#but after the surgery is completely lost to me

[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.

[wandering-aloneo-o]

can't remember if i said this already or not but shout out past me who when getting wheeled into the operating room to get my tonsils out, and asked by the surgeons if i was okay with them playing taylor swift music, instantly responded with "i HATE taylor swift"

good to know that in the most mind-melted moments i'm still real as fuck

[highly-flammable]

Peeta really was the most delusional person ever because he saw Katniss’ reaction to his possible death TWICE and still thought she was gonna turn out alright if he just died in front of her at the end of the Quarter Quell, like IDK what to tell you my guy you are blind

[seilon]

had my top surgery phone consultation today and checked the post-appointment notes and idk why but I wasn’t ready for my chest skin to be considered Poor Quality. i know what he meant by it but still. amusing

[amnyaburas]

Hello, I am Amany Ubeid . I am a 40 years old. mother of 3 children. My son Mohammed is 16 years old, my son Moath is 14 years old, and my daughter Habiba is 9 years old.🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🍉🍉

Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #17 )

These are photos of my children ❤️ before the war .

.🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🍉🍉

Before the war, our life was a beautiful and stable life. My husband and I used to go to work every day and return to our beautiful home to make us feel the warmth of our family. My work and my husband's work were destroyed and my house was completely burned. It became completely empty and there was nothing in it and it was vulnerable to accidents. Everything we used to live in was destroyed. We have lost our past. And our future became only in our memories. These are pictures of my house before and after it was burned.

.🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🍉🍉

My home before

My home after

.🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🍉🍉

We were displaced from northern Gaza to the south, and now we are next to Rafah in a small place that is not suitable for habitation. I do not know what to do. There is no food, no clean water, and no medicine.

My husband suffers from a skin disease called psoriasis and needs constant treatment, but the treatment is not available.

My husband's treatment costs $100 per month (136 Canadian dollars).

My son needs surgery to save his eye, which, without proper medical attention, may lead to disability. We are seeking support for him to receive the necessary surgery abroad.

The surgical procedure costs 2000 $ (2733 Canadian dollars).

I feel completely exhausted because there is no ointment or treatment for them. I feel restricted and unable to move.

My husband and I, after losing our entire future in Gaza, decided to escape the hell of war and start a new life that our children deserve in a safer and more peaceful place .

Traveling to Egypt costs 25,000$ (34,162.5 Canadian dollars), and to start a new life there, we need 50,000$ (68,325 Canadian dollars) including traveling, accomodations, treatments, medicines and living expenses.

Please, maybe with your help we will survive and give us a chance to live again.

Your help and support is important to keep us alive. Please do not forget us ❤️

.🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🍉🍉

.🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🍉🍉

[bixels]

Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

[shamia962]

🚨Help Shamia family🍉🙏

Jamal Shamia, Iam a criminal lawyer, lam suffering of many diseases hypertension and diabetic mellitus and Muscle spasms and always got shocked and coma

Unfortunately, I was injured in the war and suffered a very serious injury, which was a blood clot in the hip joint area,

which caused him many infections and the infection spread in the area. is currently in Gaza, and my home was destroyed at the beginning of the war. We have lost security and peace. We have witnessed how a single rocket can destroy your entire life, both your past and your future. Our dreams have been shattered. Now the future is unknown and dark. There is no home, no basic life essentials, no job. We are now seeking to leave this country for a life abroad and to obtain security. We estimate our loss to be at least $50,000 to rebuild a home and start our lives anew.

My wife, Mufida, is 62 years old. She traveled before the war to have surgery on her eye alone, and now she is stuck on the Egyptian side. She has no breadwinner and needs many medications and medical supplies.

After that, she suffered a broken hand due to the lack of necessary care for her. I want to collect money to go to her and support her.

Ahmad Jamal Shamia resides in Gaza and is a third-year student in dental school. He lost his education due to the devastating war in Gaza. He was studying at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, and his home was destroyed in the war. He is currently suffering from moving from one temporary shelter to another. Ahmad was a diligent, ambitious, and creative student who ranked first in his class. He didn't limit himself to what he learned in university. He attended courses and workshops online with Egyptian doctors to learn more and excel in his field. He always sought excellence and worked hard for it, and he loved helping all students.

He now needs money to continue his education, which will cost him a lot of money since he will complete his studies in Egypt.

My family is living in extreme danger due to the brutal bombing of their city. There are daily explosions and attacks. The city is no longer safe for them. My family has been unable to work for 11 months due to the war, and they are living on minimal food and water while constantly suffering from fear and shock from the attacks around them. Many in the family have medical needs, and their lives are at risk every moment. Prices have risen in Gaza, and they struggle daily to meet their basic needs.

The family is requesting help to cross the border into Egypt so they can begin rebuilding their lives. Time is of the essence! Help us transport them across the border to Egypt so we know they are safe from the increasing and indiscriminate attacks.

I hope we can work together to help my family leave Gaza. Their escape from the difficulties will only be possible through this fundraising campaign. They are counting on us! Thank you for your support. Thank you for coming together

@pcktknife @palestinegenocide @plomegranate @punkitt-is-here @northgazaupdates2 @el-shango-drew-and-shot @enabledseal @sar-soor @sayruq @helpingg @horrorhorizon @heydreamchild @terezbian @tamamita @everydaylouie @palipunk-blog @queerstudiesnatural @onedollopofsourcream @relevant @itslucyhenley @jackrackhams @just-british-things @junosaccount @what-even-is-thiss @wildandmoody @walaa @arabian-batboy @soon-palestine @gazafunds

@90-ghost

Virefitted by :

@gazavetters no#82

90_ghost

A_shade_of_blue

Sylvianritual

Peacebewithpalstiane

another account for me

@mohamedjshamia

@ahmadshamia

[nohaakram12]

Hello Dear Friends 🫂Pro-Palestine 🇵🇸🍉

I’m Noha Ayyad from Gaza, Mother of martyr and wife of martyr 💔

17 people of My family was forcibly displaced from their homes to the southern Gaza Strip, and they now live in samall tent , The occupation completely destroyed our house and our business and we no longer have anything that we used to own.

MY mother suffers from joint pain and back cartilage pain. Also, she had surgery before the war to remove a tumor in the intestine 💔!!️ and she needs to continue her treatment.

As for my middle brother, Darwish,He has a family of 10 people, he is paralyzed in his right leg, he suffers from severe leg pain.  Two months before the war, he had surgery in Egypt to implant a joint in his leg, and he was supposed to return to Egypt to continue his treatment, but the war prevented him from doing so, so he urgently needs to go to Egypt to continue his treatment.

As for me, I lost my small and beautiful family in the 2014 war, which consists of my husband and my only child, whom I gave birth to after 7 years of deadly waiting and a very long and expensive treatment journey. He was only two and a half years old. I lost him and did not hug him enough to forget the agony of waiting for him to come. I also suffered injuries, which resulted in several operations on my right leg and other parts of my body, the effects of which I still suffer to this day. So, I don't want to experience what it's like to lose someone I love again. It's a very painful feeling. Please save my family.

Life here is unbearable, especially tent life is very difficult, and the situation is getting worse every day.

I urge you to support us to save our lives, Your support is our only hope for survival after losing everything.🚨🚨

We hope you will continue to support us by donating or sharing to help save and rebuild our lives. Every contribution matters, much appreciated ♥️😞

Many thanks to everyone who supported us.

Verified by 👇 line 78

@timetravellingkitty @meaganfoskin @socalgal @briahyu @briahrogersss-blog @chilewithcarnage @aces-and-anime @ghelgheli @mahoushojoe @mahouprince @northgazaupdates2 @rhubarbspring @sayruq @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @terroristiclyscreaming @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy @post-impressionisms @junglejim4233 @kibumkim @neechees @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @marnot-blog @7bittersweet @tortiefrancis @toile @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptocromo @aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchinaaesthetic @dykesbat @watermotif @stuckinapril @violentrevolution-blog @mavigator

@wayneradiotv please help my family 😞

[pathologicalreid]

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.” 

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

[a-shade-of-blue]

Masterlist of Fundraisers from the Palestinians who directly contacted me. (19-21 August)

21 August

Mohammed El Shaer (@m-elshaer038): Muhammed is a 23 year old software engineer student who did not manage to complete his degree because of the genocide. HIs family house has been destroyed. He and his family (his mother, sister, brother and sister-in-law) are trying to evacuate to Egypt. (https://gofund.me/f93c78cb) (#88 on the verified fundraiser list by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi)

Leila Zaqout (Layla) (@joyfulpeacepolice): Layla is from a family of 8. She is a finally year pharmacy student who cannot graduate because of the war. Her neighbouhood has been destroyed and she was slightly injured in a bombing. She has recently contacted hepatitis A.Layla’s grandfather is an open-heart surgery patient. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/e52f6176) (vetted by association, see post here. This campaign has been vouched for by @/ahmed79ss, whose campaign has been shared by 90-ghost (see here and here)) (VERY LOW FUNDS!!!! ONLY $220 USD raised of $155,000 target!)

Mahmoud Al-Sharif (@mahmoud-sharif, @mahmoud-sharif2): Mahmoud had lost his fingers and an eye due to Israel’s previous war on Gaza. He and his wife Soha have 3 children: Retal (12), Joud (11) and Nageh (8). They are trying to evacuate to Egypt.  (https://gofund.me/9c6c3ac9) (vetted by 90-ghost), 

Hazem Shawish (@hazemsuhail, @nisreensuhail, @kenzish): Hazem and Nisreen are from a family of 8. Their father had passed away due to hunger and inadequte healthcare. Their brother Samer has bipolar disorder, which has exacerbated due to the lack of essential medications. They are trying to evacuate to Egypt. (https://gofund.me/917ecb89) (Vetted by association. Nisreen is the sister in law of @samarsh97(shared by 90-ghost). See proof here. Also @nisreensuhail's Instagram (princess__.nisreen) goes all the way back to 2015. They also have a clean search result, see post here.)

Aya (@family-aya): Aya and her husband has 3 children. One of her child and her husband were injured, and several family members were martyred. Her father is a cancer patient, and her elderly mother is elderly has special needs. They are trying to raise funds for daily necessities including food. (https://gofund.me/2946907d) (shared by bilal-salah0. (Bilal-salah0's campaign is listed as #132 on the verified fundraiser spreadsheet vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi. His campaign has reached its goal and he is trying to support other campaigns now, and has said that he would ensure the legitimacy of the campaigns he promote, see post here.))

20 August

Dina Mahammed(@dinamahammed99) Dina is 25 years old. She has a 3-year-old daughter and a 3-month-old son whom she gave birth to under the bombing. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/1bff15a6) (Dina is @/mahmoud1995's sister, see post here and here. @/mahmoud1995's campaign has been shared by 90-ghost) 

Hamdi Al-Shaltawi (@hamdishiltawi): Hamdi is an economic student on his second year of study and he used to run a job. But now he and his family have been displaced. He is trying to evacuate himself and his family (his parents, two brothers and three sisters) out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/ac7c2fa3) (#285 on the verified fundraiser list created by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi) 

Dina Abu Zour (@dinafamily): Dina is a mother of three children and currently pregnant. She is suffering from pregnancy-related proteinuria. One of her children has hepatitis, and her 13-year-old son has psychological issues after being detained by the military. Her husband also suffers from injuries after being captured by the military. (https://gofund.me/b06d2ec5) (#10 on the Bees and Watermelons verified fundraiser list.)

Ghada Ayyad (@ghadak24): Ghada is a 21-year-old palestinian woman. Her father is a healthcare worker and her mother a teacher. She is from a family of 8 including 3 children under 16 years old. They are trying to evacuate to Egypt. (https://gofund.me/51547832) (promoted and verified by Banyule Palestine Action Group, an Instagram based group that verifies campaigns "by comparing them with IG profiles and supplied photos and by having conversations with beneficiaries and their supporters." I have also seen other vetted campaigns promoted by this group (e.g. @/shymaafamily's campaign, which is #141 on their vetted fundraiser list by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi, has also been promoted by this group), so I do trust this group. Ghada's campaign has also been promoted by Youth For Falesteen. Moreover, here is Ghada's Instagram: ghada_family24. She has had her instagram since at least 2021 (she has been tagged in a post from 2021)) (22 Aug: LOW FUNDS! Currently €1,915 raised of €60,000 target!!)

19 August

Hassan Madi (@hassanmadi): Hassan got married 4 days before this current genocide. But now his home is destroyed, he has lost his job and they are now living in a tent. (https://gofund.me/6f65d728) (Vetted by association. Hassan is a nephew of @aya2mohammed, who has been vetted (#166 on the verified fundraiser list vetted by el-shab-husssein and nabulsi). See post here for proof. ) (22 Aug: LOW FUNDS! Only €100 raised of €50,000 goal)

Nour Al-Habil & Ayman Al-Habil (@nour20habil):  Nour is Ayman’s daughter and she has 9 siblings. Their house has been destroyed. Ayman’s 5-year-old son, Ahmed, has hepatitis, and his 3-year-old child has osteoporosis. (https://gofund.me/7adef23f) (Vetted and promoted by gaza-evacuation-funds! Shared by 90-ghost. Also vetted by association. Nour is also a niece of @aya2mohammed (#166 on the verified fundraiser list vetted by el-shab-husssein and nabulsi). See post here for proof.) (22 Aug: LOW FUNDS! Only kr7,795 NOK raised of kr700,000 goal!)

Lubna Al-Sir & Ahmed Hassan Al-Sir (@ahmadelser, @lobnaelser): Lubna and Ahmed have 3 children: Mohamed (9), Hassan (7), and Yazan(2). Their house has been destroyed and they are now displaced and living in tents. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/aa7b3ff2) (shared by 90-ghost) (22 Aug: LOW FUNDS!!! Only €1397 raised of €50,000 target.) 

Mohammed Shamia (@mo-shamia): Mohammed is fourth year student of laboratory medicine. His uni in Gaza has been destroyed and he is trying to finish his education in Egypt. He is trying to evacuate 10 family members (his parents, grandparents, his brother, his sister as well as her husband and her three children). (https://gofund.me/303c68db) (#7 on the verified fundraiser list vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi.)

Amjad Sido (@amjadsido99, @amjadsido): Amjad has 2 children (Mosbah (6) and Abdul Rahman (3)). He is also living with his mother and 5 brothers. The occupation has destroyed their house and killed his father and two of his brothers. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/0729ac5b) (#126 on the verified fundraiser list vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi) 

Walid Al-Qatrawi (@waledps): Walid is an engineer from Gaza. He has 3 children: Adam, Hla, and Nay. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (shared by 90-ghost) (https://buymeacoffee.com/waledps) (https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/GoFundWaledPs)

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 13 July - 25 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 26 July -29 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 30 July - 1 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 2 August - 5 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 6 August - 10 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 11 August - 14 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 15 August - 18 August.

How does vetting and verification work? See post here. (also read comments regarding 90-ghost and why we trust the campaigns he has shared)

See post here for other verified ways to send aid to Gaza.

Don't forget your Daily Clicks on Arab.org, it's free!!! and Every click made is registered in their system and generates donation from sponsors/advertisers.)

[snowballseal]

Doctor's Orders

Summary: There's no messing around with your health, and Zayne makes sure you know that. Just a little spoof ^w^

Word Count: 680

Warnings: like, light (not really) dom/sub themes - listen listen listen

---

“As your doctor, I recommend that you do not participate in any active missions for a week, until this heals,” Zayne says, voice level and professional as he finishes bandaging your shoulder.

While in the midst of a battle, you had lost track of a smaller wanderer. It had taken advantage of your focus on the larger targets to latch onto your shoulder. Just your luck, the little sucker had claws, leaving you with pretty deep gashes down your upper back.

Safe to say, Zayne was less than happy to come back from a surgery and find you perched on his desk, sporting a guilty smile and blood-speckled bandages.

“It’s really not that bad, Zayne,” you try your best to reassure him, carefully flexing your arm. “It barely even hurts!”

“That’s because I administered a local anesthetic before stitching them closed,” he explains tersely, removing his medical gloves and throwing them away. “In a few hours, you will likely be in more pain. I’ll prescribe you a mild pain reliever as well as an antibiotic, you can pick them up at the pharmacy on your way home.”

Unwisely, you flex your arm again and hum, “Hmm, I should probably head back to the office, actually. I feel bad leaving Xavier with all those reports to fill out.”

Zayne pauses, those green eyes narrowing on you. You almost flinch under their intensity, unable to ignore the way your heart leaps to your throat. It’s a look you recognize all too well.

“I’ll go home right after, I promise,” you try to convince him with another big smile.

“And then you will take it easy for a week?”

You hesitate. A small frown pulls at the corners of his lips, his gaze turning impossibly sharper.

“Will you not?”

That should have been enough to let you know you’re poking the tiger, but you try to get up anyways, eyes looking anywhere but him, “Well…You know, things have just been really crazy recently, what with the increase in wanderer attacks, and it would be really irresponsible-”

You’re cut by a firm grip on your chin. Zayne is suddenly standing too, so close, his cool breath brushing your lips as he forces you to look up at him. You freeze, eyes going wide, heat creeping up your neck. You’re standing so close that you can feel his warmth, and you can see the specks of hazel in his eyes. They glint down at you darkly, pinning you in place.

“Let me be clear, darling. As your doctor, I recommend you take it easy for at least a week. As your partner-” He steps closer, forcing you to fall back on the couch again. He follows, arm bracing beside your head, knees pressing down on either side of you, until you're effectively trapped under his larger frame. Your breath sticks in your throat. “-I will let you know that if you consider putting yourself at risk this week, you will face punishment. Am I understood?”

Oh. You let out a shaky breath, nodding meekly against his fingers. Zayne’s eyes narrow even further. A squeak escapes you when he pinches your side.

“Use your words, darling.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you rush out, squirming away from any more pinches. “I understand. No wanderers. No fighting. I’ll take it easy.”

That finally gets Zayne to ease up a little. His grip on your chin moves to your cheek, his thumb tracing over your flushed skin. Pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, he murmurs a low, “Good girl. Now go get your prescriptions and finish your work. I expect to see you home, on time, for dinner.”

It seems the thought of food is enough to make you perk up again, switching gears completely, as if nothing had happened, “Ooh, could you make fancy ramen, again? Please?”

Your unbridled excitement makes the doctor’s expression soften. A low chuckle passing his lips, he leans down to brush your noses together in a gentle eskimo kiss, “Anything you want, my dear. I will take care of you tonight.”

“Yes!”

---

This would probably be the only way I ever consider my health, low key

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

It's Bothering me so much that Taylor Swift is so fake smart-girl coded, I need to say this:

I have a degree in both Philosophy and English Literature....

She used the term Soliloquy wrong in her song by using it to refer to people espousing nonsense while complaining in an echo-chamber about her.

Instead, a soliloquy is the most honest and introspective a character will ever be. Often the character will stand to the front center of the stage and, as if in a dream, speak openly to themselves (and in respect to the audience) lay out the truth, or the agony of whichever conflict haunts the plot. So, anyway she's just plain wrong in her usage of the term.

I am not giving a sanctimonious soliloquy. Miss Taylor Swift, you are wrong, and I am speaking honestly.

She finishes the lyric "sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I'll never see" and I just want to mention that a soliloquy requires an audience... so she does not know what she is talking about by saying that there is no audience for a soliloquy.

Also, for the record, I don't think Taylor Swift knows anything of substance about Aristotle. I, on the other hand, took a three-hour long oral exam over Aristotle's life work while out-of-my-mind-high on Dayquil and pain meds after a surgery. I got an "A", and, somehow, I lived through that, I doubt the validity of Swift's claims to know anything at all about philosophy. Especially, considering how all her songs are about as deep as a puddle.

She's completely lost her credibility.

The woman did not even finish High School in a traditional, well-rounded way. I think she read a handful of Joe's books and now thinks real highly of herself.

Edit: I don't mean to make fun of her for being dumb. I'm frustrated that she's "stepping on my lawn" and making her legion of fans think that she totally knows what she's talking about when it comes to literary references in her work or philosophy. It's obvious that she does not actually understand the concepts she attempts to engage with.

Her only real literary skill is name dropping actually talented writers or philosophers in her songs.

Edit 2: Since some people want to come on this post and tell me that I am being needlessly pedantic about her use of words. Go away. A soliloquy is an ancient literary form, one which transcends cultures and centuries, and I, as a scholar of English Literature, am in the position to say that Swift is speaking about the form incorrectly. She obviously did not even google the form, it's clear she has very little real acquaintance with half the literature concept or authors she names drops.

Sure, soliloquies can be unreliable (Hamlet's "To Be, or not to be" is the most obvious example). However, the fact of the matter is that soliloquy hinges on the Honesty of the character. Swift writing that it's actually the opposite of honesty proves to me that she has no real idea about the literary form.

[latin5mamii]

Taking care of Jude after his shoulder surgery and trying to comfort him from the idea of not playing for 2 - 3 months, he is out of mood and angry but you know how to cheer him up (maybe a bj)😉

Gotcha😉😉 (Warnings: smut)

Jude sat on the couch, his shoulder wrapped in a sling, his face twisted with frustration. "I can't fucking believe it," he muttered, glaring at the floor. "Three months. Three whole months without playing."

You sat down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his good shoulder. "Baby, I know," you said softly. "It's really tough."

He shook his head, anger and sadness mixing in his eyes. "I just feel so useless. What am I supposed to do now?"

"You're not useless," you said firmly. "This is just a temporary setback. You’re going to come back stronger."

He let out a long sigh, clearly not convinced. "It's easy for you to say."

You leaned in closer and hugged him, your voice soothing. "Baby, let's try to focus on other things for now. How about we watch your favorite movie or play a game? Something to get your mind off of it."

He looked at you, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

You kissed his cheek, hoping to bring a bit of comfort. As you held him, an idea came to you. You pulled back slightly and gave him a reassuring smile. "You know what? I think I know something that might help take your mind off things even more."

Curiosity flickered in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Without another word, you gently guided him back against the couch, your hands moving with purpose and tenderness. You kissed him softly, your lips brushing against his in a tender, lingering way. His frustration seemed to melt a little under your touch, replaced by curiosity and something warmer.

Slowly, you moved down, kissing his neck and trailing your lips over his chest, careful to avoid his injured shoulder. His breathing grew heavier, and you could see the tension beginning to ease from his body.

As you continued, you felt his hand gently rest on the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. You took your time, wanting to bring him comfort and pleasure, to help him forget his worries, even if just for a little while.

When you reached his waist, you looked up at him, his eyes locking onto yours. "Relax, baby," you whispered. "Let me take care of you."

He smirked slightly, a hint of mischief returning. "You know just how to make me feel better, don’t you?"

You smiled back, feeling encouraged by his playful tone. Gently, you unbuttoned his pants and eased them down, being mindful of his injury. You took him into your mouth slowly, wanting to savor the moment and make it last. His breath hitched, and you felt his body relax further, his fingers tightening in your hair as he let out a soft moan.

"Yeah, just like that," he murmured, his voice husky. "You're so good at this."

You continued, using your hands and mouth to bring him pleasure, feeling his tension and frustration melting away with each passing moment. His breathing grew more ragged, and you could tell he was getting lost in the sensation, forgetting about the pain and the months of recovery ahead.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned. "Don't stop."

As you brought him closer to the edge, his moans grew louder, and you could feel him trembling. Finally, with a shuddering gasp, he found his release, his body relaxing completely against the couch.

You moved back up to sit beside him, wiping your mouth and smiling softly. "Feeling a little better now?" you asked, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"How could I not?"

[goldyke]

LAP Bands should be illegal

This post is going to deal with medical fatphobia, weight loss surgery, coercion, emetophobia, food issues, disordered eating, and just all around bad shit. But it’s important.

Shortly after I reached adulthood, I was coerced into weight loss surgery. I weighed about 250 pounds and was considered morbidly obese.

The Lap Band is a disgrace to the medical profession and is just another example of how the medical profession does not care about the lives of fat people.

To preface this: the surgery works. I lost 70 pounds and people treated me differently and I hated them all for it.

The Lap Band made my life miserable. When it was filled, I could not eat until noon without getting stuck. Even then, getting stuck was always a risk. There was a strict diet to follow and you were supposed to be safe from that if you followed it. On top of that, there were rules for how you ate. One standard I saw was not to eat in bites larger than your fingernail. Can you see yourself doing that for a week, let alone years and years?

Getting stuck is a horror you can't imagine. The food lodges in the top of your stomach, blocking off your system. You continue to produce saliva and swallow it down. Slowly, the mucous in your saliva builds up. It feels like you're drowning. Eventually, you have to essentially throw it all up. A disgusting experience (and a mortifying one if you're in public.) The saliva is thick and ropy. This experience is often called "sliming" on the forums.

I became frightened of eating in public. In a way, I became frightened of food altogether. I knew something had to give the day I reacted to someone biting a hamburger in a tv show the way a regular person would react to a killer jumping out in a horror movie. I developed the disgusting and unhealthy habit of chewing and spitting out food. I completely lost my enjoyment of many foods I had previously enjoyed because of how problematic they were (I can no longer enjoy a chicken thigh for example.) I stopped eating meals and began grazing. I developed eating habits worse than the ones that "made me fat"

After 3 years, I had the band emptied of fluid, which significantly decreased, but did not stop, these problems. I regained the weight, and found it didn't bother me. (Along the way I discovered that my discomfort with my body had never been weight related)

I had my band removed after 6.5 years earlier this year. I am in a support group on facebook for victims of this malpractice. There are 5.6 thousand members, each with their own horror stories. Some of them cannot get the band removed because insurance will not cover the procedure, though they happily covered the band's placement. Some have tried to go through with removal but have had surgeons try to coerce them into getting a different weight-loss surgery instead of just removing it. Many have long-term damage from the band eroding the walls of their stomach or esophagus, or from the band adhering to multiple organs. Many of them had the band for 12-14 years, before removal because none of our doctors told us it needs to be removed within 10.

Many practices no longer perform Lap Band surgery and now believe it is unethical. The surgeon who removed my band still performs this surgery regularly.

A study performed in 2011 with 151 lap band patients, found that 22% of patients experienced minor complications and 39% experienced major complications. The person who coerced me into surgery actually experienced major complications and needed an emergency removal.

I experienced no serious complications. Everything I described above is considered normal. And It still drastically lowered my quality of life.

I don't know why I'm sharing this or who I'm sharing it for, but here I am. If you know anyone considering the lap band surgery, don't let them go through with it without knowing the truth. And please be kinder to your body than the medical profession wants you to be.

[oneluckydumbass]

Well, hello and welcome to the madhouse. @sock-1574, your wish is my command, here's a quick _v2 for this short. I wrote it at 10pm and it's unedited, forgive me if you find mistakes. Also, f!reader.

In his sleep, Simon turned to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you against his body, a completely casual move that he had done so many times in the past. He just wanted to warm up a little in the chilly room, because despite the thick blanket you insisted on using, he could still use a little help. But his eyes opened when he realized you weren’t there next to him. It was odd. 

When he heard something break downstairs, he jumped out of bed, his instincts kicking in right away. It didn’t sound like a window breaking, more like a mug or a glass landing on the tiles. What were you even doing in the kitchen a little past two in the morning? He called out your name as he walked down the stairs several times, but there was no response. He heard a groan, then some soft sobbing, which made him believe something was wrong. 

By the time he entered the kitchen, you were sitting on the floor with your head between your knees, a hand gripping the back of your neck as you cried. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Nothing, you didn’t even look at him. “Hey, come on, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” you mumbled through your tears. 

“What hurts?”

“My head.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m dizzy, I feel like I could faint any second. I wanted to drink from your favorite mug and I broke it, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t give a damn about that bloody mug,” Simon said with a nervous sigh as he took your hand. “The hospital is ten minutes away, it’s faster if I take you there myself. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He helped you up, but after only a few steps, he felt your body becoming heavier as you lost consciousness. Without thinking, he picked you up and grabbed the car keys from the table by the front door. The hospital was close to their house, he would get there sooner than the ambulance would arrive. It was a miracle that no cop stopped him because he drove like some maniac. He was in a hurry since you were still unresponsive, and deep down he was expecting the worst.

What if you wouldn’t survive whatever this was?

Once he got there and a doctor noticed what state you were in, they quickly took you from him to run some tests on you while someone asked him questions. Questions he didn’t really know the answer to. You seemed fine when you had gone to sleep, all he knew was that you had this terrible headache in the middle of the night. 

They didn’t tell him anything apart from the info that they were doing some scans. He bought a coffee and sat in the waiting room, his mind in overdrive from the events of the past hour. And then that hour became two, and just when he was losing hope someone would finally tell him what the hell was happening, a doctor showed up and asked for your relative. 

“I’m her boyfriend, what’s happening to her?” he replied when they asked him who he was. 

“An aneurysm in her brain. Well, two, but only one ruptured. We will take her to the OR now and see what we can do,” the doctor explained. “It will take a long time, you might want to go home. We will call you once we know more.”

“I’d rather stay. And I’ll call her parents, I’m sure they would like to be here.” 

The doctor nodded then left to focus on your surgery. This left Simon alone in the waiting room again with his face buried in his hands as he tried to fight back the tears. He had to be strong. He couldn’t fall apart. He was supposed to tell your parents that you were in there because of a damn aneurysm. He knew those things were deadly, but you were still alive, fighting. 

After talking to your parents, he sent Price a message, telling him that there was no way he would leave your side for god knows how long. He was considering writing to Johnny too, but in the end he decided not to. The two of you were friends, he would be worried for sure. At least one of them had to stay sharp, especially if he happened to go on a mission before you got better. 

What he wasn’t expecting was Price showing up a bit over an hour after he had sent the message. The Captain greeted him quickly then pulled him into a hug. Simon had no idea how badly he needed that, how much he craved physical contact at this point. It grounded him, made him focus on the present, not on the possible worst outcomes. Because his mind had been full of what ifs, like what if you died, what would he tell your parents and friends? It would mean he failed to do the one thing he promised to do–to protect you from harm. 

“You’re spiraling, Simon,” Price said as they sat down. 

The lieutenant nodded. “It’s hard to do anything else in this place. She’s been in surgery for two hours now, I don’t know how it’s going, her parents aren’t here yet. What will I tell them?”

With a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Price took a deep breath. “You wrote me it was an aneurysm. Those things can be hidden for decades. No one knew it was there, there’s no warning sign as far as I know, and let’s not forget that you brought her here in time. She’ll pull through, don’t worry,” he said. 

They sat there in silence for quite a while, but it was the sort of comforting silence that Simon truly needed now. And then, just when he was about to go and ask someone if they knew anything, the doctor showed up again. “Mr. Riley? She is out of surgery for now. She will need a lot of rest here in the hospital, and it will take some time to see if there is any kind of brain damage. She is okay now, but I need you to understand that a lot of patients with this problem don’t survive for long. We will do everything we can, and it is a good thing you brought her in so soon after the first symptoms. I am… cautiously optimistic.”

“Thank you, doctor,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, a nurse will soon be here to take you to her, but you can’t stay for long.”

Price patted him on the shoulder after the doctor left. “She’s okay. She’s gonna be fine,” he said with a supportive smile. 

Simon nodded. Yes, you were alive. And he would do whatever it took to help you recover. 

[hhnguyen]

aren’t you just precious

Everything medical related was a google search, so those in the medical field please don’t come for me - I was a literature major for a reason 😭

♢ Pairing: Parents!Jake & Neytiri x Oldest daughter!Reader

♢ Word count: 2k 

♢ Genre: suspense, action, angst, slight humor - Warnings: explicit description of injuries, blood, cursing, reader is a lil crazy

⌲ Description: Your iknimaya goes a little south. Aka introducing the ‘demon ikran.’

M A S T E R L I S T

Jake Sully, a marine veteran at the age of twenty-two had gone through absolute hell on earth before ever setting his disabled ass on Pandora. 

He thought he had seen the worse - comrades shot down right in front of his eyes, the blood covering their skin, blank dead eyes staring into his soul. Sometimes there were those who were actually blown to bits by bombs and grenades, screaming not even five feet away from him as they clutched their missing limbs, begging a nonexistent God for mercy.

Then there was his own injury. The pain he hardly remembered, because he had gotten to the point of delusion when they finally managed to drag him out of the war zone, half dead, and to the VA hospital.  

The incoherent words he had heard after waking up from his surgery despite his hazy vision and buzzing hearing at that time, yet the truth coming out of the doctor’s mouth had still hit him in the face like the largest ‘fuck you and your life’ to exist. 

“...ave severe spinal injury...fixable...expensive, marine.”

A severe spinal injury that was fixable but too expensive for a marine like him to afford. 

For an active man as he had been in the past, the thought of being paralyzed from the waist had been his worst nightmare to the point of being ready to waste away his life. 

Though even after all that shit, Jake Sully felt like he wanted to throw up as he stared at his oldest baby girl at the fresh age of fourteen laying there in front of him; delirious as he had once been in the same position, bleeding and bruised. 

He could only thank Eywa that your heart was still beating and your body intact. 

Well, mostly. 

The almost nauseous angle of your left wrist certainly did not look natural. And their bones were fortified, stronger than anything else to human knowledge. Yet it had managed to snap as easily as that. 

Neytiri - his beautiful, poor mate. She was distraught, one would say more so than him. Sitting only inches away from your fevering form in one of Hell’s Gate treating rooms for avatars, muttering prayers with dried tears upon her face. 

Your injuries had been so severe that not even the abilities of your grandmother, the Tsahik, could heal you solely through the spiritual power of Eywa. These kinds of injuries needed the advanced surgery of human technology. 

His other children were barred from coming inside, having been firmly ordered to remain in their village as he and Neytiri made sure that you would be okay. None of them wanted to keep them away, but neither did they want them to be traumatized by seeing your bloodied and broken form. 

A stark contrast from the smiling and proud sister that they knew. 

And yet, you had still managed to complete your iknimaya. 

Jake watched with a bated breath from the air upon Bob, his own faithful ikran through the years, as he saw the slight encouraging push Neytiri had given you on the edge of the nesting place. Your, oh so small form, looked firm and stubborn as you steadily stalked forward in a crouched form, the band for the beak held in your grasp with determination. 

He watched as one ikran flew away. Then another. And another. A third one. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. 

He had lost count after the eleventh. 

You were getting frustrated, he could see that. Neytiri was still there, calling out for you to calm down. To be patient as he moved Bob a little bit closer, but not too much to distract you if you were to see him hovering. 

And there he was. 

Jake had seen it before you did. The vicious screech even reached him high up in the clouds and echoed above all the other ikrans. 

He felt his blood run cold as the midnight blue beast, nearly black in color with its yellow and green detailing jumped down from the highest point of the rocks and landed behind you as you whirled around with snarl of your own. 

But then as fleeting as it had been, you had grinned, taking in the magnificent animal despite its bloodthirsty aggressiveness. 

“Aren’t you just precious?” Neytiri had told him of your words in the aftermath. 

His mate hollered in encouragement, and he could hardly stop the prideful tug of his own lips. 

Rather than you leaping on the beast, Jake straightened up as he saw the ikran run at you as well. Both were only inches away from crashing, as you last minute decided to slide beneath its belly - slight enough to fit as you rolled away on the other side and then slung the catcher around its mouth swiftly before throwing yourself on its back. 

His expectations had been hopeful from that moment. Positive. But wrong, oh so wrong. 

Rather than trying to snap at you by turning, he watched in horror as the ikran seemed to have a human mind as it slammed against a stone wall, you hitting it first. 

Neytiri had screamed, already half leaping forward but stopping herself as she saw you still clinging to the beast. 

Both had thought that had been the worst of it until the ikran tried it again. This time deliberately falling backward to land on its back with a rumble, where you were hung on. 

“LET GO MA ‘ITE! LET GO!” Neytiri was yelling. Or begging. He couldn’t be sure in his own fear. 

But both of them underestimate you, as a growl mixed with what Jake had assumed to be a painful yell from yourself erupted. Legs manage to wrap around the animal’s neck despite being crushed underneath its weight. 

He saw belatedly you were only holding on to the banshee catcher with one hand as you pulled at its head hard enough to make the animal let out another vicious muted screech. 

And then you truly proved you were his daughter. 

“C’MON YOU MOTHERFUCKER. GRANDPA BOB WAS BETTER THAN THIS!”

The ikran had gotten angrier, trashing before suddenly rolling like a fucking bowling pin on the stone-covered ground. 

Towards the edge of the cliff. 

Neytiri ran, and Jake dove, both reaching out and screaming your name as you and the ikran fell off the edge. 

As his mate leaned almost desperately over the edge, Jake forced himself to draw Bob back up, only for a few seconds - not to interfere with the rite. But it was in those few seconds he felt like his heart had stopped beating. 

There was that familiar screech again. 

Then you were soaring. 

Up in a straight line, past Neytiri and him. Tsaheylu clearly made as the ikran listened to your orders. 

There was a blinding grin on your face as you soared, clearly looking for him and letting out a whoop. 

The moment your eyes caught his, Jake felt his grin slip. 

Your eyes, open just moments before suddenly rolled back. Your whole body went slack as you fell over the side, your newly bonded ikran screeching at the sudden weightless feeling as the bond broke and your body went straight down. 

Jake hadn’t heard his desperate yell, this time diving down without stopping. 

He thought you were dead when he managed to catch you and flew back up, only to have Neytiri meet him in the air on her own mount, an expression so clearly in distress. Without a word, they both made haste back to the village, your newly bonded ikran following closely behind. 

“How is she?” His voice sounded like it had gone over fifty years of smoking with no water. It felt like his whole body was weighed down with stones. 

“She’s alive,” that’s all that Max could offer with a grim expression. “She will need surgery. The momentum of her slamming repeatedly against stones with the ikran’s weight on top has managed to collapse a lung.”

Jake had never wanted to sob like a newborn baby until now. But he needed to remain calm, or at least sane. For Neytiri’s sake, and your siblings.

“Usually surgeries like these lead to long-term conditions in life, but we’re certain that with the Na’vi biology she will heal just fine without complications. But it’s the healing that will take time.”

He was nodding along, but it felt like he was far away. Only hearing a slight inconsistent sound in his ears as he watched through the see-through glass into the room where you were all connected up to tubes and an oxygen mask. 

It was so human, the whole situation of you being in a hospital bed for avatars - Jake wanted to laugh. Not in humor, but maybe in slight delusion at the situation. 

“Okay, okay…” he swallowed. “Anything else?”

His human friend was taking pity on him, Jake knew. 

Max has been there since the beginning. Seeing Jake growing his own family and now being placed in this position. “Besides the broken wrist and strained ankle, it’s mostly cuts and bruises. So she will have to wear a brace as well as remain seated for the next week or so. And check-ups every three days.“

“Yeah, we can do that,” Jake croaked. “When’s the surgery?”

“As soon as possible.”

Another nod. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course.”

He had to nearly pry Netytiri away from you as she snarled protectively. But he had to explain that she couldn’t join in on the surgery due to contamination concerns. The whole room had to be fixed to match that of a Na’vi body, the surgeons wearing oxygen masks as the space was filled with Pandora’s toxic air for your sake. 

It was an open lung surgery, Jake had been told. A risky procedure even on earth. It had taken four hours. Four hours full of anxiety and fear. 

But you had pulled through, Max said, Norm closely behind with a relieved teary smile himself. The man was like another uncle to the kids despite his avatar form. He had watched their ceremonies, rites and connections to Eywa. So to Norm, this was just like a family member to him. 

You had slept for a full day and a half after the surgery, still confined to the avatar hospital room before your eyes had fluttered open with difficulty. A cough erupted followed by your painful whine at the action.

Netytiri had hushed you gently, crouching down and stroking your hair back. Fresh tears fell at seeing you conscious again after so long, sobs breaking out as you flashed a sleepy smile at her. 

Neytiri had felt like Eywa had pulled the entirety of Pandora away from underneath her feet during the hours of your examination and surgery. Clutching Jake to her and never wanting to let go as her oldest baby was at the mercy of nature and your own will to live through. 

But she knew. 

You were strong. You always had been. And you had fought. 

Neytiri had never imagined a day when one of her biggest nightmares nearly came to pass. 

To lose one of her children. 

She would rather throw herself off the highest point on Ayram alusìng than lose one of her precious babies before their time. She believed in Eywa with her whole heart and soul and knew their beings were only borrowed and one day had to be returned. 

But Eywa would not take her children away from her until Neytiri herself agreed. 

Until that time, she would do anything to protect them. But to have it happen during one of their most treasured rites in life had prevented her from doing many things. 

Interfering for once. Because you had said so before as if knowing how horribly wrong it could go.��

“Do not stop me, mama. I can do this on my own.”

Of course, you could. And you did. 

Despite having to brush the doors to Eywa’s home yourself to succeed. 

And as your parents carefully helped you back home to the village after five days of observation at Hell’s Gate after your surgery, you couldn’t help but snicker despite the stabs of pain.  

Your mom had admonished you gently to not aggravate your wounds. Whereas your dad held back the roll of his eyes with amusement tickling the sides of his mouth. 

“Why are you laughing, flower?”

Your grin was shit-eating as you looked up at him.

“My iknimaya was so much cooler than Toruk Makto’s.”

“You little skxawng.”

I feel like I lowkey pulled this one out of my ass, but oh well. 

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