanted to pursue treatment for what I was sure they were--Non-sexually acquired genital ulceration (NSGU). I had even found three case studies of COVID patients who had developed them. I had spent several harrowing hours on google images making sure that the sores I had did not match any STI I may have magically acquired during a year of social distancing. I even brought up multiple case studies, including a woman who had them as a Covid reaction in a neighboring state. Didn’t matter. She looked at them and went “Yikes! Herpes!” and prescribed me:

1) an antiviral, which I said I did not think would do anything because the trigger for this was a vaccine not an illness. She said it was probably a herpes flare up already in my system. I reiterated that I have had similar sores in my mouth since childhood and that all my past doctors and dentists agreed it was not viral but something related to an immune response. She said the antivirals should clear them up in a few days.

2) a topical 5% lidocaine ointment, aka an oral grade numbing gel, which was essentially what I was after anyway.

I would have preferred a steroid course to the antiviral, but agreed to start taking them until she got the results of the bloodwork I needed to come in the next day for. I asked how many days after taking them I would expect to see a difference/if she would reevaluate treatment if they didn’t have an effect in a certain amount of time, and she said if they hadn’t cleared up by Monday then she’d look into other causes (spoiler, they did nothing in that 4 day span). to her credit, when she saw me pick up my bike helmet (because my car had been at the mechanic for a month by then), she was properly horrified that i was having to bike everywhere with this situation and printed off some coupons/called all the prescriptions into the grocery store pharmacy next door instead of the CVS my insurance likes a mile away.

So eventually I got home and took my pill & went to put on the ointment so I could use the bathroom for the first time in 8 hours. I’ll spare you the details but suffice to say I had an extremely, overwhelmingly painful 10 minutes of application. Like absolutely awful burning feeling. However once that faded, I was indeed actually numb, and so I figured it was worth it. Got my bloodwork done on Friday (biking there & home again). On Saturday, I thought that you know, maybe a prescription anesthetic shouldn’t be doing that or at least have some sort of warning? And read the details on the jar.

Good things about lidocaine: it is a powerful numbing agent and lasts pretty well for an hour or two.

Bad things about lidocaine: you cannot get oral grade lidocaine without added mint flavoring.

I happen to be EXTREMELY sensitive to mint. Like I still can’t handle breath mints or mouthwash, and used bubblegum flavored toothpaste until I was 14 and found a brand with half as much mint flavoring as is typical. Even if you’re not, mint has no business being anywhere near genital tissue. Even on an average person that could cause awful burning. to make a long saga shorter I had a very frustrating back-and-forth with urgent care involving many rerouted phone trees, visit in person, unhelpful receptionists, and attempts to find over-the-counter alternatives. All were fruitless so I just suffered all weekend until the urgent care Nurse Practitioner called me back on Monday and was suitably apologetic/outraged about the mint thing, and looked up every OTC product that might work as a substitute, since she couldn’t find any prescription level without mint. On Tuesday she called back again having found this:

It’s 4%, so just below prescription strength, while not oral grade, it’s actually fine for soft tissues as long as not fully ingested/internally applied. And most importantly, ABSOLUTELY NO ADDED FLAVORINGS. there is also a spray version that comes in a bottle, which under no circumstances should you try because it uses alcohol as a propellant and I had a very bad 5 minutes after testing that one. But the cream one is fine and brings blessed numbness in around 5 minutes with only minimal contact pain--they are still open wounds after all.

I use this for the next 7 days. By this point the sores have gotten worse and larger, and then started to heal and shrink again. Mouth canker sores go through a similar ~2 week process, so this is about what I expected.

Finally the results of my bloodwork came back, and I was negative for all STIs. The NP was dumbfounded and apologized, and agreed to look up more information/treatment options for cases like this in the future. I’m not surprised her reaction was to assume herpes as it IS very common, but I’m sure other women experience NSGU’s and receive improper treatment. If you look them up, they’re even mentioned as being predominantly a problem for “young or prepubescent women” which, reading between the lines--it’s not that these become less likely if you’re older or sexually active. Doctors just make assumptions and don’t always look past the easy answers.

So if you or someone you know ends up with these--from the Covid vaccine or as a complication of upper respiratory infections in general (as they ARE an immune response and can just Happen to you)--here is what works as treatment. If you can see a doctor you trust, still do that. But if they don’t listen or if for some reason you can’t seek treatment, here is the course of action I recommend:

Pick up that over-the-counter Pain Relief+Lidocaine NON MINTY numbing cream ASAP. Sores go from “annoying” to “excruciating” in only 3 days, so it’s best to get in person or with rush shipping. Sit in front of a mirror and gently apply with a q-tip, and wait 5 minutes for the medicine to take effect.

Pat gently dry with toilet paper, don’t make wiping motions. If you don’t feel clean enough, pat more with a wet washcloth and rinse it out, or hope in the shoer for 5 min just to rinse.

There may be pus or reside from the ointment that doesn’t go away with just rinsing. Every 2 days I made a half-strength bath of epsom salts, NUMBED FULLY, and then took a 10 minute bath to fully cleanse the area. the salt will sting terribly if you wait any longer, so I recommend standing and rinsing after this time.

The vulva is more exposed to air than the mouth. this may cause the sores to crack/bleed as they dry out. to avoid this, after using the restroom and cleaning yourself, you can apply a thick coating of Aquaphor on top of the sores. It will need to be rinsed off before you apply more numbing cream however, so if that is too many steps I recommend just using the Aquaphor overnight.

You may think its ok to get up in the middle of the night to pee without the numbing cream bc you have to go really bad and just once will be fine but it is NOT you will REGRET IT.

Unfortunately if you have sores on both sides you may develop what is known as “kissing sores”, aka sores directly opposite each other that touch when the area is not spread open. this means that after an extended period of time (overnight), the sores will try to heal into each other and opening the area back up painfully rips the tissue apart. INStEAD of ripping them apart, take a washclosh, run it under warm water, and do a hot/warm compress on the area. this will loosen the sores back up and separate them painlessly.

This is not exclusive to people with a vulva, they can also happen on scrotal/anal tissue. However it does seem to much more frequently affect people with typical XX sex organs.

If you develop these, PLEASE fill out an averse reaction form or your country’s equivalent. Also, I’m so sorry and if you need emotional support or have questions please feel free to get in touch.

Most likely, these will not happen to you--the vast majority of vaccinated people have not had this as a side effect. But it IS popping up more and more, and it is good to know about it in advance so you can be prepared to deal with and treat it without as much anxiety and all the hoops I had to jump through to get good care. Overall I’m still glad to be vaccinated, but if I had known this was a side effect, as someone already prone to canker sores I would have waited to vaccinate until my car was fixed a week later a the very least :|

#covid #covid vaccine #averse vaccine reaction #nsgu #ive got my finger on the block button for whatever pornbots this post activates do not try me #anyway #gross warning sorry :( if u dont want to know about my tmi personal health dont read this one #ramblings #wharglbargle #i dont wish these on anyone i cant describe what an awful experience this all was #tried to be more humerous bout it in the post but i cried p much nonstop at urgent care and many of the days after #long post #plagueblogging #still better than getting covid and dying tho so

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newhologram · 2 years

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This felt like the longest month of my life. It started with my pain doctor “breaking up” with me. I spent so much time laid out from pain, caught in the tide of a flare up that just won’t quit. But I also spent most of my time researching. And now not only do I have a new doctor, I have the controversial yet life-changing medication I couldn’t afford before (plus a fancy new red light panel to boost healing even more).

Today will be my 2nd dose of at-home ketamine. The difference in my how my brain works is always instant, and the change in my inflammation, immune system, nervous system, pain, is something I can really feel shifting.

I’m still babying myself as I step onto this new healing path. Not throwing myself into too much work at once. Lots of rest and very long baths. Thank you to everyone out there supporting my healing and just being there for me. I don’t know what the rest of this year will be but I’m excited to see.

#spoonie #chronic illness #chronic pain #ketamine therapy #disability #seruka

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horansqueen · 2 years

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Edit: Sorry for the long post….

Hey sweet girl! Ya know something I think of often, fantasize about really, is how Niall might take care of me…..I have Lupus. And some days are very hard, painful overwhelming days, others are just precious to me and I want to just go celebrate feeling good. I think of how he would go to every doc appt, ask more questions than most, research everything from how to prevent flare ups, pain management techniques, diet and foods that help with the inflammation, tests and medical breakthroughs. I think of him being so in time with me that he can tell when a flare up is coming on, when he holds me and looks closely at the expressions in my face to be able to say, “aww, babe, you’ve got a flare up coming on, I can see it - how are you feeling, can I fix you your usual, warm bath, hot Earl Grey, or is it one of those where you need ice packs and some super cold cranberry juice?” How he’d run his hands down my cheeks with his bottom lip pouted out saying, “it just kills me to see you have to go through this” and his words of encouragement - telling me how proud he is that I try so hard to keep a brave face. I think he’d love knowing that research shows how the hormones that are released during sex ease pain and that the connection from that kind of intimacy is incredibly healthy for not only the spirit, but the physical body. I think he’d even initiate sex during a flare up just to soothe, that he’d work do hard to bring great big healthy orgasms to release the oxytocin. I’d love to hear him say, “baby let me take you to bed and make you feel good” or “I need to make you cum…honey let me get inside you to make it better”. How worried he’d be that he’d be too rough or get carried away, but how I’d reassure him that I needed him to give me that intense connection , how badly I need to have a chance to just let go, explore EVERYTHING, all sides of him, beg him to do his very worst to just wear me out… the constant checking to see if I’m comfortable or if it feels good, the filthy talk, the graphic, dirty praise while demanding me to look at him when I answer so he can see how I’m genuinely doing, watching with satisfaction as the disease that sometimes torments me fades away when we make love, when we fuck. And then afterward, oh how important aftercare would be. I know it’s a crazy fantasy, but it’s my fantasy and it helps me get through the reality. And I have a zillion that run through my mind as I battle this stupid fickle disease. Now I’m gonna be brave and push the “ask” button and share this….yikes!! 😳. But I think if anyone could appreciate these thoughts it would be you and your followers…much love! 😘

this is such a beautiful way to think, and im 100% sure thats how Niall would be, i really see him as someone caring and loving like that|!!! 🥺

#goldenmelonsugar hi

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