#cw: minor injuries

[dragonpigeons]

Hey guys, I wrote two accounts of my time in hospital and after for anyone interested. The first is posted here. The second I will post separately.

Update: Link to Part 2 is here.

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Account I.

Hospital & After: The Physical & Medical Aspects of My Recovery

CW: bodily fluids, blood, needles, minor injuries.

》 Written with Twitter format in mind, edited for Tumblr.

i.

My family and I, we lived a normal existence. My mother was healthy. My father enjoyed a laid-back life but was otherwise healthy. My brother had lactose intolerance but was otherwise fit and healthy.

I had lived a normal life for the past three decades. I was regarded as fit and healthy. I liked to be active. I went for walks often. I ate a balanced diet. I got over illnesses normally. I had no allergies.

The symptoms began 2-3 years ago. More worries started to accumulate. There were more things to consider, more to do, and more to take responsibility for. And, damningly, what seemed like less time to have to deal with them all.

Everything was piling up in me physically. My body was hoarding all the things I wasn't facing and running away from. My body began to suffer under the weight of it all.

My body was slowly dying.

In May ‘24, my ankles started swelling. It built up quickly over the month and reached up my legs and hips. I finally went to my GP. She saw how serious it was via blood & urine tests. My results were off the charts. I was sent to the hospital right away.

At the hospital, they saw my blood count dropping. I had to have a blood transfusion. It helped my bloods somewhat, but I was still building up fluid and wasn't passing much urine. There was still something wrong with my body. I was still unwell.

They did more blood tests and found an antibody reading, which was also off the charts. The doctors told me I had SLE lupus nephritis. My own body was attacking my kidneys, which meant I couldn't pass urine and get rid of the fluid retention.

ii.

I was given a number of injections and IVs over the next few days. A boost to my low WBCs and neutrophils, prophylactic antibiotics, insulin to lower my potassium level, glucose to keep my blood sugars up, steroids to stabilise the lupus and stop the levels from rising higher.

Soon after, they put me on daily steroids in tablet form, along with a bunch of other pills - antibiotics, antifungal, antirheumatic, minerals, diuretics. They seemed to help keep my body stabilised. Though I did start getting side effects and symptoms.

I had insomnia and woke up often in the night. I also began having strange dreams. They felt like everything was submerged underwater. I couldn't understand what people were saying or doing. Also, my bowels were acting up, and I had to go to the toilet often.

All the while, my swelling continued to increase. I had to wait a few days to be transferred to another hospital. It became more difficult to stand and walk day by day. It was like moving with a bunch of clay wrapped around my feet and legs.

The only people I ended up talking to on a daily basis were my mother, who came to visit me every day with home cooked meals, and my brother via DMs. Everything just got too much, too fast. I had to make a lot of life-critical decisions in a short span of time.

Despite all that, I did find myself with time to think. I found myself thinking how crazy it was that my own body would choose to attack itself. I also found myself accepting that it did and what it meant.

Lupus was here to stay. Lupus would be my companion for life.

iii.

In the meantime, my kidney function dropped to 10%. I had a kidney biopsy done. The results were on the lighter side. There was no scarring but a lot of inflammation. The glomeruli were damaged quite severely, but they would be able to recover. My kidneys could heal.

Something interesting happened during all of this mayhem. I had small swollen lymph nodes for the past two years, which finally went away after the first antibiotic and steroid IVs. It was like the trash had been taken out. I felt I could think clearly for the first time in years.

One of the things I realised was that for nearly all my life, I had been caught up in the most trivial of things. Am I being ignored? Did I do something wrong? Do people even like my art? Does anyone actually like me?

I had used my energy on the wrong things. I came to realise, within the four white walls of my minimally-furnished ward room with a crappy plastic bed to sleep on, the more important things in life. Family. Friends. Community. Network.

The doctors proceeded to the next phase of my treatment. Though lupus had been stabilised by the steroids, my immune system needed to be suppressed in order to lower the levels.

Cyclophosphamide is a chemotherapy drug and, at standard doses, is the standard used to treat lupus patients. They explained the procedure and the risks. The first main risk was hemorrhagic cystitis. The second was infertility.

Since I didn't want children, it was a simpler decision for me to make. I had my first dose of the drug the next day. I didn't feel anything. The doctors told me it would kick in after 7-10 days.

Throughout the days, they continued to poke me like a pin cushion, checking my daily blood levels. My arms and hands were covered in bruises by the end. Some nurses were better than others. One had a shaky hand. I bled and bruised with them the most.

On my last day, the trend in my blood results showed improvement. My kidney function went from 10 to 14%. I was discharged that afternoon and waited for my meds. I chatted with an elderly man. I had chocolate biscuits. I was content.

iv.

My father picked me up and drove me back home. I took my first step out of the hospital after two weeks. Though it was summer, the weather greeted me with a cool, cloudy ambience. I opened my arms and welcomed it. I breathed in the fresh air. I smiled.

I was happy to be back in a comfortable bed and in the company of my family again. The environment was much better, more peaceful. I wasn't disturbed at odd hours of the night by nurses checking my vitals or giving me meds to eat.

My troubles weren't exactly over yet. I continued to have heart palpitations, and my swelling continued to increase over the next two days. I got worried that I would no longer be able to move. I feared I would have to be bed bound.

On the third day of being home, I finally felt myself getting lighter. I was passing more urine and going to the toilet more often. I gained 20kg+ since the start of the swelling. I went from 70+ down to 67 by day five.

On day six, things hit me like a truck. The chemotherapy drug had kicked in. My heart palpitations were hard and numerous. I grew exhausted. Even getting up to go to the toilet took so much out of me. I was down for the count for the following days.

I had to think about how to spend my energy each day. I prioritised eating, resting and going to the toilet. If I had an appointment, I'd try to prepare the day before. There were periods where I'd have more energy, and I'd make use of those.

Eventually, it did get easier as I learned how to manage my symptoms. Eat well, but don't overeat to reduce my palpitations. Eat fibre to keep the bowels moving. Drink fluids to keep hydrated. Rest often to conserve my energy.

v.

Since then, I've been getting better as the days go. It's been a rough and bumpy ride throughout. My symptoms and needs seem to change by the day. I have to adjust through trial and error.

Sometimes I get it wrong. Sometimes I get it right. Often, there's conflicting info on the Web. I have to take it all with a grain of salt (which is almost literally all I can have with my kidney injury) and find what works for me. I've learnt a lot. There's still more to learn.

Every day brings something new. I still get scared when something unwanted or unexpected happens. I still panic and rush to resolve the problem as if a meteor is about to hit the planet. I'm learning to just stop and do nothing. Calm myself. Observe.

I'm a high-strung person who tends to jump to the worst conclusions. I believe that with enough discipline and focus, I can change this for the better. It will take patience. It will take time. Something I thought I didn't have enough of. Now I know that I do.

There is time for everything. I just have to make it by cutting out the unnecessary and focusing on what truly matters.

Before, I squandered my time and energy. Now, I will spend them wisely as I recover and return to a new normality.

---

[deliriiuumm]

tagged by @ennas-aesthetic for the last line game!

i'm meant to post the last lines of my wip so i'm posting crumbs from my one (1) and only wip, which is my dreamling reincarnation time loop au based on the netflix russian doll series. basically, it's a comic post-canon fic where dream is reincarnated as a human and gets trapped in a time loop that he can only escape by confronting his issues.

you can find the longer version on twitter. here it goes:

Morpheus expects his newfound friend to laugh and call him mad, but when he looks up, Hob is wearing a sad smile, and Morpheus feels seen— properly seen— for the first time in his life. “I do, actually.” 

Hob looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he offers his cigarette to Morpheus and he takes it. Smoke unfurls from its bright orange tip as he puts it between his lips. 

With shaking fingers, Morpheus reaches for some chips. He’s aware of his trembling form, still a little winded from falling off his (Johanna’s) bike, but he’s feeling a bit better. 

He thinks about how surreal it is to be sitting in an empty pub and eating fish and chips with a stranger— now a friend— who found him lying in the grass at four in the morning. Later, he’ll go home and wash the dried blood off his nose. He’ll tell Johanna how her bike had sustained the scratches and the dents and offer a replacement if she so wishes. 

Then, he’ll also tell her that it’s not true that he permits himself very few friends, and— 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel anything,” Hob breaks the companionable silence.  

Morpheus blinks and blows thick ribbons of smoke into the air. “Me too.”

i'm tagging everyone who wants to play! 🫶 

[manyunhappygreenies]

Be prepared to see what you'd rather not be.

she/her for Leo

Next.

[jjrockerslefttoe]

menhera chan and ame

[smallz-o]

ive spent so long on this rlly proud of it

(EDIT: YOU CAN SEE IT SO MUCH BETTER W/ BRIGHTNESS UP)

don't usually ask for stuff like this but i put a shit ton of effort into this so please reblog!!

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

CW: minor injury (full underneath)

“Made it!” Happy Kuras day <3

[steddieas-shegoes]

how are you even alive?

for @steddielovemonth prompt ‘love is watching them do stupid things’

rated t | 1,351 words | cw: minor injury, suggestive language | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, the hurt is Steve being stubborn, the comfort is Eddie loving him even though he should accept help

♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️

Twice a year, Steve deep cleaned the house.

Eddie had never witnessed anything like it before.

It’s not that he and Wayne were slobs, but they just did what was necessary, never spending an entire week going over a checklist a mile long to cover every inch of their house.

Steve did.

He said that when he was young, his parents hired people to do it and he was always fascinated with the way the house smelled so fresh for weeks after. He loved watching something go from dusty to shiny, loved seeing the way the windows glistened without any fingerprints from him.

And as he got older, his parents stopped hiring people and just expected it to get done, so he did. And he loved it.

Eddie couldn’t understand it, but he did love the way Steve’s eyes lit up when they got to his cleaning weeks in March and September. He’d plan it all out on a notepad by room, made a list of cleaning supplies he needed, and put stars next to things Eddie would have to help him with.

There were few stars, thankfully.

Eddie didn’t really mind helping. It was his home, too, and any time spent with Steve was time well spent. But the bleach sometimes bothered his sinuses and he’d end up coughing and sneezing for two days after.

He checked the lists now and noticed his name was only on three things:

Flip mattresses

Gutter cleaning (hold ladder and refill pressure washer)

Bookshelves (remove all books, dust, put books back)

He fist pumped once at the realization that he got off easy this time, much easier than he’d been expecting.

Actually, he almost always was enlisted to help with holding the ladder when Steve dusted the-

A bang interrupted his thoughts and he ran without even thinking what it could be.

He walked into the kitchen to see Steve on their ladder, some kind of homemade cleaning solution in a spray bottle in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

“What was that noise?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Steve reach as far as he could without falling off the ladder. He’d probably land on his feet from that height and be fine, but it wouldn’t exactly feel great.

“Dropped the other bottle I had hanging on my belt. It’s fine, just furniture polish. I can get it when I’m done dusting,” Steve was busy, barely even glanced back at Eddie as he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a supervisor?” Eddie found the furniture polish and set it on the counter, watching as Steve furiously rubbed at the top of the cabinets.

“I don’t. But gutter cleaning is tomorrow and I’ll need one then.”

“Steve…”

“Don’t Steve me. I’m fine! I’m already halfway done.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped away, not wanting to argue with Steve when he was at his happiest.

“Can you put the radio on please, baby? I forgot to before I climbed up here.”

Eddie went over to the radio on the kitchen table and turned it on, surprised to find it tuned to the rock station instead of the hits station.

“Well color me shocked! Were you listening to,” he gasped and held his chest. “Rock?”

“Yes, I was. But if you’re gonna make a big deal about it then change it to the hits,” Steves eye roll was almost audible.

“No, no. Let’s listen to Def Leppard, sweetheart. It’s been my dream for one whole minute to check out your ass while listening to Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

Steve snorted, but continued his work.

Eddie continued watching.

And then Steve wobbled a little. He caught himself, but Eddie stood up straighter.

He wobbles more and Eddie started to move towards the ladder to hold it steady.

But it was too late.

Steve was already falling.

He landed on his ass with a yelp and a groan, the washcloth and bottle flying across the floor.

“Shit, Stevie, you okay?” Eddie crouched down next to him, hands cupping his cheeks as he looked him over.

“Yeah. Just twisted my ankle a little when I tried to catch myself,” Steve gestured down at his ankle. “Might need to ice it before I clean more.”

“Maybe you should rest so it doesn’t swell.” Eddie rolled the sweatpants he was wearing up and saw the way it was already swelling. “Okay, you have no choice but to rest since it’s swelling.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that after we ice it,” Eddie said as he gently moved his ankle left and right to see if it was broken.

Steve snorted. “Of course this would happen the first day of my spring cleaning.”

“Maybe if you’d let me supervise earlier…”

“I never lose my balance on the ladder! I thought I’d be fine.”

“Steve, you remember how last year when you were cleaning the pool you insisted the water wouldn’t overfill because of the filters?” Eddie smirked. “And then 6 hours later we were trying to rescue your pool chairs from floating away?”

“That isn’t the same!”

“And then when we first moved in and you insisted you could paint the ceiling yourself and you insisted on handpainting instead of a roller because it wouldn't be even to you and then you dripped paint everywhere and we had to get new carpet? Remember how you ended up breaking your finger because you insisted on rolling the carpet yourself?"

"Okay, that was just bad luck."

"And when you put out the Christmas decorations last year while I was helping Wayne with his truck and I came home to you stuck on the roof?"

"Listen, I am almost 100% sure one of the neighbor kids knocked the ladder over. There was no other way!"

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead. "I'm not sure how you're even alive. You're asking for an accident to happen."

"Weren't you supposed to be getting me ice?" Steve pouted.

Eddie leaned in and nipped at his bottom lip. "You want help getting to the couch first?"

"Nope. It's cleaning week. 20 minutes with an ice pack and then I'm back to dusting."

Eddie shook his head. "You're ridiculous. We'll ice it for 20 and then you're gonna rest for at least an hour so we know if we need to wrap it and keep weight off of it."

"I'm fine, Eds."

"Humor me, sweetheart."

It's a damn good thing Steve did because an hour and a half later, they were on their way to the emergency room for x-rays.

As the doctor told them both that Steve seemed to have fractured a small bone in his ankle, Eddie did his best not to look too smug.

"It won't require a cast or boot, but I do recommend ice every couple of hours and staying off of it as much as possible for the next week or so. If anything starts to hurt worse, come back for a boot."

"Thanks, doc." Eddie waited until the doctor left the room to turn to Steve. "How about next time you want to dust above the fridge and the top of the cabinets, you let me be there to catch you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine."

Eddie kissed his lips softly, barely brushed them just in case someone decided to walk in again. "You want me to stop on the way home to get some more pain meds?"

"Please."

"You hurtin'?"

"A little."

"You want me to take your mind off it?" Eddie wiggled his brows suggestively. "I can keep your ankle elevated, even."

"We'll see when we get home. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Someone has to do the cleaning, baby. Since I can't, looks like you've got a checklist to get to."

"Or we could just put off the cleaning until your ankle heals."

Steve shook his head. "No, I think you can handle it. I'll supervise."

"You're lucky you're so pretty," Eddie groaned.

"Don't forget I'm also very good at sucking your-"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's go before you get us discriminated against."

[macaronichewtoyz]

Shine, Dom, Muerteva, and Alaunus as revenge for @faaarawayyy ;3!!!

[akuisinsane]

200+ notes... you all seemed to like The Reverse AU. so i made these HEAPS of drawings! (blood and minor gore on last page)

commissions open

[hollymacycomic]

Holly & Macy and Everyone Else

Chapter 4: Page 30

Start at the Beginning | About the comic | Tip-jar 

🌘 Support the comic & read the next page now on Patreon! 🌘

[angel-hole]

plaras karitos. >

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I'm making myself sad thinking about Ed's suicidal behavior at the start of s2. Because the thing is, the methods Ed picks for his suicide attempts are so fucking brutal.

Ed's a smart guy; I'm sure if he really wanted to, he could have engineered some way to get someone to kill him painlessly. But he doesn't do that - it's passive "maybe I'll die in one of these 89 consecutive raids" at first (surely not a painless death to begin with), but then you realize later in the season he's probably actually aiming to break the record to bait Ned Low, a guy known for torturing people before he kills them. And Ed's attempt at the end of s2e2, the one where he goads the crew until they don't have a choice but to mutiny on him...getting all your friends to violently beat you to death is a pretty rough way to die.

The only time Ed isn't rocketing towards a very vicious and painful way to die is when he tries to get Izzy to shoot him, but even then, that can honestly be read as him making sure he's disarmed before he goes out there and gets the crew to mutiny on him, with a side of "if Izzy kills me now, that'd be alright, too." Every time I watch that scene it looks to me like Ed knew he wouldn't be able to get Izzy to shoot him.

The thing that really sticks with me isn't just that Ed's suicidal, it's not just that he wants to die. It's that he feels like he deserves for his death to be the most painful way to go he can think of. He doesn't just want to be punished because he feels like he's an irredeemable monster, he thinks he deserves to be hurt.

In conclusion: Stede Bonnet please hug your boyfriend and give him a nice soft blanket to cuddle up in, he needs it.

[devondespresso]

Surprise, Bitch Babe!

T | 691 words | ao3 to be added eventually? probably | Established Steddie, Eddie is a goofy menace | cws: minor blood, minor slapstick violence, rated t for swearing

STWG prompt: "surprise" because its the guild's birthday and i want a gold star dammit dhndnhdgn

Thanks to @tinytalkingtina for helping me speed up the ruminating process by a lot xhmxnhxnh

Graphics by @/steddiecameraroll-graphics

It happens fast. Too fast. 

And that is Eddie's downfall…

Despite his tendency towards loud dramatics, Eddie knows how to be quiet. How to go slow, how to watch, listen, and wait, keep his breath quiet and his steps light. Imperceptible as he lingers out of sight. Out of mind.

It’s a skill, honed from hours upon hours—days, even—of practice. Of dedication. Commitment to his cause, to his vision.

Eddie has failed this kind of task before. He’s slipped up, breathed too loud, made floorboards creak and shoes squeak. But lately, he’s done everything right, only to still be foiled at the last second by the sheer mastery of his opponent’s skill.

With any other adversary, he’s reigned victorious. But not this one. Not yet.

But tonight, Eddie is ready. He has seen the power of his opponent, acknowledged his finesse, his skill, analyzed his methods, the technique behind such innate, unyielding power.

What Eddie needs is speed. His perfectly silent, perfectly invisible stealth, and speed.

Eddie pads over from their bedroom to the kitchen, practically floating towards their arena, socks and soft carpet aiding his descent. 

He hovers by the wall just behind its corner, careful not to brush it, not even with the flannel of his pants or the hairs on his arm. He’s deliberate, careful, and precise.

The sink is running, aiding Eddie’s cause but not enough to start slacking. He listens to the sound of the water, hears the way its echo changes as something is brought under the stream. And as he busies himself with it, Eddie moves.

Eddie slips over, light and careful, avoiding the places he knows will creak—will ruin everything for him for the next week or more—bypasses the island, his second hiding place, because time is against him, because every second in the arena is chance for Steve to ‘feel’ him lurking, so Eddie doesn’t give him that time, marries waiting with speed to finally draw his own upper-hand.

Eddie is next to him and Steve notices, he shifts slightly, feels Eddie’s presence with a jolt but he’s too late, Eddie is already beside him—having finally won their longsuffering battle of wit—leaning his face in with a triumphant grin.

“Boo.”

It happens so fast.

Eddie gets a glimpse of Steve’s eye’s, hardened by fear, and before Eddie can think, can even register that expression, his back is hitting the island counter behind him, and he is the one left senseless: deafened by clattering in the sink and blinded by watery eyes and pain blooming from his face.

“Eddie– fucking—” Steve huffs, breathless but the shoulders of Steve’s watery silhouette drop.

Eddie nods out of reflex, blinking and bringing one hand up to his face.

“You fucking– god, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He can feel something kinda running in his nose. He brings his hand up and feels under it but doesn’t feel anything dripping out of it yet, so he guesses that must be good.

Steve lets out a deep sigh, relaxing as much as he probably can, before his silhouette dips out of sight for a few seconds and returns with a small box of tissues. Eddie grabs one, scrunching it under his nose to catch whatever blood wants to fall. 

“What the hell did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t.” Eddie said, pulling the tissue back to check it, then putting it back again.

“Didn’t.”

“Think.” Eddie said, smiling a little to himself and hoping the tissue would hide it.

Steve looked at him with a classic ‘Are you serious?’ face, brows scrunched, staring him down like prolonged exposure would make Eddie make more sense to him. Which seems to work, as Steve's face melts into resignation as he realizes that yes, Eddie is serious. 

Steve sighs, heavily but not unkindly.

“I'm sorry.” 

“You're okay, I'm sorry, too.” 

Steve smiles a little, still a little worn out and even more incredulous. 

“Thanks.” 

Eddie smiles and checks the tissue again, and he’s definitely bleeding. He catches Steve eyeing the tissue warily, even after Eddie openly looks up at him, until Steve eventually acknowledges his look.

“You're never doing that again.”

“Yeah.” 

[updatingranboo]

ranboo tweeted??

[caption: “Guys did I ever post that photo I took right after getting crushed by that golf cart if not here is that photo of me after I got crushed by that golf cart”]

[angelicsentinel]

Chapters: 1/21 Fandom: 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed, Magic Kaito Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid Characters: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan, Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid, Black Organization Member(s) (Meitantei Conan), Haibara Ai | Miyano Shiho, Miyano Akemi, Hakuba Saguru, Hattori Heiji Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Magic, Action/Adventure, Torture, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Identity Reveal, Minor Character Death Summary:

Kaito uncovers a vast conspiracy from a most unusual source—a journal that purports to be from the future. Caught in the grasping claws of fate, Kaito finds an unlikely ally in detective Kudō Shinichi. They must work together to prevent a dark future, though the present Shinichi is suspicious of Kaito's motives.

-

Notes: So I hit my millionth word in dcmk alone this fic by a country mile. Time travel was a siren song I couldn't resist even after I told myself I'd never do this again. Many thanks to @chiikichai for picking up the pinch hit when the original artist ghosted me and being a wonderful partner; it was such a pleasure to work with you again, Doodle for listening to my inane rambling when I desperately needed it, Kir for being my biggest cheerleader and supporter, for not saying I told you so, and for betaing this monster, and @glitchedcatto for body doubling. Love y'all 💙

Don’t forget to check out Chii’s absolutely incredible art here! Go give it some love!

[kits-ships]

hey, so! i didnt realize how blood the final battle in demon slayer is! luckily the blood only took me an extra TWO HOURS . MAKING THIS A WHOPPING 13 HOUR PIECE?? theres even a third, bloodier version thats more canon accurate :( this is not how the scene goes in my head, but it's still cute... ione throws herself between sanemi and muzan and gets her lower, right leg cut off. i did draw the wrong leg amputated but i am not willing to go back and change it hgjfkdg

hi taglist

@stoneshipper @dudeshusband @sunstar-of-the-north

@kylilah @faerie-circle-ships @knightoflove

@wyndford-dekarios-goda @strawberrisoulmate

@punchurlightsout @rainbowtvz @lovediives