#no pressure but medically i do have low blood so i might actually die

[rafasbiscuits]

Everyone, pray with me.

"please let Rafael Nadal be healthy and prepared to play for Madrid Open"

[cryptskeep]

For your POTS post idk exactly why but I feel like Mumbo or Cleo would work well for a fic :3

Okay before I actually write I always do some brainstorming and I think y'all might enjoy this bit bc its where I make up lore

So this is a more modern au for right now because if I have to deal with the medical system, so do my blorbos

the hermits are a disability club or something, they essentially all got together to form a community for others with chronic illnesses and disabilities

Mumbo

General Lore:

works from home, some kind of blueprint guy, idk engineer or something I don't know anything about STEM jobs

used to bike a lot when he was younger but now can't really do that

is one of the only people who know how to drive

has a Very fabulous mustache

POTS Lore:

Has a really severe case of POTS (We're twinning)

constantly passes out if he stands up too fast

tries to carry salt around and water but honestly forgets most of the time

has really low blood pressure and often just kinda dies for a few hours to a few days

got peer-reviewed as disabled long before he actually realized he was and started the diagnosis process

walks with a cane for extra support

Cleo

General Lore:

seamstress, has her own business for mainly clothes, but also makes little dolls and clothes for those dolls

if she's feeling good, she sometimes takes shifts at a local bar as a bartender

Mom friend mom friend mom friend

adamantly denies being the mom friend

tries her damndest to mind her own business but her friends are so damn stupid she can't or else they'll die

POTS Lore:

has been diagnosed since she was young

is the one that actually carries around salt and hydration stuff

does not do well in the heat, like at all

doesn't pass out as much as mumbo but gets really dizzy whenever she stands up

has a lot of heart palpitations and doesn't make it any better by drinking coffee to stay awake

[htbrpblog]

(OOC: Trigger/content warning for gore descriptions. It's basically just infodumping about wounds and treatments because, come on, he'd do this if he had a blog. Plus, it's an excuse for me to infodump). There are so many things that can go wrong from a cut, so I'm going to tell you some of them.

(OOC: Badeline sprite by Amora Bettany. Sprite edit by me. These are meant to be visualizations).

The first layer of skin is called the epidermis. The epidermis is very thin, and if you get cut only to that layer, it will not bleed. The epidermis does not contain any type of blood vessel. The very outer layers are often dead, so sometimes you will not feel anything if it is damaged, just like hair and fingernails. These won't cause too much damage, but you must wash them with soap and water anyway because they can still get infected. The next layer of skin is called the dermis. The dermis has arterioles, and capillaries. You might see veins and nerves there by proxy if you get to the reticular layer, but they are a little deeper. If you are bleeding, wash the cut, or it will likely get infected by something. Most of the time it won't be something deadly, but there are many deadly infections you could catch, so that is why it is important. If the blood squirts at this layer, you likely got an arteriole, and you should put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. If you have healing medicine to put on the cut, use it. If a cut gapes, you must use medical tape or steri-strips to hold it closed. If you don't have either of those, use anything that can hold the cut closed for weeks. The best thing to do would be to go to the doctor and let them treat you, or at least go to the store and get the proper materials. If your cut is yellow on the inside and looks bumpy, that's the hypodermis, and you need to go to the hospital because that can turn very deadly, and you'll need stiches. Here is where the veins and nerves are, and if a nerve got cut, it's going to be extremely painful, and nerves don't always heal. There are arteries as well. If an artery is damaged, it will squirt blood, and it is very dangerous to leave untreated. This is how people can die of blood loss. I have hardly even mentioned the deadly diseases that could kill you from just a small untreated wound. The first one is gangrene. Gangrene is when your cells die because there is no blood flow. It can actually be caused by an infection, and some people have gotten gangrene and died from it after only having a minor cut. There are a few types of gangrene. Dry gangrene is the specific type I was informing you about a few sentences ago. Wet gangrene is when you get an infection on top of your gangrene, which makes it deadly. Gas gangrene is when there is gas under your skin, causing it to create bubbles. It is deadly as well. The last type is internal gangrene. It can happen if your organs are slipping through a hole in your body, also called a hernia. It is also deadly. Sepsis is when your body tries to treat an infection but gets confused and attacks itself instead. This is why it's so important not to let any wound get infected. When it progresses, it will turn into septic shock. You will feel like you are dying because you will be dying. Some symptoms are being very confused, flu symptoms, difficulty breathing, fast heart rate, low blood pressure, pain, or being unable to stand up or stay awake. If a wound goes septic, you have to go to the hospital immediately, or you will probably die. Back to the main topic, if you manage to get a cut to the fascia, which covers the muscle tissue and can look white, grey, or blue, you must go to the hospital. You can also get necrosis from an injury like this, which is like gangrene, but it's not from a lack of blood supply. It will damage whatever cells it affects permanently, and it usually will affect the deeper tissues. If you manage to get an injury that goes all the way to your muscle or bone, like if you aren't careful with an electric saw, you need to go to the hospital. That could sever tendons or ligaments, so you won't be able to move that area as much anymore. You should always clean your wounds with soap and water. Water does nothing by itself. Do not use hydrogen peroxide, it'll kill your cells as well as the bacteria. Cover your cuts with bandages. Go to the hospital of you must. Do not wait to treat you injuries.

[shwarmii]

also last post i said my body was "likely-POTS-raddled" and like. that is very true BUT ALSO I WANNA VENT A LIL REAL QUICK

i get why i probably have undiagnosed POTS

i can't be outside in the sun/anywhere warm or hot for long without feeling nauseous and sick. meaning i might as well be agoraphobic with how little i go outside since i live in Southern California where our seasons are "hot" and "hotter" with a day or two of rain dispersed randomly. despite feeling like this, i only sweat sometimes, AND no matter what i do my circulation is so poor that i feel icy to the touch even though i feel like i am boiling. as a result, i have the a/c on always (to the point my mama has said i "live in a meat locker" lmao rip), tend to do errands late afternoon or evening, and prefer hanging out with friends into the night. a very frequent symptom of POTS is the body have an inability to regulate its internal temperature, resulting in heat making a lot of POTS patients feel nauseous. poor circulation is also common in POTS patients

while packing, i fainted about four times even though i was eating well-enough and whatnot, simply because i was bending up and down so often due (1) to these boxes i had to fill up and move about and, (2) instead of the usual "i sit for hours" stuff i do (due to chronic leg pain making walking/standing painful), i was taking breaks by sitting for a bit and then getting up. like i started to actually feel dizzy getting up/down even when i wasnt fainting (yet), like i could FEEL it almost happen. and when it would happen, it wasnt "oh, light black dots surrounding my vision with somewhat jelly-legs because i stood up too fast" that id get once in a while for my whole life (i forget if thats bc of low blood-sugat or low blood-pressure but still) but it was proper FULL BLACKNESS and my knees buckling all because i slowly stood up and took a step forward. i had to grab onto things to keep from hitting my head on the floor and got very lucky i didnt lose consciousness >> be unable to grab something and protect my head, bc i was risking getting a concussion from how i was Not Falling Safely (i never learned to fall safely, unfortunately). though a majority of POTS patients dont faint, it is a key-note symptom of the condition and usually happens when the person is going from sitting to standing and whatnot as their body disregulates and overracts to the movement

my medical practioners have gone "huh" and taken my heart-rate twice or three times bc it was "way too high". like. sometimes its been "a normal level of high, lots of people get a faster heart-rate bc going to the doctor makes them nervous" and thats my "normal" with them. but lately theyve been going "...okay let's do that again bc all youve done is walk over and sit down, i get youre severley anxious/have PTSD/have medical trauma but c'mon". apparently, it's common for POTS patients' heart-rate to disregulate and treat standing and walking over somewhere as rigorous exercise, which could explain my "way too high heart-rate"

and other symptoms (my chronic migraines, shakiness, chronic fatigue, brain fog, chronic memory loss, and so many more) and even masked-symptoms (i used to have a lot of shortness of breath so then i got REALLY GOOD at breath control very young to mitigate the issue, like to the point that singers in my life have complimented me on it and said its impressive (i cant sing well tho alas, its in my bucket list to take classes and develop the skill). but i still have trouble breathing after exertion of any kind, but i always have this memory of one P.E. teacher in my head forcing me to take a step back to regulate my breathing back, bc he once told us "Don't you ever stop breathing or hold it in or do shallow breaths when doing somrthing hard. Shit could kill you. Do you know how many old people die on the toliet because they held their breath as they tried to take a shit? Do you want that to be how you die? Your pants down, failing to take a shit? Breathe. Long and deep. Force it to happen. Don't you ever hold it in." lmao thanks, teach)

like

i gET IT. POTS IS LIKELY ONE OF MY (MANY) CONDITIONS

but also im not allowed to have POTS

because the only reason i already knew what POTS was when my friends started going "Hey. Hey, maybe you should look into POTS? Like, maybe ask your doctor about it?" (which she said i couldn't have it bc i dont faint (which i found out is untrue) and we have since discovered ACTUALLY I DO FAINT, i just dont bend up/down often and i also tend to stay seated for hours on end once i do sit) is because of tiktok. like. my fyp put me on POTS Tiktok and i stayed there for a few weeks bc a lot of POTS Tiktok is usually these women showing how their partner cares for them, that love and romance is possible while disabled, that their POTS didnt ruin their date but just meant the pair of them had to sit down on the floor for a while while their boyfriend helped raise their feet. very cute shit, it helped like a soothing balm on my internalized ableism ass' "nobody could ever wanna date me bc im sickly" heart. but yeah. so i was in that hub for several weeks and learned a lot of things about it via osmosis. but so many of these videos featured women fainting so i was like "lol not me" bc i hadnt started packing to move >> bent up/down a lot >> fainted several times yet. but yeah no i (jokingly) refuse to have POTS tho because then that shit means TIKTOK DIAGNOSED ME FIRST. ILLEGAL. NOT ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. NO. UNCONSTITUTIONAL BEHAVIOR. THAT ALGORITHM IS NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE DIAGNOSED ME FIRST, FUCK NO LMAO

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

(ii)

Aside from Kibin herself and Uchui here, just Kaede Akamatsu. At least, those are the only people I've told.

Speaking of Miaya though...Uchui and I just got finished up with her.

Really? You guys sought therapy?

More like she came to talk to the two of us while we were healing...She'll probably do the same for you if you check in at the medical bay.

She wasn't trying to force us but...Kuripa was surprisingly willing to go through with it. Even though he's hated the idea for so long.

Yeah, well...things are different now...Gyalusetsu's dead, and Kotoko's been avenged. And now...Now all I've got left with me...are the screams and souls of those I've damned...

I figured if Gekkogahara could help alleviate me of those in any way, it'd be...well, cool...I guess.

Kuripa...

Eh...Forget about my trauma. I deserve it. But if you want to help, then there's one thing that I need to hear from you.

What happened the night after we last saw you? On top of Koime's mansion. You said Gyalusetsu saved you, and I want to know what you meant by that.

Actually, yeah. I'd like to know that too.

Oh...Well, ok, but...there's not much of a story.

...

——————————————————————

Mukuro: I passed out from blood loss after taking that knife for Kuripa. I really did think it was gonna be the end but...knowing what was going on back in Tokyo, I wanted you guys to leave me behind...I was fully expecting to die there, but...

Uchui: But fate had other plans for you?

Mukuro: Not fate in particular, but...a certain someone did at least. A few hours later, when I woke up, I found myself inside the mansion or...what was left of it.

——————————————————————

The first thing I noticed was...This...

*Mukuro pulls down her shirt to reveal the area just under her collarbone. Around the left hand side of her is a steel plating that seems physically implanted into her body.

What's that?

In short...it's my new heart...Well, where it is at least.

——————————————————————

Mukuro: I noticed the plating almost immediately when I woke up. The dagger Koime threw pierced my heart, and when I came to, it had been replaced with an artificial one. I had a chance to look at it later, and the technology is...nothing like I've seen before. But shortly before I could process that...

Mukuro: I opened my eyes...and saw him.

Kuripa: Gyalusetsu, right?

Mukuro: Yeah...I saw a load of equipment that he was putting away too. Some of it that had traces of blood on them. That was enough of a giveaway for me.

Makoto: So he really did save you? What did he say to you at the time?

Mukuro: I wanted to ask him a few questions, but my voice was basically gone by the time I woke up. And he'd clearly given me some meds so that my blood pressure didn't rise when I awoke. I only started talking to him after he gave me some soup.

Kuripa: Waitwaitwaitwaitwait! He made you SOUP!? What is he, your nurse!?

Mukuro: Apparently.

Uchui: But...why did he save you?

Mukuro: To be honest...I still don't know...I asked him several times but he always gave me the same answer...

——————————————————————

"You cannot die. You are too important."

"Too important?" In what regard?

Again...I don't know...

Hm...

——————————————————————

Mukuro: After I recovered enough to walk, Gyalusetsu escorted me out of the mansion and flew me in a chopper all the way back to Tokyo. I intended to catch up with you there, but Gylusetsu said that I needed to lay low for a while and support you from a distance. For a while at least, Zetsubou weren't allowed to know that I was still alive.

Uchui: In retrospect, maybe he was trying to get the Organization to let its guard down.

Makoto: But didn't Gyalusetsu work for Zetsubou?

Kuripa: Mm...

Mukuro: Either way, I didn't trust him, even if he did save me, But I played along right until he arranged a meeting with...

Makoto: Yuki and the Whitecloaks?

Mukuro: Exactly. At first, I thought Gyalusetsu might have been a spy for the Children of Utsuro, but apparently, that's not it either. He cooperated with Yuki on that one occasion and no other. He made a request to take me in as a Whitecloak so that I could support you guys from the shadows until I was ready to come back.

Uchui: And what happened during your time as a Whitecloak?

Mukuro: Well, you pretty much know all that. Occasionally I popped in to help you, like the time I helped you and Akeru escape from that Fang Inc. building.

Makoto: Thinking back, Kyoko did always have a theory that you were the one under the hood. And that you'd survived somehow. Looks like she was right.

Mukuro: I had a distinct feeling that she might catch on to me, which is why I brought Akane with me to the USA. So we could do a bait and switch and throw you off the trail.

Kuripa: Well, that was clever, I'll give you that.

——————————————————————

But...I'm afraid that's all I can tell you. A lot of our actions were taking down Zetsubou's smaller operations to give you all time to focus on the big ones.

I never saw Gyalusetsu again after joining up with Yuki and his cohorts, until last night when you two fought. I'm sorry I don't have the answers you want, Kuripa.

No. You gave me way more than enough. Thanks to you, I've filled in the blanks.

The reason Gyalusetsu saved you...I think it might have something to do with the future he was trying to create...

Mysteries Running Deeper...

[Future Foundation Branch 14 Head Office - Several Hours Later]

This feels...strange...This was basically my home for so long, but...having not been here in a year, it feels...weird coming back.

Yeah. Same is true for me. I haven't been here in a long time either.

And recently, I was worried that I might never be able to come back.

Why not?

Kyoko loves me dearly, but she knows to make tough calls. If I hadn't gotten out of that twisted headspace when I did, I...Well, you get the picture.

Makoto...I know this didn't work out so well the last time but...maybe it would be best if you sought consultation with Miaya.

I know...Maybe that would be best...still...

*He reaches out and takes her hand.

I don't think I would have been comfy spending time in this office if you weren't here in it. Shortly after you...left...every time someone came in through the door I'd raise my head hoping it'd be you but...it was never going to be.

I...I know I can't stop you from doing your duty, but...Please...Never do any of that again. For me, or for anyone else.

That's not a promise I can keep...

Well, you had fuckin' bettah...

Ah!? K-Kuripa!?

You're...WHAT!? You're ok!?

Eh...Mostly...

Hey...

*Kuripa is wheeled into the room on a chair by Uchui. His face is patched up, but his broken legs and arms are thoroughly bandaged. Uchui also has smaller bandages around his face.

Jeez...You got that face issue fixed FAST!

I told you guys, Uchui's tech is like magic.

I've done operations like this on Kuripa at least a dozen times already, but I actually had surgical help from Tsumiki and Inori this time. They insisted he take pain medicine and lie down for a few hours...not sure why since he doesn't feel pain anyway...but he insisted on coming to talk to you guys.

This is the first time he's thoroughly damaged his face, but it should be equally as persuadable. Still, it's gonna leave a nasty scar.

I don't see a scar.

Yeah, well, it'll take a while to form, but it'll pop up eventually. I might have to get stitches to prevent half my face falling off in the future.

Is...that...really how that...works?

Nah, I don't think so, but Mod Creeper was too lazy to go and add a scar to all my sprites. So hopefully it'll be on my redesign in Phase 3.

I don't know what any of those words mean, but I'm glad you're doing better.

...

So...is it really true? You really can't feel pain?

Pfft...Check the medical records if you don't believe me. They only now just got updated to include my condition.

Is that why you avoided getting medical help for so long? You didn't want anyone else knowing about your CIPA's?

Pretty much...It's...pretty personal to me. I didn't tell you guys, not because I don't trust you, but because I just don't like talking about how fucked up I am in basically every way...

How many people knew before you and Kibin told us?

[gvtterfeast]

o yea i am out of the ER now they gave me meds to slow my heart and im sleepie

[ikeromantic]

An Optimist

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction. This scene is set well after the events of the romantic epilogue and features Mitsuhide and MC in a modern setting extended story. Approx. 1200 words. TW for some violence and mentions of torture.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: On Vengeance

“Did you know that a man will say anything you want him to with the right pressure applied?” Mitsuhide sat at a table across from his groggy victim.

Sasuke stood by the door, expression flat, arms hanging loose and ready. He'd been anxious since capturing the man that tried to burn down the chatelaine's childhood home but he seemed calm enough now.

The thug blinked. He tried to rub his face only to discover his hands were tied to the chair. “What? Where -” His eyes fixed on Mitsuhide. “You!”

“Sadly yes. I’ve been me for as long as I can remember. But we’re here to find out more about you.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” He glared across at the kitsune warlord defiantly.

Mitsuhide sighed. “I expected exactly that answer. Which is why I had my friend here round up some tools from the university medical lab. As you probably already know, there just isn’t a ready market in this time for the kinds of devices I’m used to using.” He smiled sharply. “It’s a pity really. Not to boast, but I have a reputation in the Sengoku for being able to milk information from anyone.”

The thug sneered, though beneath his bravado he was already beginning to sweat. “I call bull. Let me go and you might not die for this.”

“Now you see, I already tried something like that. And the ‘boss’ in question has not kept his word. So here we are.” Mitsuhide opened up the medical bag and began to lay out the tools. Modern medical equipment wasn’t that different from the standard torturer’s tool kit. There were pincers, snips made to cut through bone, small sharp knives of varying sizes and a disturbing variety of clamps.

“You think this scares me? This is nothing.” The thug spat, sending a glob of phlegm onto the table.

Mitsuhide ignored it and took out a blindfold. “I think we’re ready to get started.” He covered the man’s eyes, tying it tightly. “Sasuke, let’s start low. Take off his shoes.”

The thug shifted in his seat. “A-aren’t you going to ask me something first?”

“No. I don’t see why I should. You are clearly too tough to spill any information without a little . . . loosening first.” The kitsune warlord tapped the man’s forehead. “I’ll do what I must to get at the information in there.”

Sasuke gave a wry half-smile and bent down to remove the man’s shoes and socks.

Blindfolded and completely at their mercy, the man squirmed in the chair. Every movement only made the ropes tighter, binding him to the wood more closely. He began to breathe hard, a rasping sound like a panting dog.

Mitsuhide patted his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll start small.” He glanced at the ninja. They’d discussed this part at length. Sasuke wasn’t willing to participate in actual torture, no matter how deserving the victim. He had a modern-day soft heart. So this was the only route. If it didn’t work . . . “I’d rather not get blood spatter on the walls. Would you kindly clamp the little toe on both feet?”

“Sure boss.” Sasuke spoke in a lower register, gruff and accented differently. He bent down and applied clamps to the toes. These would be somewhat painful. They were very tight - tight enough to cut off blood supply.

“Ah, ah what are you - that hurts!” The man gasped as the first clamp went on.

“Does it? I’ve barely gotten started.” Mitsuhide bent down close to the man’s ear. “The love of my life is unconscious in a hospital bed because of you and your boss. You tried to burn down her parent's house. If you think a little clamp is the worst thing that will happen to you in here, you are a more optimistic man than I expected.”

Sasuke applied the second clamp and then stood up. “Would you like the bone snips or the number 12 scalpel?” He rattled the tray of tools.

The thug winced.

“The snips, I think. We’ll prune him like a bonsai.” Mitsuhide picked up the snips, making sure to jostle and jingle them. Then let the cold metal brush against the man’s bare foot as he knelt down. Instead of cutting, he tightened the clamp and clacked the snips shut.

The man screamed. “Ok! Ok! I’ll talk. Please, don’t hurt me!” Then he proceeded to explain the whole sordid plan. By the end, Mitsuhide was wishing he hadn’t agreed to this bloodless torment. If anyone deserved to lose limbs, it was this man and his . . . associates.

Sasuke gave his head a slight shake. Almost as if he were the mindreader.

With a sigh, Mitsuhide stood. “I suppose that’s all we can get out of you. Time to end this.”

“No! Wait! I told you what I know!”

“Yes, and in return I allowed you to keep your fingers, toes, skin, teeth, eyes . . .” Mitsuhide’s smile was sharp and cruel. “If you were hoping for merciful, this is the best I can do.”

The ninja applied another cloth of harsh chemicals to the man’s face. The thug struggled for a moment and then went limp.

It took a bit to strip the thug. Something about deadweight and cheap cloth, but they did manage to leave him as naked as he was born. Then the two of them left him about a block from the police station with a note taped to his chest.

This was not the revenge Mitsuhide needed. His heart burned with the need to extract bloody payment. He would, he promised himself. When he got his hands on the ones giving the orders.

***

Miyake reached for the cup of water on his bedside table. His bandaged hands slipped as he lifted it and the cup fell to the floor. The spill spread in all directions as the cup bounced and then rolled against the far wall.

“Did you need something?” Kei leaned in.

She looked tired, Miyake thought. And she was still wearing the soot stained clothes from yesterday. “You slept here?” His voice was rough, his tone sharper than he meant it.

“I didn’t want to leave.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Stupid, right?”

Miyake sighed and patted a spot on his bed. “Well, at least come in and sit down.”

“Can I come too?” Masako peered in from the other side of the doorway.

“Let me guess. You both stayed, even after I told you not to.”

Masako stuck out her tongue. “You aren’t the boss of me. Besides. I needed to keep an eye on - on-” Her eyes filled with tears.

Kei pulled her into an awkward hug. “She’s gonna be fine, hon.”

“She better be,” Masako growled.

“If half what I heard about her is true, this is nothing.” Miyake tried to chuckle but ended up coughing. “Bring me some water, and I’ll tell you some tales.”

“Done.” Kei grinned. She knew he was trying to cheer them up. It showed in her eyes. But she was willing to go along with it.

A few minutes later, the girls were piled into his hospital bed like puppies.

Miyake had a fresh cup of water, with a straw so he didn’t need to lift it to his mouth. “So, remember how I told you my boss is a lord?” The ladies nodded. “Well, I’m gonna tell you what he is, and what I know about how those two met. It’s about time anyway. Everyone else knows.”

That earned him curious looks but he quelled them by beginning the story.

Next: Cold Comforts

[glittertrail]

If you wanna infodump about hanahaki disease and any other fake illnesses you might know about i would greatly appreciate the information lol (i literally only know the basics -aka unrequited love makes you cough up flowers and then you die- and have no idea on where to start researching)

BESTIE IM SORRY I KNOW ITS BEEN WEEKS

there's... not that much to infodump on to be honest, i basically discovered what was the hanahaki desease little before the plague and asking for everyone's favorite flower became a thing before and at the beginning of the plague bc of it (the first of many many mentally ill choices made that year for me and my friends)

there's not much more to hanahaki desease than what you just said, it first was used in a 2009 shoujo and became a niche-ish staple in fanfic ever since (I know it's been used in like 2 or 3 works of original media but it's mostly a fan work trope), specially lgbt+ fanwork bc ✨drama✨ and since it's relatively new there's not like a established lore besides the basic 'coughing flowers (and potentially die)' thing, that means there's a good number of variables and those are fun to play with if you are into world building (which i am this is where the nerd rambling actually begins)

About the flowers themselves: it's normally either flowers associated with the object of the unrequited love, character A or B favorite flowers, or maybe something plot relevant (aka A saw B buy a certain type of flowers so now those are the flowers A is coughing, maybe they're their favorite color, maybe one of them is named named after the flower, or the flower has a particular meaning in flower language, you get the gist)

About the mechanics of the desease: the way it works changes depending on the writer, sometimes the flowers grow in lungs (traditional), sometimes they grow directly in hearts or stomaches, you have similar but different secondary symptoms depending on how medical-ish you want to get, other than flowers coughing you can also get other issues like trouble breathing bc the lung space is limited or if they grow in hearts it means low blood pressure, and things that come with it, like fainting spells, if they grow in stomaches then there's acid reflux to take into account (... and disordered eating imagery, which, not my favorite i must say)

it's a painful, slow disease that often develops over months, if not years, and begins with coughing up a few petals, and grows in intensity and pain until the victim is coughing up entire flowers, at which point the disease has reached its final stages and if not treated, it's fatal (and sometimes even when treated bc it's too late).

((tangential but a discovery i made when asking people about their favorite flowers is that a lot of people that have allergies just consider flowers the enemy in general so this is like doubly cruel if you have one of those; the smell of flowers becomes a trigger))

The treatment: so the traditional way to cure it is fessing up to the crush and have their love be required, which has the unfortunate implications of... forcing the other character to return their feelings, which is not Great and not always possible (once again ✨drama✨). There's also the surgical option (aka get rid of the flowers via medical intervention) which sometimes has got the side effect of making the person that has the surgery lose the feelings they had towards their crush or be unable to fall in love again altogether (depends on how last resort and angsty you want to get).

There's also the mechanics of what does unrequited love mean in the context of the story; say the object of the crush accepts to go out with the character that is sick... what if they don't fall in love with them anyway? what if they do but the other person falls out of love? If the crush is requited but both parties are unaware is it still unrequited? what happens when you have characters that are aromantic or otherwise sexually incompatible?

Since the dilemma of forcing someone to reciprocate the feelings of the character affected by the desease is too much of an ick for some people bc that'd make the object of the unrequited crush potentially responsible of someone's death, sometimes there are shifts that make for interesting points in the story:

→ the reason of the desease being not the unrequited love but the refusal to face the possibility of rejection, which then explores other topics the sick character has to deal with, like issues with their self worth or perception of their own self image

→ the desease losing the deathly quality in favor of becoming more of an annoyance than anything else; which opens up another realm of possibilities like turning the deadly angsty trope into a comedy/fluff compatible prompt and broadening up the kind of love it portraits (yes ofc there's romantic love but also... getting a sudden rush of affection for your friend in a purely platonic way, remembering how much you love your pet) or other kinds of angst (it might not be deadly but the possibility of like... Being ridiculed/bullied about the unrequited crush is not off the table depending on the setting of your story)

Edit: a point I forgot to make about the flowers chosen, if favorite flowers are traditional, a world in which knowing someone's favorite flowers must be common knowledge bc how do you casually know that otherwise. The number of people that were taken aback when I started to ask people's favorite flowers was huge bc there's people that had never even thought about it or, heartwarmingly enough, people that did but never had the opportunity to talk about it and lacked the vocabulary to do so (they could point at them in pictures but the name didn't come to them) so there's considerations to be made on that respect

[macgyvermedical]

Hey, first of all I love your blog, it’s super interesting! Second... I have a weird question and since you sometimes answer medical-related questions I wanted to know if you knew anything about that. I just read in a post I found on pinterest that apparently coconut water can be used as an emergency blood transfution... Do you know anything about that? Is that true? Because it seems crazy! And sorry for any mistake, my first language is French so... Have a beautiful day!😁

Oooh this is actually something I’ve been waiting for someone to ask for a long time!

The short answer is no, coconut water would not be a replacement for blood- but (perhaps surprisingly) that does not mean it is useless in the world of low-resource emergency medicine.

Blood serves as a universal transport system for nutrients and waste throughout the body. One of blood’s most important features is that it carries oxygen and carbon dioxide. A protein in red blood cells called hemoglobin picks up oxygen in the lungs and delivers it to the body’s cells. It then picks up carbon dioxide waste from those cells and delivers it to the lungs to be breathed out.

There are many reasons why people need blood transfusions, but one of the most common is that they have too few functioning red blood cells (and thus too little hemoglobin to carry oxygen/CO2). This is either due to bleeding (from an injury, surgery, or other reason like a GI bleed), or because their body isn’t making enough red blood cells to replace the ones that die off or the red blood cells that are being produced are not functioning correctly (cancers, dialysis, various kinds of anemia).

With too few functioning red blood cells, the blood is not able to adequately carry oxygen and carbon dioxide. Cells throughout the body then starve for oxygen and can’t easily get rid of carbon dioxide waste. This causes tiredness, shortness of breath with exertion, and, if severe enough, coma and death.

So far as we know now, there is no good way of replacing that oxygen/carbon dioxide carrying capacity except adding red blood cells through transfusion. There is a medication that can encourage bone marrow to produce red blood cells faster (erythropoietin), and there are several artificial oxygen-carrying IV fluids in clinical trials (though all previous trials for these in the US were ended due to increased risk of stroke/other serious side effects).

Since coconut water does not carry oxygen, it cannot be used for blood transfusion. However, since it is sterile (while in the coconut), and contains sugars and minerals that prevent it from damaging blood cells, it can be used as an IV fluid. Used as an IV fluid, it acts similarly to normal saline. 

Which means, if you just need to increase the volume of blood in the cardiovascular system (which you might need to do in severe dehydration, low blood pressure due to blood loss, etc...) it could definitely be an option.

Another possible use for coconut water is temporary total parenteral nutrition (TPN). TPN is a special formulation of IV fluid that allows a human to temporarily go without a working digestive system by supplying nutrients directly into the blood stream. Since coconut water contains sugars, essential amino acids, and other nutrients, it can keep someone alive longer than just straight saline or dextrose in water would. However, since it lacks significant fat, protein, and vitamins, it could not be used indefinitely for this purpose.

Used as an IV solution or TPN, the setup literally would look like this, though, which is pretty cool (it stays in the coconut to stay sterile): 

(picture and info from Improvised Medicine by Kenneth V Iserson, Second Edition, 2016, McGraw Hill Eduction).

[sohotthateveryonedied]

What Will You Fall For?

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

“Either you choose, or I make the decision for you and they both die.” The man lowers his pistol to point at Damian’s temple. The boy looks more offended than scared, given that he’s stuck next to Tim with a gun being waved in his face as if he doesn’t deal with this every night. But they aren’t vigilantes right now. They are Bruce Wayne and his sons.

“Choose.” “Put the gun down.” “Choose.” “Please. You don’t have to do this.” The man’s grip on the gun tightens. Bruce doesn’t recognize him, didn’t recognize his face when he first burst into Bruce’s office. Wayne security must not have been paying attention when he got into the building. Bruce barely looked up at first when the door to his office opened, too preoccupied with Damian and Tim arguing on the leather sofa, antsy for Bruce to drive them home. Bruce never anticipated that his day would end like this. “Either you choose, or I make the decision for you and they both die.” The man lowers his pistol to point at Damian’s temple. The boy looks more offended than scared, given that he’s stuck next to Tim with a gun being waved in his face as if he doesn’t deal with this every night. But they aren’t vigilantes right now. They are Bruce Wayne and his sons.

“You and I can settle this ourselves,” Bruce says. He’s standing behind his large oak desk, not daring to move forward in case the bastard gets trigger happy. “If it’s money you want, I can get you some. I don’t care how much.”

“You think I want your money?” The man turns, aims his shaking gun at Bruce. Bruce doesn’t mind, as long as it’s not pointing at his boys. “It was your job to clean up our city. That’s what you said. All of your programs, all your fundraising to fix up crime alley, you promised to help Gotham. And then my son dies in a gang war, all because Bruce Wayne failed him. You failed him.” “I am sorry for your loss, truly. But this isn’t the solution.” “This is justice. If I have to lose my son, then so do you.” The man swivels again, his gun pointing right at Damian’s chest. Tim’s eyes widen and he looks desperately at Bruce, pleading for him to get them out of this. Damian, meanwhile, just scowls. “That’s right, cower behind your big gun. Why don’t you put down the weapon and fight me like a real man?” “Now would be a really good time for you to shut up,” Tim hisses. “No one asked for your opinion, Drake.” “He’s pointing a gun at your chest. I think I have pretty good reason to speak my mind right now.” “What, is someone scared of a little bullet?” “Why do you have to be such a prick all the time?” Bruce wants to tell them to stop, that now isn’t the time for their ceaseless bickering. He pressed the emergency button under his desk to signal their allies five minutes ago, so someone must be on their way to get them out of this. All they have to do is keep him talking until help arrives. Bruce already watched two people he loved get shot in front of him. He’s not about to witness it again. “It’s me you have a problem with, not them. They’re just kids. If you want to shoot someone who deserves it, then shoot me.” Bruce has enough bullet scars to play endless connect-the-dots. So long as the man has poor aim, Bruce is pretty sure he has a solid thirty percent chance of survival. He’s willing to take those odds. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne, but you don’t get off that easy. You deserve to feel the pain I felt when my son died.” He pulls the hammer back, raising the gun to point between Damian’s eyes. “Your time is up. Pick who dies, or I’ll kill both of them.” “Bruce,” Tim says. His eyes are narrowed, far too calm for this situation. He gulps when the gun twitches his way but doesn’t break. “It’s okay.” Nothing about this is okay. All of Bruce’s stashed gear and weapons are in the locked cabinet across the room. If he tries something now, it means a bullet through his ten-year-old’s brain matter. “He’s just a kid,” Tim agrees, as if reading Bruce’s thoughts. That’s when it finally sinks in what Tim is really talking about. “It’s okay. I won’t blame you.” “No.” “You have to choose one of us.” “I said no.” “You would rather lose another child?” He’s talking about Jason. That’s as low a blow as Tim knows how to give. “You’re my child too. I’m not losing either of you today.” Tim’s gaze is firm when he turns to face the man. “Shoot me.” “Tim,” Bruce snaps. “It’s me or Damian, and I’m not letting him die. Do it,” he tells the man. “Kill me.” “This is ridiculous,” Damian spits. “Really, Father, this idiot probably couldn’t hit a target with two eyes and a—” The air cracks with a gunshot, followed by a grunt. Bruce’s entire body goes numb and for the second time in his life, he can’t think. His entire mind goes blank, like it’s been reset to its default settings. He can’t move. He can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He scans Damian for the bullet hole, the blood, but he doesn’t find it and he should be relieved. Why isn’t he relieved? Bruce’s eyes flick to his other son and his lungs feel like they’re being squeezed in a giant fist. Blood pours from a spot in Tim’s chest, staining his white shirt in red splotches. No. Bruce barely has time to move before suddenly a batarang crashes in through the window behind him. It sinks into the man’s shoulder, making him shout and drop the gun. That turns out to be the push Bruce’s brain needed because he lunges into action. He delivers a punch so hard it rattles his skeleton and sends the man sprawling on the floor. Nightwing swings in through the shattered window. “Sorry I’m late. Is everyone okay?” “Father,” Damian says, drawing Bruce’s attention. His small hands are pressed against the wound, trying to keep as much of Tim’s blood inside of his chest as possible. Blood slips between his fingers anyway with every wheezing breath Tim takes.. “Get a medic,” Bruce orders Dick. He balls up his suit jacket and pushes away Damian’s hands, pressing the jacket to where the blood is pouring out. Tim’s face is contorted in pain, but he doesn’t make a sound. “Tim, are you with me?” “Is...is Damian okay?” “You shouldn’t have told him to shoot you. That was the stupidest thing you could have done.” “What should I have done?” “Not let him shoot you.” “Then it would be Damian instead. Is that—is that what you want?” Bruce doesn’t answer. It’s not what he wants. He wants all of his children safe and alive for as long as he can enforce it. What’s happening now, this isn’t fair. This isn’t justice. Tim coughs, wet and hacking. Blood stains his lips and chin. Damn it. There’s blood in his lungs. He doesn’t have much time. “Stay with me, Tim. Dick’s already called the paramedics, they’ll be here soon.” “Y’shouldn’t...shouldn’t use names. Identities.” Bruce looks over to where Dick has already cuffed the shooter and is dragging him out of the room. The security guards must be running late, their second failure of the day. Bruce is going to have to do something about that. “It’s not your fault,” Tim says. At first Bruce assumes he’s talking to him, but then he sees that Tim’s glazed eyes are actually on Damian. Damian, who is doing his best to push down the emotion he feels. Damian, whose hands are covered in Tim’s blood. “I know. This is all your fault.” Tim laughs, but it’s weak. “You’re just a—just a kid. You h-haven’t lived yet.” Every breath is a wheeze, Tim’s chest jerking painfully under the pressure Bruce applies. It won’t be enough. Tim needs a hospital now. “Hey, Bruce? Tell the others—” “No. You’re not dying.” “I might.” He’s too pale. How much blood has he lost? “You’re not. I won’t let you. Now shut up and keep breathing.” Tim’s eyes droop. “S’always weird...seeing you scared.” He coughs again, weaker than before. More blood splatters on his lips. “Don’t die,” Damian tells him, gripping Tim’s hand tighter and sounding too much like the child he is. “I swear to god, if you die, I will go to Hell myself and drag you back. You’re too annoying to die. Got it?” The corner of Tim’s mouth lifts. “‘Kay,” he whispers. “I’ll do it for you.”

[ohblushes]

How are you doing with the new bower chapter, feeling inspired? I would die for a little snippet, but no pressure <3

a SNIPPET you say!!!!

Patrick mumbles something that even Jonny, an expert in Patrick's mumbling, can't understand. The Birkenstocks look perilously close to slipping off his dangling feet. The whole room smells a lot like cleaner and only a little bit like omega.

"What?" the nurse says.

"I've been weaning off some pretty, uh. Some medication, I don't know if…"

"Mm," the nurse says. He's a big older beta guy, maybe taller than even Jonny, and his scrubs have umbrellas on them. He pauses for a minute while he takes Patrick's blood pressure and then says, "I wouldn't rule it out. Blood pressure's a little low. How far along are you?"

"Twelve weeks and two days," Jonny inserts.

"Any morning sickness?"

"Nope," Patrick says. "Kind of lightheaded. I haven't been sleeping great."

"Pregnancy hits everyone differently," the nurse says. "Some people skip through it, others get hit like a sack of bricks. Most people are somewhere in-between, although if you're passing out, there's something to take seriously. Do you have an obstetrician?"

"Uh, yeah," Patrick says, "but I don't - I don't remember the name?"

Jonny feels his spine stiffen. "Pregnancy brain?" the nurse says kindly.

"No, I just normally - I've been seeing my." His eyes flick over to Jonny. "My omega specialist," he says. "She knows an obstetrician who's going to help her with the delivery, but she's been handling everything."

"She works here," Jonny inserts. Patrick looks a little surprised.

"Yeah, she does," he says. "Dr. Lynn Sievers."

"Okay," the nurse says. "I'm going to let her know, we'll get her in here if she's available and if not, we're gonna take good care of you." He pats Patrick's hand; Patrick looks a lot horrified. At least there's plenty of hand sanitizer around. "What's the medication?"

"Estranephren," Patrick says.

The nurse whistles. "That's heavy stuff, that might be at play here. Wrist still doing okay?" He waits for Patrick to nod and then continues, "Good. You said you're tapering off the Estranephren, what was the original dosage?"

Patrick mumbles something. It takes Jonny a minute to decipher it.

"A hundred and - a hundred and fifty?"

"Yeah," Patrick says. "I'm down to fifty now."

"Jesus, kid. And you were taking the full dose when you conceived?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay," the nurse says. "That could definitely be a problem. I'm going to get a doctor in here to look at that wrist, we'll give you something for the pain and take some x-rays." Patrick's starting to look white around the edges, so Jonny's pretty fucking happy to hear about the last one. "Hang tight for me, okay? And just flag someone down in the hall if you need anything. It'll be just a few minutes."

Actually, Jonny's pretty fucking pissed off, now that he thinks about it. "Can't you give him something for the pain now?" he demands.

[undertaker1827]

Hey all!! This is a part two of the story I wrote where Grell’s s/o (Ciel’s mother figure) dies, which was requested in the comments of the original fic. If you haven’t read the first one, please do that as this makes no sense by itself. Also, I’ve reverted back to female pronouns for Grell in this one aaand guess which mortician rocks up 😁 Can be seen as Grell x Undertaker (I do like that one myself) but that’s not actually the idea. And finally (I swear I’ll shut up in a minute) the method used to stop a panic attack is a genuine one, it works very well.

❗️Warnings; heavy angst all the way through, death, blood, a panic attack, spoilers for chapters 140, 141 and 149.

Masterlist

-

Grell swallowed hard as she turned away from William, striding out into the corridor as fast as possible. Only a few reapers gave her a second glance, but she didn’t run into anyone she knew personally, so for that she was grateful. She left through reception and made her way back to her apartment, swapping the coat she usually wore for a red trench. It was slightly too big for her, so she wound it around herself like a cocoon, tying the fabric belt in a big loop then leaving once more.

The crimson reaper - ex reaper now? She wasn’t really sure - started walking around London. She had no aim or purpose, just needing to not sit still. Her hands were curled into fists and stuffed deep in the pockets of the coat, breath hanging in pockets in the frigid air behind her, street lamps only doing so much to push back the darkness of fallen night. Grell wasn’t watching where she was going, head low and eyes sore. The tears had stopped, but she knew how little it would take for them to start again, even though she had already cried so much. She felt an awful hollowness, left both by your parting and from the exhaustion that comes from truly crying your heart out.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she walked straight into something - someone - and tripped over a cobblestone. She managed to rip her hands out of her pockets to break her fall about halfway down, only she never met the floor. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, one around her shoulders and the other at her waist then hauled her upright and into a firm chest. The other person held her still for a moment, as if ensuring she was now steady on her feet, before pulling back a bit to see her face. A bout of maniacal laughter quickly drew her attention once more to be met with silver bangs rather than eyes and a mortician’s black robes.

“Well, if it isn’t the reaper who was playing Madam Red’s butler! We meet again...” He trailed off into a giggle and stepped back, taking in everything Grell’s features and body language were telling him.

“Undertaker..?” She murmured, suddenly at a loss for what to do. She should be utterly repelled by him, right? What he did back on the ship was unforgivable for a reaper, and he certainly was one even if he did quit dispatch. In fact, now she had too, didn’t that make them kind of the same? She didn’t know, too tired to work it out. A nail tapping against her forehead made her blink rapidly and focused her gaze once again on the grey hair.

“You don’t look all that grand now though, do you? What’s happened to you, I wonder..”

Those few words were enough to send Grell’s mind careening back to the warehouse, the To-Die list, your crumpled body and your blood staining the concrete crimson. The blood pounding in her own ears and the sound of that wretched death scythe dragging on the rough floor, the look on William’s face.

You monster. You knew what they meant to me when you gave me that list.

A fresh wave of nausea took over the reaper’s body and she screamed in agony, tears streaming from her eyes and breathing heavy and erratic, yet still she clutched at her chest, unable to breath, unable to think -

The mortician saw the warning signs, thought process calmly identifying panic attack, the supplying him with chamomile, lemon. They had crossed paths right outside the parlour anyway, so by the timeUndertaker had half dragged, half carried the other reaper inside he doubted she even realised they had moved. He snapped her out of it by shoving a lemon in her mouth, engaging the automatic reflex of biting down and the resulting horrible taste preventing her brain from continuing to panic.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She yelled, launching herself at the older reaper only to stop halfway through. “How did you do that?” Undertaker just grinned and brandished the lemon at her.

“Forces your brain to focus.” Grell gave a non-commital hum but said nothing further, eyes becoming slightly glazed in thought. Undertaker was no fool; he knew what that type of crying meant. She’d lost someone incredibly important to her, which was a feeling he knew only too well. It was fatal for a reaper to involve themselves with humans. Since she was here anyway, the mortician made some chamomile tea and offered her a cup, surprised to find she accepted it. She must have been too exhausted to retaliate.

The pair sat for a while in silence, though Undertaker did eventually ask what Grell was doing in London. He did so idly, as if asking about the weather so as not to pressure her.

“I quit.” That certainly drew the older reaper’s attention, the small movement of his head so sharp that his bangs shifted enough the reveal part of a glowing chartreuse eye. It was enough to set an alarm bell in Grell’s head, something Othello had said about her not being able to win against him one on one.

“Quit what?”

“Dispatch. I deserted, just like you.” She gave a small, humourless scoff. “Suppose I know now how you felt.” The mortician let out a silent breath, his own mind straining and wanting to wander.

“Being seduced by the lives of humans is always a mistake for one of us,” he murmured softly, the feeling of dusky blue hair under his fingertips and a gentle, loving voice in his ear suddenly far too real.

“They-” Grell’s voice caught, “they wanted me to… to reap-” She gave a single, suppressed sob, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes and trying to take calming breaths. “I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. But Will knew. He knew and he did nothing!” She rested her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her arms, sighing once more. She barely registered the sound of movement as the other reaper sat down next to her on the coffin, though she couldn’t help but tense and turn her head when she felt his arms around her once more.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he muttered, voice dropping to the softer one she remembered from the Campania. Too tired to care if she was making a mistake or not, Grell allowed herself to be slowly pulled into a tighter hug, wrapping her arms around the mortician in return. Neither spoke for a long while, though she had allowed her eyes to close when she felt his chin come to rest on top of her head. “Was there a reason you came to me?” He asked at last, voice quiet in the predawn stillness.

“It wasn’t intentional,” the other reaper whispered back, “I was just blindly walking. Coincidence, maybe.”

“Maybe,” he hummed back, “though I have a proposition for you. What would you do if I told you there might be a way to bring them back?” Grell moved so quickly Undertaker found even he couldn’t easily follow it. Her head knocked back into his jaw and he huffed in annoyance, though said nothing of it when he saw her face. Pure, unadulterated desperation was ingrained into her every feature, though the look turned gloriously murderous with her next words.

“If you’re lying to me, even in the slightest way-”

“I can swear to you, in full confidence, that I’m not. Look here.” He stood and walked over to another coffin lying horizontally on the floor, gently taking hold of the lid and pulling it back. Grell’s eyes widened at the sight of the boy laying inside, body suspended in fluid and attached to medical equipment far too advanced for the Victorian era of the human world. She met Undertaker’s gaze once more, who was now starting to smirk. “Go get them back.”

[vtforpedro]

LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3

[kemonoinuzuka]

Ahkalla/2224771XS15/Luna part 3

The scenario is I’m guarding the kids while out at a park. A stranger and their dog come forward to attack and kidnap the children for ransom. My job is simple, protect the children with lethal force. I scent the air and I’m startled to smell another werewolf, but also exhilarated.

This male has no idea whose family he is messing with! She gets low watching the two approach. She gives them a feral snarl as a warning.

Hinton watches closely from behind the safety glass. Standing at the ready to rush in, he has a bad feeling about this. “Worried about your high dollar mutt? Don’t worry XS17 will only rough her up a bit.” Handler Slater sided next to him. “These beasts are a whole other ballgame aren’t they? We still don’t know everything about them, and they are so violent. You got lucky though, first female we caught. I bet she was easy to brake.”

Hinton took his eyes off the scenario to look Slater. “Actually she still fights...not as much as before but the Owner wants her to fight. And truth be told I’m more worried about your mutt.” He looks back to find the two wolves in full combat the handler on the ground struggling to breath and Luna on top of the male wolf wailing into his face over and over again. “We better get out there, Slater!”

I struggle against the arms wrapped around me, that wolf must die! How dare he! How dare he insult my Master! Or the Master’s kids! She shifts to get out of the idiots arms and latches onto the other wolf as they both brawl. Jaws snapping, blood and saliva fly as the two battle. All the handlers can do is watch until back up arrive. The shock collars having no effect, they keep calling for back up.

The two beasts stop fighting as she has him pinned to the ground jaws crushing the life out of the male wolf. “Luna, Enough!” Handler Hinton calls. She lets go and settles back shaken by what she has done. She has been very bad. Very very bad, and now she was going to be punished... the muzzle and leash in place they leave the room quickly. Hinton leads her to the groomer and locks my muzzle to the wall. “She has been injured we need to clean her and treat her wounds. The other wolf is in critical condition and in the med wing now.”

Hollow. I feel empty. No fear, no anger, no anything. I was bad, I hurt another trainee....but I wasn’t afraid of being punished. I felt everything and nothing at the same time. I could feel the water and chemicals wash the blood from my fur, but not the chilled water, nor the cleansing sting of the chemical cleaner they used. I can feel the pressure of the needle as it threads my wounds closed but not the piercing pain that should send tingles down my spine.

They’re talking but I hear no sound just the thud thud thud thud of my own heart. I had tasted blood, and it felt natural....the thrill of the fight had been everything. Everything had been so sharp and focused as if time itself had slowed. And then Handler Hinton was yelling at me enough....the instincts in me told the truths of his wounds. Without the proper know how, he will die. Electrical currents run through me causing me to startle, as a gentle touch pats and scratches around the base of my ears.

Without looking I know it’s him. My senses come to live and I can hear them talking. At first it sounded like echoes through water and then became clear. Hinton is fetching me a box, I’m going home. Master runs his hand along my spine just between my shoulder blades. He presses down suddenly and I’m not ready for the pain the forced transformation brings.

POV change Master Ingborge

My poor Luna, these fools have no idea how volatile a young female lycan can be. Wiping the tears from her face and injecting her with the drug to help her stay asleep during the trip, he barks orders to the other useless handlers nearby to bring him the other trainee. He secures her comfortably in the box making sure she is secured for the long journey.

“Sir, the other trainee is in medical surgery we can’t bring him to you.” A new hire explained nervously. The smell of fear heavy about him and the way his veins became red to my vision. “My name in Mr. Ingborge, to you. Show me to him so I might save him from you fools. My wolf hurt him it’s the least I can do.” The handler opens his mouth the day something but quickly closes it and beckons him to follow. “That’s a good boy, Handler.”

@livingforthewhump

[nimsajlove]

Warm

This is kinda related to the brothers-au, but you can take it as an alternate ending. In a reality, where the war ended and everyone is safe, at least the clones, Anakin and the other Jedi.

Ao3

*~*

It was dark and hot. Panting, she tried to get up and look around. In doing so, she discovered two things. First, she felt so incredibly light and her head was spinning. However, her body remained chained to the ground. Second, there was nothing really to see. It was dark around her and when she at least put her hands up, her fingers quickly met resistance. There were just a few inches of air between her face and what felt like a hot stone under her fingers. Why was it so hot? 

Her thoughts were slow and only with thinking really hard, the images of the last few minutes returned. Or hours? The moment, the building swayed. That small second, in which she had pushed the other three figures away from her. She still knew that Rex had hit the ground pretty hard and wondered briefly, if she had given him another head injury ... wouldn't be the first, the captain would get up again. Like always! She digged her way back into her memories. Actually, this had been a peace mission, after all these years she should be allowed to fulfill her task as Jedi! Where did the bomb come from? She puzzled over it for a moment, then gave up. Lying here any longer wouldn't do her any good, her fingertips got cold and it worried her a little, given the heat around her!

With a grunt, she pulled her hands to her head and felt around at her wrist, the communicator was still in place and she pressed it firmly, there was a low squeak and she sighed, thanking every little god she knew, that the little device was still working. In fact, someone answered her too. "General! Where are you?”, somebody called, it sounded a bit hectic and she thought she recognized Fives. He always sounded like that when she threw herself in danger again. At least, since she'd actually taken a shot for him and was not able to walk for nearly two weeks. But hey, they got him out of the trouble and everything was back to normal, kind of! "Don't know... downstairs?", she tried to grin and noticed how her face hurt and a little dust got into her mouth. She turned her head in disgust and spat the dirt out again, tasted blood and spat again, ran her tongue over her lips. Yep, that was blood indeed! 

"Not funny, Snips.", growled another voice and now she had to laugh after all, the movement shook something against her ribs and she stopped, it hurted more than she would have thought. She ran one hand down to her ribs and gently pressed on her flesh, she didn't had to be a medic to feel the narrow pipe. It appeared to pierce a lung and she suspected that the pressure on her body alone was keeping her alive. But for how long? She had grown up on the battlefield and knew the results of such injuries. She couldn't remember a single case, where Kix or the other medics had been successful. And now he wasn't here, but at home! In preparation for the next mission for the reconstruction... "We will come down to you, I think I got your location.", she heard her former master again and she thought about it. How thick was the layer of building debris above her? "Master, I don't know...", she mumbled and ran a hand over her face, damn tears! The only response she received were curses and rebukes. She was silent, did not answer. She didn't wanted those curses to be the last thing they had in conversation. 

She rubbed her face again and was angry, she normally had better control of her emotions! But she couldn't dismiss the fear that crept into her throat. Should that be it now? She had survived the war, Palpatine, and all that crap. Had offered her master an anchor and had promised to train Luke in a few years. Just to die down here now, alone and cold? She had thought the war was over... The fear of death was joined by another and she reached for her comlink again. "Rex?", she asked, her voice was shaking ab bit, and there was silence for a few seconds. Then there was a soft crack, it indicated a slightly unstable connection and she suddenly feared, that the conversation would simply break off. "Yes?", the clone answered, panting, she heard the others working in the background and her heart clenched hard in her chest. She couldn't hear them down here, so the layer was definitely too thick! "How's your head?", she asked, suppressing a sniff, it was good to hear something and she didn't want to miss anything. "I'm fine, but I'll pay you back." The answer came as half of a joke and she smiled, although small tears continued to run down her cheeks. "Have you already found out how...", she wanted to end the question, but was interrupted by a cough and simply swallowed the blood. Every time she turned her head, she was afraid of having to vomit, so she preferred to lie still.

“Yes, Fives got his hands on him practically straight away. Don't worry.” She let the calm voice lull her in a little and almost felt guilty. She knew, that Rex had nightmares as much as anyone else. That he was afraid too. But in moments like these, he hid all of this well. It made her feel at home, something that had been with her for years. Her eyes hurted and she closed them, she couldn't see anything anyway. The cold had crept up to her elbows like cold water. She no longer felt the communicator under her fingertips and was afraid again, that she would suddenly just be alone. "You're taking care of them, aren't you?", she asked, her tongue was so strangely heavy in her mouth and a thought popped up in her light head. She always thought she would die quickly. Simple. But this was so different. Now the captain's voice became harder and she heard the stern tone, that had brought the men back to their feet again and again. “You won't get rid of us that easily. Just give us a few more minutes." 

The whole time she doubted, that she would be able to notice when the three of them reached her. But at some point she heard the scratching above her and a cloud of dust trickled down to her. She wanted to cough, but every breath was already too much for her. She was freezing terribly and her arms were numb, she didn't believe that she could still use the comlink, although calm voices persuaded her the entire time. She didn't knew, when she'd last replied and when she tried to think she felt sick. Though, she actually felt miserable enough to throw up all the time. "Please tell us, that we're at least digging in the right place.", Fives muttered in the comlink and she thought, he was talking more to himself and to others than to her. Another few minutes passed before a fine beam of light appeared next to her head and she turned her head slightly. A familiar hand reached into the tiny hole and felt around a little, then the gap widened and a narrow torso pushed its way into it. 

"Hey, Snips.", Anakin muttered, his smile slowing her frantic heartbeat. With an effort, the corners of her mouth pulled up a little and she stretched her numb arm a little helplessly in his direction, she did not feel him gripping her wrist. Her tongue was too heavy, but she was glad not to lie alone in the dark any longer, forced to just wait. If the men's words had already been balm for her soul, then this was like a beacon that drove away the darkness. Breathing heavily, she tried to return the grip and saw the exact moment, when Anakin realized how weak she really was. His gaze routinely scanned her and his face hardened, as he absorbed the severity of the injuries. She saw his shoulders pull up and wanted to comfort him, she fought against her own body and managed to loosen her tongue. "Took you a long time.", she mumbled and watched, as the three men enlarged the hole further. Eventually the two clones climbed in too and didn't hesitate to get her free. However, they all had their lips pressed to a thin line, and Ahsoka hated that they looked so seriously. The war was over! 

"Kix would be handy.", she gasped when Anakin checked the back of her chest with his long fingers without turning her over. Rex grumbled, but Fives gave her a weak smile. “Oh really?", he muttered and she had to smile, until the pain made her grimace. Hands grabbed her and moved her gently. "Doesn't go through, must have come from above.", her old master stated and she broke out in a cold sweat, when she even thought about changing her current position. However, there was no way around it. 

She gritted her teeth and let herself be pulled out of the hole and lifted. As she lay on a stretcher, the suddenly bright world turned wildly around her and she swallowed at the nausea. When did the others join them? The edges of the world blurred as she was loaded into a Gunship and she tried to find the others. Where were they? Tears began to gather in her eyes, as hands appeared and gently rested on her shoulders. On her cheeks, on her montreals, soothing hands were placed everywhere, warming her cold body. She blinked again, the world was strangely dark and cloudy, but she wasn't alone. She tried to concentrate, the pain was just dull and she was trembling slightly, tiredness reached out for her. "Take care of them!", she puffed into Rex and she saw his face suddenly soften. He stroked her cheek, she felt his thumb catch a tear and wipe it away. "Of course, vod’ika.", he muttered and she was satisfied, turned her gaze to Anakin and Fives. "Don't do anything dumb!", she growled, trying to appear stern. The rattle in her chest might work against that. Still, both nodded and she sighed, her heartbeat dropping again. It was like sinking into meditation. Peaceful, kind of. "Its okay. Sleep a bit, rest.", her former master mumbled and she nestled her face in the offered warmth. She felt the vibration of the ship and heard the quiet conversations of the other clones around her. Then it got dark. She was warm.

[i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind]

Alternative Ending

Here’s my attempt at writing an alternative ending. Of course it’s whumpy, this is me we are talking about. But I hope you enjoy it all the same. 

Special thanks to @lurkingwhump​, @unorthodox-oblivion​ and @guadalajara92​ for listening to me ramble about this. 

This is for my @badthingshappenbingo​ bingo square “poison/venom”

She could hear her husband, saying all of these wonderful things to her - trying to convince her that she was a good person. 

“Jane, you’ve done a lot of good things - and a hell of a lot more good than bad.” he smiled at her gently. “You’re allowed to be done… we both are.”

Jane closed her eyes, nodding. She really hoped that he was right. She was so tired of it all. She just wanted peace. 

Without warning, a wave of vertigo washed over her, her consciousness fading. 

She swayed, Kurt reaching out for her. “Woah - hey! Woah, Jane! What’s wrong?!” His steady touch seemed to ground her, bring her back. She opened her eyes to look at him, fear in her heart. 

“I don’t think I have much time left.” she murmured shakily. “I need to get more antidote before it’s too late.” Her breathing was accelerating, her ears buzzing. She knew the ZIP was close. It was an all too familiar feeling. 

“Hey… Patterson we need to cut these wires now!” Kurt called. He could see the worry in his wife’s eyes and knew they were quickly running out of time. Jane wasn’t one to show weakness, so to be able to see her fading this quickly was incredibly scary. 

Jane tried to focus on Rich and Patterson bickering in her earpiece. Her head was swimming and her ears were buzzing. She was trying with all her might to remain conscious.

“Cut the green wire!” Patterson called. Jane and Kurt directed their cutters to the right wires.

“Got it!” Kurt replied. 

 “Simultaneously!” Patterson and Rich called in unison. 

“Argh!” Jane growled. The whole city was depending on them… if they were wrong… 

She looked up at Kurt. 

“Five seconds…”

“You ready?”

Kurt pulled her towards him, capturing her lips with his own. If Patterson and Rich were wrong, and they were about to cut the wrong wire… then he would be damned if his last moment wasn’t going to be kissing his wife. 

In a silent communication, they cut their respective wires in perfect unison. They broke their kiss, gasping in relief. 

“We did it!” Kurt cried, grasping her arms. 

“We did it!” Jane repeated, completely shocked they had actually stopped the bomb from detonating. 

She glanced up at him lovingly, knowing in her heart that this would be the last time she saw his face. She knew she was about to die. She knew her time had finally run out. Within seconds, the ZIP buzzing in her ears reached its peak. Her vision flashed, before her knees buckled, collapsing to the ground with a hard thwack!  She could hear Kurt’s cries of anguish, before the world rose up and swallowed her whole. 

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

“Jane!” Kurt yelled, scrambling to his knees and leaning over her. He checked her pulse, his breath catching when he couldn’t find one. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god - fuck!

“Help! I need medics!” Kurt called to the empty square. “Tasha!?” he cried, turning Jane so she was lying on her back. He started CPR, wondering why the fuck he was yet again trying to save her. When were they going to catch a break? Would they ever be able to lead a normal life? 

“Patterson!?” he called through his comms, “I need medics now!”

“They’re on their way Kurt…” Patterson replied, though he could hear the fear in her voice. 

Kurt continued giving his wife compressions, until Tasha showed up with the medics. It was only minutes later, but it felt like forever. 

The medics quickly took over, assessing the situation. Tasha gently pulled Kurt away, giving them room to work. 

Kurt watched helplessly as they tried to bring Jane back, Tasha’s firm hold on his arm the only thing stopping him from running back to his lifeless wife. Was he really about to lose her? They had just been handed a fresh start… a clean slate… he couldn’t go through the rest of his life without her. It was just too cruel. 

The paramedic performing the compressions stopped to check for a pulse, placing one hand on top of Jane’s head, and the other on her neck. He shook his head, swapping places with the other medic as not to not exhaust himself . The second medic started performing compressions again. 

Kurt couldn’t help the cry of anguish that escaped his throat. Tears leaked from his eyes and he watched his wife die. Tasha continued to hold his arm, her own tears running down her face. 

A couple of minutes later, they stopped compressions again, checking her pulse. 

“I’ve got something!” the second medic cried. At those words, Kurt sagged to the ground, relief pouring out of him in ragged cries. Tasha rubbed his shoulder, her own breath hitching. 

They watched as the medics placed an oxygen mask over Jane’s face and connect her to a monitor to track her pulse. Knowing they were starting to pack her up to take her to the hospital, Kurt chose that moment to pick himself up off the ground. He needed to tell the medics of her history - that there was no point taking her to the hospital. 

He strode forward, just as they had loaded her onto a gurney and lifted it to standing level. He grabbed his wife’s hand before addressing the medics. 

“We need to get her back to the New York Office. She’s been poisoned and the antidote is in the medical bay… it’s the only thing that will save her.” Kurt explained. 

The medics shared a look. This was an unorthodox situation. 

“Please…” Kurt continued, gearing up to have to beg. “It’s the only thing that will save her life.”

The lead medic thought for a moment, before nodding. “Ok.” Was all he said before they loaded Jane into the back of the ambulance. “We will meet you there.”

With that they were gone. 

Kurt ran back to Tasha. “Come on.” he said quietly, before they took off at a run towards their vehicle. They sped all the way back to the NYO, lights and sirens on. Kurt let Tasha drive, too nervous to pay attention to the road. He wrung his hands together… would she still be alive when they got there? We’re they making the right decision not taking her to the hospital? 

They made it to the office a short while after the ambulance arrived. Jane was still unconscious when Tasha and Kurt made it to the medbay. Doctor Horne had already started an IV and was administering the antidote. 

Kurt stopped short when he saw Jane’s face. She looked lifeless still, her face pale, her lips blue. Veins stuck out of her forehead and tracked down her neck. 

“Oh… Jane…” he whispered, moving to hold her hand. He stood to the side, not wanting to get in the way of the medical team, but also needing to physically touch her. 

“Let’s get some warming blankets on her.” Doctor Horne directed. 

Kurt looked up at the monitor. Her heart rate was slow, her blood pressure was low and her temperature was sitting at 94.6°. She was still dying. There was still a chance she wouldn’t make it. 

He squeezed her hand, praying to a God he didn’t believe in to spare her. He felt her hand squeeze back and looked up hopefully, only for his heart to plummet into his gut. Jane’s eyes had rolled into the back of her head, her body locked in a grand mal seizure. She started thrashing about the bed, the staff moving quickly to hold her down.

“Turn her on her side!” Doctor Horne instructed, holding the oxygen mask to her face. 

There was not a lot they could do but wait the seizure out. Kurt watched them administer some medication into Jane’s IV line, which seemed to help stabilise her heartbeat, but the seizure didn’t stop. 

After a long sixty seconds, Jane’s body slowly started to calm down, her rigid muscles relaxing. Doctor Horne opened Jane’s eyelids, flashing her penlight into her eyes. 

“Both pupils are equal and responsive, let’s just leave her on her side for a bit, just in case she gets sick.”

Kurt moved back towards the bed, stroking his unconscious wife’s hair. He took in a shuddering breath, trying to stop the tears from leaking down his face. 

Once the seizure had passed, the excess medical staff left the room, leaving them in near quiet - minus the beep of her heart rate and the drip of the antidote. 

“Weller…” Tasha said softly. “Here.” She had brought a chair over for him so he could keep a vigil beside Jane. “I’m gonna go update Patterson and Rich… if you need me… call.” she said before walking out the door. 

Truth be told Kurt had almost forgotten that she was there. His only focus was the near lifeless form lying on the bed in front of him. 

“Hold on Jane… just a while longer.”

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Kurt sat in his chair, watching his wife. Her temperature seemed to have stabilised, the antidote finally showing signs of working. Her oxygen levels, heart rate and blood pressure normalising. They had switched her oxygen mask to a nasal cannula, giving her body a bit of extra help. 

He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. 

“It’s all over now baby… you’re going to be ok… the doctor said you’ve got a rough few days ahead of you… so you just rest while you can.”

Jane’s face screwed up in pain. She whimpered, choosing to ignore his request and wake up anyway. She shifted on the bed, trying to find a position that didn’t send tendrils of pain shooting through her entire body. 

“Jane?” 

His voice was like a pain killer, allowing her a moment of respite. She cracked her eyes open, blindly searching for his face. 

“Kurt?” she uttered weakly, coughing softly as her pain flared again. 

She felt him squeeze her hand, but she still couldn’t see him. 

“’Oh!” she cried, before her pain stole her breath away. 

“Jane?” Kurt asked again, his voice urgent. “Doctor… Doctor please! Help her!” Jane could hear the fear in his voice as he begged. She frowned. She didn’t want him to be sad. 

She heard a new set of footsteps as the doctor entered the room. She felt the pull on her IV before a cold substance entered her bloodstream. The cold quickly warmed though, until her entire body was floating in a euphoric haze. 

She drifted off again, the last thought going through her head was ‘who had been jumping on her chest?’

Kurt watched her fall back into a fitful sleep. He frowned when he saw her shiver under the blankets, standing to fetch a warming blanket from the cupboard, and gently laying it on her shuddering body. 

“Shhh.” he murmured, stroking her hair off her face. “Just relax.” 

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Jane woke up a few hours later, slowly opening her eyes. She blinked heavily, trying to get her blurry vision to focus. 

“Kurt?” she whispered, her voice cracking. She winced in pain, her entire body feeling as if it had been beaten to a pulp. 

“Hey.” he murmured, moving into her line of sight. “How are you doing?”

Jane swallowed thickly, a soft groan escaping. 

“That good huh?” Kurt said gently, kissing her forehead softly. She definitely felt warmer than before. Things seemed to be looking up. 

“What happened?” she mumbled weakly, still trying to get her sight to focus. 

At Kurt’s silence, she turned her head towards him, trying to make out the expression on his face. She could hear him struggling, could feel the fear pouring out of him. 

“The ZIP.” was all he managed to say before it all came flooding back.The hallucinations, the bomb in Times Square, the ZIP buzzing in her ears… the feeling of complete helplessness as her body shut down completely. 

“Oh…”

“You’re heart stopped… I had to give you CPR for close to five minutes… the medics managed to get you back. You’ve been here for a few hours already… the antidote seems to be working this time.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both realising just how close she had come to dying. 

“That would be why I can’t see properly.” she added quietly. The rest of her symptoms were to be expected, and the CPR explained why her chest was so sore. 

“You can’t see?” Kurt asked worriedly. He moved closer to the bed, looking into her searching eyes. 

“I can see, but everything is just a blur.” 

She sighed exhaustedly, her eyes falling closed. She was far too tired to even try and comprehend what that could mean. 

“Go back to sleep.” Kurt soothed. “It’s still the middle of the night.” He kissed her forehead before smoothing her hair back off her face. Her breathing evened out almost instantly. Kurt sat back in his chair, trying to work out how he had ever gotten so lucky. It seemed the antidote was working. She was going to be ok. 

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Jane started vomiting violently a couple of hours later. The first time scared Kurt, as she had gone from quietly sleeping, to retching forcefully onto the floor. He had jumped to her side, pulling her hair off her face and supporting her so she didn’t fall off the bed. 

The doctor had come in after a few episodes, explaining that this was one of her body’s ways of expelling the ZIP from her system. She said to prepare for some untoward symptoms, but that she should be fine in a few days - much like a virus. 

Her fever spiked with the vomiting, climbing to the point where Kurt had to remove all of her blankets and place a cold washcloth on her forehead. 

“If she carries on like this for much longer, I’m going to have to recommend we transfer her to the hospital.” Doctor Horne said, rubbing Jane’s back as she heaved into a bucket. Sweat was pouring off of her. 

Jane spat into the bucket, her eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. 

“No.” she practically begged. “I’m ok here…” she was cut off by another bout of vomiting, her body rejecting the ZIP in the only way it knew how - with sheer force. 

Kurt moved forward to pull her hair off her face, the doctor continuing to rub her back. Jane whimpered as she felt her stomach try to turn itself inside out.  

“Jane…” Kurt murmured when she got her breath back. She lay back on the pillows, her eyes closed in complete exhaustion. She shook her head. 

“Your fever is getting pretty high.” Doctor Horne said. “And if you continue vomiting the way you are, I don’t think we are well enough equipped to keep up with your hydration… I would just feel more comfortable…”

“No…” Jane said again, though Kurt could tell the fight was draining from her. 

“Jane... please.” He practically begged. “You need proper medical care… the antidote is working… there’s nothing more that Doctor Horne can do for you.”

Jane sighed, cracking her eyes open. She knew she was being silly. She knew that after everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours that she still needed medical intervention, she just really didn’t want to go back to the same place where the ZIP had nearly killed her the first time. 

She looked into her husband's eyes. Seeing how worried and exhausted he was, she relented. She gave him a curt nod in affirmation. 

“I’ll arrange for an ambulance.” Doctor Horne said, leaving them alone. 

Kurt wet her washcloth, placing it back on her forehead. He moved across to the sink to wash out the bucket, before returning to her. 

“Thank you.” he whispered, sitting on the side of her bed carefully. “I know you’re scared… but it’s the best place for you.”

Jane opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. She knew that he could see right through her. 

“Jane…” he said softly. “Talk to me.” He could see her internal struggle and wanted to at least try and make things a little easier for her. 

“I just hate hospitals.” she muttered, shifting on the bed to try and get more comfortable. She groaned when the movements flared her pain and jostled her already queasy stomach. Kurt clasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in support. 

“I know… but I really think you going is our best course of action. You’re already sick, and we don’t know what else could happen.”

Jane grimaced at the thought of any other potential ailments that could plague her body. She already felt wretched. 

She sighed. 

“I know it’s the best place for me to be… I just hate the thought of being back in the same place I nearly died… especially when it’s from the same cause.”

There. She said it. Her biggest vulnerability laid out on a silver platter. 

Kurt moved off the bed, sitting back on his chair so he was eye level with her. He took her hand again, stroking his thumb up the small of her wrist. 

“Jane…” he started, kissing her fingers gently. “This is different… you’ve already received the antidote… you’re not dying… not anymore.” he added sombrely. 

Jane looked up at him, trying to get her eyes to focus on his face… what she wouldn’t give to be able to see his eyes right now. 

“Your symptoms are just worse than what they can manage here… you’re not going to the hospital to die… you’re just going there to be observed… so you can get the best care as your body fights this.” He shifted again, moving back into the bed with her. He needed to hold her, to have that physical contact - and he knew she did too. 

Jane squeezed his hand, taking a shaky breath. 

“You’ll stay with me?” she asked in a small voice. Kurt's heart cracked at the vulnerability, but he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped past his lips. 

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight after the last twenty four hours, then you’re sadly mistaken.”

He felt her muscles relax at that. At least he knew he could offer her some semblance of comfort, just by being close to her. 

He heard her stomach gurgle, before her eyes squeezed shut and she started inhaling through her nose sharply. She held on tightly to the bed, trying to ground herself and swallowed convulsively. 

“You gonna be sick again?” he asked knowingly, already reaching for the bucket. 

Jane groaned miserably. 

“This is disgusting.” she complained, before her body was wracked with heaves again. 

Kurt winced in sympathy, placing the washcloth on the back of her neck. 

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Jane was transferred successfully to the hospital. They moved her to a ward straight away, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get any rest in the ER. Thankfully, in moving to the hospital, she had access to some strong antiemetics, and therefore was able to sit up without wanting to puke. 

They had moved a comfortable chair into the room for Kurt, knowing that after everything she had been through, he wouldn’t want to leave her. Another good thing about going back to the hospital where she was treated for her ZIP poisoning the first time, was the staff all remembered them. They had built a relationship with Jane and Weller and were therefore a little more accommodating than they usually would be. Kurt had to thank his lucky stars that they didn’t make him leave the moment visiting hours were over. 

Jane’s temperature continued to climb. Now that the vomiting had stopped, cramps ripped through her system. She was starting to get very worried that she was about to lose the battle at the other end. The ZIP was still trying to force its way out. 

Jane looked up at her husband from her curled position on the bed, frowning at the growing discomfort in her gut. 

“You ok?” he asked sympathetically. 

Jane shook her head. 

“I feel awful.” she admitted. “How come this didn’t happen the first time?” she asked, wincing as the pain in her stomach flared out into the muscles in her legs. 

“I asked Patterson that on the way over.” he replied. He had followed the ambulance to the hospital, protocol dictating he couldn’t ride with her. “She said that her antidote works a little differently. It essentially cleans out your system… she said that your body thinks it is fighting an infection, that’s why it is reacting this way.” 

Jane groaned, the pain tracking up into her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out an uncharacteristic whimper of pain. 

The pain in her stomach disappeared, her bowels thankfully calming down, though the absence of pain didn’t last long as the agony in her head grew. 

The doctor chose that moment to come through on her way past, stopping in to check on them. 

“Not doing so well, hmm?” she asked, introducing herself as Doctor Michaels. 

Jane shook her head, before crying out at the sudden movement. 

The doctor looked at her chart. 

“Painkillers not working?” she asked rhetorically. “Unfortunately I can’t give you anymore. This is an unprecedented treatment, and therefore I don’t want to give you any medication that could interfere. Opiate based painkillers are listed.”

Jane cracked her eyes open in reply. The pain in her head had escalated to a full blown migraine. She shied away from the lights, closing her eyes again to try and get a small moment's reprieve. 

“Here.” the doctor said, dimming the lights. “The antiemetics seem to be working though?”

“Yes.” Jane managed to say. “I haven’t vomited in over an hour.”

“That’s good. Do you mind if I take a few obs?” she asked kindly. She took Jane’s silence as conformation, sticking her thermometer in her ear. 

“Your temperature is starting to get a little higher than I would like.” Doctor Michaels worried. “I think we might need to try giving you a cool shower. It will be pretty uncomfortable, but we need to start trying to bring your fever down.”

Jane sighed. She was already in a lot of pain, her head feeling as if it was going to split open at any second, and now she had to get out of bed and have a cool shower? She couldn’t think of anything worse. 

“You’re ok to help her with that?” the doctor asked Kurt. He nodded in affirmation, glad that she was happy for him to help her. He had been slightly worried that a nurse was going to have to come in. He knew Jane would be much more comfortable with it being him. “Don’t have the water too cold, just tepid. You’ll want her to stay under the water for at least five minutes. Once she’s back in bed, call a nurse to come and check her fever again.”

She disconnected Jane from the heart rate monitor and IV bag. They had been pumping her full of fluids since her arrival, her dehydration had been quite bad. 

After giving her instructions, the doctor moved to leave. “Any problems, there’s a call button in the shower, press that and someone will come in immediately.”

When they were alone again, Kurt moved to the adjoining bathroom and turned the water on. He adjusted it to a lukewarm setting, wincing in sympathy. He knew how uncomfortable this was going to be for her. He stripped his own clothes, wrapping a towel around his waist, before moving to help his poor wife. He pulled the hospital gown over her head, before slowly helping her to her feet. The burning of her skin against his own had him feeling more concerned by the moment. He hoped the cool shower would help her feel better. 

Jane groaned at the change of equilibrium, gravity sending sharp spikes of pain through her skull. Her stomach lurched when a wave of vertigo crashed down on her. She leaned heavily on her husband, the fever sapping the remaining energy that the pain hadn’t taken already. 

He removed the towel from around his waist and stepped under the cool spray, jumping slightly as the water hit his skin. He slowly back into the shower, holding her close to his chest. He felt her tense when the tepid water hit her burning skin, the breath sucked out of her. 

She grimaced in his arms, groaning as he moved the cool water onto her hair. He stroked her back softly, running his fingers up and down her shoulder blades that had long since erupted in goosebumps. 

They stayed under the spray for more than five minutes, until chills wracked her small body. 

“Kurt…” she whimpered uncharacteristically. 

“Shhh…” he soothed, holding her close. “Just a few more minutes.” 

He could still feel the burning of her skin. He needed to make sure that her temperature came down enough for this not to be a failed exercise. It was killing him to see her like this. He knew the chills would be torture on her rigid muscles. 

He turned the shower off once her skin felt cooler, wrapping a towel around her shoulders. He quickly dried himself and donned a pair of boxers, before during her as best he could. He helped her back into the hospital gown before guiding her back to bed. Once he was dressed he called the bell for the nurse to come back and reconnect her to everything. 

Jane continued to shiver, but she had to admit she felt marginally better. Her migraine had calmed down to a dull throb, her belly not so queasy. 

The nurse took her temperature, noting that it had come down significantly. The cool shower seemed to have done the trick. 

Kurt could see her fading quickly, the symptoms having left her completely spent. 

“Get some sleep.” he murmured, tucking the light blanket over her chest. 

“You’ll still be here when I wake?” she murmured, her eyes already falling shut. 

Kurt reached out and took her hand, bringing it to her lips. 

“Always.” he whispered. He watched her fall into a deep sleep, hoping that when she woke, that would be the end of her symptoms. He wanted to take her home… wherever home may be. 

0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°0°

Jane woke the next morning, feeling like a completely different person. Her chest and her muscles still ached, but she no longer felt the urge to throw her guts up, and she knew her fever was mostly back to normal. Her headache had improved, but her eyesight remained blurry. 

“Hey.” she heard her husband whisper. 

She broke out in a massive smile. 

“Hey yourself.” she said happily. 

“Why are you so cheery this morning?” he asked, amused. He could already see the change in her. 

“I’m feeling so much better.” she replied. “I’m just feeling so relieved.” 

She watched Kurt nod, could feel the elation pulsing from his body. They had gotten their second chance… or was this there third or fourth chance? Now they just had to decide what to do with it. 

“What are you thinking?” he murmured quietly, sitting forward in his chair so she would be able to see him better. 

“I’m thinking… about Colorado.” she whispered, feeling at peace. 

“Yeah?” She could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yeah.” 

“What about Colorado?” he asked, knowing that whatever had her this excited had to be good. 

“I want to open up a foster home.” she admitted. “I just feel after everything we have been through… everything we both went through as children, we should make a safe space for those who need it most.”

Kurt responded by moving forward and kissing her softly on the forehead. 

“I think that that is a brilliant idea.” he replied seriously. He chuckled softly. “Have I ever told you how remarkable you are?”

Jane smiled. “Maybe once or twice.”

He watched her smile disappear, her face falling to a soft frown. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked, suddenly concerned. 

After a moment's silence, Jane asked, “Kurt… what if my eyesight never properly comes back… the other symptoms have gone… why can’t I see properly?”

Kurt shrugged. 

“Honestly… I’m not sure… but I do know one thing…”

“What’s that?”

“You would look incredibly sexy if you had to wear glasses.”

Jane grinned at him. He was right. At least blurred vision could be fixed. She was so thankful for this opportunity, that she was going to take it and run with it, knowing her husband would be at her side. 

Always.