#in a sore muscle kind of way not the usual joint kind of way

[gremlinbehaviour]

I don't know if my tolerance for being sore from exercise has changed or if I've always hated it this much, but man I find the idea of adding to my pain intentionally to be so fucking unappealing nowadays. Why do people do that to themselves

[marvelouslizzie]

just let me make you feel better

summary: after a long day of work, you finally come back home and rest. your period is making your day miserable but your boyfriend is here to help you.

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader 

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, period comfort, established relationship, pet names, mentions of menstruation pain, a little bit of period stigma, comfort offering, sexual activity during the period, nipple play, clit play, fingering, after care, obviously blood, unrealistic portrayal of male partners, no mention of y/n.

a/n: I just wanted to write a Bucky Barnes offers to comfort you during your period story so here we are. Unfortunately, this kind of care is really rare so I’m sorry for fucking up your expectations about men. Most of them don’t even do the bare minimum. This concept would shock them but don’t settle for anything less.

Thank you @notafunkiller and @es1dit for beta-reading and helping me better this story. Love you both!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission. 

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me or send me a question regarding the stories I write. I would love to talk about it and no, it would never bother me.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

God, you can’t wait for this day to be over. It’s not the worst day of your life, you know it, but still, the freaking pain just doesn’t want to go away. At least, not completely. It finds different ways to crawl back to you and keep you suffering.

You tried a lot of stuff, starting with good old painkillers. There’s no denying that the pill is helping you, but it’s just not good enough. Your back is hurting, joints are feeling sore and there’s still a headache on the back of your head that no matter how many painkillers you take, keeps lingering and torturing you. Like bleeding isn’t enough.

Yeah, being on your period and working at the same time is no fun. It’s not even bearable. Still, you make it through the day and come back just to drop on the couch. You really want to get rid of these clothes, take a hot shower and change into something comfortable, but you just don’t have the energy. Mentally, you are already doing all this stuff, imagining how good it would feel to stand under the hot water and just let it relax your muscles. Yet your legs don't want to move. You just lay on the couch like a bag of potatoes.

As you drift between sleep and being awake, you hear the keys jingling, signaling that your boyfriend is home. Is it weird that you can already smell him while he’s standing across the room? You have no idea but you can. It just feels like something…  familiar. You have no idea how it works, but it makes you feel safe even though he did nothing but step into the apartment.

“Darling?” Bucky calls out because he isn’t used to not being greeted by you when he comes home. Usually, you are either going toward him or yelling “Welcome home, baby” from wherever you are.

You can’t find the strength to call out so you groan a little while raising your hand. God, his expression changes so quickly. He walks towards you at a trot.

“Are you alright?��

“I am.” You are just exhausted, nothing out of the ordinary. Especially not at this time of the month.

“Are you sure? You don’t look alright.”

“It’s that time of the month again.” The worried expression on his face slowly fades away when he notices you are actually alright. It makes you wonder what he thought happened to you, but you don't ask him.

“Oh, darling…” His voice is so caring. Your period completely saps you of your energy and he knows it. He knows how you suffer or what you do to make yourself feel better. “Did you take a painkiller?”

“Yes.” Of course, you did. That was the first thing you thought of.

“When?”

You stop for a second to think. “In the morning and after lunch.”

“So you can take another one now, right?” 

That’s a good question. You can take another pill, but your stomach is already protesting at that thought. You should eat something before taking it, but you don’t feel like cooking. Even the thought is exhausting.

“But first you will need food.” God, is he reading your mind or what?

“I don’t feel like–” Before you can finish your sentence, he’s already standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

“I will prepare something for you.” When your words register, he turns around and looks at you. “You don’t wanna eat anything?”

“No, no. I was going to say I don’t feel like preparing anything.” 

“Oh, that’s fine.” He turns around. “Don’t worry. I will make your favorite.”

You have yet to learn what he means by that because you have many favorites. A meal, sandwich, snack, or dessert? You find out what he means when he comes back with your favorite sandwich, a glass of water, and the painkiller you use only during your period. You love him for paying enough attention to notice that.

“Eat while I draw a bath for you. Warm water should help.”

Why didn’t you think about filling the tub and just sitting there? The thought of laying there for a while sounds so much more appealing than a quick shower. It doesn’t take long for you to finish the whole sandwich and take the pill. Your stomach isn’t protesting anymore, and neither are your taste buds. Still, the pain and that discomfort are there, lingering and making you regret being born. Men don’t have to suffer like this and it’s so unfair! You hate mankind for that privilege. While you are lost in your thoughts, Bucky comes out of the bathroom and you notice: No, you don’t hate the whole of mankind. There’s one exception. You can’t hate Bucky when he’s the most thoughtful person you've ever met.

“The bathtub is ready for you. Did you finish your sandwich?” He kind of sounds like a teacher or a parent, checking if you did everything you were supposed to.

“Yep, all done.” You gesture to the plate. “Took the painkiller, too.”

“Good job, doll.” He comes closer without taking his eyes off of you. “Wanna head to the bathroom now?”

“Yes, but I need to take some clothes with me first.”

“Don’t worry, I will take care of it. Just get in there and relax, okay?”

You just nod with a small smile on your lips. When he takes care of you like this, you feel so lucky and so seen. You never asked him to do any of this stuff for you. Occasionally, you just said “I don’t feel like cooking” thinking you would order take out or you asked for a painkiller, but he registered all that information and started to do things without you asking. Seeing how he paid attention and cared about you just makes you feel valued.

You have no idea how long you have been laying in the bathtub. It was nearly perfect with the bubbles and the scent. You expected him to show up and tell you what to do next, but that did not happen. After a while, you decide to properly clean yourself and drain the bathtub. That’s when you notice he put your towels to warm on the radiator, which instantly makes you smile. You wrap your hair with one and dry your body with the other. Thinking you might bleed around, you quickly leave the bedroom to find your clothes. 

While you are thinking if you should go for a pad or a tampon, you find your missing boyfriend in your bedroom. Your clothes are already chosen and set aside, your favorite pajamas waiting for you.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“A little better. The painkiller started to work its magic.” You walk towards your clothes to put them on as quickly as possible, still thinking about the blood.

Bucky quickly gets in your way. “No need to rush.”

“No, no, I really need to rush.” He gives you a look that makes you think he's confused. “I don’t have a tampon on. I will bleed on the floor.”

“And?” His tone is so carefree, it confuses you.

“And we will have to clean it, Bucky.” You state the obvious.

“Then we will clean it.” He makes things sound so natural, so casual. Like it’s the most normal thing on earth, but you are conditioned to think that you shouldn’t bleed around, that you should take care of any mess you make.

“You don’t wanna see that.”

“Maybe I do.” His answer comes instantly, surprising you.

“Believe me, you don’t.” You make a move in the direction of your clothes, but Bucky doesn’t let you.

“Bucky!” 

“Darling, I have been fighting for god knows how long. Do you think your period blood would disturb me?” His question sounds so genuine, you stop to think for a second. He has a point, but not really. It's a different kind of blood.

“I mean it’s not the same, is it?” 

“Yeah, it’s not.” The confirmation you expect finally comes. “I’m used to seeing blood caused by violence, not by nature.”

Wait, what?

You don’t know how to react to this. Of course, it is natural, but it is also torture and it makes a mess every time. A huge mess. Usually, your exes were disturbed by the idea, keeping a respectful distance while you were on your period, but apparently not Bucky. His fingers were already grazing your skin carefully. He looks into your eyes, asking for permission silently.

“I really don’t feel like it, Bucky.” You hate saying no to him, but the pain is still there. You are sure it will make things uncomfortable.

“I’m just asking for permission to touch you, doll. I’m not asking for anything else.” He keeps confusing you tonight. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just let me make you feel better.” His answer is simple, but not enough for you to understand his meaning. What does he mean by that?

“I think having you there now isn’t a great idea, Buck. I’m in pain and a little bit too sensitive.” You try to explain as simply as possible.

“Darling… There are other ways to make you feel better, or did you forget about those? Maybe I should remind you, huh?” Gosh, the smug smile creeping up his lips… It sends shivers down your spine. “Just lay down.” He gestures to the bed.

“I will blee–”

“Shh…” He doesn’t let you finish. “Just be a good girl and stop thinking too much.”

For fuck's sake… A good girl? He definitely knows how to shut your brain up. You slowly sit down on the bed and notice a big towel under you. He already thought about everything, so you won’t have to worry. So you can just enjoy this. If that’s what he wants, you can do that. You can shut your mind for a short while and try to enjoy yourself. 

As he lies down next to you, he turns his entire body in your direction and props himself up on his elbow. His flesh fingers start to caress your skin very lightly, making their way to the towel you wrapped around your body. 

“It is time to…” His fingers work quickly to undo the towel. “...take this off.”

He sounds somehow impatient. Maybe just to see you naked or hear the sounds you make while he touches you all the ways he knows you love. His fingers move to your nipple, fingertips grazing over carefully. As he touches you so lightly, another wave of goosebumps washes over you. It's not normal for you to be this sensitive, but your nipples are already hard. Your lips tremble as he moves closer and gives one a long lick.

“God, damn it.” You mutter and he instantly looks up.

“Should I stop?” The way he asks the question shows how concerned and focused he is.

“No, no.” You take a deep breath. “Just be gentle. I’m just…”

“Sensitive, I know.” He smiles and dives back in. His tongue swirls around your nipple over and over again until you start to cry out.

“Fuck!” That’s so unexpected. The pleasure you are feeling is foreign. Nipple play never felt like this before. “It feels so– so good.”

He moves his mouth away with a wet pop just to say: “Yes, surrender yourself to the feeling, darling.” Then he goes back to sucking your nipple, while his metal hand is massaging your other breast. It’s such an amazing change after feeling pain for hours and you can’t help but crave more. Your hips are rising unintentionally. Bucky’s flesh hand moves down to your body, sliding between your folds really carefully, but it makes you push your hips up again.

You've never felt this wet in your life. You are sure your period has a lot to do with it, but god… That’s not the only reason. The way he’s paying attention to your breasts, the way his index finger is working between your folds… It feels like magic. His fingers start rubbing on your clit and the next thing you know you're moaning his name over and over again. Whenever you moan, his tongue becomes more relentless around your nipple. The pleasure hits you suddenly, it takes your breath away.

“Buck–” Your back arches like a bow. “Oh my go–”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second. His fingers and tongue work you through your orgasm until you start to feel a little sensitive. You let a long breath out, proving how satisfied you feel.

Finally, he lets go of your nipple and looks up. Hair messed up, lips swollen and eyes glossy. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.” You breathe out again and it makes him smile widely. So fucking widely… “I feel great.” His hand rests on your pussy while his head is on your upper body. You lean down a little and he meets you in the middle in a messy kiss. God, his lips are the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. They're nearly sweet and just intoxicating.

You sigh loudly, feeling so much better than before. The pain is the last thing on your mind. You actually think about a possible second orgasm already and a little smile creeps up on your lips.

“What?” He asks wondering what you are thinking.

“I think I want a bit more.” 

“Oh, you do?” He is fully smirking now. You just nod while biting one side of your lower lip. “Would it be okay if I put my fingers inside? Would that be comfortable for you?”

“I hope so. We can try and if it’s uncomfortable, I'll tell you.”

“What a good girl you are.”

Before you can say anything in return, his fingers move a little down and he pushes one of them inside.

“Bucky!” The sudden pleasure catches you off guard.

“Sorry, sorry. I will go slow.” He moves himself a little bit up, just to be able to kiss you comfortably. You look at him and excitement is written all over his face. He’s actually enjoying this even though he isn’t getting off himself, and you love how your pleasure affects him. Licking your lips, you close the little distance between you two. 

He kisses you deeply while moving his finger in and out. He’s using just one, but dear god… you are so sensitive. It feels so good even though you aren’t completely filled. Slowly, he pushes the second finger inside, crooking them and rubbing them along a spot where you can see stars. Your mouth suddenly opens as you let out a loud moan. You are unable to kiss him back, it feels like your whole body just tensed up and your muscles stopped working.

“Yes! God, yes.” You manage to say while he keeps on working. “Just like that.”

“Don’t worry, doll.” He speeds up a little. “I won’t stop.”

He keeps working his fingers while kissing your neck. You can feel your second orgasm approaching and it feels so good, but also not enough.

“Please…” You beg without thinking. “Please…”

“Tell me what you want.” His voice sounds so deep, so full of desire.

“Faster. A little faster.” You take a deep breath. “I’m so– close.”

He doesn’t make you ask twice, just starting to move his fingers a little faster and that’s all it takes. 

“Bucky!” You scream so loudly that it surprises even you, but it’s too late to bite your lip. The overwhelming pleasure takes over, making you scream so loudly that Bucky thinks all your neighbors know what you are up to. And he doesn’t care. They should know he is the one making you feel this good. He is the one who makes you forget about your pain and mindlessly moan his name like a prayer.

When you come down from your high, you feel boneless. It’s like your whole body relaxed after the blinding pleasure. Maybe it’s the mixture of the orgasms and the painkiller you took, but you are too tired to care. 

While you stretch your arms, you notice Bucky isn’t next to you anymore. You look around to see where he went and he comes out of the bathroom with another towel in his hand.

“Looking for me?” God, his smile is so smug, but you can’t blame him. The way you just screamed his name without having his cock inside you… That must have boosted his ego. Rightfully so. His fingers are magical. And his tongue. Also his lips. The way he turns you on so much and pulls this pleasure out of you is unbelievable.

“Yes. Why did you leave me?” You know he didn’t but you like to play.

“Just got a wet towel for you.” He kneels in front of the bed, between your legs and you prop up on your elbows to see what he’s doing. He gently moves the towel on your thighs and wipes the blood he smeared while making you scream his name.

“I could clean myself. You didn’t have to.” 

“I know you can, doll. Nobody said you can’t.” He rubs the towel against your slit and you jump a little, feeling sensitive. He notices your reaction and tries to do it more carefully. “I just want to help you.” After he’s done wiping, he folds the towel and puts it away. Immediately after, he grabs your clothes and helps you get dressed: your underwear first (and no, he did not forget about the pads), then your pajamas. In a couple of seconds, you're clean and all dressed up. “Now it’s time to rest.”

You move backward and get under the covers while watching him collect the towels all over the room and put them in the dirty laundry bin. It amazes you how he doesn’t forget about anything. He doesn’t let any small detail bother or worry you. You hear him washing his hands and he comes back with a smile on his face. 

You don’t know how you got this lucky. Having a loving and caring boyfriend like him… Getting taken care of like this… You remember how your friends talk about their boyfriends and how they do absolutely nothing. You know that’s not how a relationship should be, but you also know how rare this is. Your eyes wander back to him while he is getting undressed, showing you how incredibly hard he is. Yet he didn’t even make a move to relieve himself. He didn’t ask for a hand or begged to be inside you like he does sometimes. He put you first and unfortunately that’s even rarer.

He quickly puts on his pajamas and slips right next to you in bed. His arms are already around your waist, pulling you closer. You carefully move your hand down and palm his still rock-hard erection.

“Nope.” His answer is simple yet firm.

“Let me take care of you, Bucky.” You try to say as sweetly as possible. You want to return the favor.

“Not tonight, darling.” He gently moves your hand away. “But I promise, you can do whatever you want to me when you feel better, alright?”

“Alright.” He’s right. You are feeling sleepy already, you can do this another time. 

After all, you are his and he is yours. You have all the time in the world.

He pulls you even closer, putting his head on your shoulder behind your back.

“It’s time to sleep.”

“I love you Bucky.” You say while feeling the weight on your eyelids. It’s hard to keep them open.

“I love you too, darling.”

[angel-of-the-moons]

I'm back again since it's been about a month since I last requested. I hope you don't mind me asking another story. So I was thinking of another Hobie one. There is honestly not enough stories about him and I love the way you write him. I was thinking of a more fluff type thing or possibly head cannons. You decide. Regardless about living with Hobie or just spending some downtime with him. Just a chill little thing I wanted to put out there. Thank you. I love your works and appreciate you 😘

Ilysm!!! I am sorry these asks have been rotting in my inbox! I'm finally working on them!!!

Ice Cream

Hobie Brown x Reader

TW/CW: Marijuana usage

Hobie is obviously aged-up in this

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

• When Hobie isn't rocking out with his band at pubs, or fighting the regime™ or working to save the multiverse with the Old Man, he's at home with you.

• He often slips into the window because he refuses to use the front door like a normal person (even if you live on the fifth floor)

• Hobie would find you wherever you were, on the couch, in the kitchen, in bed or in the bathroom; and would immediately wrap his lanky arms around you and breathe deep and relax every muscle in his body

• "Where've you been?" You tease, easing his spiked vest off his stiffened shoulders.

• "Dealin' with the Old Man and his nonstop bitchin'." Hobie said, clicking his tongue, leaning over to rest his chin on the top of your head, holding you against him once more as you carefully ease the rest of his punk paraphernalia off of his person.

• You lead him to the bed, and pull him down on top of you, using your remote to turn on the sound system, playing some of his favorite music tracks on a low volume for background noise

• "You're a goddamn angel, y'know that, luv?" Hobie sighed, closing his eyes as he listens to the soft patter of your heartbeat

• "Mmh, I try." You chuckle, your fingers idly fluffing his wicks and toying with them as you feel his breathing even out

• And in no time, he's out like a light, sprawled out over you like a lanky starfish

• Forget moving this man, despite his thin physique he somehow finds the magic in him to weigh as much as his old, beat-up van

• You're stuck in bed, so the only thing left to do is give in and join him for a nap

• When you two wake up, you work on your usual routine.

• Hobie helps cook, making homemade chips while you batter and bake some fresh chicken

• Once your lunch/dinner is finished, you both cuddle on the sofa and watch some shitty movie on your telly

• He 100% has gutter humor, as well as a perverted sense of one

• Is also very big into physical humor. I'm talking shoving tissues into his nose and pretending to be a walrus kind of physical humor. Whatever it takes to hear you laugh

• Totally plays his guitar for you, singing punk versions of almost any kind of song (except American country. That shite is a travesty upon the music industry!)

• Will often split his pot with you, either rolling joints or using a bong, he'll always offer you a hit if you need or want it

• If you can't handle it, he'll FaceTime you while he smokes on the roof. That way, you're still together and he isn't negatively affecting your health/personal preferences with his smoking

• If you're sick, Hobie will full on hit the breaks to whatever he's doing to take care of you (provided it's a possibility that he can do that)

• This includes sending a selfie with a middle finger to Miguel telling him to not bug him til you're better

• 100% a master at making simple comfort foods when you're sick. Cheese toasties, chicken noodle soup, vegetable soup, even homemade ice cream. He does it all for you

• Runs you a nice hot bath with some eucalyptus and Epsom salts to help your sore muscles and clear sinuses

• If you're nauseous, he'll put peppermint oil in the water with you and run to the market for some ginger pop to ease your stomach, maybe some ginger root tea while he's at it

• Will also buy you some of your favorite digestives just to make sure you get something solid in your tummy

• Will totally fake threaten you about blabbing to anyone about his "secret soft side" and "ruining his image"

• Everyone already knows, he's just blind as hell and doesn't notice lmao

• This man is 100% loyal. If any gal/pal/guy flirts with him, he will flat out shoot em down

• "Nah, mate. I already got the best partner in crime a guy like me could ever ask for. Nobody c'n compare to that!"

• Always makes sure he never worries you (or at least tries to)

• If Hobie is sick or hurt, positions are reversed and you become his personal nurse

• Totally doesn't pretend to be sick sometimes just so you'll spoil him

• You know he's full of shit when he does though, but you just humor him because he's cute about it

• Yeah, you both put up with each other's shit, but you'd never have it any other way

• However... Hobie definitely knows when he's in trouble.

• "Hobart Brown!" You'd shout.

• Yeah, Hobie could easily feel his blood chill when you use his government name

[confetti-cat]

Twelve, Thirteen, and One

Words: 6k

Rating: G

Themes: Friendship, Self-Giving Love

(Written for the Four Loves Fairytale Retelling Challenge over at the @inklings-challenge! A Cinderella retelling feat. curious critters and a lot of friendship.)

When the clock chimes midnight on that third evening, thirteen creatures look to the girl who showed them all kindness.

—

It’s hours after dark, again, and the human girl still sleeps in the ashes.

The mice notice this—though it happens so often that they’ve ceased to pay attention to her. She smells like everything else in the hearth: ashy and overworked, tinged with the faint smell of herbs from the kitchen.

When she moves or shifts in her sleep (uncomfortable sleep—even they can sense the exhaustion in her posture as she sits slumped against the wall, more willing to seep up warmth from the stone than lie cold elsewhere this time of year), they simply scurry around her and continue combing for crumbs and seeds. They’d found a feast of lentils scattered about once, and many other times, the girl had beckoned them softly to her hand, where she’d held a little chunk of brown bread.

Tonight, she has nothing. They don’t mind—though three of them still come to sniff her limp hand where it lies drooped against the side of her tattered dress.

A fourth one places a little clawed hand on the side of her finger, leaning over it to investigate her palm for any sign of food.

When she stirs, it’s to the sensation of a furry brown mouse sitting in her palm.

It can feel the flickering of her muscles as she wakes—feeling slowly returning to her body. To her credit, she cracks her eyes open and merely observes it.

They’re all but tame by now. The Harsh-Mistress and the Shrieking-Girl and the Angry-Girl are to be avoided like the plague never was, but this girl—the Cinder-Girl, they think of her—is gentle and kind.

Even as she shifts a bit and they hear the dull crack of her joints, they’re too busy to mind. Some finding a few buried peas (there were always some peas or lentils still hidden here, if they looked carefully), some giving themselves an impromptu bath to wash off the dust. The one sitting on her hand is doing the latter, fur fluffed up as it scratches one ear and then scrubs tirelessly over its face with both paws.

One looks up from where it’s discovered a stray pea to check her expression.

A warm little smile has crept up her face, weary and dirty and sore as she seems to be. She stays very still in her awkward half-curl against stone, watching the mouse in her hand groom itself. The tender look about her far overwhelms—melts, even—the traces of tension in her tired limbs.

Very slowly, so much so that they really aren’t bothered by it, she raises her spare hand and begins lightly smearing the soot away from her eyes with the back of her wrist.

The mouse in her palm gives her an odd look for the movement, but has discovered her skin is warmer than the cold stone floor or the ash around the dying fire. It pads around in a circle once, then nudges its nose against her calloused skin, settling down for a moment.

The Cinder-Girl has closed her eyes again, and drops her other hand into her lap, slumping further against the wall. Her smile has grown even warmer, if sadder.

They decide she’s quite safe. Very friendly.

—

The old rat makes his rounds at the usual times of night, shuffling through a passage that leads from the ground all the way up to the attic.

When both gold sticks on the clocks’ moonlike faces point upward, there’s a faint chime from the tower-clock downstairs. He used to worry that the sound would rouse the humans. Now, he ignores it and goes about his business.

There’s a great treasury of old straw in the attic. It’s inside a large sack—and while this one doesn’t have corn or wheat like the ones near the kitchen sometimes do, he knows how to chew it open all the same.

The girl sleeps on this sack of straw, though she doesn’t seem to mind what he takes from it. There’s enough more of it to fill a hundred rat’s nests, so he supposes she doesn’t feel the difference.

Tonight, though—perhaps he’s a bit too loud in his chewing and tearing. The girl sits up slowly in bed, and he stiffens, teeth still sunk into a bit of the fabric.

“Oh.” says the girl. She smiles—and though the expression should seem threatening, all pulled mouth-corners and teeth, he feels the gentleness in her posture and wonders at novel thoughts of differing body languages. “Hello again. Do you need more straw?”

He isn’t sure what the sounds mean, but they remind him of the soft whuffles and squeaks of his siblings when they were small. Inquisitive, unafraid. Not direct or confrontational.

She’s seemed safe enough so far—almost like the woman in white and silver-gold he’s seen here sometimes, marveling at his own confidence in her safeness—so he does what signals not-afraid the best to his kind. He glances her over, twitches his whiskers briefly, and goes back to what he was doing.

Some of the straw is too big and rough, some too small and fine. He scratches a bundle out into a pile so he can shuffle through it. It’s true he doesn’t need much, but the chill of winter hasn’t left the world yet.

The girl laughs. The sound is soft and small. It reminds him again of young, friendly, peaceable.

“Take as much as you need,” she whispers. Her movements are unassuming when she reaches for something on the old wooden crate she uses as a bedside table. With something in hand, she leans against the wall her bed is a tunnel’s-width from, and offers him what she holds. “Would you like this?”

He peers at it in the dark, whiskers twitching. His eyesight isn’t the best, so he finds himself drawing closer to sniff at what she has.

It’s a feather. White and curled a bit, like the goose-down he’d once pulled out the corner of a spare pillow long ago. Soft and long, fluffy and warm.

He touches his nose to it—then, with a glance upward at her softly-smiling face, takes it in his teeth.

It makes him look like he has a mustache, and is a bit too big to fit through his hole easily. The girl giggles behind him as he leaves.

—

There’s a human out in the gardens again. Which is strange—this is a place for lizards, maybe birds and certainly bugs. Not for people, in his opinion. She’s not dressed in venomous bright colors like the other humans often are, but neither does she stay to the manicured garden path the way they do.

She doesn’t smell like unnatural rotten roses, either. A welcome change from having to dart for cover at not just the motions, but the stenches that accompany the others that appear from time to time.

This human is behind the border-shubs, beating an ornate rug that hangs over the fence with a home-tied broom. Huge clouds of dust shake from it with each hit, settling in a thin film on the leaves and grass around her.

She stops for a moment to press her palm to her forehead, then turns over her shoulder and coughs into her arm.

When she begins again, it’s with a sharp WHOP.

He jumps a bit, but only on instinct. However—

A few feet from where he settles back atop the sunning-rock, there’s a scuffle and a sharp splash. Then thrashing—waster swashing about with little churns and splishes.

It’s not the way of lizards to think of doing anything when one falls into the water. There were several basins for fish and to catch water off the roof for the garden—they simply had to not fall into them, not drown. There was little recourse for if they did. What could another lizard do, really? Fall in after them? Best to let them try to climb out if they could.

The girl hears the splashing. She stares at the water pot for a moment.

Then, she places her broom carefully on the ground and comes closer.

Closer. His heart speeds up. He skitters to the safety of a plant with low-hanging leaves—

—and then watches as she walks past his hiding place, peers into the basin, and reaches in.

Her hand comes up dripping wet, a very startled lizard still as a statue clinging to her fingers.

“Are you the same one I always find here?” she asks with a chiding little smile. “Or do all of you enjoy swimming?”

When she places her hand on the soft spring grass, the lizard darts off of it and into the underbrush. It doesn’t go as far as it could, though—something about this girl makes both of them want to stand still and wait for what she’ll do next.

The girl just watches it go. She lets out a strange sound—a weary laugh, perhaps—and turns back to her peculiar chore.

—

A song trails through the old house—under the floorboards—through the walls—into the garden, beneath the undergrowth—and lures them out of hiding.

It isn’t an audible song, not like that of the birds in the summer trees or the ashen-girl murmuring beautiful sounds to herself in the lonely hours. This one was silent. Yet, it reached deep down into their souls and said come out, please—the one who helped you needs your help.

It didn’t require any thought, no more than eat or sleep or run did.

In chains of silver and grey, all the mice who hear it converge, twenty-four tiny feet pattering along the wood in the walls. The rat joins them, but they are not afraid.

When they emerge from a hole out into the open air, the soft slip-slap of more feet surround them. Six lizards scurry from the bushes, some gleaming wet as if they’d just escaped the water trough or run through the birdbath themselves.

As a strange little hoard, they approach the kind girl. Beside her is a tall woman wearing white and silver and gold.

The girl—holding a large, round pumpkin—looks surprised to see them here. The woman is smiling.

“Set the pumpkin on the drive,” the woman says, a soft gleam in her eye. “The rest of you, line up, please.”

Bemused, but with a heartbeat fast enough for them to notice, the girl gingerly places the pumpkin on the stone of the drive. It’s natural for them, somehow, to follow—the mice line in pairs in front of it, the rat hops on top of it, and the lizards all stand beside.

“What are they doing?” asks the girl—and there’s curiosity and gingerness in her tone, like she doesn’t believe such a sight is wrong, but is worried it might be.

The older woman laughs kindly, and a feeling like blinking hard comes over the world.

It’s then—then, in that flash of darkness that turns to dazzling light, that something about them changes.

“Oh!” exclaims the girl, and they open their eyes. “Oh! They’re—“

They’re different.

The mice aren’t mice at all—and suddenly they wonder if they ever were, or if it was an odd dream.

They’re horses, steel grey and sleek-haired with with silky brown manes and tails. Their harnesses are ornate and stylish, their hooves polished and dark.

Instead of a rat, there’s a stout man in fine livery, with whiskers dark and smart as ever. He wears a fine cap with a familiar white feather, and the gleam in his eye is surprised.

“Well,” he says, examining his hands and the cuffs of his sleeves, “I suppose I won’t be wanting for adventure now.”

Instead of six lizards, six footmen stand at attention, their ivory jackets shining in the late afternoon sun.

The girl herself is different, though she’s still human—her hair is done up beautifully in the latest fashion, and instead of tattered grey she wears a shimmering dress of lovely pale green, inlaid with a design that only on close inspection is flowers.

“They are under your charge, now,” says the woman in white, stepping back and folding her hands together. “It is your responsibility to return before the clock strikes midnight—when that happens, the magic will be undone. Understood?”

“Yes,” says the girl breathlessly. She stares at them as if she’s been given the most priceless gift in all the world. “Oh, thank you.”

—

The castle is decorated brilliantly. Flowery garlands hang from every parapet, beautiful vines sprawling against walls and over archways as they climb. Dozens of picturesque lanterns hang from the walls, ready to be lit once the sky grows dark.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the castle,” the girl says, standing one step out of the carriage and looking so awed she seems happy not to go any further. “Father and I used to drive by it sometimes. But it never looked so lovely as this.”

“Shall we accompany you in, milady?” asks one of the footmen. They’re all nearly identical, though this one has freckles where he once had dark flecks in his scales.

She hesitates for only a moment, looking up at the pinnacles of the castle towers. Then, she shakes her head, and turns to look at them all with a smile like the sun.

“I think I’ll go in myself,” she says. “I’m not sure what is custom. But thank you—thank you so very much.”

And so they watch her go—stepping carefully in her radiant dress that looked lovelier than any queen’s.

Though she was not royal, it seemed there was no doubt in anyone’s minds that she was. The guards posted at the door opened it for her without question.

With a last smile over her shoulder, she stepped inside.

—

He's straightening the horses' trappings for the fifth time when the doors to the castle open, and out hurries a figure. It takes him a moment to recognize her, garbed in rich fabrics and cloaked in shadows, but it's the girl, rushing out to the gilded carriage. A footman steps forward and offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully as she steps up into the seat.

“Enjoyable evening, milady?” asks the coachman. His whiskers are raised above the corners of his mouth, and his twinkling eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Yes, quite, thank you!” she breathes in a single huff. She smooths her dress the best she can before looking at him with some urgency. “The clock just struck quarter till—will you be able to get us home?”

The gentle woman in white had said they only would remain in such states until midnight. How long was it until the middle of night? What was a quarter? Surely darkness would last for far more hours than it had already—it couldn’t be close. Yet it seemed as though it must be; the princesslike girl in the carriage sounded worried it would catch them at any moment.

“I will do all I can,” he promises, and with a sharp rap of the reins, they’re off at a swift pace.

They arrive with minutes to spare. He knows this because after she helps him down from the carriage (...wait. That should have been the other way around! He makes mental note for next time: it should be him helping her down. If he can manage it. She’s fast), she takes one of those minutes to show him how his new pocketwatch works.

He’s fascinated already. There’s a part of him that wonders if he’ll remember how to tell time when he’s a rat again—or will this, all of this, be forgotten?

The woman in white is there beside the drive, and she’s already smiling. A knowing gleam lights her eye.

“Well, how was the ball?” she asks, as Cinder-Girl turns to face her with the most elated expression. “I hear the prince is looking for fair maidens. Did he speak with you?”

The girl rushes to grasp the woman’s hands in hers, clasping them gratefully and beaming up at her.

“It was lovely! I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” she all but gushes, her smile brighter and broader than they’d ever seen it. “The castle is beautiful; it feels so alive and warm. And yes, I met the Prince—although hush, he certainly isn’t looking for me—he’s so kind. I very much enjoyed speaking with him. He asked me to dance, too; I had as wonderful a time as he seemed to. Thank you! Thank you dearly.”

The woman laughs gently. It isn’t a laugh one would describe as warm, but neither is it cold in the sense some laughs can be—it's soft and beautiful, almost crystalline.

“That’s wonderful. Now, up to bed! You’ve made it before midnight, but your sisters will be returning soon.”

“Yes! Of course,” she replies eagerly—turning to smile gratefully at coachman and stroke the nearest horses on their noses and shoulders, then curtsy to the footmen. “Thank you all, very much. I could not ask for a more lovely company.”

It’s a strange moment when all of their new hearts swell with warmth and affection for this girl—and then the world darkens and lightens so quickly they feel as though they’ve fallen asleep and woken up.

They’re them again—six mice, six lizards, a rat, and a pumpkin. And a tattered gray dress.

“Please, would you let me go again tomorrow? The ball will last three days. I had such a wonderful time.”

“Come,” the woman said simply, “and place the pumpkin beneath the bushes.”

The woman in white led the way back to the house, followed by an air-footed girl and a train of tiny critters. There was another silent song in the air, and they thought perhaps the girl could hear it too: one that said yes—but get to bed!

—

The second evening, when the door of the house thuds shut and the hoofsteps of the family’s carriage fade out of hearing, the rat peeks out of a hole in the kitchen corner to see the Cinder-Girl leap to her feet.

She leans close to the window and watched for more minutes than he quite understands—or maybe he does; it was good to be sure all cats had left before coming out into the open—and then runs with a spring in her step to the back door near the kitchen.

Ever so faintly, like music, the woman’s laughter echoes faintly from outside. Drawn to it like he had been drawn to the silent song, the rat scurries back through the labyrinth of the walls.

When he hurries out onto the lawn, the mice and lizards are already there, looking up at the two humans expectantly. This time, the Cinder-Girl looks at them and smiles broadly.

“Hello, all. So—how do you do it?” she asks the woman. Her eyes shine with eager curiosity. “I had no idea you could do such a thing. How does it work?”

The woman fixes her with a look of fond mock-sternness. “If I were to explain to you the details of how, I’d have to tell you why and whom, and you’d be here long enough to miss the royal ball.” She waves her hands she speaks. “And then you’d be very much in trouble for knowing far more than you ought.”

The rat misses the girl’s response, because the world blinks again—and now all of them once again are different. Limbs are long and slender, paws are hooves with silver shoes or feet in polished boots.

The mouse-horses mouth at their bits as they glance back at the carriage and the assortment of humans now standing by it. The footmen are dressed in deep navy this time, and the girl wears a dress as blue as the summer sky, adorned with brilliant silver stars.

“Remember—“ says the woman, watching fondly as the Cinder-Girl steps into the carriage in a whorl of beautiful silk. “Return before midnight, before the magic disappears.”

“Yes, Godmother,” she calls, voice even more joyful than the previous night. “Thank you!”

—

The castle is just as glorious as before—and the crowd within it has grown. Noblemen and women, royals and servants, and the prince himself all mill about in the grand ballroom.

He’s unsure of the etiquette, but it seems best for her not to enter alone. Once he escorts her in, the coachman bows and watches for a moment—the crowd is hushed again, taken by her beauty and how important they think her to be—and then returns to the carriage outside.

He isn’t required in the ballroom for much of the night—but he tends to the horses and checks his pocketwatch studiously, everything in him wishing to be the best coachman that ever once was a rat.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be hard. He’d raise the bar, then. The best coachman that ever drove for a princess.

Because that was what she was—or, that was what he heard dozens of hushed whispers about once she’d entered the ball. Every noble and royal and servant saw her and deemed her a grand princess nobody knew from a land far away. The prince himself stared at her in a marveling way that indicated he thought no differently.

It was a thing more wondrous than he had practice thinking. If a mouse could become a horse or a rat could become a coachman, couldn’t a kitchen-girl become a princess?

The answer was yes, it seemed—perhaps in more ways than one.

She had rushed out with surprising grace just before midnight. They took off quickly, and she kept looking back toward the castle door, as if worried—but she was smiling.

“Did you know the Prince is very nice?” she asks once they’re safely home, and she’s stepped down (drat) without help again. The woman in white stands on her same place beside the drive, and when Cinder-Girl sees her, she waves with dainty grace that clearly holds a vibrant energy and sheer thankfulness behind it. “I’ve never known what it felt like to be understood. He thinks like I do.”

“How is that?” asks the woman, quirking an amused brow. “And if I might ask, how do you know?”

“Because he mentions things first.” The girl tries to smother some of the wideness of her smile, but can’t quite do so. “And I've shared his thoughts for a long time. That he loves his father, and thinks oranges and citrons are nice for festivities especially, and that he’s always wanted to go out someday and do something new.”

—

The third evening, the clouds were dense and a few droplets of rain splattered the carriage as they arrived.

“Looks like rain, milady,” said the coachman as she disembarked to stand on water-spotted stone. “If it doesn’t blow by, we’ll come for ye at the steps, if it pleases you.”

“Certainly—thank you,” she replies, all gleaming eyes and barely-smothered smiles. How her excitement to come can increase is beyond them—but she seems more so with each night that passes.

She has hardly turned to head for the door when a smattering of rain drizzles heavily on them all. She flinches slightly, already running her palms over the skirt of her dress to rub out the spots of water.

Her golden dress glisters even in the cloudy light, and doesn’t seem to show the spots much. Still, it’s hardy an ideal thing.

“One of you hold the parasol—quick about it, now—and escort her inside,” the coachman says quickly. The nearest footman jumps into action, hop-reaching into the carriage and falling back down with the umbrella in hand, unfolding it as he lands. “Wait about in case she needs anything.”

The parasol is small and not meant for this sort of weather, but it's enough for the moment. The pair of them dash for the door, the horses chomping and stamping behind them until they’re driven beneath the bows of a huge tree.

The footman knows his duty the way a lizard knows to run from danger. He achieves it the same way—by slipping off to become invisible, melting into the many people who stood against the golden walls.

From there, he watches.

It’s so strange to see the way the prince and their princess gravitate to each other. The prince’s attention seems impossible to drag away from her, though not for many’s lack of trying.

Likewise—more so than he would have thought, though perhaps he’s a bit slow in noticing—her focus is wholly on the prince for long minutes at a time.

Her attention is always divided a bit whenever she admires the interior of the castle, the many people and glamorous dresses in the crowd, the vibrant tables of food. It’s all very new to her, and he’s not certain it doesn’t show. But the Prince seems enamored by her delight in everything—if he thinks it odd, he certainly doesn’t let on.

They talk and laugh and sample fine foods and talk to other guests together, then they turn their heads toward where the musicians are starting up and smile softly when they meet each other’s eyes. The Prince offers a hand, which is accepted and clasped gleefully.

Then, they dance.

Their motions are so smooth and light-footed that many of the crowd forgo dancing, because admiring them is more enjoyable. They’re in-sync, back and forth like slow ripples on a pond. They sometimes look around them—but not often, especially compared to how long they gaze at each other with poorly-veiled, elated smiles.

The night whirls on in flares of gold tulle and maroon velvet, ivory, carnelian, and emerald silks, the crowd a nonstop blur of color.

(Color. New to him, that. Improved vision was wonderful.)

The clock strikes eleven, but there’s still time, and he’s fairly certain he won’t be able to convince the girl to leave anytime before midnight draws near.

He was a lizard until very recently. He’s not the best at judging time, yet. Midnight does draw near, but he’s not sure he understands how near.

The clock doesn’t quite say up-up. So he still has time. When the rain drums ceaselessly outside, he darts out and runs in a well-practiced way to find their carriage.

—

Another of the footmen comes in quickly, having been sent in a rush by the coachman, who had tried to keep his pocketwatch dry just a bit too long. He’s soaking wet from the downpour when he steps close enough to get her attention.

She sees him, notices this, and—with a glimmer of recognition and amusement in her eyes—laughs softly into her hand.

ONE—TWO— the clock starts. His heart speeds up terribly, and his skin feels cold. He suddenly craves a sunny rock.

“Um,” he begins awkwardly. Lizards didn’t have much in the way of a vocal language. He bows quickly, and water drips off his face and hat and onto the floor. “The chimes, milady.”

THREE—FOUR—

Perhaps she thought it was only eleven. Her face pales. “Oh.”

FIVE—SIX—

Like a deer, she leaps from the prince’s side and only manages a stumbling, backward stride as she curtsies in an attempt at a polite goodbye.

“Thank you, I must go—“ she says, and then she’s racing alongside the footman as fast as they both can go. The crowd parts for them just enough, amidst loud murmurs of surprise.

SEVEN—EIGHT—

“Wait!” calls the prince, but they don’t. Which hopefully isn’t grounds for arrest, the footman idly thinks.

They burst through the door and out into the open air.

NINE—TEN—

It has been storming. The rain is crashing down in torrents—the walkways and steps are flooded with a firm rush of water.

She steps in a crevice she couldn’t see, the water washes over her feet, and she stumbles, slipping right out of one shoe. There’s noise at the door behind them, so she doesn’t stop or even hesitate. She runs at a hobble and all but dives through the open carriage door. The awaiting footman quickly closes it, and they’re all grasping quickly to their riding-places at the corners of the vehicle.

ELEVEN—

A flash of lightning coats the horses in white, despite the dark water that’s soaked into their coats, and with a crack of the rains and thunder they take off at a swift run.

There’s shouting behind them—the prince—as people run out and call to the departing princess.

TWELVE.

Mist swallows them up, so thick they can’t hear or see the castle, but the horses know the way.

The castle’s clock tower must have been ever-so-slightly fast. (Does magic tell truer time?) Their escape works for a few thundering strides down the invisible, cloud-drenched road—until true midnight strikes a few moments later.

—

She walks home in the rain and fog, following a white pinprick of light she can guess the source of—all the while carrying a hollow pumpkin full of lizards, with an apron pocket full of mice and a rat perched on her shoulder.

It’s quite the walk.

—

The prince makes a declaration so grand that the mice do not understand it. The rat—a bit different now—tells them most things are that way to mice, but he’s glad to explain.

The prince wants to find the girl who wore the golden slipper left on the steps, he relates. He doesn’t want to ask any other to marry him, he loved her company so.

The mice think that’s a bit silly. Concerning, even. What if he does find her? There won’t be anyone to secretly leave seeds in the ashes or sneak them bread crusts when no humans are looking.

The rat thinks they’re being silly and that they’ve become too dependent on handouts. Back in his day, rodents worked for their food. Chewing open a bag of seed was an honest day’s work for its wages.

Besides, he confides, as he looks again out the peep-hole they’ve discovered in the floor trim of the parlor. You’re being self-interested, if you ask me. Don’t you want our princess to find a good mate, and live somewhere spacious and comfortable, free of human-cats, where she’d finally have plenty to eat?

It’s hard to make a mouse look appropriately chastised, but that question comes close. They shuffle back a bit to let him look out at the strange proceedings in the parlor again.

There are many humans there. The Harsh-Mistress stands tall and rigid at the back of one of the parlor chairs, exchanging curt words with a strange man in fine clothes with a funny hat. Shrieking-Girl and Angry-Girl stand close, scoffing and laughing, looking appalled.

Cinder-Girl sits on the chair that’s been pulled to the middle of the room. She extends her foot toward a strange golden object on a large cushion.

The shoe, the rat notes so the mice can follow. They can’t quite see it from here—poor eyesight and all.

Of course, the girl’s foot fits perfectly well into her own shoe. They all saw that coming.

Evidently, the humans did not. There’s absolute uproar.

“There is no possible way she’s the princess you’re looking for!” declares Harsh-Mistress, her voice full of rage. “She’s a kitchen maid. Nothing royal about her.”

“How dare you!” Angry-Girl rages. “Why does it fit you? Why not us?”

“You sneak!” shrieks none other than Shrieking-Girl. “Mother, she snuck to the ball! She must have used magic, somehow! Princes won’t marry sneaks, will they?”

“I think they might,” says a calm voice from the doorway, and the uproar stops immediately.

The Prince steps in. He stares at Cinder-Girl.

She stares back. Her face is still smudged with soot, and her dress is her old one, gray and tattered. The golden slipper gleams on her foot, having fit as only something molded or magic could.

A blush colors her face beneath the ash and she leaps up to do courtesy. “Your Highness.”

The Prince glances at the messenger-man with the slipper-pillow and the funny hat. The man nods seriously.

The Prince blinks at this, as if he wasn’t really asking anything with his look—it’s already clear he recognizes her—and meets Cinder-Girl’s gaze with a smile. It’s the same half-nervous, half-attemptingly-charming smile as he kept giving her at the ball.

He bows to her and offers a hand. (The rat has to push three mice out of the way to maintain his view.)

“It’s my honor,” he assures her. “Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the castle? I’d had a question in mind, but it seems there are—“ he glances at Harsh-Mistress, who looks like a very upset rat in a mousetrap. “—situations we might discuss remedying. You’d be a most welcome guest in my father’s house, if you’d be amenable to it?”

It’s all so much more strange and unusual than anything the creatures of the house are used to seeing. They almost don’t hear it, at first—that silent song.

It grows stronger, though, and they turn their heads toward it with an odd hope in their hearts.

—

The ride to the castle is almost as strange as that prior walk back. The reasons for this are such:

One—their princess is riding in their golden carriage alongside the prince, and their chatter and awkward laughter fills the surrounding spring air. They have a good feeling about the prince, now, if they didn’t already. He can certainly take things in stride, and he is no respecter of persons. He seems just as elated to be by her side as he was at the ball, even with the added surprise of where she'd come from.

Two—they have been transformed again, and the woman in white has asked them a single question: Would you choose to stay this way?

The coachman said yes without a second thought. He’d always wanted life to be more fulfilling, he confided—and this seemed a certain path to achieving that.

The footmen might not have said yes, but there was something to be said for recently-acquired cognition. It seemed—strange, to be human, but the thought of turning back into lizards had the odd feeling of being a poor choice. Baffled by this new instinct, they said yes.

The horses, of course, said things like whuff and nyiiiehuhum, grumph. The woman seemed to understand, though. She touched one horse on the nose and told it it would be the castle’s happiest mouse once the carriage reached its destination. The others, it seemed, enjoyed their new stature.

And three—they are heading toward a castle, where they have all been offered a fine place to live. The Prince explains that he doesn’t wish for such a kind girl to live in such conditions anymore. There’s no talk of anyone marrying—just discussions of rooms and favorite foods and of course, you’ll have the finest chicken pie anytime you’d like and I can’t have others make it for me! Lend me the kitchens and I’ll make some for you; I have a very dear recipe. Perhaps you can help. (Followed in short order by a ...Certainly, but I’d—um, I’d embarrass myself trying to cook. You would teach me? and a gentle laugh that brightened the souls of all who could hear it.)

“If you’d be amenable to it,” she replies—and in clear, if surprised, agreement, the Prince truly, warmly laughs.

“Milady,” the coachman calls down to them. “Your Highness. We’re here.”

The castle stands shining amber-gold in the light of the setting sun. It will be the fourth night they’ve come here—the thirteen of them and the one of her—but midnight, they realize, will not break the spell ever again.

One by one, they disembark from the carriage. If it will stay as it is or turn back into a pumpkin, they hadn't thought to ask. There’s so much warmth swelling in their hearts that they don’t think it matters.

The girl, their princess, smiles—a dear, true smile, tentative in the face of a brand new world, but bright with hope—and suddenly, they’re all smiling too.

She steps forward, and they follow. The prince falls into step with her and offers an arm, and their glances at each other are brimming with light as she accepts.

With her arm in the arm of the prince, a small crowd of footmen and the coachman trailing behind, and a single grey mouse on her shoulder, the once-Cinder-Girl walks once again toward the palace door.

[scavengerssuccotash]

What does aftercare look like for Clint and Nat?

Depends on what kind of aftercare you’re looking for, my dear.

Was it a rough mission that left their bodies sore and aching?

If that’s the case they soothe each other’s sore muscles away in a variety of ways. For Natasha the bulk of her sore muscles rests in her thighs and legs. Clint with usually draw her a nice hot bath with some soaking salts (lavender scented) and let her decompress. Sometimes he’ll join her, especially if his back is hurting, but most times he just lets her rest in the bath and play errand boy if she needs something. Afterwards, Natasha will curl up with him on the couch with her feet in his lap so he can rub them. And oh god! His hands? If Natasha were religious his hands is the closest thing to making her believe in a god. About the time he works his way up her calves, she’s limp against the arm of the couch and almost asleep.

Clint on the other hand carries most of his stress in his shoulders and arms. (Clint often jokes that if you put the two of them together, her legs and his upper body, they could qualify for a retirement community by the state of their joints alone.) With that said, baths hardly touch the ache in his shoulders. Showers are his go-to, along with icy-hot and Natasha’s own bone melting masseuse skills. Repetition with the draw weight he’s got might’ve given him great definition but it also aged his rotator cuffs and shoulder blade ten years. After a long hot shower, you can find him sitting on the floor between Natasha’s legs with an ice pack on each shoulder as she rubs his neck.

Or are you looking for the tumble between the sheets kind of aftercare?

In which case this came to them with much more difficulty than it did with the other kind. Particularly for Natasha. Any wonder why? The first few times they slide between the sheets, Natasha would jump out of bed, quickly throw on her clothes and leave while Clint just laid in bed still coming down from his post coital high, dazed and ultimately confused. In hindsight, Natasha’s sudden departure after taught Clint a lot about himself. Namely: how much he really did like and need the after romp cuddling. Be it some internalized misogyny, or a lack of self introspection Clint had just assumed that is what you did with your partner, so…he did it and didn’t look into it any deeper than the surface level. Turns out it just took Natasha leaving him high and dry (wet?) for him to realize that, “actually no, I think I like the cuddling!?”

Conversely Natasha dipped because she had wanted to stay, which was in of itself a terrifying epiphany to have after what she’ll testify to is the best sex ever. It was all too much too fast and god she can’t do this?! Can she? She wants to, but…

In the end it took three months, a couple of drunken blurt out your feelings kind of nights, and a close call in Mumbai for them to get on the same page.

For Clint to say, “I need to a place to land after soaring that high, Nat. I drop like a fucking stone, and it’s not a good feeling!”

And for Nat to say, “I don’t know what to do with all this, I wasn’t trained on what to do if I actually fell!”

“No one gets a manual, Tasha. You just do what feels right.”

“Us. That feels right.”

Natasha relaxes into their after sex cuddle sessions a little bit better after this. She still leaves after, only spending the nights when they drink and she doesn’t want to drive or bother with a taxi or public transport, but she stops leaving right away. She lingers long enough for Clint to be on the precipice of sleep, before slipping out of bed. Which is fine by Clint, he’s admittedly a bit of a bed hog.

About a year and two months into their relationship, the aftercare is superb. Clint gets his cuddles, and Natasha, well Natasha gets breakfast in bed now. And sometimes, when Clint’s feeling a bit cheeky he will wake her up in the most delicious of ways.

Thanks for asking, hope you enjoy! 🥰

[brightlotusmoon]

My FB post right now is being so useful:

Me: Okay, someone with TMJ, trigeminal nerve pain, and sinus pain help walk me through the differences so I can figure out what's happening in my face.

My microbiologist friend: "OMG SOMEONE FINALLY NEEDS ME!!!!

TMJ is an achy, muscular pain. If you press on the hinge of your jaw and/or the back of your skull where it meets your neck, you will feel intense pain followed by release. Causes headaches on one side, usually in the back. Opening your mouth wide while touching your jaw will produce a “pop” on one side and a feeling of sliding sideways on the other. Helped by: NSAIDS, muscle relaxants, heat. Hurt by: crunchy food, chewy food, jaw clenching.

Trigeminal neuralgia feels like random electrical shocks at the base of your teeth, radiating up into your cheek. One side. No headache. Pain can also be sharp or burning (when mine was at its worst it felt like someone put a flaming fireplace poker between my teeth and slammed my jaw shut), but the hallmark is that “shocky” pain. Helped by: medication that is specifically for nerve pain (like gabapentin). Absolutely nothing else helps. Hurt by: ??? (Mine is kind of related to the cold but…???)

Sinus pain is usually heavy pressure and an ache or occasional sharp pain in the jaw. Headaches bilateral and in the front of the head, in a “mask” around the eyes. Trigger points are at the inside corner of the eyebrow and the outer corner of the nostrils, applying firm pressure there will cause SEVERE pain that will lessen over time. Cheeks and forehead may also be sensitive to touch. Also might present as a sore throat. Helped by: sudafed, antihistamines, NSAIDS, cold. Hurt by: that depends on the person. If it’s unrelenting and doesn’t respond well to meds you should see a doctor to check for infection.

Oh my goodness I feel so useful 🖤"

My reply: "I love you. I also feel like all of that happened at the same time. But I'm going to call it TMJ, because the thoracic pain and upper shoulder stiffness is specific to the palsy spasticity, which means it'll hit the jaw muscles on both sides in slightly different ways."

Other friends also weighed in!

A. said "TMJ feels like you have the bottom jaw and the jaw joint hit with a hammer. Sinus pain in face feels like you could stick something into your eye or up your nose and it would pop the balloon that growing in your skull. Trigeminal nerve is one of the worst pains you have ever experienced and you would be at the hospital. It usually only affects one side of the face and it feels as thought someone is slicing your face open. (I don’t have it but a friend does but I experienced mild symptoms after a surgery that temporarily inflamed that nerve and even minor pain it was horrid and gave me a much much less accurate idea of how much pain my dear friend deals with cause mine was like 20% compared to her 100%)"

-

K. said: "TN can be bilateral and can be triggered or exacerbated by the same range of meds prescribed to relieve it.

Sinus pain may respond to pseudoephedrine, but phenylephrine ain't shit, so check your Sudafed formulation before you decide that decongestant doesn't work.

TMJ, you might notice that you're clenching or grinding at night... or other people might notice more than you do.

Also consider for differential diagnosis, these things that can cause REALLY fucking bizarre referred-pain:

Ear infection (look for fever or pain spiking at weird times when you can't identify a trigger, also maybe nausea)

Dental/oral nerve impingement or infection, try swishing with an analgesic like a chloraseptic spray or lozenge, or oragel. See if pan resolves.

Try tapping on teeth and gums. See if any of them feel 'weird.'

Brush/floss/waterpik/whatever very thoroughly and then gargle and swish as aggressively as you can.

I had a poppy seed making me think I was getting shingles one time. Once it was out, I was fine. Weirdest fucking shit... anyway..."

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

leave a trail of burnt things in my wake (every single place I go)

For @bloodgulchblog - this work is also on ao3

Smell can trigger memories and tap into long buried emotions. John is an expert at burying emotions, but he hit his limits months ago. An introspective piece inspired by discussion of the smell of cigar smoke and old friends long gone.

It's late when John heads back to Blue Team's quarters. Briefings, reports, responsibilities; all the things Team Leader is used to shouldering seem to weigh a little heavier these days. Bad news pours in from all sides and allies seem fewer and far between these days. There are new lines on everyone’s faces. Tightness in the way they move, smiles that don’t reach the eyes. It feels like the whole ship is holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for things to get worse, the next tragedy in the domino line of tragedies that humanity has been fighting for three decades.

Moving helps, he knows hypervigilance will be a drain in the long term, but thinking long term is new. It’s strange for aches to fade, scars to heal, joints to be sore and not in ignored agony. Living is a new kind of pain John is fighting to tolerate. It’s not something he’s sure he’ll get used to.

Restlessness is not a luxury he can usually afford, but aboard the Infinity is the closest he's felt to safe in a long time. The strange feeling coming from being surrounded by Spartans again. It still means he'll patrol if possible. It might garner him some extra looks from his team or even the captain when the man is able to corner him while they’re all aboard. The back to back missions dwindled only because John was overruled. He’s being watched - he knows it - spooks, Spartans, the brass, and anyone and everyone who recognizes the armor. His existence is an example, a beacon, and a warning.  

Yet they don’t stop his nighttime haunts. An olive branch perhaps, or maybe letting him have space - letting him walk through the nights with his ghosts. Even among his team, John doesn't want to spend any extra time in small rooms, and there's always work to be done.

He's not alone as he travels silently down gunmetal gray halls, but by this time most of the crew is changing shifts or used to Spartans moving. John's aware of how they look at him; the IIs move differently than the IVs but to the techs on their way to the hangars he's just another 7ft tall, 350 lbs of muscle to stay out of the way of.

Funny how being out of the armor helps him stay invisible.

There's movement down an auxiliary hallway that catches his eye, but he dismisses it when he sees troopers huddled together. It’s a familiar scene, one he’s witnessed time and again over his career in troop bays and shadowy corners, the handing off of contraband and the like. John pauses and notes the cameras, the vents, and the blindspots. Not amateurs then, though it's hard to tell these days. 

They all look so young.

John stills in the shadows and watches. There’s talking in low voices with some sporadic good natured bickering that gets shushed quickly. One of them shoves another off-balance; arms pinwheeling before they push back with a grin. His eyes catch flashes of packaging before it's shoved into pockets or down shirts and the group disperses. Tobacco gum, self-lighting cigarettes, and other nicotine sources disappear along with nondescript datachips and small flasks. They don't notice him - he would have lost his touch if they had - and the group splits off, nonchalance a little too forced. 

He'd make a comment, spook em a bit while he's this nameless Spartan who caught them. Pale as a ghost, mangled worse than some corpses. The old model, patched up over and over again. Some old, ugly sonuvabitch with weird eyes, too many scars popping out of the shadows wasn't a fun encounter, or so he'd been told.

At least he would have, if he didn't freeze in place as someone lit up and the too familiar smell of a Sweet William cigar hit his nose for the first time in over five years. 

The pungent odor - old boot-sock smoked over a dung-fire - hit him full force even if the marine smoking it was down the hall. The odor sat in his sinuses, and the scar on his chest hurt as he jerked away. It never felt like the skin grew back right, but then again it had never gotten the chance to fully heal; the Ark, the Dawn, and then everything after. 

It was like no time had passed. 

The squeak of the light cover flipping back, their thumb on the wheel. The ancient knowledge passed down to him that matches preserved the flavor more, but were hard to find and keep. Lighters were common - ceremonial - passed between brothers in arms or from father to son. John could still see Johnson’s engraved lighter in his mind’s eye.

He had known several people to have smoked those cigars - most of them were dead now. And with his luck, he was there when it happened.

There were a lot of memories tied up with that scent. Johnson, of course. He had always seemed to have them on him, always smoking so much John often considered commenting about him giving away their position with the stink of tobacco. He would have liked that; Johnson always liked when John pushed back. He’d smile around the cigar and raise his eyebrows, hum his approval, then return fire with a comment of his own. 

It was a scent that was tied to the man's presence, be it in a dropship, on the ground, or stopping by to drop off a tank. The first time John himself had tried one of the cigars, he had been 15 years old and ended up coughing so hard from the first draw that he reopened his neck wound. Butterfly bandages breaking under the strain as John wheezed and Avery laughed and took the cigar back, holding it away from his own oxygen cannula.

Johnson had shown him how to be a leader then - had backed him up and nodded when he got it right. John had carried those lessons with him for the rest of his life.

The smell of tobacco and dried flower was burned into his memory. Sweet William cigars had popped up throughout John’s service. Mendez had smoked them too, and Captain Keyes. 

Mendez had them in his desk drawer in his office on Reach. Halsey hadn't liked them, and like with most things, she would make her opinions clear. But that had been a lifetime ago. John didn't like to dwell on how he became what he was today. It was necessary, but the reminders of the human elements, the smoke drawing up old memories, made him uncomfortable.

He'd lived his whole life around foul-mouthed, paranoid, contraband-using marines and ODSTs. He had been honored to serve with those men and women. Tobacco was passed around as often as MREs no matter the campaign. It was familiar even after all this time.

Even Captain Keyes had his pipe, the lingering scent of tobacco on the bridge of the Autumn. Cigars weren't his main staple, but John had come to associate him among the men who smoked them.

It had been forever and only a few short months since he had been in the presence of a lit Sweet William.

His chest burns, something more than regrown skin over the burn scar. He leaves - as silently as he arrived.

The crewman continues to enjoy his contraband, smoke rising into the vent above, going to be scrubbed and recycled back.

[viatrixtravels-a]

Cold Season [OPEN STARTER]

"Nn..."

When Lumine woke up that particular morning, her head felt heavier than usual, vision slightly clouded as she dragged herself out of bed, her joints aching painfully.

Sore muscles were a common occurrence for the blonde, seeing as she spends most of her days roaming the vast lands of Teyvat, battling a wide array of monsters - from slimes and Hilichurls to the much more threatening Fatui Agents and Ruin Guards.

However, this was a different kind of pain. One which might not happen as frequent but which she dreaded more than anything.

Our dear Traveller ー had caught a cold.

While not exactly life-threatening, she dreaded nothing than being sick. After all, who likes being stuck in bed all day, unable to do your daily commissions or even just make yourself useful in any way, shape or form?

So no, she refused to let some cold get the best of her. Despite Paimon telling her to rest, the blonde stubbornly bit through the pain and dizziness, getting dressed before heading out for the day.

"Coff, coff..."

Her first task of the day was to clear out a Hilichurl Camp near the city. Easy peasy, right? The Hilichurls and Mitachurls who guards those are child's play to a seasoned fighter such as herself. ー That is, assuming she is in tip-top shape.

Right now her movements were sluggish, making it difficult to get the right aim, let alone dodge incoming attacks.

"...Ack!"

She winced in pain as her body hit the ground after being sent flying back by the Mitachurl's attack. Lumine tried her best to get back up, but everything around her was spinning.

"Ugh..."

As she looked up, she saw the monster standing right in front of her, its sharp axe already heading her wayーー

[fictionalfantasist]

Wanda x reader fanfic

Summary: Y/N is not a hero—just a stunt double, living in the shadows of others' spotlight. But when her path crosses with Wanda Maximoff’s, their worlds begin to collide in unexpected ways. Drawn together by fate, their bond deepens as they face forces neither of them fully understands. In the fight to protect what matters most, they’ll discover that when two worlds collide, the aftermath leaves nothing untouched—and everything at risk.

Chapter 2

The set had calmed down after the adrenaline of the earlier stunt, settling into that familiar lull between shots. Y/N had finished a few more takes, each one progressively more intense, but nothing they couldn't handle. They were back to their usual routine—quickly resetting, stretching out sore muscles, and keeping the atmosphere light with dry humor.

The sun had climbed higher in the sky, and the temperature on set had started to rise. But just as Y/N was about to kick back with some water and a joke for the crew, things took a turn.

They were hanging out by the edge of the lot, tucked in between two trailers, scrolling through their phone when they heard a commotion from the production tents. It wasn't the usual kind of commotion—the kind that comes with directors barking orders or a sudden camera failure. No, this had a different energy.

Curiosity piqued, Y/N slipped the phone into their pocket and made their way toward the source of the noise. As they rounded the corner, they caught sight of a huddle of crew members, all looking in the same direction, eyes wide with nervous energy.

"What's going on?" Y/N asked, their voice cutting through the murmurs.

One of the crew members turned toward them, face pale. "Something's up with the pyro rig. It's—uh—kinda glitching. The charges went off early during rehearsal, and now it's acting all—"

BOOM.

The ground shook beneath their feet, and a small but sharp explosion erupted from the set, sending a shower of sparks and debris into the air. The crew scattered like startled birds, and Y/N could feel the heat even from where they stood.

Before anyone could react, another loud crack followed, this one sounding even more intense. One of the scaffolds, weakened by the blast, started to wobble, its structure groaning under the strain.

Y/N's instincts kicked in immediately. Someone was still up there.

Without a second thought, they sprinted toward the chaos, weaving through the fleeing crew. From the corner of their eye, they saw Wanda—who had been giving an interview nearby—freeze in place, her eyes locking onto the collapsing structure with an intensity that Y/N could practically feel.

But there was no time to think about that now. As they reached the base of the scaffold, Y/N could see a grip operator clinging to one of the metal bars, his face a mask of terror. The whole structure teetered dangerously, groaning as it leaned further to one side.

Y/N didn't hesitate. With practiced precision, they scaled the scaffolding, every movement quick but controlled, despite the way it trembled beneath their weight.

"Hold on!" Y/N shouted as they reached the operator. "We're getting you down!"

The man nodded, his knuckles white as he gripped the bar. Y/N hooked an arm around the main support beam, reaching out with their free hand. "Trust me, okay? I've got you."

For a second, the operator hesitated, but then the scaffold gave another lurch, and he didn't have a choice. He reached for Y/N's hand, gripping it tightly. In one swift motion, Y/N pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his torso before pushing off the scaffold and swinging both of them down onto a lower platform.

As soon as their feet hit solid ground, Y/N hustled him away from the structure, just as the last metal joint gave way and the entire thing collapsed in on itself with a deafening crash.

The two of them stumbled a few feet away from the wreckage, hearts pounding in sync with the fading echoes of destruction. Dust and smoke hung heavy in the air, and for a few moments, everything was eerily still.

The operator looked at Y/N, still shaken but grateful. "Th-Thank you. I don't know how—"

"No sweat," Y/N said, brushing some ash off their jacket. "Just another day at the office."

The crew had started to regather, cautiously making their way back toward the set now that the immediate danger had passed. The director was on the phone with someone higher up, already swearing about the faulty rig, while others scrambled to assess the damage.

And then there was Wanda.

She stood at the edge of the chaos, her eyes locked on Y/N like she was seeing them for the first time. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her expression held a kind of intense curiosity—almost concern—but she didn't move. Not yet.

Y/N took a breath, running a hand through their hair as they turned to make sure the operator was being taken care of. The medics had him now, and with the situation under control, Y/N figured it was time to slip back into the shadows. No need to make a big deal out of it, right?

But as Y/N began to walk away, they heard Wanda's voice behind them.

"Y/N!"

It wasn't a shout—it wasn't even loud—but it cut through the noise like a blade, and for some reason, Y/N couldn't help but turn around.

Wanda was striding toward them now, her gaze unwavering, and for the first time, Y/N felt just a hint of nervousness prickling at the back of their mind. Not that they'd let it show.

"Hey," Y/N said casually as Wanda approached, as if they hadn't just thrown themselves into a collapsing scaffold like it was no big deal. "Saw the explosion? Not bad, right?"

Wanda didn't smile, though there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. She stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms. "You realize you could have been seriously hurt, right?"

Y/N shrugged, leaning against a nearby railing. "Eh, I've been through worse. Besides, you gotta keep things interesting on set, right?"

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze still intense. "You could've used your powers to get him down safely, you know. You didn't have to do it the hard way."

Y/N chuckled. "What can I say? I'm a bit of a traditionalist."

Wanda's expression softened, though she still looked at them like they were some kind of puzzle she couldn't quite figure out. "I don't get you," she said after a moment. "You keep throwing yourself into danger like it's just another job. Do you ever get scared?"

Y/N's smile faltered for just a second, but then it was back, just as quick. "If I told you yes, it would ruin my mysterious vibe. Can't have that."

Wanda tilted her head, a small smile finally tugging at the corners of her lips. "You're more than just mysterious, Y/N."

Before Y/N could respond, one of the producers called out to Wanda, reminding her of the interview she still had to finish. She glanced back at them, looking slightly torn before she nodded and started to walk away.

But just as she was about to leave, she turned back one more time. "By the way," she said, "I'm not done figuring you out yet."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. "That sounds like a challenge."

Wanda's smile widened slightly. "Maybe it is."

With that, she turned and walked back toward the production tents, leaving Y/N standing there in the aftermath of the explosion, watching her go with a mixture of intrigue and something else—a spark of something new. Something unpredictable.

[askthehills]

Denzien shrugged, not caring too much about his lip. It hurt, sure, but it was nothing compared to the pain he'd felt before. "I think I bit it too hard when you were sucking me" he spoke, running his tongue along his bottom lip to assess the damage he'd don't to himself. He stretched his legs out, the joints cracking and popping.

He wasn't sleepy in the slightest, a bit worn out sure, but he definitely wouldn't fall asleep any time soon. His stomach grumbled and his throat was dry.. If anything he'd get dressed and search for food if he was allowed to. This was Lizard's territory afterall, he needed to ask permission out of respect.

He tilted his head to the side and gave a nod. "Of course, or I wouldn't have said it" he stated plainly, putting his hand back onto Lizard's stomach, tracing his abs gently.

Denzien wasn't as toned as Lizard was, he had a bit of muscle here and there from his street rat lifestyle, but it was more obvious in his upper arms and thighs. His stomach was super flat though, mostly due to the fact that it was so hard for him to find food. Usually he lived in pretty populated areas, so he couldn't just go around killing people even though he wanted to. Human was a treat.

"Do you want to get hard again?" Denzien asked, grinning a little wider... He'd be up for some lazy kissing and mutual masterbation if that's what Lizard wanted. He pressed a kiss against Lizards temple, wrapping himself around the other, sticking his face into his neck, sniffing at him for the 100th time that day.

"My turn next, I want to know how it feels. Bet it'll be great, giving your experience and all" he mumbled, before pulling away from Lizard's neck, staring into his eyes.

"Why are you thanking me?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow up. His voice held a genuine tone underneath the rasp. For the sex? For.. Whatever was going on between them? He wasn't dumb but he wasn't good at reading context clues- he hadn't been brought up by people, so he didn't really know how to socialise.

- 🐥

Lizard had stayed close, silently staring at the lip before rubbing his waist, pecking the lil sore. "Probably so."

He gently curled, his body coiling and his hair gently bobbing..messy and 'cowlicked', laid as close as possible to Denzien. He felt comforted by him, he was a safe place..but human!

He had shifted a little more at the touch on his body, some of his torso muscles tensing at the tracing, his abs flexing subconsciously. ".." He smiled to himself quietly.

He tilted into the temple kiss, finding the embrace an option chance to cling even closer.. Gently kissing his jaw once. "I'll fuck you. Just give me a while." He whispered, cuddling closer.

He met his look. Lizards eyes..were full of tears? What the fuck..

"For everything." He whispered, trying to hold back the fact he was so impacted by Denziens kindness n affection. " ..." He sniffled..slowly leaning forward. Softly butting his own head against his..not hard. Just out of affection, nuzzling.

"I don't know..why I feel this way. I've never ..been sad after breeding before." He whispered. "..I feel vulnerable. But..its..not bad. I...wanna be vulnerable with you." He whispered shallowly, his voice raspy as he swallowed, calmly huffing.

[no-youchie]

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Voltaren Arthritis Pain Gel. Often praised for its anti-inflammatory properties. Users say it effectively reduces both pain and swelling. While it’s marketed for arthritis, many people with different types of back pain report significant benefits. Hemp-based creams. This is especially powerful for those with CBD, have been getting more positive reviews. Users often mention that these creams not only relieve pain but also offer a sense of relaxation. The natural ingredients are appealing to those looking for an alternative to traditional medications. Comparing customer feedback can help you choose the right product, especially if you’re deciding between a few options. Look for patterns in the reviews—like how effective the cream is, how long the relief lasts, and any side effects. This information can be very helpful in making a good decision. Overall satisfaction ratings are usually a good sign of how well a product works. Many review sites offer ratings that give you a quick view of how well a cream works for many users. High satisfaction ratings generally mean the product is reliable and worth trying. Potential Side Effects and Precautions. Using pain relief creams is generally safe for most people, but it’s important to be aware of potential side effects and take precautions. Not everyone will have side effects, but knowing what to look for helps you use these products more effectively and safely. Skin reactions like redness, itching, and irritation are the most common side effects. These usually happen because of the active ingredients, especially if you have sensitive skin. It’s a good idea to do a small patch test on your inner forearm before applying the cream to a larger area. Allergic reactions can also happen. Symptoms might include swelling, severe itching, or hives. If you have these symptoms, stop using the product right away and see a healthcare professional. Make sure to read the ingredient list carefully, especially if you know you’re prone to allergies. Interactions with other medications are something to keep in mind. Some pain relief creams, especially those with ingredients like lidocaine, may interact with other treatments or medications you’re using. If you’re not sure, check with your healthcare provider. Consulting a healthcare professional is always a good idea if you have pre-existing conditions or are pregnant or breastfeeding. They can give you advice that’s specific to your health needs and help you pick the safest and most effective product. Safe usage guidelines are usually easy to follow. Stick to the instructions on the product label and avoid using too much. More isn’t always better and can increase the risk of side effects. Using the creams as directed ensures you get relief without unnecessary risks. Being mindful of these factors can help you use pain relief creams safely and effectively. A little precaution goes a long way in making sure you get relief without unexpected issues. Additional Tips for Managing Back Pain. Using pain relief creams is just one way to manage back pain. There are other strategies that can work alongside creams to give you better relief. Posture is very important. Keeping good posture can help reduce a lot of back pain. Invest in ergonomic furniture, especially if you sit for long periods. An ergonomic chair and a properly placed computer screen can make a big difference. Exercises and stretches can strengthen the muscles that support your back. Gentle activities like yoga or pilates can improve flexibility and reduce muscle tension. Even simple exercises like walking or doing specific back stretches can be very helpful. Heat and cold therapy are also useful. A heating pad or warm shower can relax tight muscles. On the other hand, ice packs can reduce swelling and numb sharp pain. Sometimes, switching between heat and cold can give the best relief. When to seek medical help is another important point. If your back pain doesn’t go away after using creams and other home treatments, or if it’s very severe, it’s time to see a healthcare professional. Long-lasting or intense pain could mean there’s a more serious issue that needs medical care. Taking a holistic approach to back pain can give you the best results. By combining these tips with the right pain relief cream, you can manage your pain more effectively and improve your overall well-being. Conclusion: Choosing the Right Pain Relief Cream for You. Choosing the right pain relief cream means understanding your specific pain and needs. Each product has its own benefits and ingredients, so it's important to find the one that works best for you. For example, Biofreeze is great for quick cooling relief, while Tiger Balm offers both cooling and warming effects. Reading customer reviews can help you learn what might work for your type of pain. Positive feedback from real users often highlights how well a product works and any side effects, helping you make a more informed choice. To get the most out of pain relief creams, always apply them correctly. Using them on clean, dry skin helps them absorb better, and massaging the cream in can make it work more effectively. Be aware of possible side effects, especially if you have sensitive skin or other health issues. Talking to a healthcare provider can give you personalized advice and ensure you use the cream safely. Using creams along with other pain management techniques, like exercises, heat/cold therapy, and good posture, can provide better relief. In the end, managing back pain often requires a combination of methods, and finding the right pain relief cream can make a big difference. Trust your research and consult with professionals to improve your quality of life. No Youchie Store. Posts Page. Gym Rat YouTube Channel. https://youtu.be/gR07a4QCBkU Read the full article

[androgynoushottubzombie]

The Pain-Relieving Properties of Traditional Chinese Medicine for Pain Relief

Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) has been practiced for thousands of years, providing a holistic technique to wellbeing and nicely-being. Among the such a lot prominent TCM practices are acupuncture and Tui Na medical care, which can be fairly high-quality in treating a good number of suffering prerequisites. This article explores how those historic recovery ways alleviate soreness and advertise usual wellbeing.

Acupuncture for Pain Relief

Acupuncture includes the insertion of advantageous needles into unique aspects on the body to stimulate the circulate of vitality (Qi) and fix steadiness. It is greatly used to deal with more than a few suffering stipulations, along with:

Chronic Pain

Acupuncture is chiefly beneficial in managing persistent agony circumstances along with arthritis, fibromyalgia, and shrink returned agony. By stimulating one-of-a-kind acupuncture factors, it could cut down irritation, increase blood movement, and launch common painkillers often known as endorphins.

Migraines and Headaches

For the ones stricken by migraines and chronic complications, acupuncture presents relevant relief. By concentrating on tension facets related to headache agony, acupuncture helps to reduce the frequency and intensity of migraines, presenting long-term remedy with out the side resultseasily of drugs.

Musculoskeletal Pain

Acupuncture is favourable for quite a lot of musculoskeletal suffering issues, which includes neck affliction, shoulder pain, and joint agony. It is helping to rest tight muscle mass, slash irritation, and boost mobility, making it an high-quality selection for athletes and individuals with bodily stressful jobs.

Tui Na for Alleviating Pain

Tui Na, a kind of Chinese healing rubdown, combines acupressure, stretching, and manipulation tactics to deal with musculoskeletal soreness and raise general smartly-being. This arms-on medication is successful for:

Sports Injuries

Tui Na cure is in many instances used to deal with sporting events injuries consisting of sprains, lines, and bruises. By employing strain to exact issues and manipulating muscle tissues and joints, it allows to reduce anguish, develop move, and accelerate the cure process.

Back and Neck Pain

For contributors struggling with again and neck anguish, Tui Na medication can provide centered aid through addressing the underlying explanations of soreness. It facilitates to alleviate muscle pressure, desirable misalignments, and promote more suitable posture, most advantageous to long-term pain alleviation.

Stress-Related Pain

Stress can happen as bodily discomfort, certainly in the neck, shoulders, and to come back. Tui Na medicine helps to release stress and pressure from the body, promotion rest and chopping soreness Medical Centre due to tension and anxiousness.

Conclusion Traditional Chinese Medicine, thru practices like acupuncture and Tui Na remedy, offers useful and holistic procedures to managing and alleviating ache. Whether facing continual conditions, sporting activities accidents, or strain-comparable agony, these ancient healing equipment present remarkable reduction and toughen standard health and wellbeing. By embracing TCM, persons can feel a normal and balanced manner to deal with their pain and adorn their smartly-being.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

No but really I spent the last 4 days trying to get my spine to un-swell, and then yesterday I did what I thought was a 'short' walk to drop off the mail and buy some stuff and that RUINED my calf muscle entirely somehow, and the walk was longer than I thought... and I woke up today barely able to walk, but I had to walk over 2 and a half hours to make my appointment today and drop off a USB to get some medical records...

And I'm not even next day stiff and sore yet, but oh fuck I do not think I will be able to move.

All I did was a bit of light cleaning and some walking... But like, also I should not be doing 20 minutes of walking at once, let alone hours of it. I can feel the swelling and stiffness developing in my spine and legs and even my arms, so bad.

My left bicep keeps cramping up for no good reason at all, and now I just used my right arm to take some of my walking weight enough to get blisters on that hand.

I can't even switch hands when using my cane because my left wrist is so messed up inside. Multiple cysts and the larger fluid filled something that at least isn't cancer, confirmed. But something is just tearing apart the connective tissue in my left wrist specifically.

So they say the IUD is in a good place but I have a cyst on my right ovary again. That explains the recent pain in my right ovary. None of that explains the iud strings going missing or the bleeding every time I have an orgasm, but nothing is like *wrong*TM, so whatever, I don'te care. Maybe my muscles are just contracting hard enough to press vascular tissue against the plastic of the iud or something? They don't care enough to investigate and I'm to tired to care if it isn't serious.

I literally don't care about the pain, I just don't want cancer or permanent damage.

She says she'll ask for me about whether they'd operate on my wrist with only local anesthetic. She would NOT fucking let me see my usual dermatologist about the skin things I am worried about but says I can see the one at their clinic and they can freeze things off for me. I want them surgically removed and biopsied, really, but she just will not leave that up top my usual dermatologist. She is a nurse but she is gatekeeping me seeing the actual expert. I scheduled that for over a month from now because I will not go in later than 9 am and I will not be able to walk for a while.

They're about to not be my doctor's office soon anyway, one way or another, I needed to find a new family doctor regardless. Maybe one a bit fucking closer. idk...

Anyway,

I think I saved my right ankle from the worst of the walking consequences, but I still don't know if I'll be able to walk or move around much by tomorrow.

I don't know why I am in so much extra pain even compared to my usual levels and even for this level of activity.

Maybe it's the one change I made before the vitamin... For the past week and a half I have been having a lot of lactose in the sweetened condensed milk, because I am out of cream. The level of iodine seemed to be fine so far, but I was wondering why I wasn't reacting more strongly to the lactose. The digestive reaction has been weirdly minimal and it's full of extra added lactose as the sugar that's added to it. Maybe it's having other full body effects? I have no clue.

Did you know that walmart sells fucking wheelchairs on their online store? You can just fucking buy those.

If I keep having pain weeks like this I am going to start considering it. Just trying to hold my cane and the umbrella for shade today made it so I couldn't give either arm any kind of break, I still went half blind from the sun, and I can't really stop walking to rest because the change in position in my muscles and joints hurts worse somehow. I can't fucking walk or see anything and this city isn't even particularly walkable. There's also some big ass hills going on and the only way around them makes your walk like way longer. No fucking benches, and certainly none in any measure of shade.

Anyway I need a nap T~T

[fisiodubai]

Using Kinesio Tape To Improve Performance

There is a good chance that athletes on the court, in the stadium, or in the pool will have huge amounts of brightly coloured tape stuck on top of their skin. This tape is usually long and on top of their muscles instead of around their arms. If you’ve ever watched the Olympics or any other sports event, you’ve probably seen this. Being stylish isn’t what it is. It’s elastic medical tape, a special kind of flexible, stretchy sports tape that is often used to ease pain in muscles and joints. The question is, does it work?

Why Do You Need Kinesio Taping?

KT tape, which stands for “elastic therapeutic tape,” is a stretchy cotton strip that has a sticky side made of acrylic. In the 1970s, Dr. Kenzo Kase made it. Since then, other types have come out, but his Kinesio® Tex Adhesive is still widely used today.

Physiotherapists at physiotherapy centre dubai and other medical workers use KT tape for many things, like relieving pain from sports injuries and improving athletic performance. This kind of tape is sometimes called kinesiology tape.

What’s Unique About Kinesio Taping?

Kinesiotape is made by wrapping polymer elastic around strands of 100% cotton. After being used, it may shrink back to its normal length, but it can also grow up to 140% longer than it was before. Even though the cloth is waterproof, it lets water escape. This means that you can wear it for long amounts of time, even while working out or taking a shower. Kinesiotape is one of a kind because it has the same physical qualities as human skin. It has the same weight, thickness, and natural elasticity as the skin. To make fingerprints look real, a heat-activated medical glue that looks like waves is used.

How Exactly Does Sports Tape Work?

Not all athletic tape is the same, and it’s not meant to be used for the same thing. Most sports tape is thick and doesn’t bend. It’s also sometimes called strapping tape or stiff tape. This kind of regular tape can be used to immobilise ankle and wrist joints. KT tape, on the other hand, is thin and bendable and is put straight over a joint. Because it doesn’t get in the way like regular sports tape, athletes can wear it during practice and games. When you put KT adhesive on a joint, it can work more like an elastic, supporting muscles and tendons and easing some of the joint’s stress.

Advantages And Disadvantages Of Using Kinesio Tape

Is Taping Necessary?

It Can Help Ease The Pain Of Sore Joints

A little too strong? “Temporary” is the key word here. KT tape might help you find some short-term comfort by making your pain less severe with the right help. Some sore joints may feel better for a few hours or a day after taking it. Maybe good for people with constant pain. Kinesio tape might not work better than other treatments, but study shows that it might help people with chronic musculoskeletal pain feel less pain. KT tape may help people with osteoarthritis feel less pain, but there is mixed evidence about how well it can help people with shoulder tendinitis. On top of that, there isn’t any strong scientific evidence that Kinesio tape helps people with chronic pain function better.

One thing to add here is that you can’t expect KT tape to help with problems like chronic pain. Long-term benefits of its use have not yet been shown by studies.

Because it doesn’t get in the way of your movement, KT tape is good for giving your muscles and joints extra support. This is especially important if you have a long-term illness like Syndrome of patellofemoral stress.

Also, KT tape may help protect martial artists’ Achilles tendons and strengthen ankles that aren’t stable enough on their own. As an extra bonus, some people say they feel more comfortable being active with KT tape than without it.

The Kinesio Tapes Have Steps On Them

Putting on KT tape might not seem like a big deal at first, but it will become one fast. It’s more than just a bandage. Kinesio tape should only be used by a trained sports therapist who can figure out how much, where, and how to apply the tape to your body based on your needs.

The Facts Are:

People think of kinesio taping as a short-term answer and a way to help with pain. That being said, fixing the real issue is still needed for a full return. Talk to physiotherapists in Dubai to find out how sports massage and kinesio taping might help your condition. A lot of different types of treatments are available at the centre, such as osteopathic manipulation, musculoskeletal physical therapy, lymphatic drainage, and therapeutic massage.

Since there isn’t a lot of reliable study to support the idea that kinesiology tape makes athletes better, it shouldn’t be thought of as a way to beat the competition. I think that its ability to help people get better is what makes it effective. Using this tape is a low-risk, safe, and useful way to help your body move towards better function and less pain. It works, but it’s not a cure-all, and it shouldn’t be used instead of chiropractic care, physical therapy, or common sense ways to deal with injuries

[rocksalt-and-pie]

this is generally good advice but I hate it when people tell you to "simply do some push ups" to get back into it or to start from scratch. Push ups are one of the hardest (and most efficient) exercises there are, especially for people who haven't worked out before or in a long time. So if you're struggling with doing push ups, that's completely normal and no sign of weakness. The same goes for going for a walk because if you're really so depressed that you can't get up, you probably won't go strolling around the block just like that (actually, if you spend a lot of time lying down, please be careful walking around because you might actually pass out).

Try this instead (sorted by difficulty, starting with the easiest):

- some light and gentle stretching just to get some feeling back into your muscles and to reconnect with your body, you can even do that while sitting on the edge of your bed

- lie down on your back, either on the floor or even just on your bed or couch, put your legs into the air and do some cycling motions with your legs in the air, do it only until you have to catch your breath. Breaks are okay! No need to set a timer. Do it in your own time, do it as long as it feels bearable.

- look for a yoga routine for RELAXING yoga or for tension relief or even just bedtime yoga. It's still movement. It's still engaging your muscles.

- try some LIGHT exercise like doing push ups standing up with your hands against the wall, biceps curls (you can use books or a water bottle for that if you don't have dumbbells), crunches or sit-ups, squats while holding on to a chair. Only do as many as you can. There's no need to start with ten. Three are perfectly fine. Even one is enough.

- walk up and down the stairs (hold on to the railing if you need it! There's no shame in it), even just once is fine.

Here are some reminders:

- there are no rules. The yoga instructor might tell you to hold a position for 30 seconds, if you can't do that, don't.

- be very gentle with your knees, especially if you've never worked out before, especially if you usually don't lean down on them, especially if you're overweight.

- a little goes a long way. Don't overdo it. Don't put any pressure on yourself. Smaller movements are often better.

- your muscles will maybe sting or tingle or even burn a little bit which is normal and will start to feel good after a while. Drop what you're doing if you feel a sudden sharp sensation in your muscles, joints, bones or tendons. It'll feel wrong when you're doing something wrong and please listen to your body. You have nothing to prove.

- just because you were able to do ten sit-ups yesterday doesn't mean you're obligated to do the same amount (or more) the next day. Your energy levels vary from day to day. You're not failing because you're doing less than the last time.

- warmth helps sore muscles. (Hot water bottles, warm showers or baths, rubbing your hands together for twenty seconds and gently massaging the sore muscle with your warm hands)

- you'll hate it in the moment but there WILL be the fun kind of hormones afterwards. As a treat. Promise.

- just trying is enough. Just show up. That's my personal rule whenever I go to the gym but it can be applied to working out at home too. Just show up. How much you end up doing isn't set in stone.

- anything is better than nothing. One squat is better than zero squats.

[acf-lab]

ACI artificial cartilage insole, not to hurt the foot and knee climbing sports god!

Are you an outdoor enthusiast who is often bothered by sore toes on the soles of your bare feet and discomfort in your knees and knees?

Why is this?

Because the legs are in motion for a long period of time, resulting in muscle strain which is superficial, but in reality it is due to irreversible damage to the knee joint caused by the impact force transmitted from the ground to the knee over a long period of time.

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Why it's so great: built-in ACF artificial cartilage material. This insole uses an artificial cartilage material called ACF to provide up to 90% or more ground impact, which can effectively relieve knee fatigue, reduce knee injuries, and improve athletic performance. The artificial cartilage can effectively mimic the shape and function of human joint cartilage, providing more stable and comfortable support, while also reducing joint friction and impact.

Suitable for all kinds of sports occasions. Whether you like climbing, running, fitness or other sports, this insole can provide excellent support and protection, reduce the impact and pressure on your feet and knees during exercise, so that you can focus more on the exercise itself and enjoy the fun of exercise. Usually walking and shopping, hiking, ordinary insoles will feel fatigue in about 1 hour, wearing ACF insoles, no foot or knee injury, and still full of energy after 2 hours.

No foot or knee injuries. This insole not only effectively relieves knee fatigue and reduces knee injuries, but also avoids the adverse effects that traditional insoles may have on your feet, allowing you to exercise in a healthier way. At the same time, the insoles are easy to clean and replace, keeping your sports equipment hygienic and comfortable at all times.

Why use it. If you are a sports enthusiast who often feels fatigue and discomfort in your knees, or wish to find a more comfortable and healthy sports insoles, then this ACI Artificial Cartilage Insoles is definitely the right choice for you! It will be the best companion during your sports, allowing you to enjoy the joy of sports with more peace of mind and comfort!

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