#I even want injections like I used to have a big needle phobia but now it's like one of my biggest fetishes 😵‍💫

[v3na-am0r1s]

not my porn blog making me go "maybe I *do* want hrt" +

[kalamity-jayne]

heya! baby-ish tgirl here. i've been on E since dec now (current regimen 6mg E sublingual/100mg spiro per day). anyway i have a nasty needle phobia but i also really kinda want to switch to injections and i think i might be stubborn enough to overcome it. what do you think? worth doing?

Well, I'm not an endocrinologist, and this is very much a conversation you should be having with one. With that caveat out of the way though I'd say it depends. First of all, if you're Estrogen levels and testosterone levels are in the ideal ranges and you're feeling good about the results you’ve been seeing thus far, I would say there's no real reason to make that change. If you’re levels are good and your mostly satisfied but just want to get a lil extra juice out of your regimen, you may want to consider just adding in Progesterone.

Many trans women swear by injectable but obviously there's nuances here. The old axiom "your mileage may vary" absolutely applies. The big advantage you have with injectable estrogen is that you bypass the stomach and the liver and thus you don't have to worry as much about how much estrogen is actually available for your body to use or your body's receptors' ability to bind to the estrogen. When I first started I took oral estrogen, but it was really challenging to get my T and E levels in the correct ranges (for context I had incredibly high levels of testosterone before HRT, even by cis male standards). After trying a few different dosages of Estradiol and Spiro (and eventually progesterone as well) and still not getting the levels right, I made the switch to injectable. Once I made the switch it felt like I was cooking with gas. So I very well may have been one of those people who wasn't effectively binding to the estrogen taken orally.

The main disadvantage to injectable estrogen is really just the needles if you’re someone who feels nervous about that. Now with injectable there’s two formats, intramuscular and subcutaneous. Both are equally effective, the only big difference between the two is that intramuscular comes with a slight risk of scarring. Both are pretty easy, and you’ll get the hang of it fairly quickly. As far as avoiding pain and scarification my main advice is: 1. don’t do your injections when you are tired, in a rush, inebriated, or under any other condition that might cause your hand to be less than steady and 2. Be swift with the needle.

Another big difference, that is neither better or worse just different, is that your hormone levels will fluctuate differently. When you take hormones orally, you get your initial E spike and it tapers off over the course of the day, which is why you generally take two doses per day. With injectable you get your initial estrogen spike after injecting, and it slowly tapers off over the course of the week until your next does (this is why it's recommended you get your bloodwork done halfway between doses). So if/when you make the switch, you may experience some mild mood swings (not everyone does though, I only experienced noticeable mode swings during the first 3 months of progesterone) and you may experience a few other signs of hormonal fluctuation such as mild non-inflammatory acne on the sides of your nose (if you experience this talk to your end, you may need the dosage adjusted and definitely re-evaluate your skin-care routine as you may need to start treating the nose with salicylic acid).

Now there are a few other delivery methods to consider, such as the Patch and the Pellet, but I don't know as much about them so I'm not as comfortable speaking on them.

I hope that info is helpful baby-girl! But definitely take all of that with a grain of salt and go talk to an actual endocrinologist!

Love,

🌷Mother Calamity🌷

[leefi]

liveblogging my food poisoning. chewed two pesto bismol and threw up 5 minutes later. chewed another two just now and need to stay upright long enough for them to stay down so just gonna type out stream of consciousness. hoping we’re done with this tomfoolery. this feels like a pretty mild case in that I’m not hunched over the toilet constantly and still have enough energy to move back and forth to my bed/my body’s giving me ample warning. It’s been a l on g while since ive last thrown up, and while the actual throwing up/nausea doesn’t scare me (though it SUCKS), the thought of not being able to breathe did. It’s pretty fucking bad but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. And like i said this has been a pretty mild case (that I’m praying doesn’t ramp up because my flight is tomorrow evening) . I’ve kind of learned to be grateful for experiences like this? When I don’t experience the worst of something right away. Ie when I was getting over my needle phobia last year it was dental injections, which I was most used to, to piercings, which I wanted (and kind of had a reward mechanism attached to them), to shots, which were necessary, to the big scary which was the blood draw. I’m dealing with this for the first time in years alone which sucks, but it’s pretty mild so far, I’m in a big comfortable hotel room, and I have DoorDash available to me. tldr it could be way worse + I got a primer for worse/scarier experiences in the future and I’m so grateful for that

[snakegirllovehandles]

content notice: needles, injection talk under the cut

You'd think that being on the (estrogen) needle since july I'd have gotten over my mild-ish needle phobia, but I just haven't.

My average is about 20-50 minutes from "ready to inject" (prep takes about 10 minutes for some reason), but to be truly harsh to myself I've been putting this off since morning, and I've only just now done it in the afternoon. Which isn't a habit I want to get into but it seems to be what's happening anyways. I hate this slide, it always happens to me with planned stuff. Fuckin' ADHD.

Today I managed 36 minutes from start (washing hands) to finish (bandage on). This is pretty good, but it's not quite under my self-assigned par time of half an hour. Last week was much worse, 65 minutes. The three weeks before were all about half an hour. Before that I had a few that were an hour each. And so on and so forth. I think my worst time is 2 hours? Not really important, I consider anything less than an hour to be a good week, even though I always aim for half of one.

And yet, I chose this. I choose this. I want this. I know what it's like to have to take multiple pills in a day, and I definitely don't want to mess with patches because frankly I don't want to complicate my already inadequate personal hygiene even more. I chose injection not just because there are better results reported, not just because straight E injection has cratered my T without an antiandrogen, but also because... I have ADHD. Medication compliance is so fuckin' hard for me. Every day, depending on if it's the weekend or not, I have three to five pills to take, and I just don't want to give my ADHD the ability to interfere with my HRT like that on a daily fuckin' basis. Even if it takes me an hour every friday to do self injection, it's still less time and anguish than I'll waste on taking or not taking or stressing over taking or not taking HRT pills thrice a girldamn day. Hell every week I think "god actually self injection is fuckin' easy, I wish it was time to do it right the hell now again because I'm rarin' to go!" and then I get to friday morning and I'm putting it off again, I get to friday afternoon and I'm putting it off again, I get to friday afternoon with the needle uncapped and I'm just... stuck, until I get over it, and get the needle in.

The most annoying thing is that it's not even that painful most of the time. Hell, some of my best didn't feel like anything worse than being slowly poked with a blunt pencil. Haven't had a truly painless one in a few months, unfortunately, but it's almost never bad. It's not the pain, really. It hasn't been since about september, when I really boned up and figured out what I was doing wrong (going too high or too low, mostly). The problem is that it's a fairly big needle and it goes into me and I can't look away because I'm doing it and I don't have anyone to do it for me and I wouldn't want someone else to do it for me because I have to be able to do this myself. An inch and a half is pretty scary if you think about it! it's about as long as from the tip of your forefinger down to the middle knuckle. All of that goes in and for some reason that's the part that makes me pause. I've considered switching to subcutaneous but honestly I don't think it would help. It's the "needle goes in" part that's the sticking point, I think. I usually have to look away while getting injections or my blood drawn.

Anyways it's frustrating that I'm not over this yet. I feel like I've probably gotten better because it used to be an hour every time and now most of the time it's not, but I wish it was as easy as a lot of other girls find it.

[moseleyjules]

It's fair to say my head has been all over the place recently. I noticed yesterday the calendar by my desk still said October! Life's felt not so much like a rollercoaster but a car crash.

Objectively, nothing terrible has happened. A combination of a big change in my professional life combined with some bad health has just made November feel unnervingly disruptive to my otherwise rather sedate life.

At the beginning of the month I went on a trip. My oldest friend turned 40 (yes, I'm not far behind - argh!) and we went to Athens to celebrate, a group of six of us. It was a really lovely trip, lots to see and we all got on well.

Back home, at work I was finding it tough. It was never going to be completely smooth sailing diving into a new job when I'd been at my previous company for fourteen years and I was prepared for some ups and downs. But eight months in and there had been more downs than ups and I was frustrated in my attempts to make changes. I didn't fit in with the team on a personal level but my relationship with my manager seemed to be deteriorating, to the point I felt undermined and started to feel insecure about my own abilities. As much as I hated giving up on the projects I'd had in mind and on supporting the people I managed, in the end it came down to protecting my own mental health.

It was only ever a fixed term contract so on paper I had no obligation to stay long term but it was a good company and I did think about moving internally. But as it turned out, after shooting off an application for something that had caught my eye on LinkedIn, I ended up being interviewed for and offered a position at another firm. The role sounds good, the company has a great reputation, the benefits are great and my commute will be halved; so on paper, it's a no brainer.

Emotionally though, it's more complicated. I suppose you put so much of your time into your work that it's hard not to feel invested in it. Both in learning (in some cases, quite technical) processes and building relationships, it's taken time and effort and it's hard not to feel that's not been a waste now I'm walking away.

Then there was the inner crisis I felt over making a decision and informing my manager of my resignation. There are some ways in which I'm still embarrassingly emotionally immature and wanting everyone to think well of me all the time is definitely a flaw. I need to toughen up!

It didn't help that I was five or six weeks after my last B12 injection and was really noticing the neurological effects. I could write a list as long as my arm of all the symptoms of B12 deficiency and different ones affect me each time as my 'stores' of B12 begin to run low before each eight-weekly injection. Sometimes I start to slur my words, sometimes I have nerve issues or start to choke on drinks and I often get fatigue that makes getting out of bed excruciatingly difficult even after several hours' sleep. This time the brain fog aspect hit me hard.

At work, I was having some difficulty learning a technical process, which faced with colleagues who are rather unsympathetic towards mistakes was leaving me feeling almost distraught with feelings of inadequacy. I was mentally exhausted and felt like I was running on fumes.

With my head in this state, it made the decision to leave even more fraught. But once made, I began to look around at my situation and see things had fallen into place.

There's of course some apprehension over starting again but I now feel lucky and excited I'll be in a new role in the new year, just as I begin a new decade of my life as well.

As for my B12 deficiency, it's not possible on the NHS to get more frequent jabs (I'm lucky, often people only get it every 12 weeks). Some people source their own supplies but having long battled with a needle phobia, I've procrastinated over looking into it. Hopefully I can spur myself to do this and really have a fresh start in 2023.

[ficsforeren]

I have an extreme phobia of needles. Could I request a drabble of Eren coming with reader when she’s getting vaccinated?

DUDE, ME TOO!!! okay this is probably going to be a mess but imagine this:

You've been postponing your visit to the hospital because every time you even think about going there to get vaccinated, you feel like you're seconds away from throwing up. Eren had gotten his second dose weeks ago and he'll be like, "Babe, why haven't you taken your shot yet?" and you're too embarrassed to admit it because you think he'd laugh at you ('cause let's face it, he laughs at you a lot. If you trip over your feet during your date or knock your head against a glassy door or something, he'll spend a good minute laughing about it first before he bends down to help you), so you never told him that you have trypanophobia. He keeps asking questions, however, so you eventually tell him about it while threatening him that, "If you laugh at me, I'm going to pour coffee all over your MacBook," even though you know it wouldn't stop him from laughing anyway.

But Eren, to your surprise, doesn't laugh. He takes a hold of your hand, squeezes it, and tries to talk to you about it. He wants to know why you're afraid, whether something traumatic happened in the past, and he listens so intently (him, with his very limited attention span, actually listens to you), and he tries to convince you (but like in a very gentle way, not forcing you or anything) to still take your shot because you know it's better to be safe than sorry. Eventually, you agree and he books an appointment with a doctor for you.

Eren does everything for you during your visit to the hospital, from filling out your form, getting you some coffee/tea as you wait, and even offers you some chocolate candy bars he bought from the vending machine.

"These will help you relax," Eren says with a grin.

"Those are gonna get me fat."

He's already eating two of them by now, shrugging. "Guess we just gotta have sex more often to burn the calories away."

"Oh my God, go away."

When your name gets called, you turn pale and Eren steps up, talking to the nurse on your behalf. He casts this dazzling smile of his toward her as he says, "Hi, that is my little sister and she's pretty nervous about taking her shot. And I know you don't allow anyone else to enter the room, but can you make an exception for us? Please?"

It's so considerate of him to mention you as his little sister instead of his girlfriend, cause he knew it would just embarrass you even further that way. The nurse seems like she wants to agree at first but, of course, she has no authority to allow it. With a pout, Eren goes back to where you're sitting in the waiting room, going down to one knee in front of you. He lands a hand on your head, "So... They won't allow me to go inside, but you'll be fine, okay?" He throws you a reassuring smile. "You're a big girl, you can do this without me. I believe in you."

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child."

"Well you kinda look like one," he chuckles. "The fact that you look so adorable, that is."

The nurse calls your name again and you stand up with a sigh. He ruffles your hair once before he tucks his hands inside the pockets of his ripped jeans, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. "If you get too scared, think about how I'm going to reward you after this."

"Reward me?"

Eren's smile morphs into a naughty smirk. He bites his lower lip seductively, sizing you up and down and you get the idea. With your cheeks feeling like they're catching on fire, you scurry off to the room.

As one of the nurses adjusts your sleeve, showing the skin of your upper arm, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You check on it with one hand, swiping your thumb across the screen. Eren is sending you messages with unnecessary emojis, something like you can do this, babe 💪 or remember 🛏 👅💦which made you roll your eyes, but he's also sending you funny (or cursed) memes, short videos of puppies/kitten playing together or just random things to take your mind off the injection. Before you know it, the procedure is done and you can walk away with the biggest smile on your face.

"How was it?" Eren asks the second you step out of the room.

"Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," you proudly remark.

"That's my girl." He smacks a kiss on the top of your head, pulling you into a teddy bear hug. "I'm so proud of you, baby." You return his embrace and when you break away, he slings one arm around your shoulders. You walk side-by-side with Eren's lips brushing against your strands as he speaks, "Should we go home now so we can have our hot, dirty sex or can we stop to get some burgers first?"

"Burgers."

"Heeeeey, that was supposed to be a trick question!"

[after-witch]

Doctor Doctor [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Doctor Doctor [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Needles and doctors and gowns, oh my. Overhaul only wants the best medical care for you--but the only thing you want is to get far away from his impromptu clinic. 

For request: Anonymous said: If you're still taking requests I would love to see what you imagine yandere chisaki would do with a darling that is terrified of all things medical, ESPECIALLY needles. Fic or HC

notes: yandere, medical stuff (needles, etc)

"Can't you just put me to sleep like you did before?"

You hate how whiny your voice sounds, how childish and light. But then again, everything you say feels small and pointless lately. Living with Kai Chisaki has a way of doing that to you. He has you on a schedule. He makes you wear night gowns and soft, flowing clothes. He makes you eat at the same time every morning, ever afternoon, every evening. He picks out your towels and your soaps and likes to use plaque rinse to make sure you're brushing and flossing adequately.

If only staring into your open mouth to look for spots of bright blue rinse was the extent of his medical inclinations. But it's not, and so here you sit, legs nervously kicking, on a medical exam table in a compact little room near his office. 

He brings you here every Monday for your... check-up. But this is the first time you’ve ever been awaken inside these four sterile walls. Normally, he sedates you--he lets you stick out your arm, trembling and terrified, then he injects you with a needle and when you wake up, you're back in your room, back in your bed, and the only sign that anything happened is the soreness in your arms and bandages on your skin.

But today was different. Today he gripped your arm firmly and led you to the room himself. The mere sight of the soft white walls and the examination table and the empty tray that will soon be filled with tools makes you want to vomit. You stumble a little as he guides you towards the table, grips your upper arm as you numbly let yourself be hoisted onto the cold surface, the icy smoothness broken only by a scratchy disposable liner.

You manage to meet his gaze and his eyes show nothing but condescension. He knows you hate doctors. He has to know this. You shrink away every time he insists on checking your blood pressure in the morning. Even weighing yourself on the scale, so he can make sure you're eating enough, makes your stomach twist in nervous knots.

"No more sleeping through your check-ups. I'm weaning you off the sedatives, (Y/N). It's not good to be so reliant on them."

You know this. And you hate being sedated, you really really do. You hate the way it burns your arm when you feel it rushing through your bloodstream and you hate those agonizingly slow seconds where everything is heavy and lidded and there's a terrible, burning fear that spreads through your body like poison. 

But at least when you let him sedate you before your "check-ups," it's a choice--a choice you're making, a choice that makes you feel sick and terrified, but a choice all the same. You always stick out your arm and try not to look and try not to cry, and then it's burning and darkness and lights out. It not the same as when you used to try to escape or when you sometimes (bad, uncontrollably thing that you are) scream at him or kick or have sobbing tantrums and get jabbed unexpectedly to calm you down.

He clears his throat, and you look up. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't see him standing there, waiting, with medical gown in his arms. You hate this medical gown. It looks thin and scratchy. It's a terrible, clinical blue.

"Can... can I just wear my night gown?" You ask. Your night gown is soft, and familiar, and comforting. And you’re stalling. 

He still has on his black mask, but you can tell he's smiling. A pity-filled, soft smile. The kind that makes you feel 10 inches tall. You hate this smile. 

"Not for your check up." He leaves no room for argument. He stares at you, mildly, and you know that there's no point in protesting. You take the gown in your slightly shaking hands. He turns around, as always, and you get changed. You were right. It is thin. It is scratchy. The coldness of the table seeps through the paper and makes your legs tremble even harder. You set your clothes down on the plastic bin set on the bed, and watch numbly as he sets it to the side.

Your body begins to feel weightless from anxiety. There's a deep-rooted part of you that wants to run, but even if there was somewhere to go (and there isn't) you know your legs would buckle the moment your feet stepped onto the cold floor. Your limbs feel like jelly. You briefly wonder if he did sedate you, and you didn't know it. But there's no burning or rushing, only fear, fear, fear.

So you sit (you’re so good right now) and let him measure your blood pressure even though the cuff hurts and you hate the sound the little bulb makes when it inflates; and you manage to breathe in, breathe out, nice and big, like tells you to, while he scribbles down your blood pressure (a little high) and your heart rate (a little fast).

You watch intently as he turns and heads toward a row of cabinets bolted to the wall. You crane and stretch and try to see what he's doing, what he's getting, what he's going to do to you. The fear enveloping your chest only tightens harder when you see him set down the syringes and tubes and little empty bottles. You're grateful that this all happens before breakfast, because it would be so much more than thin, acidic bile threatening to come up your throat at the moment. You know you're trembling, he knows you're trembling; but he says nothing, and instead heads for the sink.

"Kai." Your voice is soft and hoarse. Your throat feels constricted.

"Hmm?" He's scrubbing his hands with solution vigorously, obsessively. The sink is loud, a rushing in your ears, combined with harsh wet noises of soap-on-skin.

"I'm-scared-of-needles."

His hand twists the sink handle and the room is horribly silent.

"What did you say? The sink was too loud." He speaks firmly, nonchalantly, as he removes his black mask and instead straps on a medical one. It's a clinical blue. It matches your gown.

You can feel yourself starting to lose it. You can feel your trembles turn into violent shaking. Your legs are twitching up and down of their own accord. You tighten your jaw and try to gain control over yourself.

"I'm. scared. of. needles," you force out between clenched teeth. Your teeth chatter so hard you're sure that he can hear them.

You want to run. You need to run. Flight, flight, flight, you think.

He approaches you slowly, with his palms turned up. It reminds you of approaching a frightened animal. A lost dog, waiting to bolt.

"The needles have medicine," he says, patiently, matter-of-factly. "The medicine helps you stay healthy.”

You have to be calm. You have to be calm, or who knows what might happen. Your voice is still light and faint.

"Okay. Okay, I understand that." You lick your lips and they taste like stale, clinical air. "But I don't... I don't want you to use them. Can't I just drink my medicine?" You will drink it, you think, you will be so good and drink it all and then you can get back into your soft clothes and into your soft room and underneath your soft blankets where there are no needles or tubes or snapping rubber gloves.

His eyes crinkle. The damn smile. "You can't drink this type of medicine, sweetness." He turns and picks up one of the syringes. It's already filled with something. The needle on the end is small and thin and pointy and he's going to put it in your skin.

You don't do it consciously, you really don't. But you pull your legs up on the table and scoot furiously to the back, near the scratchy pillow, against the wall as far as you can go. "I don't want it!" Your tone is so high and so afraid. 

"Shhh," he says. He’s approaching you, approaching the wild animal, waiting to bolt.

"No," you say, "no, no, no." You don't plan it. You don't mean to do it. But your body can't flee, so it fights. And as soon as he's close enough, you KICK. The syringe flies out of his hand and onto the floor, clattering harshly on the floor. You watch it spin out and land underneath the sink.

You stare at the wayward syringe for only a moment before looking back at Kai, and oh. Oh. He doesn't look mad, he doesn't look mad. But he looks decisive and firm and you've seen this look before, this you-don't-know-what's-best-for-you look, and it makes you retch. Nothing comes up except a feeling of fear and even that lasts for a second, because in a moment he's pinning down your wrist without a word.

You squirm and cry out and breath harshly, but none of it matters because in a few seconds he has a strap wrapped and locked around your wrist. Your wrist is firmly pinned against the terribly cold table and he wastes no time in strapping down the other wrist.

"No, no!" You say, and you can do nothing now but kick and cry and scream. "Please, please, I'm sorry," you say, weak and fluttering. But it doesn't matter, either, and he holds your legs down and straps them tightly as well.

When you're all pinned down, nice and safe and immobile, he looms over you. "Shhh," he says, and you no longer feel like a wild dog but something more helpless and caught. A pinned frog, open on a table. A pinned butterfly, dead on the wall. He strokes your forehead and the rubber medical gloves (snap-snap) feel clammy against your skin.

"Poor thing," he says. "I should have know that this... phobia of yours might cause a strong reaction. Don't worry." He pulls off the gloves, dirtied with the previous task, and snaps on a new pair. "Now that I'm aware of how serious your phobia is, we can work on fixing it.”

He picks up a fresh syringe and approaches you. You keep your head raised and your neck hurts but you have to see what’s going on, what he’s going to do to you. You wonder if you can choke on air. Your throat feels so tight that it hurts. Your limbs still feel weightless, but they’re pinned--nowhere to go, even if you could float away from all this.

The sight of the syringe, so close to you, so close to your skin to your body to your blood, makes you wish you would just pass out. But you aren’t so lucky. Instead you watch as he swipes your skin with something that smells like metal and you take in a big, gulping sobbing breath as you watch the needle go in and you feel it pinch and pinch and it hurts, it hurts.

He pulls out slowly and you see a spot of blood underneath the gauze he presses on your arm. You look up him, tears already trickling down your cheeks, but you know there’s no argument, no pleading, that will work.

“I’ll redo the dose you kicked away earlier, and then we’ll move on to your blood samples.”

The bed is cold and your gown is thin and scratchy and you can’t move. You can only listen as he methodically picks up the dropped syringe and disposes of it, as he heads back to the tray with the bottles and needles and tools, as he fills up a sterile syringe and approaches you again. His eyes are crinkling with a hidden smile as he approaches you and swipes another area of your arm with the pungent liquid.

“This will be my first time trying out exposure therapy. But I know we’ll get through this together.”

You can’t watch, this time, and your eyes are shrouded in forced darkness as you feel the needle sliding into your skin.

[massivelycreepypineapple]

The Accident

Request:  I am here again!! I am so glad your requests are open😍 can I request on Jensen and daughter reader story? Jensen is a doc and reader is in accident. Jensen is her doc after she brought in hospital so no emergency no needed, dislocated shoulder maybe? Ooh ooh Needle phobia also? I wanted to add some more stuff but I am so excited that your req are open that I forgot everything 😂 please write if you can think of some more. Angst, fluffy stuff please? Gracias❤️

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Daughter!Reader

A/N: I hope this is alright. :)

Feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 2059

❅ ❅ ❅

You should’ve known that nothing gets past your dad, especially when you show up at his work place with a dislocated shoulder along with a small cut on your side to boot. It wasn’t anything serious really and not to mention it was such a ludicrously gained injury too, but leave it to the hospital staff to page your dad who was head of Orthopaedic surgery. 

“Where is she?! Where’s Y/N?!” Your dad’s voice could be heard. The nurse looking after you in one of the rooms turned around just in time to see Jensen storming in. 

“Hi Daddy” You grinned at him. You were a little loopy from the painkillers.

“Y/N! What happened, baby?” He looked so worried and out of breathe and he was still in his scrubs. It would seem he ran here after his surgery. He grabbed the clipboard with your details on it and began going through it.

“Nothing big. Just my bone fell out of place when I fell off my cycle. Stupid motorbike dude crashed into me.” 

“What?! Y/N!”

“Dad it’s fine. It was an accident. He lost control.” His anger sobered you up a little and you tried to calm him down.

“Lost control?! It could’ve been worse!” He was angry, his baby girl got into an accident and he didn’t know how to process it.

“But it’s not. It’ll be fine. Besides it happened close to the hospital. So some people helped me come here.” You made the mistake of shrugging at him and winced immediately. Luckily the painkillers were doing their job. 

“Don’t move, Ms. Ackles. You could make it worse.” The nurse said. She was a sweet thing who was very gentle with you.

He sighed. He didn’t want to argue about it right now. So instead he made his way to you to check on your shoulder. He gently grabbed your arm to check how bad the damage was, making you gasp in pain and tear up. 

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll just pop it back in no time.” He said, calming down to not spook you out even more.

“Daddy, it hurts.” You said wincing from the throbbing pain on your shoulder and sides.

“I know, honey. Just try to relax okay?” He said, grabbing everything needed for after fixing your shoulder. 

He came back beside you and motioned for the nurse to hold you. You looked at them wide eyed, the fear sobering you up a little. The nurse had a solid grip on your uninjured shoulder while Jensen grabbed your other arm, getting ready.

“Okay, on count of three, we’ll pop it back in.” He said looking into your tear filled eyes. 

You didn’t dare move. You sat there stiff as a board. 

“Sweetheart, you need to relax.” He whispered worriedly. 

“I can’t. It hurts a lot and I’m feeling cold. My left side hurts. I can’t relax.” You said sniffling. 

“Okay, look at me baby girl.” Jensen said standing in front of you. 

You looked into his eyes and a tiny sense of calm washed over you. Your dad always had a way about him that made you feel so safe. 

“Tell me about your day.” He smiled at you. 

“I-I didn’t do much actually. I just spent it watching a movie in my room before this.”

“Yeah? Which one?” 

“Ice age.”

Jensen laughed at that. “You always loved that one. You used to recite the dialogues by heart as a kid.” 

“Hey, it’s a really awesome movie.” You smiled a little.

“I agree.” He was rubbing your arm, trying to warm you up a little. He felt you relaxing as you talked more about the movie and while you were distracted, he motioned for the nurse to hold you once more. 

He watched your eyes widen when you realised what was happening. “Hey c’mon. Tell me more, don’t stop.” 

“Daddy-”

“I really like the tiger. He’s hilarious.” 

“Y-yeah. He’s like you when you’re grumpy.” You said smiling very little.

“Hey now. I always earn my grumpiness.” He said smirking at you. 

And as soon as you relaxed some more, Jensen popped the bone back into place making you gasp out in pain and gripping his scrubs tightly.

“Shh, it’s over. It’s over. That wasn’t so bad.” He kissed your forehead and wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“It was horrible! You didn’t warn me!” You snapped at him, still reeling from the pain. 

He put your arm and shoulder in a tight sling and then hugged you tightly to him, placing kisses on your head and summering apologies for not warning you.

“I don’t like you right now.” You mumbled into his chest. 

“Aw, man I’ll have to make up for this then” He said pulling back and booping your nose like he always did when you were a child. “Now lie back. Let’s take a look at your bruise.”

You did as he asked and lifted up your top. Jensen pulled back the bandaid stopping the blood to take a look at the gash. He noticed the small bruises around the wound going up to your ribs and he sucked in a breath. He pressed around the area to see how bad the damage was, making you flinch. 

“Luckily you don’t need stitches. And no ribs broken.” He mumbled mostly to himself.

You felt him, clean the cut once more before dressing it with a fresh bandaid. You noticed the frown on his face and your heart hurt for worrying your dad like that. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. 

Jensen’s eyes snapped back to yours immediately, “What for?”

“I got hurt and worried you.” You said. “You told me not to cycle during peak hours and I still went.”

“We’ll talk about it later.” He gave you a tight smile. You knew he was still upset with you for not listening to him and you felt really guilty. You were his only child and you were all he had after your mum died and it made him over protective of you sometimes.

Meanwhile, the nurse came over to you with a shot. The second you noticed it your eyes went wide. 

“Daddy, no please.” You whimpered. You hated needles. You were so terrified of them and the very thought of something sharp sticking into your body filled you with so much anxiety. 

“Sweetheart, this will prevent infections.”

“Please no I’ll take my chances. Get that thing away from me!” You were doing your best to not cry again. You already shed tears over your shoulder and you didn’t want to cry again over a stupid needle. 

“Y/N, I know you hate them, but it’ll be over before you know it.” He tried to sooth you.

“NO!” You yelled, trying to get up. But in a hurry you moved your injured shoulder making you cry out in pain. 

“Okay, okay. No shots. Just take a breath baby.” Jensen was doing everything to keep you still and not aggravate your shoulder further. He could see you were going into a panic attack and he was freaking out internally. There were only a few times he had seen you get this way and it had killed him. 

He coached you through the breathing and you had calmed down a little. The nurse had moved away to give you two some space which you were grateful for. Once you’d calmed down Jensen asked the nurse to place the shot on the table.

“I’ll take it from here. Thank you.” He smiled at her before she left. 

“Please daddy.” Your lips were trembling and the sight of you broke his heart. You looked like a little kid all over again and it reminded him of the first time you had to get a shot for getting hurt. You had created a big fuss and he had to carry you and walk around the hospital till you calmed down. 

“Be a good girl for me, baby? I promise this is the last one. After I’ll give some more painkillers, the sleepy kind so you can take a nap in my office till I’m done. Does that sound good, baby?” He said wiping away a tear. 

You shook your head no making him chuckle. But he knew he had your attention so he went ahead and cleaned your arm with a cotton ball and then reached for the shot. Your hands were shaking at this point and you wanted to run away so bad. Jensen rubbed circled on your arm, trying to show you that he was right there and he’s be as gentle as possible. 

You closed your eyes tight as he brought the needle close to your skin. “You’re so brave baby girl. I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he gently sunk the needle in. 

“I hate this. I hate this so much.” You kept repeating it with your eyes still closed. 

“There all done. It’s all over.” He smiled at you, rubbing the area with cotton once more. He got up and kissed your forehead once more before disposing the injection. He then brought over the painkillers for you to swallow. 

“Let’s go to my office. Do you want me to get you a wheelchair?” 

“No, I can walk.” You mumbled trying to sit up.

Jensen came over and helped you up and gently led you to his office where you promptly got comfortable on his sofa till it was time to go home. 

_______________

The two of you made it home after a few hours and you went straight to bed. But some time later you made your way back to the kitchen to get a midnight snack. Your shoulder was hurting and the bruises were painful too and you couldn’t sleep. 

You reached into the cupboard for some cereal and placed it on the counter. Everything was hard to do with one hand and adding the lack of sleep, you were frustrated beyond belief. You brought over a bowl and tried to open the packet inside the box with one hand. You yanked the thing really hard using your mouth for leverage and the damn thing split open, spilling the contents everywhere. 

“Dammit!” You cursed. 

You heard footsteps coming into the kitchen and you turned around to find you dad standing there looking amused. 

“Fancy seeing you here. Need help?” He asked coming over to you. 

You sighed at him. “I can’t do anything.” 

“It’s only for a few weeks. You’ll get better.” He said pouring the cereal into a bowl and taking some for himself. 

There was silence between the two of you while you ate. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jensen broke the silence. 

You shook your head, a frown still marred your face. 

“Same. Night shifts really mess with my sleep schedule.” He tried making conversation. 

There was silence again before you broke it. 

“Are you still mad at me?” You whispered looking into your now empty bowl. 

Jensen stopped the spoon midway, looking at you, and then placed it back in the bowl before talking. 

“No, honey. I was upset back in the hospital but not anymore. You just really scared me. You’re all I have left, Y/N. You’re my heart. If anything happened to you I don’t know what I would do. It’s why I expect you to listen to me. And as a dad it feels so unfair that the other guy didn’t get hurt while my baby did.”

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You said.

“It’s quite alright, baby. I’m just glad it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.” 

“Yeah…” 

“How bout we watch something on the telly for a while since we both can’t sleep?” 

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You smiled at him. 

He took your empty bowls to the sink as you went to the couch in the living room. He placed a lot of pillows against the arm rest and helped you settle into them comfortably so your shoulder wouldn’t hurt. He then got comfortable next to you, placing your legs over his leg. He turned on the telly and flipped to some random channel. Few mins into the show, you were fast asleep feeling much better with your dad next to you. 

❅ ❅ ❅

Tags below

@hobby27 @akshi8278 @castiellss @miss-nerd95

[music-my-angel]

The childhood needle phobia

Prompt - Hey love can you do one where the Janoskians need to get flu shots before they start their tour or something but Jai has a massive phobia of needles???

 ------

People have all kind of fears. Some fears can be explained while some, though irrational, were by all means as scary for a person as the rational ones. Jai classifies his phobia of needles as an irrational fear but there was nothing till date that he could help him calm down. Since childhood, it has been a nightmare to get him to take a shot. With time, his fear didn’t get better but he, instead, tried his best to avoid needles. Unfortunately for him, you can’t shy away from a needle your entire life, can you?

------

Ever since they formed the Janoskians, they’ve had numerous kind of injuries but somehow, Jai has managed to avoid needles. The one time that he needed stitches and a tetanus shot, the boy had stayed unconscious throughout it all. As far as flu shots were concerned, Jai escaped them all until the dates for their upcoming tour was confirmed.

Jai’s happiness of going on tour was cut short when Daniel reminded them that they needed flu shots since some of the places they were visiting were going through seasonal changes. They needed to protect themselves.

All of them nodded while Jai felt his anxiety level shoot up suddenly anxiety shoot up.

------

Beau had kind of forgotten about Jai’s phobia of needles until it was time for them to get the flu shots done. Daniel and him had got theirs done while James and the rest remained.

“Where’s Jai?” Daniel asked.

“He must have slept in” James chuckled.

Beau frowned slightly as he watched Luke and Jai walk towards the car, albeit slowly.

As they drove to the clinic, Beau noticed how quiet Jai was and the silent squeeze of the knee between the twins didn’t go unnoticed by the big brother.

That’s when it dawned on him.

Jai was afraid of injections!

------

James went first and Daniel accompanied him, wanting to film his reaction. Beau took the opportunity to approach his brothers.

“Luke, you go next” Beau said and noticed how Jai let out a short sigh of relief. “You alright kid?” Beau decided to give the boy an out.

Should he confessed he was scared, Beau would gladly take up the role of a protective big brother but in case, he wanted to not be treated as a kid and deal with this by himself, Beau would give him his space!

Jai gave a short nod that soon turned into a look of panic as Luke got up to get his shot.

Luke wasn’t really scared of needles and absolutely didn’t need his big brother to hold his hand but just to get Jai a bit relaxed, Luke went along with Beau when the boy winked and raised an eyebrow towards Jai.

“Look the other side, really quick, kiddo” Beau smiled.

Luke nodded, smiling slightly as he looked the other side, towards Jai, while he got his shot.

Jai smiled slightly until he heard James snickering, “Aww Luke needs big brother to hold his hand?”

And that was the exact moment when Jai’s anxiety got even worse.

------

Jai tried to get himself ready for the shot but right when the nurse reached for his arm, the boy couldn’t help but let out a shriek.

“Hey… Hey relax, kiddo.” Beau tried to calm the boy down.

“No… No… Get her away from me” Jai shouted, trying to scoot back in his chair.

Thankfully the nurse understood and backed away.

James bit back a teasing remark as Daniel glared at him while Luke cautiously approached his twin.

“It is okay, Jai. It doesn’t even hurt. Look, I’m fine.” Luke tried to show Jai his injection site.

The boy had tears running down his cheeks but he looked up at his brother, earning a sigh from the elder one.

Shaking his head softly, the eldest brother decided to take things in his own hands.

------

“Alright, we’re going to get this done now” Beau said.

“Nuh huh” Jai shook his head, not caring how childish he sounded.

“Yuh huh” Luke parroted.

Beau smiled, crouching down as he grabbed the boy’s chin in his hands, “Just look at me and breathe. Breathe in, hold it and breathe out. We’ll do that again.”

Jai wanted to fight against his brother’s hold but Beau’s voice was soothing and just like in his younger days, the youngest one couldn’t help but follow his big brother’s lead.

He was mirroring his brother’s breathing pattern when he felt the sharp ache of a needle through his skin. He was tempted to look at it but Beau wouldn’t let go of him.

He whined softly as the tears spilled but Beau was still smiling at him, soothingly.

“We’re done kiddo. We’re going home now, I promise.” Beau said.

A few minutes later, Jai was tucked in Beau’s side as he followed the boys out of the clinic, glad to be done with this flu shot.

------

To be honest, Jai wasn’t sure if he’d ever get over this needle phobia but as long as he had his brothers by his side, maybe he’d be able to sit through another shot, granted it didn’t come too soon. For the time being though, he was content to pout at Beau and demand an ice cream just like how it used to be in his childhood post any traumatic injection needing situation.

------

A/N

Hope you all like it.

[mandelene]

Drabble Request: Dentist AU with Arthur and Francis. Either or both can be a dentist, or one can be a dentist and the other a patient (with or without fear of dentists).

You’ve got it, anon. Here’s Dentist Francis featuring Scaredy Cat Arthur. 

Husbands and Fillings

Word Count: 948

It’s not that Arthur doesn’t trust Francis to handle his dental problems. He does. He knows Francis is completely capable and competent. 

That doesn’t change the fact that he despises dentists, even when the dentist is his own husband.

“It’s just a simple filling, Arthur. It’ll take 20 minutes,” Francis tries to reason as he takes him by his sweaty hand and guides him into an empty exam room where a blue dentist’s chair is waiting. “You’re my favorite patient, so I’ll be extra gentle.”  

“I’d rather pull the tooth out myself and be done with it.”  

“Don’t be dramatic. It doesn’t have to be pulled. Sit down, lie back, and just relax. I can take care of everything else. If Alfred and Matthew have both survived their cleanings and fillings, you will as well.” 

That’s a direct attack on his pride, so Arthur peevishly agrees to sit down in the chair, if only to prove his masculinity. Why would Francis choose such a horrible field? As a medical doctor himself dentistry never crossed Arthur’s mind. He once had to drain a tooth abscess in the ER because no one else was available and felt sick to his stomach for a week afterward. Teeth are his phobia. He can handle blood, broken and protruding bones, and other unsettling injuries and illnesses, but there’s just something particularly revolting to him about teeth. 

Francis clips a paper bib around his neck, kisses his cheek, and reclines the chair back so that he’s almost lying flat. “I love you, mon cher. Don’t shout too much—you’ll frighten the other patients.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Francis laughs and turns on the big adjustable lamp above the chair. Then, he pauses to consult the computer in the corner that’s currently displaying the x-rays he took of Arthur’s mouth two weeks ago.  He mumbles something under his breath before putting on a pair of gloves and a mask. 

“I don’t appreciate the sound of you plotting something terrible over there,” Arthur says. 

Francis sits down on a rolling chair next to Arthur and prepares to get to work. “Have some faith in me, mon amour…Open wide.”

Arthur releases the breath he’s been holding and begrudgingly opens his mouth. Damn his teeth for being prone to cavities and damn dental health for being important to overall health.

“Hmm, which tooth are we working on again? My eyesight keeps getting worse with age.” 

“Francis!” 

“I’m kidding. Dentist humor,” Francis assures with a soft chuckle. He preps a small cotton swab with benzocaine gel and rubs it against the area of Arthur’s gums where he plans to give him a novocaine injection. “The needle shouldn’t hurt as much now…I want my favorite patient to be as comfortable as possible.” 

Arthur abruptly closes his mouth to say, “I wish you’d stop calling me that.” 

“Relax. I don’t bite, Arthur.” 

“But I do.” 

Francis laughs again and coaxes him to open his mouth once more. “You’re so brave,” he teases as he fills a syringe. 

It’s hard to ignore the death glare Arthur sends him in response. 

“You might feel a pinch even after the benzocaine. Try not to move.”  

Arthur flinches slightly when the needle meets his mouth, but he doesn’t swear or hiss, which is an achievement. 

“You’ll get a lollipop and sticker if you continue to be so lovely,” Francis says, eyes crinkling with a smile that’s hidden behind his medical mask. 

Another death glare…

He withdraws the needle. “Your tongue, lips, and gums should start feeling numb, which, fortunately for me, means you won’t be able to talk back.”  

Arthur mumbles something that suspiciously sounds like, “Sod off…” 

Francis waits a couple of minutes to allow the medication to start working before he picks up his tools and starts prodding at Arthur’s tooth. Without Arthur’s interruptions and comments, the only sound in the room is the sound of the suction device now extracting saliva from his husband’s mouth. 

“Do you have any pain when I touch here?” Francis asks, poking at the ailing tooth. “You should be numb.”  

“Nghhhh,” is Arthur’s articulate reply. 

“Okay, good. None of what I’m about to do should hurt, so stop me if it does.” 

“Uh-hmmrghh.” 

“I’m going to use my scary-sounding drill now, but I promise it’s not actually scary.”

“Mghhhh.” 

“Close your eyes if it makes you feel better, mon amour.” 

 Arthur takes the advice, and from what Francis can see, he’s relatively calm and non-combative, which is a welcome relief. 

After a few minutes of removing any signs of decay from the tooth, Francis cleans the area with a water syringe. “You’re doing so well. I’m going to fill the cavity now.” 

“Mmghhhh.”

 “Pain?” 

“Nghhh.” 

Francis takes that as his cue to continue. “And then all that’s left to do is to harden the filling and polish it.” 

It takes about another ten minutes. Francis works in silence until he’s ready to remove the tools from Arthur’s mouth and announces, “All done! You can rinse your mouth out if you’d like.” 

He helps his husband sit up to reach the little sink stationed right next to the exam chair. 

While Arthur spits a mouthful of water out, Francis hands him a napkin and asks, “Not so bad, right?”  

“Dreadful,” Arthur complains, voice sounding a little muffled and funny because of his numbed mouth. 

“Really?” 

“But could have been worse.” 

Francis will take it—that’s as close to a compliment as he’s ever going to get. 

“And now you’re cavity-free! You’re welcome. You can pick up your sticker and lollipop at the front.” 

He earns himself one final death glare for good measure before Arthur storms out. 

[unikornu]

Page 11, Exposure

-Good ol’ wild west, our next target, Boss. And judging by the map we are halfway through, dayum, i’m fucking impressed how much we did. Gage let out a long whistle while eyeballing her pipboy map, approaching together the next target, Dry Rock Gulch. The rocks around were massive and the scenery was very convincing into bringing some dusty cowboy memories. Even weather was fitting their excursion. 

*plop* Lucy was working her jaw on a pre-war gum drops, making Gage nerve vein show up on his face each time she blew a balloon. -Looking how they…*plop* could create pretty much anything, no wonder Nuka World is so tempting as a base *plop*. He took a chance while Lucy mouth was running and gave her pat on a back strong enough that the gum flew out of her mouth. 

- Khyy, what the hell Gage? She coughed repeatedly and shook a fist in his face. 

-You know it’s annoying as fuck and ruining your teeth with all that shit it still has, consider it me taking care of your sweet mouth and my calming therapy. He grinned and turned his head towards the park entrance. 

-----

The wind was pushing small clumps of dry grass around and nothing could be heard from inside the park other than rolling paper cups. At the gate they were welcomed by the warning sign “Danger, Bloodworms!”. Lucy stood behind the raider and eyeballed a sign. -Bloodworms… She froze in place and the blood slowly drained down from the face making her fairly pale, despite the warm rays that were hitting them. Gage was relaxed, even slightly happy. 

- Ha, just some stupid worms? That’s it? Nice change for once, ain’t it Boss? Hm? Gage turned around back to her after not receiving a single response. She was standing, looking at sign and then back at him spinning the knife in the shaking hands. - You okay Boss? Don’t ya tell me you are scared of some crawling dicks? He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it a bit to get at least a word out her. - Boss?

- I…i…just got hit by the sun too much and blacked out for….a second. Uhm…ye worms, let’s go. You first since you are so….eager to stomp them. She lied through her teeth and took a deep breath as they started moving. Going right behind, nervously scanning area around, she pulled out silently a dose of calmex in a hope of injecting just a little bit more but as Gage stopped abruptly walking into his back, she dropped it on the sandy ground and kicked it aside hiding her failed attempt.

-Shit, you sure you are okay? You act freaking weird since we entered. Raider turned around his head just enough to show his angry brow expression and moved back on. Lucy let out a silent sigh seeing her syringe getting lost in a sand as they walked away. 

The robot silhouette showed up behind a corner greeting them with a very stiff cowboy act “yiihaah-doggies-of-the-wild-west”. - Now, that’s interesting…there will be nice spare parts once i’m done kicking the shit out of you, sheriff. Raider cracked his fist preparing to give machine a solid hit through the glass but Lucy pulled his hand away. 

-Just wait a moment goddamit, information first, smash after, right? He hmphed but backed away lighting a cigarette, letting her do the all the wire work. Few sparks in the back and there it was, every information they needed served on a table. 

Sadly as the robot recording was going on about the worms and possible nest the her face was turning more and more into fear expression. Before Gage had a chance continue on his disturbed action as he strolled around with his smoke Lucy was already out of control kicking the robot down and swearing uncontrollably. The sound of metal smashing and thumping reached the ground under, waking up everything lying beneath their feet. They were coming and they were hungry. 

----

- Well, good fucking job Boss…He threw the smoke aside and stuffed a fresh magazine into the rifle. Lucy was feeling the nerves crawl upon her legs and clenching its boney fingers in her throat. She was shaky as fuck trying to defend herself from parasites jumping out of the sand but with each one joining them she was losing this battle, mostly with her mind. Gage noticed her unusual moves, lack of confidence, something was indeed off but there was no time to talk. One of the worms managed to reach under her metal armor with its round jaws filled with hundred needles, biting into her shoulder blade in the back. She dropped to her knees, a fearful scream leaving her mouth just pushed her right hand man to shove more bullets into the crawling filth of this park. As he fended off the last of them he ran right to her, pulled the worm out of her back, ripping some of skin in the process. 

-Argh! That was so slow and gentle ugh. She groaned.

-Fuck, what the hell was that? What the fuck is wrong with you?! He was angry, demanded answers but she couldn’t speak, panting heavily, as she looked up and saw the familiar shadow, standing in front of her. Same one, over and over again, shaping into the man that was giving her orders 200 years ago.

 -“So weak, Feit. I’m disappointed”. He kicked her in the face, sending into unconscious state.  

Now Gage was not just angry but also worried. He noticed some unusual curly smoky shapes slowly fading in the air but assumed they were just radiation doings.  He threw her over the shoulder and carried to nearest shack sighting deeply.  They went through so much already, much worse, be it gators or glowing mirelurks but he still felt like she was hiding something or refusing to open up all of her secrets. 

---

A spiky sensation in the wound woke her up. It took more than one stimpack to make the blood start clotting with this one. Gage threw the empty syringe to the side and awaited in silence for her to stand up. He was calm but certainly not in the cheerful mood. 

- I…think, i need to tell you something more about… She started but the big palm of his hand grabbed her by the throat and pushed to the wall, cutting her sentence. 

- You think?! I fucking thought we trust each other at this point and that includes no motherfucking shit behind the back. He released her shortly, seeing her eyes widening in fear, not wanting to cause any more pain by pushing her to the wall but he didn’t back off. - And what the fuck is that? Dozens of calmex? Are you a fucking addict of sort and missed it at our lovely introduction last time? He pulled a bunch of syringes from the pocket that he stumbled upon while patching her up and put them aside on the broken table. Lucy was ashamed and sad, it was coming to her at one point, deciding it wouldn’t be such a big deal not to tell him about her phobia since bloodworms were pretty rare occurrence. Not this time tho.

 - Okay, fine! I use calmex very often. Got addicted to it even before the war, helps me to calm down, focus on many matters and when phobia kicks in. I’m sorry but i felt like its not that important and would just make me look i dunno… weak, Christ. She slipped down the wall slowly down landing on her ass and hiding her face with a hand. She wasn’t sure if to tell him about the shadow that haunts her as it would sound completely ridiculous to the simple man like Gage.  

- You looked pretty weak back there trying to hide it. Boss, while beating eaten slowly alive. I ain’t like too some shiet out there, fuckin bugs for instance, you should have told me something. He pulled a chair and sat in front of her leaning a bit forward. 

- It ain’t like that Gage, it’s paralyzing me, bringing those flashes from back when….the court decided to teach me a lesson. He popped open a bottle of nuka cola and handed it to her. Whatever sugar it has left will help her to boost up some energy. 

- Go on Boss…nothin to be ashamed off, get it out.  Seeing his surprising willingness to listen she continued after taking a sip. 

- I thought i was doing something good, wanted to deliver justice at every corner. It didn’t matter to me that the man i was defending had a crime past. He found out the court was corrupted, cops too, making up their own evidences and shit. He got pulled up there and i did what felt right, defended him. The judge…didn’t like it…i ended up in a dirty cellar, pulled out of my office and tortured. Gage crouched by her side and put the hand on her shoulder. 

- You don’t have to continue if its too much, Boss. He slowly raised her head with his fingers to look at her. She swallowed hardly yet another sip of cola.

- They said i needed my righteous bitchy mouth cleaned and they brought them….leeches, fucking hell, the disgust and pain… even if time went ahead two hundred years, for me it still feels so recent. Lucy left out a deep sad sight and looked raider in the eye. 

 - After that my..boss found out that calmex would calm me and dull the unnecessary memories and feelings during my jobs, making me more efficient and..i got addicted, pretty badly. Sorry i didn’t tell you, it just felt…stupid to share something like this. She pulled herself up, worried about his response but started putting her gear together, herself too. He stopped her by putting the hands on her hips and turning her around to face him.

- Hey we are in this together, our plan, fight, hell even fears included i don’t care what crap else, we are partners Boss. If u have a problem, we will fucking solve it, okay? I’m sorry for what happened to you, i truly am, fuck, but just…stop hiding shit from me, no matter how dumb it might feel for ya. Alright? They nodded at each other as an agreement and to her surprise Gage handed her back all the calmex syringes. - You will still need them here, that ain’t something u solve in one evening Boss but…we will get to that okay? Now let’s exterminate that shithole.

They came back, dirty from dust and blood, with a few bites too to the Fizztop but again successful, in the favor of Operators. As the drugs cleared out of Lucy blood system she rushed to the bathroom, ignoring the Gage’s yelling behind, pushing the door after her but still leaving an open crack. She had a strong urge to just take off her armor and clothes and scratch everything down with water from her. To her luck there was already one filled bucket under the sink. She undressed to her underwear and without hesitation grabbed a handle and threw it all over herself throwing the empty bucket aside. Gage heard all those noises and curiously peeked through the door small opening. She looked so desperate, rushing and harshly rubbing hands against her skin. Even the black dust around her eyes looked more dramatic than ever, smeared downwards and to the sides. He respected the boss privacy more than ever but this time it was just an act of care, reason, maybe something more that made him cross the line of the door. 

-Hey, its over. Just, shit,  try to calm down Boss. She stopped and looked at him, a bit embarrassed but slightly angry of being disrupted like that in the state she was. 

- I am calming down, right now, can’t ya fucking see?! She groaned but realized shortly he deserved a better response -Shit…sorry, i didn’t mean to snap at ya, you helped me get through back there but…i would like to be alone now. She sighted, grabbed her dumped clothes from the floor and slowly walked past him but his lower arm grabbing her around the waist stopped her. The pile of clothes flew from her hands down as he turned her around and pulled towards him.  

- No…that ain’t an option, not before i get to see that face back to its usual shape. He said with a low voice, almost growling, putting his other hand under her cheek, brushing his fingers through her wet hair.

- What the fuck are y--  He leaned to kiss her before she could ask anything more or worse, punch him in the face. Lucy decided to leave those two options for another occasion as her mind drifted off from the anger and stress, surprised by the raider move but fully committed to these few seconds.

- Shit. As Gage pulled off he expected at least a slap but her hands instead landed around his neck. His confidence allowed him only to stand still, looking down at her as he wasn’t really a man of many words, especially in these kind of situations.

- I didn’t expect you have it in you. She bit her lower lip. -You can go on, if you feel like. She raised her eyebrow at him letting a slight smirk twitch on her face. 

- Fuck..i do feel like, Boss. He grabbed her by the ass and pushed up. She allowed it, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him for another kiss, deeper and longer that round. Gage pushed her against the wall for better balance. 

They kept it for a while but raider didn’t cross the next line yet, didn’t want too and neither respect would allow him this time. He lowered her back as she pulled off. - You look better, Boss, especially with that blush of your face. He joked, trying to relax the atmosphere after, mostly for himself. 

- Thanks to you, i guess. She brushed her cheek and smiled, turning her head away.

They stood for a moment but Lucy decided to not ask any more questions, keeping these incidents as unprofessional as they can get and as much as he wanted to. Felt easier that way, not knowing what next day might bring.  

- You up for a small drink at patio before hitting the bed? She asked while gathering her clothes, scattered around the floor. 

- Actually, why the hell not, Boss. Business talk this time tho. He grinned and followed her to the patio. 

  The rest of the evening they indeed, drank and talked, sharing some more of their past and joking around. She felt good around him, safe even, slowly letting the thought of trust slip in and let her guard down at last. She drank down her last glass of booze before hitting him with last question. 

- Hey, can i sleep with you here, from now on? I still dislike open spaces like that but maybe with you around it will feel better. Gage paused, holding the glass at his lips putting it down slowly. 

- Do you mean fu...? 

- No, no. Just sleeping Gage, jezz. I will keep hands to myself too unless you feel like breaking some rules. She chuckled covering her smirk with a hand. 

- You better keep these hands away from my smokes. He joked back. - Okay, Boss, if you want to, i won’t kick you away, not on purpose at least.        

  It been hell of a time since they both slept with someone, sharing a pair of mattresses. Gage let her fall asleep first before he took down his eyepatch, wrapping it around his hand and turning his back to her. Lucy still kept her knife under the pillow but not for him this round.   

[gaudeixcc]

Peloton News – Chicken & Pork

Sitting in my kitchen about to start the usual factual tour documentation, I look out of my French doors and into the garden.

Literally, as I am about to punch finger to keyboard, a pigeon flies straight into the window.

20 miles to the South (my internal compass still accurate to within a few degrees) and one Captain Mark McEvoy sits cross-legged on his new yoga mat. He is, I suspect, in a deep meditative trance, communicating with the birds…well, one particular bird. He sees through third-sight the motion of digit towards MacBook and he seizes his opportunity.

There is a loud thud as the feathered fox food clumps against the glass.

Undeterred, I press on though. This is an important story to tell.

Munich really is a beautiful city. It has an unhurried feeling about it. Not too much hustle and bustle, but just enough. Clean and tidy everywhere and a sort of low-rise architecture with church spires scattered about the place, London this is not.

Sitting in the city-centre roof garden sipping beers with Macca, overlooking the city was a lovely start to this mini cycling trip.

We chatted about this and that. Furious disagreement on Coronavirus not even in the air, let alone the conversation at this point. (I believe that we need to be careful and manage the infection as the human price is significantly larger than the financial one. Macca believes that we should inject everyone in the eye with the virus and that the strong will survive and the weak will be thinned out nicely).

The drama of the evening was the arrival of Tommy Trusler with an arm in a sling (his own arm I should add). An outrageous rugby manoeuvre had seen him hit the deck and pain arrive with a jolt. Within 2 minutes of the news landing Macca had completely diagnosed both the problem and the rehabilitation period, had put the Truslers’ collective minds at ease and then laid out a spread of complementary peanuts to settle everyone down.

Next morning, the drive to our first port of call was largely uneventful. Deep into Italy and with a further 2 hours still to go to get to the eventual destination of lake Garda, we stopped for the day 1 ride.

The Sella Ronda. 42 miles and nearly 7,000 foot of elevation. This was going to be tough.  JT lead the pack out and immediately into the first tunnel. Somehow, I had found myself in second position. With this group, this is not a position which I belong in.

I didn’t know James had an uneasy phobia of tunnels. Why would I? Within 100 yards of setting off we entered an uphill sloping tunnel. There was a faint parping sound from the rear of James bicycle and he was off. For the first 15 seconds I thought it was just me getting used to the normal pace. I started panting. By 30 seconds my legs had started to squeal at the pace of the relentlessly pedalling Trusler. By the time we exited the tunnel my lungs were burning. They took 30 mins to lose that feeling. Seriously. 30 fucking minutes. We were less than 10 minutes into the toughest ride of the trip and we’d effectively started our marathon with a flat-out 400 metre race. I don’t remember Mo Farah ever adopting this tactic in the Flora 26….

Most tours I’m middle-to-lower Peloton. This mini-tour and I knew I was going to be at the back.

JT and Macca were known quantities. I’d also ridden with Neal and knew he was up there in the Macca-sphere somewhere. Andrew was an unknown quantity. JT had described him as ‘liking to get out front early before settling in to a rhythm. Strong rider’.

Over the course of the 3 rides I would describe Andrew a strong rider who likes to get out front early before settling into a rhythm.

What is particularly unusual is that in this instance James displayed some genuine human assessment to his rider categorisation. Normally his brain places people into 3 buckets.

‘Bucket 1, riders who are the same as, or better than I am. Bucket 2. Shit riders. Bucket 3. Riders ability unknown as mentally feeble.’

I know he sees me as firmly having two feet in bucket 3 with aspirations to climb into bucket 2. Macca has me pegged at the pre-bucket stage.

The ride finished with over 40 miles under the belt and nigh on 7,000 foot of climbing. That’s punchy in my book.

Friday’s ride was not much easier either. In fact, with the mileage in the legs from day 1, it felt the toughest of the days by a good measure. The climb after lunch was fairly relentless with a big high-teens ramp toward the end.

Whilst on the climb I came across a stationary JT. A few weeks earlier he had allegedly been severely injured in a freak accident at Center Parcs involving a waterslide and the wrangling of a small child. I didn’t like to probe. This injury however, whilst not apparent at the time (nor visible…. Nor complained about….or even talked about it seems) suddenly re-appeared on the ascent. A grudging acknowledgment of the severity of day 1 along with the unrelenting nature of the back-to-back-ness of day 2 was murmured.

Thrilled to have company at the back, I chatted light-heartedly until we arrived at Andrew, stationary on the steepest part of the climb so far, looking pretty fed up.

The sight of him stopped gave my brain all the excuses it needed to deploy the old executive decision to down-tools and break out the food.

I sat down under a tree.

I quite like sitting down.

The other two then buggered off.

I remained sat down.

The crest was only about 200 yards away as it turned out. When I got there, I felt done. Not since the last time, the fountain at Malaga I think, I had a little lie down. Again, not what you expect your average cyclist to be doing whilst out on a ride. I breathed deeply whilst listening the chitter chatter of the fellas discussing James’ alleged knee injury.

After the ‘CenterParcs vs small child’ explanation, Macca dwelt.

He narrowed his eyes.

There was complete silence.

His semi-sentient neural connection to the world wide web had latched on to a local wi-fi hot-spot and he had deployed a legion of web-spiders all armed with binary details of all of James’ symptoms onto the net.

His eyes lost all focus momentarily.

After a few seconds I think the first of the spiders returned as Macca suddenly arrived back in the present, eyes squeezed into a defined narrow gaze.

‘I think you have a damaged meniscus and in all probability a cyst on the inside of your knee’.

James pondered this for a moment. ‘You’re probably right’.

Behind Macca’s eyes, the fire raged. Fury and bile broiled in the pit of his stomach as adrenalin coursed through his arteries and soaked his brain.

Deep in his mind his basal ganglia fired messages to all parts of his thinking system and from the cold dark recesses of a structure billions of development years in the making, a dark, deep, cold voice uttered a single word……’Probably?’

Macca wanted to grab James by the throat and lift him off the floor and squeeze… his mind’s favoured Darth Vader manoeuvre. He wanted to lean in to him. Nose nearly touching nose. And quietly, in spittle filled words say ‘Probably?’

What he actually did was imperceptibly shrug his shoulders and gentle raise his eyebrows a couple of millimetres and softly said ‘seems likely’. The web spiders had started fighting amongst themselves. Macca calmed them down.

The rest of the ride was smattered with stops for food and some post-lunch ridiculousness in the form of immediate 20% climbs out of the town.

By the time the day had ended, we’d caught 2 cross-lake ferries, ridden a brutal 50 miles on top of the previous days efforts and were back at our lovely apartment for after-ride chitter chatter.

Saturday was nearly with us and general consensus was a rest day was required. All agreed.

The conversation slid to another climb which both Neil and James had done in the local area. Both riders had not managed to conquer this particular beast.

Massive gradient, brutal in a way that Mortirolo was…. but worse.

Brilliant. This was my chance. I’d been dying to put the needle into someone at some point. I was fed up of being the shit rider, now was my chance to lash out at the talent.

‘Wow….. I bet Macca could do it’.

That little bomb-shell deployed, I thought I’d settle back and watch it all unfold.

Whilst there was plenty of chatter about it, the white glove was not picked up off the floor. This was terrible. If Dripping had been here, the moment it was suggested he would have had a foot in a pink Rapha shoe, gels quickly thrust into jersey pocket, car keys in mouth, ready to go.

He would have failed of course, but Jesus H Christ he would have given it everything….!

Macca wouldn’t have failed. He is in phenomenal shape at the moment. Low on weight, big on power and with a ‘I will not be fucking beaten’ mindset, he would have crawled through broken glass to come out on top.

Still, I couldn’t convince him to give it a go. If he would have, I would have gone too. I would have given it a go. I would have failed. My mind, on seeing the ridiculous uncomfortableness of it all would have replayed the fact that Neil and James had failed, therefore there’s no shame in stopping, sitting down and having a bite to eat.

‘You know what today is don’t you?’ I parried in one last attempt to make the great seem mortal.

‘Chicken Saturday’.

It was a cheap shot. It was a final shot.

It didn’t work.

A great rest day followed where we swam in the lake, ate amazing food, sipped Negronis and generally relaxed in the loveliness of it all. Even went on a tour of a vineyard where unbeknownst to us, a small rodent-like creature ate half of James’ under-bonnet Jaguar.

The final day of riding was an early start and a just beautiful ride up and around the lake. Amazing scenery and some really lovely climbs.

What I came to realise during the course of the trip is that the Peloton needs its fair spread of performers. Being slower than the rest meant I rode pretty much every climb alone. Whilst Macca, Neil, Andrew and JT managed to broadly cycle tighter (I am assuming…didn’t actually witness much of this with my own eyes), I was at the back. Pushing against no-one. The other fellas had some competition. One trying to drop the other etc. This meant they all pushed hard, very hard at some point. At the back, a push resulted in the same thing as just grinding it out. Progress up an empty climb. It was not an easy 3 days of cycling by any means. 40 miles and 7,000 feet of climbing never would be. But did I ever empty the tank? No. Did I track someone down, hold their back wheel and then fuck the hell off when I sensed weakness? No.

For that sort of cycling in general, I need to rest of the lower-order Peloton and in particular, Dripping. I fucking hate being beaten by him. He has more capability and more sheer determination to suffer pain than I do. I beat him because the one thing I do focus on with a bit of bloody-mindedness is training. The day he does the longer training efforts, sharpens the weight, then I’m fucked. In the meantime, I keep plugging away and am just about keeping my nose in front…..just.

Cycling is different things to everyone. This trip also underlined the sheer beauty of the world we live in. Whilst cycling up the climbs I contemplated what was around me. I even took the odd photo. Competition and personal performance have their place. But…. and it’s a big but, for us mere mortals who don’t do this for a living, more eyes on the scenery and less on the heart-rate is probably a good thing. Perhaps in time as our performance inevitably wains the balance will shift a little and we won’t mourn the loss too much as we’ll appreciate the gain.

The white Jaguar piloted its way back toward Munich and made its way closer to my absolute tour highlight… ‘Pork Knuckle Sunday’. What a way to follow the disappointment of ‘Chicken Saturday’. Along with gravy, chips and a massive fucking pint of lager (technically not a pint, I know, but you get my drift).

James, not a driver for any of the world’s slow lanes, gave the cat a fair thump away from the service station following the pit stop. Pulling out (at velocity) onto the motorway, he snagged a yellow ‘engine warning’ light and the car went in to limp mode.

Macca’s eyes hazed over.

‘Please tell me the symptoms’ said Macca (whose voice tonality had suddenly gone all Alexa).

After James’ incoherent babble I casually thought for a moment ‘probably an emission thing after you hoofed it’ said I, not really caring as we still seemed to be moving and pork knuckle appeared to be at no particular risk.

There was a very quiet snort from the back-seat. Almost as if Holmes had just heard Watson’s completely amateur explanation of the what had happened to the murder victim in the hours preceding his grisly death.

‘I suspect’ started Sherlock McEvoy, ‘That an air and/or vacuum hose of some variety has become dethatched leading to the engine switching quickly into a self-preservation limp mode.  Likely cause? The Bavarian crested marmot. They like to digest rubber in the confines of a warm bonneted car’.

As dusk approached, the web-spiders where shepherded back to their pens and a calm quiet settled into the car.

In what has been an incredibly unstable year, I feel lucky that a flight to Munich booked pre-pandemic for some cycling in Germany ended up in Italy and played out exactly as it had. 2021 seems an awfully long way away. Success would be a full Peloton tour and narrow squinted eyes towards Dripping’s rear wheel.

Get out and ride my little schweinshaxe.

Hoppo

[ghostlydragonwings]

This is a long vent. Triggering topics. Don’t read maybe.

It’s so strange and infuriating to me how much other people can handle. My coworker is getting surgery on her wrist for a ganglion cyst and it’s so bizarre to me. When she told me about it I was like oh yeah I’ve had one of those for three years and she was like what and you haven’t done anything about it??? And just like...no. Why would I do that? The trauma of doing anything about it would be much worse than just living with it. 

It even irritates me to me to think about how she went to the doctor for it. Even that step would be traumatic for me and other people do it so easily. However, then she’s also willing to get surgery. I can’t imagine being willing to do that and she doesn’t seem scared at all. Like...she wants to. Getting surgery would be so traumatic. It’s something I think about a lot because it haunts me. I have always been terrified of needing surgery. I’m pretty sure I need surgery on my heel but I will never go through it unless one day I literally can’t walk anymore. I would rather be in agony my whole life than have a surgery. 

All the steps are terrifying. You have to have a needle in you for one thing. Needles are probably my greatest phobia. I don’t even have pierced ears. But you also have to keep the needle in you. I imagine I would panic if I ever had an IV.  Yes, I understand the hypocrisy when I’ve given animals IVs. It was something I felt very guilty for choosing to do to my own dog. However, she also never expressed being upset over injections so I felt she may rather go through it and feel a little better. 

However, the most terrifying part to me is imagining being put under. You are completely vulnerable and don’t know what happened to you. I’m so scared of getting molested while under. I used to think this was an irrational fear but then I read an article from a reliable source about how some hospitals have students practice pelvic exams on unconscious people without their consent. That has really fucked me up since I read it. I really shouldn’t have read it because it was very triggering but I already saw the title so I had to know. 

Also I have severe issues about being scrutinized. I would imagine they would talk about my body or something. There’s just so much that could happen that I would never know and I hate being vulnerable and at the mercy of anyone.

When I first saw the cyst I was afraid it was bone cancer. So naturally I pretended it wasn’t there because I was too afraid to think about it. Then my mom saw it and told me what it was and I freaked out at her for talking about it. I did research it after though so it was good to find out how to relieve my symptoms some. I don’t like anyone making any comments about my body. I get really upset about it. When it was big sometimes people would ask about it and it really upset me. Now I barely think about it. I take turmeric and ginger supplements for it and I think that’s why it went down. It was almost completely gone until I had to bathe dogs all day long. The strain on my wrists is great and I think I also have at least the beginning of carpal tunnel from washing and drying dogs all day but that’s another story. It only hurts if I’m doing too much with the wrist or if I mess with it it can move around and sit on a nerve. I bought a wrist brace because it can shrink if the wrist is stabilized but I hate wearing the brace. I wash and put lotion on constantly so it really bothers me. 

See? I’m not even willing to endure that discomfort for it. Why would I ever be willing to undergo something traumatic like a surgery for it? And this is odd behavior to many people. I don’t understand but I am very jealous. I wish I could just do things. Ganglion cysts can go away after some years on their own. I think I had one on my finger for years as a minor but I managed to hide it. I thought a piece of cartilage had broken off and was terrified of being taken to the doctor for it. It was uncomfortable but I’m glad I never did anything about it because it’s gone now.

Anyway the point of all this is that I’m very jealous of how people react to their pain etc. Imagine if my reaction to health problems wasn’t to hide it? lmao. This specific circumstance gets to me because it’s not something you have to treat but people still would. People really just go through like without so much fear and I’m jealous. It’s not even that I’m such a pain wimp. I’ve been self harming since I was 10. It’s all about control I think. I’m terrified of lack of control and being violated.            

[thehappiestandunluckiest]

Being Radioactive

If the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of radioactive is the imagine dragons song, same.

So, January 10th, I traveled up to Lisbon. A scared, young gazelle, about to absorb a radioactive substance that would hopefully kill the powerful assassin that had taken over her 20 year old body. Something that I never had felt before but felt as soon as I was told that I had cancer was.... There are multiple cells in my body right now just eating away at my temple, and I have no power over it, and at any moment one could just go on a little trip through my body and stop at a vital organ and make itself at home and have little babies and over run my body and kill me. Now, I know that sounds so dramatic, but that’s how it feels, or at least that’s how I felt. I felt helpless, like a ticking time bomb, cancer is a bitch but feeling so helpless and even worse, feeling like a foreigner in your own body was so odd. I felt displaced like I was in my body but also being kicked out of it. I know I didn't have it anywhere near as bad as others have, I was lucky, I am lucky, that’s what I kept telling myself. But I couldn’t ignore feeling like I had an army of little Hitlers in my body, over throwing my own cells, altering my hormones, chewing through me. 

I traveled up to Lisbon, smile on my face and jokes always on the tip of my tongue, but that’s how I react to stress, that why my bosses always love me, I thrive in chaos, or at least I trick everyone else into thinking I do. I was anxious but relieved to be getting this out of the way. If all worked out, I would be free of these pests that contaminate relentlessly. But i would also be having scans to see if it had spread, and that freaked me out, I wanted to be oblivious and stay in denial but I know that’s not the way to go.

So we travel up to Lisbon, and have two days as an out-patient where I spent a couple of hours each day having tests run and injections given in the oncology dept. It was fun having THE nurse from hell. I’m joking, but she sure was a character (and we all know what that means). Now I am not mean, but you will soon understand why I didn’t gel to this woman. So she grabs me and drags me to a room, “oh the nurse has vanished, we will just have to start ourselves” this set off alarms in my head - she seemed super hostile and her stabbing me with needles was not what I wanted. 

She flings a plastic cup at me, “you have to pee in this”, she throws me into a bathroom, with another girl trying to pee into a cup. She goes “HA! oops” and closes the door. NOW LISTEN HERE! Have you ever had to pee into one of those cups? It’s a very very vulnerable position to be in. Hunched over, begging your bladder to open the flood gates, hand in the toilet bowl covered in your own piss. I felt so sorry for her. So I pee into this cup, clean up and go back to the nurses office. The older nurse is back and I let out the breath I had been holding in out of anxiety. Now, I just want to mention that all these stories are super real and I for real can’t make this sh#t up!“ God! Those shoes need to go into the bin! They’re so dirty.” She says as she’s leaning on the door frame. 

This woman! I’m sat in the chair anxious awaiting the medicine that will help stop me from dying and she’s talking about my slightly dirty sneakers....So, the older nurse asks me where I’m from, she worked in London for a few years so we get into some small talk whilst she takes my blood, she’s distracting me from my ridiculous phobia. She asks me what I’m studying. “Oh - no. I actually work in a hotel, I’m a waitress.” “WHAT?! You don’t have a degree? How far is that going to get you, you can’t go far in life without one?” Now at this point I wanted to puke on the floor, not because I felt sick but so she would have to clean up my bile from the ground - that’s her job, how amazing is your f#cking degree now love? But I am a good christian girl so I simply say “well, I didn’t want to go to university. I got a good job straight out of school in a company that I can evolve in and have been evolving in”. The older nurse says she agrees that I am doing a good job going after what I want and not what is expected of me and that its the fact that you love what you do that counts. “Ok Emma that’s everything for today, see you tomorrow, same time!”

Now lets get to the real radioactive part. 

Let’s set the mood. I haven’t eaten anything, not that I’d want to. Yesterdays injections have a side effect of headaches, not too bad. I am pale, make upless and wearing xxl sweat pants and an xl sweater - I’m more sweatpants than human but it made me feel all cozy. I have a suitcase filled with art supplies, my laptop, books and toiletries - the essentials you might say. Feeling sorry for me yet? I actually wasn’t too worried only one side effect - the slow death of suffocation if your esophagus swells up from the radiation burning your salivary glands. No biggie. (I would like to inform you all that even though this is all true - its sarcasm just for anyone who’s worried about me).

The hospital is huge, and very luxurious. Everyone is walking around with gucci bags and beautiful tans and I’m looking like hell but that’s ok I’m beyond caring. 

I’m escorted to my room, it’s beautiful. Huge windows, lots of space, overlooking some of the city and the pediatrics block. I’m given the big speech explaining everything, let me give it to you in precis form as my Dad would say. I have to flush the toilet 4 times when i poop, and twice when i pee. The toilet has chambers so you have to aim said poop and pee into these chambers (it was like yoga trying to get into positions to aim but I don’t want to describe my bowel movements too much we aren’t that close yet - at least buy me coffee first!)

So the room is lovely only noticable difference is the space odessy esque toilet, and the huge lead panel that is placed infront of the door. They repeat that all of this is not for my own safety but for everyone elses, I harness all the power - is this the part where I become a super villan? 

The fancy director of nuclear science came to my room in her anti radiation suit (yes - just like in HBO Chernobyl) and I injected the little pill through the rather odd tube. It was in a big lead box and had all the hazard signs on it and and made a  *shhhhhhhh* sound when the box opened, what a fancy-dancy little pill.

Surprisingly I did not glow in the dark or have magnetic abilities - disappointing to say the least. 

My two day stay was pretty uneventful, the food was actually quite good. I drank 10l of water and 2l of pure lemon juice - I was on the toilet ever 30 minutes and spent a good 7 minutes each time for the flushing routine. This lemon juice was to keep my salivary glands working which would stop my throat from swelling and thus stop me from maybe chocking myself to a long, endless sleep. I ended up with ulcers in my mouth from the lemon juice, BUT my skin got really clear and I had never felt so hydrated in all my life. I was left alone and my only comunication with my nurses was through the telecom. When my food was left for me I had to stand in the corner next by the window and wait until they had left my food behind the big lead panel before I could move again. It was kinda crazy because they looked at me like I was a monster in a cage. You know when you were a kid and turned the lights off in the hall and ran to your bed out of fear of the dark? That’s how they looked at me - it was oddly humourous and simultaneously eery and isolating (but I am writing this entry during the COVID19 pandemic and have been isolated in my house for 2 months now so that was nothing looking back on it).

All fluids that came out of me were very radioactive so I had to shower often. I was scared of choking in my sleep so I set alarms every two hours (I’m just very cautious ok!). On my last day I needed to have an MRI and blood tests done and so myself and another young girl, same age as me and same situation as me, were escorted to the tests area. We wadled through the whole hospital, the nurse would ask everyone to stay away from us and people would scatter away from us like we were radioactive - wait a minute.....

I had my scan, and had the geirger meter see how radioactuve I still was. Honestky this was what I was scared of. Not the actual treatment itself but what the results would be. I think this is a normal fear. It would change everything. Had it spread? Had it evolved into an even more malicious beast? So many thoughts running through my head. We went back to our rooms and awaited these dreaded results. 

My dad had driven up to Lisbon to pick me up, he loves the drive. He calls and says that he is going to wait for me to be ‘set free’ until he goes into the hospital (all of us have spent too much time in hospital to the point that its a normal place to spend our time so we try and avoid it like the plague). 

The doctor comes into my room and stands right next to me. Crazy human contact wow it’s so crazy how powerful having someone even just stood close to you has an effect on you.

My results are very positive - thank God. I smile and thank the doctor, I really am so happy. This enourmously heavy weight has been taken off of my shoulders, my eyebrows unforrowed and my shoulders eased up, my jaw declenched, my stomach stopped its sumersaults and I could breathe again.

The nurse calls me to say I need someone to come and get me for me to be discharged. I try and call my dad, straight to voicemail. I message no answer. I call my mum no answer. I call my brother, finally an answer after 4 attempts but he’s useless to me 2 hours away. shit. I am finally free and I can’t get out of the damn place! After an hour of me trying to call him and me freaking out because I don’t want to be stuck here any longer. I hear a voice through the door. “I am looking for my daughter”, ok lets get out of here. 

I cant hug anyone or stay too close, I am tired but dying for some icecream. I finally am free, free of this monster. I wont be 100% out of the woods for a while yet but for now I am good. I stay in isolation at home for a week before I am allowed back out in public. The day I finally go out in public is to the shopping centre. I set off the alarms. The security alarms were going off as I walked past them. I walked through the shopping mall lauging like a lunatic, I really was radiocative after all.  This was it- my super power. 

I still worry from time to time, I get little scares and I obsessivly check for lumps and bumps, but I can rest a little easier now. I hope noone has to go through what I went through, or anything of the sort. But I would like to say that it wasnt all that bad, the treatment ran so smoothly that I thought that they had given me a dud pill. The operations before the treatment were also very smooth sailing. The whole thing went by easily (as easily as cutting your throat open can go), Why am I saying this? Because before I went for treatment I wanted to see how others reacted just so that I knew what to expect and so that i could prepare. Online everything was negative, blogs said that it was the worst experience. Not that it’s a great experience either but I think it’s important to not scare people about these things. Being sick sucks. It truly does, but being cured, or trying to get better is a true blessing, and us lucky lucky individuals who have access to health care (and even luckier if its free health care) and those of us who can go through these operations and come out on the other side should be so so grateful. I’m grateful for my operations, my access to clean hospitals, the best medical professionals, the kind auxilary staff that smiled at me when I was scared, the recepcionists that winked at me and wished me well. My parents that drove me accross the country to be treated by the best. My job for giving me health insurance that helped pay for some of the costs.

What I’m trying to say is that we sometimes over think the bad, and honestly I could easily sit here and write about a WHOLE LOAD of bad that has happened to me, but it wont changed anything or make it better, but what does is looking back and saying wow- I am so lucky. I had people send me best wishes, my collegues at work looked after me when I was ill, my family cared for me when I wasn’t able to do so on my own. Be grateful, add sunshine to a rainy day and see the rainbows appear. 

love,

Em x

[wxldchxld]

10 random headcanons

what do they sleep in? pj’s, normal clothes, nothing?

It depends. I’ve pointed out that Beck travels with a minimal amount of clothing. In most verses that is comprised of a few shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a set of shifter’s robes. The robes are the softest of which… but they’re odd. They’re long sleeved but the ends of the sleeves, from the elbow down, are wrapped. It’s one long continual piece of cloth to wind around her forearm down into the crook of her hand, so that only her thumb and fingers are exposed. The pants are the same from the knee down, and there’s a cape that is affixed to one of the shoulders that can be removed but is a pain. As a consequence she only wears them when she’s very cold, usually under a normal shirt, using the cape as a pillow and then ducking under a blanket.

If she’s hot, she just starts taking off layers until she’s comfortable. 

When she’s staying in verses like the one with Ros, she probably just sleeps in her jeans or whatever until Ros undoubtedly finds out and harps on her for not having any actual clothes.

Beck would be super into pajama sets if they were practical. The flannel plaid kind in the winter or just those sets that say something stupid on the shirt and the pants have a matching pattern. Unfortunately looking cute isn’t worth lugging extra clothes around when you travel 24/7. Her most common sleeping outfit is whatever the fuck she was wearing that day.

how many blankets / pillows do they like to have on their bed?

Ummmmm normally that’s a grand total of zero as she doesn’t have a bed. Bunched up clothes are her go-to pillow. She does have a special blanket that has a temperature regulating charm on it. The blanket is rather large but she keeps it because if her dogs so much as stick a paw under it (and they usually cuddle on cold nights anyway), they’ll all be suitably warmed. Likewise in the summer, laying on top of the blanket will lower her temperature if it needs to be lowered. 

Cora wove the blanket and enchanted it herself and if it were to go missing or be damaged in any way she would but VERY distressed. It is made of blues and greys with little orange foxes and grey owls alternating in a pattern around the edge.

Again in domestic situations Beck most likely has a pillow. It probably takes some time to adjust to. She isn’t picky about how many, and for the first few weeks she can probably still be found with her jacket bunched up under her cheek. I feel like if she were in this situation for a long period of time she’d come to want LOTS of pillows to cuddle into because Beck likes to be snug.

do they have social media? do they like it or hate it? obsess over it?

Heeeeell nooooo. Beck doesn’t own a phone, a computer, or anything that she can be tracked by. In fact in more domestic scenarios Beck will actively protest having a phone for a very long time. If she ever breaks and decides to carry one, it will be used to call or text like one or two people, and frequently allowed to die/be left somewhere. Beck sure as fuck doesn’t put her name/face out there. She wouldn’t even be comfortable using a fake name for twitter. No. No to all of it.

what are their phobias? do they have any at all?

Being caged/locked up is one of her big ones. She can handle it for a short period of time, and then as hours and days go on she will become increasingly hostile and eventually violent. At this point she has generally reverted into one of her animal forms and is dangerous to interact with.

Needles is another big one. And it’s a lot less about the needle and more about she doesn’t trust anyone injecting anything into her or even taking anything out. In fact getting Beck to use any sort of traditional medicine at all, even a couple of cold pills, is an incredible pain. She will not give blood for charity or even medical testing. If you want to stick her, you’re gonna have to hold her down tight.

Tryhophobia too. For those of you unaware it is the fear of holes. Pictures of those flowers with the small clusters of holes and shit really gross her out and she’ll get really pissed really fast if she’s forced to look at them. I do not know why, I just know it bugs her.

do they like living alone or with another person / other people?

I think Beck, ideally, would like to live with one other person. She has no desire to live in a large communal family. She would be happy with one person, and having close family members not too far away, but also not up in her business. Unfortunately her insatiable desire to travel often overpowers her desire for company. Many of Beck’s relationships end because Beck just can’t stay in one place for very long. Her lovers/friends have to come to accept that they either go with her (which Beck would love) or they patiently await her return. She doesn’t think this is fair, and has broken up with multiple partners because of this.

The fox in her usually lets her be totally content on her own and she’s spent the majority of her adult years in scarce or fleeting company. Holidays are hard, as well as birthdays, but she doesn’t generally crave attention

where do they see themselves in 2 / 5 / 10 years?

Off in the wild, doing the same thing she’s doing now. Even in verses where she’s in one place, like the one with Ros, Beck doesn’t expect to stay there. I’m not saying that won’t change in time, but that is currently where she is in her life.

are they possessive over their things? or over other people? both?

Yes and no??? Beck has a few things that mean a lot to her. For instance Cora’s blanket and her father’s music box would be defended tooth and nail. She has a few other magical items that she doesn’t give up but that’s basically because she doesn’t want them in the wrong hands, it’s not a possession thing.

When it comes to people Beck is… complicated. Beck doesn’t share lovers. She’s cool with them flirting with other people, because she does, because that’s just how she communicates, she is not cool with anything beyond that. She is much more likely to get her feelings hurt if her significant other is say, constantly hanging out with some other chick. She’s insecure in her relationships because a lot of them have fallen through and over all she just doesn’t have great luck staying with other human beings in lasting relationships (romantic or otherwise). So I don’t think that’s really jealousy.

She is possessive in the way that those are her people though. It takes a long time to get this level of loyalty from Beck, because Beck is NOT a self-sacrificing kinda gal, but she will protect what is hers to the death if it comes down to it. She’s also very emotionally protective of her people. Actually Beck has an almost compulsive need to protect most people emotionally. Beck constantly wants to comfort people, even strangers. She doesn’t like seeing anyone sad or scared or in pain, and she’ll go out of her way to stop this. (That was a major mókus moment, and had nothing to do with the prompt but whatever).

what do they never, ever want to speak of, ever?

Beck doesn’t like to talk about her abuse. Especially the abuse she suffered at the hands of her brother. But she does want to tell someone, she wants someone she can put that trust into, she wants someone in her life that understands. She is way too scared to do so unless her back is against the wall for fear that people won’t understand. Beck doesn’t demonize or even dislike her brother. She loves him deeply and worries for him and wishes every day they could go back to being childhood BFFs getting into shit and driving her Aunt B nuts… but they can’t. She knows that no matter how good things might be for a little while, Fen is a sick man and she has an inescapable wanderlust. Eventually if she went back, things would get bad again. But it hurts her. She doesn’t think anyone else would understand this, so she doesn’t say anything about it.

do they have a short temper? what’s most likely to set it off?

Not at all. You’re much more likely to upset her/make her cry than you are to piss her off. Luckily the former doesn’t happen that often either. I don’t think Beck has ever actually lost her temper on this account. I have one thread where she got pissed because she’d been locked up for days, but I count that more as a response to stress than really just getting pissed at someone.

Beck is nonviolent AF and her response to frustration is generally to just leave when someone is getting on her nerves. Occasionally she’s stuck in a situation where she can’t get away from people that get on her nerves/she doesn’t like. And she fox in her says that is her cue to make their lives absolutely miserable. Harry from our Foxy Ladies verse would fit into this perfectly. And Ros should thank god that Adam isn’t there anymore because Beck would have NO patience for him. But she’s not really... mad. Or losing her temper. She just thinks it is fair. They make her miserable and she can’t get away, so she’s going to annoy the piss out of them. Fair is fair.

do they take baths or showers? do they prefer one over the other?

Beck wants to know if getting rained on constitutes as a shower? She’s pretty sure it does. Because sometimes the weather man calls them showers.

Normally, in most verses, Beck will bathe in creeks or truck stops or those places hikers can stop for supplies and shit. It’s maybe like twice a week, sometimes less in the winter, sometimes more in the summer. 

If given the choice Beck likes baths. She dislikes things spraying in her face, and she doesn’t like the tiny holes that make up shower heads. They gross her out to look at. But she doesn’t like to soak too long. And daily bathing is something she has to readjust to in more domestic verses.

[inkuisitivskins]

(I'll try to give solid answers.) 7, 11, 14, 15, 19, 23, 36, 53, 70, 79, 80, 84. Sorry, I'm greedy hahahaa

I’ll try to give solid answers

7) What’s your strangest talent?

I know a lot about dinosaurs? So I guess I can talk about them for a while x’D I guess people find it kind of strange that I both draw AND write, so I guess writing is too though I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a talent ;;

11) Do you have any strange phobias?

I kind of have phobias of the paranormal and parasitic things (they’re just disgusting and awful), and I faint whenever I get blood drawn or if I have to get an injection bc I hate big needles (says the diabetic). I definitely wouldn’t call any of those strange though x’D I’m not afraid of heights, planes, or small spaces, and I say those in particular because I love all of those despite them being common fears uwu

14) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

I like never go outside, but if I am currently, I’m playing with my chickens

15) Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind definitely, unless I’m in cosplay! I didn’t mention this in the other ask I got about this but I was actually considering hiring a photographer to do a shoot for my cosplay next week at A-Kon, but if I’m not in costume, 99.99% of the time, you won’t find me taking selfies. I hate the way I look x’D

19) What does your URL mean?

It started out as just a cool phrase that popped into my head when in the shower one day, so I made a character based off it. She’s this creature designed to be a war machine and she can shed her skin whenever her body takes too much damage. Kinda thinking I should draw her more, she was like an animal but I doubt anyone would want to see her x’D

23) How do you vent your anger?

I honestly don’t get angry a ton anymore? I mostly get sad. And literally no joke, I’ll either talk about Livmiles, whine about what made me sad on twitter, or make vent art. 

36) Define Art.

Copypasting bc I liked my prior definition owo

Art is anything you create to serve a purpose. That can be to express a mood or feeling, to convey information, or even more practical use. Even in a blanket term, I’d say machinery, for example, is art, because it took brainpower to design such a thing that is built in such a way to fulfill a need.

Even if there wasn’t really a “purpose”, it could’ve been to improve your art skills, or to cure boredom, etc. 

53) Do you save money or spend it?

Kinda depends? I don’t make a lot, and my interests (mainly gaming and anime/gaming merch) are all very expensive… So I try to save, but whatever I save usually gets spent pretty quickly on only a few things x’D

70) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

Sometimes? I find myself annoying a lot but I mean, I make friends quickly with people who have I have similar interests with, so I’d kind of want myself as a friend?? idk .u.”

79) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Kinda dumb, but joining the International Baccalaureate program in high school. It gave me a school experience I finally enjoyed, despite the extreme stress and workload. A lot of people in it hated it bc their parents forced them into it, but I did it willingly and I regret absolutely nothing with it. It even allowed me to go to Italy my junior year, and before then I had only been out of Texas three times x’D

It also gave me 41 college hour credits, so I techically went into university as a sophomore (though I’ve fallen back a year due to my life threatening type 1 diabetes diagnosis in October, so I guess in reality I’m in the same class as everyone else now x’D)

80) What size shoes do you wear?

Usually a 7 or 7 ½ in US women’s! I’m about 5 ft 3 in so it’s about average/small I believe?

84) What is a saying you say a lot?

Other than “what the fuck”, probably “that’s Olivier” or “that’s Miles” or “that’s Roy” to my friend Beck whenever I see something remotely like their characters/personalities x’D I only really ever say it to him but I say it so fucking often I’d not hesitate to say it’s stuff I say a lot. 

Thank you for the ask Parisa!