#bone case reports

[oxfordpublishers]

Journal of Bone and Joint Diseases Case Reports published Case Reports in Joint Bone Spine, Case Reports in Bone Joint Surgery, Case Reports of Bone Disorders, Case Series of Bone Diseases, Clinical Image in Bone and Joint Diseases, Journal of Bone and Joint Diseases etc. Bone and Joints such as wrists, shoulders, knees, ankles and finger joints allow your body to move with ease.

[catchcrows]

man, something about interacting with wildlife in western europe will never not be so, so fucking weird to me

like it truly does feel like you have to make a concerted, intentional effort to encounter A Creature in a way that i've never experienced before (disclaimer here that i grew up and lived in cities where The Outdoors started well within city limits and we regularly had deer and cougars and coyotes just fucking meander through town, i'd probably feel differently i grew up in the middle of nyc or something)

jfc let alone how wild it was to live in the manicured garden island of the uk, although even in belgium my colleagues tell me that you really have to be deep in the woods to encounter a wild animal larger than a cat (and fucking forget about large predators/herbivores)

anyway! was pondering this again bc i got got by a stray cat a few days ago (unhappy accident, i was sat on a bench and a cat jumped up bc it didn't realize i was there and got startled, but immediately wanted to be pet the second it realized i was Just Some Guy). so i went home, cleaned and disinfected it.....and then spent an increasingly baffled twenty minutes trying to find what my options were for getting a rabies vaccine course and only getting options for rabies vaccinations upon return from foreign countries, before i remembered that belgium is considered a rabies-free country lmao

ffs my colleagues looked at me like i was asking them directions for the oregon trail when i was telling them the story

[osterby]

The thing all the archaeologst vs. trans body things misses is that archaeologits will know that we were trans and will care about what that meant for us. Even if the archaeologists themselves were to come from an impossible future where no one is trans and where male and female sex and gender binaries are rigid and clearly defined, they would know that we did gender differently and they would be digging us up to find out who we actually were, not to squint at a funny angle on a fragmented ilium to decide which box to put it in. The whole point of archaeology is to learn about the past, and archaeologists understand that the past is not precisely identical to the culture they live in. And future archaeologists, no matter their own culture and perception of gender, are going to have even more tools for getting information out of corpses than we do today.

Right now we can look at someone's hair from 2000 years ago and tell where their drinking water was coming from*. We can look at the DNA in a tiny sliver of degraded bone and know the person had Klinefelter Syndrome. It's very common for archaeologists to look at a body for signs of dentisty, injury, illness, or medical treatment.

Future archaeologists will absolutely have the tools to look at our bone fragments or teeth or mummified skin and understand things like HRT and top surgery. I fully expect anyone working with my archaeologically significant remains will be able to tell at what age a person started T or E. They might make some wrong guesses about our culture and our feelings about our genders, and they might have trouble telling the exact gender of a person from their remains and grave goods, but they will know that trans people existed and they will be able to recognise a lot of us in the archaeological record., and the relative length of a femur will have very very little to do with that.

Grave goods are another important facet of gender in archaeology which is often overlooked in the mainstream. Take a look again at the person with Klinefelter Syndrome; before we had the DNA results, people had various theories about this person's biological sex or lived gender based entirely on the grave goods. We believe the person buried at Sutton Hoo was a king and a man, because all the grave goods are typical of that social role and gender; there is no body left in Sutton Hoo with bones to measure or DNA to test, all we have is a the outline of a ship and the metal grave goods. If you are buried in a suit and your headstone says "brother and son", the archaeologists are going to assume you are male long before they measure your bones (get your wills in order, guys. Don't get buried under a deadname).

Don't worry about your bones getting measured by a twitter phrenologist. Let your burial reflect who you are, and trust the future archaeologists to be curious enough to look at your actual remains and grave goods in the context of what they know about your era and culture, and go "yup, that sure is a trans person who ate a bunch of microplastics circa 1900-2400CE".

*I love this paper in particular because it's such a snarky rebuttal to another paper, but that's beyond the scope of this reblog.

Only the most miserable people on the planet are obsessed with bone structure. Terfs. Incels. Racists probablty. Whoever still thinks that the weird skull shape astrology- no wait I did remember the word. Phrenology. Whoever still thinks that phrenology has any scientific value. Nobody who's enjoying their life goes out of their way to turn the framework of your meatsuit into an inescapable prison.

Future archeologists aren't going to look at my implausibly well-preserved carcass and go "this is a female skeleton", and call it a day. They're going to look at it and go "hmm, this isn't the standard early 2000s era cadaver amount of microplastics. This mf was eating macroplastics."

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

The Bronx Zoo has just released Flaco's necropsy results.

He was not thriving, as the people championing the ideal of "freedom" claimed.

He was poisoned.

He was sick.

He was suffering.

"Freedom" would have eventually killed him. A building just happened to do it first.

"Postmortem testing has been completed for Flaco, the Eurasian eagle owl that was found down in the courtyard of a Manhattan building a little over a year after his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo was vandalized on February 2, 2023. Onlookers reported that Flaco had flown into a building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on February 23, 2024, and acute trauma was found at necropsy. Bronx Zoo veterinary pathologists determined that in addition to the traumatic injuries, Flaco had two significant underlying conditions. He had a severe pigeon herpesvirus from eating feral pigeons that had become part of his diet, and exposure to four different anticoagulant rodenticides that are commonly used for rat control in New York City. These factors would have been debilitating and ultimately fatal, even without a traumatic injury, and may have predisposed him to flying into or falling from the building. The identified herpesvirus can be carried by healthy pigeons but may cause fatal disease in birds of prey including owls infected by eating pigeons. This virus has been previously found in New York City pigeons and owls. In Flaco’s case, the viral infection caused severe tissue damage and inflammation in many organs, including the spleen, liver, gastrointestinal tract, bone marrow, and brain.   No other contributing factors were identified through the extensive testing that was performed. Flaco’s severe illness and death are ultimately attributed to a combination of factors—infectious disease, toxin exposures, and traumatic injuries—that underscore the hazards faced by wild birds, especially in an urban setting."

The naturalistic fallacy kills animals in horrible ways. The romanticism of what humans want to think of as a "free, wild, pure life" cannot be allowed supplant the reality of injury, sickness, and death. Releasing captive animals (or keeping them from being recaptured) because it's "better" for them to suffer untethered than live a healthy, safe, captive life is inhumane and horrific.

Flaco's life didn't have to end in pain, sickness, and suffering.

Flaco's death didn't have to be tragic.

But once the idea of "freedom" entered the chat, Flaco's fate was unavoidable.

[neverendingford]

.

[detectivewoof-a]

Not much has changed in the short time Silas has been in human form around Manny — He’s still quiet and skittish. Always nearby Manny but staying just slightly out of arms reach. The only change, as small as it was? Silas stares, with borderline puppy dog eyes, whenever Manny has any sort of food or makes a move toward the kitchen. / (local forest goblin trying to 🥺 his way into snacks every 5 minutes)

Suddenly not throwing out the dog bed seemed great when he didn’t have any idea of what kind of sleeping situation the kid might be better used to like this.

“Y’ don’t want this, kiddo. You’re not gonna like it.” He held up the angry red looking chili for emphasis. For a brief moment, Manny wondered what the senses situation was like, even the smell that he could pick up on from the chili was a bit dizzying but it was a favorite for what he was currently making. Or… trying to, anyways, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let Silas touch anything spicy. “If you’re really that hungry—”

A short pause was given to go through what little there was in the fridge before he pulled out the other half of a torta he had. “You can have it.”

[osachiyo]

" LEMME HIT YOU WITH THAT DUMB DICK ! "

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, jouno (+ tecchou), oda, sigma x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — [n]sfw content, somnophilia, these are random scenarios ok don't come at me, degradation, humiliation, doggystyle, rough, getting caught, pussy slapping, s.ex at work, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected s.ex (be careful babes), praise, creampie + etc • this was originally supposed to be their fav places to fuck but i had to scrap that bc i lost motivation :') anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread soz babes

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

⁰¹ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — fucking you in a storage room of the agency

This man is a sex fiend, so of course he would love to fuck you literally anywhere anytime. Though he can't lie, being balls deep in your juicy little cunt at work — risking both of your dignities and possibly your jobs has him harder than a fucking rock.

"Osamu— what if we g-get caugh— mmh-!" you let out a muffled moan as dazai delivered a particularly harsh thrust into your cunt, effectively shutting you up. "Relaaaax, sweet thing — almost no one c-comes here — fuck, you're so damn tight," Dazai panted into your ear, hot breath making a chill run down your spine — back arching even further against his chest.

"God, you're so good f'me — so warm 'n right, fuck!" each word was rushed, dripping with lust — the desperation in his voice made you wanna look at his pretty face, pussy clenching just from imagining how good he'd look with his hair disheveled — his usual doe eyes narrowed and a deep blush covering his skin, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his hair stick to his forehead —

Your train of thought got cut off abruptly when Dazai slapped his hand over your mouth, before his hushed voice reached your ears, "shh, stay still f'me, sweetheart."

You were about to question it when you heard the president's voice from just behind the door. The door of the room you were currently getting your back blown out in.

"Yes, I keep hearing strange noises from this one room in particular," you heard fukuzawa's muffled voice — the thought of your boss catching you in the act made your pussy flutter around Dazai’s length, making the brunette grunt in response.

"Are you trying to get us caught, darl'?" Dazai hissed into your ear — oops, you unintentionally clenched down again upon hearing the keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily Dazai was ready for it this time, and managed to bite down on your shoulder before he could get a sound out.

"W-what do we do, 'samu? He’s gonna come in!" you whisper-yelled, panic settling in your bones when you saw the doorknob rattle — but before he could unlock the door fully, you heard the high pitched voice of another worker, "president! an important client has come to personally see you."

"Hm, alright. looks like i'll have to tell someone else to take a look in this room later. Let’s go,"

You let out a breath of relief once the footsteps faded away, leaving you both in complete silence until dazai decided to speak up —

"You clenched reaaal hard when he was about to open the door — don't tell me you actually wanted us to get caught, did you, naughty girl?"

⁰² 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 — having you suck him off in his office

Chuuya's job as an executive of the mafia is stressful, to say the least. Not to mention some of the idiotic workers not doing their job right never fails to make his blood pressure go especially high — his anger issues doesn't help his case at all. But what does help is his sweet sweet girlfriend giving him some... 'under the table service' at work.

Chuuya's fist slammed against the hardwood desk, a loud 'thwack!' echoing in the room,

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he sneered at the poor man in front of him — who couldn't help but flinch at seeing his boss so angry at him failing to complete a simple report.

Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t really that mad at the worker, for the report at least — he was just.. super on edge from you deep-throating his cock under the goddamn table. He struggled to think properly, and the poor worker interrupting his private moment with you really ticked him off. Can you really blame him though?

How could he think straight with your skilled tongue swirling around his glossy tip so sinfully — fucking tease. Oh and the way you peered up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

It all made his head spin like crazy.

“-ir, I can re-do it if you would like me to..” Chuuya’s train of thought unfortunate got cut off short, blue eyes snapping back to the man before him — right, the report.

“A-ahem — alright. Have it finished by 6 pm.”

Chuuya hated the way his voice cracked, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried not to moan out loud when you fully took him nose deep in that right, sweet little throat— shamelessly rutting your hips into his crazy expensive slacks, rubbing your juices all over the smooth, polished material.

You felt Chuuya’s fingers entangle themselves in your hair immediately after hearing the ‘click’ of the door shutting — the guy must’ve finally left.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you were pulled up from the cold, hard floor — and being shoved onto the desk instead.

You felt your pussy throb in your lacy panties as Chuuya spread your legs open — two fingers pressing and prodding at your cunt before sliding the flimsy material to the side,

“Now, let’s get into the real fun, shall we darl’?”

⁰³ 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 — teaching tecchou how to eat you out properly

Jouno was a good friend. Even though he might've had a tendency to be a little harsh and.. sadistic at times, he wasn't a bad person. I mean, he had to be atleast a decent person for teaching his inexperienced co-worker how to eat pussy — specifically, his own girlfriend's.

"No, not like that you fucking idiot —" Jouno grumbled, pulling Tecchou's head off of your cunt as he blinked in confusion like a lost puppy, sticky strings of your arousal still attached to his lips. "What do you mean? She's clearly enjoying it.."

"I mean that you can do better. You do want to make her feel fuckin' amazing, don't you?" Jouno raised a questioning brow. "Well, of cour—" "Then start acting like it."

A gasp left your honeyed lips when Tecchou's face was pushed back against your cunt — hot tongue working with even more fervor as he ate you out like he had been starving for days.

"Oh fuck — feels so g-good, sai," you whimpered out — head thrown back and your tongue threatening to loll out from the sheer pleasure the man between your legs was giving you. "Yeah, baby? Feels good when Tecchou eats that sweet cunt out reaaaaal good, huh?" Jouno's tone was condescending — his lips curled up into a cocky smirk.

“Y’smell so sweet - taste so sweet -” Tecchou's voice was low and dripping with need — your pussy throbbed from just how desperate he sounded.

"A-ah shit - can feel you throbbin' on my tongue, princess —" he groaned, tongue flattening against your clit as he shook his head side to side.

You babbled out Jouno’s name like a prayer — all while the man between your legs worshipped your cunt like it was his god, pink tongue repeatedly flicking your clit, making you see stars as your hole stretched around two of his slim fingers.

“Please — wanna c-cum s’ba- mmh!- ,” you let out a strangled noise as a harsh slap landed on your soaked pussy, clit throbbing as you threw your head back once more. “Fuckin’ slut, so damn eager to cum on another man’s tongue in front of your boyfriend, hmm?”

“Don’t — ah fuck, squeezin’ so tight ‘round my fingers, baby - don’t be so mean, Jouno,” Tecchou threw a side glare to the man next to him, which only earned a shrug from said man, “quit talking and enjoy the meal, dumbass. She’s close.”

And enjoy the meal he did — lapping up every single drop of your sweet juices so enthusiastically you’d think that he hadn’t eaten in days.

⁰⁴ 𝐎𝐃𝐀 — morning sex with him

Mornings with your husband, Oda Sakunosuke, were sweet, blissful and filled with love. Sometimes he'd surprise you with breakfast in bed, it's the least he can do considering everything that you do for him, is what he says. But sometimes — you crave him instead of the delicious food.

“My pretty girl,” Oda smiled sleepily, moving some of your hair out of your face to admire your effortless beauty — blissfully unaware to how his deep morning voice made your heart flutter in your chest, and your pussy throb with need.

You grinned back, scooting closer into his arms as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, “pretty enough to fuck?”

Oda raised a questioning eyebrow, full lips curling into a grin, "oh? that's the game we're playing, love?" Strong arms wrapped around your bare figure, the marks of last night still fresh on your skin — a reminder to how he fucked you dumb on his cock only a few hours prior.

You felt your face burn from the memories of last night rushing back into you — god, you two were insatiable - you're sure Oda fucked you in every single position in the book, and it did nothing but make you crave him more.

"Still with me, darling?" he lightly tapped your cheek, snapping you back to the present. You nodded, a gasp falling from your lips as big, calloused hands found themselves groping at your tits, pinching at your cute nipples as he pressed open mouthed kisses on your neck — his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

"O-oda—"

"shhh, baby — lemme do all the work, yeah?"

And that's how you ended up with your face pressed into the pillows — silken bedsheets tangled around your bodies as Oda fucked his fat girth into your sopping cunt nice 'n deep.

A large hand was pressing your back into the meanest arch ever — strong hips slamming against the fat of your plush ass with each deep thrust, thick mushroom tip prodding at your g-spot - making you bleat out your husband's name pitifully. Oda only pushed your head deeper into the soft pillows — clearly too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

He watched his cock slipped in and out of your pussy so easily — your slick covering his balls down to his thighs. Oda groaned deeply in his throat as he watched a creamy ring form around the base of his cock — your cunt sucking him in so eagerly that he almost thought it hurt for you to let him go.

You let out a particularly loud moan as Oda's cock hit that one spot in you — you could only bite down on the pillow as your eyes shut closed, pussy slobbering shamelessly all over his length.

"Oh? Did you like— argh! - t-that spot, sweet girl?"

⁰⁵ 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 — fucking you in your sleep

Sigma was a busy man — with running the sky casino and being part of the decay of angels didn't leave too much alone time with just him and you — especially for some.. intimacy. You knew he needed to relieve himself someway — all that workload while being pent up as fuck certainly wasn't good for him. Plus, you have been craving him as well.. so you came up with an easy solution.

The door to your shared bedroom clicked open — your beloved boyfriend, Sigma, letting himself in as his eyes racked over the entire room, searching for anything out of the ordinary — you did tell him that you had a surprise for him, after all.

Upon finding nothing, he stalked over to the bed, confusion lacing his features as he glanced over at your sleeping form. Slender hands slowly slipped the soft blanket off of you and oh —

It all clicked suddenly.

The lavender coloured lace suited your complexion so perfectly, the expensive material hugging your features like it was made for you. Sigma gulped, eyes fixating on the way your tits were practically spilling out of the flimsy fabric — your stiff nipples very much visible to his hungry gaze.

It wasn't long before he had his face buried between your plush thighs — Sigma was so desperate, not even bothering to take the lingerie off your body. Besides, why would he when you just looked way too good in it?

He was practically eating you out through the thin lace — nose bumping against your clothed clit as his tongue tried to push deeper into your cunt. You had him in a chokehold — but he couldn't care less.

Sigma's slim hips were rutting into the expensive sheets — precum leaking from his sensitive tip as he tried his best not to cum untouched just from tasting your sweet pussy, but fuck, you were making it so hard for him.

He felt his cock throb in his pants when you started letting out soft moans and sighs in your sleep — or were you even asleep anymore? He didn't know and neither did he care — mind too focused on making you cum on his pretty face.

"ohh s-shit — best surprise - sluurrp - e-ever—" he whined into your cunt, spitting directly into your sticky hole before slurping it all back up.

Safe to say, he definitely enjoyed your little surprise.

© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !

[literaturepublishersjournal]

Orthopedic Case Reports Journal

Orthopedic Case Reports Journal publishes case reports in Orthopaedics, images in Orthopaedics journal, imaging in Orthopaedics journal, case reports in bone journal, case reports in paediatric Orthopaedics, case reports in Orthopaedics surgery journal etc. 

Orthopaedics is a medical and surgical specialty that is concerned with the correction of deformities or functional impairments of the skeletal system, particularly the spine and its associated structure, ligaments and muscles. Orthopaedic surgeons employ both surgical and nonsurgical interventions for treating their patients. Disease conditions related to musculoskeletal trauma, sports injuries, spinal disorders and injuries, infections, congenital disorders, and tumours are covered under Orthopaedic research.

Clinical Research on Foot & Ankle

Clinical Research on Foot & Ankle: The Journal of Clinical Research on Foot & Ankle is the leading source for original, clinically-focused articles on the surgical and medical management of the foot and ankle. The approach is broad and includes all aspects of the subject from basic science to clinical management. Its purpose is to provide a quality journal to further promote education and research in foot and ankle medicine and surgery.

Clinical Practice (Therapy)

Clinical Practice (Therapy): Orthopedic Case Reports Journal is an open access, peer reviewed scholarly journal that provides an open platform for the worldwide dissemination of original and novel scientific manuscripts based on the various aspects of the adept practical approaches to disease management. 

The journal prioritises the publication of manuscripts that can provide useful insights into the real time efficacy and persisting lacunae in the various principles, tools and techniques involved in the diagnosis and treatment of acute and chronic diseases. The journal acts as a bridge between the medical community and the general population by dispersing scientific advancements in medical and clinical research and manuscripts that highlight how these research advancements can change the currently followed medical procedures.   

Related Journals:  Clinical Data Management. Clinical Research Management, Medical Research Journals, Journal of Medical Science and Clinical Research, Biological and Medical Research, Medical Laboratory, Orthopedic Case Reports Journal, Medical Research Laboratory, Medical Laboratory Techniques, Medicine international Journal, Clinical Laboratory Journal, Clinical Laboratory and Hematology, Clinical Research Laboratories, Journal of Clinical Study, Journal of Clinical Investigation, Clinical Research Database, Clinical Research Database Management, Clinical Research in USA, Journal of Clinical Medicine Research, Journal of International Medicine, Laboratory Journals, Clinical Laboratory Medicine Journals, Journal of Medical Laboratory Science, Laboratory Medicine Journals

Clinical Investigation: Clinical Investigation journal is an open access, peer reviewed journal that provides an open platform for novel scientific manuscripts based on various aspects of clinical studies throughout the world. Clinical investigation journal play a major key role in documenting latest innovations in the field of clinical research area, as it includes clinical trials reports, clinical drug development, safety and effectiveness of medications, diagnostic products, Clinical Trial phase I-IV findings and other related topics of clinical studies.

Journal of Pain & Relief

Journal of Pain & Relief: Pain & Relief covers information regarding types of distressing symptoms like highly unpleasant physical sensation during treatment and healing. Journal of Pain & Relief is a peer reviewed, open access periodical which disseminates scientific information among the medical scientists and researchers in the relevant areas. The journal considers a wide range of topics in the realm of medical sciences which includes but not limited to: Acupuncture, Acute Pain, Anesthesia, Chronic Back Pain, Chronic Pain, Hypnosis, Low Back Pain, Meditation, Nociceptive Pain, Opioid, Orthopedics, Pain killer drugs, Pain Medication, Post-Operative Pain, Reaction to Pain.

Related Journals: Pain Medicine, Pain Management, Pain Medicine Journal, Pain Management Journals, Journal of Pain & Symptom Management, Journal of Pain Management, European Journal of Anesthesiology, Open Pain Journal, Journal of opioid Management, Chronic Pain Management

Journal of Clinical & Experimental Pathology

Journal of Clinical & Experimental Pathology: Journal of Clinical & Experimental Pathology involves with Clinical/medical biology it is concerned with diagnosis parameter of diseases based on analysis of body fluids such as blood, urine. Which also requires some tools of chemistry, microbiology, hematology, and molecular pathology, Experimental pathology is process of microscopic or molecular examination of organs. So this journal mainly focuses on Drugs developed through experiments, case reports, and new innovations in the field of pathology. Journal of Clinical & Experimental Pathology is an open access journal, selected abstracts would be published in this journal.

Related Journals: Pathology Journals, best open access journal, Journals in pathology, Journals of pathology, Clinical pathology, Anatomic pathology, impact factor of pathology journals, British Journal of Pathology, Australian Journal of Pathology, European Journal of Pathology, American Journal of Clinical Pathology

Archives of Medicine

Archives of Medicine: Archives of Medicine is a peer-reviewed, open access journal which provide authors an established, trusted platform for the publication of their work. The journal publishes original research articles, review articles, clinical studies, theories and policies related the academic discipline of medicine and primary care in all areas of medicine. It aims to provide practical up-to-date information in significant research from all subspecialties of medicine. 

Related Journals: Complementary Medicine, Vascular Disease, Diabetic Medicine, Anti-Cancer Drugs, Cardiovascular Toxicology, Emergency Medical Services, Endocrine Oncology, Child Healthcare, Gynecology & Obstetrics, Infectious Diseases, Neurourology, Hepatology, Mental Disorders, Psychological Disorders, Dentistry, Surgical Anesthesia, Molecular Epidemiology, Cancer Therapies, Tropical Medicine and Health, Alzheimer's Disease

Universal Surgery

Universal Surgery: Journal of Universal Surgery is an indexed peer reviewed internationally reputed medical journal. This scholarly Open Access journal aims at exploring new, relevant, and the most compelling developments in the field of Surgery. Journal of Universal Surgery is the best scientific journal that provides a good platform for researchers to publish their valuable work in the mode of research, review articles, case reports, commentaries, short communications, etc. 

Journal Highlights includes: Laparoscopic Surgery, Gallbladder Surgery, Arthroscopic Knee, Scoliosis Surgery, Sinus Surgery, Oral Surgery, Gynecomastia Surgery, Orthognathic Surgery, Thyroid Surgery, Pacemaker Surgery, Appendix Surgery, Endometriosis Surgery, Colorectal Surgery, Open Heart Surgery, Glaucoma Surgery, Hip Surgery, Hysterectomy Surgery, Neck Surgery, Hydrocele Surgery, Ankle Surgery, Outpatient Surgery

Research & Reviews: Journal of Medical and Health Sciences

Research & Reviews: Journal of Medical and Health Sciences: Medical and Health Sciences is an International journal, publishes quarterly (Electronic and Print version) on the aspect of Medical and Health Sciences for an effective scientific reading and public view with an aim to reach the worldwide researchers. It is an open-access journal that aims to serve authors and readers (scientists as well as general masses) by providing them an easy and reliable source of knowledge.

Related Journals: Medical and Health Science Journal, International Journal of Medical and Health Sciences, International Journal of Medical Research & Health Sciences, Innovative Journal of Medical and Health Science, Annals of Medical and Health Sciences Research, Archives of Medicine and Health Sciences, International Journal of Health Sciences and Research, Health Science Journal, Journal of Medical Sciences and Health, International Journal of Innovative Medicine and Health Science, International Journal of Healthcare Sciences, International Journal of Health Sciences, Journal of Sport and Health Science, Current Health Sciences Journal, Medicine and health sciences, International Journal of Medical and Health Research, Journal of Research in Health Sciences, Global Journal of Health Science, Advances in Health Sciences Education, Science Journal of Public Health

Journal of Orthopaedic Oncology

Journal of Orthopaedic Oncology: Journal of Orthopaedic oncology provides a flexible platform for the authors to contribute their research work towards the journal and the editorial office promises a peer review process for the submitted manuscripts for the quality of publishing. For the Publication of the article in this journal peer-review process, at least two independent reviewer’s approval followed by editor approval is required. To maintain the quality in the review process there is an Editorial Manager System, Authors may submit manuscripts and track their progress through the system.

Authors can submit their manuscripts through the journal's online submission portal and For more information on Literature Publishers - orthopedic surgery case reports visit our site:- 

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[oxfordpublishers]

Journal of Bone and Joint Diseases Case Reports published Case Reports in Joint Bone Spine, Case Reports in Bone Joint Surgery, Case Reports of Bone Disorders, Case Series of Bone Diseases, Clinical Image in Bone and Joint Diseases, Journal of Bone and Joint Diseases etc. Bone and Joints such as wrists, shoulders, knees, ankles and finger joints allow your body to move with ease.

[springtyme]

Hi love! I'm not feeling good and have been kinda down so I was wondering if you could write a sweet spencer x fem reader where she's usually the tough one but she goes through a loss and he finds her crying alone in the dark in the office and just comforts her

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 ♡

Thank you for the request, hun <3 I'm so sorry to hear that you are feeling down. I hope some Spencer comfort might help a little <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: It is not unusual for Spencer to stay late at the office. What is unusual, however, is finding you crying in the conference room.

word count: 2.4k

warnings/tags: Hurt/comfort. Grief and mourning. Loss of a family member. Spencer being the sweetest. Mutual pining.

The dim glow of the office lights flicker softly in the nearly empty room, casting long shadows that dance against the walls. It is late, far past the hour when most of the BAU team had called it a night. The constant hum and buzz that usually fills the air of the bullpen has faded into a profound silence, leaving only the delicate, rhythmic sound of paper rustling everytime Spencer turns a page of the pile of reports in front of him. 

It is not unusual that he stays late to finish his work; in fact, it has become somewhat of a routine, maybe not the most healthy one, but he cherishes the quiet of the after-hours; it is a time when he can think without the distractions of the day, his thought pattern getting the opportunity to fully unfold with uninterrupted clarity. 

He stretches his long limbs, feeling the fatigue settle into his bones as he takes a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of stale coffee, and the lingering smell of old paper.

As he leans back in his chair, his gaze lands on the clock on the wall, its clock hands ticking steadily, the sound echoing in the emptiness. It’s late, and he knows he should call it a night, but there’s a stubborn part of him that clings to the work. He eyes the stack of reports one more time, each file holding the remnants of cases that had left their mark on him—cases that never truly leave him, echoing in his mind long after the team has moved on.

The clock ticks monotonously, each passing second weighing heavily upon him. Pushing away from the desk, he stands up, stretching again to relieve the tension that has built in his shoulders. He should really call it a night. He begins packing up his things, methodically sliding reports into a neat pile and shutting down his computer. The soft whirring of the cooling fan fades into silence as the screen goes dark, mirroring the dim ambiance of the office. He tosses his pen into the collection of writing utensils, a small victory for tidiness amidst the chaos of his thoughts.   

With a deep sigh, he slings his messenger bag over one shoulder, the slight squeak of the rubber soles of his sneakers on the polished floor the only sound in the quiet office as he leaves the bullpen. The silence envelops him, the weight of solitude pressing in from all sides as he walks through the dark, empty building.  As he makes his way past the break room, he considers stopping for one last cup of coffee before his drive home, even though he fully knows that what his body doesn’t need right now is more caffeine. What he needs is sleep, and a reprieve from the steady hum of his thoughts. But his change for a somewhat decent sleep this night has long passed.

But his internal debate about the pros and cons of indulging in his coffee craving comes to a full stop as he walks past the conference room. The door is slightly ajar, and a faint light spills out into the dark hallway, accompanied with a faint sound—a soft, muffled whimper. 

Spencer’s heart tightens in his chest at the sound as he instinctively makes his way toward the door. Pushing it open cautiously, he peeks inside, his breath catching in his throat at the scene before him. The sight that greets him tugs painfully at his heart—it’s you, sitting on the cold floor of the conference room, shoulders shaking with hushed sobs, your usually strong demeanor momentarily shattered to pieces.

You, the one who always has the right answer, the sharpest wit, and a comforting strength that seems to radiate outwards, are curled up in the corner, your back against the wall, knees drawn up to your chest and your face half hidden in your hands, tears silently tracing paths down your cheek. The usually composed agent, known for your bravery and unbreakable spirit, now lost and broken. It pierce through him like a knife.

He remembers how you had arrived at the BAU two years ago with a fierce determination, melding graceful resilience with an unyielding strength that never fails to inspire those around you. Whether confronting hard truths or providing support to your teammates, you are always a pillar of strength—invincible in the face of adversity. It was something Spencer couldn’t help but deeply admire, and as he has gotten to know you over the last two years, he finds himself constantly drawn to and captivated by that strength as well as your kindness. 

He approaches cautiously, his heart twisting with a painful empathy. The sight of you right now is such a stark contrast to the strong, independent woman he’s come to know, and despite his slightly reserved nature and the hesitant fear of intruding, he feels a strong surge of protectiveness as he watches you now. 

He says your name softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him to give you a semblance of privacy. “Hey…” His voice is gentle, barely above a whisper, infused with a mix of concern and warmth. He takes a step closer, his heart aching as he watches you react to his voice—your head snaps up, wide eyes red-rimmed and swollen, a stark contrast to your usual bright gaze. 

For a short moment you’re just frozen, like a deer caught in headlights, your gaze searching his face, grappling with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability. It’s a moment poised on the knife's edge, and Spencer holds his breath, afraid to disrupt the fragile atmosphere.

Then you blink rapidly, and wipe hastily at your cheeks, trying to regain your composure and to erase any trace of your tears, but the effort only makes it worse, as if the floodgates threaten to open wide once more—the walls have come crashing down, and he can see the vulnerability you usually keep so well-hidden.

He takes another cautious step closer, the distance between you suddenly feeling impossibly vast, despite the small space of the room. “Can I sit?” he asks gently, indicating the floor beside you. You nod slightly, and he settles onto the cool surface, instinctively mirroring your posture. The silence drapes between you like a thin veil, both comforting and heavy. He doesn’t rush you; there is an unspoken understanding that you need this space to gather your thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally offers, his voice softening into a whisper as he looks into your eyes, searching for an answer, however small. Your gaze drifts, focusing on the ground between you, words trapped beneath the weight of your sorrow.

“I—” you start, but the words crumple like dried leaves in your throat, too fragile to escape. You take a sharp breath, the air trembling slightly as it fills your lungs. The vulnerability in your eyes pulls at him, deepening the ache in his chest, and he feels an overwhelming urge to reach out—to comfort you, to tell you that it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. “I lost someone,” you finally manage to whisper, your voice trembling with the depth of your pain. The admission hangs in the air, heavy and tangible, as Spencer processes your words, his heart sinking in solidarity. 

“My aunt—she was the one who raised me after…” You pause, your voice quivering, unable to continue. “She was my everything.”

Spencer’s brow furrows, understanding flooding his features. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs softly.  “That must be so hard.”

You nod slowly, tears spilling once more, but they feel different now. They aren’t just tears of sorrow; they’re also tears of release. “I thought I was strong enough to handle it, but… I don’t know,” you choke out, words mixing with your quiet sobs. You wipe at your cheeks, but it only seems to make it worse. “I thought I could be there for everyone else, but now… I feel so lost.”

Spencer glances down, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He knows all too well that grief can shape-shift the toughest person into someone fragile, and he admires your bravery more than he can express. “You don’t have to be strong right now,” he offers gently. “It’s okay to feel lost. Grief… it isn’t something that can be carried alone. It’s… it’s a process.”

You look at him. Spencer feels the weight of your gaze, your eyes searching his with a mix of relief and uncertainty. His heart swells with a desire to be there for you, to provide whatever comfort he can in this moment of vulnerability. Something about your anguish makes him want to wrap you in his arms and shield you from the pain. Spencer shifts closer, an instinctive act of solidarity. “Can I?” he asks, hesitating as he gently rests a hand on your back, his touch light but reassuring. Without any hesitation, you lean into him. 

Spencer feels the warmth of your presence as you lean against him, the soft weight of your body a tangible confirmation that you’re letting him in—allowing him to share in your pain, and comfort you. He is not the most used to physical contact like this, but he can’t help but think it is nice at this moment, even though it feels like a pretty selfish thought right now. He just feels an overwhelming sense of purpose wash over him.  

As you lean into him, Spencer feels an incredible gravity, both weighty and reliving as you let yourself breakdown in his arms. The scent of your hair, hair, something soft and familiar, fills his senses, grounding him in this moment. For a while, there is only the sound of your quiet sobs. He simply sits with you, holding you, letting you grieve and waits till you are ready to speak again. He can feel the shudders of your breath against his side as your sobs slowly begin to cease. 

You let out a shaky breath, a sound that lingers between vulnerability and relief. “I don’t know how to navigate this… I feel like I’m drowning,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, yet so filled with longing for understanding. “I just feel so lost.”

Spencer nods slowly, letting your words settle between you. “You’re not alone in this,” he reassures you softly, leaning slightly closer. “It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to feel lost.” He pauses, looking into your eyes with sincerity. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for anyone, least of all for me. I feel lost all the time.”

“How do you get through it?” you question, your voice quavering with a sense of seeking. Your vulnerability is evident, and Spencer takes a moment, considering your question as he searches for the right words. 

“I let myself be sad,” he finally replies softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret. It’s not a profound revelation, but it’s the truth. 

“I guess I’m just so used to being the anchor for everyone else, you know?” you whisper, lifting your chin slightly to meet his gaze. “And I miss her, Spence. I miss her so much. She was my anchor.”

Spencer feels the weight of your words press heavily against his heart, he holds you a little tighter again. Your pain resonates within him. Silence envelops you both, as you take a deep breath, letting your conversation and stillness of the room resonate around you.

“What was she like? Your aunt?” Spencer’s voice finally breaks the silence. 

“She was… everything,” you say. “Always the one with a joke to lighten the mood, a listening ear no matter how busy life got. Even when things were tough, she always managed to find a silver lining. And she was so strong, and so smart. She was the toughest, most resilient, yet the most gentle and kindest person I’ve ever known.” Your voice has restored some of its usual strength and spark as you talk about her.

“She sounds just like you,” Spencer says softly, a small, encouraging smile tugging at his lips.

You glance up at him, the corner of your mouth faintly lifting too. “She always said that strength isn’t just about being tough—it’s about knowing when to lean on others,” you express, your voice steadier now as memories of your aunt, filled with warmth and love, wash over you. “I wish I’d listened more when she said that.”

Spencer nods thoughtfully, absorbing your words as they hang in the air. The soft light spills around you, illuminating the moment as you share this piece of yourself—your pain and love for someone who shaped who you are. 

A bittersweet yet comfortable silence falls between you. Spencer shifts, adjusting his position, still holding you, as if creating an invisible barrier against the darkness outside the room that feels so vast and all-consuming.

You lean against him a little more, finding solace in his presence. “Thank you,” you softly say. 

“For what?”

“For being you, for being here. You mean a lot to me, you know…” 

Spencer can’t help but feel a warmth enveloping his chest at your words; he wishes he could always be that presence of comfort in your life. “You mean a lot to me too,” he adds, vulnerability threading through his otherwise composed demeanor. “And I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Your gaze meets his again, and in the depths of your eyes—filled with remnants of pain mixed with newfound understanding—he sees the cracks beginning to heal. “Thank you, Spence.”

The two of you sit in that intimate silence for a while longer, until finally, he checks the clock again. “It’s late.”

You nod.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Spencer offers softly. 

You take a second to contemplate his offer, Spencer can guess your considerations about his offer, the logistics of you not having your car to drive to work tomorrow, but Spencer doesn’t mind getting up earlier tomorrow to swing by your place and drive together. Eventually, you nod again, this time with a sense of quiet gratitude radiating from you.

 “That would be nice.” You agree, your voice still soft, but steadier than before. A weak, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him and Spencer feels how a rush of warmth bloom in his chest.

Thank you for reading <3 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[bubblegumgothglados]

This is my RACK focused judgment free primer for heavy impact play. It covers every part of the body from head to toe and at no point does it say you can’t do something just the risks of doing so. I don't normally put warnings on my posts but most of my writing is fantasy, this isn't. I'm going to talk about any number of painful deaths and heaps more ways of becoming disabled.

In this primer "you" means the one doing the hitting, "victim" is the one being hit, and "tool" is the thing you're hitting with which could be a fist, foot, hammer, bat, anything. I'm writing it this way because its fun for me.

This primer also assumes you know the different types of impacts and how they affect the body, if you don't go look at my other writings.

Finally i take no responsibility for anything you do. All this information is what i could put together from medical journals and car crash reports if I've got anything wrong (and you can prove it) please let me know.

Enjoy

Head. With hits to the head, the two major concerns are concussions and neck injuries. A concussion occurs when a person’s brain impacts with the inside of their skull, this happens because the brain is suspended in fluid so if the skull stops or starts moving suddenly the brain will move out of sync with the skull. Symptoms of concussions can include headaches, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, and excessive fatigue. If your victim lost consciousness for any length of time and is having trouble speaking or understanding your words, you need to get them to the ER. There is no cure for a concussion but the best treatment is pain medication and activities that won’t tax the brain to give it time to recover. There are any number of ways to damage a neck, but generally it happens when a person’s neck is moved suddenly and violently or pushed past its limit. Minor injuries should heal by themselves within a few weeks but if unlucky pain and stiffness can last months or even years. For more major injuries, physical therapy or a neck brace might be necessary but only if the pain lasts longer than a few weeks. It’s also possible to hit someone hard enough to break their neck or fracture their skull but that takes a lot of force. All of these injuries can be avoided by supporting your victim’s head and neck by bracing their head against a surface or holding their head with your hand.

Jaw. It takes surprisingly little force to dislocate a jaw, you can do so with a good slap Dislocations are talked about in Note 3 at the bottom of this primer. Heavy bleeding from gums or a tooth that feels loose could indicate a fractured root. This is a fairly minor issue and if you see a dentist quickly they should be able to fix it back in place with no lasting damage. A tooth that has been knocked out completely should survive; get your victim to rinse their mouth out and rinse the tooth off and shove it back into the gap, and then have them see a dentist to make sure it’s properly seated and avoid chewing with it for a while.

Eyes. A fun combination of fragile and complicated. There's no first aid tips I can give you and it'll be real obvious if something is wrong. I will say you don't have to hit someones eye to give them a black eye, it’s bruising around the eye socket that matters. Also check Note 1 about the use of ice when treating injuries.

Nose. It’s more difficult than you think to break a nose. You definitely can with a good punch but you'll have to really commit. A broken nose isn't that serious (I've broken mine twice now) and isn't even ER worthy. If your victim is leaning backwards after breaking their nose the blood will run down the back of their throat potentially making them vomit or very sick. There is a chance a broken nose will heal in a way that restricts breathing in which case your victim may need surgery.

Cheek bone. Below the temple but above the gum line, running from just bellow their ear to their nose. Special mention to this spot because it’s the best place to hit your victim in the head (in my opinion). This piece of bone is very sturdy and not that risky to fracture. Plus, when you hit them here they have to watch it coming.

Neck. The windpipe, jugular, cranial nerves, vagus nerve, carotid arteries, and spine all live here and damage to any of these can cause permanent disability or death. Seek medical attention if your victim has trouble breathing or swallowing, or a lot of pain or swelling. Stingy tools are far less risky here than thuddy tools.

Shoulders. Note 2 on joints. The shoulder blades can either be an ideal impact location or one of the most risky depending on how it’s sitting. If the shoulder blade is jutting out away from the rest of the back, it’s very easy to damage If it’s laying flat against the back, it’s protected by a thick layer of fat and muscle.

Biceps. Top 4 impact location. The main concern is damaging the elbow and shoulder joints, if hitting in a way that will pull on those joints. Much like with the head, bracing the impact area against a surface will minimize the risk. Repeated hits to this area can temporarily disable the arm, which is fun.

Forearm. As above, the main risk is damaging the adjoining joints. There are also several important blood vessels and nerves running through this area and not a lot of fat an muscle to protect them.

Hands. Very little fat or muscle, mostly tendons, nerves, and cartilage. See Note 2 on joints. Special note to the palm, which hurts like hell but is relatively safe because of the extra muscle and fat in that area, great for punishment. Once again, stingy tools are much less risky than thuddy tools.

Breasts/ biceps. Top 4 impact locations. Thick layers of fat, muscle, and bone protect anything vital.

Sternum. That is the bone running down the center of a person’s chest that connects to their ribs. Not in itself very fragile but the cartilage that connects it to the ribs is easily damaged and will take a long time to heal. A fractured sternum will likely cause shortness of breath and pain when taking deep breaths. There's not much to be done about these injuries just rest and avoiding strenuous activity.

Spine. The single most risky impact location. Any damage to the spine risks permanent paralysis of everything below that point. As ever, stingy tools present less risk than thuddy tools.

Rib cage. Designed to protect a person’s most vital organs, the rib cage is very strong. Fractured ribs will cause pain breathing but aren't particularly serious. Snapped ribs can pierce organs If this happens, it'll be immediately obvious and medical intervention is required to prevent painful death. Special note to the 'floating' ribs at the bottom of a persons rib cage which don't connect to the sternum and are therefore much less resilient. Second special note to the spot right above a persons heart. A significantly hard impact at exactly the wrong moment in their cardiac cycle can stop their heart. They will loose consciousness and you will need to give them CPR until they can be defibrillated. This is ridiculously unlikely but better to mention just in case.

Abdomen. If you feel around your victim’s belly, you can figure out the line where their abdominal muscles sit. If you have them tense these muscles, you can hit them fairly hard with relatively little risk because the muscles plus the fat in that area create a thick layer of protection. (Pro tip: "Stay tense or this will might kill you" is not only true but hot and terrifying). Outside of that area or if they don't tense, there's real risk of bruising or even rupturing their intestines, which carries a 50-70% survival rate depending on how quickly you can get them to the ER. Symptoms to look out for are bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. Special note to the kidneys, which sit next to the backbone just below the rib cage and are very easily bruised. The primary symptom to look for is blood when peeing. As always, stingy tools carry less risk than thuddy tools.

Gluteus maximus. That's their butt. Hit it as hard as your victim will let you. Enough has been said about this region; I don't feel the need to recover that ground. Note 4 on bruises.

Genitals. I'm not going to get into CBT, that's a separate kink. But the vagina is very durable as it’s pretty much just flesh and fat on the outside Minimal risk, go to town.

Thigh. Top 4 impact location. Outer thigh will hurt more and bruise more. As with the head and arms, the primary risk is damaging the adjoining joints. Note 4 on bruises because this is the primary place for DVT.

Calf. As above. Shins are also a great location for punishment because they hurt like hell.

Feet. Very similar to hands. The soles of a person’s foot are intended to impact with the ground frequently and with some force, so they can take a fair bit of punishment.

Note 1. Ice. It is no longer suggested injury procedure to use ice to reduce swelling. Yes, it is effective at reducing swelling but we now understand swelling is an important part of the healing process and although ice might make it feel and look better in the short term, it actually increases the amount of time the injury will take to heal. You want the blood to be able to flow to the injury to take away dead cells and bring nutrients and energy.

Note 2. Joints. Neck, spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and toes. The reason these are almost always labeled "red" or "no go" on impact play body maps is because these are choke points for blood vessels and nerves; they are made of fragile tendons and cartilage, and they have very little padding for protection. They're also important for movement day to day and very difficult to heal properly. If a joint is damaged, you can buy braces for every joint from most pharmacies.

Note 3. Dislocations. If you're lucky, a partial dislocation will relocate by itself if you move the joint around as you normally would, not forcing it or trying to manipulate it with your hand, just moving it with its own muscles. If it does naturally relocate but you still have pain a few weeks later seek a medical professional. If you're unlucky or if it’s a total dislocation, you will have to see a medical professional. DO NOT TRY TO FORCE IT BACK INTO PLACE!

Note 4. Bruises. Normally, bruises are nothing to worry about but there are situations where a deep bruise can be a health concern. If the bruise continues to get worse after a week, there could be a hematoma under the skin, which is like a blood clot, and might need to be removed. The other possible complication is Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot and can be lethal, if not treated quickly. With DVT, the symptoms are tenderness, warmth, and a "pulling sensation" which are pretty normal impact play symptoms. But if you're doing impact play at the level that could cause DVT, then you and your victim should know their healing process intimately, so if something feels off or isn't healing right, get them to a medical professional; better safe than dead.

[chrisdr3]

"Ignorant" ~ OP81

Fluff

Oscar x Introvert!Reader

Summary: Y/n gets hateful comments about her appearance and for being "ignorant", whilst Oscar tries to understand what's going on with her feelings.

You never really liked to talk much, you always were shy and tended to hide your emotions. You were more on the introverted side, like Oscar. When you were together, Oscar did most of the talking, especially when you were infront of fans, reporters and team members unknown to you.

That's the main reason the hate started. Most of it, at least. Every day, you were recieving hateful messages and comments on your social media. Everywhere you went, several fans that recognised you said things about you. Because of that, you started staying at home and you stopped posting stuff on your social. The worst part is that you distanced yourself slowly from relatives and friends.

At the last few races, you went on McLaren's hospitality from the back, avoiding fans as much as you could and avoided places of the garage that had cameras and media. You took your headset and hid in lonely corners or in Oscar's driver room, where nobody could reach you, and stayed there, sometimes crying and others just sitting and thinking. Feeling hideous and snub.

As the time passed, you started distancing yourself from Oscar slowly, thinking he hated you just like the "fans". He wasn't talking much either, so that's what you thought. You didn't really hug or cuddle him, you ate and showered alone, you spent hours locked up in your office room, reading books, and didn't sleep well at night, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry. Long story short, you started avoiding him, too.

The fist days, Oscar thought you had to study for uni. Then a week passed and Oscar started to get worried. He wanted to help you, he wanted to talk to you, to find what's going on. He was cooking your favourite meals, bringing them to your door, tried to understand if you had a certain time of going out to shower, but you didn't.

One day, he checked your social media, just in case he found why were you acting like that. He checked them that same afternoon he came up with the idea and scrolled through your accounts, every comment he saw made him even angrier. He then posted something in response.

"I've repeatedly seen hateful actions and comments about Y/n and I want people to know that she's not ignorant or rude, she's an introverted person. So, I'm requesting from everyone to respect her. If there are still people out there, still hating on her through internet or irl, they'll stop being considered "fans" by me and will be reported. Thank you." That's what the post said.

He then waited till you got out to shower and stranded waiting in the doorframe if the closed bathroom door. When you got out, he moved infront of you and pulled you into a warm, bone crushing hug. "Why are you so distant lately, sweetheart?"

Tears escaped from your eyes, and you cried silently in Oscar's arms, staining his shirt with them. He didn't move, he rubbed your back gently. "That's it, let it out princess." You continued crying till you hadn't any more tears to shed, holding the towel around your body tightly, afraid it will fall.

Oscar cupped your face and kissed your forehead. "It's okay baby, I'm here for you." He whispered. "Talk to me, what took you away from me?" You looked at him, your face tear stained, sad. "Promise n-not to get angry?" You mumbled. "Of course, I can't get angry that easily, especially from you." He replied, caressing your hair.

You didn't leave his arms, snuggled in their warmth instead. "D-do you hate me?" You mumbled, looking at your feet. "Why would I hate you baby?" He responded, not getting his arms off you. "Because I'm"ignorant" and "rude" and "snub"." Oscar looked at you and smiled sadly. "It's the comments, huh?" You raised your head, a questioning expression in your face.

"I know about the hate you get. I saw it on your social and you don't know how many times I've heard "fans" talk to me or to other people about you when in races or downtown." He explained, ruffling yor hair. "Oh..."

"I'm here for you baby, I know you are shy and stuff but I believe in you. You can ignore them and you have the words to confront them." He smiled. "Can you try that? For me?" "I'll try..." You whispered. "Thanks, sweetheart." You kissed his cheek, adjusting your towel. Oscar noticed, he then grabbed your hand and led you to your shared bedroom. "Let's get you dressed, princess."

Taglist: @pinkswaet @dilemmaontwolegs @changetyre @thef1diary @f1driverszona

[parfaitblogs]

perfect night 𝜗𝜚 s. reid x reader

in which your boyfriend pays not enough attention to you when you especially need it. 

spencer reid x fem!reader. fluff. 0.5k words. established relationship. reader is (semi) drunk and wearing makeup.

a/n: wrote this in 45 minutes. you can tell. i have a super crazy weird condition where i have to write fluffy drunk!r x spencer every two weeks or else ill die. apparently. here’s a draft because i feel like i need to post but also i have nothing to post..

spencer reid who looks up when his door handle rattles at the late hour of three a.m., though concern is nowhere to be found in his body because he can hear giggles and incoherent mumbling from the other side. who pretends to be engrossed in his work when you finally stumble inside, humming of the last song you remember listening to — poker face? maybe. you're not too sure, actually. your lips wet from licking them too many times, the top of them stained from reapplying your lip liner in your phone camera while drunk — you cannot properly do it in that state. 

spencer reid who doesn't even flinch when you slur out a 'hiiii' and climb into his lap at his desk, and only wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest with an acknowledging hum. who looks over your shoulder as he continues to scribe away at the paper in front of him, while you kiss all over his neck. spencer reid who turns his attention to you when your index finger pokes into his shoulder, asking 'what's wrong, honey?'. who laughs at you when you huff that he isn't paying attention to you, before explaining that he 'needs to finish this case report'.

spencer reid who compromises that by the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, he will be done, and then he's all yours for the rest of the night. who laughs again when you very happily get off of him, and bounce towards the bathroom — you did crash into the wall right next to the door (he was concerned until you started laughing at yourself about it). who smiles when you return smelling less like alcohol and more like that body wash he oh-so loves, in his shirt which was another can of worms that had him smiling. 

who lets you climb back into his lap — now on the couch — and finally, finally pays you some proper attention. hands bunching the fabric of his shirt around your hips, staring at your still tipsy-induced grin. who traces circles on your hip bones and asks 'did you have a good night?'. who listens intently as you tell him everything that happened — or, as much as you can remember. which wasn't a lot, but he didn't seem to mind your long pauses and 'wait let me think's cutting up your explanation. 

spencer reid who waited until you confirmed you had finished telling him everything before he kissed you — an action you were sure he had wanted to do for awhile (he always waited until you had finished talking to kiss you. he refused to cut you off). who swallowed your laughter and randomised noises and huffs time and time again, until you were falling quiet and, eventually, limp. 

and spencer reid who must have taken you to bed when you fell asleep, because you woke up under blankets and to the smell of peppermint from the diffuser across the room for your head.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[detectivewoof-a]

@lylavanek || sc!

“Updates: later. Coffee: now.” Or rather he was determined to ignore for as long as possible—which had a tendency to work with other related investigative busy bodies but in this case? Probably not. Oh well, Manny was tired enough to not really mind. Though looking between his mug and the pot in the break area, he decided on what might be one of the strangest of sights: forgoing the coffee mug and just pouring the pot contents straight into his mouth.

Yeah… he’s had one of those weeks.