#i deal w chronic pain like all the time but that is One that I just cannot handle. have no capacity to cope with it

[lukesvangelista]

𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮ᵐʳ⁷³

*gif by @makarhughes

in which matt’s helped y/n through her chronic illness for years, but one night, it all becomes too much.

warnings; chronic illness (lupus), hospitals + hospitalization, worried matt rempe

When you were 14, you sat in the sterile doctor's office, your hands trembling slightly as you waited for test results. You had been feeling off for months—fatigue, joint pain, strange rashes—and you knew something was wrong, but hearing the words "You have lupus" felt like the ground was pulled from beneath you. Your chest tightened as the doctor explained the diagnosis, your mind racing with questions you didn’t know how to ask. All you could think about was how this would affect your life, your schooling, and the people you loved. You felt numb, unable to process it all at once.

When you were 19, you had met Matt during an off-season charity event. You were volunteering at an animal shelter, and hadn’t expected much from the night, just another hockey fundraiser with a few familiar, but many unfamiliar faces. But when you were introduced to Matt, something clicked. He was easygoing, with a quiet charm that drew you in right away. You guys spent the evening talking, first about hockey, then about everything else. By the end of the night, you were laughing like old friends. You hadn't thought much of it at first, but as time went on, your paths kept crossing, and it became clear that meeting Matt wasn’t just a coincidence—it was the start of something that changed your life.

Telling Matt about your chronic illness had been one of the hardest things you ever did. You remembered the night clearly, sitting across from him with your hands clenched tightly in your lap. Your heart pounded as you struggled to find the right words, terrified of how he might react, “I have lupus.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of seeing pity or disappointment in his eyes. But instead of pulling away, Matt gently reached for your hand, his quiet reassurance easing some of the weight you��d been carrying alone for so long.

Ever since then, he’d been the absolute sweetest boyfriend — always taking care of you when things got rough, and always reassuring you about your strength and resilience. It had even gotten to the point where Matt had offered to take games and practices off, but you always told him no. Despite his reluctance, he always listened to you.

While you had been feeling okay over the past couple of weeks, today was one of those days.

It had been one of those mornings where you knew, as soon as you opened your eyes, that it was going to be a rough day. Your body ached in ways that made it hard to move, and a low fever had settled in overnight, leaving you feeling drained. You groaned softly, rolling over and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror— the familiar butterfly-shaped rash had returned, bright across your cheeks.

Matt wasn’t in bed next to you. You cursed to yourself as you realized the time, noting that he was at morning practice. You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes at the pain you were in. You tried to fight through it and get out of bed, but the pain was too much. You felt helpless. With the strength you did have, you reached out to grab your phone off of the nightstand next to you, sending a quick text to Matt.

one of those days. will you be home soon?

You waited anxiously for Matt’s reply, but didn’t have to wait long.

leaving the arena now. be home soon, my love.

On the other end of the phone, Matt could sense something was wrong. Even when you were dealing with a flare up, you were as independent as could be. You hated asking for help, because it made you feel like you were a burden. The fact that you texted him was a miracle in itself.

When he got home, he set his gear down in the garage and made his way up the stairs to your room as quickly as he could. Within minutes, he was sitting beside you on the bed, concern etched on his face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently, brushing a hand across your forehead to check for a fever. You were burning up.

“Better now that you’re here,” you joked, cracking a small smile, but Matt could see right through it. He smiled at you sadly, climbing into bed next to you. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes. Whenever you went through a flare up, you felt as though you could sleep for days on end.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, settling down under the blankets as you gently placed your head on his shoulder, “close your eyes, love, and just rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

So you did.

Matt stayed close all day, making sure you stayed hydrated when you woke up, adjusting the pillows when you needed more comfort, and even gently applying cool compresses to your face when the heat of your fever became unbearable. Every time you tried to apologize or downplay your discomfort, he stopped you with a quiet, reassuring smile, “I’ve got you,” he’d say, his voice calm and steady.

By the time bedtime came around, you were still achy, but the fever had gone down a little, and the rash had begun to fade. Matt had barely left your side, keeping the TV on low and talking to you softly, filling the silence with easy conversation to distract you from the pain. As the two of you lay in bed that night, Matt’s arm draped protectively over you, and you felt a deep sense of comfort. You hated feeling weak, but with Matt, it never felt like you had to fight alone.

As you fluttered off to sleep, Matt pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. He loved it when you slept — you were so extremely beautiful, and he knew that sleeping took the pain away for a brief moment of time. At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but worry. It had been a long time since he’d seen a flare up this bad, but you had gotten through it. That gave him just enough solace to fall asleep next to you after hours of worrying as you slept, his arm still draped gently over your body.

Within minutes of his eyes closing, Matt stirred in his sleep, feeling you shift beside him. He was exhausted, having stayed by your side all day, but he’d never leave you when you were having such a rough time with your illness. He had only just fallen asleep when he felt a light tug on his arm.

“Matt…” your voice was faint, barely a whisper in the dark room, but there was an unmistakable tremor in it that shot adrenaline through him.

He blinked his eyes open and sat up quickly, heart already pounding. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, even though dread immediately settled in his chest.

You looked at him, your face pale and clammy, beads of sweat dotting your forehead. You swallowed hard, struggling to speak. “I… I don’t feel right. It’s never been this bad before. I think… I think I should go to the hospital.”

Matt’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch, and suddenly, he was wide awake, fear gnawing at him. He kept his face calm, though—he had to. If you saw how scared he was, it would only make you panic.

“Okay,” he said gently, his voice even though his mind was racing. “Let’s get you there. Can you sit up?”

You nodded weakly, but as you tried to move, you winced in pain, and Matt immediately reached over, helping you. His hands were steady, though inside, his chest felt like it was caving in. You were never the type to admit that you needed help, and hearing you say that you wanted to go to the hospital made his heart twist in his chest.

Once you were sitting up, Matt quickly grabbed a sweatshirt for you, carefully sliding it over your shoulders before easing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hands never leaving you as he helped you stand.

Every second felt like it stretched on forever. In his mind, he was already imagining the worst—what if something was really wrong? What if you were in more pain than you let on? But outwardly, he stayed calm, focusing on the next step. He needed to get you to the hospital, and everything else could wait.

Once the two of you were in the car, Matt kept glancing over at you, his hand gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. “You’re doing great,” he said softly, hoping the words would bring you some comfort, though the knot in his stomach tightened every time you shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“It hurts,” you cried out, your voice shaky as you gripped your stomach and leaned forward to rest your head on the dashboard. Matt flinched at the pain in your voice, tears gathering in his eyes, but he couldn’t let them spill.

“I know, baby, I know. We’re almost there, just hold on.”

The drive felt like it took forever, every red light adding another layer to Matt’s mounting anxiety. But he didn’t rush. The last thing you needed was a reckless driver on top of everything else.

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Matt helped you out of the car, wrapping his arm securely around your waist as you guys made your way inside. The bright lights and sterile smell of the hospital hit him hard, but he kept his focus on you, his heart aching at how much pain you seemed to be in.

As Matt checked in, you leaned heavily against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You hadn’t said much since the car ride, and Matt’s worry spiked even higher.

The nurse took both of you to a room, and once you were settled on the hospital bed, Matt pulled a chair close, refusing to leave your side. The doctors came in, asking you questions. Although you were obviously in tremendous pain, the doctors wouldn’t let up and get you help. But all Matt could do was watch, his hands clenched together in his lap, his mind screaming for answers.

When the doctors left to run tests, Matt finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? They’ll figure out what’s going on.”

You gave him a small, tired nod, your eyes glassy from pain and exhaustion. “Thanks for staying calm,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with gratitude.

Matt forced a smile, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Anything for you.” But inside, his heart was racing, every second dragging on painfully as he waited for some kind of news. He kept stroking your hand, praying silently that everything would be okay, all while forcing his expression to stay calm.

For your sake, he would hold it together. But the second you were out of this hospital, he’d let all his fear and worry flood out—just not yet. Not until you were okay.

Within minutes, you had passed out from exhaustion. The doctors moved quickly around you. Matt stood by your side, holding your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in an attempt to soothe both you and himself. Although you were asleep, he could feel the tension in your grip, the way you were holding on to him like he was your anchor in a storm.

“I’m right here,” he whispered softly, leaning closer to you. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

But even as he said it, the fear gnawed at him. What if you weren’t okay? What if this time was worse than before?

The doctors were speaking in low tones, their words just out of reach, and Matt’s stomach churned as he tried to make sense of it all. He wanted to demand answers, to make them tell him what was going on, but he couldn’t leave you. He needed to stay with you, to keep you calm, even as his own fear threatened to overwhelm him.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor approached, her expression serious but not alarming. Matt held his breath.

“We’re going to admit Y/N for observation,” the doctor explained. “Her symptoms are concerning, but we’re taking all the necessary steps to stabilize her. We’ll get her comfortable and monitor her closely.”

Matt nodded, swallowing hard. “Is she going to be okay?”

The doctor offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’re doing everything we can. She’s in good hands, Mr. Rempe.”

Matt thanked her, but his focus was already back on you. You were still holding his hand, your grip weak but steady, your eyes still closed as they wheeled you toward a permanent room. His chest tightened again, but he forced himself to stay composed, even though he was falling apart inside.

Once you were in the room, Matt sat down beside your bed, his hand still clutching yours. The room was quiet, the beeping of machines the only sound breaking the silence. Your breathing had calmed slightly, but you looked so pale, so fragile, that it nearly broke him.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on your joined hands, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here. You’re going to get through this, okay? You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”

And even though he was terrified, even though the fear still clawed at him, Matt knew he’d stay with you through it all. No matter how scared he was, no matter how hard it got, he wouldn’t leave your side.

You were everything to him, and he’d do whatever it took to make sure you were okay. Even if that meant staying up all night, fighting sleep when his eyes would flutter shut. The clock struck 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4:00, 5:00, and so on, but the boy refused to sleep, his tired eyes glancing over to you in concern more times than he could count. Time moved slowly, but that didn’t matter to Matt.

The next morning, around 9:00, sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the hospital room, casting a soft glow across the bed. You blinked awake slowly, the familiar beeping of machines and the sterile hospital scent filling your senses. As you adjusted to the light, your eyes immediately found Matt.

He was still in the same chair beside your bed, his posture tense but upright. His hand was still holding yours, his grip firm even though he looked utterly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and it was clear he hadn’t slept at all. His face was slightly scruffy, and his hair was messy from running his hands through it all night, but his gaze was focused entirely on you, concern etched deeply into his features.

“Matt?” your voice came out raspy, your throat dry from a night of fitful sleep. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to pull his attention back from wherever his thoughts had drifted.

His eyes snapped to yours, relief flooding his expression as soon as he saw you were awake. He immediately leaned forward, his tired features softening. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice thick with fatigue. “You’re awake.”

You nodded slowly, your body still heavy with exhaustion, but you could already feel the difference. You felt better—weak, but a little better, “You stayed up all night?” you asked softly, your heart aching at the sight of him so worn out, knowing he had been up watching over you.

Matt gave you a tired smile, but his eyes were filled with love and relief. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice gentle, “I didn’t want to sleep in case you needed me.”

You frowned, your heart swelling with love for him, but also a hint of guilt creeping in. “Matt, you didn’t have to do that. You need rest too.”

He shook his head quickly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “I’m fine. I wanted to be here. The only thing that matters is you.”

The emotion in his voice made your chest tighten, and you felt tears prick your eyes as you looked at him. You knew he was tired, that he had been running on pure adrenaline and fear since the two of you had arrived at the hospital, but there he was, still sitting by your side, refusing to leave.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Matt leaned forward, his free hand brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You won’t ever have to find out,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m always going to be here for you. No matter how hard things get.”

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in your eyes. “I hate that you’re worrying so much,” you whispered. “I hate that you have to deal with this because of me.”

Matt’s expression softened, and he shifted in his chair, leaning in closer to you. “You’re not a burden, Y/N. Not even close. I’d do this a thousand times over if it meant being here for you. You’re everything to me.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You let them fall silently, grateful for his unwavering support, his love that never faltered even when things got tough. You squeezed his hand tightly, wanting him to know how much he meant to you, how much his presence had kept you grounded through everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words filled with all the emotion you couldn’t fully express.

Matt’s face softened even more, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too,” he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “More than anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, the room filled with a quiet peace as you held onto each other. You could feel the weight of everything—your illness, the hospital, the fear—start to lift, replaced by the warmth and comfort of Matt’s love. He had been your rock through it all, never wavering, never leaving your side.

“You should rest now,” you whispered softly, your hand still holding onto his. “You’ve done so much for me. Let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Matt chuckled softly, the sound warm and soothing despite his exhaustion. “Maybe in a little while,” he said with a tired smile. “But right now, I just want to be with you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full. “You’re the best,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

Matt gave you a soft smile, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Yeah,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb gently over your knuckles, “I know.”

You chuckled softly, an eye roll quickly following. But as the morning light filled the room, the two of you stayed there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, knowing that together, you could face whatever came next.

That was until you checked the time, however. You groaned, and Matt’s head shot up, his brows furrowing as he looked over at you to figure out what was wrong, “Matthew Rempe! What happened to morning practice?”

And that was the first time he had left your side.

[thatstonedwriter]

˚₊‧🍄[ Pain in the Ass ]🍃˚₊‧

◉ Synopsis; Billy Butcher comforts(?) you as you deal with chronic pain

◉ CW; swearing, chronic pain, mentions of self-medication, references to ableism, Butcher might be a bit OOC (sorry), implied romantic attraction

��� A/n- I’m still nervous about writing scenarios/short fics but i wanted to try it out since I really like this prompt. Hopefully it turned out alright- enjoy!

You’d done your best- really you had. All morning, quotes from people who thought they knew better, your parents, your own fucking doctors- everybody saying it’s just “mind over matter”- echoing in your head. Classic platitudes you’ve heard since you were younger; people trying to relate, but instead, minimizing your pain.

“Oh yeah I get it- sometimes my stomach hurts, too.”

“Headaches suck but it could always be worse right?”

“You can’t let pain control you.”

“Fuck those stupid God damn- agh!”

Annoyed grumbles turn into a sharp gasp as another wave of pain shoots through your joints. This paired with the stomach/headache combo from this morning was really wearing you down.

And now you were reaching a point of desperation. The medicine you’d been prescribed proved itself useless against the pain today- and sure you could ask for some meds from Frenchie’s stash but… that option should be saved as a last resort. You could ask for help from Hughie, Kimiko or M.M. Surely one of them would be kind enough to pick up more of your prescription or grab you some heating pads- but then again, going out in public could put them at risk. You couldn’t ask them to put their lives in danger for something so trivial.

Never had it crossed your mind to ask Butcher for help. Worst case scenario, he kicks you out of the group for being weak- best case scenario? He says something ableist and leaves you to fend for yourself. No. You’re not dealing with that shit, especially not now.

A knock on the door to your little “bedroom” signaled that a higher power had other plans for you.

“Ya’alright in there, love?” Butcher’s voice, in any other scenario would have been a pleasant surprise- but in this moment of vulnerability? It was like hearing death bells toll.

“Yeah- yep- yep I’m good, thanks.” Your curt reply was not unusual to Butcher, but certainly not preferred. Slightly worrisome, even. You hadn’t come out all morning, and now you’re miffed with him? He hadn’t even done anything to piss you off! Today, at least.

He tries the doorknob, letting out a frustrated huff when it turns out to be locked.

"Trying to let yourself in? See, you're why God made locks."

"Come now, no need for the 'ostility-"

You rolled your eyes as Butcher began his usual spew of excuses, but one in particular caught your attention. It was near the end of his little monologue- softer, quieter, and spoken with a hint of uncertainty.

"and besides… can't have ya crappin' out on us, yeah?"

Even from in your room, you could hear the uncomfortable shuffling of a man unacquainted with emotional vulnerability.

"I'm not 'crapping out' on anyone," you scoff, wincing as more pain sears through your body. "But.. I could use some hel- hey!"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the door "magically" opened- and there Butcher stood, sly smirk on his face, lockpick in hand. He catches your gaze and shoves the pick back in his pocket.

"So then, what seems to be the problem, eh?"

God, it's going to sound so ridiculous when you say it out loud. Compared to what everyone's been through, saying "my tummy hurts" isn't really a matter of urgency.

But it's more than a stomach or headache on it's own. It's more than your joints occasionally aching and popping. It's been every goddamn day for as long as you could remember. Would it really be so wrong to ask for help?

“It’s just been.. pain. All day.”

“Is that all? A’right, where does it ‘urt?”

“…Everywhere. All the time.”

Your response caught Butcher off-guard. He’d been expecting some minor complaints, or even a sarcastic retort about what an ass he was being. The cocky, confident expression was replaced with one of concern as he caught a glimpse of the medications littering the nightstand. Surprisingly enough, they were all your own prescriptions. Probably not strong enough for whatever you were dealing with, Butcher reckons.

“You tried Frenchie’s stash?” he sighs, playful demeanor gone as he goes fishing in his pocket for cigarettes and a light.

“I’m.. saving that as a last resort.”

Butcher lets out a ‘hmph’ as he lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out the door.

“What d’ya need?”

“Sorry?”

He takes another drag, this time blowing the smoke out his nose. “Make me a list, I can grab what’cha need.”

It was hard to tell whether or not Butcher was annoyed with you. On one hand, you could appreciate the concern. On the other, it was almost certain Butcher was frustrated with this show of “weakness.” It took you a moment to find the right words- not necessarily wanting to decline the offer, but hesitant to voice your needs.

“You don’t need to grab anything. Meds aren’t helping today, and I can’t ask you to put yourself at risk. But if you’re offering… I wouldn’t mind some company…”

Uneasy silence smothered the room until Butcher finally sighed, dropping his cig on the floor and putting it out before walking into the room, taking long, slow steps. He grabs a nearby chair, loud scraping assaulting your ears as Butcher drags it to the side of your bed, plopping himself down and crossing his arms. More uncomfortable silence envelops the two of you until you decide to speak up.

"You don't have to be here if you don't want to, y'know."

"I know," Butcher mumbles. He glances at you out of the side of his eye, gaze softening as he watches you wince as yet another wave of pain rolls through your body.

Black spots invade your vision as the aching in your body worsens. You let out a low groan, hands gripping the sheets tightly as you wait for this wave to pass.

A larger, calloused hand covers one of yours, startling you enough to open your eyes. Through the black spots, you swore you could see Butcher's hand on yours, thumb rubbing your knuckles softly.

"You'll uh.. You'll be a'right."

You let out a weak laugh at the awkward, but sweet attempt at comfort.

With how little you'd expected from him, this gentle, caring side to Butcher was a welcome surprise. As the pain dissipates, your eyes begin to flutter closed.

"How about ya take it easy today. I'll tell the others not to bother ya, and I'll come back 'n keep ya company." Butcher's voice is soft- unexpectedly considerate.

Nodding weakly, you lean your head back, shifting against the pillows to get comfortable once again.

Butcher squeezes your hand, keeping a firm hold on you as you drift back to sleep.

[ashwii]

Does Celestial AU Raph overlook all the stars / suns at the centre of all the solar systems, or is it just our solar system's sun?

Also, since Donnie specifically personifies Earth's moon, if it were to somehow get wrecked or smth, would that kill him? Or would it be like with Leo, how it affects him but not in a deadly way? And would this apply to Raph?

(I rlly like your au btw, i'm having a blast scrolling through the celestial au tag)

this might be a bit long, but it's something i care about with them ahah So they all have their similarities and differences, tho overall I kinda put Donnie and Raph in one group, with Leo and Mikey in another. The way in that they're all similar is that they are all overlookers and personifications. Protectors for what they represent -w-

Raph and Donnie personify specific terrestrials -- Raph personifies Earth's sun specifically, while Donnie personifies Earth's moon. They are straight up the sun and the moon¹, without much of the nuanced bs that Leo and Mikey have (that ill go into). However, along with that, they also overlook all of the suns and moons out there. They personify Earth's sun and moon, but they overlook, care for, and protect all the suns and moons that exist out there in the universe.

Mikey and Leo work slightly different. While Donnie and Raph personify Earth' sun and moon (while protecting all the others), Leo and Mikey personify all stars and comets that are out in the universe. Every comet, you can point at and go "It's Mikey!," same for Leo and the stars. Their catch though is that each individual star and comet has their own type of a life and soul as well that they share with Mikey and Leo². I go into a looot more detail about that in my FAQ post, which i just updated ahah

im glad youre having fun with the tag! every time i bring up the au again it kinda collects new people to look into it and it always makes me feel nice ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

*footnotes under the cut

¹ "they are straight up the sun and the moon," the sun and the moon as they are like.. still exists as the regular ass sun and moon, but Raph and Donnie also exist as their personifications, alongside the ball of gas and the big rock. Like, if something hit the moon, Don would feel it and it would hurt him. Earth's moon doesn't have a separate soul, Donnie is that soul, same for Raph and the Sun -- so to answer that question, yes, if something impacted the moon enough to where it would be destroyed, it would kill Donnie as well. With Leo, it only slightly effects him because the universe is so dense with stars. If every star were to be destroyed at some point, then that's the point where Leo would die. But, that's kinda impossible, so Leo just deals with his chronic pain of his kids dying all the time 😭

² "Do all the other suns and moons out there also have their own souls (like the stars and comets)?" -- Well, the suns do, as the suns also classify as stars. Moons tho.. Uhhh, not in the same way I feel. I feel their life is more muted compared to the other terrestrials, like how a tree is alive and healthy, but no real feelings are in there. The important thing to note is that Raph and Donnie are NOT intertwined to other stars and moons by the soul, the way Leo and Mikey are. They simply overlook and protect uwu

[hermitw]

I love kenjaku as a symbol of faceless evil. existing in anyone after carving out their souls. (swear he eats the brain of the next vessel before inhabiting it - kenjaku is a brain w teeth. TEETH. what else would they be for)

so often in fiction, faceless evil is represented by a bald person. no hair, no eyebrows = no dimension, just a soulless robot or criminal with no story of their own.

jjk doesn't have any of that. the baldest person is Juzo, who still had a lot of defining (even iconic and admirable) traits and I love him so much.

Anyway!! after reading some posts about the bald polls, it rly... validated the bitterness I felt while skipping over them. what if I'm bald AND have an opinion?

it feels like they don't think bald people can read, can see the polls, can have a soul. I'm not condemning anyone who has posted or voted or shared these - I don't consider it a serious issue, but I'm going to ramble a bit about baldness (and feel free to rb w your own bald thoughts) after realizing that there are irl implications.

being bald is... such a wide spectrum of choice, necessity and security. there are a lot of reasons for it.

whether it's for medical, spiritual, mental, financial, sensory etc. reasons...

I guess mine have always been a combination.

the first time I was bald was nearly 10 years ago. it was by choice then, to avoid the embarrassment of hat hair after walking to school. I was Very insecure about the way it looked. specifically, like that one star wars character w the tall bald head (which is bc I was in the habit of holding my head down, genuinely just holding my head higher would have changed appearance greatly but I had no idea then). I laughed about it, sent my friend a picture of us side by side, and decided I could never shave my head again. my head shape was weird. it was exposed and ugly and I was not allowed to wear hats in school.

my neighbor immediately thought that I had cancer. if I did, then I would not want anyone to know that at a glance. I'd want privacy. I didn't want anyone to feel so exposed like that, I wanted baldness to be normalized and even fashionable.

I guess the next time I shaved my head was for financial reasons. it's cheaper to spend $10 on a clearance shaving item than to buy hair care products. I'd spend years trying to grow it back but wearing hats 24/7, which kills hair. so I'd have to shave it again. eventually was able to grow some back. it was probably falling out from stress, I kept getting cortisol rashes etc around then.

the next time I shaved my head was, I guess for spiritual or mental health reasons. I felt secure that way, I liked it, I dressed in ways that felt true to myself. I learned that dressing in any way perceived as "femme" makes old men feral online and irl when you are bald.

I learned that walking outside dressed "masc" made me perceived as suspicious. Just for existing in public. it was weird, more severe than the looks of white women when i walk into their place of business dressed "alternative" or they can't discern my gender at a glance (I have a lot of privilege here, I know poc have to deal w this on another level all the time and if anyone wants to add to this, pls go for it).

since covid, I've found it impossible to decently grow hair. it takes 10x longer for me than average anyway, and has 99% been a means of insecurity or shame or coercive control. I'll always be missing out on the scene kid hair, but at this point I do love and prefer being bald.

I do feel insecure about it sometimes though. I feel weird knowing that I have the traits to do a thukuna cosplay. I don't have the heart to bc that would bring out my biggest lifelong insecurities.

recently come to realize that it's an effect of chronic illness for having hair to be rly painful. like, 2 weeks of growth is all you can manage before it's a sensory hell. I wonder what it would be like to not be this way.

the best feeling in the world is a soft bald head, the breeze against it, etc. but it can also get rly cold or very easily burn in the sun (giant headache for days) and if you have to wear a hair net, that is the itchiest thing ever.

it means that if I sit in a patch of sunlight, my head becomes like a lighthouse in the break room.

I began removing my eyebrows years before shaving my head (I used to pull them out. sometimes they'd grow back). by now I've accepted that I just cannot feel like myself with them. every time I remove eyebrows, it's like I recognize my reflection again.

depending on the setting, people are still not used to it. no one who knows me reacts at all at this point, but if I stream online without eyebrows, it's like half the comments. where are they, what happened to your eyebrows, why didn't you draw them on. at this point I'm resorting to "eyebrows are stupid and I don't respect them" or some other borderline brainrot reply.

my streams seem to be a lot more popular when I have both hair (fake) and eyebrows (even if they're just some shape drawn on). then we can talk about other relevant topics. idgi.

Anyway!! being bald has brought a lot of humorous opportunities. it means taking off a wig with cosplay makeup still on and cracking up at my reflection. there are so many jokes that I can make, but the joke is never the baldness itself. it isn't "haha! this person is bald so their personhood is somehow revoked". it's the context, it's the autonomy.

it also means that people don't know how to react to you or what jokes they can make (understandable). I was sad to find out that my work friends had been making jokes for months behind my back. like, if they'd see me outside or anything they'd point and say "bald!" and the way they said it was so funny (and at this point I was very secure in my baldness). we were all very autistic and they'd loudly stim, so this was rly chill and I just wish I'd been included. I also hope I wasn't reflecting sunlight in the break room for a year without realizing it.

it's also weird to navigate though, because why did I get insecure when my best friend said that I reminded them of a star trek character? but when a stranger said "I mean this in the best way possible, you remind me of powder" (idk anything about that movie but I looked it up and it was so funny I tried to dress more like that guy immediately. I guess the way we dressed and makeup matched pretty well there, maybe that was the difference - especially since my head was covered when they said it).

in the end, I can't hold this against anyone because my insecurities are my own to deal with, and they're right, we do look alike.

and there are a lot of people who choose to not have hair, who love it and feel true to themselves. but there are also a lot of us who haven't reached that point, so I guess it's a case by case thing.

ultimately it's not that serious (I mean, there's a lot of more serious issues, this feels rly trivial to write out but i have a lot of privilege so idek).

I wonder what the history/origin is of bald, eyebrowless characters being a symbol of faceless evil. ughhhhh I might have to look this up. if anyone knows pls share it w me

[itooaminthisepisode]

thinking about a time travel/bodyswap au where past!house (med school era?) and current!house swap places and both versions of Wilson go feral from how horny they find the age gap (also thinking about a whumpy bodyswap au where wilson and house swap bodies, forcing wilson to deal w chronic pain and recognising how he's been a dick re: acknowledging house's pain, all while wilson suffers—maybe can't handle it without vicodin but tries to hide it if he takes any bc maybe house was clean pre-swap)

OHHHH ANON YOUR MIND. GENIUS. HOLY FUCK

fresh-faced young house and older wilson.... ough. fuck. i was going to put some additional commentary or something here but i thought about them for one second and got so hard i almost passed out and immediately forgot what i was going to say. waoughghh

and of course older house and young wilson... wilson all starry-eyed at this scruffy, gruff older guy who's entirely enamoured with him. house is almost old enough to be his dad and he gets soooo hot and bothered abt it... i'm sure he has a wild time trying to unpack all of THAT lmaooo

AND THE REGULAR BODY SWAP OH MY GOD. so much angst potential there... the dread of not knowing if they'll be able to swap back, house feeling conflicted because he loves being able to move around freely again but of course he knows EXACTLY what wilson is going through and doesn't want him to go through the pain. wilson being stubborn and ashamed and scared and WAGHAGRHRGHGHH.

head in hands shaking like a chihuahua with how feral this is making me feel FUCK!!! anon i am kissing you on the mouth /nf /p

[lemurballing]

i know everyone is onboard with mimic onscreen murder via whisper BUT; here are a couple nonlethal ways you could also make him less of an issue (under the assumption that IDW can deal with killing him accidentally, but that a main character outright personally killing him is unlikely…)

1: blinded - it’d restrict his reaction time and awareness in combat, and remove his ability to become aware of current appearances and colors; he wouldn’t be able to mimic anyone accurately anymore at a certain point. he’d lose his most effective tool, and if he gets anywhere he’d have to learn how to be actually imposing or effective.

2: loss of limbs - 1-2 arms or legs, in a permanent loss he can’t regrow or shapeshift around (though he probably could be given octopus regeneration…). similarly would restrict his ability to fight, and since he can’t shapeshift a new one, he wouldn’t be able to imitate anyone accurately at all unless they also have lost the same limbs. (i don’t think this option would work canonically, considering mimic can imitate things like tangle’s tail, when he doesn’t have his own tail - but maybe with the phantom pains/whatever mental trauma from losing limbs?)

3: my favorite: burn damage (ie from an explosion) - scar his skin over, removing his ability to shapeshift (assuming it is tied to his skin). he’d still have his own body, but would be entirely incapable of shapeshifting as well as in immense pain.

my own thoughts? i’m tired of mimic hanging over the storyline, especially when all he does over and over is try to kill whisper secretly. i am sympathetic to tangle not being willing to kill - but yeah, mimic can get killed, i’m cool with that.

it’s going to drive a stake between tangle and whisper until tangle can come to terms with what it would actually say about whisper and herself if she managed to kill mimic - or between tangle and silver, if he did the deed itself - which would likely mean separating them for a time… i’m thinking the big reason tangle is so against killing isn’t because of any practical reason or any belief mimic could reform, but she’s afraid of ‘falling’. she’s a little flexible, but tangle DOES have strict morals, and ‘no killing’ is high among them; it would make her or whisper a Bad Person if they killed anyone, even mimic. additionally, tangle is the sort of person who would regret it - her stopping whisper is either trying to spare whisper from feeling that guilt (even though whisper wouldn’t), or herself from feeling it in proximity.

of course, with mimic dead and whisper finally at ease, tangle would see why it worked - i think she could change her mind. it’s just in the interim while they pursue that goal that she’s going to be conflicted and/or hurt.

also - with this mimic plot being started in T&W, released to take place around issue 16 iirc, and lasting up to issue *76*, mimic has been around and been a problem for SIXTY issues - a longer stay than starline had!! mimic doesn’t deserve that sort of linger, even if he’s only sparingly been present IN the comic - he haunts whisper like starline haunted surge. (additionally, starline is a more compelling villain than mimic ever was - the guy who just killed his teammates for a bribe? the guy who’s just chronically such a sellout coward he betrayed multiple other people before the DC and even after reflecting on his own actions in shame, did not stop himself and turn to a better path? he’s a coward, not really a ‘villain’ - a scary mask and a tiger lying in wait, scared off if you turn eyes on him.)

last little aside - as hilarious as mimic’s fumble (“wrong number…?”) in 75 was, that storyline REALLY didn’t deserve that ending - a rugpull accidental reveal when mimic had already been leaving SO MANY CLUES to his true identity. he’s genuinely such a bad actor i don’t know why he ever considered it as a career path - he should’ve gone for runway model or special effects or something. not being given away by his wishy-washy, halfway-presence despite saying he was enthusiastic to be helping out, missing during critical moments, being captured on live footage as the phantom rider wearing duo’s scarf instead of the glowy scarf? honestly, mimic, just leave the scarf off - if the real one’s all glowy, it’s not going to make a difference that you have this dull knit scarf on, just pretend you can disable the scarf to remove handholds!! this guy has a flair for the dramatic and he’s the sort of guy to be the Most Obvious among us importor, has never won a single game except for the other 9 year olds in the public lobby beefing the vote. especially since tangle and whisper had prior experience with trapping him, it would have been FAR more satisfying to see them setting up casual tests of trust to throw suspicion on him… nyeeeeggghhh

[creepycassidy]

Heyyy! I hate to be annoying and request again- Ik your busy and you don’t have to do this requests at all or anytime soon but IF and only IF you want and can- could you do an UA Albert Shaw x male (or gn) reader who has CDH? (chronic daily headaches)

I’ve been really struggling with it and today has just been horrible 😭🙏🏻 I’ve been crying about it like all day if I’m being honest ☹️🤚🏻

Thank youuuuu either wayyy! I’m so in love with your writing!!

Omg!!! I deal with CDH myself and this request really hit home and was a very easy one to write. I understand the pain of what you’re going through completely and truly hope you find relief. Today has been a horrible head day for me as well. Tried all the usual remedies and ice pack but nada. Having a headache all of the time sucks the joy out of life, ugh!! :( I hope this can make you feel just the slightest bit better though at least. Enjoy! <3

-

Alt!Albert Shaw x Reader w/ CDH - HCs

-

Warnings: non-graphic mentions of vomit and illness

-

Read below the cut! ⬇️

-

It makes Al really sad to see you feelin’ all yucky.

Of course, if he could, he’d do a little magic trick and take it allllll away from you. And, poof! You’d never have to worry again.

Unfortunately, that’s a little bit outside of his abilities as a part-time magician…

But!!

But but but!!!

Albert will take care of you as best as he can!

If he can’t take them away, he’ll do just about whatever he can to make you comfortable. Just say the word, sweet boy.

Al put in some low lighting options in the bedroom and throughout the rest of the house in case the brightness ever becomes too much.

Heck, he’ll take the day off of work to spend it with you, if it’ll help.

Always packs painkillers and sunglasses in the van incase you need them. Keeps a frozen bag of peas in the freezer to double as an ice pack.

There’s no reason to feel ashamed or bad if you can’t fulfill certain promises or tasks due to not feeling well. It happens, and it’ll be a-okay! Pinky promise.

If you’re having a particularly bad day or if your headaches ever end up as migraines, Al is there with a wastebasket and a cool rag if you happen to get sick to your stomach.

Al rubs your back, gently soothing and comforting you.

Don’t you even worry your silly self about getting up. Al brings you ice water to be sure you stay hydrated and (canned, he’s still not much of a cook…) soup to keep your tummy full.

Date night at home!! Sometimes maybe you don’t feel like going out, Al understands. How about he orders a pizza or Chinese takeout? He’ll even put on your favorite movie and turn down all the lights. It’s just like going to the theater, except Samson is there to lay his head in your lap!

Naps. Naps, naps, naps. He is 100% a believer that everyone needs a nap sometimes. Albert is more than happy to curl up with you in bed or on the couch. Lay your head against him and relax.

[bonnieura]

You should tell me your favourite JFK facts because I find your posts very interesting /nf 🐇

This has been sitting in my askbox for so long so here we go🫡 not gonna list my favorites but rather as much as i can remember while typing this

jfks eyes are green ,not blue contrary to popular belief! many official documents confirm this which you can easily find online

when not wearing shoes ,jfk had a fairly noticeable limp; because one side of his body was smaller than the other! This included his legs as well (left to be specific iirc) and this is more noticeable in childhood photos if anything

Tied to the fact above ,its also why he had to often wear lifts on one pair of his shoes

Speaking of shoes ,jfk's back pain was so terrible that it reached a point even tying his shoelaces was difficult for him. the chronic pain was genuinely debilitating! he was notorious for his health (or the lack thereof) where at times he'd be made to use crutches bc even walking became hard for him. Literally could not get out of BED on some days bc he was so exhausted and his body hurt .. and people get so surprised when i tell them this

Ive talked to u abt this in ur dms before but he also wore glasses when cameras werent around!

back in the 60s and the decades before it wearing a blue tshirt under a suit or anything of that sort was considered as bold and unprofessional as was wearing any other color like green or purple for ex. It wasnt until the early 60s where they began becoming more normalized— and this is thanks to jfk! he popularized blue tshirts in America after being seen with them on multiple times on addresses and public appearances. Whats interesting abt this is the reason rumored behind it and its that he was inspired by james bond 😭 whose actor wore blue shirts multiple times on film. Im nott exactly sure how true this is but he was pretty big james bond fan anyway so 😭😭

jfk's nickname for jackie was 'kid' and jackies nickname for him aside from jack was bunny

many sleep physicians heavily suggest that jfk had hypersomnolence. In other words that he was really sleepy 24/7 😭 which he indeed was! which obviously couldve had many reasons but the main one is the fatigue that came from his addisons disease— its one of its largest and most common symptoms. that and the exhaustion that wouldve probably come from his like 10 other chronic illnesses 😭 not even as a symptom. Just dealing w that shit is tiring if that makes sense. + Couldve been a side effect for medications he took

speaking of sleep, he was an incredibly light sleeper! the smallest noise would immediately wake him which sounds like hell honestly

he took so many pills and medications a day it's genuinely concerning and even above that. Something that always surprises people is the fact he took antianxiety medication + antipsychotics i think too? But definitely for sure antianxiety and for that reason a lot of specialists think he had GAD but i personally wouldnt say if he did or not

since we're on the topic of meds he was so self conscious of his appearance bc of them😭 since the steroids he took puffed up his face every now and then (moon face) he was always wary of how he looked especially especially his weight. He had such an unhealthy fixation towards it youre well within your right to say he had some form of ED especially with everything else we know abt his eating habits. The one thing he couldn't travel anywhere without was a bathroom scale theres no way thats normal

jfk liked to trick on the secret service now and then. He loved going out with any one of his boyfriends late at night to watch a film only to come back even later— all unbeknownst to the secret service 😭 theyd frazzle and look for him everywhere .. and of course theyd eventually find him anyway giggling with whoever guy he had gone out with that night. The ss would attempt to talk him out of it ,warning him of his 'night outs' dangers but obv it did not go through to him

speaking of night outs .. after JFK moved his friend Lem Billings into the whitehouse (becoming the first 'friend of the president' to live in the white house) he would stay for entire nights in his room and do sleepovers sometimes its so dumb. Jackie didn't enjoy this aspect of their relationship at all cause no matter how close you are to your friend you dont just sleep in their room for nights at a time .. especially with everything else they did

jfk was a. below average driver 😭 he liked to drive by himself but he was far from the best at it. He'd be trailing off somewhere in his compound and the ss would be following behind just in case

jfk hated hated i mean LOATHED being touched 😭 this one especially shocks people bc of the rumors regarding his sex life and wtv but he genuinely felt so uncomfortable when people touched him nonsexually. Even the closest people to him as well.. to the point that it took Jackie the final few months of their marriage to finally break through that wall and have him feel safe and comfortable enough to let her touch him. He would literally pull away if you as much as placed your hand on his shoulder according to lem in a source i cant find rn

he and jackie had to sleep on separate mattresses due to him needing a hard one for his back 😭 so what they would do is stick two beds right next to one another to create a king sized one

jfk was such a sweet tooth tbh it could only be rivaled by his own daughter (whom he had such a close and tender relationship with of course but thats for another post ..) but to be frank he kind of needed to be one! His blood pressure and sugar were low more often than not .. a result of his addisons disease im p sure

Tied to the one above unfortunately his constantly low bp made him a susceptible target of fainting and blacking out more than the average person. To his luck if he overworked himself even a little he would collapse .. he was literally like a porcelain doll in a way he was so frail in terms of health

he (and his brother bobby) both had a terrible issue with dissociation. They couldnt help but zone out and completely derealize during social events or conversations and there are a couple of videos you can find online with him doing this

he fidgeted SO. MUCH. Like im autistic and neurodivergent and yet i dont do it as much as he did fuck did he have 😭 many say that his fidgeting was 1) subconscious and 2) to help ease his pain. We know the latter was how he dealt w his back pain ,he used to use his rocking chair as a type of fidget to keep his mind numb .. for one he had a terrible habit of tapping his teeth with his fingernails and it took him jackie to.. not like teach him out of it but get him to sort of stop in a way i guess

21. he was friends with frank sinatra ! Obviously during his presidency they grew out but if one ever needed anything from the other like theyd provide it for them

22. jfk loved animals but unfortunately had the worst allergies known to man 😭 theres one instance where he tried to impress jackie by riding a horse i think when they were still in their early years of marriage? or before that even im not sure .. but not even half an hour or so later he was sneezing all over the place and out of breath like he was gonna die or something

23. kennedy was quite an avid reader. He loved to read in his free time and whenever he was sick . He mainly did this during childhood and teenagehood where sickness took up more than half of his life at that point ,and with no one to company him during the hours sitting on a bed (i mean not even his own mother .. barely writing to him a letter or two if she even replied to his) (except for lem whom wrote to him almost daily im pretty sure? Im not sure if he used to visit or not but considering he was sick he probably couldn't) he found himself reading books and classic literature to ease the hours that passed alone

24. his relationship with his mom was so bad like genuinely it deserves a post of its own. theres one instance in the 50s i think talking with his friends he allegedly said 'my mother never held or hugged me! never! never!' and im sure it kickstarted his aversion to touch somehow 😭

25. jfk loved getting his hair played with. So did bobby i think but im not sure 😭 i think we all do honestly but for him it was all the more relaxing for it being a foreign thing to him .. some of our best memories as children were when our parents used to play and run their fingers through our heads and we knew how relaxing it was! But he never got that as a kid i dont think 😕

26. kennedy was the one who taught caroline (and jr im pretty sure) how to swim! In a passing down of his love for the ocean and sea to his children he taught them both from an early age swimming ,so in a way they could join him during his swims if they wanted to

^ helping him swim i think here

im tired of thinking of more so thats it! and feel free to add some other facts or anecdotes in the rbs or replies id love to read them

[dragonagecompanions]

It's been a while since I've submitted anything, but no pressure ^.^

Romances react to Fem!Inquisitor dealing w/ debilitating chronic pain. They hid it for so long because they were worried they wouldn't be an effective leader if it was known they were always in pain. (I am dealing with it myself so if you want specifics, hip and shoulder pain. Frequent migraines.)

Cassandra: She sees it right away.

Seekers of Truth have a calling to watch for magic, and that is their primary duty. But in that pursuit the martial and combat arts have always featured heavily, and in her tenure with the order Cassandra has trained more than one apprentice to the sword and shield and fighting arts. Young people are so impatient to learn and eager to show their prowess, even in the face of injury; women tolerate pain better and hide even more, already feeling the difference on the field.

All of that experience means that Skyhold's seeker sees the short swings and tighter movements, the subtle winces and how their lady inquisitor always sits just close enough to the fire on even the warmest nights. There are no injuries to cause this, and after a life of combat Cassandra is well versed with the sapping radiating ache of chronic and untreated pain.

"You are a herald, not Andraste herself. You must tell me or one of the others if you are in pain. We will support you. Come with me-- I will show you how to wrap your shoulders and we will find a new stance to help your hips. I have a tea that will help your head."

Varric: Ten years of fighting the good fight in Kirkwall can leave anyone with a few aches that just don't go away, and his keen eye for detail does not miss the signs. Blondie hasn't been around to tend those joints and muscles for a long time (not that Varric would trust him anymore regardless), and so a shopping list goes out to those merchants who specialize in a few key purchases.

Its after a late round of wicked grace, when there is no one else to save face for, that Varric briefly blocks her path and heaves a crate into his arms.

"This might be a poor story for heroes, Herald, but that doesn't mean you get to martyr yourself before the final act. Don't ask what is in the muscle balm, you don't want to know. Burns like bad whiskey but it works. Got some servants putting cushions on that throne for you, and Dennet has a good padded saddle like the jousters use. Few other things too."

He doesn't let them demur, and instead takes the crate to their quarters for them to avoid an argument. "You give enough, sunshine. Let us give back."

Solas: Chronic ailments are the most frustrating to manage, for there is no simple cure. When her pain follows her even into the Fade Solas can feel it, and when there is time he sits with the Herald and is gentle but firm.

"There is no reason to suffer-- your silence does not make the pain noble, no more than asking for help is callow. We will find a way to make this better for you, if you will only let us."

They establish a routine of slow healing spells to reduce the worst of the pain, and Solas coordinates with spirits of healing and valor to ease her sleeping mind and guard her dreams. Better rest and continual treatment are the best he can offer-- his guilt at aggravating her suffering he will carry in silence.

Sera: Hurting is stupid. Hurting when there is no injury is stupid. Stupid bodies are stupid!

Without any solid healing training there isn't much Sera can do to cure the symptoms. But the softest cushions and pillows find their way into the inquisitor's quarters, and the not insignificant portion of Skyhold's staff that coordinate through the Red Jenny keep her abreast (ha) of how their herald is doing. Sera ends up coordinating with those who can help, and heading off the most boring and unnecessary work so that their inquisitor can rest.

Blackwell: A hard life on the road adds up on any warrior, and the Herald is putting so much into a short amount of time. He knows the aching of his own joints enough to recognize it in her, but understands the need to hide any sign of weakness enough to not wish her embarrassment.

And so on the road he is less careful at measuring out the herbs to ease pain, and uses waste as an excuse to keep her cup full of the draught. He works with the others to make sure she has the best ground for her tent, and watches are coordinated so that she has ample time to rest.

When it finally does come to a head, his answer is simple and gruff-- but honest. "You alleviate enough suffering, my lady. Let me help when I can."

Vivienne: She is not fooled. Caretakers, when it comes to knowing the ins and outs of pain and the necessity of treating it, rarely are. The inquisitor is of course due her pride, and Madame de Fer can find no fault with keeping even the rumor of weakness at bay. The game is ruthless when it smells blood in the water, after all.

But that does not mean she lets the situation go unaddressed, and who but one of the most talented alchemists in Orlais to treat the Herald herself? The regiment starts off trial and error, as most treatments must, but in time the first enchanter isolates and perfects the tonics needed to lessen the worst of the aches and negate the migraines. Magic and herb work hand in hand, and few truly appreciate how much good can be done with just a shaving of root and leaf and the proper spells. She can even make them pleasant to the tongue.

"Think nothing of it, my dear. Though I do hope you will accompany me to my tailor's salon, next time we both grace Val Royeaux. There are better options for your comfort than...whatever they are having you wear now."

Dorian: Few physicians and even fewer magic users will ever gain the minute and detailed understanding of the human body quite like the necromancer. It is a study down to the cellular level, and understanding is key when knowing how much mana is required to reanimate bone and muscle. Many famous Mortalitasi were also famed healers, and for those who straddle the line between life and death it is the body that builds the bridge.

Dorian is no slouch in his own field, of course, but in truth it was the long months he spent with Felix that sharpened his novice healer's gaze. His late friend was never good at letting anyone know the extent of his suffering, and so the scion of House Pavus became a seer of suffering. The smallest shift or wince, or even the dillation of the pupil were enough to prompt rest or food or a restoration potion.

The Blight made all of his stud complex and hard to chart-- at the risk of down playing their leader's condition, chronic pain is childs play in comparison. She has only to lean back in her saddle at a certain angle (indicative of pain in the hips) before Dorian is bemoaning the Southern terrain and demanding a rest. The stoop of her shoulders after a long march will cut even the most important missions short, and Dorian is both vain and selfish enough on occasion to make all the delays entirely his fault.

The Inquisitor has chosen intelligent persons for her cirlce, thankfully, and after awhile the others catch onto his game. They still let his play the shirking violet, mostly for their Herald's sake, but as a rule the entire squad defers to the Tevinter's judgement on their inquisitor's condition. And that self same anatomical knowledge means that on the worst days Dorian calls heat into his hands and works the muscles and joints in theraputic massage until at least the edge of the pain is gone.

(The lack of rumors following the sounds of those massages might annoy the inquisition's resident necromancer, but the simple fact is everyone has heard him and the iron bull by that point and no one is fooled.

Shame.)

The Iron Bull: Having only one eye does not lessen his attention to detail, and like Dorian the Ben- Hassrath agent learns to read their leader's tells quickly. Stitches will be glad to have someone who actually wears the poultices for once, and when they are in the kind of terrain where horses cannot go (and he sees the pain wearing lines in far too young a face), he is the easiest solution.

"Now boss, come on! Think of the mayhem you can unleash from ten feet in the air! You'll be at rift height, really get them sputtering. Say, think if you get at the right angle you can get a rock into the Fade?"

Cole: "Like glass in the joints, can't get comfortable, no good angle. How can I lead if I can't even make my body listen? Too much pain, on and off but always on, no one will listen to a weak Inquisitor. But you aren't weak! You keep going even when it hurts, so that others don't hurt more. It helps! You help. And I can help you too.

Sleep."

Josephine: Once she is made aware of it, there is no stopping the Inquisition's ambassador. Doctors and healers and any number of resources are brought in. Work is reassigned and assistants are hired, soldiers are assigned so that there is enough gear for comfortable accommodations on the road. It takes hardly any time at all to arrange, but Josephine does make sure the pull their herald aside first. Her tone is as compassionate and unyielding as when her brothers were sick but still wanted to be outdoors and active.

"Your are important to Thedas, yes. Maybe even vital. But your health is even more so. You must let us be there for you, Your Worship, as you have been there for us. It is easy enough to manage, and no one shall begrudge you. Now, would you prefer down or wool for your cot padding?"

Cullen: He understands. Maker does the Commander understand. Withdraw leaves him with pain in every muscle and headaches that can last for days. Much of what he suffers is the consequences of his own choices and actions though, and Cullen cannot imagine how much worse it must be to have no understanding of why-- and no idea how to cure it.

His support is quiet, a bulwark against her duties. The medicines and treatments that help him are shared, but sometimes simply knowing that another deeply understands your plight is enough. He hopes, for her, that is helps.

Leliana: Divine Justiania hurt, sometimes. From her understanding, it was a combination of arthritis and age, but the pain was frequent enough that intervention was sometimes necessary. Justinia believed firmly that what was eaten affected who ate it, and the personal chef of her office had made careful notations and created a diet designed to ease the worst of her suffering.

When she asks, blunt in the way she can only be with those who understood the Divine, his answer is full of common sense and compassionate suggestions. These are sent to the people who can best use it, kitchens and servants and those members of the inner circle who can help.

The Herald will never need to know who it is that realized how much fish helped instead of red meat, or who ordered the green tea of Rivian that reduces inflammation in the joints. She need never be told of the letters, full of blackmail and threats, that silence those nobles who claim the herald unfit to lead, or keep the deliveries and ingredients to help off of manifests and inventories.

Her work is in the shadows, and she does not need to show it. But it feels right, somehow, that even gone the Divine might help the Herald. And her Left Hand shall make it so.

Mod Fereldone

[gothushi]

Do you have any good hc about how the boys will treat you when you injured? From small injured to a broken arm ( like mine ;( )

ohhhh yea yea ! sry abt ur arm </3 wishing u well recovery

im not gna do every boy individually bc lets be honest .. theyre all gna be great w ur if ur hurt (im thinking along the lines of pulled muscle/broken bone, smth like tht. bc for a teenie injury i can say all the boys wld make sure u have cute band aids and kiss it better) so ill just point out what comes to mind

i think it’s necessary to start off w rob. i mean, we seen him w tom, he is verrry good at handling someone who’s hurt. whilst he’s super fussy over u, whether its with chronic pain or a scrape on the knee, he does so well if smth happens. u slip and pull a muscle? u fall somehow and break ur wrist/ankle? hurt ur knee? he’s really good at being right beside u in an instant but not freaking out. yk the whole kid thing where if u react they react … how parents will be calm to rly see whats goin on … he does tht. he talks gentle and keeps u still so he can figure out just how u feel without freaking u out anymore than u already are. has to get a little stern cuz u try moving around and hes gotta be like ‘hey. stop. stay still, hun. there you go…’ i think i can safely say simon and luke are the same way. simon with his field training, and luke having seen tons of injuries at games/practice and also experience with his own. now, all three of them will definitely be antsy at the er, having to sit and wait. legs bouncing, chewing on his lip, huffy. once they know ur okay though they start to laugh at how groggy u are from the pain meds u got

kinda rambled abt … getting the injury vs how they actually are … sorry. moving on

they all help u around the house, rob’s once again mealprepping but its so u have ready snacks available. waits on u hand and foot for drinks, whatever u want to keep u occupied and ur like … ‘i can walk still’ hes like ‘no.’ LOL. simons the same, wants u to stay put and only rly lets u get up for the bathroom and when u whine abt how stiff u are. if you’ve got a cast, lukes drawing little doodles on it and an ‘i love u’, and rob will draw a single tiger on it

charlies similar. hes very used to different injuries. granted, he doesnt bring home broken bones like .. ever.. (except one time he definitely had his nose broken and refused to admit it despite the bruising and fussing at u to not touch it) but hes definitely used to dealing w deep contusions, sore and pulled muscles. while he treats his own body very roughly, he loves u, his little doll. the only injuries he ever wants to see on u are the ones he inflicts, and even then he gives extreme and detailed aftercare for them. so .. say u call him on his emergency line while hes out on a job, u never call tht phone, ever, u always just leave txts for him on his regular phone that he wont see till hes home anyway. but, here we are, with u sobbing that u were trying to get smth from the attic and fell off the shitty wooden ladder and ur ankle hurts rly rly badly. ohhh hes on his way immediately. similar to the others, he talks u down gently, shushing ur sobs, petting ur head, telling u that he has to look at it, let him feel it ‘i know, its gonna hurt but you’re my brave little girl, arent you? just let me touch it a bit, im gonna see if its broken’ and yeah … it is. takes u to the er and is stone faced most of the time there. on the way home though he’ll stop and get u a shake or some french fries to keep u occupied while he runs into the store.

at home hes the same as the others. keeps an eye on u and gets whatever u need. refuses to let u walk anywhere bc hes not letting his babydoll use crutches, she cld just fall again! princess carries u up and down the stairs, to bed or the couch, bathroom, anywhere. takes over the cooking and cleaning and laundry and he will definitely be all sappy and talk to u abt how grateful he is for u, bc he realizes how much work it rly is to keep the house tidy and running. when ur a bit better but not fully healed and he .. still has to work, he’ll anxiously check the house cameras every half hr to find u

i think nikolai wld be a bit funny bc .. hes a vampire… if he gets an injury he heals awfully fast and can feel rejuvenated just by feeding a few times more than normal. but his little human gf? she needs tender love and care. hes obviously worried if u call him for help or he just shows up and u have a brace on ur wrist, and u gotta explain to him what happened and jog his memory on how u need to be careful … not use it… stuff like that. he’ll press a little kiss over the brace and mumble about his poor lovie

[sevasey51]

At what point do you think Connor would have a conversation with Y/N about putting in a permanent port for fluids and meds? Would Connor talk with Ava before bringing it up?

Doctors appt request to at least talk about it. ❤️

A Different Kind of Help

Summary: After weeks of watching Y/N go through severe POTS flares, failed IV attempts, and countless injections for pain and nausea, Connor begins to think about something more permanent—a port that could make treatment easier and less traumatic. But it’s not a small ask. He knows how much her autonomy matters, and how much she hates feeling like a patient. So before he says anything, he quietly consults Ava. And when the time is right, he sits Y/N down with the gentlest honesty he can offer—and a request: “Let’s at least talk to Ava about it.”

The bruises were what finally got to him.

They bloomed like dark petals along her forearms, trailing down the inside of her elbow and the back of her hands. Some were yellowing, others still deep purple. The result of another week of blown IVs, missed veins, and emergency meds that had to be injected manually into already overworked muscles.

Connor had been the one doing most of them—because even at Med, nurses and techs had to poke her three or four times before they could get a line in. Her veins were EDS-flexible and uncooperative, and her POTS episodes were becoming more frequent. Every dehydration spiral took longer to bounce back from. Every ER visit was harder to recover from.

And still, she tried to wave it off.

“It’s just a bad stretch,” she’d say. “We’ve handled worse.”

But Connor saw the way her eyes flinched every time he came near her with a needle. The way she clutched the kitchen counter after standing too fast. The way she hid her nausea behind tight smiles.

It wasn’t sustainable. And he knew it.

So he did something he didn’t normally do—

He went to Ava Bekker first.

They stood outside an empty trauma bay between cases, both in scrubs, both trying to keep it clinical.

“I’m not asking you to push it,” he said. “I just… I want your medical opinion. She’s had eight ER-level flares in the last two months. Four failed IVs. I’ve been doing at-home subQ and IM meds because I can’t get lines fast enough anymore.”

Ava gave him a long, thoughtful look.

“You’re thinking about a port.”

He nodded. “Long term. Not for daily use. But if she had one in place, we could access it quickly, hydrate her before things spiral, get meds in without traumatizing her every time.”

“She’ll hate it.”

“I know.”

“She’ll feel like she’s crossing into ‘chronic patient’ territory in a way she’s been avoiding.”

“I know that too.”

“But…” Ava paused. “Clinically? It makes sense. She meets the criteria. And if it would reduce the trauma she’s already dealing with…”

Connor ran a hand down his face. “I just don’t want to push her. She’s already exhausted. I don’t want her to feel like I see her as a diagnosis.”

Ava’s voice softened. “Then don’t push. Just ask. Give her the space to think about it. You’re not her doctor—you’re her safe place.”

He waited until Saturday afternoon.

They were both home. Y/N was curled up on the couch, heating pad on her abdomen, sipping slowly on an electrolyte drink. The house was quiet. Calm. The fog of her last flare was just beginning to lift.

Connor sat beside her and waited until she looked at him.

“You okay?” she asked gently, reading the tension in his face like a book.

“Yeah. Just… there’s something I wanted to bring up.” He took her hand. “No pressure. Not a decision—just something to consider.”

She sat up a little straighter. “Okay…”

“I’ve been thinking—what if we asked Ava about a port?”

Her expression froze. “Connor…”

“Just—hear me out,” he said gently. “I know how much you hate feeling like a patient. And I know this is a big step. But we’ve had three ER visits in four weeks. You’ve had six failed IV attempts. Your pain meds, your anti-nausea meds, fluids… they’re all so much harder to give you than they should be.”

She was quiet, eyes blinking faster now. “A port feels so… permanent.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But you already live with all of this permanently. This isn’t changing who you are—it’s just giving us better tools to take care of you when your body goes to war with itself.”

She looked down at her hands. “I don’t want to need it.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “I know.”

“But… I also don’t want to keep going like this.”

“So let’s just ask,” he said softly. “At your next appointment. No commitments. No scheduling anything. Just… a conversation.”

She nodded slowly, eyes glassy. “Okay.”

Connor leaned forward, kissed her forehead, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You’re not less because you need more help. You’re not weak. You’re not broken.”

“You really believe that?”

He nodded against her hair. “I know it.”

And in that moment—wrapped in blankets, surrounded by quiet, with fear still heavy in her chest—Y/N allowed herself to believe it, too.

Just enough to keep moving forward.

One conversation at a time.

[stitchthesewords]

hello

Or grian coming back from dl and he needs not only a cane but hes suffering from a bad-but-temporary case of tinnitus and cant get out of bed and no one sees him for a few days until scar comes over to talk bc holy shit dl and finds Grian in need of help

EXPAND UPON THIS. I AM INTRIGUED. if u want no pressure <3

-catmaidetho

WHEEZING WHATS SO FUNNY IS THAT I HAVE BEEN. STARING AT A WORD DOC ALL DAY TRYING TO <- Girl who is so dead from her job

To start w what the delightful @hitheeprithee said to me earlier that made me. Absolutely fucking insane. But Scar gifting one of his canes to Grian in the post-DL return to HC because he's having trouble with both just walking bc of the aches in his body and the dizzyness caused by the disorientation of being shouted apart. And grian tries, really, to be appreciative, but scar's cane doesnt sit at the right height and he's awkward with it so he just stays in bed and then a few days later Scar sheepishly shows up with a custom made cane for Grian that's the right height and has feathers carved into it and just. hhhh.

But its like. Grian having to learn to rely on others. And I mean this in like the. I am physically disabled and im still learinng. You are always learning how to do this. Every day is a new day for failures and learning in this task. And its grian who doesnt want to get out of bed, who's never felt his body be in such constant misery, not even after third life or last life. He went out - bad. I don't have the brain power to elaborate rn maybe I'll reblog this tomorrow but tldr: I headcanon that the deaths in the life series and way different to deaths on hermitcraft. They're permanently debilitating in some way, but the players keep coming back because they learn to cope, they hold tight to the love for each other that radiates through every time they go through it - anyway. This warden death hurts - and Scar is feeling it too, but not as bad, not as Severely, and furthermore he has coping skills in place already for chronic pains and aches and fatigue. Grian doesn't.

It's Scar showing up and adjusting Grian's pillows to help him sit up, nursing him to health with some food and water, an ice pack, a heating pad, some potions from Cub to help with the pains, to help manage. Its Scar teaching Grian to use a cane, to trust his weight to this inanimate object, to learn to use it as an extension of himself. Helping him learn the walking pattern. It's Scar opening up the bedroom window or whatever the fuck the equivalent is in Grian's base to help get some white noise and teaching Grian to focus on it to make the worst of the ringing go away, to massage the muscles in his head to help with the headaches and migraines.

Scar teaching Grian how to pull his weight up with other people, how to get up from the floor with his back hurts so much he can barely move, to shuffle around the room a little bit just to get the blood flowing in his legs.

And then its like. It's Grian leaning his head against Scar's chest and crying from frustration because his body wont cooperate and he's never had to deal with it before and he doesn't know how. And grian apologizing because he's just complaining about things scar lives with always. And Scar soothing Grian's worries and anxieties becaue he knows why grian's frustrated and its not guaranteed to help but by god he'll try, he'll try so hard to give grian the world back if he can.

god I wish i could elaborate more but. I am sleepy.

[k1rameki]

yippee its that time again, long hc post about dalia YAY ‼️‼️ i wouldve posted this last week but a bitch has been busy working on otha projects yo 🫡🫡 im hustling atm

also i am on an absolute ROLL with these rn because its fun to hc stuff for my favs (WHICH BTW IM ALSO WRITING UP MY HCS FOR ALDRYX SO STAY TUNED FOR THAT >:3)

@beans2cheese ik youre currently lookin forward to this >:3 thank you for being patient w me its much appreciated ^_^

first and foremost we gotta get the neurodivergency outta the way bc my autistic ass loves making all my favourite characters nd,, also shes got social anxiety and depression bc i have social anxiety and depression ion make the rules

also bigender she/him dalia bc im a she/him pronoun using bigender and i said so

ive spoken about my deaf dalia hc before (AND CROW HAS A SIMILAR HC WITH TABI THAT WE TALKED ABOUT TOGETHER ON DISCORD) but turning off her hearing aid whenever noise is too overwhelming or whenever she cant be bothered to deal with people's bs

CRAZY HIGH SPICE TOLERANCE. she and ayana are the kinda people who eat ghost peppers for fun and feel literally nothing at all

chronically late to every single outing with his friends. like tell him to get there in an hour and she will use that time to nap and get ready five minutes before shes supposed to be there

taller than ayana but not by much, boots on, dalia's 5'10/11, without em then he's 5'7

competitive as fuck and will rage at you for screwing her over in board games or video games, expect to hear a plethora of curse words in both english and spanish

generally speaking too dalia has an incredibly short temper (which im pretty sure is canon???) and literally anything can set him off

she and aldryx are sparring buddies you cannot convince me otherwise, hes the one teaching dalia all these nifty tricks and such ^_^ (also shes a kickboxing pro no questions asked)

once dalia tried b-boying to impress ayana and ended up in the hospital with a dislocated shoulder and a bruised ego

🔻: "babe????? are you okay 😭"

🎧: "psshh im fine the sigma grind never dies" (said dalia as she looked away cringing at herself for flopping that so hard)

and trust me, nobody was letting her live that down

has special nicknames for all her loved ones ^_^ they're either something really sweet and sentimental or incredibly fucking stupid

emoticon user!! over text dalia loves using those cute kaomojis (trust me thats not the energy she gives off around other people especially not her close friends)

has a lot of niche interests and will reference something that either nobody knows like AT all or that is something so embarrassingly unfunny that its painful to listen to

🎧: "damn this greedler fanart goes crazy"

📼: "the WHO NOW"

she has the WORST sense of humor ever. literally anything is making this mf laugh

when dalia and ayana first started dating she made an attempt to keep up this persona of just being incredibly suave and chillgoing but the moment aya kissed her for the first time dalia just fucking melted and turned into a complete dweeb right then and there (she looks back on it and is very embarrassed)

OH AND SPEAKING OF HER AND AYA,, café or shopping dates where they just get food and wander around town together not wanting the day to end, bonus if they stay out late and theres a light display going on outside (boy im boutta make ship hcs for them now hold awn im insane)

[glitchbitchwritingblog]

I wonder how Tally would react to a Chronically ill Dragonborn.

Using my own illnesses for inspo here and she/her pronouns cause that's what I personally use.

Like a DB with Hypermobile EDS. Every few steps he hears a POP CRACK POP and sees her leg doesnt look quite right. Or she over extends her arms and legs when moving or reaching something.

When resting at camp he can see her legs and joints are swollen or she has odd bruising in places that dont make sense.

Seeing her using bandages to stabilize her joints. Would he help? If they only have a mile till they are at the place they need to be,would he carry them? Or would he make them rest for the day. Would he find pain salves and tinctures to aid her pain and reduce swelling or break off ice from an ice spike and make her an ice pack?

If she has gastroparisis which would lead to days without eating,or at least being unable to eat solids,would he make stews and soups to make sure she could eat? If she's been throwing up alot or suffering from nausea would he hold her hair back or put it in a ponytail or would he be too squeamish. Would he keep mint on him or make medicines that made her nausea easier to control/deal with?

If she had Migraines would he,after a time of traveling w her,be able to see the warning signs of one approaching ? Would he be able to keep her tent cold,dark,and quiet and be able to keep the rest of their travelling companions quiet? Would he know a trick or two that lessens the pain?

If the DB had seizures(absentee and grand mal) would he be able to recognize the signs of them about to hit or in the case of absentee seizures would he realize when one is happening. In the case of a grand mal one would he know to get her airways clear and on her side? Would he be able to do so? Would he know how to tend to her after,as sometimes she may be out of it for a while after,and depending on recent stressors,would he be prepared to restrain her should she be more violent in her confusion?(not all people who have seizures will react in a violent manner after having one,but some,in a state of confusion,can react in such a way)

Just curious overall how this mer would react and treat someone like me. It's just not something I see touched on in any modded characters either in the mods themselves or official statements by their authors and I guess I'm just a bit curious.

[chronic-gastro-illness-culture]

Ok this is legit the first place i see that is dedicated ro people with conditions like mine ? Makes me feel less alone .

now if venting is ok , i feel i am just getting worse again , my diagnosis has been so weird, rn what sounds to fit is ibs and chronic gastritis , i have been sick ever since i was around 5 , i have periods of time on which im ok then periods of time in which my heakth goes to shit , people shun me for having to just lay down and sleep most od the time on my worse days because the stomach pain is so terrible and unbearable.

people love to make my situation about themselves and yet i am not allpwed to tlak about what originated all my issues , i keep getting promises of how "this time around you'll get cured !!" But even my main doctor has said i will never be fully cured , and when i acknowledge that my family scolds me for being "a negativist" , its tiring , and i am just affected by this all over again bc i can tell i am already showing symptoms again :/ , srry if this is a lot , i have been holding most of this and bottling up for 19 years

its not a lot its the reality of living w a chronic illness

thats rlly rough to not have much of a support system n can definitely make things worse . stress is a major trigger for a lot of digestive disorders n getting stressed abt getting a flare up can compound the issue

unfortunately a lot ppl dont understand the chronic part of chronic illness . its not like a digestive disorder is a stomach bug or food poisoning or smth else that causes a temporary bout of digestive distress . its long lasting as in life long . its not fair for u to be judged as an abled bodied person when u have a chronic illness or chronic illnesses n it sux u gotta deal w that esp from family

i hope one day u will be able to surround ur self w a proper support system of ppl who give u understanding n compassion n dont pass judgment

this blog is always here for u if u need to vent

[boxeboxer]

trying very hard to accept that i have chronic pain/am disabled but my doubt won't let me rest. like yes i have experienced chronic and severe back pain every day since i was 12 years old that keeps me from sitting or standing for long periods of time which interferes w my quality of life. yes i was diagnosed w scoliosis and walk w an uneven gait that numerous ppl have pointed out and my shoulders have a difference in height of 3 inches. but also no i am not allowed to get a mobility aid bc it's not that bad + i'm making it all up and should just suck it up and deal w the pain.. ouuuu

over the past year it's slowly gotten worse and i finally got the courage to schedule a doctor's appt to hopefully get an xray of my spine. nervous they won't take me seriously and i'll be back at square one though.. (cartoon gulp)